"Ma Belle douce is shy," Hugh said with false sweetness. "It pleases me that she be so demure and retiring. It but adds to her charm. You will watch your mother, ma Belle, and learn from her. I shall not require you to bathe me until we are man and wife."

"Go to the devil!" Isabelle snapped at him. "I will not remain here to see you pampered like some overweening infant." She whirled about, but Rolf blocked her way, smiling blandly.

"You have heard the lord's instructions, lady," he said.

"The lord's instructions?" The girl looked at him, outraged, and then kicked him as hard as she could in the shin.

"Owwwww!" Rolf yelped, hopping about as Isabelle pushed past him and was gone out the door.

"Ahhh, lady," Ida said, a disapproving look upon her face, "the girl should have been beaten long ago. May God have mercy upon you, my lord Hugh. The wench is possessed by demons for certain."

"Add more hot water to the tub, Ida," Hugh answered her. "It grows cold." Then he turned his head, smiling up at Alette. "Do not fear, lady, I will tame her in time," he promised.

"She has a kind heart for animals, my lord," Alette said, tears in her bright blue eyes, "but with people she is so impatient." Then without another word Alette washed Langston's lord. When she had finished, she dried him off, wrapping him in a warm towel. "The solar is yours now, my lord. I cleared my possessions from it today. I will sleep with my daughter until she is your wife, and then, with your permission, keep the chamber for myself. Ida will take you and see you comfortably settled. Go quickly lest you catch a chill."

He wanted to protest, but he did not. She had done what was correct, for the lord's chamber was now his by right. She would have been embarrassed, and not just a little offended, had he refused her, even out of kindness and consideration for the lady herself. "I thank you, madame, for your courtesy," he replied, and followed Ida from the bathing chamber to his new quarters.

Alette now turned to Rolf de Briard. "Come, my lord," she said to him, "do not dally, for the priest has yet to wash himself."

Rolf masked his shyness at disrobing before her, as he quickly handed her his clothing and climbed into the tub just vacated by his friend. He had thought Alette the loveliest woman he had ever seen when he first laid eyes upon her. Now, he realized that he was still strongly attracted to her. He was not certain what to do. "How old are you?" he suddenly asked, surprising her.

A rosy glow suffused her, and she was relieved that his back was to her so he could not see it. "I am thirty," she told him. "I was fourteen when I was married to Robert de Manneville, and just fifteen when Isabelle was born. Why do you ask?"

"I am thirty-two," he answered, and then grew silent.

"Do you have a wife?" she asked him after a short time. She was diligently scrubbing his short white-blond hair.

"Nay. I could never afford one. I am a younger son of a third wife," he explained. "Were my eldest brother not the generous man he is, I should never have had the means to become a knight, but Ranulf, God bless him, always had a soft spot for me."

"It helps to have someone who loves you," Alette agreed. "I was orphaned at the age of four, and put into my uncle's care. He was a hard man, but eventually saw that a husband was found for me."

"Did you love Robert de Manneville?" Rolf asked boldly. He had no right to do so, he knew, but somehow he had to know.

"He was my husband," Alette said quietly. "I gave him my loyalty, my honor, and my respect. He asked no more. He sought a wife to raise his sons and give him other sons. In that I failed him." She rinsed his hair, pouring a bucket of warm water over it, and handed him a cloth to mop his face. "You are clean now, my lord," she said, and he arose to be toweled. "Have you fresh garments to wear in the morning, or shall I have the laundress wash these tonight?"

"I have other clothing," he answered her as she wrapped a warm towel tightly about his loins.

"Then seek your bed, sir, before you catch a draught," Alette ordered him, and she smiled sweetly.

"Lady, I thank you for your attention," he replied, and departed the bathing chamber.

Alette released some of the water from the tub, and then, adding more hot water, went to find the priest so he might bathe. After checking to see that the fires in the hall were banked, she found Ida and instructed her to see the bathing chamber was cleaned when Father Bernard had finished his ablutions. "Then come to bed, Ida. Belle's room will be crowded until she weds the lord, but you will have the trundle, and my daughter's serving woman will sleep upon a pallet."

"The sooner the girl weds, the better," Ida said, her look disapproving. "She needs correction, and only a husband can give it to her. God forgive Lord Robert that he would not let her be disciplined as a child. She is like some wild creature, my lady."

