Free Fires of Winter by Roberta Gellis Page A

I learned that listening to a priest who had come to propose a match for me with a neighbor well into his fifth decade, who still had no heir to his lands. This was just before I had begun my thirteenth year, and the priest’s statement of the law was his reply to Papa’s protest that I was too young. In fact, I am sure Papa was not thinking of my actual age—I was always his “little baby girl,” even long after I had topped the height of most of the common men—but it drew forth a lecture from the priest on the nature and duty of females. This so angered Papa (not that he thought better of women in general but because I was the subject) that he roared, “I have said my daughter is too young, and Church or no Church I am the master of my daughter’s life.”
    That fat slug of a priest, who had been eyeing me in such a way that I guessed who he intended should father our neighbor’s heir, was terrified by Papa’s rage. He began to stammer compliments about how good a father Papa was and to assure him that the purpose of the Church in fixing the age for marriage at twelve was to protect daughters of less kindly and considerate fathers from being married off at nine and ten, or even three and four, not to force marriages. At that point, Mama, who did not believe in giving unnecessary offense or allowing anyone to realize how much value my father set on me, pointed out that she was not well and I was needed at Ulle.
    There had been offers after that too, but my mother was dead by then and I was needed at Ulle. I suppose my father could have married again—had he done so I would have managed to induce him to find a husband for me. Once Ulle came under my sole rule and I had fitted my shoulders comfortably under that burden, I do not believe I could have tolerated any woman in authority over me. Even at fourteen or fifteen I was too much mistress to become maid again. But Papa showed no interest in marriage for himself—not even after my brothers died. At the time I did not think about it, but now I wonder if he could have cared more for my mother than I believed. For my own part, I was content as mistress of Ulle and more relieved than sorry that Papa did no more than say he had turned a suitor away or, more often, did not mention the offers to me at all.
    After Magnus married Winifred, however, I noticed that Papa began to talk about my marriage again, always with excuses for his delay in arranging for it. I knew he did not want to part with me but felt guilty about depriving me of my right to be a wife and mother. I could have soothed him with a few words, assuring him that I did not wish to marry, but…I was not sure. When I saw what was between Donald and Mildred, I could not help longing to taste that enchantment for myself; and when I saw Winifred’s pride and contentment, I could not help wondering if something very important was not missing from my life. And so, when my father mentioned marriage to me, it was that I thought of rather than the effect Stephen’s crowning would have. How could I have guessed that the one would make the other?
    Not immediately, of course, although neither did life move on unchanged. Sir Gerald had brought the news about Stephen after Epiphany. Too soon after, a royal messenger demanded entrance at the gate of Ulle manor—but the messenger was from King David, not from King Stephen. The man gave us news first: that Carlisle had yielded to David in the name of Empress Matilda; then he said that King David desired Papa’s pledge to support King Henry’s daughter against the usurper Stephen in her rightful claim to the throne of England. Papa would have given his word then and there, but Magnus signalled urgently to me, and I went forward and drew the messenger away, cooing of women’s concerns—that the man was cold and tired, that he must be warmed and fed.
    Instead of taking him to the guest house and seeing to