Medieval Hearts - For My Lady's Heart Part 46

"Haps I am a witch, with no reflection."

"Times there be that I think thee a witch in troth, my lady."

"Why?" She gave him a quick glance. Her eyes had an uneasy vividness, that imperfect blue smudged to violet.

"By cause I love thee when I would rather strangle thee."

"But-haps I am a witch. Haps I am no one. Haps the Devil came and took me while I slept. I dreamed it once, that he took me, and left naught but a thing fashioned of lies, to seem like me." She gripped the mirror. In a small voice she said, "Ruck. Wilt thou look into it, and see if I am there?"

He went to her and knelt beside her, taking the gla.s.s from her nerveless fingers. It was a perfect mirror, the size of his spread hand, flashing light from the transparent surface. On the back an ivory lady gave her heart to a vain-looking knight. Ruck saw his own face as he turned the gla.s.s, a brief glimpse of jaw and nose and the golden b.u.t.tons down his surcoat.

"Wait!" She stopped him as he rotated the mirror. "Wait- I am not ready." She pressed her eyes shut. Her face was taut, her hair in wild curte about her pallid cheeks. She held his hands still for a long moment. "All right," she said weakly, loosing him. "Now. Look. What dost thou see?"

He did not even glance at the mirror.

"Sharp wit," he said. "Valor past any man I know. Foolish j.a.pery and tricks worse than a child. Lickerous l.u.s.t, hair like midwinter night. A proud and haught chin, a mouth for n.o.ble-talking-that does kiss sufficiently, in faith, and slays me with a smile. Guile and dreaming. A princess. A wench. An uncouth runisch girl. My wife. I see you, Melanthe. Ne do I need a gla.s.s."

"Look in the mirror!"

"Luflych." He wrapped his hand about her tight fist. "I see the same there."

She gave a rasping breath of relief, without opening her eyes. "Thou art certain? My face is there? Thou dost not say me false?"

"I fear for my life do I e'er say thee false, my lady."

"Oh, I am lost! I need thee to sayen me true. I need thee to say me what I should be. All is changed, and I know not what lam."

"Then will we keepen watch and see. And if ye be someone new each morn, Melanthe-G.o.d knows thou art still my sovereign lady. Nought will I be at thy side in e'ery moment, but in spirit always, and return to thee with my whole heart, to see what bemazement thou wilt work upon me next."

Her hand turned upright beneath his, clinging. "I pray thee. Ne do I command thee, but I pray thee-do not go to France and leave me. Not-so soon. I would not maken thee my lap-dog, but-" She moistened her lips. "Verily, I know naught of sheep. And I have thousands, so says my seneschal. Haps I will require thy good advice."

"I am a master of sheep, my lady. E'en to shearing them, if I mote. I know some of oats and other corns, and how to instruct the bailiffs. The garrisons and men-at-arms I can command to good effect, and o'erlook castles and crenellations for what repairs and enlargements may be required."

Her hand eased, but still she kept her eyes closed. "All this? Thou art supreme in merits."

"I haf thought me a little o'er what my service could be."

"And what is left to me, but breeding?"

"Iwysse, I think of it each time we keep company, that we may not sin."

"Monk-man!"

"There be chambers at Wolfscar in need of dusting. I wen well how my lady wench likes to sweepen a hearth."

"Wench?" she uttered dangerously.

He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "If Your Highness finds time heavy between thy lazy sleeps-I be nought much hand at Latin, my lady, nor lawyers and court dealings such as a great estate mote always have."

She opened her eyes, looking out the window. "All these plans and devises! Methinks thou art a great trumpery, who never meant for a moment to go back to chevauchee in France!"

"If thou hatz truer need of my service." he said with dignity, "then shall I nought, lest our king commands me."

She put her hand on his, preventing the mirror from moving. Her face diverted, she looked warily from the corner of her eyes. With a cautious move she shifted the mirror in his hand, turning it slightly toward her.

"Look into it, my lady," he said. "I ne haf nought lied to thee."

