“I did not pour any liquid into my goblet,” Hastings said, still now, stiff as a pole. “That makes not a whit of sense. I would not kill myself. Does that also mean that I stole the wine and the stained tablecloth?” She was shaking her head. “I am the only one who could have possibly determined what kind of poison was in the wine.”
“Or the Healer,” Marjorie said.
Severin waved his hand for silence. “Tell me, Marjorie, when did Eloise say that Hastings had done this?”
“I do not know. It was near to the dinner hour, I suppose. Hastings, wait, I cannot allow you to hurt Eloise.”
Hastings whirled about, hands fisted at her sides. “Hurt her? Why would I hurt the child? I just want to talk to her.”
“Wait, Hastings,” Severin said, “both of us will speak to Eloise. I want to understand this.”
Trist balled himself up inside Severin’s tunic, mewling softly.
They did not speak to Eloise because they could not find her.
“Later, then,” Severin said. He lightly tapped his fingertip against Hastings’s nose. “The child is mistaken, worry not overly about it.”
“The child lied, Severin.”
“Aye, that is also possible. I must return to the practice field. Remember, I wish to speak to Eloise with you.”
He was afraid that she would hurt the child? Hastings pressed her hands against her belly. She felt a moment of dizziness. She grabbed the high back of Severin’s chair. She said nothing as she watched him stride out of the great hall. She walked slowly outside, down the deep, indented steps. The sun was bright overhead. The day should bring her contentment, but it didn’t.
Marjorie said from behind her, “You saved his marten. You gained more by doing that than by sipping the wine, becoming ill, and gaining pity for yourself.”
She turned to see Marjorie standing beside her, her glorious silver hair loose down her back, sunlight shifting through it. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. “What did you say, Marjorie?”
“If Eloise was right, and I do believe her, aye, I certainly do, then you gained more than pity. You saved that damned animal of his. After you dropped the goblet you allowed the marten to drink some of the poisoned wine. You took a chance, Hastings. A big one.”
“You honestly believe I would poison Trist? Marjorie, he could easily have died.”
“A jealous woman will go to any lengths to defeat her rival. Mayhap even risking harm to the babe in her womb, but of course you did spill the wine, didn’t you? You never had any intention of drinking it.”
Hastings leaned down to pet Gilbert the goat’s head. He was chewing on a leather strap that Hastings knew belonged to the armorer. She would have to tell him not to kill the goat. It was possible that she would need Gilbert’s milk for her child. The child Marjorie believed she could possibly risk harming? The thought made her utterly cold inside.
She looked up at Marjorie. “You know, Marjorie, it’s true. I am jealous of you. I do not like myself for it, but it is there, nonetheless. However, soon you will be gone. Soon Eloise’s lie will be shown for what it is—a lie by a child who happens to adore you. She sees that you want to take my place. She would do anything to help you, even deliver this lie. But attend me. You are not my rival. I am the Countess of Oxborough. You are not. Do you wish to be Severin’s leman? If so, that is all you will ever be. Can you be content with that?”
Marjorie laughed, a beautiful, clear laugh. Was there nothing ugly about the woman? Aye, her insides were in question.
“Hastings, Eloise is not the only one who adores me. She is not the only one to wish to make me happy. You believe I will truly go back to Sedgewick?”
“Aye, I do.”
“We will see, will we not? But that is not important. You are looking less old and pale today. Are you ready to resume your duties as mistress of Oxborough?”
“I already have, Marjorie.”
“Ah, here comes Severin’s mad old mother.”
“She is not mad. She is quite recovered now. Even the Healer does not know if it was really madness that afflicted her. It does not matter. Now she is well again.”
“No, she is not. You have not observed her as I have. There is wildness in her eyes. Her movements are clumsy, frenzied. She needs to be locked away.”
“Your insides are becoming clearer to me now, Marjorie. They are twisted and very black. Mayhap you poisoned my wine.”
