A Dishonorable Knight(20)
"Then perhaps you should assist the sisters in their charitable works to make the time pass more quickly."
"Why can't you escort me to Nottingham?"
"Because I go to see my father in Gwynedd," Gareth said tightly.
"You mean you're deserting the king?"
"I have no set duties with Richard. My father I have not seen in two years."
They stopped in front of the farthest of the small houses. As Cynan and Bryant dismounted, the door burst open and a short burly man came out, quickly followed by what looked to Elena like at least a dozen children. The burly man gave Bryant a quick hug before releasing him to the children who climbed all over Bryant, laughing and shouting. While his arms were burdened with three toddlers, a dark-haired young woman who looked to be about sixteen took advantage of his position and bestowed a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"The would-be fiancée," Cynan explained in Elena's ear as he helped her down from her horse.
"Ah," said Elena, trying unsuccessfully to smother a smile.
They were ushered inside by the man, who introduced himself as Gruffydd, and his wife Catrin, a short plump woman with crinkly laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. Upon Catrin's instruction, Bryant's love-struck cousin Marared took Elena into the other room of the small house where she was finally able to take off her travel-stained gown and bathe.
"I swear I never thought I'd live to appreciate warm water again," Elena said as she stepped into the bucket of water the girl brought in and bent down to splash water onto her bare arms and chest.
The girl grinned and held up a plain gown. "You can wear this this evening if you like so we can wash your chemise."
"It's over there on the chest," Elena gestured. "I suppose ‘tis too much to hope you might have some soft soap?" she asked with a grimace as she rubbed the rough lye soap over her legs.
"No. That is all we have. I did put some mint in your water though so you'd smell good. My mother says it’s alright to smell like a fresh mint tart as long as you don't act like one!" Laughing loudly, the girl did not notice the grimace on Elena's face.
"Lovely," Elena muttered. "I've always wanted to smell like a nauseating desert. By the way, how is it that your family speaks English? Aren't you Welsh?"
"Oh yes. But we live so close to the English and sell and buy things back and forth so often that one of us must speak the other's language and I can't imagine them English ever trying to learn Welsh." Belatedly realizing that Elena must be English, the young girl lowered her head in embarrassment and turned to straighten Elena's clothes.
The girl gasped when she picked up Elena's chemise. "I've never felt such fine cloth." Turning to the dark blue kirtle, she delicately traced the embroidered and beaded neckline. "Is this one of your court dresses?"
"No it's one of my older travel gowns." Despite her antagonism she had earlier felt over having to stay with Welsh peasants, the girl's admiration and naivete relaxed Elena's enmity and she surprised herself by saying, "You may try it on if you wish."
The girl looked at her in amazement but in a flash removed her rough gown and slipped the blue linen over her head. "I feel like a queen," she said, swishing the full skirt around the small room. Surveying the cloud of dust that followed the whirling hem, she said, "I'll wager we could brush the dust out of this till it looks like new." She ducked out of the room before Elena could say a word. She quickly returned with a horsehair brush and another bucket of water.
"I brought some fresh water if you'd like me to help you wash your hair."
If bathing had felt good, washing her hair in the cool mint-scented water was heavenly, Elena thought a few minutes later. Marared scrubbed her scalp and worked the tangles out of Elena's long hair.
"Such an unusual color your hair is," the girl said as she combed it out. "I usually hate combing my sisters' hair, but yours is so pretty to look at, I don't mind."
Elena looked over her shoulder in surprise. Another woman had never complimented her. Men had written poems about the color of her hair, but the women at court had only criticized it, commenting on its brassiness or the way it made her skin look sallow. Elena knew they were only being spiteful, but it still caused her to be surprised at Marared's honest compliment.
Once she was clean from head to toe, Elena dried herself with a small cloth as her self-appointed maid vigorously brushed the dusty gown.