Ann of Cambray Read Online Free PDF Page A

pride would not let me mix with the other ladies of Sedgemont. Cambray’s lands lay to the west, and although they were not large, they were rich. Not in farmland as here, but in sheep and horses and cattle. The moneys and goods from those lands were to follow me here to Sedgemont to provide a retinue of men and women to serve me. When we had first arrived, I had paid scant attention how we were bestowed or how Sir Brian intended to deal with my household. I was young, of course, but I knew the men who came with me from Cambray as friends. When malaise or grief or sickness finally left, already some things had changed without my knowledge or consent. I have explained how Lord Raoul had taken my small guard with him; well, it was his right, he being overlord, but I grieved at not having had chance to bid farewell, not even to those older men I had known all my life. I remember some of them to this day, who would have followed my father or my brother to the world’s end, who went with Lord Raoul because he ordered it and never came back again to Cambray. But even had they stayed behind with me at Sedgemont, I could not have kept them. For the road to Cambray was long and wearisome at the best of times. Now it was shut off; messengers and supplies came fitfully, if at all. And finally, one day, they came no more. The way was choked, they said; paths overgrown, the forests filled with outlaws or refugees, villages robbed and pillaged by ruthless men. And so, if the sacks of wool did not pass, nor the casks of mead, the hide and meat, then I, proud Ann, had no resources of my own, no moneys with which to pay my household wants, not even the wherewithal to supply my own needs, and must live upon the charity of Lord Raoul in every sense of the word. And that, too, rankled deep.
    But by then I was older, able to give some thought to what should be done. For I would not go to Lord Raoul’s Hall or to his chatelaine, and although perforce must I live within his keep, I would take as little from him as I could. Therefore, despite Gwendyth’s pleading, I sought for ways to make ourselves independent. ‘For if they hold me at such little worth,’ I said, ‘then have I no dealing with them. “Like a beast” quoth he. Then shall we live, like animals in the forest who do hunt for what they have, since fate has left us here quite alone. One day they shall find out that to be Celt is no mean thing. And if I have not the wealth to buy fine gowns, yet glad I am not like those braying fools who mince and smile preen to make the men stare at them so. Our priest at Cambray said that fine clothes do not make fine hearts. I had rather dress in rags than be so low as to fawn on him because he is lord here.’ So I spoke in my pique, casting scorn on them all. And gradually I slid into a pattern of living, which, although free, was certainly not fitting, as you shall hear.
    You would not recognise the way we lived. I scarce recognised it myself. Cut off from the others in the castle, I mean those who by birth and breeding should have been my friends, I wrought a way of life for Gwendyth and me, nevertheless. The size of Sedgemont helped in this. Within its walls there were many places we could go, many things we could do, without bringing attention to ourselves. There was none left to call me by title except Gwendyth. I made my companions now among the serfs and scullions and the men-at-arms. The great courtyard became as familiar to me as the one at Cambray. I grew up at the tail end of the castle world, as free and untrammelled as the wind. Ask me now, who years and events have trapped, how it was when I was a young girl at Sedgemont. I will not tell you all I remember, for nostalgia, but I will say that many things I believe and feel come from what I learned then. For those who say I do not think as others do speak more truthfully than they guess. I have known no stouter friends, no