"Better to pray that the new lord does not grow angry and ask King Henry for another wife," Alette fretted.

"Go and rest yerself, my lady," Ida told her, patting her mistress's arm. "It will look better in the morning, I am certain. Surely lady Isabelle can be made to see reason."

"May God and His Blessed Mother hear all our prayers," Alette replied fervently.

Chapter 3.

Langston Keep was not a large establishment. Off its Great Hall, at one end of the building, was a buttery and a pantry. The solar was located behind the Great Hall at its far end. It took up two-thirds of the space, with the bathing chamber taking up the rest. Along one wall of the Great Hall three doors opened into small rooms, one of which was Isabelle's. It was separated from the other two, which were used for guests, by the fireplace. The household servants slept in an attic above the hall. Below was a huge space for the storage of foodstuffs, weapons, and other dry goods, and the kitchens as well.

Hugh and Rolf learned that the keep had no mesne, or organized military personnel. The porter was a doddering old fellow. There were no watchmen or men-at-arms. Hugh understood how providential the arrival of two knights with their squires had been.

"How would you have protected yourselves if you had been attacked?" he asked Belle. "Langston has been a sitting duck for too long, and only your isolation has protected you." He was almost angry.

"Who would attack us?" she demanded scornfully. "Besides, the villages would rally if there was danger."

"Your serfs would run into the woods and hide," he said bluntly. "It is debatable if they would even remember to take the livestock with them. You and your mother could have been killed, or worse."

Rolf went into the villages, asking who would prefer life as a man-at-arms to tilling the soil. He returned with a respectable troupe of younger sons ready and eager to be turned into soldiers. Half a dozen slightly older men who had offered their service would be trained with the younger men, but would become watchmen for the keep. The elderly porter would be replaced by his grandsons. Daily the men marched upon the bailey green, usually under the watchful eyes of the two squires, Fulk and Giles, who also taught their fledglings how to use spear, pike, and crossbow. Sometimes Rolf or Hugh would come to watch, and make suggestions.

As Langston's steward, or seneschal, it was now Rolf's duty to administer the estate. He would handle routine legal and financial matters, and direct the serfs and freedmen. In a larger household the various domestic departments would each have had a head, answerable to the steward, but Langston was far too small for such grandeur. Rolf preferred leaving the handling of the keep's staff to Alette for the time being. To his great surprise, Isabelle proved enormously helpful as well. The household's records up to the death of the last steward were meticulous. The previous holder of the office had been both thorough and careful in his management.

As Belle could neither read nor write, she had kept all the facts of the estate's business in her head, memorizing them down to the smallest detail. Now she sat patiently with Rolf in the Great Hall for several mornings, dictating the details to him as he carefully transcribed them into the estate books.

"Her memory is absolutely faultless," Rolf told Hugh admiringly as they rode out one afternoon to Langston's farthest village to see what repairs were necessary to the cottages before spring. "I could not help but ask my lady Alette why her daughter was being so cooperative with me when she resents our presence so bitterly. My lady says that her daughter is actually relieved to have a steward to take over again because she prefers being out of doors to having the responsibility of Langston on her slender shoulders. I think the lady Alette dissembles a bit with me, for Isabelle of Langston loves her lands dearly. It must be a wrench for her to give up her authority. Still, she is no fool, and must realize she has no choice in the matter.

"Isabelle accepted the responsibility willingly when she had to," Rolf continued. "For a maid to fulfill her familial obligations so thoroughly is very commendable. If you but tame the wench, she may make you a good wife after all."

"She was a good administrator?" Hugh asked his friend, impressed by Rolf's praise of Belle.

"Aye! The serfs may complain, and claim to be glad to have a lord over them once again, but it is only because they resented having a woman rule them. She was every bit as hard as a man with them, seeing that the rents were paid on time, that the fields were tilled and harvested properly, that a fair price was obtained at market. She has not allowed the villages to fall into disrepair, or the poachers take too much game from the woodlands. Aye, the lady Isabelle did very well for Langston in the absence of its lord, Hugh."

Hugh Fauconier was pleased by Rolf's words. There could come a time, and not so far away, when they would be called upon to serve the king in a military campaign. It pleased him to know that Isabelle would be able to manage in their absence.

