Free The Love Knot by Elizabeth Chadwick

whatever the day held.
     

    'You can have these,' said Countess Mabile. She had been rummaging in the depths of an oak coffer and now emerged with a length of unbleached linen and another of sage-green wool. 'You're neither tall nor buxom. There should be enough for an under gown and dress.'
    'Thank you, my lady.' Catrin took the fabric with gratitude. The wool in particular was of excellent quality and, despite Mabile's words, there was plenty to make a dress and probably enough for some panels in the sides and modest hanging sleeves. All she had to do was cut and sew them - and as quickly as possible, given the state of her current garments. She had discarded the tawny overgown because it was just too stained and obnoxious to be seen in polite company. Her blue-green undertunic clung flatteringly to her figure, but there was a large patch near one of the seams where moths had caused damage, and a couple of burn marks on the skirt from leaping embers.
    The Countess looked her up and down. 'You'll need something for now as well,' she said, and went to plunder another coffer. It was her own personal one and more ornately carved and inlaid than the other. Her face was animated, a pink flush to her cheeks. Catrin could see that Mabile was enjoying herself greatly making a silk purse from a sow's ear.
    'I'm sure one of my daughter's old gowns is in here. She left it after a visit - she was pregnant at the time and it wouldn't fit her any more. Ah, here we are.' From the chest, she drew a dress of dark crimson wool. It was in the fitted style, tight to the waist, then flaring out to an almost circular hem. There was gold thread woven into the braid at cuff and throat and the matching waist-tie. Catrin had never seen a gown so fine, and stared in disbelief as the Countess handed it to her.
    'My lady, I cannot!' she gasped, feeling overawed.
    'Don't be foolish,' Mabile snapped. 'It's lain here for three years as it is. If it stays any longer, the moths will make use of it beyond repair. Put it on and let me hear no more.' She thrust it into Catrin's arms and turned back to the coffer. There's a wimple in here somewhere that should suit.'
    Speechless with gratitude, Catrin donned the red gown. The sleeves and hem were slightly too long, but otherwise it was a good fit, and the colour was a perfect foil for her black hair and hazel-green eyes.
    'Catrin, you look beautiful!' Edon FitzMar circled her, twitching the gown into place. 'You'll have all the knights falling over each other to share your trencher in the hall!'
    Catrin pulled a face. 'Reason enough to take it off this instant,' she said, but really she was pleased, her confidence buoyed by the luxury of the new garment and the admiration she saw in the other young woman's eyes. Nor did the cold envy in Rohese de Bayvel's disturb her, for it only served to confirm that the red dress must suit her.
    The Countess found a wimple of cream-coloured silk, edged with crimson embroidery, and secured it lightly over Catrin's braids with a brass circlet. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork. 'Much better,' she declared. 'Child, you are quite lovely.'
    Catrin reddened at the compliment. Fine feathers, it seemed, did make a fine bird.
    For the rest of the morning, she and Edon sat in a corner of the bower, cutting and sewing the linen and wool into new garments. Catrin did not want to parade about the keep in the red gown. It was too fine to wear except in the hall at night and on special occasions. Rohese did not offer to help with either the cutting or the sewing, and Catrin was glad, for it saved her the bother of refusing. She had a strong suspicion that given the opportunity, Rohese would have ruined the fabric in some way. Catrin resolved to keep her distance as much as she could.
    Edon proved a competent seamstress in her own right and was brisk with a needle. As she stitched, she asked tentative questions about Catrin's past. She was obviously curious, and just as obviously