She watched the boys run off together and, between the worry and the relief, felt quite drained. Halfway across the bailey, they bumped into Oliver. He stopped and spoke to them. Catrin saw Richard gesture over his shoulder in her direction, and Oliver glance across. Sending the boys on their way, he walked over to her. His stride was long, she noticed, with a slight downward dip on the right side.
'You found him then? he said.
'No, Thomas did. She pulled a face. 'I feel foolish now for my panic, and I've held up your journey for nothing.
'It would not have been a nothing if he truly had taken to his heels. Oliver gazed across the bailey at Thomas and Richard, their heads close in conversation as they walked. 'But it seems to have worked for the best.
'Yes. She bit her lip.
'He'll be all right. He touched her arm in reassurance. 'You would not say that if you had heard him last night. 'It would be strange if he did not have nightmares. After Emma died, I did not sleep unbrokenly for more than a year.
He folded his arms. 'There are herbs he can be given to help him sleep without dreams.
'And you know them all? she said, thinking of the tisane he had made to ease her headache.
He smiled and shook his head. 'By no means, but I know someone who does.
'Oh yes, Etheldreda of the eel stew. She rubbed the stain on her gown. 'Did you enjoy it?
'It was delicious, he said gravely. 'Look, I'll ask her to make a sleeping potion for the lad in case he needs it.
Catrin thanked him, then frowned. 'But you'll be gone at least two nights and Richard needs it now.
'I'll have a word on the way out and tell her to bring it to you. She'll be curious to meet you.
The sentiment was mutual, Catrin thought. In her mind's eye a picture had formed of an alluring witch-woman, with an abundance of wild, dark hair and snapping black eyes set on the slant. 'So you told her all about me? It was a disquieting thought.
Oliver tilted his head. 'Not everything, he said with a slow smile.
Catrin's stomach leaped and her face grew hot. When Lewis had been alive, she had enjoyed flirting, the banter of voice and body language. It had kept his eyes from straying to pastures new. Three years later, with several hard life-lessons beneath her belt, the art had grown rusty. Nor, with memories of how easily her husband's eyes had wandered, was she inclined to play the game with another woman's man. 'I must go, she said. 'They'll be wondering about me in the bower.
'So must I, else it'll be nightfall before we arrive. Inclining his head in farewell, he turned from her and set off in the direction of the outer bailey. Catrin watched his retreating figure, the confidence of his stride, the way he spoke cheerfully to an acquaintance as he went on his way. In the three years since Lewis's death she had come to terms with her loss and it had diminished to a dull ache at the back of her mind. Now, once more, it was a clear, sharp pain that took her breath. She was aware of standing in the bailey, alone amongst all the vigour and bustle, her figure small and insignificant. She doubted that anyone would care deeply, or even notice, if she were suddenly to vanish.
Then Catrin clucked her tongue impatiently. What did it matter if no one cared, as long as she did herself? Relying on others was a dangerous way to live, and frequently a waste of time. Drawing herself up, she returned to the keep, prepared to face whatever the day held.
Chapter 5
'You can have these, said Countess Mabile. She had been rummaging in the depths of an oak coffer and now emerged with a length of unbleached linen and another of sage-green wool. 'You're neither tall nor buxom. There should be enough for an under gown and dress.
'Thank you, my lady. Catrin took the fabric with gratitude. The wool in particular was of excellent quality and, despite Mabile's words, there was plenty to make a dress and probably enough for some panels in the sides and modest hanging sleeves. All she had to do was cut and sew them — and as quickly as possible, given the state of her current garments. She had discarded the tawny overgown because it was just too stained and obnoxious to be seen in polite company. Her blue-green undertunic clung flatteringly to her figure, but there was a large patch near one of the seams where moths had caused damage, and a couple of burn marks on the skirt from leaping embers.
The Countess looked her up and down. 'You'll need something for now as well, she said, and went to plunder another coffer. It was her own personal one and more ornately carved and inlaid than the other. Her face was animated, a pink flush to her cheeks. Catrin could see that Mabile was enjoying herself greatly making a silk purse from a sow's ear.
'I'm sure one of my daughter's old gowns is in here. She left it after a visit — she was pregnant at the time and it wouldn't fit her any more. Ah, here we are. From the chest, she drew a dress of dark crimson wool. It was in the fitted style, tight to the waist, then flaring out to an almost circular hem. There was gold thread woven into the braid at cuff and throat and the matching waist-tie. Catrin had never seen a gown so fine, and stared in disbelief as the Countess handed it to her.
'My lady, I cannot! she gasped, feeling overawed.
'Don't be foolish, Mabile snapped. 'It's lain here for three years as it is. If it stays any longer, the moths will make use of it beyond repair. Put it on and let me hear no more. She thrust it into Catrin's arms and turned back to the coffer. There's a wimple in here somewhere that should suit.
Speechless with gratitude, Catrin donned the red gown. The sleeves and hem were slightly too long, but otherwise it was a good fit, and the colour was a perfect foil for her black hair and hazel-green eyes.
'Catrin, you look beautiful! Edon FitzMar circled her, twitching the gown into place. 'You'll have all the knights falling over each other to share your trencher in the hall!
Catrin pulled a face. 'Reason enough to take it off this instant, she said, but really she was pleased, her confidence buoyed by the luxury of the new garment and the admiration she saw in the other young woman's eyes. Nor did the cold envy in Rohese de Bayvel's disturb her, for it only served to confirm that the red dress must suit her.
The Countess found a wimple of cream-coloured silk, edged with crimson embroidery, and secured it lightly over Catrin's braids with a brass circlet. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork. 'Much better, she declared. 'Child, you are quite lovely.
Catrin reddened at the compliment. Fine feathers, it seemed, did make a fine bird.
For the rest of the morning, she and Edon sat in a corner of the bower, cutting and sewing the linen and wool into new garments. Catrin did not want to parade about the keep in the red gown. It was too fine to wear except in the hall at night and on special occasions. Rohese did not offer to help with either the cutting or the sewing, and Catrin was glad, for it saved her the bother of refusing. She had a strong suspicion that given the opportunity, Rohese would have ruined the fabric in some way. Catrin resolved to keep her distance as much as she could.
Edon proved a competent seamstress in her own right and was brisk with a needle. As she stitched, she asked tentative questions about Catrin's past. She was obviously curious, and just as obviously trying to be tactful. Unfortunately the two did not marry.
'I'm so sorry about your husband, she said, after Catrin had reluctantly yielded the information that he had been killed in a fight. 'It must have been horrible to lose him when you had been wed so short a time.
Catrin fought the urge to snap at her companion. Edon could not know how deep the wound was, but she was doing an admirable job of grinding salt into it.
Edon looked at her sidelong, and her face fell. 'I shouldn't have said that, should I? She touched Catrin's arm in an apologetic gesture. 'Geoffrey's always telling me that I never stop to think.