Elen signaled to the plump serving maid who had been squatting on her heels before the blazing fire and the girl disappeared. Elen snorted. “There’s a lazy wench. She wouldn’t lift a finger if she didn’t have to. I’ll be bound she sends someone else up with it.” She began to busy herself packing away the last of the clothes and strapping the small coffer that stood at the end of the bed. Sure enough, when the broth arrived, it was not carried by the same girl. Elen went to meet the woman who held it. “I’ll give it to my lady. You can go.”
The woman handed it over without a word. She seemed about to turn, then she hesitated, her eyes going to the tall figure standing huddled in the heavy mantle by the end of the bed.
“
“I said you can go.” Elen turned, her eyes flashing. “My lady does not want to be disturbed. Leave her in peace.”
The other woman half raised her hand as though waving Elen aside. To the girl’s indignation she took a step nearer. “Be silent,
Matilda swung around suddenly, letting her cloak fall behind her. “Who’s that?” She peered at the woman, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest at the sound of a voice that stirred a chord in her memory. “What do you want?” As the woman looked up at her at last she recognized her with a violent sense of shock. “Megan,” she whispered. “Is it you?”
“So you remember me, my lady?” Megan stood for a moment, her hands clasped in front of her, looking steadily at Matilda’s face.
Matilda looked down at the carpet of rushes, gently rustling in the draft. “I tried to forget, Megan. I tried to forget everything that happened at Abergavenny. Even you.”
Megan nodded. “I knew you would.”
“What is it?” Elen suddenly stepped forward. “What is it, my lady? Who is this…this person?” She looked Megan up and down haughtily.
“This person,
Matilda raised an eyebrow. “Elen is my friend, Megan. Only I tell her to go.”
“Well, then, tell her, my lady, now and quickly. If she’s so high and mighty, why’s she waiting on you then? She should be in the hall.”
Matilda hid a smile. The two Welshwomen were alike in height and build, although Elen’s hair was fiery and Megan’s white beneath her veil. They were eyeing each other like two bantam cocks.
“Do as she says, please, Elen.” She spoke firmly. “I’ll take my broth while Megan is with me.” She held out her hand for the bowl.
Elen cast a furious glance at her rival, then, pushing the now half-empty bowl of soup into her mistress’s hands, she turned and flounced out.
Once she had gone, Megan seemed to lose her confidence once more. She stood, her eyes on the floor, twisting her fingers nervously together as Matilda sank thankfully into her chair and picked up the carved bone spoon. The room was silent for a while as she drank. Then at last, stifling the nausea that had returned as soon as the soup was finished, she looked up and forced a smile.
“I’m glad to see you again, Megan.”
“Well, that’s as may be.” The older woman stood erect before the fire. Then suddenly she seemed to make up her mind to speak. She went to crouch beside Matilda’s chair, her voice lowered.
“I’ve come to tell you not to go to Abergavenny again, my lady. That’s all I can be saying about it. Don’t go there.”
Matilda shivered. “I don’t want to, Megan, believe me. But if my husband says we must…”
To her amazement Megan rose and turned away to spit viciously into the hot embers.
“If your husband says he must, Lady Matilda, well and good. Let him go. But not you.”
“Why, Megan?” Matilda glanced sideways at her, suddenly suspicious, as the other woman’s pleasant, round face became stony and defiant.
“Maybe I know a good reason, maybe I don’t,” she announced. “Just remember, I’m telling you. Now I must away back to my people before they find I’m gone.” She rose to leave but Matilda was too quick for her. Forgetting her sickness, she jumped up and grabbed Megan’s wrist.
“I forbid you to go yet. Tell me what you know.”
Megan glanced half fearfully over her shoulder. “Indeed I won’t, for I shall say nothing, my lady. I’ve already said too much. I should not have come to you indeed.” She wrenched her arm free of Matilda’s grasp and fled through the door, her leather shoes pattering down the broad stairs.
Matilda moved to follow her, then she stopped and went back to her chair with a shrug. If the woman refused to say anything, there was no more to be done. She stood for a moment, thinking. Megan had braved a great deal perhaps to come and warn her, for the sake of their day of friendship so many years before. She put her hand to her aching back, then bent to pick up her fallen cloak from the rushes and warily wrapped it around her. William had to be warned, of course. She picked up the silver handbell by her chair and rang it for Elen. He must be told without delay. She breathed a fervent prayer that Megan, if she still wanted to guard her silence, had already left the castle. She didn’t like to think of Megan, however stubborn, being subjected to the full brunt of William’s anger in one of the dungeons below the keep if she refused to tell him the source of her information.
William’s men, however, when they fanned out in their exhaustive search of the castle, found no trace of Megan, nor had anyone been able to think how she had come to be there. She was not known by anyone at Monmouth, nor had anyone seen her come or go, save the trembling girl who had willingly given up to her the chore of carrying up the hot soup.
“I’ve already sent messengers to Abergavenny,” William announced, stamping into Matilda’s chamber an hour later. “You and I will ride on as far as Dingestow to see how Ranulf Poer fares with the rebuilding of the fabric of the castle there. It may be that I shall wait there with him till the building season is over. You can ride on to Hay.” He rubbed his hands ruefully. “Winter is coming early this year. There won’t be many more weeks before the snows arrive if it goes on like this. What ails you, Moll?” He suddenly rounded on her irritably. “Has this wretched woman upset you?” He seemed to have noticed for the first time her pinched pale face and stooping back.
She forced a smile. “No, William, it’s not that. I’m afraid I’m breeding again. I’m feeling sick with it, that’s all.”
He looked relieved. Not wanting to believe that Megan’s warning might have any substance himself, he had resented the thought that Matilda might be frightened by it. “The ride’ll soon perk you up! I was afraid for a moment you were ill,” he said gruffly, and he rested his hand awkwardly for a moment on her shoulder. From time to time there were moments almost of tenderness between them now. “It’ll be good to have another baby to keep you occupied, eh?” He gave a gruff laugh. “Now, the horses are waiting. This business with the Welshwoman has delayed us long enough. Let’s ride.” He swung on his heel and, slowly, clutching her cloak around her, she followed him down the stairs.
The extensive alterations on the remains of the old castle of Dingestow were nearly completed. As they rode along the newly cleared track toward it at the head of their troop of horsemen, Matilda saw the low curtain walls swarming with men. Obviously Poer was trying to finish the outer defenses before the weather put a stop to the season’s building. A thin film of ice turned the moat a milky blue beneath the frosted sky as they clattered across the bridge, which was still supported by a framework of scaffolding.
Ranulf Poer was seated by a blazing fire in the echoing keep, the plans for the castle spread before him on the table. He pulled himself painfully to his feet at their approach, his foxlike features sharper and more prominent than ever, his hair snow-white. He greeted them distantly, his mind obviously still half on the plans before him.
“We haven’t long to finish the walls,” he commented, showing William the outline on one of the pieces of
