Now that their visitors had returned to Normandy, Ailith applied herself to the task of packing the travelling chests for the Christmas visit to London. She was greatly looking forward to seeing the city again. Although she had settled at Ulverton, she still harboured longings for the bustling markets of Chepeside with their unrivalled selection of commodities, for the smoky, smutty, greasy smell of the city's heart. She wanted to see Felice again, and most of all, in order to fill the empty hole in her heart, she had a fierce need to hold Benedict in her arms.
Her own chest was packed and contained a plain working gown, her best, wedding outfit, and a dress of plain green wool decorated with embroidery. The linens for her monthly bleeds, leg bindings, woollen socks, spare combs and jewellery pins had also been included. There was nothing else she required.
Rolf would be attending the court to make his report to the King, so he would need his best robes. Tancred had brought gifts across the narrow sea from Rolf's wife, including a beautiful tunic of expensive dark blue wool embroidered with thread of gold. His old court garment was of almost the same colour. Rolf wore a great deal of blue, and it suited him, but Ailith thought that a change might gladden the eye. To that end, before Tancred's arrival, she had purchased two bolts of fabric, one of rich tawny, the other a smoky green that matched Rolf's eyes, and during the last three weeks of withdrawal from open company, she had made Rolf two very fine tunics that were just as worthy of his rank as the blue.
Ailith had dared not explore the emotions behind her determination to make as good as, if not better a task of the tunics than his wife had made of the blue. Nor was she proud of herself for the way she examined the blue robe in strong light, searching for flaws. Those were acts that smacked of jealousy and how could she be jealous of that which she did not desire?
All the same, as she folded Rolf's clothing in his baggage chest, she placed the blue robe in the bottom and laid everything else on top, finishing with the two tunics she herself had stitched, together with a shirt of fine, soft linen.
'I see you are well ahead,' Rolf said from the doorway.
Ailith jumped guiltily and turned round. He was leaning against the door jamb, watching her, his arms folded. She wondered how long he had been there, and if he had seen her lingering touch when she carefully laid the tunics and shirt within the chest.
'It seems only sensible to be ready in good time. Tomorrow dawn with everyone waiting in the bailey is no occasion to be packing baggage.'
'No,' he agreed with a smile, and pushing himself upright, advanced into the room, which was, after all, his own.
'You can come out of hiding now that Tancred's gone. I have never known you to be so industrious in far-away corners,' he teased. 'He was as embarrassed as you were.' He tilted his head to one side. 'Tancred is a good friend and the best overseer a man could have. When the time comes, his son Mauger will inherit his father's place. I could not wish for better people to serve me, even as I could not wish for a better chatelaine. I expect you and Tancred to forget that first day and rub along together if circumstances demand.'
Ailith had watched Rolf and Tancred drinking together, had seen their camaraderie and the way each man reacted upon the other until they degenerated into silly little boys. She had also heard them discussing horses and bloodlines in the yard with a fluid expertise that left her a baffled outsider.
'If it is important to you, I will do my best,' she said.
He eyed her thoughtfully. 'Fetch your cloak,' he said suddenly. 'I want to see how good a rider you are these days.'
Ailith shook her head. Since arriving at Ulverton, she had been coaxed by Rolf into learning how to ride on her own instead of going pillion behind him or a groom, or taking a seat in the baggage wain, but she knew herself an indifferent horsewoman. 'I haven't the time,' she excused lamely.
'Then make it.'
Before she knew what was happening, Ailith found herself down in the lower courtyard outside the stables. A groom led out a small chestnut mare with sharply pricked ears, a bright eye, and a high-stepping action.
'She won't be mated until the spring.' Rolf gave Ailith a gentle push in the mare's direction. 'She is yours until then.'
Ailith swallowed, not at all sure that she desired such a splendid gift.
'Do not you dare to say that she is beyond your station or moralise on what people will think of you,' Rolf forestalled her protest. 'You will not shame me before everyone here by refusing.'
Ailith smiled nervously. 'I fear that I will shame myself. 'How will I stay in the saddle when I am only accustomed to the plodding paces of that old brown cob?'
'You'll learn between here and London,' he said cheerfully, and cupping his hands for her foot, boosted her into the saddle. The young mare shied and almost unseated Ailith. She clung grimly to the reins, gripped with her thighs, and after a few fraught moments, managed to bring the horse under control. She glared at Rolf. He just grinned.
'You will never see anything but the ground unless you lift your eyes to the horizon,' he told her. 'Live a little, Ailith, cast yourself into the wind.'
Ailith drew in the reins as tight as she could. 'At the moment,' she retorted, 'I am more concerned with not casting myself beneath the hooves of this horse.'
CHAPTER 23
Whistling to himself, Rolf came in from the cold and sat down at the fire beside Aubert. The wine merchant was recovering from an attack of winter ague, and although over the worst, was cosseting himself before his hearth, using his blocked nose as an excuse to drink hot, cinnamon-flavoured wine.
Rolf rubbed his hands and held them out to the flames. 'Tell me I am mad,' he said.
'You do not need me to tell you that!' Aubert snorted. 'What have you done? Wagered your fortune on the throw of a single dice? Courted another man's wife beneath his very nose?'
Rolf laughed. 'Neither of those, although they were both possibilities. No, I'm going north next week with Robert de Comminges. The King has granted him the lordship of Durham — it's a city close to the Scots border.'
'Ah, your incurable wanderlust.' Aubert looked at him sidelong. 'I did not know Robert de Comminges was a friend of yours.'
'He isn't, but he pays well for his horses. I've seen nothing of England north of the Trent, but I have heard that they breed fine, sturdy ponies in the north parts of the old Danelaw.'
'You intend breeding ponies?' Aubert lifted a curious brow.
'There are plenty of buyers for good sumpter beasts. Think of all the English wool that has to be carried to the ports for shipping to Flanders.'
Aubert nodded at the sense of the statement and stroked his bristly jaw. 'You talk like a merchant,' he said dryly.
'I am, although not as adept as you if what I hear of your business ventures is true.'
Aubert shrugged modestly. 'I invest in vessels and cargoes, and thus far, they've all had the good fortune to return me a profit,'
'A handsome profit. I understand you've invested in property too.'
'Here and there, mere dabblings to provide security. I want to leave Benedict well provided for when it comes his turn to inherit.'
Rolf doubted the veracity of Aubert's claim to 'mere dabblings', for that was not Aubert's way. He suspected that his friend's ventures were making him a very rich man. Before he could decide how to fish further, however, the door was flung open and Felice and Ailith bustled into the room, their arms loaded with Chepeside purchases.
Felice looked as beautiful as always, her cheeks rosy-bright, her dark eyes sparkling, but it was Ailith who held Rolf's eye – and tugged at his heartstrings. The alchemy of laughter transformed her entire face and made of it a bewitching new territory that he longed to explore with a wanderlust almost as powerful as that which drew him towards the north.