She turned it all the way, staring down into the gla.s.s. Her brows rose in outrage. "Why-I am not comely! I am not!" She slapped the mirror facedown. "I knew it was all dishonest dwele, these songs and praises to my beauty. Wysse, when is a rich woman plain?"

Ruck smiled at her. "Art nought comelych? Is my fortune to be blind, then."

"Pah!" She reached out, catching him off balance with a hard shove at his shoulder. He fell back off his heels, sitting down with a grunt on the bare stone. "Any woman would look comely to thee, monk-man, after ten and three years of chast.i.ty!"

Epilogue.

Cara sat in the solar, her toes by the fire and the cloth of gold spread over her lap as well as she could with the child so great in her. The ciclatoun was to make a coverlet for an infant's cradle-none of hers, of course, but Lord Ruadrik's gift for his lady's churching, along with a robe of scarlet trimmed in ermine. He had left the fabrics at Savernake as he pa.s.sed through just before Christmas, and bade her have them sent back to Wolfscar by Easter to be well in time.

She lifted her head, taking a deep breath after bending over the labor. She was flattered to have been chosen to embroider the gifts; Lord Ruadrik had taken special note of her work among Lady Melanthe's apparel, and brought the fabric to her. She shoved herself to her feet, carrying the cloth to the cold window, where she could inspect the fine detail in what was left of the cloudy light.

She glanced out over the s...o...b..und yard. The cloth fell from her fingers. "Elena!" she shrieked.

The door, the stairs, the way that was so slow in her c.u.mbersome state vanished beneath her feet. She burst from the door onto the porch without even stopping for a cloak.

"Elena, Elena-"

Her sister was just dismounting, her small feet disappearing in the snow. Cara swept her up and buried her face in the thick woolens, panting with exertion.

"Here now!" Guy's chiding voice barely reached her. She clutched at Elena as he lifted her away. "Inside." He hiked her sister in his arms, carrying her as Cara ran alongside, almost dancing in spite of her bulk. Elena was chattering in Italian; it sounded strange and wonderful to hear; Cara took in not a word of the childish talk, only heard the gay high voice and knew all was well, that Elena was whole and unhurt. She was weeping too hard to see more than Guy's outline in the pa.s.sage. Someone came in with them-a woman, a nurse; there were others in the yard; it was all confusion as Guy went back out to see to them, but Cara could only hold her sister tight.

"You're so big!" Elena said, her dark blue eyes finally coming clear. "We have had a great adventure, coming through the snow! Dan Allegreto's horse fell in a drift! Will we live here? It is so cold! Dan Allegreto says that I shall like it when I grow accustomed. I threw snow at him, but he said it didn't hurt. When will the baby be born? Will I be its auntie?"

Cara's hands loosened. "Allegreto?"

Guy came in the door, knocking snow from his boots. No one followed him but another duenna, an older lady who crossed the threshold with offended dignity as he held open the door.

"Donna Elena, thy decorum!" she snapped.

Elena stood straight in Cara's arms, making a little courtesy. "Dan Allegreto says that if I wish to marry him," she confided to Cara, "I must learn to be a lady, for I am now a hoyden."

Cara stood straight, her heart thundering. "He is come?" she said to Guy in French.

"Nay," He shook his head. "This is all the party, but the guard that I sent to the stables."

"Oh, Dan Allegreto is here. He brought me to you," Elena said, slipping easily into French.

"The yard is empty," Guy said.

Elena pulled away. She ran to the door, pushing it open. Cara hurried after her as the little girl ran out into the snow without her cloak, calling.

Cara could not run so fast-her sister had raced across the yard and past the gate before Cara could prevent her. The duennas made shrill helpless cries after their charge, but it was only Guy and the porter who caught up with Elena after she crossed the bridge.

The little girl had already stopped. She stood gazing down the empty road. She put her hands about her mouth and cried, "Dan Allegreto!"

The name echoed back across the snowy fields. Two horses in the nearest pasture lifted s.h.a.ggy heads.

"Oh," Elena said in a tiny voice. "He didn't say goodbye to me."

"Elena, thou wilt catch thy death, standing in the snow." Cara spoke sharply. "Guy, she must go inside."

