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

her even though but two months remained until the baby was due, but he remained distantly polite. Of Abergavenny they never spoke at all, and all her tormented questions, so long suppressed, remained unanswered.

It wasn't long before she noticed the small blond serving wench so often at her husband's side, giggling as he pressed sweetmeats and baubles on her. "He'll not grow cold at night, that's for sure, madam, with that puss to keep him warm, " Elen commented tartly, seeing her lady's eyes following the girl around the hall, and Matilda forced herself to smile.

Gerald continued to visit the castle but less frequently. He combined his visits with journeys through the diocese and seemed suddenly even more preoccupied than before with church affairs. Matilda missed his attention and the talks they used to have, but she was less inclined to make any effort now, and thankfully set aside her reading save where she had to go over the household accounts. Now William's steward Bernard was there to do it for her, and she had only to supervise him and soothe his occasional quarrels with Hugh.

The soft warmth of June succeeded the windy days of May at last. She began to spend long hours in the small garden she was making between the kitchen buildings and the chapel, tending the seedlings she had planted and pulling the ever-strangling weeds. Her three women were constantly with her, helping her to her feet after she had knelt too long on the grass and scolding her when she dirtied her fingers in the earth, never leaving her alone, crowding her till sometimes she wanted to scream. She dreamed often of her lonely hillside vigils as a girl, far from crowded castles, and fought to keep herself shouting out loud with frustration.

"Oh, God! When will this waiting be over!" She rounded on Margaret at last. "I shall go mad. How do women put up with it!"

Margaret looked shocked. "It's our place, my lady. We must be patient like the Holy Virgin. "

"The Holy Virgin was a saint, I'm not, " Matilda retorted. She pulled viciously at a string of bindweed. "If it wasn't for this garden I would throw myself off the top of the keep. I never dreamed childbearing could be so awful. "

Margaret lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "My lady, it's not for much longer, " she whispered soothingly.

"It's long enough. Every minute is too long. And we need rain for these godforsaken herbs. Why doesn't it rain?" She stared up, furious, at the clear blue sky, determined to be out of temper. Nearby Nell and Elen were sitting on the wall chatting quietly together, their veils pulled forward around their faces to keep off the sun.

Matilda put her hand up to Margaret's shoulder and pulled herself heavily from the ground, shaking out her skirts. From the forge on the far side of the bailey came the sound of hammering and the hiss of a horseshoe going into cold water. She looked around, vaguely soothed by the familiar sights, but only the promise she had made to herself that once she was free from the burden of the child she would ride up to see Gerald in his own house bolstered her in the long dreary days. She put her hand to her back wearily. The lying-in woman had been at the castle now for two weeks.

The wet nurse had been chosen and sat this very moment on the steps of the chapel, suckling her child in the drowsy sun, oblivious of the horses that stamped around her, waiting their turn at the forge.

Throwing down her trowel, Matilda lowered herself onto the little wall beside Elen. She had had it built bounding the garden on the side that faced the bailey, and although it was designed to keep marauding dogs and animals out and keep the hooves of excited horses from the tender young plants, it made a useful seat. She turned to watch the activity in the bailey beyond. On the far side of the cobbled area beyond the kitchens a knot of Welshmen stood talking together urgently, their excitable lilt plainly audible above the noise of the horses. Then, as she listened idly to the unintelligible music of their speech, they suddenly fell silent, listening to one of their number who, with waving arms and much gesticulation, had moved into the center of the group. They all looked at each other and then to her surprise over their shoulders toward her, and she saw that they were crossing themselves and making the sign against the evil eye.

"What's the matter with those men?" she asked uneasily.

Elen, following her gaze, smiled a little ruefully. "They'll be talking about the green water, my lady. I heard in the hall this morning. It's magic, so they say, and a message from God. "

"Green water?" Matilda turned to her with a little frown. "I've heard nothing of this. Tell me about it. "

"It's nothing, my lady. Stupid gossip, that's all, " Margaret interrupted hastily. "Don't be foolish, Elen, talking like that. It's serfs' talk. " Her plump face flushed with anxiety.

"It's not indeed, " Elen defended herself hotly. She put her hand up to the irrepressible curly hair that strayed from her veil no matter how hard she tried to restrain it. "Everyone was talking about it this morning. It happened before, a hundred years ago, so they say, and then it was a warning from God that he was displeased about a terrible murder there had been. " The blue eyes in her freckled face were round with importance. "It's a warning so it is. "

Matilda shivered as though the cold shadow of the mountains had reached out and fallen over her. "If it's a warning, " she said quietly, "it must be meant for me. Where is this water, Elen?"

"It's Afon Llynfi, madam, and the Lake of Llangorse that it flows from, up in the Black Mountains yonder. " She crossed herself hastily. "They