There was still much to be done, but a good start. Eadyth preened with satisfaction. Would Eirik appreciate her efforts? For the first time, Eadyth wondered if perchance she had been hasty in her well-meaning actions.
* * *
Eirik awakened to a loud pounding at the door of his bed-chamber. Or was the pounding in his head? He sat up abruptly, then fell back down to his bed at the sharp pain in his temple.
God’s Bones! He must be demented to have drunk so much ale with Wilfrid yestereve. He had not tilted his cup so much since he was an untried boy experimenting with all the forbidden fruits. He raked the widespread fingers of both hands through his unruly hair and sat up again, remembering the reason for his drinking spree—the aged maid, Eadyth, and her mention of Steven of Gravely. Blessed Lord! Would he ever escape that evil beast? Two years away from English soil, and already Gravely’s hated specter ruined his homecoming.
With a grimace of distaste, he donned the same tunic and braies he had worn the night before. His servants must wash some clothing soon or he would be unable to bear his own stench. Better yet, he would throw the whole lot in the midden and have new garments made next time he ventured to Jorvik. It was past time he enjoyed his wealth, instead of letting it molder away in its hidden underground room. The tiresome game of pretending to be the beggared lord of a run-down castle wore thin these days.
Perhaps he should restore his grandfather’s castle to its former splendor, set the cotters to working the fields again. He drew his lips in thoughtfully at the prospect, one he had been weighing these two sennights since his return.
He smiled then as he remembered Lady Eadyth and her outrageous proposal of marriage. In truth, it was not the first time a maid had pursued him hotly with matrimony in mind. And many a devious plot had been devised to trap him into a betrothal pact—everything from seduction to blackmail. Luckily, he had escaped them all. One bad marriage was more than enough, to his mind. When Elizabeth had died ten years ago, he had vowed never to wed again—with good reason.
But now, the mistress of Hawks’ Lair offered him a temptation he might not be able to refuse. He creased his brow with irritation. Oh, it was not her handsome dowry that enticed, and certainly not her physical attributes, God forbid, but the prospect of revenge against Steven of Gravely—that he might not be able to resist. The means of finally being able to draw Steven out in the open for a fight to the death was certainly worth considering.
The pounding on his door resumed, and Eirik recognized Bertha’s whining voice. “Master! Oh, please, master, come afore she turns us upside down and shakes the lice from our heads.”
Eirik jumped to attention and walked to the door, opening it on the surprised cook who was about to knock again and, instead, pounded his chest. His stomach churned and the taste of stale mead rose nauseously to his throat. Bloody Hell! That was all he needed, on top of the pounding ache in his head.
Then his mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Bertha? ‘Tis you?”
He barely recognized his old cook in her clean perse tunic. Her skin had been scrubbed red, and her clean hair lay wetly in snakelike clumps down to her shoulders, framing a face mottled with outrage.
“What is it, Bertha?” he finally asked, choking back astonished laughter.
” ‘Tis the lady, Mistress Eadyth. The bleedin’ harpy… beggin’ yer pardon, master, fer me disrespect… the lady woke ever’one afore first light with her squawkin’ and put us all to work, she did.” She held out her red, roughened palms to demonstrate how hard she had labored.
Eirik frowned in puzzlement. “Do you not get up at dawn every morn to start the chores?”
Bertha’s face turned bright red. “Well, yea, I mean, sumtimes, but… but…’tis not her place to order us about, and she called us slugabeds and worse. Sez we be so lazy we got to, no doubt, lean against the wall to belch. Claims we got lice, and sez we got ’til this midday to git rid of ’em or she will turn us upside down and shake ’em off.”