Conquering William by Sarah Hegger

needed activity, something to keep his mind from the building anger within him. “I will rest when my men rest.”
    Alice took a soft breath, and nodded. “I will see that the serfs make up fresh pallets. The men will need them when they are done.”
    A small victory but it coiled within William and calmed the fire in his blood. His Alice would stand by him on this. From the keep entrance, Sister Julianna watched them through narrowed eyes.
    * * * *
    Bone-weary, Alice returned to the hall after she had changed her gown and confined her hair. A new mood sparked the air as she entered. Faces full of questions turned her way as she murmured her greeting in passing.
    Muted sounds drifted up the stairs from the bailey. Men’s voices, raised and then lowered, the crack of wood, and the low buzz of activity. William worked out there, beside the men and if she judged it right, the work would take all night. She did not visit the barracks, as Sister judged it unwise, but she had noted the condition of the men as they rode. Seen how they compared with Aonghas’s men, and if the barracks matched their residents, then she applauded William’s wisdom.
    Serving women carried out the meal and placed it on the tables, a testament to William’s kitchen foray. Great platters of meat appeared, bringing with them the hearty scent of venison. Alice dared not meet Sister’s eye, but she felt the rise of outrage battering against her as fresh breads and greens accompanied the meat. Where had Cook obtained fresh vegetables at this time of year? Later, she would ask Cook, but for now the tempting aromas set her tummy growling. Aspic jellies and blood puddings were added to the happy murmur of the hall. She had not eaten since they left The Crags. A quick bite of bread and cheese as they had rested the horses could hardly sustain a body.
    “Have the men outside been fed?” Alice called to Gord where he sat at the table nearest the dais.
    Gord cast a yearning gaze at the bounty set before him as he rose. “Nay, my lady.”
    “Would you see to it?” Commands coming from her mouth sounded odd. “Make sure they receive their share.”
    “They are working,” Sister said. “They will not have time for eating. Your husband has seen to that.”
    “William would want them fed.” Alice’s head reeled a bit at her own daring. Seldom had she countermanded Sister, and never before a gaping hall full of people. “If Tarnwych is to have an effective army, they must be cared for.” Nobody had told her this, but it stood to reason. “And on the morrow, Gord, would you put the seamstresses to work on new raiment for the men? We looked like beggars before Aonghas.”
    “Aye, my lady.” A slow smile of approval spread over Gord’s thin face.
    Alice drew courage from it and retuned his smile.
    “They have raiment.” Sister’s dry tone pricked at her pleasure.
    “They have rags,” she said, forcing her voice to remain firm. “We cannot send them out into the cold without adequate covering. Our Lord would not condone such dreadful cruelty.”
    “Sir William sent his squire for new horses,” Gord said. “But the men will need weapons, as well. I will call for the blacksmith when I go the village in the morn.”
    How had she not seen what a treasure she had in Gord? Perhaps because this was the first time she had actually commanded the man. “Perfect.”
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    The next day passed in a blur of activity for Alice. Gord made good on his instructions, and the keep hummed with new activity. She stood at the center of the mayhem, issuing further instructions, answering questions, and filled with a sense of purpose that made her never-ending list of tasks seem lighter. Serving maids gathered linens, stuffed pallets and pillows, and cut rushes for the barrack floors. Seamstresses pulled bolts of cloth from the stores and spread it over the trestle tables in the hall. Their chatter as they worked filled the austere place with life