Shadows and Strongholds Read Online Free PDF Page B

sideways at her sister who was wearing their mother's second-best green gown, purloined from the clothing coffer, and the matching silk wimple. She was holding a roil of linen bandage.
    'People die with their eyes open,' Hawise pointed out. Not that she had actually seen anyone breathe their last, but she had been to a vigil in the chapel last year for one of the knights and remembered that they had had to put coins on his lids to keep them shut.
    'Well, you're not dying, you're just wounded.'
    'Can I groan then?'
    Sibbi rolled her eyes.
    'I'd be groaning in real life, wouldn't I?'
    'She would,' Marion reinforced, with a vigorous nod of her flaxen head. She had a cushion stuffed up her dress. 'I think the baby's coming,' she said. 'Can I groan too?'
    'No, you can't.' Sibbi's slate-blue eyes flashed with irritation. 'And you can't give birth until I've bound up your husband's wounds!'
    The three girls were playing at 'sieges'. It had been Hawise's idea, for she was a tomboy with a vivid imagination and she had easily projected herself into the role of bold knight saving the castle from assault. Marion had opted to be the lady of the keep and, being just as fond of drama as Hawise in a different way, had added the embellishment of pregnancy to her perils. Sibbi, who was two years older than her sister and Marion, was keener on the nurturing aspect of the game. She wanted to bind the imaginary wounds, make them better, and practise her bandaging skills at the same time. Delivering a baby was somewhat beyond her knowledge, but a cushion was a start.
    'Give me your arm.' she said to Hawise.
    'You're supposed to give me lots of wine and get me drunk first,' Hawise said knowledgeably. 'When Papa fell off his horse and broke his collar bone, Mama made him drink three quarts of Welsh mead before she tended him.'
    'Well, you'll just have to pretend,' Sibbi snapped.
    Hawise screwed up her face and tried to remember the incident. Her father had spoken a lot through clenched teeth and been very bad-tempered. The mead had improved matters but when he had started singing a song about eight lusty maidens and a ginger cat, her mother had bundled Hawise from the room. A tremendous pity. She would have liked to know how the song ended.
    Hawise submitted to having her arm bandaged and pinned against her body, uttering a few moans to improve the authenticity and even daring her father's favourite curse of 'God's sweet eyes', until Sibbi clucked her tongue and Marion threatened to tell on her.
    Hawise sighed. 'How long do I have to lie here?'
    'Until you're better.'
    'Papa didn't. He was on a horse the next day.'
    'Can I have the baby now?' Marion asked querulously. She kneaded the bulge beneath her gown with small clenched fists.
    Sybilla de Dinan appeared in the doorway that led through to the day chamber for the castle's women. She was winding a length of spun wool on to her spindle as she regarded the girls with amusement. 'Sibbi, Hawise, your father's home from Shrewsbury,' she said. 'I've just seen him ride in.' Advancing to the beds, she paused before Hawise. 'Very accomplished,' she said, tucking the spindle in her belt and examining Sibbi's handiwork. 'I could not have done better myself.'
    Sibbi blushed with pleasure.
    'Although Hawise had best take it off, lest her father think she has met with an accident…'
    'Will Lord Joscelin think I'm with child?' Marion piped up.
    'Of course he won't,' Hawise sniffed. 'You're not married. Anyway, it takes a long time to grow a baby… doesn't it, Mama?' She turned so that Sybilla could unpin the bandage.
    'Yes, three seasons.' Sybilla's expression was still warm with amusement, but a guarded look had entered her eyes. She turned to Marion. 'You'll need some braid to decorate that new gown of yours. Do you want to come and choose the colours now?'
    Marion chewed her underlip and thought about the offer. Then she nodded and having solemnly tugged the cushion from beneath her dress, cast it on the