Fires of Winter by Roberta Gellis Read Free Book Online Page A

unsettled lands near us and the dues that we sent to our overlord or to the king. Since there was no great difference no matter where the dues went, I could not believe we were worse treated than any other holder in the shire.
    Later I learned the charters for the small manors Papa had established at Wyth, Rydal, and Irthing, where he had settled an old friend, Sir Gerald, had been written and sealed by Prince David. Even then I saw no real reason for Papa’s complaints. We paid dues on those new manors, which would profit the overlord, whoever he might be. Though I kept the accounts, Papa did not think women fit for understanding the intricacies of politics and did not discuss such matters with me, so I was left to believe he feared a new overlord would not honor the charters for spite. I did not realize there was more profit to enfeoffing a new man than in collecting rents faithfully paid.
    Those manors Papa founded kept us poor. Had he not diverted flocks and men from Ulle into the new lands, we could have established new villages in Ulle, enlarged our fishing fleet, and sold our produce, particularly the lake fish, which were in great demand. Sometimes I resented the draining away of our wealth, especially when I was young and was refused some bauble or a length of fine cloth or gold thread, but I soon realized why Papa was so intent on those new manors. He loved his sons and would not send them out to make their own way as he had been sent with no land to come back to. And one of the manors, Wyth, was to be my dower.
    Until King Henry died, all went well with us. We rejoiced heartily at the birth of the king’s grandson in 1133 because, if the child lived, he would rule in his grandfather’s place rather than Matilda, to whom the barons had been forced to swear. The king, though aging, seemed strong, the land was at peace, and our personal concern—who would hold Cumbria—seemed settled. To avoid giving offense to King David, who claimed Cumbria for his eldest son, or to Ranulf, earl of Chester, who claimed it because his father had once ruled it, King Henry would hold it as Crown land. And since no one could alienate Crown land except the king, Papa believed that the new manors would be “old” and ours by long custom as well as by law before any question regarding them could be raised. Another son, Geoffrey, was born to Matilda in 1134, securing, as we thought, the succession.
    Papa, who had been uneasy and grumbling ever since the swearing to Matilda, stopped talking about the probable horrors of being ruled by a woman—to which I had made no answer, although he tried my temper sorely. I often felt like recommending to him one of his own favorite maxims: Never cast away dross without a careful look; a jewel may be hidden within. But I had met Matilda when she came north with her father—not to Ulle, of course, but once in Carlisle and once in Richmond, and unfortunately, I thought Papa was right, except for discounting all women. Besides, pert remarks, except in jest on light matters, are no way to manage a man, so I held my tongue.
    So the year 1135 opened with contentment for us, which deepened into a hope for happiness as Magnus was wed to Winifred—both being willing and well satisfied with the match—and she got with child within the month. To ensure her comfort and safety, Papa bade the young couple live with us at Ulle instead of at Rydal, which would eventually be their home, and built them their own small house within the walls. Winifred was happy, and though she was a simple soul and I could not feel for her what I felt for Mildred, we lived peaceably together. The crops were good that year and the fish plentiful. The priests are always mumbling about signs and portents, but they are all liars, I think. There were no signs that summer or autumn of 1135 that the long peace in which England had basked and grown rich was about to be shattered.

Chapter 3
    Bruno
    I