the guards seemed happier this day, for Olaf had gone to his wife’s chamber at last.
92
The Briton
“La, my good girl!” Enit clucked. “Everyone will be looking for signs of a child now! You must be certain to tell me if you start to feel ill. I’m sure it won’t take long for the old man to do his work in you. Your mother was bearing you only two months after she married Edgard.”
Bronwen looked away from Enit. “I will thank you to leave this matter to me. Stop your gossip, I beg you, and see to my day’s garments.”
Enit nodded and set about her work, but Bronwen could not help noticing the smile that played about her nursemaid’s lips.
Bronwen thought of the heavy, aged man who was her husband. The night before, she had offered herself to Olaf exactly as she had been taught. To her satisfaction, he had declared her innocent of wrongdoing, chuckled at her wit and expressed admiration of her knowledge. Truly, he had seemed to admire her. But then he had left the room without touching her.
Why had he gone away? What had she done wrong? Did Norse women have some other way of welcoming their husbands or had Olaf truly preferred to sleep in preparation for his journey? Or, Bronwen wondered, was her appearance unpleasant to him?
Without intending it, she drifted back to the night on the beach when she had first spoken with Jacques Le Brun. How her heart ached for the stranger who had held her in his arms.
She had known by his voice and by his touch that he was a man of strength and honor. And he had called her beautiful…desirable.
Now, in the light of Olaf’s rejection, Le Brun’s words began to ring false. Surely she was not desirable. Surely she was not beautiful at all.
“Are you in pain?” Enit was asking. “Your face is pale and Catherine Palmer
93
your expression troubled. I have herbs to ease your tenderness, child. Trust me, each night with your husband will be better than the last. Some women even learn to enjoy—”
“Olaf will not be at Warbreck tonight,” Bronwen cut in.
“He and his men left at dawn to begin repairs on the snekkar.
After the ship is seaworthy, he will survey his borders. An ally is besieged by Scots, and my husband plans to render aid.”
Enit’s face fell. “But he may be away for weeks!”
“Or months. I am to remain at the keep with the retinue of guards he has left to defend me. My obligation now is to protect and improve my husband’s holding. But first, I wish to send messages to my father and Gildan. Enit, send for two couriers to meet me in the great hall. I have tarried too long in this duty.”
Bronwen settled down to her breakfast with an uneasy heart. Olaf had left his bride chaste. Haakon must surely despise his father’s wife all the more. Far away, Edgard would be tending to his own affairs at Rossall. And Gildan was surely at peace in Aeschby’s arms. Bronwen felt abandoned and forgotten.
Worse yet, Jacques Le Brun must be approaching London.
He would soon put her out of his mind. Certainly she must set her memories of the Norman aside. All she would have of him was the black mantle with its peacock-blue lining. That, and a small box containing three gold balls.
Once it became clear that Bronwen was not carrying Olaf’s child, Enit and the rest of Warbreck’s staff registered great disappointment. But as winter’s chill began to subside, Bronwen threw herself into the tasks at hand.
Inside the castle, the rotting rushes gathered up from the floor were burned and new ones were strewn across the 94
The Briton
freshly swept and washed floors. Servitors scrubbed down the table boards in the hall to remove layers of greasy fat and spilled mead. Several women set about to make new overcloths for the tables, and Bronwen instructed Enit to embroider one with the great black crow that festooned the sails of the snekkar. Though the bird seemed evil to Bronwen, she sensed it would please Olaf.
“Do you know the symbol of the crow?”
92
The Briton
“La, my good girl!” Enit clucked. “Everyone will be looking for signs of a child now! You must be certain to tell me if you start to feel ill. I’m sure it won’t take long for the old man to do his work in you. Your mother was bearing you only two months after she married Edgard.”
Bronwen looked away from Enit. “I will thank you to leave this matter to me. Stop your gossip, I beg you, and see to my day’s garments.”
Enit nodded and set about her work, but Bronwen could not help noticing the smile that played about her nursemaid’s lips.
Bronwen thought of the heavy, aged man who was her husband. The night before, she had offered herself to Olaf exactly as she had been taught. To her satisfaction, he had declared her innocent of wrongdoing, chuckled at her wit and expressed admiration of her knowledge. Truly, he had seemed to admire her. But then he had left the room without touching her.
Why had he gone away? What had she done wrong? Did Norse women have some other way of welcoming their husbands or had Olaf truly preferred to sleep in preparation for his journey? Or, Bronwen wondered, was her appearance unpleasant to him?
Without intending it, she drifted back to the night on the beach when she had first spoken with Jacques Le Brun. How her heart ached for the stranger who had held her in his arms.
She had known by his voice and by his touch that he was a man of strength and honor. And he had called her beautiful…desirable.
Now, in the light of Olaf’s rejection, Le Brun’s words began to ring false. Surely she was not desirable. Surely she was not beautiful at all.
“Are you in pain?” Enit was asking. “Your face is pale and Catherine Palmer
93
your expression troubled. I have herbs to ease your tenderness, child. Trust me, each night with your husband will be better than the last. Some women even learn to enjoy—”
“Olaf will not be at Warbreck tonight,” Bronwen cut in.
“He and his men left at dawn to begin repairs on the snekkar.
After the ship is seaworthy, he will survey his borders. An ally is besieged by Scots, and my husband plans to render aid.”
Enit’s face fell. “But he may be away for weeks!”
“Or months. I am to remain at the keep with the retinue of guards he has left to defend me. My obligation now is to protect and improve my husband’s holding. But first, I wish to send messages to my father and Gildan. Enit, send for two couriers to meet me in the great hall. I have tarried too long in this duty.”
Bronwen settled down to her breakfast with an uneasy heart. Olaf had left his bride chaste. Haakon must surely despise his father’s wife all the more. Far away, Edgard would be tending to his own affairs at Rossall. And Gildan was surely at peace in Aeschby’s arms. Bronwen felt abandoned and forgotten.
Worse yet, Jacques Le Brun must be approaching London.
He would soon put her out of his mind. Certainly she must set her memories of the Norman aside. All she would have of him was the black mantle with its peacock-blue lining. That, and a small box containing three gold balls.
Once it became clear that Bronwen was not carrying Olaf’s child, Enit and the rest of Warbreck’s staff registered great disappointment. But as winter’s chill began to subside, Bronwen threw herself into the tasks at hand.
Inside the castle, the rotting rushes gathered up from the floor were burned and new ones were strewn across the 94
The Briton
freshly swept and washed floors. Servitors scrubbed down the table boards in the hall to remove layers of greasy fat and spilled mead. Several women set about to make new overcloths for the tables, and Bronwen instructed Enit to embroider one with the great black crow that festooned the sails of the snekkar. Though the bird seemed evil to Bronwen, she sensed it would please Olaf.
“Do you know the symbol of the crow?”
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