Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

"But, my lady—" The man looked at her aghast.

"Get them out. " She had raised her voice only a little. "Is the hall of my lord and husband going to be used as a pigsty? Get them out and swill the floor. Now. " She shouted the last word, stamping her foot. The soldier, with one look at her blazing eyes and set chin, bowed and ran to the sleeping forms, setting about them with the flat of his sword.

John looked around and then strode to the staircase in the wall. "Perhaps there is a solar that would be more habitable, " he commented sourly, and ran up, his spurs ringing on the stone. There was a moment's silence and then she heard him call. "It's clean and dry here. We'll make this our headquarters. Fire and lights!" The last words were bellowed in a voice meant to be obeyed.

Her exhaustion and fear and the anger and shame that followed it when she found the condition of the castle had preoccupied her so much that she had for a moment not fully realized her predicament. But now it became obvious there was no chatelaine here, no maids; whatever womenfolk there were attached to the garrison, washerwomen or followers, must, she supposed, return to some local village or encampment at night. There was no sign of them. She paused at the foot of the stairway, the stones still dusty from cutting, and glanced up at the racing shadows thrown on the stark walls by the torch as the man ran up ahead of her. Up there John was waiting. His maneuver, if maneuver it was, of getting her alone to Dinas had worked better than he could have hoped. Her heart thumping with fear, she began to climb the stairs.

With the help of several of the least drunken of the garrison, the solar was made more habitable. There were only planks on boxes provided by the carpenter to sit on, but hay was brought to warm the floor and piles of furs and fleeces, and the wine was good. Cold mutton and rye bread proved the only food, but there was plenty of it, eaten from tin plates on the plank bench.

"I can understand why these men have to get drunk, " John commented, elbows on knees, as he sat chewing a mutton bone. "Sweet Lord, but this is a wild place. What made you think it was complete?" He gave her a mocking smile as he raised his goblet to his lips, and she felt herself blushing.

"We were informed it was finished and garrisoned, sir. The accounts called for no more money for stone. " She sipped her wine, grateful for the warmth it spread through her veins.

"The stone's all here, I can see that. It's stacked in the bailey. But the castle's less than half built. " John threw a bit of gristle into the fire. "No chapel, no stores, no inner wall, no other building save the keep. Only the foundations. I saw them in the dark. "

Matilda shrugged. "Sir William will be furious when he finds out. And as for them all being drunk, they should all be flogged. They shall all be flogged. "

John raised an eyebrow. He was drinking hard, the heavy wine bringing a flush of color to his cheekbones. "You'd enjoy that, would you, madam? We'll see what we can arrange for you. I intend to hold an inquiry myself as soon as it's light and they've slept it off sufficiently to stand. Don't worry. They'll be punished. " He stood up abruptly and hurled the bone across the floor. "Now. For our sleeping arrangements. "

Matilda clenched her fists. "I shall not sleep tonight, my lord. I couldn't. " She could hardly order the king's son to go and sleep below in the hall amid the stench and filth. She could only rely on his sense of chivalry. "Our escort will attend you. I shall sit here by the fire. " She stood up and, turning her back to him determinedly, held out her hands to the flames.

"Oh, come, Matilda, that's hardly friendly. " He was behind her and she felt his hands on her shoulders. "The warmest thing would be for us to lie together, surely. " His fingers moved forward and down until they closed over her breasts.

She caught her breath. "That would not be right, Your Highness. " She gasped desperately. He was turning her to face him, his lips reaching for hers, cutting off her protest as he pulled her against him.

His body was young, lean and strong, and in spite of her instant repugnance as he pressed her against him, Matilda felt her own flesh respond, yearning suddenly for the confident, clean touch of a young man after so long with only William to maul her. In spite of herself she hesitated, yielding slightly, her body torn with longing.

John laughed triumphantly. "So, we make progress at last, my lady. Come. " He caught her hand, pulling her toward the pile of rugs and furs that had been heaped on the floor in the corner. "We shall find this journey was, after all, not wasted—"

"No!" Matilda tore herself away from him. "I think, sire, you cannot know what you're suggesting. " She spoke as repressively as she could, hoping he could not feel her violent trembling as he caught her arms and pulled her against him again. He was immensely strong. His hands gripped her cruelly tight and his face was only inches now from hers. "I am the wife of Sir William de Braose, not a common whore, " she hissed, her momentary weakness gone. She flung his hands from her arms and stood rigid, her eyes flaming. "And I think, sir, you forget your new wife. Perhaps you should reserve your attentions for her and getting that son you were so anxious for. "

There was a long silence. Then John gave a little laugh. She