For the first time, Marjorie looked as if she would like to strike Hastings. She was breathing hard, her beautiful white hands fists at her sides. “Does Severin tell you how much he loves you when he is deep inside you?” she asked. “Does he kiss your ear as he tells you how beautiful you are? Does he tell you how much he needs you, how much pleasure you give him?”
Hastings turned on her heel and walked toward Lady Moraine. She thought of the vial that sat behind her herb jars in their bedchamber. She would pour the love potion into Severin’s goblet at the evening meal.
“I hear that the silver-haired bitch has come out of the shadows and speaks quite openly to you now, Hastings.”
“Aye, she speaks her mind.”
“Did she promise that she would continue her efforts to murder you so she could marry Severin and take your place here at Oxborough?”
“Nay, the child Eloise accuses me of knocking over the wine goblet and poisoning Trist on purpose. Marjorie said I did it because I believed I would gain Severin’s pity.”
She leaned down to pat Gilbert the goat’s head. He had eaten nearly all the leather. “Hurry,” she said to him. “The armorer could come upon you at any time.”
She straightened, pushing the hair back from her forehead. The afternoon was cool, a clean breeze blowing from the sea. “I have decided to pour the potion into Severin’s wine goblet this evening.”
“Good. Odd, isn’t it, that I never knew of this passion Severin had for Marjorie? Of course, my husband kept me away from my boys, said he didn’t want them softened. That was before my brains curdled.”
“Your brains were never curdled. It was something else. But I pray the potion continues to work.”
Lady Moraine laughed and lightly slapped Hastings’s arm. “The Healer can do anything. You have always trusted her. Don’t cease now.”
But Hastings was shaking her head. “Nay, I won’t. Do you know that I don’t believe I will use the love potion just yet. Maybe not ever. What I’ve got to do is get Marjorie returned to Sedgewick.”
Hastings saw to her household duties, directing the servants to lime the jakes, which had grown particularly noxious with the wind blowing from the east. She oversaw the wool weaving by three women of excellent skill who had been trained by her mother so many years before; she spoke to MacDear of the meals they would have for the next several days; she pulled up weeds in her herb garden and tied up her columbine. The sun was bright and hot overhead. Her side hurt just a bit; she rose to stretch. MacDear, who scarce ever left the kitchen, was at her elbow, his huge bulk blocking out the sun. “The marten ate all the broth, but still I worry. He does not run as quickly as he used to. Is he all right, Hastings?”
She smiled up at him, feeling the pulling lessen in her side. “Aye, he grows stronger, even from this morning until now. He ate all of your broth, you saw that, and he ate a bit of Severin’s bread. Severin will not let him out of his sight. I believe he even practices with his javelin with Trist burrowed deep in his tunic. He will be racing again very soon.”
MacDear fidgeted a moment, leaning down to lightly touch his big fingers to some allium. “It is good to have you back, Hastings.”
“Aye. Did you not work well with Marjorie?”
MacDear sighed and clapped his palms over his chest. “Ah, that one is more glorious than the first evening star.”
Even you, MacDear, she thought, and wanted to cry.
“But you know, Hastings, she is cold, that one. She plots and schemes and smiles that beautiful smile all the while.” He leaned cl
oser, but not that much closer because his belly was so big. “Watch her, Hastings. All know of the poisoned wine. Many believe she put the poison in your goblet, despite her beauty.”
“I don’t want to watch her. I want her to leave.”
MacDear shrugged, turned, and yelled at one of the kitchen boys who was coming toward him, carrying a loaf of bread, “Hugh, you cocky little maggot, did you burn that bread?” He said to Hastings in a much lower voice, “Then send her back. Do it, Hastings. Do it today.”
As she walked back into the great hall, her head bowed, deep in thought, she realized she wanted Severin to love her, regardless of Marjorie or any other glorious creature who just might cross his path. She wanted him to see only her. And she didn’t want to use a damned love potion to bring that about.
