Free The Holding - Book 1 in The Medieval Knights Series by Claudia Dain Page A

is old enough to marry at ten and eight years, she has no parent or relative to hinder her union with you..."
    "And the third requisite? Does she give her free consent to this marriage?"
    Godfrey nodded readily, hoping to cool William's anxiety. "Yea, she has spoken her consent freely. The marriage is valid."
    That, at least, set William's mind at rest, if only for the moment. The Church stipulated that unless a woman on the brink of marriage answered all three questions with the right answers, the marriage would not occur. It was a worthy attempt at preventing a young maid from being forced into a marriage not of her liking. But still, Father Godfrey was radiating waves of tension.
    "Yet something regarding her troubles you. Father." Striking with blind accuracy, William asked, "Is it the girl's bedding?"
    Father Godfrey jumped as if struck and looked at William with wide eyes.
    William only laughed lightly and patted his old friend on the arm.
    "Worry not, Father. I shall be gentle with her. Lady Cathryn shall not receive rough handling from me."
    Godfrey pounced on those words as a hunting hound on a hare.
    "Woman is the weaker vessel, William; I am heartened that you remember it."
    William turned upon hearing those words to find that Cathryn had risen and was making her way to the stair. The time for retiring had come. Her servants—nay, his now—made way for her, their eyes never leaving her. With measured step and head held high, she left the hall, her bliaut a heavy white wake rippling behind her. William had no desire to argue with Father Godfrey, but he thought his wife as weak as iron.
    * * *
    Cathryn brushed aside the drape concealing the door and entered the lord's chamber. The bed had been hung in cadis edged with silk banding of scarlet, amaranth, and aureate since she had last seen it. It was a bed that spoke eloquently of housing a wealthy lord. It was a bed to keep the warmth of fire and body. It was finer now than when her mother and father had lain in it. Marie, who had been waiting nervously for her since the beginning of the last meal of the day, hurried over and began to help her disrobe. There was enough daylight left that no candles were yet needed, but just barely. The sun sent its rays upward to slice through the bare treetops across the river, creating a pattern on the rough ceiling of the room. Dusk was approaching and subduing the harsh contours of the sleeping land and bleeding all color until every tree and bush and hillock was masked in murky gray. With full dark would come the bridal bedding.
    "He has dressed the bed," Cathryn said.
    "Aye, his squire was sent to see to it," Marie remarked. "What color is that called, that one that is more blooded than violet?"
    "It is called amaranth," Cathryn answered.
    "Lord William has noble tastes."
    "Lord William has rich tastes," Cathryn corrected.
    "Did he send you up?" Marie whispered sympathetically.
    "Nay, he did not," Cathryn answered bluntly, then added wryly, "but I could read him easily enough."
    "Ah, lady," Marie said with poorly sheathed pity, "it is this moment that I have feared since we first heard of this arranged marriage. Your bravery has left me breathless and terrified, for though the day brought the marriage, the night brings the marriage bed."
    It may have been the large quantity of wine she had drunk with her scanty meal, or it may have been the tattered fingers of sunlight retreating across the room, but Cathryn could not listen to any more of Marie's well-meaning murmurs of sympathy. Her nerves were strung as tight as lute strings; now she needed the strength of calm reserve more than ever on this long day. It would not do. She must get Marie to speak of something else but the coming bedding.
    "'Tis not bravery to obey a king, Marie, and that is all I have done. But tell me—I trust you have spent some of your time this day prowling the shadows. Do you know how William le Brouillard came by his name?"
    If it had been Marie's