"Come then, little donna." Guy lifted her high in the air and set her on his shoulders. "Mama speaks, and we listen."

Elena made no protest, but she craned her head to see behind her until Guy had carried her through the gate. Cara watched them out of sight. She turned, looking down the road-waiting.

No one came. The tracks made a long thin shadow in the snow, vanishing out of sight where the horse pastures met the forest.

"G.o.d grant you mercy," Cara said. Cold tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. Grant mercy. Thank you."

The snow chilled her feet. She stood with her arms hugged close to herself, stood until the cold went through her to her heart. When she realized she was shaking with it, she turned back, and left the empty road to night and frost.

Acknowledgements.

Firstly, Suzanne Parnell, for "Fun with Middle English." Readers should know that there exists in the world a ma.n.u.script of this book in which all of the Middle English dialogue has been rendered accurate in both spelling and grammar, a labor of love for the language by Suzanne, which allowed me to water it down for modern consumption-and Suzanne, I wept for every "arn" and "ert" and "hopande" that wenten, forsooth, by cause our moder tonge mei maken swich luflych layes, and gets inside your head and sings. All errors introduced by editing are mine alone.

Secondly, "Tercel" on GEnie Pet-Net, and Don Roeber of Texas, for introducing me to falconry. Through the strange magic of computer networking, Tercel (not to be mistaken for a car) pa.s.sed his love of hunting birds and this ancient sport- and more of his patience and sweetness of character than he knows-to me when I didn't know a falcon from a hawk. Don generously answered my questions and loaned me books and gave me the opportunity to watch a real falcon on the hunt- and if it wasn't the most perfect weather in the world, we got the mud part right, anyway. Next season-less fog, more ducks! All exaggerations and technical mistakes I may have made in creating my "superfalcon" once again are mine alone.

Thirdly, Mary Wilburn of the Zula Bryant Wylie Library, for ever-patient ordering of inter-library loans, and taking time out of her London trip to provide me help beyond the call of duty.

Fourthly, Commander Bill Ashmole and his wife, Joan, of Devon, who generously spent part of their holiday visiting English abbeys and priories under my orders-for showing Mother and Daddy the best of good times as usual. They always come home smiling.

Lastly, but never leastly, Mother and Daddy themselves. Braving the roundabouts and shipyards, and nearly sucked into the Liverpool tunnel, my father managed to locate Birkenhead Priory tucked among the drydock cranes, when even the fellows at the petrol station down the street didn't know where it was. Another of the world's small ironies: the little priory that lay deep in the wilderness of the Wirral some five hundred years ago-still used for worship, recently renovated as a pleasant, tree-shaded civic center for the city of Birkenhead-still difficult for the average pilgrim to reach. It takes a man of true determination like my father, and very glad to see him the priest was, for it seems they don't get as many visitors as they deserve down there in the midst of the Birkenhead shipyards where no one can find them.

In addition, the Hundred Years War gamers on GEnie, who not only provide some pretty slick role-playing in the fourteenth century, but helped me obtain my own copy of Froissart; the Oxford University Press, for publishing the Oxford English Dictionary on CD-ROM; and Travis, the only guy in the universe, as far as I know, who can successfully install an internal NEC-84 CD-ROM drive.

And finally, most of all, an unknown poet or poetess, for Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

To each of you, my heartfelt thanks.

Glossary and Notes on Middle English Grammar.

I've provided this glossary in the new edition of For My Lady's Heart as a small glimpse into the fascinating history of our language. Some of the words listed have other definitions, but here they are limited to the meanings I used in this book. I've given alternate spellings, for those who wish to investigate further in dictionaries, and a couple of grammar hints for those of you who like to go around talking to your friends like this. You know who you are!

