Chasing Rose

IV: The Bride's First Impression

He is short.

I am not tall myself, but Lord Bennet's son is no taller than I , and stocky, too. He stands straight and strong, a strange look on his face.

Is he upset? Pray tell, what have I done to displease him so early?

He smiles though, and I realise that he had not noticed me. It is a cold smile, friendly but clearly not inviting. His eyes- too green to be hazel, too dark to be green- seem to be somewhere else. 

"Forgive me," he says with a bow. "I know you only as the daughter of Lord Mannering. Tell me your name."

I bow my head to him. "I am Ida Edivasdatter, my lord. And you must forgive me also, for you are only known to me as Lord Bennet's youngest son."

A rueful smile flashes across his lips. "I am Jacob Le- Attendre. I was not known to you as your betrothed?" He says it bitterly, unwillingly...

"Ay, you were. I simply did not wish to bring it up."

Jacob leans against the nearby window, still facing me. "You are a Saxon. You introduced yourself with a Saxon name. Yet, your Norman is perfect."

"Yes." Is it an issue? I have never introduced myself to anyone before. Should I have come up with a Norman name to use? Ida Front-de-Pierre perhaps, or Ida de Boisfort? "My mother was- is- a Saxon. My father is Norman. I speak both languages."

"You were permitted to learn Saxon, in a Norman's house?"

"My mother spoke it to me. I only learned Norman to communicate with those who wished to do business." Is this a difficult concept?

Does he not speak both? He is Norman through and through- perhaps he never thought Saxon was necessary.

"Wouldn't you be Ida Manneringsdatter, if you choose to have a Saxon name?"

"I have met my father but once." Does Jacob know that I am illegitimate?

"How?" He is fully invested in this. His back is straight and his brow furrowed.

"I cannot believe your father did not tell you- but he is so desperate to have you married that he chose the illegitimate daughter of a servant girl fourteen years of age and a minor lord. The first time I set eyes on him was earlier today when he told me to come here." Please, please let this not change this marriage. It may be my only chance at a well- lived life. 

"Oh. Well, I must ask you this: why did you agree to it?"

I shake my head. "He did not think to give me a choice. But my being  here means that my mother will always have enough to eat this winter, with it just being her in the hut. And I- I get the chance to have enough, too."

"You see this as a charity mission?" He is incredulous, skeptical, judgmental even.

I shake my head vigorously. "No, no sir. I apologize- I did not wish to offend you."

"Relax. It's my father's doing anyway, and you are right. I take no offense."

I let out my breath. "You do not seem too keen on the idea of me, anyway."

"What makes you think that?" I can tell that he's been caught. He knows it, too.

"You have been polite but cool this whole time. I cannot say I have acted differently."

He chuckles. "Neither of us are keen on it, I suppose. You see it as an escape from the cold life of a peasant, and I-" He pauses. "I simply- do not favour the- idea of being- forced into- into a marriage."

"Who does?"

"'Tis a valid point, Ida."

*****

The castle, at night, was incredibly quiet.

It had been just moments since a little Norman girl of about my age had taken the candle and shut the door. She had hardly spoken to me at all and had blue eyes that could not meet mine without tearing up.

But I could not settle and fall asleep- the bed was too large, too heavy. I had grown so accustomed to my straw pallet and scratchy wool that the fine weave and feather pillows seemed to smother me. I rose from the bed, donning my chemise, and walked to the door. I need to walk- it is what I did when I could not sleep at home.

The door did not make a sound as I opened it. My bare feet padded ever so softly on the stone, and I immediately started to feel better. To go outside would be foolish- it was raining and the doors were sure to be manned. No, I would simply take a small walk about the halls, only turning left so I could find my way back to my chamber by going right.

A door was ajar, with a candle's flame flickering behind it. I froze in my tracks and pressed myself against the wall. There were voices from behind the door- soft voices- and one of them was sobbing. It was a girl, I could tell that. Her hiccoughs were muffled, and by the shadows' movement I could tell she was being rocked to calm her. Her sobs must be muffled by her comforter's chest...

The back of her head came to view- rose gold and in a braid. I gasp. It was my Norman maid- and the arms around her were a young man's. I could not make out his voice, it was too muddled both from its quietness and from his speaking into her hair.

I inch closer, hardly breathing. 

"How long is she here?" says the girl, in shaky Norman. I still only see a sliver of their shadows, enough to see the man's head raise itself.

"She's here for a long time, Aelis." His voice seems familiar, but between all of the servants and the lord's sons, I cannot tell who it is. Yet I know the servant girl's name- Aelis.

"How long before the wedding, though? I am no fool, love, I know she is here for a long while."

"I did not take you a fool." The shadow leans down to kiss the other shadow's head. "The wedding will be a fortnight from now."

"How much can be done in a fortnight?" She seems so close to sobbing again.

"I do not know, love." Their shadows embrace. His voice becomes muffled again. "I do not know." 

It is now that I recognise the young man- as his face comes into a split-second view. His eyes are closed, but the dark hair, the straight nose- it is my betrothed, Jacob Le- Attendre.

I've forgotten to mention the year! It is 1112 AD- sixteen years after the First Crusade, which began in 1096. Although that is not totally crucial to the plot (crusade was mentioned, but there were freakin' nine of them. How could you know what I meant?) it does help to know.

Also, a lot of the environment is based off of Ivanhoe because that's set about eighty years later and many of the background things are still the same. The Normans don't like  the Saxons, the Saxons don't like the Normans, everyone's fighting, and they refuse to speak each other's languages. Woohoo.

(By the way, Aelis is pronounced EYE-lis. It's a very old French name that I love.)