Everything was going smoothly but for his courtship. Belle remained fiercely hostile. There seemed to be no level upon which he could approach her in a tender manner. Rolf, he noticed, however, seemed to be girding up his courage to approach the widowed lady Alette. He had not spoken of his feelings, but Hugh had eyes in his head, and saw the direction in which his friend's interest lay. I shall have to build a house within the bailey for my steward, he thought, smiling.

The next day dawned gray and damp. It had been very cold all week. Nonetheless Belle put on her cloak and disappeared from the hall shortly after breakfast. Hugh watched her as she made her way across the bailey to the granary. She entered it, and exited a few minutes later carrying a cloth bag. Fascinated, he decided to follow her. The landscape being relatively flat made it easy to keep her in sight, and he kept far enough behind her as to not attract her attention.

Isabelle walked briskly over the frosty fields. The ground was hard beneath her feet. There was no wind, and a pearlescent sun tried hard to force its way through the milky sky, but was unsuccessful in its attempt. Ahead, Belle could see the river. A thin coating of ice had built up along its banks. The tall, deep gold reeds with their feathery heads stood like silent sentinels in the morning light. An upturned cockle was drawn on the shore. Reaching it, Belle sat down, staring out across the water. Just a few miles downstream lay the sea.

Hugh stopped, watching the girl as she sat in silent contemplation. He had never seen her so calm, so at peace.

A small flock of snow geese flew low over the river, setting down in the water near Isabelle. She did not move even as they came swimming ashore and then waddled out of the water. The geese gathered about the girl's feet. Reaching into the bag she carried, she began spreading the grain for them. The birds ate quickly, greedily, and when they had finished, they settled down about her, preening, one or two meandering up to have their necks rubbed. Hugh Fauconier was totally fascinated by the scene. Then, at some unheard signal, the geese hurried with much clacking back into the water, and swam off up the river. He wondered about it until he saw two large white swans emerging from the reeds. They are such ungainly birds on land, Hugh thought.

Isabelle stood up now, and reaching into her bag, tossed grain to the swans. When they pressed themselves around her, Hugh worried, for swans were notoriously mean and could bite cruelly. Belle, however, stood unafraid. The swans were obviously old friends. Hugh understood the patience needed to gain the trust of such feral creatures, for he had raised, tamed, and trained hawks and falcons his entire life. He had sensed from the beginning that Belle herself was such a creature. Now, seeing her with the geese and swans, he realized that if wild birds could be brought to eat from her hand, there was, for all her willfulness and temper, much good within the girl who was to be his wife. He had seen enough. Turning, he followed the almost invisible path through the fields back to the keep.

"Will it snow?" Alette wondered aloud that evening as they gathered in the Great Hall.

"By morning," Belle answered her mother. "The damp was almost visible in the air. It has been quite cold for several days now, and there has been no wind all day, madame. The beasts have been brought from the fields. I saw them being driven in as I returned home this afternoon. The serfs know the weather almost as well as I do."

"Are the snows heavy in winter here, ma Belle?" Hugh inquired.

"They are mostly light, but sometimes great," she answered him. "Why did you follow me today, my lord?"

"You saw me?" He was surprised. He had been careful.

"First I heard you. You are a big man, and move noisily. Then I saw you," she answered him, "out of the corner of my eye as I fed my flock."

"I wanted to see where you went," he answered honestly.

"Did you think I went to meet a lover?" she demanded, an edge to her voice. "I do not like being spied upon."

"I did not think you had a lover," he said quietly.

"What? Am I not desirable enough, then?" Her tone was sharper.

"I think your sense of honor is far greater than any passion you might feel," Hugh told her. "In our short acquaintance you have not appeared to me to be light-skirted, ma Belle."

For the first time since they had met, she smiled at him. There was no doubt his reply had pleased her. She said nothing more on the matter.

"Do you play chess?" he asked her.

"I do," she said, "and I am very good. Neither of my brothers could beat me, my lord. Can your masculine pride stand the thought of being beaten by a woman? I neither ask nor give quarter."

"Fetch the board, ma Belle," he told her with a smile.

The table was brought, and the pieces taken from a carved ivory box to be set up upon the board. They began to play, silently at first, then jibing at and mocking one another as each took an opponent's piece. Belle swiftly won the game, but Hugh only laughed, demanding an immediate rematch, which she willingly agreed to give him.

"Do you think he is making any headway with her?" Rolf quietly asked Alette as they sat together by the fire, sipping wine.