Her side still hurt. Too much bending and stretching in her garden. She hugged herself as she walked up the solar stairs to her bedchamber. Two more days and the Healer would cut out the black stitches. Then Severin would punish her for running away from Oxborough. Perhaps then too he would come back to her bed.
Severin sat in his high-backed chair. He looked imperious. He looked cold and stern. Normally when he dealt with Eloise, he came down on his haunches to be at her eye level; he softened his voice. Not this time.
He said, “Come here, Eloise. Don’t dawdle. I have not much time to spend with you.”
He said nothing more, merely began to tap his fingertips against the arms of his chair. Hastings sat beside him, her hands in her lap. She saw Marjorie in the shadows of the great hall just beyond the mammoth fireplace. Severin had told her that he wanted to speak to Eloise alone.
She had merely nodded, not arguing with him.
Hastings waited.
Eloise crept several feet closer, her head down. She was twisting her fingers together. Severin did not appear to be moved by the child’s obvious distress.
“You accused my wife of poisoning herself. You will tell me why you said this.”
The child began to shake. She sobbed.
“Enough!” Severin roared. “I will not have any more of your nonsense, Eloise. You made a grave charge against Hastings. You will answer it or else you will displease me mightily.”
To Hastings’s surprise, Eloise hiccuped once, then raised her head. She stared at Hastings. Her young face, so smooth and clear, suddenly twisted. “I saw her,” she yelled, pointing her finger at Hastings. “Aye, I saw her sneak into the hall, looking to see if anyone was about, then she poured this powder into her own goblet.”
“When?” Severin asked, sitting forward in his chair. “When did you observe Hastings doing this?”
“Yesterday, just before the dinner.”
“What was she wearing when she did this?”
“Wearing?” Eloise suddenly jerked about to search out Marjorie.
“What, Eloise? Look at me!”
The child looked ready to burst into tears. She looked ready to flee.
“I don’t remember,” Eloise whispered, her head down, her feet scuffing the reeds.
Edgar the wolfhound snarled, then quieted again.
“It was only yesterday, Eloise.”
“She was wearing the gown she wore to the meal. Aye, that was it. It was that yellow color that makes her look sallow.”
Severin leaned forward only to have Eloise shrink back. “Hold still,” he barked at her. “Now, you will listen to me, Eloise. I have never seen this hall empty of people. You say that no one was in the great hall, no one except you and Hastings?”
“Aye, that’s true. She didn’t see me. I was hiding.”
Severin rubbed his jaw. Then he called out, “Dame Agnes, please come forward.” When she was standing next to Eloise, he continued. “Tell me of Hastings’s movements just before the dinner meal yesterday.”
“She was with me, your mother, and Alice. We were dressing her in the saffron gown. She was with us until all of us came down into the great hall together for the evening meal.”
Severin said to Eloise, “Do you wish to hear the same words from my mother? From Alice?”
“I hate you! I hate Hastings! I want to go home with Marjorie.” The child turned and ran to Marjorie, throwing herself against her, burying her head in her skirts.
“I am sorry, Hastings. This has not been pleasant for you.” He stilled, turning to look at Marjorie, who was gently rocking Eloise against her. By Saint Albert’s knees, she was so beautiful it made his groin tighten to look upon her. What groin would not tighten? At that moment, Marjorie raised her head and looked squarely at him.
“You may take the child to your bedchamber,” he called. “You will speak to her about the evils of lying. I am very displeased with your tutelage, Marjorie. The child has changed since she was here in Hastings’s charge. She is sly, her nature is unpleasant, and she has proven to be a liar. I do not like it.”
Hastings could but stare at her husband. He was actually criticizing his goddess? But everything he said was true. Eloise was very different now. She was mean-spirited. Had Marjorie alone brought about the changes in the child? She did not believe that Eloise could possibly have known to say that her saffron gown had made her look sallow. What child knew that word? No, that had come from Marjorie, and Eloise was just repeating it. It was hurtful and Eloise knew well it was hurtful.
