Fire Song

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He had no real choice but to come along as he replied, “We thought that you would be sharing Lord Roland’s…”

She stopped him then, with an emphatic shake of her head. Meredyth wanted to tell this man that she would as lief bathe in boiling tar as share a room with Roland St. Sebastian. She uttered none of that, but could not refrain from gasping, “Nay.” Immediately realizing the amazed reaction of the man before her, Meredyth willed herself! to a more moderate manner and tone as she said, “Oh, that would not do. I fear I have many belongings and I would not wish to plague my husband by taking over his chambers.”

She motioned to the heaped wagons. “I will require rooms of my own, most definitely a large bedchamber and a solar.” She attempted a confident and reassuring smile, though she was not at all certain of its effectiveness, considering her current state of disquiet.

The tall knight looked at her closely. “Roland left no specific instructions. We had thought he would be returning here with—”

Gently but deliberately she interrupted, doing her utmost to keep the desperation from her voice. “Then all is well. You will not be countermanding any order given you. Obviously your lord expected me to do as I desired, or he would have accompanied me himself, would he not?”

At last he seemed at a loss for words, for what could he reply to such logic? Only Meredyth was aware of the truth, that Roland had left her at Penacre in anger. But he was not here. What he would say to her actions when he did return, she did not know. She only knew that she would not, could not, share a room with a man who had made his disregard for her so abundantly clear.

Not even when his touch had lit a fire in her like none she had ever imagined.

Forcing such thoughts away, she saw that they had now reached the steps of the keep. Two men and three women stood on the stoop, but she did not look at them directly, simply holding her head high as she fought the uncertainty inside her. To her utter relief no one spoke, simply stepping back to allow her to pass.

As Meredyth entered the great hall at Kirkland and looked about, her already heavy heart sank like a stone in a rain barrel. All during the journey from Penacre she had tried to keep from acknowledging the loneliness and hurt she was feeling, had tried to imagine making a home for herself in spite of the poor beginning with her husband.

Now, seeing the appalling condition of the keep, it was all she could do to prevent the despair that swept over her in a painful wave from showing on her face. The air was gray with smoke from a chimney that obviously needed cleaning. The rushes underfoot smelled stale and sour as she moved farther into the large, rectangular chamber. Several enormous dogs loped about her in open curiosity, making her glad that Sweeting was safely ensconced in the basket in the front of the lead wagon.

The trestle tables, which had not yet been taken down, had been set up in no particular order. The only indication that there was a high table were the two large chairs that rested behind the table closest to the inside wall. At least she thought, attempting to cheer herself, the surfaces had been washed after a fashion, for there were wipe marks in the grease.

She found no comfort in this. Meredyth could not face any more this day. She turned and saw that not only Sir Simon but the others had followed her the length of the room. Still working to hide her disappointment, Meredyth addressed the oldest of the three women, who seemed to display a modicum of intelligence, if the shame in her brown eyes was any indication. “Who is in charge of the household?”

The woman looked to Sir Simon, who blanched. He shrugged. “This is not my area of expertise. Tell her, Anne.”

Anne shifted her sturdy frame. “Einid has the keys at the moment.”

Meredyth closed her eyes, feeling a shooting pain behind the right one. “And what would ‘at the moment’ mean?”

“She is not the chatelaine. There is no one who actually occupies that place. She is…” The woman blushed deeply.

“What?” Meredyth could not completely keep the impatience from her voice. She desperately wished to find some private portion of this terrible place to hide before she broke down before them all.

Anne flushed more deeply. “She is Lord Roland’s…They always take the keys to the keep, while they are in favor…”

The shock of realizing what was being said was numbing. But thankfully that numbness carried her through without breaking. “Roland’s mistress has the keys to the keep?”

Both Sir Simon and Anne blanched now.

Anger surged inside Meredyth’s breast. How dare he send her to this…! To attempt to place her beneath the thumb of his mistress! He would do well to think again.

This Meredyth would rectify immediately. She was quite accustomed to running a castle and commanding servants. She would not stand for such foolishness. Under no. circumstances would she allow herself to be second to her husband’s leman.

Meredyth spoke in her most autocratic tone. “Bring her here to me.”

Anne obeyed immediately, rushing toward a narrow door in the outside wall. She emerged only a moment later with a tall, blond, voluptuous beauty whose enormous blue eyes viewed Meredyth with unmistakable resentment.

Meredyth knew a brief moment’s sadness. If this was the type of woman her husband preferred, it was not a surprise that he found her lacking. What he would say to her actions when he returned she dreaded to contemplate.

