Her face was transformed. To Baldwin it looked as wonderful as watching the sunlight flooding over the land on a clear summer’s morning. The reserved, almost cold expression she had worn through the meal became a bright, delighted smile. She jerked her head to Emma, and the maid, glowering, slammed through the door to the solar. Within a few minutes she was back, a heavy woollen cloak trimmed with fur over her arm. And a thick jacket on her back. Out of the corner of his eye, Baldwin noticed Hugh quietly leave the room.
Jeanne took the cloak and clasped it at her throat, nodding at the coat. “There’s no need for you to come as well, Emma.”
“Oh yes there is, Mistress. I cannot let you go out on your own,” said the maid with a distrustful stare at Baldwin, who stood nearby, appalled at the thought that his attempts at subtle wooing could be conducted under the baleful gaze of the maid whom he now thought of as the “Harpy from Hell.”
“I think not. You will stay here.”
“I would prefer to go with you, Lady,” Emma stated resolutely.
Baldwin was brimming with frustration. He loathed the sight of Emma, yet he couldn’t be rude to her. She wasn’t his servant, and he had no idea how much regard Jeanne had for her. Until he knew Jeanne’s thoughts, he dared not risk upsetting her by insulting her maid.
At that moment Hugh reappeared and marched up to him. “Sir Baldwin? I thought I saw someone walking out near the road, so I let Uther out. If there’s a trespasser, he will soon find them.”
“You let him out?” Baldwin repeated. “You shouldn’t have, you know he-”
“That beast? My lady, you mustn’t go out, not while that mad dog is free. You’ve seen how it attacked me when we first got here! You cannot go out.”
“Oh, I don’t fear Uther. And Baldwin will wear his sword, won’t you?”
“Eh?” Baldwin had the impression that the look that passed between Hugh and Jeanne contained more than a simple exchange of greetings. “Oh yes, of course. Well, a dagger, anyway.”
Hugh said, “Edgar told me to be careful, after the way Uther attacked that man recently. Cottey, wasn’t it?”
“You see, Mistress? That creature will eat us alive! I said it should be destroyed! It’s worse than a ravening wolf.”
“Emma, silence! I am going out, and you are staying in.” Jeanne swept around, her cloak whipping out regally, and strode to the door. Baldwin had to break into a trot to catch up with her. In the screens were several of Baldwin’s workers, and Jeanne and he had to slow down in their rush while the men all moved out of the way.
It was noticeable that none of the men seemed scared of their master. Jeanne, who had been married to a knight who had struck terror into the hearts of his peasants, was forced to take stock.
There was something awesome in a man who could instill such loyalty in his servants. Her husband had whipped and beaten his people into submission. That was the only way to make them behave, he had always asserted. Otherwise they would lapse into indolence and laziness.
Yet this strange country knight had managed a productive manor efficiently, without driving his peasants into utter submission. As Baldwin walked past, they nodded or grinned; not cowering, but meeting his look almost as equals. And Baldwin had a word for most of them, recalling all their names, asking after wives, children, or sweethearts. One man he made a detour to speak to, a ragged, worn-looking older man, with a drawn and wan face. Jeanne couldn’t hear his words, but she saw Baldwin pull some coins from his purse and press them into the other man’s hand.
She also saw the way that the people glanced at her, and was again aware of their cautious assessment, but now she was as certain as she could be that the man with whom she walked was as unlike her first husband as was possible. As they approached the door, she found herself being forced nearer to him, for the press of people was thicker here, and as they walked out into the clear evening air, she was close at his side.
“Who was that old man you were talking to?”
“The farmer? Quivil. He and his wife live out toward Crediton.”
“You spoke to him for some little while.”
“His son has developed leprosy,” Baldwin explained. “I wanted to make sure he was all right, and to offer any help I could.”
“It must be awful to lose a son like that.”
“Indeed. To see your child condemned to years of disease is somehow worse than a simple death, after a short illness.”
“Yes, for how could you look your child in the face, knowing that you live and prosper while the child dies so slowly and horribly?”
“Ah, but it’s not just that, is it? It’s not only the guilt of failing to help one’s child to grow healthily,” Baldwin said, pausing.
The scene was all silver and gray, under an almost full moon. By its clear light Jeanne could see the view rolling away into the distance between the trees. Something in Baldwin’s voice made her look at his face, and under the benevolent, if cold, glimmer, she could see he was worried.
“It’s not only the fact that the parent can see the son or daughter slip further and further from life,” he went on slowly, “it’s also seeing the jealousy and rage in the child, knowing their confusion, wanting to give them comfort and not being able to. I wonder how poor Edmund feels now.”
“He is Quivil’s son?”
“Yes. And a happier, lustier, more comely fellow you couldn’t hope to see plowing a field or reaping the corn. Poor Edmund! He was about to wed.”
“Perhaps it is fortunate that he was found out before he could marry.”
“Yes. But it seems so unfair, so unjust, that a man should be taken away into confinement just as he was about to enjoy the companionship of his woman. Even as he was preparing to enter into marriage, with the knowledge that he would henceforth have the comfort of a partner in life, that succor is stolen from him.”
“You sound as though you have considered this at length, Sir Baldwin.”
He gave a dry smile. “I have. I have sometimes seen myself as a kind of social leper.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“As a Keeper, and a knight, it’s difficult. I am often cut off from other people because of my position.”
“You are denied companionship?”
“I sometimes feel I’m denied the companionship of a woman who understands me.”
“Perhaps you might discover such a woman after all.”
“My lady, I have.”
She walked on a short way, gripping the cloak tightly around her body, her hands crossed over her breast. The knight remained where he was, and she had to turn to face him. His expression was one of mistrust-almost of suspicion. But there was a gentleness too. Jeanne knew that he had been badly hurt when she had refused his offer of marriage before, and knew that he wanted to ask again whether she would accept his hand, yet was fearful that she might reject him; he was unsure whether he could rely on her giving him the answer he craved.
“Jeanne, you know me. You have seen my land, my home, my life. Is there anything you could not grow to be comfortable with?”
She felt her breath catch. For some reason, this offer, which she had anticipated for over a year, which she had expected and mused over since she had first arrived, was now a surprise. She hadn’t thought that he could spring it on her so suddenly. “I…I don’t know!”
“Is it your last husband, Lady? Is that what makes you hesitate?”
“How can I be sure what you are like? He seemed so kind and generous before we married. How can I be sure you will not change when I marry you?”
“Me? Change? This, this is me!” he cried, and held both arms out, embracing the country before, behind, to either side, the sky above, the silver clouds chasing across it, the moon and the stars. He smiled up, his eyes fixed on the unfathomable distances, and slowly let his arms fall, and let his face drop to hers. “You know all about me. I know what I need to know about you. I am no courtly knight, and God willing, I never will be. I am the King’s officer here, and that is enough for me. Could I be enough for you?”
“I don’t know, Baldwin. I don’t know.”
Simon left his wife in their room, and walked downstairs. In the buttery he found Hugh, who was morosely filling a jug from a large barrel. As his master entered, Hugh nodded. “Ale, sir?”
