Chapter Two
The village of Knighton is as I remember it, the houses and cottages surrounding it similar to the ones I had seen in Bordeaux, though perhaps a little squatter. Much like the English themselves, I thought and smirked. Then I remembered I too was English and not so tall for my own height, something my taller cousin had always teased me about, even though I was a little above average height. Still I did not have the dumpiness or roundness some English women had. I frowned a little; did I no longer see myself as English? I had only lived in France for eight years; I could hardly call myself a Frenchwoman. Though I had been married to a Frenchman and had borne him children…then was thrown off my estate as soon as I was a widow and with nothing to do other than to beseech the King of England or rather the brother he had left in his stead.
As soon as we arrive I jump off my horse, not waiting for Clotaire to dismount his and help me from mine. I run to the litter and pull back the curtains, Grégoire is still sitting with his nanny among the fine velvet cushions and blankets, but when he sees me he jumps up and quickly falls into my arms. I kiss his warm little head, dark curls brushing against my neck and he buries his face in my shoulder.
"You are safe, you are safe. We are here now, my little one."
He looks up, "Who was that man, mama?" he says in French.
"A bad, wicked man. He did not hurt you?"
"No, mama. He just stared."
"Though that was unnerving in itself, my lady." Celine, his nanny, says.
I stand up, keeping Grégoire in my arms and letting Celine out from the litter. I put Grégoire down and kiss his forehead.
"Clotaire take Grégoire inside; see if there is any food to be found or if we have any servants at all." I command, Clotaire gives a bow and then gently steers my boy into the house. "Edgard, Gaurin put away the horses in the stables and rub them down."
"Yes, my lady." they reply, Edgard takes mine and Clotaire's horse into the stable, with Gaurin leading his and Edgard's horse. Celine frowns and goes to follow Clotaire and my son, I grab hold of her wrist, holding her tightly. She lets out a gasp and whimpers.
"My lady, I…"
"You are not important. Not when it comes to my son. Were you not in my employment you would be nothing more than the dirt under my feet, understand? If someone threatens my son, dares to even lay a finger on him, you put yourself before him. You do not scream or whine; you protect my son." I hiss and Celine's eyes grow wide with terror, her cheeks pale. I keep my eyes fixed on her's and tighten the hold on her wrist.
"Yes, my lady…I am sorry, my lady."
I fling aside her arm, "Go inside, see that the bedrooms are in some semblance of order. The two best ones will be for my son and myself, the next best one is for Clotaire. Edgard, Gaurin can stay in the barracks, find yourself a truckle bed."
"Yes, Lady Anne." she gave a curtsey then hurried inside. I stretched and rubbed my aching muscles; I had tried being nice to people before and hadn't got me what I wanted. I had tried appeasing them, hoping that if I supported my peasants, poured the taxes they gave me not into my own luxury, but improving their own lives, they would show me respect and gratitude. But to them one master was no different from another and if you gave them one thing, they would then demand more, it was better to keep them in check. I had learnt that the hard way. I had wanted to show mercy and benevolence, taking interest in what they did and how their families were, but after the third time they willfully disobeyed me, I swore it would never happen again.
"My lady, the barracks are small and ill equipped, it is no wonder outlaws are allowed to wander the roads and highways at will." Clotaire said gruffly when I came in, Grégoire was sat at the table, his little wooden horse cantering over the oak edge and bringing up clouds of dust in its wake. My mouth curled into a sneer when I ran a finger through the dust and it left a grey coating on my finger.
"This is disgusting, has no one respect for the dead or the living here." I murmured, Clotaire gave a shrug.
"I suppose no one anticipated our arrival." he said.
I sighed, despite my own determination of keeping my servants in check, I had wanted to rest and see them rested, but it looked like we had an afternoon of cleaning on our hands.
"Is there anything to eat?" I asked.
"No, my lady."
I could have quite easily let an oath pass my lips, but I eased my breathing once more and gripped my hands in front of me.
"Clotaire, you go into the village and see if you can find someone to pay for an afternoon of cooking and food. Edgard and Gaurin can clean the downstairs rooms, while Celine and I will do upstairs, once you return try to get the barracks in order; make a list of anything you will think we should need. Whoever you find for a cook, get them to make a list of everything we need here."
He gave a swift bow, pulled on his cloak and left the room, I heard him shout orders to Edgard and Gaurin in French.
