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Authors: Barbara Samuel
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Isobel had worked herself into a fine state. "'Tis true. Can you deny it, you flirted and tittered, keeping him there at your side all evening?"
"Enough!" Lyssa shouted. "Leave me. Now."
With a gleam of triumph, Isobel flung the spinning aside and left.
The others were silent, and Lyssa could think of no word to dispel the mood, not in her present state. She could feel the color in her cheeks, in her ears, in the tingling flush of humiliation as she bent back over the loom. Snippets of the evening came back to her, fueling the heat: her gaze sliding over his legs, her breathlessness and blush when he flirted with her.
Oh, she was a fool! If Isobel had seen it, no doubt Lord Thomas had seen it, too.
"Can it be," Mary asked softly, "that our mistress has at last seen a man who captures her eye?"
"Nay," Lyssa said strongly. "Isobel! only wishes the creature herself."
A bawdy laugh rumbled out from Alice. "And what woman would not?" She laughed again and she clapped a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Our own Tall Mary has tales of that, I warrant."
Mary hissed something below her breath at Alice, and forgetting her own humiliation, Lyssa looked up. "Is that so?" She smiled, ready to tease a little of her own. "Can it be our Mary has been smitten, instead?"
She was unprepared for the virulent hatred that flashed in Mary's eyes before she covered it. "What use has a knight for a peasant maid? Amusement he has at the ready, like they all do."
So Thomas had. like all men, availed himself of the village maids. "Did they go willingly? I'll not have a rapist under my roof."
"Nay!" Alice protested. "I've known Lord Thomas since he was a wee lad. and he has no wish to harm. If any maid lay with him, she went to him of her own wish."
"They went all willing, my lady." Tall Mary stood, her eyes averted. "Forgive me, but I have remembered I promised to help my mother wash."
"Oh, do not go," Lyssa protested, reaching for her hand. "It was only a jest. We'll talk of other things."
Mary allowed her hand to be clasped, but she did not soften. "'Tis nothing here—I promised my mother."
Forgetting the others, Lyssa looked earnestly at her friend. She had missed her. "Please, Mary. I would not for the world allow a man to ruin the peace of my friendships."
At last Mary raised her eyes. "Then you have not known him long enough, my lady." She pulled free. "I must go."
Once again, a dull silence fell into the room. After a moment, Nurse took up her humming, and it eased a little of the knot in Lyssa's chest.
She took a breath and let it go. "My mother told me there would be a day when, no matter how I loved Mary, no matter that we'd been like sisters all our childhood, that the gap between us would be too wide to cross." Without knowing why, she looked to Alice for comfort. "It seems that day has come."
Alice let her hands fall to her lap. "They are both jealous, my lady, if you do not mind me saying. Mary cannot be a lady as she wishes, and Isobel is only a foolish girl who needs a thorough bedding."
Surprised, Lyssa laughed. "I had not thought of it quite that way."
"Perhaps you've not been thoroughly enough bedded yourself, my lady." Her smile was friendly, making the comment bawdy, without offense. "And you cannot see Lord Thomas is virile as a stallion."
"I think not of such things."
"So I've seen." Alice picked up her sewing.
"Maybe you ought," Nurse added.
Lyssa picked up the shuttle. "And be snarled in the storms of the heart, like those we just witnessed? I do not wish such turmoil."
Alice only made a soft sound that could have been agreement or not.
It seemed they would let the subject go, and Lyssa let go of a sigh, trying to reclaim the lost sense of peace she'd felt only moments ago. In the companionable silence, Nurse began to sing a ballad softly, and Alice sewed, and Lyssa wove, and at last the sense of peace came back. The gentle quiet of women working, with the colors of the loom and the feel of the threads, and
"Enough!" Lyssa shouted. "Leave me. Now."
With a gleam of triumph, Isobel flung the spinning aside and left.
The others were silent, and Lyssa could think of no word to dispel the mood, not in her present state. She could feel the color in her cheeks, in her ears, in the tingling flush of humiliation as she bent back over the loom. Snippets of the evening came back to her, fueling the heat: her gaze sliding over his legs, her breathlessness and blush when he flirted with her.
Oh, she was a fool! If Isobel had seen it, no doubt Lord Thomas had seen it, too.
"Can it be," Mary asked softly, "that our mistress has at last seen a man who captures her eye?"
"Nay," Lyssa said strongly. "Isobel! only wishes the creature herself."
A bawdy laugh rumbled out from Alice. "And what woman would not?" She laughed again and she clapped a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Our own Tall Mary has tales of that, I warrant."
Mary hissed something below her breath at Alice, and forgetting her own humiliation, Lyssa looked up. "Is that so?" She smiled, ready to tease a little of her own. "Can it be our Mary has been smitten, instead?"
She was unprepared for the virulent hatred that flashed in Mary's eyes before she covered it. "What use has a knight for a peasant maid? Amusement he has at the ready, like they all do."
So Thomas had. like all men, availed himself of the village maids. "Did they go willingly? I'll not have a rapist under my roof."
"Nay!" Alice protested. "I've known Lord Thomas since he was a wee lad. and he has no wish to harm. If any maid lay with him, she went to him of her own wish."
"They went all willing, my lady." Tall Mary stood, her eyes averted. "Forgive me, but I have remembered I promised to help my mother wash."
"Oh, do not go," Lyssa protested, reaching for her hand. "It was only a jest. We'll talk of other things."
Mary allowed her hand to be clasped, but she did not soften. "'Tis nothing here—I promised my mother."
Forgetting the others, Lyssa looked earnestly at her friend. She had missed her. "Please, Mary. I would not for the world allow a man to ruin the peace of my friendships."
At last Mary raised her eyes. "Then you have not known him long enough, my lady." She pulled free. "I must go."
Once again, a dull silence fell into the room. After a moment, Nurse took up her humming, and it eased a little of the knot in Lyssa's chest.
She took a breath and let it go. "My mother told me there would be a day when, no matter how I loved Mary, no matter that we'd been like sisters all our childhood, that the gap between us would be too wide to cross." Without knowing why, she looked to Alice for comfort. "It seems that day has come."
Alice let her hands fall to her lap. "They are both jealous, my lady, if you do not mind me saying. Mary cannot be a lady as she wishes, and Isobel is only a foolish girl who needs a thorough bedding."
Surprised, Lyssa laughed. "I had not thought of it quite that way."
"Perhaps you've not been thoroughly enough bedded yourself, my lady." Her smile was friendly, making the comment bawdy, without offense. "And you cannot see Lord Thomas is virile as a stallion."
"I think not of such things."
"So I've seen." Alice picked up her sewing.
"Maybe you ought," Nurse added.
Lyssa picked up the shuttle. "And be snarled in the storms of the heart, like those we just witnessed? I do not wish such turmoil."
Alice only made a soft sound that could have been agreement or not.
It seemed they would let the subject go, and Lyssa let go of a sigh, trying to reclaim the lost sense of peace she'd felt only moments ago. In the companionable silence, Nurse began to sing a ballad softly, and Alice sewed, and Lyssa wove, and at last the sense of peace came back. The gentle quiet of women working, with the colors of the loom and the feel of the threads, and
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