Rosehaven (Medieval Song 5)

“Carry our standard high,” Gwent called to the man carrying the Oxborough crest. “We want no surprises and no arrows raining down upon us.”

There was neither surprise nor arrows.

The guard immediately recognized the Oxborough standard and waved. They heard men shouting. Without challenge, the guard opened the double gates that led into the small outer courtyard. There were at least a dozen soldiers standing about, several horses, and an armorer pounding on a helmet. The men called out welcome, making no moves at all toward their weapons. Severin motioned Gwent and

the other men to remain in the outer courtyard.

He and Hastings rode slowly into the inner bailey. Severin came to an abrupt halt at Hastings’s gasp. There were gardens surrounding the inner walls of the keep, filled with vividly blooming flowers, so many of them, and on one wall was a trellised rosebush that spilled huge red blooms from near to the top of the wall to the ground and beyond. Beautiful stone fountains stood in the center of clusters of flowers. The sound of flowing water filled the air. Severin heard a bird twittering. There were wide walkways so that no one trampled the gardens. Hastings sniffed roses strong in the air.

“It’s a castle for a princess,” she said, flinging her arms wide. “Just look at it.”

“Your father’s mistress, Hastings. Prepare yourself for it. He has treated her very well. He created this special place just for her.”

Hastings heard the children’s shouts before she saw them. Then four girls came running from one of the gardens, all laughing, shouting, calling to each other. Two women were trying to keep up with them.

The oldest of the girls appeared to be no more than ten years old, the youngest only four or five years old. They came to a surprised halt, staring up at the man and woman.

Her father’s bastards? Hastings felt a cramp forming low in her belly. She wasn’t sure now that she should have come. Her father had obviously deceived her for years, had kept a mistress ever since he’d murdered her mother, and she had borne him all these girl children.

The oldest girl called out, “You must dismount. Mother does not like the gardens to be trampled. Did not Gergen tell you? You must leave your horses in the outer courtyard. Mother will be displeased if you harm her flowers.”

Severin nodded and dismounted. He turned and lifted Hastings down from Marella.

“What is your name?” Hastings called to the girl.

“I am Marella.”

“That is my palfrey’s name!”

The girl laughed. “Your mare is very pretty. I do not mind having her name at all. But it is also the name of William’s prized mare. It is said that when the mare died, William mourned her for a week and buried her beneath his bedchamber window.”

“That is quite true,” Hastings said. “It is also true that William’s mare had a white stocking, just like my Marella.”

“Aye, that’s what Papa said.”

The youngest girl, all blond and white and skinny, ran through her sisters to Severin. She had not one whit of fear. But the women did. They were shouting at her, but she paid them no heed.

Severin came down on his haunches. “And who are you?”

“I, my lord? I am Matilda.”

“A famous name.”

“Aye,” the little girl said, flinging her head back in a gesture that Severin recognized, not certain how he did, but knowing that he had seen that gesture before. “She was William’s wife. She was short and perhaps a bit plump, but she was brave and loyal and the most beautiful woman in Normandy. Just as I am, except I was born in England and will likely remain here. My mama says I will be short as well. Who are you, my lord?”

“I am the Earl of Oxborough. This is my wife, Hastings.”

“I wanted to be named Hastings,” another girl of about seven said, stepping forward, “but Father said it wasn’t possible, that another girl already had that name. My name is Normandy. That is where William came from.”

“You can’t be the Earl of Oxborough,” Marella said, grabbing Matilda’s hand and pulling her back. “My father is the Earl of Oxborough. You are lying.”

“Oh dear,” Hastings said.

“He will come and take you away,” Matilda said. “Papa wouldn’t let anyone harm us.”

Suddenly a woman’s voice rang through the children’s chatter. “Who are you, sir? What is going on here? Why did my men allow you to enter?”

Hastings turned slowly at the woman’s voice. Oh God, memories flooded through her mind. She remembered that voice. The woman was standing in the pure sunlight, tall and straight, no gray in her rich chestnut hair, her eyes still a vivid green. She was heavier, but still she was beautiful, her dark green wool gown falling in graceful folds to the ground.