Strange that she was having these thoughts now, when her ultimate goal was about to be achieved. She would be safe from all the grumbling and anger lingering around Glynval since the coroner’s abandoned inquiry, and since Maud claimed that their lord was cursed and was causing Glynval’s troubles.
But as she pictured the abbey, a huge gray building with smaller buildings surrounding it, and a high wall around the entire compound, it didn’t give her a feeling of safety. Instead, loneliness, sameness, and solemnity seemed to emanate from the cold stone walls.
Safety was being near Lord le Wyse, hearing him say he would protect her, and feeling his arms around her.
Nay! She wiped a hand across her forehead, trying to wipe away the unbidden images and sensations. O God, take these thoughts from my mind. I have no desire to transgress against Lord le Wyse in this way. He’s my lord and should not be — that is, it is wrong to have such — O God, save me.
Annabel felt listless as she helped prepare for the evening meal. Not even Mistress Eustacia’s chatter in the kitchen could lift her spirits.
She was turning a pig on a spit over the fire when the door opened and Lord le Wyse stepped inside, letting in the chill wind of fall.
A smell, an intangible feeling, was in the air. Perhaps a storm was coming. It had been so dry since the fateful day of the inquest, a storm would be welcome. But a shudder passed over her shoulders as the chill seemed to pass through her bones.
She had never seen her lord’s face looking so pale. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
He ignored her question and focused on Mistress Eustacia. “Annabel is leaving us tomorrow morning. I wish for you to accompany her and Gilbert on the journey to the abbey. That is all.” He bowed slightly and backed out the door.
The two women stared at each other.
“What does it mean, child?” Mistress Eustacia’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“I’m entering the abbey. Though I don’t know why Lord le Wyse wants you to go with me.” The foreboding feeling expanded inside her. Something was wrong.
“The abbey? Why, child — but I’d hoped …” Mistress Eustacia pursed her lips and turned away.
Now her mistress was angry with her for not listening when she told Annabel that the abbey was not for her, that she should marry.
Annabel thought she would be full of joy when she was finally able to leave Glynval and go to a nunnery. But the expression on Lord le Wyse’s face, the way he ignored her question and wouldn’t even look at her …
Was she doing the wrong thing?
Ranulf stared out the glass window from the second floor of his new home. Some movement at the edge of the cleared area in front of the castle caught his eye. Tom atte Water and several other men crouched behind some bushes fifty feet from the steps leading up to the front door.
Tom and the men squinted up at the stone edifice, toward Ranulf. Then they ducked their heads, speaking to each other and gesturing. Each man held a weapon — a knife, a spear, or a longbow with a quiver of arrows over one shoulder. They seemed to be on a hunt — and he was their prey.
It was beginning. He’d been half expecting it. He went to look for his sword and found it, as well as a crossbow and several arrows, an old battle ax his father had once carried, a shield, and a spear. If it was a fight the villagers wanted, so be it.
His new home was only partially complete, but even if it were, there were no real defenses planned in the design: no protective wall, no crenellations to hide behind, no gatehouse or guards to keep out intruders. He was vulnerable to attack, and it looked as if Tom had already stirred up the people against him.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. He hadn’t hired a new bailiff yet, and none of the men he’d brought with him were fighting men. They were builders, carpenters, laborers.
He looked out the window again. Tom and the men of the village were retreating. It would soon be dark; perhaps they wanted to wait until morning.
He would have to round up the men he’d brought from Lincoln and tell them what was happening. At least they were loyal, and they were strong. As they had to be, for they would probably be outnumbered two to one.
If it came down to it, Ranulf would rather die alone than get any of them killed. But at least Annabel and Eustacia would be out of Glynval at first light.
He stared at the rose on the mantle of his new home, in the vase Eustacia had been filling with fresh flowers for several weeks. The rose that was in the vase now was wilting fast. Several petals had already fallen off. It was almost as if the rose was commiserating with him, as the spirit of life prepared to depart from them both.
Chapter
19