"Mama, what should I do?" Gregoire looked up at me.
"Nothing, mon agneau. You've had a long journey, once Celine and I have done your room you can come in there for a nap."
"But there's nothing else for me to do." he whines. Who am I to demand my son doesn't work when he offers his service? This is a rarity and will probably not happen till he breaks something of mine again. I hide my smile.
"Very well, would you like to clean the table and the stairs?"
He nods eagerly, so when Edgard has cleaned the grate in the kitchen and got a fire going, we heat some water and I bring in a little bucket and cloth for my son. I can't help my grimace when the water in the bucket slowly turns a grey colour very quickly, but at least the table is cleaned. Edgard sets about cleaning the fireplaces, while Gaurin wipes the surfaces. It is probably not what they had in mind when they joined me as my guards, but there are no other servants to do such tasks. I run upstairs to join Celine.
It feels strange going into my Uncle's room and knowing it will be mine, the bed is made rather neatly, but there is still a fine coating of dust on all the wooden furniture. I go about the room, examining the wooden chest, the desk with its intricately curled pattern around the edge of the wood and the smooth, warm surface, the chair in the same design with a fabric seat and backing set into the wood. Like all the rooms before the shutters are closed against the weather and thieves, I pull back the heavily embroidered curtains, a soft dull green colour with golden thread and then open the shutters, cool air replacing the heated, stale air within the room. I turn back to the bed, it's almost a pity the coverlet is so nice and so well designed. That and it matches the hangings and curtains.
"We will need new covers and sheets for the bed; I'm not sleeping in an old man's death shroud." I mutter. Yet more work! Was no one aware of our arrival or did our existence not matter to them, had my uncle and cousin never mentioned us to anyone? I shrugged and sighed, it hardly mattered, and there were just so many tasks that needed seeing to. Food needed to be brought, the barracks restoring, bed linen replacing, I needed to advertise for new servants and the place needed to be blessed by a Priest, I had no desire for returning spirits.
"My lady, this woman has offered to cook and clean for us a while. She has brought some food with her, which I've reimbursed." Clotaire stood in the doorway, with a small, wiry woman, she had sharp eyes and grey hair, an apron tied around her middle and a scowl on her face that looked far from subservient.
"Good, thank you Clotaire and you, madam. But before you do, you will answer some questions I have." I said.
"Depends what the questions are, madam." she said, I glare at her, till she shifts her eyes away from my own.
"Firstly, you will address me properly, as I am a lady, both by birth and marriage. Secondly, you will not dictate to me which questions you will or will not answer, you shall answer them all truthfully, is that understood?"
She nodded, eyes still downcast.
"Good." I smiled thinly, "First question, where are my servants and why was the house not made ready for us? I sent a letter weeks ago."
"Sir Guy of Locksley turfed them out and as we were not being paid no one returned."
I scowled bitterly, again the name reminded me of someone, but I could not remember who that was and why was he turfing out my servants?
"Last I was here, a man named Robin of Locksley owned Locksley Manor."
"Well you've not been here for some time, my lady." I bite my tongue against her rude tone. "Robin of Locksley went against the Sherriff of Nottingham and–"
"The Sherriff of Nottingham? Sir Edward?"
"Nay, my lady. He was…he retired from the post. The man in his stead is called Vaisey."
"I was also under the impression that Lady Marian was to be married to Robin of Locksley."
"Indeed she was, my lady." The old woman's face grew softer, clearly my cousin had been dear to these folks, "But Robin was made an outlaw and she died in the Holy Land, no one is exactly sure how."
I nodded, my mind reeling with thoughts…Robin an outlaw, was that the outlaw we met in the woods? Perhaps I could use this to my gain, I smirk. Before looking back to the woman and seeing a little boldness enter her eyes.
"Now may I ask who you are and who these French people are?" she snapped, I saw Celine and Clotaire tense, as though they would both willingly launch themselves at the old hag and bite her. But I made a gesture of calm, they were in England now, insults would readily fall upon us. I was probably being called a French whore already by someone in the nearby town.
"I am Lady Anne, widow to Lord Robert de Sauveterre. The people with me are loyal servants, including my Captain of Guards, Clotaire, his guardsmen, Edgard and Gaurin and the nurse to my son, Celine. My Uncle was Sir Edward and my cousin was Lady Marian, I am here to claim this land and property for my son, Grégoire, now heir to Knighton Hall."
