Catrin shook her head. 'I'm sorry, she forced out, feeling wretched.
The hardness left his face, and the glint of anger died in his eyes. 'And I am sorry for being so swift to take offence. Let us call a truce before you've nothing to make a meal but crumbs.
Catrin glanced down at her mangled bread which, in truth, she did not feel very much like eating. But to show that she was willing to agree to his truce, she raised a morsel to her mouth. Once she started to chew, she discovered that she was ravenous. The previous night's vigil had taken its toll on her energy, and she polished off the remains of her bread in short order, together with a large lump of cheese.
'So, he said, adroitly changing the subject as he finished his own meal, 'is life in the bower any more appealing for the sake of another day and night?
'It would stifle me if I had to remain there the day long. She took a drink of the cider which had been served with the bread and cheese. 'The Countess has been very kind, but I cannot bear all the shrewish remarks and tittle-tattle. Trivial matters are exaggerated out of all proportion. What does it matter if the hem of a gown is not quite straight, or someone spills a drip of wine on the napery?
He looked amused for a moment, but then he sobered. 'So, you are not content?
'Oh, no, I would not have you think me ungrateful. I am happy enough and I do have other matters to occupy my time. She used the moment of drinking her cider to look at him through her lashes. She did not relish the thought of another confrontation, and Etheldreda had said that he would 'burst his hauberk' when he discovered that she was embarking on a career of herb-lore and midwifery.
'Other matters? He raised his brows.
For an instant Catrin was trapped by his scrutiny. His eyes were grey; not the light, sharp hue of glass which she would have associated with such fair hair, but a darker, storm-water colour that in dull light could be mistaken for brown. Less to be seen, more to be discovered and, like dark water, to draw her down. Catrin mentally shook herself. Lack of sleep was making her fanciful. 'Things that concern women, she fenced.
His brows twitched together and she saw a question gathering behind them. Now it was her turn to change the subject. 'Richard wants to sleep with the other squires in the boys' dorter, she said quickly. 'Could you approach Earl Robert on his behalf? Etheldreda's sleeping potion has worked its wonder on him, and he slept much better last night — or he would have done were it not for Edon's travail. Her voice was swift and breathless, and his frown remained.
'Gladly I will speak to the Earl. I have to make my report to him anyway concerning Penfoss. He drained his cup. 'But first, will you show me where Amice is buried?
Catrin was ashamed at the alacrity with which she rose from the board to show him a dead woman's grave. But she could not have endured to sit much longer beneath the darkness of his gaze. Outside in the open air, it was diluted, less potent.
He looked at the freshly turned scar of soil and the chaplet of gillyflowers lying on top of it, the petals drooping a little now, but still brave of colour. He picked it up and turned it round in his hands. 'Rest in the garden, he said softly, then laid it back upon the grave and made the sign of the cross.
Catrin's throat swelled and she shed a few tears, but they were of healing and lightened her heart.
For a moment, Oliver stood in silent contemplation, then turned to leave. 'Now to Earl Robert, he said, but paused to brush his thumb across the tear-tracks on Catrin's face. 'I'll seek you later and tell you the outcome.
She nodded and thanked him, but stepped away from his touch and replaced it with a quick swipe of her palm. His expression became rueful. 'If you were a plant, you would be a thistle, he said, but there was a smile in his eyes, if not on his lips, as he inclined his head and went on his way.
Catrin watched his progress across the bailey; his lean, blue-clad form and the glint of his hair, dried now to flaxen brightness. Since Lewis had died, she had lowered her guard to no one except Richard and Amice, and only then in small measure. Now she was perplexed to find it dissolving, and herself powerless to prevent it. Perhaps it was time to forget the pain left by Lewis's death and salve the wound with the balm of another man's attention.
Catrin pondered the thought as she followed slowly in Oliver's wake. Lewis had been slender, handsome, quick as a fox, with all a fox's charm and cunning, and a voracious appetite too.
Oliver was tall, big-boned and fair, with a powerful sense of duty and a dry sense of humour that matched her own. But for the rest, what did she know? He had grieved long for his young wife, as she had grieved for Lewis. His lands were forfeit to the vagaries of war, and his friends were mercenaries whom he would not stand to be questioned. Ethel said he would be furious to know that Catrin intended learning midwifery skills. But it was no concern of his and he had no right… unless she gave it to him.
Frowning deeply, Catrin wandered back into the keep, her mind so occupied that she almost collided with Rohese on the stairs leading up to the bower.
'Mind where you're going! the embroideress snapped.
Catrin looked at the flush on the high, perfect cheekbones, the slightly swollen red lips, and the wimple set askew, tendrils of hair snaking around Rohese's hectic face. 'At least I don't have to mind where I've been, she retorted nimbly, and was pleased to see her barb hit home as Rohese recoiled, her blue eyes growing first wide, then narrow.
'There is no place for you among the Countess's women! she hissed. 'Who are you to call me to account when your former mistress was nothing but a whore!
'At least she did not need love philtres to make a man take notice.
'What has that old hag been saying to you?
'Nothing, I have eyes to see. Does the Countess know where you go?
'If you so much as open your mouth to my lady, I will sew it shut! Stay out of my business!
'Gladly, if you leave me in peace to go about mine.
Rohese glared at her, then whirled and ran on up the stairs. Catrin followed more slowly. Her knees were weak, but nevertheless there was a smile on her lips, for she judged that she had got the better of the argument.
Chapter 8
Both of Oliver's petitions to Earl Robert were successful.
'I would have sent the lad to the boys' dorter myself, eventually, Robert said. 'If he is ready to go now, then it shows his resilience. He can take up his own squire's duties too, instead of doing half that rascal Thomas's work. His thin lips curved. 'I had noticed.
Once more Oliver was in the Earl's solar. He kept his back to the mural painting, but felt its presence like a pressure between his shoulder blades. 'Yes, my lord.
Robert tilted his head. 'You seem to have set yourself up as a guardian to him and the woman, he observed. 'I saw you sitting with her during the breaking of fast. His glance travelled from Oliver to the Countess who was sitting in the window embrasure, a piece of sewing in her lap and a small, silky dog sleeping at her side.
'She took me to see Amice de Cormel's grave, and I did promise that I would not abandon her and the lad once I had brought them to Bristol.
The Earl grunted. 'Commendable, he said.
The Countess spoke up from her corner. 'I suppose you had a hand in arranging for the midwife to take Catrin beneath her wing? Etheldreda used to be one of your family retainers, did she not?
Oliver stared. 'My lady?
Mabile's cow-brown eyes widened 'I assumed it was at your instigation. Was it not?
'My lady, I know nothing of what you speak. Completely baffled, Oliver spread his hands. 'All she said to me was that she had found 'women's matters' to occupy her time, and I took it to mean of the sewing and weaving kind.
Mabile clucked her tongue. 'Then she did not tell you that she is to train as a midwife under the guidance of Dame Etheldreda? I have given Catrin leave to remain in the bower or sleep in the hall, as she chooses. I have also promised her that Etheldreda can have one of the permanent shelters against the bailey wall, instead of living
