Fire Song by Roberta Gellis Page B

gave a thought to eating, but the cooks had taken to heart the lesson taught by their smarting backs. Thus, though she gave no orders for a meal, Lady Fenice’s dinner was delectable, dainty dishes, more fitting for the visit of a king than for the everyday table of a simple knight’s lady. The chief cook fainted when the food came back scarcely touched, before the shaking boy who carried the plates could tell him Lady Fenice found no fault but was not hungry. And Fenice’s big bed was made up afresh with hysterical care that there be not one single crease in the sheets, and it was warmed again and again lest one tiny spot be cold, despite—or, rather, because of—the agony that every motion caused in raw backs and hips. Very quietly, with her face buried in the carefully arranged and plumped pillows, Fenice cried herself to sleep, sick with horror and pity at the punishments she had meted out.
     
    Two months later, Lady Alys and Lord Raymond came to pay a formal call on their daughter. Of course, letters had passed between Fenice and Alys almost every day, advice and encouragement from Alys, and assurances that all was going well or occasional questions about details of management with which she was not completely familiar from Fenice. And from time to time Sir Raoul, who was acting as castellan in Fuveau at Raymond’s request, had ridden over to Tour Dur to speak to his overlord. But neither Alys nor Raymond had come near Fuveau, wishing Fenice to establish her authority on her own. However, the day before the visit, Raymond had received a letter from his kinsman Rustengo in Bordeaux that made necessary a return there in the near future. The letter had mentioned that Lord Simon, Earl of Leicester, after being besieged at Montauban and being forced to return some of the prisoners he had taken in previous actions, had gone to France.
    Alys and Raymond found Fuveau a model of smooth efficiency, at least as well run as when Lady Emilie and Sir Jean-Paul had managed it for Delmar. Fenice came running out to greet them in the court. Grooms were at hand to take the visitors’ horses, and it was Fenice they looked to for instructions, even though Raymond had started to give orders about the care of the mounts. Of course, Fenice immediately gestured the grooms’ attention toward her father, but Alys nodded, well satisfied.
    For another hour or so, Alys continued to be content. Fenice was flushed with excitement and pleasure at their coming, and she spoke easily of the events since her cataclysmic assumption of control in Fuveau. Later, when Raymond rode out with Sir Raoul to look at a problem of drainage on one of the farms and Fenice took Alys to see the work of the women, Alys became much less satisfied. Not that there was anything wrong with the service or demeanor of the servants or that there was anything lacking in the output or quality of work from the women’s chambers, however, as Fenice’s flush of excitement faded, Alys did not like what she saw. Fenice’s face was drawn and hollow-eyed, and when Alys slipped her arm around her stepdaughter’s waist, she could feel Fenice’s ribs under her clothing.
    “Come, love,” Alys said, “you have spent a deal of time proving to me what I was already sure of, that you are well fit to manage your own home. Let us sit down in comfort in your chamber, where we will not be interrupted, and talk of ourselves until the men return for dinner.”
    “Oh, yes,” Fenice agreed readily, “and to my shame I have been so full of my own doings that I have not asked about the children.”
    Alys laughed. “What need to ask? If they had been other than well and causing endless trouble, you would have heard at once.”
    “Why did you not bring them?” Fenice asked.
    “Because I did not want them to miss another day of lessons. We spend so much time these days traveling between Aix and Bordeaux that they are running wild.”
    “I am sorry my troubles had to bring you home,”