Unlike his son’s, Lord Pengraic’s tone was hard and devoid of compassion, and my eyes once more dropped to the floor while my hands clutched within the poor woollen skirts of my kirtle.
‘You have no time to waste in idle chatter,’ Lord Pengraic said to his son. ‘The bargemen await and we must be away. Have you said your farewells to your lady mother?’
‘I have, my lord,’ Stephen said.
‘Then to the barge,’ the earl said.
Stephen inclined his head, managing to shoot me an unreadable look as he did so, then stepped past his father and disappeared from my sight.
The air felt chill and the world an emptier place without him close. I was amazed that so few moments in his company could have made so profound an impression on me.
To my consternation the earl did not turn immediately and follow his son.
‘Who are you?’ he said.
I dipped again in courtesy, and repeated my name.
‘Langtofte …’ the earl said. ‘Your father was one of the sons of Lord Warren of Langtofte, yes?’
‘Yes, my lord. Sir Godfrey Langtofte.’ A son left poor, with little land, who left me yet poorer in worldly goods and hope when he gave what he had to the Templars at his death five months ago. My mother, might the Virgin Mary watch over her always, had long been in her grave. My father had left me with the name of minor nobility, but nothing else of any worth, not even brothers and sisters to comfort me.
‘And so now you are here,’ the earl said, ‘waiting upon my wife, which doubtless you think a prettier life than one spent at your devotions in a nunnery, which must have been the only other choice available to you.’
His tone hurt. I kept my eyes downcast, lest he see the humiliation within them.
‘Mind your ambitions do not grow too high, Mistress Langtofte. Do not think to cast the net of your aspirations over my son —’
‘My lord!’ I said, now stung to look at him too directly. ‘I did not —’
‘He would think you nothing but a dalliance and would ruin your name yet further, and you would grace whatever nunnery I banish you to with a bawling infant of no name whatever, for do not expect me to allow it the de Mortaigne —’
‘My lord! I —’
‘Think not to speak over me!’ he said, and I took a step backward, pushing over the stool, so wary was I of the contempt in his face.
Pengraic was one of the greatest nobles in England, not only the most powerful of the Marcher Lords, but also close confidant of the king. He could destroy my life with a word.
‘Be careful of your place here, Mistress Langtofte,’ he said, now very soft, ‘for it rests only on my sufferance.’
With that he turned on his heel and was gone, and a moment later I heard shouting as the earl’s party moved down to the great barge I had seen waiting earlier at the pier on the Thames.
I stood there, staring at the empty space which still seemed to me to throb with his anger and contempt. My heart thudded in my chest, and I bit my lip to keep myself from tears.
The earl’s unfairness knifed deep, particularly since it contrasted so brutally with the warmth of his son. I eased myself with the notion that Lord Stephen must have received his gentleness and kindness from his lady mother, and that she would keep me under a similarly gentle and most noble wing, and shield me from the unjustified anger of her lord.
Thus began my life in the Pengraic household.
Chapter Two
Iwaited in that wretched little alcove for what felt like hours. I felt its cold and dampness seep into my joints, and I wondered how the man Alaric managed to sleep in here at nights.
I hoped the Lady Adelie believed in braziers, or maybe even a fire, in the family’s privy chambers.
It was a nerve-wracking wait. Pengraic had struck to the heart when he’d said I had but two choices — enter a nunnery or take the only other offer open to me: serve Lady Adelie, Countess of Pengraic, who was a close cousin of my father’s mother. I loved my Lord God and all his saints, but I did not think I would manage well with the isolation and rigidity of a nunnery. Besides, I wanted a home and family of my own one day. After the death of my father I had little choice left in my life. I had stayed some months with a distant cousin, but she and I did not settle well together and she resented the cost to her household of the small degree of food I ate at table. It was a relief to leave her house. I felt keenly the loss of my home on the death of my father; I was well aware that alone, and with no dowry, I was but a hair’s breadth away from destitution despite my noble heritage.
How unhappy then, that in this single household prepared to offer me shelter the resident lord appeared determined to despise me.
I sat there and tried to fight back the despondency. I wondered why it took so long for the lady of the house to send for me. Was this a test? Had she forgot me? Should I say something to Alaric who occasionally slid by the door, glancing in as if he, too, wanted me gone?
Finally, as an early evening gloom settled over the house, I heard more footsteps on the staircase, and a moment later a woman appeared at the door.
‘Mistress Maeb?’
I stood up, a little too hastily.
‘Yes.’
The woman stepped closer, holding out her hands to take one of mine. She was older than me, perhaps by ten or twelve years, and even though her face and eyes were weary she offered me a smile and her hands’ clasp was warm.
‘I am Evelyn Kendal.’
‘Mistress Kendal,’ I said, and dipped in courtesy.
She patted the back of my hand. ‘No need for such formality with me, Maeb, though you should always show Lady Adelie respect. We have kept you waiting long. I am sorry for that. My lady has been feeling unwell and she asked us to sit with her while she slept. But now she is awake and feeling more cheerful, and has remembered you. Is this your bag? So little for all your belongings! Follow me and I shall bring you to my lady.’
I picked up my bag — truly only a heavy cloth wrapped about my few remaining possessions — and thankfully departed Alaric’s alcove. A few steps beyond it I heard him scurry inside, a shadowy spider glad to have his home released to him once again.
This was my first good look at the interior of Rosseley manor house. I had been awestruck when I rode up, for the entire house was of stone, a great rarity for its expense and thus only an option for the greatest lords. Inside it was spacious and well appointed — the hangings on the walls were thick and colourful and there were large wooden chests pushed against walls. As we passed the doors that led into the great hall of the house I saw a glimpse of the colourful pennants and banners hanging from the walls and ceiling, and I was much impressed.
But what should I have expected? The Earl of Pengraic was one of the Marcher Lords, almost completely independent of the king, wealthy beyond most of the Norman nobility, and a great man for the influence of his family and of the extent of his lands, lordships and offices.
‘This house came to the earl as part of Lady Adelie’s dowry,’ Evelyn said as we began to climb the staircase. ‘We use it during the winter months when the Marches become too damp and cold for my lady to bear. We sometimes spend spring and summer here, also, for the earl often needs to attend court and it is but a day or two’s barge ride along the Thames to the king’s court at Westminster.’
‘Is that where the earl and his son have gone now?’ I asked. I had spent a moment envying Lady Adelie for the wealth of her dowry, and then the envy evaporated as I thought on the marriage it had bought her.
Evelyn nodded. ‘King Edmond has asked the earl’s attendance upon some difficult matter, I believe. Have you travelled far, Maeb?’
‘A long way,’ I said. ‘All the way from Witenie.’
Evelyn stopped on the stairs and laughed in merriment. ‘A long way? Oh, my dear! The distance from here to Witenie is but a trifle compared to that which we will cover when eventually we go home to Pengraic Castle in the Marches. That is a long journey!’