Severin, whose hand had been on Hastings’s breast, cursed, leapt to his feet, and pulled on his clothes. Sword in hand, he was gone within moments.
When Hastings came into the great hall, a blanket wrapped around her, there was the poor brother whose tooth had been paining him on his knees on the stone floor. He was moaning and pressing his hands against his jaw. Blood was dripping through his fingers. The abbot stood over him, holding the tooth in his hand, looking grim and pleased. “It is done. Whine no more.”
“I could give him something to slow the bleeding,” she said quietly to Severin.
“Nay, you cannot. The abbot would go into a frenzy of religious fervor*were you to do anything.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Let us sleep, Hastings. Morning will come early. Let us pray that the rain stops. I want to leave this place.”
The rain did stop near dawn the next morning. Severin awakened her with a kiss to her temple. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She lifted her hand and lightly caressed her fingertips over his mouth, his nose, his cheeks. She smoothed his eyebrows. “I am glad you kept me with you.”
“Aye, but there is no time to ask for more of a show of gratitude. He pulled off the blankets and rose.
Within the hour they were riding from Wigham Abbey. Hastings turned in Marella’s saddle and stared back at the grim stone buildings-
• the morning sunlight, it looked inhospitable. “I wonder if conJnts are as depressing as that place.”
V “Benedictines relish the torture of their flesh,” Gwent said. “Let them t T do not imagine that it much pleases God, but who knows?” Tabar was better. He was even whistling. He was effusive in his
thanks to Hastings.
“He is young,” Severin said. “He will glow and squeal his infatuation for you but then it will disappear. I will suffer him until he cures himlf of you. If it is not soon, I will cuff him hard and that will clear out his
wits.
Hastings laughed. She poked her husband’s arm. He smiled at her and stretched out his hand, gripping hers.
Gwent grunted and said under his breath, “He has not mucked up the miracle, praise be to God.” He had never seen his master so at ease with a woman. Even with most men he was silent, his speech terse. He heard Severin laugh. It was indeed a miracle. All the men looked quite pleased.
I
M
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They reached Yorkshire on the afternoon of the fifth day. The weather remained warm and dry. They passed to the east of Leeds, on toward the coast, to the town of Hawksmere. Langthorne village lay just behind at the head of the estuary. Hastings was both excited to see Langthorne and anxious that her mother-in-law had been found by now. Poor woman. She prayed the Healer’s herbs would help her. But sickness in the head was frightening simply because there were no sores, no fever, no broken bones. It was hidden. It was unknown. Thus it was to be feared and reviletl.”*
Langthorne keep stood on a slight rise at the head of the estuary. It looked as old as the black rocks that poked up randomly in the fields. There were gouges in the outer walls, stones spilling out like waterfalls of rock. The fields surrounding the outer walls looked devastated, the people ragged and poor. She’d known that Severin had wedded her to gain money to renew his home, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite so bad. His expression was set. He said nothing. He would have come here soon enough, but she was glad that it was sooner. There was much to be done to bring Langthorne back to its former glory, whatever that had been. It would be passed down to her sons and daughters. She didn’t want it to be a ruin.
1 5 2
His mother was at Langthorne. Sir Roger’s men had found her siton a branch in a tree, her bare legs dangling. She laughed as she