Love Everlasting, page 14
As he hurried along the gallery and back down the steps he had just ascended, Royce swore the foulest oath in the extensive gutter vocabulary he had acquired during years of spying. Were it not for the message he held in his fist, he would at that moment be plunging deep inside his wife’s alluring body. His dangerous wife. Possibly, his treacherous wife. He was a dimwitted husband, to want her so badly.
He was almost running when he passed Cadwallon on the landing at the lower gallery.
“What’s amiss?” Cadwallon called after him. “Royce, stop and take a deep breath. You look ready to commit murder.”
The admonition brought him to his senses. Royce paused and took several deep breaths. While he waited for Cadwallon to catch up with him, he reminded himself who he was and where his duty lay. He had never allowed pleasures of the flesh to interfere with his efforts to protect King Henry and he would not do so now. When they reached the level of the great hall he handed the message to Cadwallon, who halted by a wall torch to smooth out the parchment and read it.
“Merciful Lord in heaven,” Cadwallon said softly. Looking around to be sure no one else was near he continued, “A plot to kill the queen? I’d ask why anyone would want to harm that sweet lady, but the reason is obvious. Henry lost his first queen and the last of his legitimate sons to death. He’s hoping to resolve the problem of the succession by getting a new heir on Adelicia. If she dies, he’ll have to find a third queen, which will take time, perhaps years. And he’s growing older.”
“Exactly. The lack of a direct heir, or of any immediate hope for an heir, will leave the possibility of succeeding Henry open to several candidates. His nephew, Stephen of Blois, for one.”
“Robert of Gloucester for another,” Cadwallon said. “I know he’s illegitimate, but so was William the Conqueror. Robert has the advantage of being a decent, intelligent man - and he is Henry’s own son. Like you, I can think of several other men who may covet the throne of England, not to mention the dukedom of Normandy. Each of the possible candidates will have his own adherents, nobles who thirst for power and wealth and who will stop at little to gain their desires. Have you thought, Royce, that if the queen is killed and her death can be traced to one of the possible contenders for the throne, the result will probably be a very bloody civil war?”
“That is as clear an analysis of the situation as I could ever hope to make,” Royce said. “Though I must point out that you have omitted the most likely and most determined candidate of all - our old nemesis, Louis VI of France.”
“Oh, I thought of Louis,” Cadwallon said. “I just didn’t want to speak his name. It’s my opinion that Louis lusts after Normandy and any other counties, or castles, or bits of land that Henry has managed to acquire during a lifetime of conflict between the two. What’s more, I’ll wager that Louis is willing to grant the crown of England to a nephew or - doesn’t he have a few younger sons besides his heir? Just let one of those lads proclaim his intention to swear lifelong fealty to Louis in return for England, and see how quickly Louis will place the Conqueror’s crown on a French head, most likely with his own hands.
“After which,” Cadwallon went on with growing heat, “our lands will be confiscated and turned over to nobles who are loyal to Louis. By God, they won’t have Hatherford! I won my barony with my sword and my blood. I’ll not hand it to a Frenchman without a fight!”
“Nor will I give up Wortham,” Royce said. “My father received it from the Conqueror and I intend to pass it on to my son.”
“Well, then.” A fierce grin spread across Cadwallon’s face. “We must keep Queen Adelicia alive and well and pray she’ll give King Henry a healthy son.”
“Or, failing that, we can pray that King Henry will name an official heir and thus put an end to murderous schemes against a kind-hearted lady who holds her husband in deep reverence,” Royce added.
“Do you intend to tell Cortland about the plot?”
“I must,” Royce said soberly. “Cortland’s duty requires him to see to the safety of his king and queen whenever they are at Norwich. We’d better hurry, Cadwallon. I fear we are late for our conference with him.”
“He will understand the delay once he hears your news.” Cadwallon clapped Royce on the shoulder and together they headed for the apartment where Cortland lived.
Throughout the next few hours, while the three men discussed the best means of keeping Queen Adelicia safe without alarming her or restricting her activities during the Christmas celebrations, Royce repeatedly thought of Julianna’s offer to supervise preparations in the rooms the queen was to occupy. By the time Julianna was finished with her supervision, she’d know every corner of those rooms and every entrance, including the discreet, sometimes hidden doors that servants used. In addition, Julianna would surely learn the queen’s planned schedule by heart. The question Royce asked himself over and over was whether Julianna would tell Kenric what she had learned.
These speculations led inevitably to the question that Royce didn’t want to face, yet knew he must soon answer. Was Julianna part of the plot to kill the queen?
“You did not return last night,” Julianna said. Holding a plate of bread in one hand and a cup of wine in the other, she slid onto the bench next to Royce. He moved aside. She hoped it was only to give her more room. Setting her morning meal on the table, she looked around the nearly empty great hall, then faced Royce directly. “Did you sleep at all? You look tired.”
When she put out her hand to touch him, he evaded the gesture by lifting his goblet and drinking. Julianna folded her hands in her lap.
“What is it? Have I offended you?”
“How could you offend me, my lady? You’ve done nothing wrong. Have you?”
“Not so far as I know. But you are clearly angry.”
“It’s more that I am distracted. There is much to be done before King Henry arrives.”
“I will speak to Janet at once. We’ll begin on the queen’s apartment this morning.”
“Do that.” Royce handed his goblet and plate to a nearby servant. He stood, straightening his tunic. “We will speak again later, my lady.”
He stalked out of the great hall without looking back, leaving Julianna to stare after him in bewilderment.