The old woman's mouth falls open in shock and she instantly bows down in a lopsided curtsey, "Forgive me, my lady. I did not realise you had a real claim to the place, I thought you were…" she stops, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
"You thought what?" I ask coldly.
"That…um…well, it's just the way it looks…you see…"
"You, thought what?" I ask again.
She twists her hands and nervously looks down to the floor, "Well…that you were one of Vaisey's or Sir Guy's…"
"One of their what?"
"Um…I meant no offense, my lady. But you are the Lady Marian's cousin, so I'm sure you will understand…" she simpers and I find myself growing quite irritated by this stupid peasant, "I thought you were one of the Sherriff's or Sir Guy's lackeys." Her nervous little smile dawns on her face too quickly and before she knows it I have pulled back the hand holding my glove and struck her across the face. She gasps and pulls her hand to her cheek, I grab it.
"Let me make something quite clear. You are correct in your assumption, that I am not a lackey to either the Sherriff or Sir Guy, however, if Sir Guy owns Locksley and Vaisey is the Sherriff of Nottingham you will show them the respect and deference they deserve; not because you think it right, but because they were born to it and it is God's decree that he should put them there. Finally, I am neither my cousin nor my uncle, in whatever way you were treated beforehand makes no difference to me or my authority over this place. I may share some similarities to my cousin, including my name, but that does not make me her. Vous comprenez?"
The old woman is shaking before me, but she nods her head and wets her dried lips, "Yes, my lady."
I smile eagerly, "Bon. Now if you will go downstairs and try to make something that is a little edible, we have been travelling all day and an empty stomach always makes me irritable."
She gives another curtsey and Clotaire guides her from the room, a little more roughly than his usual gentle nature. I sigh and continue to clean the room, before going to Marian's old one and cleaning it for my son. A hair set still remains on the table by her mirror and there are some dresses and undergarments in her chest and wardrobe, but I have no desire to keep them. I make a note on the list on the things to sell. My cousin was taller and slimmer around the hips anyway, her clothes would not fit me and mine are better. But perhaps Celine can have a few of the simpler gowns and perhaps some can be salvaged for me to wear.
"Celine." I call and she hurries in.
"Yes, my lady."
"Hold this up to yourself, see if it fits."
"Yes, Lady Anne. But I thought we were meant to be ridding the house of the old fabric and bed clothes."
"Mmm, we are. I'll sell most of these dresses, but some of these can go to better use. Yes, that looks as if it'll fit you,"
I hand her a simple gown of brown with a design of pale brown flowers and another one of dark blue. "The rest I will have a look through, though I hate English fashions." I dislike my cousin's keenness on corsets, either made of leather or fabric. Celine gives a small laugh and I smile back at her, were our positions reversed I would not forget what had happened to me so readily, but she has forgotten and shakes her head at 'English fashions'. Not that the English really have any fashion at all, they just copy everyone else, to the best of their abilities.
Clearly smooth lines and flowing fabric was lost to my cousin, but then she always felt self-conscious about her breasts, they were just a little smaller than average. I always had bigger breasts, but it means I cannot wear anything that rises to my neck, otherwise I look lumpy. I ensure all my necklines, whether scooped round or square, dip low, so the curves of my breasts can be seen and the pale softness of my skin. My lip curls once more on seeing all my cousin's dresses of red and brown, I had never suited such colours; I always wore green, grey, blue or silver. It was partly the reason why I became known in my region as 'l'épouse de l'eau'.Even my cousin's green dresses were dull of colour; I shook my head and tutted.
"My lady?" Celine said, I smiled and turned to her, holding the offending item.
"Well it wasn't as though my cousin was a peasant." I muttered and flung it to the floor, where it joined several other dresses. Orange, black, red all thrown on the floor. I examined a white one made with a rumpled fabric and embellished neckline. It was relatively nice, but the neckline would have to be cut lower and the skirt raised. I threw it on the bed.
"To keep." I explained to Celine, who nodded and then folded it neatly, before continuing cleaning out the chest. I did not want any of my cousin's undergarments. They were too long and unflattering in any case, were I to show them to any man…not that such an event was likely. I studied a stripe green and brown overdress, before throwing it on the floor. Mustard yellow, definitely went onto the floor. A light blue dress caught my attention for a little while, but I decided it would not suit my skin colour. It was too insipid.
l'épouse de l'eau - The water wife
mon agneau - my lamb