Lord Liar Part 15

Ranulf had taken her to his chambers, summoned a laundress to help him tend her wounds and then let it be known she was his mistress. Lord Ranutf was one of the king's most trusted friends, and his protection had been sufficient to keep her from being molested again. He had obtained apartments for her at Winchester so that she and her babes could live in security.

Yet Ranulf asked nothing of her. Eventually, seeking some way to repay him for his kindness, Vivienne had offered herself to him, but he had not taken advantage of her grat.i.tude.

Instead, he had trusted her with the secret of his true allegiance and asked her to be a second set of eyes and ears around the court for him. As a woman she might hear information he would not, for as Lord Ranulf's supposed mistress she a.s.sociated with other such woman around the court, the courtesans who plied their trade among Rufus's powerful circle of intimates.

She was to report all gossip about the king and his n.o.bles to him, however trivial it might seem.

She had been disappointed at first that such a darkly handsome man as Ranulf of Kingsclere did not want to bed her, but then she had come to know Urse and had grown to love the giant Breton with his merry smile. Mayhap someday Ranuff would have achieved his goal of helping, and she would be free to let Urse de Caradeue know of her feelings.

Until then, though, perhaps she could repay Ranulf by making sure he did not sacrifice his chance at happiness for the sake of his principles. He had been so sure he should not expose Aldyth to danger, but Vivienne's first impression had been that there was a great deal more steel to this slip of a girl than Ranulf had suspected. Any damoiselle who was daring enough to escape a horrible marriage by disguising herself as a boy and fleeing across the country alone was brave enough to endure the dangerous intrigue Ranulf was engaged in.

And she suspected that despite Aldyth's protestations of dislike and distrust of Ranulf, she still loved him.

Vivienne decided to become better acquainted with Aldyth and make certain her initial impressions of her were accurate. Then, without revealing why he had done so, Vivienne would hint that the true Ranulf might not be the Ranulf who had repulsed Aldyth by acting the lecherous lord that day in the stable.

Then it would be up to Aldyth to decide whether or not to risk all for her love of Ranulf of Kingsclere.

Aldyth awoke an hour after sunrise none the worse, it seemed, from her long trek and the drenching she had received the day before. The anxiety and depression that had dogged her steps all the way to Winchester seemed largely vanquished, and she felt hopeful, despite the radical change in her state.

She need not live disguised in Winchester forever, Aldyth reminded herself as she stretched and yawned in Ranulf's bed. Surely someday Turold would no longer be a threat. He would seek another woman to marry and find a way out of the betrothal contract, and then she would be free. The sooner he did so, of course, the better; her father would not live forever and it would be dreadful never to see him again after causing him such worry. At the very least, she must find a way to send a message telling him she was all right, without indicating where she was.

"Good morrow, sister," Warin said, strolling into the room with fresh-baked bread, a wheel of cheese and watered wine, which he put on the bedside stand.

"At last I hear you stirring, slugabed! I thought we might break our fasts together today--but do not, I pray, expect such a boon every day."

Aldyth grinned.

"I can't remember when I've slept so late, but Lord Ranulf's bed is certainly more comfortable than a pile of pine needles in the forest or the wayfarers'

pallets at the monastery I stopped at one night. Begone for a moment, little brother, that I may dress, and then I'll gladly share breakfast with you."

When Warin came back a few minutes later, he announced,

"After we've broken our fast, we are to see Lady Vivienne. She said she has already found Edward a position."

"Edward?" she said blankly, breaking off a hunk of the crusty bread.

"That's the new name I've given you, unless you've been telling castle folk a different one. You can't very well pa.s.s for a boy calling yourself Aldyth, can you?" he said with maddening logic, chewing on a wedge of cheese he'd cut with his eating dagger.

"Or doesn't Edward suit you?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she said automatically, chagrined that she hadn't even thought of the need for a male name.

"Nay, no one's asked me my name, so Edward will be fine, I suppose. I hope I remember to answer to it. But you've seen Lady Vivienne already this morn?"

"She was at ma.s.s, as always."

'"Tis well that you continue to go regularly, Warin," Aldyth said, letting her brother hear the approval in her voice. So Ranulf's mistress went daily to ma.s.s. The thought surprised her. Could such a woman be truly religious?

"Lord Ranulf told me I must, Aldyth. But I like to do it." Aldyth snorted.

"Perhaps he seeks to absorb grace by being in his page's presence."

Warin gazed at her with reproachful eyes. '"Tis not his fault if be does not get to ma.s.s most days. But the king rides out often to the hunt before dawn and demands his friends accompany him."

She raised a hand in surrender.

"Very well, I can see you'll brook no criticism of Lord RanulL Hasten and finish your wine, Warin. I'm curious to discover what Lady Vivienne has found for me to do."

Folk coming and going thronged the bailey--mailed men- at-ams drilling in ranks, n.o.blemen in furred robes, serving women with heavy-laden arms.

"You still walk like a girl, sister,"

Warin hissed as they made their way across the sunlit bailey to Lady Vivienne's quarters in the inner wall. "Don't let your hips sway--see, walk like this!" He demonstrated, his stride almost a swagger.

Aldyth, still fighting the feeling of being naked in the shorter hemline of the belted tunic, tried to imitate it. "" Tis hard to do! I never realized men and women moved so differently. " Then she colored, remembering the catlike grace with which Ranulf walked, which was nevertheless totally masculine.

"How am I doing?"

He watched her with a critical eye.

"Better." Lady Vivienne was playing with her young daughter when they arrived.

"I've found you a position in the chapel royal, Aldyth, urn... that is, Edward. You're to go down there now.

Brother Osbert, the clerk in charge of relics, knows you are coming.

In fact, he nearly kissed my hand in thankfulaess.

He's old, and his vision is getting cloudy, so he's having trouble caring for the holy relics properly, which distresse him, poor lamb. But at least his near blindness will keep him from seeing you well enough to detect that you're a girl. "

"But I am to serve right in the castle? I had hoped for something out in the town. Isn't there more chance of Ranulf seeing me this way?" Aldyth asked, twisting her hands in a fold of her tunic.

Lady Vivienne chuckled.

"What better place to avoid an irreligious king's friends than in the chamber that houses the relics? You'll sleep in the adjoining scriptorium, where the clerks inscribe the many writs that go out in the king's name.

In fact, I've also told him you have learning, so Osbert may put you to work with quill and parchment, as well. Go on, now. I told the good brother you'd be along soon. " Brother Osbert squinted at them nearsightedly.

"Aye, he'll do," he said to Warin.

"You're not a runaway 'prentice, are ye, Edward? Ye're not a serf bound to the land?

Not run off from some monastery that raised ye? " He patted her head as if searching for a tonsure.

"I cannot in good conscience take ye in if that be true," he added, clucking at the thought.

"Nay, Father, I'm none of those things," she told him, adding to herself, merely a runaway bride.

He reached for her hands, his own trembling with palsy. "Thanks be to Saint Swithin, your hands are small-boned, like the rest of you. That is good--the last great ham- handed lout of a boy that worked here broke a tooth off Mt.

Gildas's skull when be took a notion to dust the inside of the reliquary box.