Read Online A Love For All Seasons by Denise Domning - Free Book Online
Authors: Denise Domning
Tags: Romance
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nothing to Papa about how she'd helped. Freedom from Brother Mathias was within reach.
Set in the small area between the rear wall of the house, the stable, and the apothecary shop's back yard, her father's kitchen was hexagonal in shape. Johanna blinked as she stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness within the room. Smoke from the ever-burning fire on the kitchen's central hearth flowed upward, drawn out through a shielded vent at the apex of the shed's thatched roof. A great pot, its bottom blackened by constant use, hung over the flames on its ratcheted chain. Thick bunches of herbs dangled from the crisscrossing rafters overhead, while stoppered containers of hardened leather, some so big she could barely put her arms around them, stood on shelf and floor. Wedged between casks of oil and wine were sacks of shelled almonds, while the morrow's fish swam hopelessly in a broad, lined barrel at the far wall.
At his worktable with knife in hand, Old Philip looked up from the cubes he was making of yesterday's bread. Small and wiry, the cook's hair lay flat against his skull beneath his cap, his skin slick with a day's worth of sweat. "And who do you seek to heal at my hearth this day?" he called to Helewise as she and Aleric followed Johanna into the room.
"Not Helewise," Johanna responded before the housekeeper could speak, "me. Papa sent me a lad to heal." With her words came a strange sense of ownership. Papa had given this lad to her, trusting she would care for him as she ought.
"Is that so?" Philip replied, his grizzled brows lifting in tune to his question.
Philip's son, Tom the Lackwit, looked up from scouring the remains of lamb stew from a tureen. Although only a little younger than Katel, Tom's round face was yet childlike. His bottom lip hung slack as he watched Aleric bear the lad into the room. "Hurt," he said after a moment.
"Aye, Tom," Johanna replied. "I'll be needing one of your cleaning cloths and hot water to wash him."
Tom hesitated, pondering this unusual command coming from an even more unusual source, then nodded and trundled past the hearth to do her bidding. Pleasure shot through Johanna. Now, this was how life should be, she the mistress, while others did as she commanded.
When the makeshift bed was ready, Tom set the basin at its head, and Aleric lowered the unconscious boy to the pallet. The lad freed a muffled cry then lay still. Kneeling at his side, Johanna began to wrestle his filthy, bloodstained tunic from him. It caught on his arms and would not move. The lad moaned as her efforts made his head joggle against his hard bed.
Helewise knelt beside her to cup the boy's skull in her hand. "Shall I bathe him for you?" she asked quietly as she lifted Johanna's patient a little so his tunic could be eased over his head.
"Nay," Johanna said, grunting against the effort it took to remove clothing from an unresponsive body. "Papa has made this boy mine, and I must do for him."
"Why, Johanna of Stanrudde, you surprise me. Even as I watch, the babe in you is being replaced by a sober woman."
The pride in Helewise's voice made Johanna's heart glow. Her lips tried to curve into a smile, but she kept her mouth tight in an expression appropriate to the mistress of the house. Aye, she would show Papa she was of more use to him as a housewife than a scholar.
Stanrudde
Late May, 1173
There was a fire burning behind Rob. Although the hiss and crackle was comforting, he lay too close. Even nude with but a single blanket atop him, sweat trickled down his back. If he moved, he'd lose the final tendrils of the dream he'd been having about Mama and Blacklea.
Something brushed against his face. Rob clenched his eyes shut, drawing a breath to keep from reacting to the tickle of it. The air around him smelled of day-old fish. There was an awful lump covered with prickly fabric beneath his cheek. Grimacing in discomfort, he shifted his head until it no longer troubled him.
Again, that
Set in the small area between the rear wall of the house, the stable, and the apothecary shop's back yard, her father's kitchen was hexagonal in shape. Johanna blinked as she stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness within the room. Smoke from the ever-burning fire on the kitchen's central hearth flowed upward, drawn out through a shielded vent at the apex of the shed's thatched roof. A great pot, its bottom blackened by constant use, hung over the flames on its ratcheted chain. Thick bunches of herbs dangled from the crisscrossing rafters overhead, while stoppered containers of hardened leather, some so big she could barely put her arms around them, stood on shelf and floor. Wedged between casks of oil and wine were sacks of shelled almonds, while the morrow's fish swam hopelessly in a broad, lined barrel at the far wall.
At his worktable with knife in hand, Old Philip looked up from the cubes he was making of yesterday's bread. Small and wiry, the cook's hair lay flat against his skull beneath his cap, his skin slick with a day's worth of sweat. "And who do you seek to heal at my hearth this day?" he called to Helewise as she and Aleric followed Johanna into the room.
"Not Helewise," Johanna responded before the housekeeper could speak, "me. Papa sent me a lad to heal." With her words came a strange sense of ownership. Papa had given this lad to her, trusting she would care for him as she ought.
"Is that so?" Philip replied, his grizzled brows lifting in tune to his question.
Philip's son, Tom the Lackwit, looked up from scouring the remains of lamb stew from a tureen. Although only a little younger than Katel, Tom's round face was yet childlike. His bottom lip hung slack as he watched Aleric bear the lad into the room. "Hurt," he said after a moment.
"Aye, Tom," Johanna replied. "I'll be needing one of your cleaning cloths and hot water to wash him."
Tom hesitated, pondering this unusual command coming from an even more unusual source, then nodded and trundled past the hearth to do her bidding. Pleasure shot through Johanna. Now, this was how life should be, she the mistress, while others did as she commanded.
When the makeshift bed was ready, Tom set the basin at its head, and Aleric lowered the unconscious boy to the pallet. The lad freed a muffled cry then lay still. Kneeling at his side, Johanna began to wrestle his filthy, bloodstained tunic from him. It caught on his arms and would not move. The lad moaned as her efforts made his head joggle against his hard bed.
Helewise knelt beside her to cup the boy's skull in her hand. "Shall I bathe him for you?" she asked quietly as she lifted Johanna's patient a little so his tunic could be eased over his head.
"Nay," Johanna said, grunting against the effort it took to remove clothing from an unresponsive body. "Papa has made this boy mine, and I must do for him."
"Why, Johanna of Stanrudde, you surprise me. Even as I watch, the babe in you is being replaced by a sober woman."
The pride in Helewise's voice made Johanna's heart glow. Her lips tried to curve into a smile, but she kept her mouth tight in an expression appropriate to the mistress of the house. Aye, she would show Papa she was of more use to him as a housewife than a scholar.
Stanrudde
Late May, 1173
There was a fire burning behind Rob. Although the hiss and crackle was comforting, he lay too close. Even nude with but a single blanket atop him, sweat trickled down his back. If he moved, he'd lose the final tendrils of the dream he'd been having about Mama and Blacklea.
Something brushed against his face. Rob clenched his eyes shut, drawing a breath to keep from reacting to the tickle of it. The air around him smelled of day-old fish. There was an awful lump covered with prickly fabric beneath his cheek. Grimacing in discomfort, he shifted his head until it no longer troubled him.
Again, that
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