Yet she could not relent. She was defining her very position in this household now. How she began was the way things would go forward. She must take control of the household, and without any hint of uncertainty. St. Sebastian must be dealt with when the time came. The very notion caused a quiver in her belly. Quickly she pushed the thought aside. She would not worry about such things now.

She held out her hand and was gladdened to see how steady it was. “Give me the keys.”

The woman bit her lip, looking to Sir Simon for assistance. He offered none, remaining silent as his assessing eyes watched Meredyth. She dismissed his interest. She cared not one jot what he thought as long as he did not impede her.

Reluctantly Einid reached to the belt that rode her lustily curved hips. She took the keys and put them into Meredyth’s hand. “And now,” Meredyth told her calmly and with unshakable authority, though she knew her own temerity was great in making this last declaration, “You may find your way to whence you came. Your services will no longer be required at Kirkland.”

Again the woman called Einid looked to Sir Simon, and again there was no assistance forthcoming. She turned on her heels and ran from the room. Meredyth could not deny the stab of sympathy she felt for the other woman.

Surprising herself, she turned to Sir Simon. “Does she have somewhere to go?”

He answered with studied courtesy, but she sensed some hint of disapproval in his tone. “I believe she does, my lady. It is my understanding that her family lives in the next village over from Kirkland.”

Meredyth told herself she did not care what he thought of her, what any of them thought of her, as long as they showed her the respect her position demanded. She motioned in the direction the girl had gone. “Go after her and see that she arrives there safely.”

His eyes widened. “I am not to leave the keep, my lady.”

She shrugged. “You will not be gone long.”

He made no more demur, only bowed, before adding, “If I may be so bold, you show much kindness in looking after her welfare, my lady. It does you credit. I will give her some time to gather her belongs if that meets with your approval.”

Meredyth nodded. She had no words to answer to this unexpected approval. She had simply spoken from the fairness of her own mind. It was not Einid’s fault that Roland was unthinking.

Yet again, she had no intention of discussing her feelings about her husband. Better to concentrate on things she could change.

She turned to Anne. “Can you do better than this?” Her condemning gaze swept the room.

“I can, my lady. And the time for it is well past due.”

Meredyth handed her the ring of keys. “Now take me to a suitable chamber. As soon as I have approved of the accommodation, you may send—” she motioned to the servants who hovered in the dimness behind them “—these men to unload the wagons and the women to clean my chambers.”

Anne nodded. Like Sir Simon’s her gaze was thoughtful and assessing as she watched Meredyth. “There are chambers in the tower. They were occupied by Lord Roland’s mother, the lady Jane, before she…died. There is a large bedchamber, a room for a lady’s women and a comfortable solar. But I do not know if Lord Roland would wish for me to—”

Meredyth was not deaf to the odd hesitation in the serving woman’s voice as she spoke of Roland St. Sebastian’s mother, yet she could not find the necessary energy to think on this at the moment. There were already too many troubles crowding her mind. Meredyth interrupted her, evenly, quietly, unwaveringly. “Please take me to those chambers.” She was silently glad that her agitation was not reflected in her tone.

The serving woman lowered her gaze. “Of course, my lady.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_2f160be6-8bec-544c-a469-6b879a7de519)

Roland strode through the outer door to the great hall, and halted in the act of removing his gauntlets. His amazed gaze swept the wide stone chamber once, then again.

As he shifted to take in every corner of the room, the rushes beneath his feet gave off the fresh sweet scent of wild mint. The trestle tables that had been set up for the evening meal had not yet been removed. For the first time in his memory they seemed to be completely cleaned of grease and food stains. His dogs, which usually raced to great him the moment he entered the hall, were chained near the hearth, which was conspicuously devoid of the drifting smoke he had become accustomed to.

If he had not seen the familiar faces of his own men, he would surely have wondered if he might have stumbled into the wrong keep. Yet he did recognize the few still scattered about the hall, most assuredly Sir Simon, who sat gaming with several of the men at the far corner of the room. None of them seemed concerned with the alterations. They did, in fact, appear quite relaxed and contented as they jested amongst themselves.

His gaze swept the room again.

These changes could have been wrought by only one person, his wife. That they were an improvement was irrelevant.

What right had she to come into his home and rearrange all to suit herself? Remembering her open defiance as he had left her, Roland knew he should not be so very surprised. He very pointedly disregarded the fact that he could also recall feeling admiration of her strength of spirit. Strength was not a trait he desired in a wife. Quite the opposite was true. His mother had been known to be a woman of spirit, and that spiritedness had led her to seek adventure in the arms of a man who was not her husband. Roland brushed the old familiar ache away without thinking, so accustomed was he to doing it after all these years.