Free Sanctuary of Roses by Colleen Gleason Page A

remain under the king’s protection.
    Still ignored by Mal Verne and his men, she
took the opportunity to study the tapestries that hung on the
walls, stretching to such a height that she had to strain her neck
in order to see the top of the images, and then to look around at
the people scurrying about their business. The rushes beneath her
feet rustled, and although she saw one mouse dashing away when his
slumber was disturbed, she noted that the keep seemed as well-kept
as the bailey and stone wall.
    Then, suddenly, she was aware that all were
staring at her. She looked at Mal Verne, whose voice speaking her
name had caused her to look up, and saw that he was giving her an
impatient look.
    “My lady, do you not wish for a bath and a
change of clothing before supper?”
    “Oh, aye,” she gave him a grateful smile,
and was rewarded as his stone-face seemed to falter for a
moment.
    Then, as if that flinch had not occurred,
Mal Verne gestured with a graceful hand to very short, very round
woman standing to one side. She had brilliant red hair pulled into
a tight braid, with a wide yellow-white streak from her left temple
along the length of the braid, which was wound into a bun. “Then
you and your maid may follow Peg abovestairs.”
    Peg was at least two score years and had a
motherly attitude that cloaked her like a comfortable cape. She
gave a brief curtsey and waved the women behind her.
    At the top of the stone steps was a balcony
over which Madelyne could look down and see into the hall, and she
paused for a short moment to do so. Then, gathering the skirt of
her habit, she hurried to catch up with Peg and Tricky.
    “My lady, this shall be your chamber whilst
you are here.” Peg threw open a door that led to a small but
well-appointed room. “My lord sent a messenger on to announce your
presence, an’ we all hastened to make ready for you, just as we did
the time his lordship’s cousin came to visit when the leaves were
ust turning gold and brown…or, alack, was it my lord’s mother’s
sister that time?…now I shall have to ask Robena on that, for I
fear my memory gets a bit slow now and again.” Her rambling
commentary was as welcome as the small fire that warmed the room,
chill even in the midst of summer, and the large wooden tub that
sat next to the hearth.
    Madelyne stepped into the room just in time
to avoid being sloshed by a pail of steaming water carried by a
serf. She stood back and watched as a line of servants brought more
and more pails, filling the tub, and leaving several more pails
filled with hot and cold water to adjust the temperature.
    Peg bustled over to the tub and, opening a
small jar, poured dried flowers and herbs into the water. Then, she
stood expectantly, her pudgy hands folded, and with a start,
Madelyne realized she was waiting to assist her in disrobing. “Oh,
nay, I do not—”
    “We shall help you to bathe, my lady,”
Patricka said firmly, nodding at Peg. ’Twas as though some private
message had passed between them, and before Madelyne could allow
her modesty to rule, they advanced upon her and began to assist her
out of her habit.
    “Lord Mal Verne sent some of Lady Mal
Verne’s clothing for you to wear,” Peg explained as Madelyne
stepped into the tub. “Packed as ’twere in those oaken trunks, I
shook out the wrinkles when I heard that you’d be in need of them.
’Twill be quite a relief from this plain gown and veil of yours, my
lady, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
    Madelyne did not know whether ’twas the
sudden heat of the water or the notion that Mal Verne was married
that caused her to gasp, but she ignored the sudden, inexplicable
sinking of her heart and lowered herself into the rose-scented
tub.
    She looked over at Peg, who was chatting on
as she showed Tricky several gowns of brilliant, jewel colors. At
the least, she thought wryly, Mal Verne provided well for his wife.
Even from her perch in the tub, she could tell the quality of the
cloth and