windows.
She swiped the back of her hand across her face and glared after her husband's retreating form. 'Oliver made just as many promises as you, she said in a shaking, tear-blocked voice, 'and he kept them all.
As once before, Catrin bid her husband farewell with a turned back and cold lips. She did not go down to the hall to watch him and half a dozen of his best men go out into the bailey on silent feet, their clothing dark and their faces smeared with earth. She did not lie awake in bed, listening for the cry to go up that they had been captured sneaking through the lines, for she knew that they would escape. Like a thief, Louis could move like a wraith. Like a thief, he took everything and gave nothing back.
That was not strictly true, she admitted to herself as she lay in the great bed, her body curled protectively around her tiny daughter. Whatever rumours he strewed abroad concerning the child's paternity, he had given her Rosamund and he had given her heart-sickness and grief.
Perhaps he would return within the week with a force to relieve the siege, but she knew in her heart that he would not. As always he had left others to pay his price, including a defenceless infant. She pressed her lips against Rosamund's brow and vowed to keep the baby safe whatever the cost.
The promised week came and went with no sign of a relieving force. Once their gates were almost breached and only a timely deluge of boiling water and the splitting of the ram log saved Wickham from being overrun. Their supplies dwindled and the stew became progressively less nourishing. The last bundles of arrows were brought from the undercroft and the soldiers muttered behind their hands.
Apart from the time she spent in her chamber suckling and tending Rosamund, Catrin made herself conspicuous around the keep. She took all of her meals in the hall and made a point of mingling with all the castle folk, from the ageing knight left in command of the garrison to the youngest laundry maid, and even Wulfhild, her husband's young mistress. His former mistress now, Catrin thought, as the ninth day dawned without sight or sign of help.
'He promised me a silk dress, Wulfhild sniffed, knuckling her eyes. Her hair fell in snarled blond tangles and had clearly not been combed or tended for several days, and her face had the gaunt, hollow look that came from lack of food and sleep. A mound of laundry gave off a sweaty smell beside a cauldron that had yet to be kindled. 'He promised me a house of my own with hens and geese and a cow.
'If that is all he promised, then you are fortunate, Catrin said grimly. 'You're not the first, and I doubt you'll be the last. Kneeling down, she set about lighting the fire herself.
'He will come back, won't he?
Catrin looked at the snuffling young woman, and tried to convince herself that the conversation was real. Louis's mistress asking his wife for sympathy and reassurance. Small licks of flame fluttered beneath the cauldron as the dry twigs caught fire. Standing up, Catrin dusted off her hands. 'If he does, then I will not be here, and if you had the tiniest morsel of sense, you would not cry another tear.
'What do you mean, you won't be here? The girl's eyes widened.
Catrin rubbed her thumb on her forefinger. 'We cannot hold out for many more days, and why should we? She tightened her lips. 'I won't let people starve for my husband's selfishness.
'But… but what about the soldiers out there? What will they do to us if we let them in? Wulfhild put her hand to her throat.
'We're not just going to 'let them in', Catrin said. 'We'll bargain with them first. She clicked her fingers at the laundry tub. 'You do what you are paid for and see to that mound of linen. It's not as if we're going to run out of water, is it?
Leaving the laundry, she went to her chamber and made swift preparations. Her actions had been brewing in her mind for some while. Time and again she had imagined them, so now each movement was clear. What she had not imagined was the overwhelming sense of impatience and urgency. She had to go, and immediately. If not, Louis might just appear on the horizon and blight her entire future.
She donned her two best dresses, one over the other, two pairs of hose, two loin-cloths, two braided girdles. After Penfoss, she was wary of possessing only one set of clothes. Besides, the weather was bitterly cold and she needed all the protection she could get. Her cloak came next, its lining made of fleece, and she pulled her brown hood over the top of her wimple.
Gently and tenderly, she lifted Rosamund from her cradle and wrapped the baby in her blankets until all that could be seen was a tiny triangle of eyes, nose and mouth. Placid as ever, Rosamund gurgled and blew bubbles at her mother. For the briefest moment, Catrin was distracted from her purpose and cooed at her daughter, but urgency was swift to return.
Without a backward glance at the rich hangings, the silk bedcover and tear-grey window glass, she swept from the room to find Berold, the captain of the garrison.
He gazed at her askance when she ordered him to ride out with her under a flag of truce to parley with the enemy commander. 'Lord Louis said that we were to hold out until his return, he said, and put his hand on his sword hilt in a gesture both defensive and aggressive.
'Judgement day will come before that happens, Catrin answered with asperity. 'Within the week, he said, but since when has a week lasted ten days? She looked at the balding, middle-aged knight and, amidst her irritation, felt a softening of compassion. Louis had promoted Berold beyond his competence. He was a good follower, but had no flair for leading men. 'You served old Lord Humphrey, didn't you?
'Aye, for nigh on twenty years. He bristled his sparse silver beard at her. 'What of it? Are you saying that I'm not fit to serve Lord Louis?
'No, she soothed quickly. 'I commend your experience. What I am saying is that Lord Louis is not fit to be your master.
He gave her a suspicious look and fingered the hilt of his sword.
Catrin struggled to swallow her impatience. 'Tell me, in all honesty, do you believe that Lord Louis will return with more troops?
He chewed his lower lip. 'He entrusted me with the defence of this keep. I would not want to pay him in false coin.
'It is you who is being paid in false coin, Catrin said sharply. 'To my husband, loyalty is just another side of a
die, and if fortune throws it face down he will try his luck at another game.
The knight rubbed a slick, white scar on his cheek. 'I do not know… he prevaricated. 'What if he arrives on the morrow and discovers that we have yielded the keep?
Catrin gritted her teeth. 'He is not returning, Berold. I doubt that we can hold out until the morrow anyway. I have to do my best for these people, my daughter and myself.
Grudgingly the old man nodded. 'But what if their terms are not lenient?
'They will be, she said, with far more confidence than she felt. 'I am not without influence of my own.
Berold pinched his scar and frowned. 'Aye, but I had heard that it was influence with King Stephen. These men are all for the Empress.
'You heard but only half the tale. She started towards the hall door, knowing that if she did not move she would scream. 'And that is the problem with listening to my husband. I cannot pull victory out of defeat but I hope I can lessen the damage.
The leader of the attacking troops was a hard-bitten Welshman called Madoc. He was somewhat surprised, not to say indignant, at being asked to parley with a woman, a swaddled infant and a small, scarred knight with about as much presence as a dead chicken.
'Is this a mark of Wickham's respect or the best you can do? he scoffed.
? 'You should not mock our best, since it has held you at bay for longer than you wish, Catrin replied with spirit. 'The snow will come soon and it will be difficult to keep your men in the field.
'Oh, I intend to be within Wickham's walls long before the first flakes fall. Fists clenched in his swordbelt, the soldier studied her. 'But you have come to parley, not to bandy words. What is it you want?
Catrin shifted Rosamund's sleepy weight on her arm. Beside her she could feel Berold's tension. He was far from happy with the situation but could see that they had small choice. 'In return for a guarantee of safety for everyone in Wickham from the richest to poorest, I will yield the castle to you.
