The Winter King by Alys Clare Page A

stretch of pine wood – an outlying patch of the Great Forest – and out of sight of anyone on the road going to or from Lord Benedict’s house, did Meggie pull up.
    She slid down from Daisy’s back and, taking hold of the reins of Sabin’s horse, looked up at her and said, ‘Get down. I want to know
exactly
what happened.’
    ‘But …’
    Meggie ignored the interruption. ‘Last night, you merely told me that you’d gone with the two canons to inspect the body, and you were very afraid you might have missed something that would be dangerously incriminating. I undertook to return with you to see if I would spot anything you’d missed.’ She felt resentment rising in her, dangerously close to anger. She took a breath, then said more calmly, ‘I have done what you asked of me. Now, before I reveal my conclusions – before I say another
word
– I want the whole story, from the beginning, if you please.’
    With a sigh, Sabin dismounted. She took her time over looping her horse’s reins round a branch, and Meggie guessed she was thinking how to begin. Finally, she squared her shoulders, looked Meggie full in the face and said, ‘She sent for me. Lady Richenza, that is; she’s Lord Benedict’s wife. She’s barely more than a child, Meggie, and yet they married her to that foul, fat old man.’ She paused, her face working as if she was trying to conquer strong emotion. Then she said, ‘She wanted me to give her something to stop her conceiving, and something else to render Lord Benedict impotent, and, God help me, I did.’
    Meggie absorbed the information. It was not exactly what she had expected to hear.
    ‘You’re shocked and horrified,’ Sabin burst out, as still Meggie did not speak. ‘I
knew
you would be, I shouldn’t have told you. I—’
    Meggie reached out and took her hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
    ‘I’m neither shocked nor horrified,’ she said. ‘I expect I’d have done the same thing myself. It’s very difficult to refuse such an appeal.’
    ‘Oh, it
is
!’ Sabin agreed fervently. ‘Meggie, she knew absolutely
nothing
about the mating process before she was wed to him – she told me she thought he was poking a stick into her to punish her for something!’
    ‘Yes, many high-born girls go ignorant to marriage,’ Meggie said.
    ‘It’s
wicked
!’ Sabin said passionately. ‘Have their mothers no compassion? No sense? Naturally, there’s no hope that a girl like Lady Richenza would have had the advantage of being able to observe animals in the farmyard or fields, or even creatures in the wild, as peasant-born girls do, but if their mothers only told them a little of what awaited them, then both the girls
and
their husbands would stand a far better chance of happiness!’
    ‘I agree,’ Meggie said mildly. She wondered what had made Sabin so forcefully angry on the subject.
Ask her
, she thought. ‘Were you a similarly ignorant bride?’
    ‘Me?’ Sabin gave a short laugh. ‘No. You forget, Meggie, I was long a healer before Gervase and I were wed, and when finally we found ourselves in our marriage bed, I was even more impatient that he was.’ A smile of reminiscence crossed her face. ‘You?’
    ‘I’m not married,’ Meggie reminded her. Sabin gave her a resigned look, and she grinned. ‘I was like your peasant girls, Sabin. I tended animals as soon as I could walk, and I grew up knowing full well what awaited me with the man of my choice.’
    ‘You have made your choice?’ Sabin asked. Meggie nodded. An image of Jehan swam before her eyes, his black hair loose around his dark-skinned, fine-featured face, the gold ring glinting in his ear. ‘And you had lovers before?’ Sabin persisted.
    Suddenly another face imposed itself on Jehan’s. This one wore an expression of wry amusement, and the brilliant blue eyes were so fiercely intent that it almost hurt. Out of Meggie’s memory came a vignette of that day, a year ago now, when she had stood in the clearing by St