Chapter 2: September 6, 1214

When Elizabeth awoke, the air she was breathing was distinctly chill. All the lamps had gone out in the tent in which she had spent her wedding night.

The tent fabric was slightly lighter than where she was in the bed. There was a fur as well as sheet and blanket over her and Karl. She was enclosed in his arms. Indeed one of his hands was holding her breast. She pushed against it, to no avail. It was like trying to lift a portcullis. His response to her attempt was a kiss between her shoulder blades.

"We will have visitors any minute," she warned him.

"Yes," he responded, "and they need to find us abed. By the way, wert thou gladdened by thy brother's presence?"

"Very much so." It was a rather dutiful response; she was thinking more of the coming inspection.

"He must have changed some from the boy who bedeviled thee when thou wert young."

"He was never like that," she answered. "He was six years older, after all, and seldom home after I turned eight. Margaret was closer to his age, and may have quarreled with him more often, but even she looked forward to his visits while he was a squire. Me, he would toss in the air until I screamed, but it was never real fright."

"Margaret?"

"My older sister. She died three years ago."

"My lord!" Karl's squire called from without.

"Let them in, Roger," Karl answered.

The crowd jostled in, stripped off the bedclothes, and looked at the spot of blood on the sheet. She thought that it was very small, but no one else commented.

"I'll freeze," she complained. It was much colder than it had been on the previous morning. Then too, everyone was dressed but the two of them.

"She's right," said Count Descries. "Let the Danclavens dress in peace." It sounded strange, but the count was right. She was a Danclaven now.

Mother had sent two servants with a change of clothing. Roger dressed Karl and they all went off to mass. It was longer than usual for a weekday, but not nearly so solemn as the marriage service. She knelt during the chanting and asked God to make her a good wife.

A crowd was waiting as they came out; one of the sergeants scattered coins among them crying "from the bride." Roger did the same, except he called "from the groom." One of Father's falconers brought Saebelin to her. Mother had explained that it just would not do to have her sparrowhawk on her wrist on her wedding day. She had not explained why it would not do, however; many of the guests had held theirs.

After breakfast, Karl did homage to Baron Guy for Festmauer, her dowry. "Well, my wife," he said after the ceremonies, "Festmauer is indeed ours. Dost thou think that Sir William would be a good castelan there?"

"Oh, my lord! Could he be?" She was going to live more than a hundred miles from her family. Her brother William, at least, would be closer. He would have business with his overlord, as well.

"Let's find if he has other plans," was all Karl's answer. She knew quite well that he didn't. He had been Father's castelan at Festmauer. He had enjoyed being in charge of his own domain, however small; and he had chafed at being back in his father's hall, however welcome he was. "Roger!"

"My lord."

"Be so good as to find Sir William, my lady wife's brother. Ask him to attend us in... " he looked at her. "Where would be a good open place to meet?" The rain had stopped, and he clearly had no desire to be within walls.

"The hayfield by the frog pool," she said. William would remember where that was.

"The hayfield by the frog pool," Roger repeated.

"And now," Karl said, "why not lead me there?" She took his finger in her right hand and led him onward. Saebelin, on her left wrist, wanted to be as far from Karl's great gyrfalcon as possible. It seemed less fear than a sense of inadequacy. Elizabeth could understand. She felt somewhat the same way about the falcon's master. He was so strong, so strange to her, and -- right now -- so silent.

Made anxious by his silence, she told him about the pool where the stream widened out and almost became a bog and the pleasure that the children had there hunting frogs. He seemed content to listen until their path led through a copse.

There he grasped her by her wrist and stopped her. "Do I talk overmuch?" she asked. He nodded, then pulled her to him for a deep, searching kiss. He reached under her cloak and pressed her to him with his hand on her back. Then he reached below her girdle to clench and unclench on her hip. She felt a fluttering in her belly and she felt hot in his embrace despite the weather. Oddly, her nipples hardened against her shift as if she were chilled through. He left her mouth to kiss her face and forehead. When he released her, she was not certain that she wanted him to do so. She took a deep breath, remembered where she was, and led him forward in silence. She was a matron now, and would learn to guard her words.

"And," he asked a minute further along the trail, "did any of you ever actually catch frogs?"

"William did once, and Margaret found one which must have been injured ... I thought that thou didst not want me talking."

He pulled her to him again. "I thought..." the kiss was light on her lips... "that there were more..." this kiss was longer and firmer against her mouth... "pressing?..." he kissed her deeply this time, and licking her lips open before continuing -- he was holding her so that her side was pressed against his front. "Yes, there were more pressing needs for those lovely lips..." He kissed her lightly again, " ... and tongue."

His tongue entered her mouth and pressed upon hers. There were new sensations enough in that to fully occupy her mind for the morning. She couldn't give the sensations from his tongue their due, however, because his hand was arousing other sensations throughout her body. It passed upwards from her waist to her breast. She suddenly needed the support of his body, but the pressure was not only against his muscled chest and thigh. His organ was hard against her waist, and her girdle wasn't quite high enough to cushion all of its length. While her mind was engaged with the sensations from her body, her tongue had responded to invasion of her mouth by his. It was merrily licking and pressing against the invader. When his withdrew, she decided to follow. Her own hands, acting quite without her will, moved toward his broad chest until Saebelin objected. She sprang back at the bird's call.

