Read Online The Winter Mantle by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Ads: Link
Judith was an excellent embroideress and as Adelaide had been keeping a close eye on her these past two months, much of the needlecraft was hers.
An unconscious curve to her lips, she worked upon the hair of one of the riders. It was long, unlike that of his companions who wore the shaven style of the Normans. She had outlined the man's beard in pale gold, and given him a gown of soft blue. The darker blue cloak flying from his shoulders showed a lining of white. At his side, a hawk perched on her wrist, rode a woman on a black mare.
'You like him, don't you? Agatha, Duke William's middle daughter, joined Judith at the embroidery bench and tipped a silver needle from a cylindrical ivory case. She was small and rosy with fine, fair hair and dainty little features - so dainty that Judith thought them like the sketch on this fabric - nothing without the added boldness of colour.
Judith did not pretend ignorance of Agatha's meaning. It was obvious to the most casual observer that the figure was Waltheof. 'He saved my life,' she said, 'I want to remember him… and yes, everyone likes him.'
Agatha poked among the threads, finally selecting a dark green. 'Not everyone,' she sniffed. 'Edwin says that he should never have been allowed out of the cloister.'
Judith took several swift, controlled stitches and suppressed the urge to slap her cousin. It was no secret that Agatha and Edwin of Mercia were conducting a courtship. William openly encouraged the couple to sit together in the hall of an evening, and he had dropped several heavy hints about a betrothal, but the deliberateness of the suggestions had led Judith to wonder. Her uncle was not usually so forthcoming with his designs.
'Edwin would say that,' she retorted. 'He does not want Waltheof claiming Northumbria from his brother.'
Agatha began to outline one of the horses with neat stitches, revealing that she too was an accomplished needlewoman. Her small, pink tongue peeped at the corner of her mouth. 'Waltheof is not strong enough to displace Morcar,' she said scornfully. 'He's untried and he knows naught of governance.'
'That does not mean he is incapable.' Judith objected, 'and he is the heir by blood.'
Agatha flushed. 'My father is content to let the house of Leofric keep its lands,' she said, her eyes suddenly glittering with malice. 'He will agree to my match with Edwin of Mercia long before he agrees to a match between you and Waltheof of Huntingdon.'
Judith returned Agatha's look without yielding. 'Your father desires to keep Edwin of Mercia dangling on his hook,' she said coldly. 'You would be foolish to read too much into his suggestions I think.'
'I am more than just bait on a hook,' Agatha preened. 'Edwin's well born. My father will give me in marriage to him.'
Judith said nothing but raised one eyebrow in a way that said Agatha was entitled to believe as she chose but was deluded.
'Anyway, Edwin said that Waltheof should have stayed in the cloister because he hasn't got the wit to be out in the world. He's a big, dumb ox.'
In and out went Judith's silver needle, stab and draw, stab and draw, filling in the marigold brightness of her horseman's hair. 'A dumb ox who can read and write and cipher,' she said quietly. 'A dumb ox whom our Norman courtiers like well, and who has proved his worth twice over. I have yet to see Edwin do more than pose in his fine clothes and show off.'
Agatha scowled. 'You won't be allowed to have him,' she said.
Judith shrugged as if she did not care. 'I may sew his image in an embroidery, but that does not mean I am ready to become his wife.'
'Are you not?' Agatha's gaze was hard and shrewd. 'I have heard it whispered that your mother keeps you closeted in the bower because you grew too familiar with him in Fècamp.'
Judith drew herself up. 'Then you must listen to whispers in some foul corners,' she snapped and set her needle aside, afraid that her anger would cause her to spoil her stitches. 'I have done nothing to cause
An unconscious curve to her lips, she worked upon the hair of one of the riders. It was long, unlike that of his companions who wore the shaven style of the Normans. She had outlined the man's beard in pale gold, and given him a gown of soft blue. The darker blue cloak flying from his shoulders showed a lining of white. At his side, a hawk perched on her wrist, rode a woman on a black mare.
'You like him, don't you? Agatha, Duke William's middle daughter, joined Judith at the embroidery bench and tipped a silver needle from a cylindrical ivory case. She was small and rosy with fine, fair hair and dainty little features - so dainty that Judith thought them like the sketch on this fabric - nothing without the added boldness of colour.
Judith did not pretend ignorance of Agatha's meaning. It was obvious to the most casual observer that the figure was Waltheof. 'He saved my life,' she said, 'I want to remember him… and yes, everyone likes him.'
Agatha poked among the threads, finally selecting a dark green. 'Not everyone,' she sniffed. 'Edwin says that he should never have been allowed out of the cloister.'
Judith took several swift, controlled stitches and suppressed the urge to slap her cousin. It was no secret that Agatha and Edwin of Mercia were conducting a courtship. William openly encouraged the couple to sit together in the hall of an evening, and he had dropped several heavy hints about a betrothal, but the deliberateness of the suggestions had led Judith to wonder. Her uncle was not usually so forthcoming with his designs.
'Edwin would say that,' she retorted. 'He does not want Waltheof claiming Northumbria from his brother.'
Agatha began to outline one of the horses with neat stitches, revealing that she too was an accomplished needlewoman. Her small, pink tongue peeped at the corner of her mouth. 'Waltheof is not strong enough to displace Morcar,' she said scornfully. 'He's untried and he knows naught of governance.'
'That does not mean he is incapable.' Judith objected, 'and he is the heir by blood.'
Agatha flushed. 'My father is content to let the house of Leofric keep its lands,' she said, her eyes suddenly glittering with malice. 'He will agree to my match with Edwin of Mercia long before he agrees to a match between you and Waltheof of Huntingdon.'
Judith returned Agatha's look without yielding. 'Your father desires to keep Edwin of Mercia dangling on his hook,' she said coldly. 'You would be foolish to read too much into his suggestions I think.'
'I am more than just bait on a hook,' Agatha preened. 'Edwin's well born. My father will give me in marriage to him.'
Judith said nothing but raised one eyebrow in a way that said Agatha was entitled to believe as she chose but was deluded.
'Anyway, Edwin said that Waltheof should have stayed in the cloister because he hasn't got the wit to be out in the world. He's a big, dumb ox.'
In and out went Judith's silver needle, stab and draw, stab and draw, filling in the marigold brightness of her horseman's hair. 'A dumb ox who can read and write and cipher,' she said quietly. 'A dumb ox whom our Norman courtiers like well, and who has proved his worth twice over. I have yet to see Edwin do more than pose in his fine clothes and show off.'
Agatha scowled. 'You won't be allowed to have him,' she said.
Judith shrugged as if she did not care. 'I may sew his image in an embroidery, but that does not mean I am ready to become his wife.'
'Are you not?' Agatha's gaze was hard and shrewd. 'I have heard it whispered that your mother keeps you closeted in the bower because you grew too familiar with him in Fècamp.'
Judith drew herself up. 'Then you must listen to whispers in some foul corners,' she snapped and set her needle aside, afraid that her anger would cause her to spoil her stitches. 'I have done nothing to cause
Similar Books