Abbreviations: ME (Middle English); OE (Old English); OF (Old French); L (Latin).

aghlich (also awly; OE, ME)-Terrifying, dreadful alaunt (OF)-A wolf-hound ambs-ace (L, OF "both aces, double ace," the lowest possible throw at dice)-Worthlessness, nought, next to nothing. a'plight (OE, "pledge")-In faith, truly, certainly, surely, in truth austringer (OF)-A keeper of goshawks aventail (OF, "air-hole")-The movable mouthpiece of a helmet avoi (also avoy; OF, unknown origin)-General exclamation of surprise or fear besant (also bezant; OF "Byzantium," where it was first minted)-A type of gold or silver coin; a gold b.u.t.ton caitiff (also caytif; OF)-A base, mean, despicable wretch camelot (also camlot, cameline; OF)-A light, plush fabric supposedly made from camel's hair; a garment made of this fabric cheap (OE)-A purchase, a bargain ciclatoun (OF, possibly from Arabic)-A precious material; cloth of gold or other rich material comelych (ME)-Comely, lovely comlokkest (ME)-Comeliest, most handsome coquin (also c.o.kin; OF)-Rogue, rascal cotehardi (also cote-hardie, OF)-A close-fitting outer garment with sleeves, worn by both s.e.xes cuira.s.s (OF)-Breast-plate and back-plate armor cuir bouilli (OF, literally "boiled leather")-Leather armor cuisses (OF, "thigh")-Armor pieces for the upper leg depardeu (also depardieu; OF)-In G.o.d's name; by G.o.d descry/descrive (OF)-To discover; to describe or reveal destrier (L dexira "right hand" because the horse was led by the squire with his right hand)-A warhorse or charger disturn (OF)-Turn away drury (OF)-A love-token, a keepsake enow (ME)-Enough escheat (OF)-To confiscate from; or more specifically the reversion of a fief to the lord, commonly when the tenant died without leaving a successor fermysoun (also fermisoun; OF)-The close season, when it was illegal or uncustomary to hunt the hart (a male red deer) fette (OE, "fetch")-Lay hold of font (ME)-In front, forward of foryield (OE)-Reward, repay fourchee (OF)-A skewer for the special tidbits reserved for the lord from "unmaking" or butchering of the hart at the end of a hunt frith (OE)-wooded or waste land, underbrush frumenty (ME)-A dish made of hulled wheat boiled in milk, with spices and sweeteners added fustian (OF, possibly from Fostat, a cloth-making section of Cairo)-Coa.r.s.e cloth made of cotton and flax gambeson (OF)-undecorated body garment of quilted material or leather, worn under armor to prevent chafing greaves (OF, "shin")-Armor for the leg below the knee haf/hatz (OE, ME)-have harlot (OF)-A rogue, rascal, villain, low fellow, knave; also applied to the pointed boots worn in the fourteenth century hastilude (L "spear-play")-A tilt or tournament havercake (ME northern dialect)-Oatcake houpelande (also houpland; OF, unknown origin)-A tunic with a long skirt, sometimes with train attached, worn by both s.e.xes iwysse (OE, gewis "certain")-Certainly, a.s.suredly, indeed lay (OF)-A short lyric or narrative poem leman (also lemman, lemmon; ME)-A lover or mistress lickerous (OF)-Delicious; l.u.s.tful, wanton liripipe (L)-A long tippet hanging from the peak of a hood or from the elbows lovelokkest (OE, ME)-Loveliest luflych (OE, ME)-Lovely; gracious; a fervent expression of admiring or delighted feeling lymer (OF, "leash")-A leash-hound; a dog bred for tracking the quarry by scent without disturbing it, similar to a modern bloodhound menskeful (ME, menske "courtesy, honors")-Elegant, ornamented misericorde (OF, "compa.s.sion, pity, mercy")-A dagger mote (OF)-A note-call on a hunting hom mote/moten/moste (OE)-Expressing permission, possibility, or obligation; might, may, or must ne (OE, ME)-A simple negative; no, not. Sometimes formed in contraction with a verb, as in "n'ill I" for "ne will I" (I will not). Our modern term "w.i.l.l.y-nilly" comes from " Will ye or nill ye!" pa.s.sager (OF)-A wild falcon trapped during migration and trained; sometimes used only for a season and then released pillion (from Celtic pill "cushion")-A kind of saddle, esp. a woman's light saddle. Also, a pad or cushion attached to the back of an ordinary saddle, on which a second person (usually a woman) may ride plessis (OF)-Felled trees, young trees, brambles, and thorn bushes woven and grown together as an impenetrable barrier and defense; plessis were common all over Europe in the Middle Ages, some so ancient they dated back at least to the Germanic tribes of Roman times. poleyn (OF)-Plate armor for the knee poulaine (OF, "souliers a la Poulaine," shoes in Polish fashion)-The long pointed toe of a shoe, as worn in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries rache (OE)-A hunting dog that pursues the quarry in a pack by scent, like modern foxhounds ramp (OF)-A bold, vulgar, ill-behaved woman or girl rechase (OF)-The horn call to denote the hounds are running, or to release them to run rouncy (OF)-A riding horse runisch (also runish, renish; ME, unknown origin)-Fierce, violent, rough sabaton (from L "shoe")-Armor for the foot shend (OE)-Overcome with fatigue; bewildered, stupefied sparviter (OF)-A keeper of sparrowhawks Tam Lin-A traditional name for the King of the Fairies trow (OE)-Trust unhende (also unhend; OE)-Ungentle, rude, rough varvel (OF, "bolt, hinge")-A falconry term for the metal ring attached to a bird's jess, on which the leash is tied; usually engraved with the owner's name vauntguard (also avantguard; OF)-the foremost part of a troop or army, the vanguard vewterer (also fewterer; OF from the Gaulish word "run")-A keeper of greyhounds voire (OF)-In truth, indeed waster bread (also wastel; OF "cake")-Bread made of the finest flour; a cake or loaf of this bread wit/wis/wist/wen/wot (OE, ME)-Know, understand witterly (OE, ME)-Clearly, plainly, evidently; for certain; without doubt woodwose (OE)-a wild man of the woods wrathe/wrothe (also wrath; ME)-annoy, vex, anger Negatives-The modern idea that multiple negatives in a sentence are bad grammar and that "two negatives equal a positive," has no historical basis. In Middle English, the more you wanted to negate something, the more negatives you stuffed into the sentence. "No I ain't done nothing," would be perfectly proper Middle English.

