Lady of Hay Barbara Erskine (reading books for 7 year olds TXT) 📖

commanded gently. He looked at Nick. "So now you know about the siege of Pains-castle. Your Matilda was a courageous lady, to hold the place until help came. She doesn't seem too tired. Shall we go on?"

Nick nodded. "Why not? She's not upset. "

"Does anyone else want to question her?" He glanced at Jim Paxman, who shook his head. "For now I am intrigued. Later, perhaps, I'd like to cross-question her further. " There was a pencil in his hand. "I'm making some notes of things I'll ask her. So far her detail is uncanny!"

"And accurate?" Sam's cold voice from the corner made them all glance round uncomfortably.

"I haven't faulted her on anything yet, " Jim replied cautiously. "But there is so much more there than I or anyone else could verify, even with the minutest study of the chronicles. No, Carl, please get her to carry on. I want to hear more of her family. And more of the campaign. Rhys didn't leave it at that, you know. No way. He went back!"

Carl nodded. He turned back to Jo. "Matilda, " he said softly. "Tell us what happened next. "

It was nearly dark. Matilda sat in the window trying to match some final stitches into her embroidery, in the private solar she used as her own in the castle of Hereford, where William was now the sheriff. Impatiently she selected a length of golden thread and squinted up against the last flaming gold of the western sky to try to thread it. The knock at the door made her bend the thread and she cursed under her breath. She had been treasuring the hour of silence alone in the upper room, with even her daughters and her women chased away, and she longed to prolong the moment if she could. Her head ached a little and her eyes were sore, but as long as she could still see to sew she had the excuse to remain alone.

The knock sounded again, more urgently, and this time the heavy handle turned. "My lady?" Elen put her head round the door.

"Elen, I told you I want to be alone. For a while, just until full dark. "

"I know, my lady. " Elen grinned unrepentantly. "But you've a visitor, see, and I thought it was time I lit the sconces and saw about sorting a few things in the garderobe here. And look at you, " she scolded suddenly. "Trying to work in the dark and ruining the sight of your eyes as you sit there, is it?" She pushed open the door and hurried across the room. Behind her, on the threshold, stood Richard de Clare. He was alone.

In spite of herself Matilda felt her heart give a lurch at the sight of him.

Seeing her, he bowed, his old grin unmistakable, lighting his face. He held out his hands.

Matilda glanced at Elen, who was fussing about with a lighted spill, going from sconce to sconce, but the woman kept her back ostentatiously turned and after a moment she disappeared behind the curtain into the garderobe.

"Richard!" She could hold back no longer. Her hands outstretched, Matilda ran to him and felt for a moment his strong arms around her, the touch of his lips on hers. Then gently, too soon, he was pushing her away with another light kiss on her forehead. "Oh, Richard, my dear, my love! It's been so long. "

"It has indeed. " He stood back, still holding her hands, and looked her up and down slowly, his eyes taking in every detail of her slender upright figure. Her hair seemed as burnished as ever beneath her headdress. His own, as he saw ruefully that she had noticed, was nearly white.

"Richard, what happened?" She reached to touch it with longing, wistful fingers.

He grinned. "Married life, sweetheart, and premature old age, combined with our East Anglian weather and the ministrations of your son. He is with me, by the way. "

Behind them Elen cleared her throat loudly before appearing in the doorway. "My lady, Sir William has finished with the sheriff court sessions for the day. His brother-in-law Adam Porter is here and he is with him at present, but I'm thinking he was about to come up here. " She was carrying an embroidered surcoat over her arm. "I'd best be here when he comes. "

Matilda glanced helplessly at Richard, who merely smiled and shrugged. "He never forgave you, you know, for supporting William Longchamp against Prince John, " she whispered. Then with her voice politely social again: "Are you pleased with Reginald? I was so glad when he became your esquire. You should have brought him up with you to see me, Richard. I suppose he's grown so large I'll not recognize him, like my other boys. " She sighed. "It's hard to think of myself as mother to so many enormous children, Richard. I don't feel old. "

He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "No one else would believe it either, sweetheart. Your waist isn't an inch wider than when I first saw you. Do you remember? Just after your wedding, when you came to Bramber and I saw you riding across the saltings with William. So tall and stiff you were on your horse, with your hair newly put up beneath your veil and wanting to tumble down again, like a maiden's. " He raised his hand gently to her temple and then almost guiltily let it fall. They had both heard the firm step on the stairs and they drew slightly apart.

William, when he appeared, was in jovial mood and seemed content to forget his political differences with Richard. He had never over the years by so much as a hint betrayed whether or not he had ever heard any of the rumors that she knew had abounded about her love for Richard, and now as always when she saw the two men together she could not help wondering, comparing, and guiltily moving