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“I could give him something to slow the bleeding,” she said quietly to Severin.
“Nay, you cannot. The abbot would go into a frenzy of religious fervor were you to do anything.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Let us sleep, Hastings. Morning will come early. Let us pray that the rain stops. I want to leave this place.”
The rain did stop near dawn the next morning. Severin awakened her with a kiss to her temple. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She lifted her hand and lightly caressed her fingertips over his mouth, his nose, his cheeks. She smoothed his eyebrows. “I am glad you kept me with you.”
“Aye, but there is no time to ask for more of a show of gratitude.” He pulled off the blankets and rose.
Within the hour they were riding from Wigham Abbey. Hastings turned in Marella’s saddle and stared back at the grim stone buildings. Even in the morning sunlight, it looked inhospitable. “I wonder if convents are as depressing as that place.”
“Benedictines relish the torture of their flesh,” Gwent said. “Let them all rot. I do not imagine that it much pleases God, but who knows?”
Tabar was better. He was even whistling. He was effusive in his thanks to Hastings.
“He is young,” Severin said. “He will glow and squeal his infatuation for you but then it will disappear. I will suffer him until he cures himself of you. If it is not soon, I will cuff him hard and that will clear out his wits.”
Hastings laughed. She poked her husband’s arm. He smiled at her and stretched out his hand, gripping hers.
Gwent grunted and said under his breath, “He has not mucked up the miracle, praise be to God.” He had never seen his master so at ease with a woman. Even with most men he was silent, his speech terse. He heard Severin laugh. It was indeed a miracle. All the men looked quite pleased.
15
THEY REACHED YORKSHIRE ON THE AFTERNOON OF THE fifth day. The weather remained warm and dry. They passed to the east of Leeds, on toward the coast, to the town of Hawksmere. Langthorne village lay just behind at the head of the estuary. Hastings was both excited to see Langthorne and anxious that her mother-in-law had been found by now. Poor woman. She prayed the Healer’s herbs would help her. But sickness in the head was frightening simply because there were no sores, no fever, no broken bones. It was hidden. It was unknown. Thus it was to be feared and reviled.
Langthorne keep stood on a slight rise at the head of the estuary. It looked as old as the black rocks that poked up randomly in the fields. There were gouges in the outer walls, stones spilling out like waterfalls of rock. The fields surrounding the outer walls looked devastated, the people ragged and poor. She’d known that Severin had wedded her to gain money to renew his home, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite so bad. His expression was set. He said nothing. He would have come here soon enough, but she was glad that it was sooner. There was much to be done to bring Langthorne back to its former glory, whatever that had been. It would be passed down to her sons and daughters. She didn’t want it to be a ruin.
His mother was at Langthorne. Sir Roger’s men had found her sitting on a branch in a tree, her bare legs dangling. She laughed as she waved to them.
“I regret, my lord, that it took us three days,” Sir Roger said, all pleased with himself. There had been no surprise when their party had ridden into the inner bailey. It was obvious he had discovered that Severin was coming. He was a tall man, thinner than the legs of the trestle tables in the great hall of Langthorne. His hands moved constantly. She didn’t know if he was naturally nervous or whether this nervousness was brought upon by Severin’s presence and how Severin would deal with Sir Roger’s lapse.
“Is she normal?”
“Aye, she appears so. She is quiet, so the women tell me. As I said, she was laughing and waving. That is the only way we found her. Who would think to search up in the trees?”
“May I see her, Severin?”
“Aye. Sir Roger, this is my lady wife, Lady Hastings.”
“My lady. ’Tis an odd name you carry.”
“But ’tis solid, Sir Roger. When you say my name you have no doubt that you have said it.”
“I will believe what you have said though my wit must have more time to glean your meaning.”
“She is like that,” Severin said, and cuffed his wife’s shoulder.
“I do not see Trist, my lord,” Sir Roger said. “He is well?”
“My damned marten wasn’t to be found when we left. I believe he is spending more time in the forest, perhaps mating. We will see.”
Hastings followed Severin up the narrow stairs to the small chamber where Sir Roger had moved his mother a short time before when he had taken a mistress, thus needing the larger chamber. The new chamber, Sir Roger said, all affability, was quite adequate.
Adequate, hah, Hastings thought, when Severin unlocked and pushed open the door. The room was dark and narrow. It smelled of stale reeds and urine. There was one narrow window that had a square of bear skin over it. The reeds on the cold stone floor were filthy with rotted food and excrement. Hastings simply stood in the doorway, so dismayed that at first she didn’t see the woman who was standing still as a pillar, her back pressed against the stone wall.
“Mother,” Severin said, but made no move toward her.
The woman shook her head but didn’t move. “Who is she?” She raised her arm and pointed at Hastings. “Why are you with this girl?”
“She is my wife. Her name is Hastings.”
