She was the heiress to Ashlin, but it was now her husband who was in charge. But did she still have any control, or influence, over her lands and her people? Or had her value been only in her lands? How was she to learn these things? Who could tell her?
She felt so terribly ill prepared in every way to be a wife and chatelaine. Did the king not consider this when he made his decision?
Chapter 7
The snow was falling heavily as darkness descended. The track would have been impossible to find had not men come from the manor, torches in hand, to guide them home. He had paid little attention to the design of the manor when he had passed through last summer. Now he noted the stone wall about the demesne. It would need to be built higher if the house was to be seriously protected from the Welsh. When they stopped before the house, Ranulf slipped easily from his saddle, turned, and lifted Elf down. Turning again, he walked directly through the open door of the house with her in his arms.
'Cedric has told me,' he said to her, 'that it is an old custom to carry the bride across the threshold of her home.'
'It is?' She had not known, but then what would she know of such things? She shivered.
'Where is the solar?' he asked.
'Follow me, my lord, my lady, and welcome home,' Cedric said.
'Put me down,' Elf said softly. The solar? Why was he taking her to the solar? Did he mean to immediately consummate their marriage? He had certainly not been able to do so before due to the sleeping arrangements in the religious guest houses.
'You are cold, and tired,' he said quietly. 'Do you have a woman to take care of you, Eleanore?' God’s blood! She was the sweetest armful he had ever carried. Lighter than a feather and so precious. From the moment he had seen her, he had been attracted to her, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought to possess her. The king, he knew, had considered giving her to Jean de Burgonne, another of his loyal knights, but Geoffrey de Bohun had noted that de Burgonne was not really a man with a need for a wife. De Burgonne had laughed heartily and agreed.
'An almost nun?' he said with a rough chortle. 'God save me, my liege, but I should rather not, given the choice. I like my women saucier than sweeter, and very experienced. Give me a wicked wench who knows how to please a man, and the saints protect me from a shrinking virgin.'
King Stephen looked to Ranulf. 'And do you feel the same way, Ranulf?'
'Nay, my lord, I should be happy for a wife, especially a propertied one as the lady Eleanore of Ashlin. I have reached the age where I am beginning to feel my old wounds each time the rain threatens, my liege. A snug home and a wife will suit me well.'
'She probably has a face like a horse,' de Burgonne teased. 'All these nuns in training do, it has been my experience.'
Ranulf had said nothing.
A tiny smile touched King Stephen’s lips, for he knew that his knight had passed through Ashlin only recently. The girl was surely pretty. He realized in retrospect that she was probably better off with the quieter knight than she would have been with the rowdy Jean de Burgonne. 'Very well, Ranulf de Glandeville, you shall have Eleanore of Ashlin for your wife, with all her property and possessions. You will, of course, renew your oath of fealty to me as the new lord of Ashlin. I am relieved to have a man of your abilities on the border.'
'God’s mercy!' A voice cut into his thoughts, and he focused his eyes to see an old lady hurrying forward. 'My baby! Is she hurt?'
'She is cold and tired,' Ranulf answered.
'This is Ida, my lord,' Cedric said. 'She is the lady Eleanore’s old nursemaid.'
'Put me down, my lord, I can stand, I assure you,' Elf told him. Again she noted his concern for her and was touched.
Ida pulled Elf’s gloves from her hands. 'Your fingers are like ice!' she said, then glared at her new master. 'Could you not have kept her warmer?' Without waiting for an answer, she took Elf’s cloak and drew her to the fireplace. 'Come, my child, and let me warm you. Cedric, why do you stand there? Bring my lady some mulled wine. We must heat her blood.'
'I will leave you, lady,' the new lord of Ashlin said, and after bowing, departed the solar with the steward.
'The old woman is too protective,' Cedric grumbled. 'She thinks my lady still a child, for she lost care of her when the lady Eleanore was only five. Now she will be in her glory again.'
'Is there a young woman among the serfs who would suit my lady as a maid? I can see Ida’s heart is good, but the work of caring for my wife may prove too great for her. She does not appear to be the sort of female who would ask for aid,' Ranulf said.
'You mark the old woman well,' Cedric noted. 'Aye, I will seek among the girls to see who will best suit Ida’s temperament. I will tell her now that my lady is grown and wed, she must have at least two servants, Ida having the senior rank. That will please her vanity.'
'The hall is well kept,' the lord noted. His gaze swept about the polished stone floors, the blazing fireplace, the shining candlesticks upon the high board.
'The servents know their duty, my lord,' Cedric answered, 'but they will be better for the lady’s fine hand now that she is home.'
Ranulf drew a bench near the roaring fire and, taking a cup of mulled wine from the steward, cradled the silver goblet between his big hands. He sipped the hot brew. The storm outside the house was a fierce one, and he would be confined indoors until it was over. Only then could he inspect his new holding. He had seen the shadowed buildings as they had ridden into the demesne. Barns, a church, huts. The livestock would surely be safe and sheltered. He was not the only one who sensed the storm. The serfs were men of the earth and would have known. Still. 'Cedric,' he called, and then he asked his questions.
The steward smiled reassuringly. 'The cattle and the sheep were brought in from their pasturage yesterday, my lord. All is well.'
He nodded, relieved, and concentrated upon his cup, looking into the dancing flames, feeling warm again for the first time in days.
Cedric came to him some time later. 'The food is served, my lord. The lady has asked to be excused tonight as she is quite exhausted. Old Ida brought her a small meal on a tray.'
'Of course,' he said, and went to sit at the high board. The trestles below were empty but for Fulk, the manor’s sergeant at arms and his few men. Coining forward before sitting down, Fulk introduced himself, bowing to his new lord, and promising a report on the manor’s defenses in the morning.
'Are you free, or serf?' Ranulf asked.
'Free, my lord, although I was born a serf here. The lord Robert set me free when he saw where my talents lay. He said I would fight better if I was free. That was over thirty years ago, my lord.'
'The lord Robert was obviously correct, Fulk, as I am told the Welsh
