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And now Turold had been accepted by Aldyth of Sherborne, and Maud faced the
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wreck of her dreams. It would be the knight's daughter and not she who would
rule Turold's hall and bear his babes, it seemed.
Well, that remained to be proven. She had not talked to Turold yet.
He was merely dazzled by the idea of marrying a knight's daughter, she told
herself. It did not occur to Maud to be angry with her lover or that he had
merely been using her plump young body to vent his lust. She'd dress
provocatively when she met him and would let him make love to her in that odd
bestial way he liked, which hurt her but seemed to give him such
satisfaction. He'd remember how much he loved her; after that, Aldyth of
Sherborne would seem but a whey-faced ghost.
The date for the marriage was set for the third of December. The days passed
in a blur for Aldyth, and she slept little. Every waking moment was taken up
with the wedding. From before dawn till after dark she chivied the eastie
folk in their cleaning tasks. There would be guests occupying every spare
room and every inch of space in the hall, she reminded them, and she ordered
every room newly whitewashed, every rafter swept free of cobwebs--as if she
expected the guests to roost up there, the scullions up on ladders grumbled.
The swineherd, after hearing how many of his charges would be slaughtered to
feed the guests, fretted that there wouldn't be so much as a suckling pig
left after the mistress's nuptials. After talking to the shepherd, the cow
herd and the wench who minded the chickens and the dovecote, he swore they
would be living on vegetables alone through the winter. Aldyth spent days in
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consultation with Helwise the cook until the woman dreaded the sight of her
young mistress "with her fancy ideas of cookin's f the Pope himself was
comin' to bless the wedded pair." Helwise was secretly impressed that her
kitchen would be serving the Earl and Countess of Kingsclere, but she had to
be cajoled into promising to make any of the fancy sauced dishes that Normans
prized.
As soon as she had set the household staff to their chores, Aldyth went to
her solar, for the light was best in the morning for stitching her wedding
gown. It was to be a wine- colored velvet, with Englishwork embroidery at
the neckline, hem and wide, flared sleeves, and she was determined to do
every stitch herself. Her mother had been a skilled needlewoman, Aldyth
recalled, and had taught her the elaborate Saxon embroidery style. If only
the long hours bent over her needle near the window did not give her so much
time to think!
Turold had been the perfect swam, coming to Sherborne frequently, often with
some small gift such as a pair of newly weaned kittens from Swanlea farm, one
black, one white, which Aldyth promptly fell in love with and named Snow and
Soot. The kittens would become valued mousers at Swanlea after the wedding,
he told her, smiling in a pleased fashion at her pleasure, but for now they
could amuse her with their antics.
When it was fair, they spent the afternoons walking or riding the
countryside. between Sherborne and Swanlea.
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Turold was an amusing companion, telling her funny stories about his
childhood on the farm. They spoke of their future life together, laughing as
they named the dozen children Turold claimed he wanted, the first six to be
boys, of course, to help their father about the farm, the last six to be
girls, to comfort him in his old age. Aldyth had laughingly told him that
after providing him with six sons, she would be much too fatigued to bear him
daughters, and he would doubtless have to comfort her, for she would be an
old woman long before he was an old man!
Within a fortnight of the betrothal, he had taken her to Swanlea to meet his
mother, Gundreda, who was a widow.
The Englishwoman, whose thinning braids hinted at the flaxen color she had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]