want it, he grinned.
'Does that mean you are going to keep me busy, sire? Catrin replied with a broad smile of her own.
He laughed and bounced the baby back to its mother. 'Man may plan, but heaven executes, he said. 'Nevertheless, it will be no hardship to endeavour my best. In high good humour, he paid her fee and gave her a ring of notched gold and garnet from his middle finger.
In high good humour herself, Catrin made her way back across the tower precincts to the small house against the outer wall that she and Oliver shared. As she approached, she heard gales of laughter and, rounding the corner, came upon her six-year-old daughter, blunt spear in hand, attacking young Richard FitzRoy. He was fending her off with his shield, while his dog leaped and barked around the two of them, its tail wagging like a flail. Leaning against the doorpost, Oliver watched the scene, an indulgent grin on his face.
'So this is how you spend your time when I'm not by, Catrin admonished with mock severity.
Rosamund whirled, her black braid as glossy as a raven's wing in the spring sunshine. 'Richard's teaching me to fight with a spear! Her voice was sharp with excitement and her cheeks were flushed, making her eyes look darker and brighter than ever. They were her father's legacy, as were her quickness and grace. She had a lethal quantity of his mercurial charm too.
'It's blunt, Richard said swiftly. 'She'll come to no harm. He stood head and shoulders above Catrin now. His adult features were developing apace and there was the lightest hint of a beard on his chin. During the last year his voice had deepened and his narrow girth increased. It was becoming very difficult for Catrin to remember the small boy whose nightmares had woken the Countess's women in Bristol after the raid on Penfoss.
'And learning to fight is more exciting than spinning wool or stitching cloth, Catrin nodded, stifling a smile. She ruffled the dog's thick, tawny fur. 'Richard, you will be pleased to know that Prince Henry has just made you a great-uncle. Belle has borne a fine son.
The young man pulled a face. 'I congratulate him, but the child can call me «cousin». I don't want to be anyone's «great-uncle» until I'm in my dotage!
'What's dotage? Rosamund demanded.
'What happens when you pass twenty, Oliver said.
Rosamund looked at him narrowly. 'Does that mean you are in your dotage?
'You'll have to ask your mother. He grinned at Catrin.
The little girl frowned.
'Pay no heed, Catrin advised her. 'Your papa's teasing. When you have finished learning how to be an Amazon, I want you to take a jar of throat syrup to Dame Quenhild in the hall.
Rosamund screwed up her face, considering mutiny, but decided against it and nodded her head. It was fun playing with Richard, but it was also fun to watch all the coming and going in the hall.
Catrin gave her the jar of syrup and watched Rosamund set off, Richard escorting her for he too had business in that direction. The little girl carried her burden carefully, her black braid swinging as she walked. Catrin shook her head and smiled, her vitals gripped by a sharp pang of love. 'She is growing fast, she murmured to Oliver. 'Too fast for me in my 'dotage', he agreed and sat down on the pallet they shared.
Catrin gave him a sidelong glance. For an instant she contemplated telling him that her flux was late, that there might be another child to watch over as it grew from helpless infancy to sturdy independence, but she dismissed the idea almost immediately. It was too soon to tell. Besides, knowing Oliver's qualms about the entire matter of childbirth, it was probably best to keep him in ignorance until she was thoroughly sure herself, and that might take several months.
The glance she had given him was met by a considering one of his own, as if he too was deciding whether to speak. Catrin saw that he was unconsciously rubbing his left elbow. Six years after his wounding, he had regained reasonable use of the limb and could even hold a full-sized kite shield for short periods, but it still pained him on occasion. Rubbing it was either a sign that the bone was aching or that he had something on his mind. After the way he had looked at her, she thought it was the latter.
'What's wrong? she asked.
'Nothing. Oliver shook his head, but his expression did not lighten and he continued to massage his elbow. 'Did Prince Henry say anything when you saw him?