"My daughter is an enigma to me," Alette replied frankly. "I admit that I have never quite understood her. She has her father's bold spirit, not mine, I fear, and what is good in a man is not perhaps good in a girl."

"You are so fair," he said suddenly, surprised by his own boldness.

"What?" She was not certain she had heard him aright.

"I said you are so fair," he repeated with more assurance. "Has no one ever told you that, my lady Alette?" Rolf de Briard had brown eyes, and they warmly surveyed her. "I am of good birth," he said, "although mayhap I do not have the right to speak to you thusly."

"I do not know if you do or not," Alette replied. "No one has ever called me fair, although my aunt once told me I was pretty enough."

"Did not your husband say how lovely you were?" He was astounded. How could Robert de Manneville look at Alette and not acknowledge her beauty, her sweet face, her gentle voice? She was pure perfection in Rolf's eyes.

"Robert married me for children. He was fond of saying all cats were alike in the dark," Alette said. She thought a long moment, and then shook her head. "Nay, he never said I was pretty, my lord."

"Lady, I have not a great deal but my position, which I owe to the kindness of my friend, Hugh, but I should like to court you," Rolf told the startled woman. "We are of an age, and not related by blood. I can see no impediment to it, can you?"

"My lord, you flatter me beyond all words, but you would but waste your time. I do not mean to wed again," Alette said softly. Her heart was beating rapidly, as if she were a young girl with her first suitor. Robert de Manneville had certainly never been so courteous in his pursuit of her. Rolf de Briard wanted to court her.

"Why will you not marry again, lady?" he questioned her.

"As a widow, my lord, I have far more personal freedom than I would as a wife. A wife, in my opinion, has little more liberty than a serf. My daughter has little respect for me. I believe her reluctance to take Sir Hugh as her husband stems from seeing my plight as her father's wife. A husband may beat his wife, mistreat her, flaunt his mistress in her face. All this she must accept without complaint. I have been happier than I have ever been in my entire life since my husband went on crusade. While I mourn his passing, for I am not an unfeeling woman, I rejoice in the fact that he will not return to hurt me ever again. He showed more kindness to his dogs than he ever did to me."

"I am not Robert de Manneville, lady," Rolf told her. "I should cherish you and love you all my days if you would one day accept me for your husband." Reaching out, he took her hand and, bringing it to his lips, kissed it. Then he turned her hand over, pressing his mouth hotly first against the inside of her wrist, and then her palm.

She shivered, and when their eyes met, Alette was almost overwhelmed by the look of deep passion in his brown eyes. She could not speak.

"Let me court you," he said, his voice low, personal, and very intense. "Let me show you that not all men are cruel and unkind, sweet lady. If when you have gotten to know me you are still of the same opinion you hold now, I shall endeavor to understand, but give me a chance to prove otherwise to you."

"You are most persuasive, sir," she replied breathlessly. She had never felt this way before. Robert had certainly never looked at her with such deep feeling in his eyes, and in his voice. When he had met her for the first time, he told her quite firmly that her uncle had given him permission to marry her. There had never been any talk of love. Of courting. He would condescend to take this orphan girl with her tiny dowry off her uncle's hands, and she would mother his children in return. It was a business arrangement, and nothing more.

"Will you let me be your knight, lady?" Rolf said softly.

"Perhaps a little while," she answered him, finally able to find her voice, "but, sir, I make you no promises."

"I understand," Rolf replied, his heart soaring. He would prove to Alette that not all men were cruel and thoughtless to their ladies. Eventually he would show her that he was worthy to be her husband. Had not that brute, Robert de Manneville, understood what a precious possession Alette was? He was a fool, then!

She rose from her seat. "It is late, sir," she said.

"I will escort you to your chamber, my lady," he replied, standing.

The hall emptied, but for Hugh and Isabelle, bent in serious concentration over their chessboard. While she had won the first game, it had been mainly because he had underestimated her skill. Her respect for him began to grow grudgingly when she realized that, and saw that he did not intend to allow her a second victory over him if he could possibly help it.

He was not like any man she had ever known. While she had loved her father, who was indulgent of her, she had hid her fear of him, for she was never certain if the swift violence he often exhibited toward her mother might not be turned upon her one day. In her secret heart Belle wondered if she would have been brave, or if she would have given way to fear, as Alette so often had before her husband. Robert de Manneville had been kind to his only daughter, but she had still been a child when he went away. Now she was almost relieved that he would never return.

