To The Castle. Joan Wolf

been the earl’s squire when he was a youngster and was now his steward, crossed the floor, a smile on his face. “My lord, how happy I am to see you safely returned.”

      “Thank you, it is good to be home.”

      Simon turned to Roger. “It is good to see you, also, my lord.”

      “How are you, Simon?” Roger returned. “How have your joints been holding up?”

      “I am well, my lord. The sore joints, well, God has seen fit to burden me thusly and I must live with it.”

      The earl said, “Has anything happened in my absence that I should know about?”

      “You received a missive from the Earl of Lincoln, my lord. It came last week. I knew you were coming home soon, so I didn’t try to send it on to you. Shall I get it for you?”

      “The Earl of Lincoln.” The earl glanced at his grandson. “I wonder what this can be about.”

      “Perhaps it’s something about the marriage,” Roger said.

      “Get the letter, Simon,” the earl said.

      “I have it in my own room, for safekeeping.” The man began to move stiffly in the direction of one of the towers and Roger and the earl fell into conversation.

      “The wedding must take place soon,” the earl said. “Everyone will want it done before the empress Mathilda and her half brother, Robert of Gloucester, land in England to take up arms against King Stephen.”

      Roger agreed with his grandfather, agreed that the marriage was a great coup for the family, and was faintly ashamed that the idea of it made him so nervous. He was more comfortable talking about the political situation. “If the empress and her troops can land,” he said. “Stephen is having all the major ports watched.”

      “England has too long a coastline to watch all the places where a ship might land,” the earl said. “They will make the crossing from Normandy and land somewhere that Stephen isn’t watching. Then they will make their way to Bristol, which is Robert’s stronghold. From there they will send out their summons to those they hope will support them.”

      “Who do you think will answer that call, sir?”

      “Brian fitz Count will probably join them, but most of the earls will play a waiting game. Men like Rannulf of Chester will want to see which side can offer him the most. They have no honor, men like that. They all swore an oath to uphold Stephen and now they are only looking out for themselves.”

      Didn’t you do that, Roger thought, when you forced the king to give the heiress of Lincoln to me in marriage to keep you loyal?

      But Roger would never say that to his grandfather.

      The earl was going on. “Rannulf of Chester owns a quarter of the kingdom already, and he will be looking to increase his holdings. He will be furious when he learns that Stephen is giving us the earldom of Lincoln. Rannulf was hoping the prize of Lincoln would go to his half brother, William of Roumare. William has a number of castles in Lincolnshire.”

      Roger said, “You are supporting Stephen because you think he will be the best king for England, isn’t that so, Grandfather?”

      “Certainly,” the earl replied. “Stephen is a man and a warrior and as direct a descendant of the Conqueror as Mathilda is. Mathilda may be the daughter of the old king, and Stephen just the nephew, but undoubtedly Stephen is the best man for England. The empress has never lived in England—the old king sent her to Germany to marry the emperor when she was a young child, and she has lived in Normandy ever since the emperor died. Her second husband, Geoffrey Plantagenet, is fighting for the rule of Normandy—he has little interest in England. It is Mathilda who wants England for her son.”

      At this point, Simon exited from the tower staircase and hurried toward them, a rolled piece of parchment in his hands. The earl gestured for him to give it to Roger.

      “My old eyes can’t see to read these days,” he said. “Read it to me, my boy.”

      Roger read aloud: “Greetings to the Earl of Wiltshire from his brother, the Earl of Lincoln. I bring you sad news. My daughter Sybilla went home to God on the third of June of this year.”

      My God, she’s dead! Shocked, Roger looked up from the letter and over to his grandfather.

      The earl glowered. “Hell and damnation,” he said. “This will spoil all our plans.”

      Roger shook his head as if to clear it, then looked back down at the paper. “There is more,” he said, and began to read again. “Fortunately, this tragic news will not force us to cancel our plans. My other daughter Eleanor will take Sybilla’s place. The marriage between Lincoln and Wiltshire can go forward as planned.”

      Roger looked up once more in bewilderment. “Another daughter? I thought the earl had only one.”

      His grandfather raised his thick gray brows. “So did I. I wonder where this Eleanor came from.”

      Roger felt a pang of uneasiness. There was something strange here. “Do you think there might be something the matter with her? That they kept her hidden for a reason?”

      “I don’t know,” the earl said. “But I’m damned glad they had an extra daughter! This marriage will be the making of our family. I would be loath to give it up.”

      Roger wasn’t listening. “I don’t want to marry someone who is not right in the head! Or is deformed!”

      The earl said crisply, “I don’t care what is wrong with this girl, you will marry her because it is your duty to your family. All you have to do is get children on her. You can continue to pursue your other interests—like the silversmith’s widow that you see in town. But marry the heiress to all of Lincoln you will.”

      “How do you know about Tordis?” Roger asked in surprise. “I never told you.”

      “I know everything,” the earl said complacently. “Knowledge is power, my boy. That is another thing for you to remember.

      “I will reply to Earl Raoul and tell him that we shall be happy to accept this other daughter,” he continued. “I will also suggest that we get the two of you wed as soon as possible.” The earl shuddered. “God, after all our careful plans, the whole scheme might have been lost because the girl died. How fortunate that they had this other daughter to bring forth.”

      Roger was having a hard time sharing his grandfather’s enthusiasm. The thought of wedding a girl who had something wrong with her repulsed him. “Yes,” he said glumly. “Very fortunate.”

      “Drink up, my boy, and don’t look so disheartened,” the earl recommended. “I married, like you, to advance the family, and the marriage turned out very well.”

      “What about my parents?” Roger asked. “Did my father marry for the sake of the family?”

      “Your father never did anything but thwart me in every way he possibly could. We won’t discuss him. You are the son of my heart, Roger. You are the child who will carry our name into the future.” The earl lifted his cup. “God bless you, my boy.”

      It was the usual dismissive reply Earl William gave whenever Roger asked about his father. After so many years of being rebuffed, he knew enough not to pursue the subject.

      Four

      The first thing Lady Alice did to reclaim her daughter was to give her a bath and wash her hair. Nell had never been so embarrassed in her life. In the convent they had worn bath sheets, which went over the head and covered the sides of the tub like a tent, so that they could not see themselves naked. Lady Alice scorned the bath sheet. She had the servants set the big wooden bathtub up in a splash of sunshine from the window, and she herself set to work on her daughter. It was as if she thought she could scour all the years in the convent away from Nell if she scrubbed hard enough. Her hair was