Severin waved Marjorie and Eloise away. “You will take the evening meal in your bedchamber,” he called after them. Marjorie didn’t say anything, nor did she turn to acknowledge his order. Her head was high. Her glorious hair floated down her back to her hips.
Hastings could throw the bloody potion down the jakes. She wanted to throw herself in her husband’s arms. She wanted to dance, mayhap even juggle some leather balls as the jongleur had done. Severin had made his choice. He would return them very soon now to Sedgewick.
Then Severin turned to her and said, “I trust Dame Agnes isn’t the liar here. As for my mother, she would say anything to protect you. Alice as well.”
From one instant to the next, she thought, as her hand closed about the silver laver that stood next to her chair. It was filled with clean water. She picked it up, rose, and hurled it at him.
“You whoreson,” she shrieked at him, but it was difficult because she was panting as if she had run ten miles. Water dripped off his face and his tunic. Trist poked his head out, his face wet. He was staring at Hastings, then twisting about to look up at Severin.
Severin had managed to block the laver with his arm and it was on the floor, more dents in the beautiful polished silver. Edgar the wolfhound was lapping water from an indentation in one of the floor stones.
Severin rose very slowly. Hastings didn’t like the look in his eye. She tried to duck past him, but only got about three feet. He grabbed her about her waist, quickly moved his arm upward away from the wound, and pulled her back. He turned her around to face him. She was still panting hard. He might want to beat her, but he wouldn’t. She was carrying his child. The stitches were still in her side.
He was not more than three inches from her. He was silent, just staring down at her.
He closed his hands around her neck, lifting her chin with his thumbs. “You fear me and then you do not,” he said in the calmest voice she’d ever heard out of him. “But no matter, you continue to make a fool of me whenever it suits you.”
“You called me a liar. You called your own mother a liar. What would you expect me to do, sit here with my head downcast and let you fling out your insults?”
“I would expect you to speak to me about my opinions, not attack me. I have allowed you too much freedom, Hastings. It is time to rein you in.”
“What do you mean?” Her mouth felt dry, drier still as she watched the drops of water roll down his face.
“You are without control. You do not govern yourself. You do whatever comes to your woman’s brain without thinking about your actions. I cannot allow this to continue. I will not allow it to continue. For the next two evenings, you
will eat your meal seated beside Edgar the wolfhound. To assure myself that you will not leap up and strike me with a chair or a knife or the laver again, I will tie you to Edgar.” He released her and stepped back.
“Mayhap you should not wear your best clothes. Edgar slobbers a lot. And Hastings, do not try to flee me again, else you will not like the consequences.”
He turned on his heel and strode out of the great hall, not looking back.
“No!” she screamed after him.
Dame Agnes was just shaking her head. “Must I teach you everything again and again, Hastings? No, do not rant at me about the unfairness of what your husband has ordered. You amaze me. You actually threw the laver at him! He did not retaliate because, unlike you, Hastings, Lord Severin understands the results of his actions. He does not want to hurt you physically or hurt the babe. Evidently you don’t care if you break his head. Ah, that I would have to see this. You will learn control or I imagine you will spend the next three months next to that wolfhound.”
Dame Agnes, still shaking her head, left the great hall. Servants were staring at her. Men-at-arms were staring at her. Edgar the wolfhound barked and nuzzled against her hand.
Lady Moraine brought an old gown to her bedchamber before the evening meal. “It is but for two nights. It is not a bad punishment. Do not—”
“He humiliates me beyond what I can stand. He called me a liar. He called you a liar. Does that not bother you?”
“You will run away again?”
“I cannot. None of his men would let me even go into the outer bailey. On his command. I hate your son, my lady.”
“You threw the laver at him, Hastings. Not so long ago you sent your knee into his manhood. How many other times have you attacked him?”
“He deserved it. Did you not hear him? He accused me of lying. He accused you and Agnes and Alice as well. Did that not make you want to hit him? Why do you just ignore it?”