Fourteen

 

 

Rosamond didn't want to admit it, but her illness had left her so weak she could scarcely walk. Delightful though it was to be carried in Sir Warin's arms, she had no desire to be known as the princess who swooned at the slightest excuse. As she'd slept, she'd mastered her gifts, so that she'd healed Warin's scratches even as he made love to her.

If only he'd taken the time to do it again this morning, once she realised this was no longer a dream. She lived, and she had successfully persuaded him to make her his wife. A wife who intended to take great delight in her marriage bed, for her husband knew how to please her.

Her return home should be proud and triumphant, as befitted a betrothed princess, but between her own frailty and the absence of her horse, she wasn't sure how she would achieve such a spectacle. Least of all in the hose and tunic Sir Warin tossed to her.

Of course she could hardly ride naked, but she'd had countless new gowns made for Queen Margareta's coronation. Surely Sir Warin could not have burned them all.

Yet...it seemed he had. Not only was all the cloth gone, but all her clothing, too. She toyed with the idea of sending him to the nearest town to procure something proper for a princess to wear, but that meant he would have to leave her alone here, for who knew how long?

No.

It was a set of his own ill-fitting garments or nothing. When they reached a town, then she would insist he find something to replace what he had burned.

He helped her dress, then lifted her onto the back of his palfrey. For a while, he walked beside the horse, with the reins wrapped around his hand, but when Rosamond came close to fainting in the summer heat, he mounted up behind her, and only his strong arms kept her from slipping out of the saddle.

"Rest, Rosamond. I shall keep you safe," he promised.

Sleepily, she nodded, and the rest of the journey passed in what she described as a blurry doze. Sometimes she opened her eyes to bright sunlight, and at others to starry darkness. The one constant was Sir Warin's reassuring presence, for even at night, he held her in his arms. Though his hands did not slide under her tunic even once, to her disappointment. She was too weak to properly enjoy the attention, she told herself. Once they were home in the castle, and she had recovered properly, then she would tell him to take her again and again until she was sated.

She drifted from dream to dream, waking only to dream again, until one morning she opened her eyes and saw the wooden beams of a ceiling instead of the sky above. Now she woke fully, aware of being alone in a bed, with no idea of how long she had been there.

"Hello?" she called, annoyed. "Monika? Sir Warin? Anyone?"

The door to the room opened and a maidservant entered, bowing her head. She was too young to be Monika. "They are not here, my lady," the girl said. "I have orders to serve you and see that you are well when the master returns. Is there anything I can bring you, my lady? Some wine, something to eat, or a physician? The master thought you might be ill."

"I am not ill," Rosamond snapped. As a healer, she was far more knowledgeable about such things than some stupid physician. "Bring me fruit, and meat, and yes, some wine. Then fetch me my clothes."

The girl dropped a deep curtsey. "Yes, my lady."

She returned some time later with a tray of food and drink. Rosamond did her best, but she could barely eat more than a few mouthfuls. The wine was much too strong, threatening to turn her stomach. She had eaten little on the journey, and she estimated that she had stayed in the ruined convent for perhaps a week, so perhaps her stomach had shrunk from eating so little. No matter. She would be back to normal in no time.

When she was certain she could not eat another bite, Rosamond said, "Where are my clothes? I must dress. I wish to sit in the garden."

"I will ask the housekeeper, my lady. She was still searching for your clothes when I brought your breakfast." The girl took the barely touched tray and hurried out.

When the girl returned, Rosamond had fallen into a doze, but she roused herself quickly. "Well?" Rosamond demanded.

"Draga says you had no things with you when you arrived, but she is looking through some of the chests of old clothes, to see if we have anything that will fit you, my lady."

Old clothes. Rosamond sniffed. When she was well once more, she would summon a dressmaker to make anew all the garments Sir Warin had burned. In the meantime...she would accept the housekeeper's charity, for it was surely the best the woman had. When she saw Sir Warin again, she would instruct him on how to treat a princess when she was a guest in his home, for she guessed she was in his house. She was certainly not in her parents' castle, for there was no stonework to be seen.

Two menservants entered the room, bearing an enormous chest between them. An older woman, who Rosamond assumed was Draga, the housekeeper, followed them.

Draga stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing Rosamond as though she was a piece of meat. "Skinny, with no hips to speak of. A poor choice in a wife, and I shall tell the master so."

