The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 98
“Where is Sir Cullen?” she asked as casually as she could.
Godfrey’s smile faded. “Attending the earl. ’Twould seem that our lord had an accident this afternoon involving his nose that required the attention of a physic.” He turned to Hamilton, motioning the man forward. “Ham and I have come to escort the countess and her lady-in-waiting to King John’s orgy.”
Hamilton was smiling so openly at Teodora that she found herself thoroughly bothered by it. She thought it looked as if he wanted to eat her, like a fancy piece of candy. But she took his offered arm out of courtesy.
“King John’s orgy?” she repeated, a bit timidly. “Are you certain?”
Godfrey nodded, laughing at his own wittiness. “Of course,” he said. “We are to take you to a decadent celebration in the fashion of the ancient Roman orgies. Come. Let us drink, eat, and become ridiculously inebriated.”
Teodora cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds wicked.”
Godfrey laughed again. “It is, my lady, it is.”
In truth, Teodora was a bit surprised that she was allowed to leave the chamber. The last she’d heard, Preston was screaming for her death and Cullen was trying to prevent it. But clearly, something must have changed, for surely Cullen would not have sent Godfrey and Hamilton to escort her to the feast had Preston still been out to punish her.
Perhaps Cullen had managed to soothe Preston’s rage, after all.
Leaving Regal in the chamber being watched by a servant, the knights in their cleanest, finest tunics escorted the two well-dressed women back through the labyrinth of corridors and stairs until they reached the ground level of Rodstone House. There was a fine carriage waiting for them in the courtyard, a box-shaped, fortified vehicle pulled by four heavy-boned horses.
As Teodora was helped into the carriage through the rear of it, she could see that the sides of it were wooden and iron, with the wood being painted with the bright blue of the House of de Lacy. Inside, there were cushioned benches, and she and Victoria sat as the rear of the cab was secured and off they went into the night.
Since the cab was fortified, there weren’t any real windows other than slits up toward the top of the cab itself. Through those slits, the soft night air wafted in along with the smells of smoke and the musty scent of the river. The jaunt to Westminster Palace was very short, indeed, over a fairly bumpy road, but within a minimal amount of time, they were coming to a halt and the rear of the cab was being opened again.
Then, the world came alive.
The great walls of Westminster Palace loomed before them. There were people and lights everywhere, and as Teodora was escorted from the cab and led to the entrance to Westminster Hall, she could hear the music. Minstrels were roaming the floors and once inside the smoky great hall, there were tables heaped high with food and decorations of small trees with golden boughs. Hundreds of expensive tallow candles filled the hall with their warm glow as dozens of finely dressed noble guests strolled about, greeting each other in soft conversation.
Teodora was awed. The warmth, the smells, and the pageantry were nearly overwhelming. On Hamilton’s arm, she had been so upswept with her surroundings that it took her some time to realize that nearly a dozen de Lacy soldiers had accompanied them on their journey from the courtyard outside.
Boxed in by silver and blue tunics, Teodora was aware that she felt very much like a countess. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful and elegant, a distinct departure from the woman who usually shunned everything lovely and fashionable. Everyone was staring at her, pointing, wondering who the beautiful woman in the crimson gown was. Tall and slender, Teodora presented an absolutely striking picture.
“My lady is the center of attention,” Hamilton commented to her. He was puffed up like a proud pigeon. “Surely there is not a more beautiful woman at Westminster.”
Teodora didn’t like compliments; unless, of course, they were coming from Cullen. She eyed Hamilton threateningly. “There are plenty of fine women. In fact, I’ve never seen so many.” She began to look around. “Isn’t this the king’s feast? Is he here?”
Hamilton pointed a meaty finger at the dais at one end of the great hall. “There, my lady,” he said. “That is where he shall be. The king is quite fond of these festive gatherings and enjoys every minute he can.”