Word order-Negative statements, commands, and questions often invert the typical subject-verb-object word order. "Ne care I nought," for "I don't care." "Swear thee now." "Why sayest thou so?"

Conjugation of verbs-As a very general rule, the first and third person singular are similar to our modern forms. I hear. He hears. Middle English differentiated between "thou" and "you," for the second person p.r.o.noun. Between equals, or to inferiors, "thou" was used. This informal second person singular adds an -est ending for many verbs. Thou hearest. When addressing a superior, "ye" or its plural "you" was used. This polite address, plus the infinitive and all other plurals typically use a -en ending. You hearen. To hearen. They hearen.

There are only two tenses, past and present. The past tense follows the same general rules: I heard. Thou heardest. He heard. They hearden.

There are of course many irregularities and complications, and grammar was never my strong point, so I'll recommend A Book of Middle English by J. A. Burrow and Thorlac Turville-Petre for those who'd like to take a further peek into the grammatical rules and a more extensive dictionary of Middle English.

When the characters in For My Lady's Heart are not speaking Middle English, I used simpler conventions. When they are speaking French, the universal court language of the time, I generally used the informal and polite forms of address, thou and ye. When the characters are speaking Italian between themselves, I used modern grammar.

Laura Kinsale, a former geologist, is the New York Times bestselling author of The Shadow and the Star, Seize the Fire, The Prince of Midnight, Flowers from the Storm, The Dream Hunter, and Shadowheart, the upcoming sequel to For My Lady's Heart. She and her husband divide their time between New Mexico and Texas.

Visit her website at www.laurakinsale.com.

Copyright Notice.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fict.i.tiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

FOR MY LADY'S HEART A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Hedgehog, Inc. PRINTING HISTORY First Berkley ma.s.s-market edition / December 1993 Berkley updated edition / March 2004 Copyright 1993, 2004 by Amanda Moor Jay.

by Amanda Moor Jay. Cover ill.u.s.tration by Gregg Gulbronson. Text design by Kristin del Rosario. All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not partic.i.p.ate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. ISBN: 0-425-14004-0 BERKLEY Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. BERKLEY and the "B" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5