Her brothers had been another matter. William, the elder, was ten years her senior. Though she would have never admitted it to her mother, Alette had been correct when she said he tolerated her only for their father's goodwill. On the rare occasions they had been alone, William enjoyed taunting his half sister with the fact that his mother was of far, far more noble birth than her mother. Yet Belle knew her mother's kin were of the nobility, and more than just respectable. He also mocked her for being bigger than other girls her age when petite was the ideal for women of breeding. "You are a carrot-topped calf who will one day grow into a carrot-topped cow," William liked to tell her. Fortunately, he spent most of his time in Normandy as he grew older, so she was spared his nastiness. She was quite delighted he would not return from his crusade, and even more so that he had left no wife or legitimate issue.

Richard de Manneville, the younger of her father's two sons, had been less hostile to his little sister. Six years her senior, he had spent more time than his elder sibling in the lady Alette's care. He had a mercurial temperament, unlike the stolid and snobbish William. Usually he was kind to Isabelle, but sometimes when there was no one about to see, he would lash out at her angrily, overwhelmed by jealousy that she would have Langston, and William, Manneville. There was not enough money to put him with the Church and assure him a position of importance. Richard de Manneville would have to make his way as a knight. He would have to earn his own prestige and fortune.

Such a fate did not appeal at all to Richard. Sometimes in his anger he would pinch his little sister where it would not show. His thin fingers were adept at rendering her black and blue. Belle quickly learned to defend herself from her brother, sometimes using her fists, sometimes kicking out at him. Such behavior never failed to amuse him. It would set him to laughing so hard that his rage swiftly dissolved. Isabelle could imagine Richard being absolutely delighted when his brother was killed in battle, leaving Manneville all to him.

And these were the only men of her own class that she had ever known, Belle thought. Oh, occasionally a noble visitor would pass through, requesting a night's lodging, but they would ride in late and depart early, leaving no visible impression upon her. For over four years she and her mother had lived alone at Langston except for the servants. For three of those years, since she was twelve, she had managed the estate without any help from anyone. She had been very frightened when the old steward died, but unless she wanted them to starve, or to have her serfs rebel or run away, she knew that she had to take charge and be strong. Any sign of weakness would have led to their ruin. Until the male peasants, serf and freed, understood she was lady of the estate in deed as well as fact, they would try to bully her.

Each day she would ride out, no matter the weather. She delegated authority where she could, but oversaw all with a very sharp eye. What she did not know about planting, threshing, and harvesting, she quickly learned from the women on the estate, who in defiance of their men wanted the lady to succeed. Belle even learned to prune the fruit trees herself. She was not afraid to alight from her horse to chase poultry into the barn in a sudden storm. She administered justice, turning a blind eye to the tenant who poached an occasional rabbit from her fields to feed his family; hanging the bully who had been previously warned, yet stepped boldly from her woods carrying the carcass of a dressed deer, which he then proceeded to try to sell for profit to her villagers. The family of the illegal hunter was fiercely driven from her estate, for Isabelle knew to allow them to remain would be but to court trouble. The people of Langston respected the lady, even if they did not all like her. If I had been a man, Isabelle thought bitterly, my actions would have never been considered unusual.

Now she was faced with Hugh Fauconier, knight. Heir to the last Saxon lord of Langston. Sent by a king she didn't even know, to take over not just her lands, but her person. Why, Isabelle wondered as she pondered her next move upon the chessboard, why had she never considered the possibility of a husband? Her father had never discussed the matter, although she realized that if he had not gone away, a betrothal would have been made and a marriage settled by now. Somehow in those years without him, she had become used to being her own mistress, and she liked it. She did not want to give over her authority to a husband. Langston was hers! She moved her knight piece, realizing even as she did it that it was a very bad move.

"Check," Hugh said quietly, taking her knight. Then, "Why did you make such a foolish move?"

"I had lost my concentration," she answered him honestly. "I was thinking of something else, my lord. You have won this game fairly, I think." She even gave him the tiny vestige of a smile.

"What were you thinking of?" he asked her.

"You," she said, surprising him.

"Me?" The sandy brows over his blue eyes rose questioningly.

"I know that you are not to blame, my lord, but I do not think it fair the king take Langston from me," Isabelle said. "I know I am only a woman, but I have kept my lands peaceful and prosperous."