Rosamond's temper flared. "Your master has better judgement than you. There is nothing wrong with my hips, as your master knows well." In fact, his hands had held her hips fast as he thrust deep into her, and she longed for him to do it again. "I hope you brought clothes befitting someone of my rank. I will not dress like a peasant, nor a man."

Draga's eyes flashed. "The clothes in that chest belonged to the Lady Schutz when she was a girl. Nothing else in the house will fit. If they are not good enough for you, then I suggest you return from whence you came and leave the master to find a proper wife, not one so full of airs and graces." Her eyes narrowed. "With no hips." She waved at the young maidservant. "Agnna, you take care of her highness. I have more important things to do." The housekeeper strode out of the room before Rosamond could form a reply to such breathtakingly bad manners.

At least the housekeeper had recognised her as a princess, Rosamond consoled herself, though the honorific had sounded more like an insult on Draga's lips. No matter. As the lady of the house, Rosamond could dismiss the woman and engage someone more appropriate, if she wished.

Agnna didn't seem to have noticed the housekeeper's rudeness. Perhaps the girl was used to it. She fell to her knees beside the chest and lifted the lid. "Lady Schutz always looks so lovely. I'm sure these gowns will be everything you could want, my lady," she breathed, drawing out the first one, a simple dress of black linen. Or was it dark grey? Rosamond could not be sure. The second gown the girl lifted out was a much more becoming shade of pink, though it, too, looked like it might have faded. "This is beautiful. I have never touched cloth so smooth."

That got Rosamond's attention. "Is it silk? Bring it here." She reached for the dress and was relieved to find that it was indeed silk. As were most of the dresses in the chest. Rosamond selected the gowns in shades of pink and green, before dismissing the rest as unsuitable. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least she would have something to wear until the castle dressmaker could create a new wardrobe befitting both a princess and Sir Warin's new bride.

For a bride she would be. He had asked, and she had accepted, and they had already consummated their union beneath the moonlight.

Her father would not refuse this match, she was certain of it. Especially not if she announced it to him herself before Sir Warin asked for her hand.

"Does my father know I am here?" Rosamond asked.

"I do not know, my lady. I can send word to him, if you wish. But surely he must know, for if you are to marry the master, he would have your father's blessing. He is very strict about matters of honour, is the master. There are tales of maids in other households being...dishonoured, but you will never hear of such a thing here." Agnna sounded quite proud of this.

"Is that because the dragon of a housekeeper does not allow the servants to spread such vicious rumours?" Rosamond asked.

Agnna clapped a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. "No, my lady, and her name is Draga, not dragon, though when she is angry, sometimes I think she might breathe fire, she is so fearsome. They are more than rumours. Why, Lord Vamos has sent away four kitchen maids this year alone. All pregnant, and all unwed. Some say it is the lord himself who does the deed, but others whisper that it is his son, Fodor."

"A lord and his son who seduce the women of their household, pledging their love with no intention of marrying the girls? Who would do such a thing? Surely, honour cannot be so dead!" Rosamond exclaimed.

"My lady, there is little of love when a man desires a woman. It is different with the master, for what woman would not want him? High and honourable as he is, I do not believe he would seduce a woman without marriage on his mind. But any other nobleman...if he wishes to bed one of his servants, the girl has no choice but to obey. I heard that Moxa, Lady Vamos' maid, tried to refuse, but they beat her so badly that in the end she begged Fodor to take her so the beatings would stop. She still lost her position, and none will employ a fallen woman."

"Fallen? Or forced?" Rosamond asked sharply.

Agnna shrugged. "There is little difference in the law of the land. It protects noblemen, not us."

"When I am queen, I will change that," Rosamond vowed. "No woman should be forced to lie with a man against her will. It is barbaric."

"I wish you every blessing in your endeavour, my lady," Agnna said. "But...better not to speak of such things to the master for a while yet. He has so many other, more important cares on his shoulders nowadays, what with being Lord Protector and all. Best to pay attention to making him happy and saving your strength for the wedding." She looked up at Rosamond. "Will you need my help dressing, my lady?"

"No," Rosamond replied. "I think I still need to rest a little longer. Perhaps tomorrow. You may go."

The girl left the room, but Rosamond was so deep in thought she barely noticed. Before, Rosamond had believed that being queen was an irritating obligation, and marrying well would allow her to leave ruling up to her husband. No more. Not if women were being raped by the very noblemen the kingdom depended on to protect the people.

Lord Vamos, his son and any other man who thought women were chattels to be used and thrown away were in for a rude shock when she ascended the throne. For the first time in her life, she looked forward to her coronation.