Great Maria Read Online Free PDF

again. They sat in the warmth of the fire, not talking, until the fire died and they got up and went to bed.
    ***
    The same Saracens who had ambushed them burned a village just north of her valley, and Richard and her father raced off to their revenge. Maria and the other women spent the morning washing and spreading the laundry out on the grass to dry. Sick to her stomach, Maria ate only a piece of dry bread for dinner and went to the hall to spin the last of the flax.
    The late autumn day was bright and crisp. She sat before the window, enjoying the faint breeze. She liked to spin. The even rhythm drew her into reveries and helped her think. The bells on her spinning wheel rang busily. She let the spindle draw the flax out between her fingers into a fine even thread. Lifting her eyes from the pale flax, she saw Roger coming through the door, his hair vivid in the late light.
    There was no one else in the room. She went back to her spinning, alive to his approach.
    “Little sister,” he said, and stood before her. “How do you do, Maria?”
    He dandles all the local maids, Richard had said. Maria stopped the wheel and wound up the tail of the thread. With the spindle in her hand, she faced Roger. “Thank you, very well. Are you in command, now?”
    “I and William. But you command us all, I guess, don’t you?” His blue eyes were clear as a child’s. He bore his left side stiffly, favoring his wound. She tightened her fingers around the spindle.
    “I wish I did,” she said.
    “Do you?” He sat down at her feet. “What would you command of me? Tell me anything you want me to do.”
    Maria laughed. She wished Richard were as handsome as Roger, with his fine mouth and brilliant coloring. Richard’s jaw was too wide; he looked as if he were always biting down. Roger took the deep cuff of her sleeve between his fingers.
    “I could make you so happy, Maria.” He kissed the hem of her sleeve.
    “No,” she said. “I am married now.”
    “Maria.” He took her hand, and she yanked it away from him. When he reached for her again, she raised the spindle between them. He got up onto his feet.
    “You’re just like Richard. That’s Richard’s kind of excuse: Because I am married.” He went off across the hall.
    Maria stared after him. She thrust the spindle into her work basket. But he had only gone to the table against the wall, where he poured himself a cup of the wine. He came smiling toward her again, saluted her with the cup, and drank.
    “Why did you marry him?”
    “Ask him,” she said.
    “I know why he married you. That was not my question.” He seemed amused. Even wounded he was full of grace. “Well?”
    She shook her head. “Stop asking me that.”
    “If you want.” He sat down neatly on the floor beside her.
    “Did he have lots of women—Richard? Before.”
    “Richard? By the Cross.” He leaned against her knee. “Don’t you know him yet? He has no way with women, Richard.” He drank again. “Or with men either, I guess.” His eyes moved over her; he smiled. “What’s his way with you?”
    “Roger.” She got up hastily, moving away from him into the hall. The other women came in, and she helped them drag out the tables so that they could bring the supper.
    Roger came up to her. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to be free with you.”
    She tried to ignore him, her eyes downcast; she was dusting the top of the table. He went off. When she thought he must have gone she looked around at the door. He stood there, watching her. She looked quickly down, her face hot. He laughed and went out the door.

Three
    It was winter, when her father seldom raided. The dank, icy days kept most of them indoors. The knights gathered in the hall and drank and talked and cheated each other at games. Maria, her tasks done, sat in the window at the end of the hall sewing new shirts for Richard. She was sure now that she was with child. Her stomach and her temper had become very uneven. The cook seemed to