to be tall for a woman, perhaps even reaching his own height, which was a little short of two yards. But with the changes to her body, came difficult fluctuations of mood. He had endured a similar stage himself as an uncertain youth of fourteen summers, his voice slipping from high to low, like a file across a sword blade, his burgeoning private parts a source of wonder, embarrassment, and pleasure. Of course, it was different for girls, but he still thought he understood, and held back to give her a little space. Or perhaps the space was for himself.
CHAPTER 44
'He's marrying my sister today,' Julitta announced to the industrious bees circling around the entrance of the basketwork hive. It was a glorious autumn morning, and although the insects were not as active as they had been in midsummer, there was still late pollen to be gathered and harvested. 'I know I should have told you before, but I did not want to believe that it was real.' Lightly she spread her fingers against the side of the skep. 'I wish it was me,' she whispered, her throat closing with tears.
Earlier that morning she had helped Gisele to dress in a wedding gown of palest blue silk, cut in the new fashion which moulded to the body. Gisele's supple, boyish figure was well suited to the style, and the colour was a perfect foil for her clear grey eyes. Her fine, silver-brown hair had been washed in chamomile and brushed down to her hips in token of her virginity, and a chaplet of wild flowers crowned her brow. Gisele had always been pretty, but today, attired for her wedding, she looked breathtaking, and Julitta had been filled with bitter jealousy. In the end, to avoid being physically sick, she had fled the chamber full of chattering, gossiping women, and escaped to the sanctuary of her bee skeps.
The morning dew had soaked through Julitta's thin, gilded shoes, darkening the leather. The hem of her dress was damp too. Lady Arlette would scold her, but Julitta did not care a bean for the woman's opinion. Indeed, just now she hated her. Julitta's attire for the wedding had been carefully selected by her father's wife. The gown was cut in a similar fashion to Gisele's, but not quite so closely moulded, so that Julitta's delectable curves were not displayed to their best advantage. While the over-dress was not expensive silk like Gisele's, it was nevertheless of a superb quality linen, heavy and close-woven. Arlette could scarcely be accused of parsimony. Julitta had never owned such a fine gown, but the bright orangey-yellow colour of the fabric was disastrous against her pale, satin skin and rich garnet hair. She looked as if she was suffering from an excess of the yellow bile. Julitta had been more than tempted to take from her coffer the knife of which Arlette so disapproved, and use it to slash the offending garment to shreds.
Julitta was not vain by nature — usually she did not care what she wore, but she was accustomed to seeing admiration in men's eyes, in Benedict's in particular, and was mortified to know that today he would look nowhere save at his bride.
'It isn't fair,' she muttered to the bees. 'Ben should be mine.'
'Found you at last,' said Mauger impatiently. 'They're all looking for you. It's time to go to church.'
Guiltily, Julitta whirled to face her father's overseer. He was dressed in a tunic of dark blue wool trimmed with scarlet braid. His heavy blond hair had the feathery look of recent washing, and there was even a gold ring on one of his fingers. It was easy to forget when his daily garb consisted of plain shirts, worn tunics and dusty chausses that he was a landholder in his own right. Today he was the lord of Fauville, and wore his rank boldly.
'Lady Arlette said you'd be here,' Mauger added when she continued to stare at him without speaking, torn between resentment and surprise. 'She says you always visit the hives when you're out of temper.'
'I'm not out of temper,' Julitta snapped.
Silently Mauger held out her cloak. It was a slightly darker orange than her dress and equally disastrous to her complexion. Gracelessly, she snatched it from him and put it on.
Mauger observed her from beneath his brows. 'Lady Arlette says that you're to stay with me until we reach church,' he said brusquely, and led her to his tethered horse. 'You're to sit pillion.' He gathered the reins and gained the saddle, then reached down for her hand to pull her up behind him. Julitta perched on the horse's rump and grasped his belt to hold herself secure. Mauger's neck reddened, and he shifted uneasily in the saddle as if there was a thorn under his buttocks. The proximity of his lord's young and nubile daughter performed a disturbing alchemy on his body.
They rode in silence. Julitta was in no mood to make conversation and Mauger was more taciturn than ever, his mind occupied with ambitious thoughts, not unconnected with the discomfort of his half-erect manhood.
When they arrived at the church in the village, he dismounted and helped Julitta down from the horse. Her body grazed against his as he set her on the ground and involuntarily his hands tightened. Jesu, it was almost more than a man could bear.
Julitta pulled away from him, disliking the dampness of his palms and the look in his eyes. He reminded her of Merielle's clients at Dame Agatha's bathhouse and she did not want to be with him. She stared round, saw Felice and Aubert de Remy, and in relief hastened over to them. Mauger wrapped his fists around his belt and followed her, his head slightly lowered, giving him the aspect of a charging bull.
Felice greeted Julitta with a warm hug and sound kisses on both cheeks. 'Let me look at you, child! My, haven't you grown!'
Julitta grimaced and plucked at the skirt of the dress. 'I hate this. She did it deliberately. I'd rather be wearing that old blue gown you gave me in London!'
'Nonsense! Look at how rich and heavy this material is.' There was a hint of censure in her voice, as if she thought Julitta was being ungrateful.
'Yes, so I'll have to wear it as my best gown for ever and ever!'Julitta's eyes darkened. 'She didn't even ask me if I liked it, just chose and bought it herself from the mercer. She doesn't want me to compete with Gisele.'
Aubert raised a wry brow at his wife, cleared his throat, and excused himself, pausing only to put his arm across Mauger's shoulders and tactfully lead him away too.
Felice tried to soothe Julitta's ruffled feathers, but with little success, for she was only uttering platitudes and both of them knew it.
'Perhaps you could dye it another colour,' Felice suggested, cocking her head on one side. 'If you could darken it a few shades, it would go well with your hair.'
Julitta's eyes brightened at the thought of stuffing the gown in a vat of water with leaves of lady's bedstraw and pummelling it viciously with a pole. Perhaps she could arrange something next time the homespun wools were being dyed.
'Anyway,' Felice added softly, 'this is Gisele's day. You would not want to outshine the bride, would you?'
Julitta lowered her gaze without speaking. She wanted to be the bride.
Felice eyed her compassionately. 'You are very young,' she said. 'Too young to know your own mind, but old enough to think you do and feel the pain. It will pass, believe me.'
Julitta shook her head. She had known her own mind since she was five yean old, and she had given up believing a long time ago.
The marriage ceremony took place in the porch of the church as was the custom. Bride and groom clasped hands in the presence of the priest and the wedding guests, and spoke the formal, binding words, neither of them faltering, both firm and clear. Benedict was resplendent in a tunic of rich crimson wool and blue chausses, the colours setting off his dark good looks. Julitta had never seen him appear so handsome, nor Gisele so beautiful. She heard other guests murmuring what a well-matched couple they were, how fortunate the families were in having such fine heirs.
Julitta watched Arlette fuss and preen at the compliments, saw the pride in her father's eyes as they followed the bride and groom towards the waiting horses. Beside Julitta, Felice was sniffing and dabbing at her eyes.
