Maid For Her

I balanced the basin of warm lavender-scented water in my arms as I entered milady’s solar to wake her. I closed the portal and slid down the bar that would keep all from intruding upon her peace. The maids oft entered without a summons, distressing milady. Truthfully, my motives were quite selfish. I could not bear to have another but myself tend her.
I prepared the water with loving care, knowing the exact temperature and scent milady preferred for her morning’s ablutions. I placed the basin next to the pitcher of cool water on the washstand.
With quick efficiency, I went to the chest in the corner and selected a simple smock and kirtle and a more ornate bliaut and girdle to adorn milady’s slender frame. I folded the items over my arm, and turned to the four-poster where she tossed and turned cocooned within heavy velvet curtains. I carefully parted the draperies.
My breath caught at the sight of her naked form tangled in fur throws. Light from the narrow casements cast a golden honeyed hue against her milk white skin. Her loose blonde tresses spilled over the soft curve of her shoulder to fall about her hips. She awoke. Her legs parted as she stretched. My sex grew moist as I glimpsed the plump folds of her woman’s furrow. I wanted to climb on the bed, stretch out beside her and suckle her pliant flesh.
The scent of lust and passion clung to the bedclothes. Milady’s essence intermingled with milord’s. My heart swelled with want for her. If any knew of my secret desires I would be cast out. I could not help the current of longing that swept through me. Indeed, if milady knew of my more affectionate feelings, she would certainly dismiss me. And that I could not bear. The lines dividing our stations had been severely drawn centuries ago.
Milady’s fate would be much worse. If I acted upon my need, and milord or the church were to learn of it, she would be sent to her death.
A fired dagger of fury pierced my soul as I glimpsed the bruises marring her porcelain skin. Bruises frequently left by her brute of a husband, milord and master. Thank the saints he had departed that very morn to follow King William and grovel to remain in his Majesty’s good graces.
To prove himself master, as he did on any eve before a long absence from milady, milord forced himself upon her. Paying no heed to her cries and protests. He ravished her without care for her tender flesh. >From my pallet just outside their bedchamber, I am forced to bear witness to her torment.
I had been maid to milady before her nuptials. She insisted I remain close by as on her wedding day, she was torn from her home and all that was familiar. Sleeping where I did, I heard all the intimate interactions between milord and lady. The quarrels, the protestations of milady, and her cries after milord departed for the village for his leman.
I tossed and turned on my lumpy pallet, my anger mounting with the passage of every hour. Milord had not only robbed her of her family and those she loved. Her bride price and innocence were merely used as political pawns by men – a most bitter betrayal. Her pain ate at my spirit for there was naught I could do to end her hellish fate that was not of her choosing.
“Milady, time to rise and break your fast.” I kept my voice soft as not to startle her.
She opened and focused her clear blue eyes, the redness beneath them evidence of her weeping. She moved first one limb then the other as if testing for broken bones.
The fury grew in my breast as I noticed the mark on her cheek. Milady was no match for milord’s superior strength, yet still she fought.
“Nay, ‘tis not nourishment of the body I need. I must hurry to the chapel and pray that I am with child. I must pray to God that I shall bear milord a son, and soon.” She gave a most vicious shudder. “I do not know if I can endure his touch further.”
I placed her clothes for the day upon the bed and offered her my hand. What could I say to ease her fears? What could I do to make her existence bearable when there was so much that had to be trusted to the Lord above?