Teodora looked at that end of the hall, noting the elaborately painted screen and carved walls. Above the king’s table, giant iron chandeliers were ablaze with light. There were people milling by the dais and, all over the hall, feasting on some of the food that was set out. In the middle of hall was a dance area where couples were repeating the steps to an ancient folkdance. A large group of musicians with a variety of instruments, including a lyre, several wooden flutes, and a mandolin, played precisely.
“Of course you dance, my lady,” Hamilton said, noting that she was intently studying the dancers.
Teodora shook her head. “Not since I was a child. I do not remember how.”
He laughed softly as he escorted her forward into the crowd. “I am sure there will be scores of noblemen to refresh your memory.”
As he said that, Teodora immediately noticed a man staring at her from the opposite side of the room. He was small, dressed in magnificent clothes that were wrinkled and stained. His black gaze raked her, one droopy eye giving him a dense and unattractive appearance. Teodora stared back, feeling a creeping sense of foreboding. There was something in his eyes that seemed to reach out and touch her, a dirty and inappropriate stroke. It was disturbing but difficult to describe.
Tearing her gaze away, she took the seat offered by Hamilton. She hoped the black-eyed man wasn’t one of the noblemen willing to give her dance lessons.
It was a hope, unfortunately, that was not to be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Please tell me that the exquisite creature on Hamilton’s arm is none other than the new Lady Barklestone.”
John’s gaze was fixed on the far side of the hall as Barric stood beside him, his dirty dark hair hanging in his eyes. He could see where the man was looking.
“That is she, Highness,” he said.
“You’ve met her, then?”
Barric shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I’ve only heard rumor of her exceptional features. Tall, with white-blonde hair as fine as silk. That woman matches the description perfectly.”
John continued to observe her, pure lust glittering in his eyes. “Delicious, indeed,” he murmured. “I would meet this woman, Barric.”
Barric nodded. He had expected the command and was aware of the usual routine. “To your chambers, then?”
The king stroked his stubbled chin, the wheels of his mind spinning. “Nay,” he said slowly. “Have Hamilton bring her to my private solar. I should like to gaze upon her in the moonlight as she… entertains me.”
Barric turned to gaze at the woman, the smoky haze of the hall enveloping her distant form. It made her appear almost surreal, like a maid in the mist. Clearly, he could see that the rumors were true; Lady Barklestone was exceptional. The king, being an admirer of lovely women, was understandably attracted to her. No matter that her husband was an earl and a supporter of rebellion; that didn’t matter in the least. The king’s royal rights permitted him to take any woman he desired, married or not. Unfortunate husbands were not permitted to voice their indignity in any way.
Preston may have avoided the assassination attempt, but his wife was going to be another conduit by which to get to him.
Humiliate him.
“I shall see to it, Highness,” Barric said quietly.
John waved him off. “Have Hamilton bring her. She’ll permit a trusted knight to escort her rather than a man she does not know.”
“But what if the earl arrives and demands to know where his wife is? After the assassination attempt, he’s likely to be…”
John interrupted impatiently. “By the time Preston de Lacy arrives, I shall already have taken her and returned her to the hall.” He scratched his chin in thought. “But we might have a problem if de Nerra comes looking for her. You know how dedicated to the earl he is. Is there any way to keep him occupied for the evening, short of causing a major skirmish?”
Barric continued to eye Teodora from a distance. “We may not need to occupy him at all. Hamilton told me that the earl had an accident this afternoon that required a physic’s attention. De Nerra has been tending the earl like a mother hen, catering to him incessantly.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve never known de Nerra to cater to anyone. The man is far too proud. Tending de Lacy like a mother hen, did you say?”
“In Hamilton’s words, kissing his noble arse.”
John snorted. “God’s Bones, what a mental picture that makes. And it truly makes me wonder; is de Nerra out of favor with the earl somehow?”
