Page 30 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Twenty-Four

To Alys’ relief, Sir Thomas proved a master of organization. He entreated Kate to chivvy the guests back to their beds, informing them there was nothing they could do. Hannah offered her chamber for the servants who had been flooded out below, but Kate made no such offer. Alys’ room, unfortunately, was too small to accommodate anyone but herself.

The servants, arrayed in a motley mixture of night and day clothes, set to with a will to rescue what they could from the flood, particularly in the kitchen and storerooms.

Fortunately, the waters receded rapidly but left behind an unpleasant odor. All besoms and brushes had been called into use, and every leather bucket and empty chamber pot in the house was being constantly filled and emptied outside. Soon the stone-flagged floor reappeared, glistening under the light of many candles and lamps.

The strongest men were deployed to rescue the contents of Selwood’s cellars. Sir Thomas and Avery, both stony-faced and frowning, were supervising operations here with surprising vigor—Alys hadn’t realized they valued Selwood’s good wines so highly. She put on her pattens and, throwing a cloak about her shoulders, hastened into the kitchen to manage the relocation of the cellars’ contents.

Someone had removed the curfew from the kitchen fire, which had been stoked into a blaze and Alys encouraged the servants to dry themselves by it when they needed a rest. She ordered space cleared in the dairy, so the old cheeses and dry goods from the cellars could be placed on shelves. The ale barrels were rolled into corners, and the cades and bottles of wine were stored along the walls and under the dairy table. Kate was nowhere to be seen. A relief, as she would only have countermanded Alys’ orders, and created chaos.

She was just wondering how much more was to come when someone stopped in front of her. Looking up, she discovered with a yank of the heart it was Kit. He grimaced at her as he shifted a barrel in his arms. “Where to, my lady?”

So, he had not taken her advice and left. But she couldn’t dispute with him here. Shock stole her breath, and her eyes were drawn to the way his wet shirt clung to the strained muscles of his chest and outlined the mounds of his biceps as he held the heavy barrel.

When she made no response, he carried his burden down the passageway towards the servants’ privy.

“I don’t think that’s a good place—”

“Needs must where the devil drives.” Kit glanced back over his shoulder. “It can always be moved again in the morning.”

She stared at him as he came back, grinning and wiping his hands on his sodden hose. He must have been working hard down below, for his fingers were filthy with slime, and his brow was beaded with sweat. She felt a fleeting sense of gratitude that he’d come to their aid, and ventured a smile as he passed her on his way back to the cellars.

Activity was slowing. Confident her helpers would be able to find room for the remaining items, Alys repaired to the kitchen and put another log on the fire, then stuck a poker beneath it to heat. One by one, the household staff gathered around the flames for a final warm through. Bidding them have a care on the slippery floor, she filled a jug with ale and mulled it with the poker, then passed it around. People settled down behind the long kitchen table or on benches by the fire, and accepted their reward.

Kate, now fully-dressed, chose this moment to come into the room, and everyone stood to greet her. She ignored them, and swung away, grim-faced, towards the cellars to join Kirlham and Avery.

How typical of Kate not to thank anyone. But perhaps she could be forgiven—some of their stored foodstuffs would be inedible, so she had a right to be angry at such a disaster. But what could have caused so large a body of water to hit the house, and then recede?

“How now, my lady. Can some of that ale be spared for me?” Kit settled next to her, so she was now trapped on the bench in front of the table, stuck between him and Bessie. She tried wriggling to one side, but it was impossible to avoid the pressure of his knee against hers. She scowled at him, but he just took a swig from the jug and passed it to her.

“It haven’t rained like this in a score of years, not as long as I’ve been here.” Bessie, one of the kitchen wenches, accepted the jug from Alys and filled a small horn beaker for herself.

Annys, the black-toothed old woman who scoured the dishes every day, held up a pewter cup to be filled. “To my mind, any summer as hot and dry as this always end in tears and tantrums. ’Twas so in the last year of Henry, which is the first I remember, and many other years since.”

“I knew not you were a teller of the weather,” stated Oakes, the falconer. He took a deep draught from the steaming jug and wiped his mouth. “What I want to know is, where have all that water come from? There’s no stream hereabouts to overflow, so how could so much have built up in one place?”

Alys had been wondering the same thing.

“Mayhap ’tis the wrath of God,” Kit offered. “Have any of you wicked secrets to conceal?”

Bessie giggled, Alys’ glare silenced her.

“There was a stream here long before our time,” said Annys. “But I don’t know where the grand folk put it when they built the new house. To my mind, you shouldn’t tangle with nature. That stream will be running below us somewhere, just waiting for the chance to boil up again and reclaim its proper path, you mark my words.”

There was a sudden crash, which made everyone jump. As the kitchen door slammed against the wall, Sir Thomas entered. Alys saw murder in his eyes.