A Tapestry of Dreams Read Free Page B

Uncle Oliver is growing older—”
    “Audris, you are foolish. Your well-being and your right to Jernaeve have always been first in Sir Oliver’s mind. That is why I had to leave and must not return.”
    She stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “You cannot mean that my uncle feared you would harm me or take Jernaeve from me.”
    He shrugged. “I hope not, although I fear he has not the same trust in me that you have,” Bruno said. “Audris, you said yourself that I resemble Sir Oliver—and if he and his brother were much alike, then I resemble your father—”
    “I am sure you do, brother.”
    “Do not call me brother! Cannot you see there is a danger for you there? I would not take Jernaeve from you, but others might prefer me to a woman.”
    “Well, and so what if you ruled Jernaeve?” Audris asked with a shrug. “Would you drive me out? Would you not allow me to live quietly as I do now with my loom and my garden and my hawks? I am not unhappy, and if I had you for my companion, I would be happier still.”
    “It is not right!” Bruno exclaimed. “You should be married. Your husband is the one who must take Jernaeve into his hands when Sir Oliver is too old. Why have you no husband?”
    “I have not seen any man I favor,” Audris replied lightly, “and my uncle is too kind to force a man on me.”
    Bruno frowned. “Kind” was not the most appropriate word for Sir Oliver. He was a hard man, although honest and honorable. He did what he felt was right, whether or not he liked the doing, and made others do the same. Bruno doubted that Audris’s preference would count for much if Sir Oliver wanted her to marry.
    “You are in the direct line,” he said, avoiding any remark that might seem critical or suspicious of Sir Oliver, “and it is right that your son should be Fermain of Jernaeve. If you choose a strong man who will be kind to you, what more favor need you feel?”
    Audris lowered her eyes. “I do not know, but… Do you remember, Bruno, when Father Anselm told us the story of Jacob, and how he labored seven years for Rachel and was given Leah, and though Leah was all that any wife could be, he so desired Rachel that he bound himself for another seven years?”
    “Merciful Mary,” Bruno groaned wryly, “Father Anselm was a very holy man, but not overly wise. He filled your head with the most unsuitable things.”
    “And not yours, Bruno?” Audris asked mischievously. “Besides,” she went on, smiling up at him and not waiting for an answer, “if your hands and feet feel more easy, it is owing to Father Anselm’s unsuitable teachings.”
    “I never said herb lore was unsuitable,” Bruno replied, then sighed. “And do not think you can lead me so easily away from what is needful to be said. It is time for you to marry.”
    “Perhaps soon,” Audris temporized, climbing to her feet and beckoning to Bruno to get up too. “But it is time for me to get back to my weaving, and long past time when you should have been abed and asleep. I am a fool to have kept you talking.”
    Without waiting for an answer, Audris called her maid, who hurried from some work she was about behind the loom to open the bed curtains and lift the covers invitingly, while Audris turned to her weaving. Bruno glanced at her, knowing he had been put off, but he was too tired to argue and was asleep as he tumbled into the bed.
    Audris heard the curtain rings rattle back across the rod with relief. She did not want to discuss the subject of marriage further because she knew Bruno would be horrified to learn she had decided never to marry—at least not while her uncle was alive—unless Oliver himself pressed her to do so. How blind Bruno was not to see that her husband would be a greater danger to her uncle than Bruno’s own presence could ever be to her. Perhaps had she married very young, a boy equally young, her husband would have come to accept her uncle’s role as master. It was too late