“I would sincerely doubt it,” Barric replied. “But it, indeed, makes one wonder what has happened. A division of those two would benefit your cause tremendously. It would almost be too good to hope for.”
John nodded. “Tell Hamilton to keep an alert ear. I would know if, and why, de Lacy and his beloved de Nerra are quarreling.” He flicked a hand in the general direction of Lady de Lacy’s table. “Go, now. My impatience grows. And time dwindles.”
With a bow to the king, Barric made his way through the smoke and people, catching Hamilton’s eye and issuing silent commands. The knight, helping the countess with her seat, nodded imperceptibly.
John waited a nominal amount of time before quitting the hall with great anticipation.
“My apologies, my lady,” Hamilton was aghast. “How terribly clumsy of me!”
Teodora wiped gingerly at the huge wine stain covering the front of her new gown. It had all happened so fast. One moment Hamilton was handing her a chalice of deep-red wine, and in the next moment the entire cup was covering her from chin to lap.
“No serious damage done,” she said. But in truth, she was sickened that her beautiful dress was ruined. “I suppose it will wipe clean. Besides, the wine is red. Mayhap it will blend in with the fabric.”
Hamilton was beside himself. “That will not do for the Countess of Barklestone. A clean, new gown is the only answer. The earl will have fits if he arrives and sees that you are stained, and then he’ll most likely take my head off for causing you such shame.”
“There is no shame in spilled wine, Sir Hamilton.”
“There will be to the earl, my lady.”
Teodora looked concerned. “You’ll be in a great deal of trouble, won’t you?”
Hamilton nodded grimly. “Aye, my lady.”
She didn’t want Hamilton to fall out of favor because of a simple accident. Moreover, after what had happened this afternoon, the earl’s mood was certain to be more foul than usual and she didn’t want to antagonize the situation by wearing a stained gown. She rose to her feet.
“Then you may escort me back to my chambers where I may change my clothes,” she said. “Victoria?”
Victoria immediately rose and prepared to help her new mistress. But Hamilton held her off. “We’ll move more quickly, just the two of us. I shall have a chambermaid assist her and return quicker than a wink. You’ll serve her best by staying here and placating the earl should he arrive while we are missing.”
Victoria looked uncertain. “But my lady’s gowns will not be in her apartments. You must send a chambermaid to the seamstress’ home, the one who lives on Shoe Lane. She sews all of my clothing and that is who Cullen sent to do Lady Barklestone’s. She promised to have the countess’ gowns finished before the morrow.”
Hamilton seemed to be in a great hurry. “Very well,” he grasped Teodora’s arm, leading her away from the table. “I shall send a woman now. She can meet us back at Rodstone House.”
“You are going all the way back to Rodstone?”
Hamilton shot her an impatient glare. “Where else is she supposed to find her clothing?”
He had a point and Victoria shut her mouth. He seemed rather agitated. Instead of escorting Teodora from the hall, Hamilton was almost yanking her and Victoria watched them go, confusion in her eyes. She had known Hamilton a long time and he was not a man easily disturbed. Not even by the thought of the earl’s wrath.
Slowly, thoughtfully, Victoria regained her seat, her gaze moving about the room. It took her a moment to realize that the king was gone. He’d been there, and now he’d vanished, coincidentally, at the same time as Lady Barklestone had.
Victoria had been in London for a few years and there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen or heard as far as the reputations and lives of the nobility went. It was something that most savvy wives knew, and she very aware of the king and his unsavory reputation when it came to bedding the wives and daughters of his vassals. That, unfortunately, was common knowledge. She leaned over to her husband’s ear.
“John has disappeared,” she murmured. “He was here only a moment ago.”
Her husband didn’t reply, drinking his wine as he gazed about the room. Victoria stared at him, her sense of concern deepening.
“Did you hear me?” she said. “Barric Fitz Hammond walked past this table not a moment ago. I swear that he was looking at Lady Barklestone.”