'Not a great deal; only that he was pleased with the child and that I was granted employment for life. Why? Moving three of Rosamund's hair ribbons, a distaff with some neatly spun wool and a doll made of fabric stuffed with fleece, she sat down at Oliver's side.
'He said nothing about England?
'No. Catrin gave him a sharp look. 'He's not contemplating an escapade like the last one? Two years ago Henry had taken it into his head to cross the Narrow Sea with a raiding party of friends and mercenaries. It was an ill-planned expedition, funded by youthful high spirits and little else. Oliver had been at his wits' end over the matter, for Henry had viewed all pleas for prudence as nothing more than the procrastination of old men who had outlived their daring. Oliver had felt the criticism keenly. To all intents and purposes he was Henry's quartermaster, responsible for ensuring that there were enough supplies to sustain the soldiers of his household whether at home or on campaign. Two years ago, Henry had overridden Oliver's protests that they were not sufficiently prepared and had set out to claim England as if he were going to play skittles at a summer feast.
The 'invasion' had been an unmitigated disaster with coin and supplies evaporating more rapidly than summer mist. A plea to his mother and Earl Robert for funds to pay his soldiers had been met with stony refusal in order to teach Henry a lesson. In the event, he did not learn the sort of lesson they had hoped, for the fourteen- year-old had gone to his other uncle, King Stephen, to ask for money. Taken aback but amused by Henry's sheer audacity, Stephen had provided the finances on the understanding that Henry leave England immediately. Henry had done so, his mood chastened but not entirely subdued.
'He's two years older and wiser now, Oliver said drily. 'And sixteen is closer to man than boy. I know he makes me tear out my hair on occasion, but I will say that Henry learns by his mistakes.
Catrin picked up her daughter's doll and gazed at its slipshod grin. Rosamund had sewn the face herself using scraps of brown wool. It was a good effort for the five-year-old she had been at the time. 'At sixteen there is still too much to learn, she said, 'often at the expense of others.
Oliver shrugged. 'He's not travelling under his own sail this time — or at least, not entirely. It's at the behest of King David of Scotland and Rannulf of Chester. He's to be invested with his knighthood and officially take up arms against Stephen. He ceased rubbing his arm and leaned on his thighs. 'He's coming of age, Catrin, love, and if he does not succeed in England now, he never will. But, God help me, the time ahead is daunting. Do you know how many quarters of wheat and pecks of oats it takes to keep even a small conroi in the field for a week? Catrin shook her head and slipped her arm around his waist. Already she could see that his mind was adrift in calculation, his lips moving silently. 'No, but I know that you do, and that you are full capable of garnering whatever supplies are needed, if Henry gives you the chance, she said, to boost his confidence and because it was true. 'How long do you have?
Oliver blinked. 'What? Oh, I don't know yet. Henry was too busy rushing off to look at his son to tell me, but I dare say I'll know by tonight.
'England, Catrin murmured, and gazed out of the hut door. In many respects, living in Rouen was not dissimilar to living in Bristol. Both cities were major ports, dependent on the river for their trade. The main language of the nobility was French as it had been in England, but there were still so many things she missed. The softness of a West-wind rain from Wales, yeasty, golden ale tasting of elder-flowers, oatcakes flavoured with honey and sprinkled with poppy seeds. They scarcely grew oats in Normandy, except to give to horses, and viewed anyone who ate them as coarse and rustic.
'Rosamund and I are going with you, she said firmly. Two years ago the expedition had been sprung without warning by the Prince. There had been no time to garner camp followers — probably a blessing in hindsight — but this was different. If Henry was going to be knighted and then make a serious play for his crown, the absence from Normandy was likely to be a long one.
Oliver's expression was suddenly neutral. 'I am not sure that it is wise.
'Neither am I, but you will not dissuade me, Catrin said
quickly, before he could launch into a dozen reasons why she should remain behind. 'I have been content here because you have been content, but Rouen is not my home — or yours. Don't you long to hear English spoken