"My lady's voice is sweet," he went on, "and like grazing cattle on fallow land, her words are a pleasant use of lips and tongue when they cannot fulfill their real purpose." She wrinkled her nose, not sure whether she liked the simile. "Come here," he said, "and then we should get on." She came into his arms again, but all he did was kiss her lightly on the nose.

She led him the rest of the way in silence. Her thoughts were on his kisses, and his hand, and her sensations. They were not seemly thoughts to share, even with him. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps matrons had more dignity because their thoughts were more often ones to keep to oneself.

William was waiting, on horseback, when they reached the field. He immediately dismounted. "Sir Karl?" he said in a neutral voice. He clearly had no idea why Karl wanted the meeting.

"My brother," Karl responded. They embraced. When they stepped back, William shot her a shrewd look. Once he knew that this wasn't a quarrel, he seemed to guess why they had taken so long on the path. She could feel herself blushing.

"My lady wife and I have a problem," Karl began, "whose solution may lie in thy hand. When first I began courting thy sister, I expected us to live in Festmauer. Unfortunately, I lost my brother, Robert, at that cursed battle." William, who had been captured there, would curse Bouvines as well. "Now, I shall spend most of my time at Castle Clavius. I need a castelan at Festmauer. My lady suggested that thou mightest be that person. It is not the same as being castelan to thy father, I know. But we would be grateful if it could be done that way."

A castelan was almost an employee, albeit in charge of the castle. He didn't have any fief, any right to the land for his heirs or even for his own person. The liege who put a castelan in charge of a place expected to be able to remove him at will, although neither would attempt to replace the farrier or chief cook of the place without just cause.

A castelan who was also an heir was in an entirely different situation. Even if he were managing his sister's dowry, he was the master of the place in a much more definite fashion. Still, William had a future on this land; he could hardly hope to be enfiefed with a permanent stronghold elsewhere, even if the establishment of new strongholds were still common. Staying here was always a possibility; but the heir waiting in the place always seemed to be, and often was, waiting for his father to die or retire.

Then too, Karl was simply being courteous in his expression of his "problem." Any of the knights who accompanied him could hold Festmauer. William, who had become much less assured of his martial skill since his capture, saw that clearly. "My lord is too kind."

"Let us have the investiture after dinner, then," said Karl. "Our party leaves soon after. We will expect a long visit and full accounts at Castle Clavius after Michaelmas.

"I could ride with thy party this morning."

"And so thou couldst, but I am depriving thy father of one of his children already. Takest a day or two with thy family. The preparations for the wedding cannot have left much time for them and thee. Be a son this day and the next, thou wilt have time enough to be a brother."

"And, my lord," said William, "Elizabeth will be too busy being a wife to be a sister." Her face warmed at that.

"That is certainly my hope," said Karl. "In any case, thy sister and I will expect thee to attend us at Clavius and entertain us at Festmauer. Though, if thou art no better a hunter of stag than of frog, we will have little enough to eat there."

William shot her a look then which made her blush again. "I think my lord will find that my hunting skills have increased in the past twelve years."

"I do not doubt it. Do not blame Elizabeth for my jest, pray. For that matter, I am not at all sure that I could catch a frog even today. She and I might try it."

Taking the hint, William walked his horse to firmer ground and then he mounted. When he was gone, Karl turned back towards the copse. The walk back had even more delays than the walk towards the field. They were still on their way, indeed, when the horn sounded for dinner. Afterwards, William was invested as castelan; the ceremony was minor compared with a homage ceremony.

Their company was the fourth to leave. Her goodbyes from her parents and sister were long and tear-filled. She wept over Robert, but he seemed not to understand that she would be gone a long time. She felt almost as sad to leave her father's favorite brace of hounds, often her companions these last few years. But it would have been wrong to ask for them; they were her father's companions more. Her sister Maria's parting from Helga was far wetter than Maria's parting from Elizabeth, but Helga had always been Elizabeth's servant; Maria had Gertrude.

She took only five servants with her from her parents' home, and one of those was a farrier who only came because he was married to Helga. "There are servants aplenty at Castle Clavius," Karl had said. "Thou wilt need only the ones who will prevent thy feeling alone among strangers." Mother made sure, however, that she had a nice age mixture; she, herself, would only have chosen the old ones whom she knew best.

The company included Karl's sister Catherine, the sister's husband Frederick Baron Chataignier, one of the baron's knights, four knights from Clavius and one from Castle Dan, nine squires, ten sergeants and a chaplain. There were only twenty servants in all, besides hers. Of course, the sergeants could do any of the chores en route; while they were armed riders, they were of common birth and not above any work when a knight ordered it. As the squires served their knights, servants were barely needed.