Still, her husband did not reply and a strong sense of panic seized her. Victoria realized she was carrying on a one-sided conversation with a man who, if the king requested it, would submit to the king’s command. So would Hamilton.
She knew that without a doubt.
“Answer me, Godfrey,” she snapped. “Is that why Barric was lingering near this table? Did Hamilton spill that wine at the king’s behest? An excuse to remove Lady Teodora from the hall?”
Victoria was too smart, too perceptive for her own good. Although she wasn’t young enough or pretty enough for the king’s tastes, she had seen many fine young women ruined by John’s lust, and the idea of her lovely young mistress at the king’s mercy filled her with terrible dread.
“Godfrey,” she hissed, shaking his arm to gain his attention. “You will answer me. Did Ham…”
Her husband turned on her, viciously. “Shut your mouth, stupid woman,” he growled. “Don’t you realize the trouble you invite with your loose lips?”
Victoria paled at his sharp words, deeply hurt. But she persisted. “He has selected her, then. That is why Barric was near this table. She goes even now to meet John.”
“I told you to shut up.”
She shook her head in disbelief and urgency. “But we must send word to the earl and Sir Cullen immediately. They must stop the king!”
Godfrey clenched his teeth, the look in his eye deadly. “No one can stop the king, not even Preston de Lacy.”
“But if you don’t send word to them, you’ll be to blame for their anger as much as the king. It’s as though…”
“Shut your stupid mouth!”
“… As though you are loyal to John and not the earl!”
Godfrey lurched as though he might strike her. Wisely, he held himself in check and indulged in more wine. Victoria watched him closely, torn between dropping the subject and pressing it.
“But what of Sir Cullen?” she changed her approach, asking softly and non-aggressively. “Perhaps if we…”
Godfrey shook his head. “If we send word to Cullen, he’ll simply kill the king. And he, in turn, shall be executed. And the earl needs Cullen more than he needs an unsullied wife.”
Victoria was horrified. “So we can do nothing?”
Her husband didn’t answer. He simply drank more wine. Victoria, sickened and distraught, sat back in her chair and tried not to become physically ill. As she sat repeating a prayer from her childhood, a large warm body suddenly sat in the chair beside her.
“Where is the countess?”
It was Cullen. Godfrey almost choked on his wine, spraying most of it onto the table. Victoria looked at Cullen as though beholding an avenging angel, a million words coming to mind but unable to speak any of them. She knew that if she said anything, her husband would punish her. So, wide-eyed and frantic, she silently looked to her husband for his response.
Godfrey was struggling to recover his shock. “Where… where’s the earl?”
Cullen made a grab for the nearest pitcher of wine. “In his apartment, drowning his pain in liquor and opiates. But he shall be along soon.” He glanced around. “Where’s the countess?”
Victoria looked as if she were about to cry. Being as perceptive as he was, Cullen focused on her expression immediately.
“What’s wrong, Victoria?” he asked.
Victoria wouldn’t answer. Godfrey couldn’t answer. As Cullen stared at the pair, seeing their varied and intense expressions, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as a horrible thought occurred to him.
“Where is the countess?”
“This is not the way back to Rodstone House,” Teodora said helpfully, though she could hardly believe that Hamilton had gotten lost. “I believe we must go out to the bailey of Westminster and summon the earl’s cab.”
Hamilton shook his head. “It would take too much time,” he said. “I thought it best to find a private room, close by, where you could change your clothing.”
“But the seamstress…”
“I shall find a maid to carry a message to her as to your location.” He smiled confidently. “You needn’t worry, my lady. You are in good hands.”
Teodora thought he was being rather considerate and did not question him. The corridor they were traveling was long and dark, somewhere away from Westminster’s great hall, and eventually they turned a corner and found themselves walking on woolen rugs. The ambiance of the hall had changed and there were soldiers lining the walls at lengthy intervals. Heavy brocade curtains hung over every open window, and Teodora gazed at it all curiously.