“I don’t understand,” she said to Janet later, when the two of them were inspecting the royal chambers. The day was well advanced, for Janet needed several hours in which to recuperate from her daily sickness. “I know so little about men. Is Cadwallon ever like that?”
“Like what?” Janet ran a finger over the shutters and heaved a sigh of disgust. “I’ll tell you one thing about men. They never notice the dust that’s right under their noses. Lord Cortland ought to be ashamed of himself; this room will have to be scrubbed from top to bottom and the tapestries taken outside and beaten until the dust is gone. We will need fresh rushes on the floor. Queen Adelicia prefers lavender and sweet woodruff. At least we don’t have to worry about her furniture. It’s coming to Norwich with her, so her personal servants will see to it.”
“Janet.”
“Yes, I heard you.” Having completed her inspection, Janet faced Julianna. “You haven’t told me what happened.”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Last night after we left the great hall, Royce was so passionate. He kissed me on the stairs.” Julianna pressed her hands to her overheated cheeks. “I thought he wanted - that he intended -”
“You thought he was about to rush you into his room and tumble you onto the bed and have at you,” Janet finished, grinning. “Well, did he?”
“No.” Julianna felt her cheeks growing warmer still, but she continued, determined to find a reason for Royce’s odd behavior. “It was as if a wall suddenly rose between us. He left our bedchamber and did not return. I don’t know where, or if, he slept. This morning, in the great hall, he was so cold to me.”
“Last night, did you do anything to discourage him? Not that I’d ever believe Royce could be swayed from anything he wanted to do, but men can be peculiar in the bedchamber.”
“I didn’t discourage him. I removed my gown, so when he entered the room, I was wearing only my shift and he must have seen that I was eagerly waiting for him. Was that wrong?”
“Hardly. That was encouragement, not an error.” Janet thought for a moment. “I have observed Cadwallon when he’s solving a problem. Let us try his methods. Go back to last evening and tell me, step by step, exactly what happened after you left the great hall.”
Julianna dutifully repeated the story, up to the point at which Royce departed from their bedchamber.
“You were apart while he read the letter,” Janet said, looking hard at her. “Do you know what was in the letter?”
“I have no idea. When I asked about it, he said it was important - no, he said ‘urgent’ - but not dangerous, and he couldn’t ignore it. I suppose that could mean a hundred different things. I didn’t insist he tell me. I know what Royce does for King Henry, and I understand that he cannot always reveal what’s happening.” Julianna didn’t think it necessary to add that Lord Deane had struck her several times when she had insisted on knowing what he was doing. She had learned early in her marriage to Deane that asking too many questions was not wise.
“You seem to think that Royce used the letter as an excuse to leave you,” Janet said, still subjecting her friend to that same hard gaze.
“That’s what he said. What he implied,” Julianna corrected herself.
“And you don’t know what was in the letter?”
“No. I’ve told you so.” Julianna met the other woman’s gaze without evasion.
“I believe you,” Janet said, scowling. “Men can be such fools. They think they are so clever, that they are managing everything, when all the time it’s women and the servants who get the really important work done. Like cleaning this room. I would dearly love to see Royce of Wortham sweeping this dusty floor. I know him, you see. He’d be sneezing and coughing and then he’d start to wheeze in hope that some silly woman would come along and do the job for him.”
“Surely not,” Julianna protested. “Janet, do be serious. I told you all of this in hope that you’d have some good advice for me. What am I to do?”
“To get Royce back into bed, you mean?” Janet chuckled. “Tell me, Julianna, how can a woman who is married for the third time blush the way you do?”
“It’s my pale skin,” Julianna said. She couldn’t tell Janet more than she already had, couldn’t bring herself to reveal the emptiness of her previous marriages. She feared she’d said too much.
“Well, my advice to you is to be patient,” Janet said. “Royce may very well be distracted just now, but I’ve noticed the way he looks at you and I doubt if he’ll leave you alone for long.”
Later that day Janet joined Cadwallon and Royce on the battlements. Royce watched with a twinge of envy as Cadwallon put an arm around his red-haired wife and planted a long kiss on her lips. He looked away, toward the low meadows beyond the castle, where the grass was crusted with frost. After a time he cleared his throat to remind the others that they were not alone.
“Sorry,” Cadwallon said, not sounding at all regretful. “Our rooms here are full of servants and children. I seize every chance for a quiet moment with Janet.”
“Royce,” Janet said, “Cadwallon told me that you wanted me to watch Julianna and report any odd activities to you.”
“And?” Royce could barely breathe. He prayed Janet hadn’t seen or heard anything that would force him to take action against his wife.
“Have you been imagining that she has a lover?” Janet demanded. “If so, you are very wrong. A woman with a lover would be delighted if her husband left her alone at night, but Julianna was terribly upset that you didn’t join her in bed.”
“Cadwallon and I were meeting with Lord Cortland.” He should have known that his icy cold tone wouldn’t deter Janet’s speculations. Few things daunted Janet.
“You weren’t with Lord Cortland all night long,” Janet said. “Cadwallon joined me shortly after midnight. When I asked him, he said the meeting was finished. Now, tell me, Royce, what was in that letter you received? Are you the spouse with a lover? Is that why you’re neglecting your wife?”
“Certainly not!” Royce glared at her until she smiled.
“I didn’t think so. You aren’t going to tell me - or Julianna - about that letter, are you?”
“No,” Royce said, trying not to laugh at Janet’s confrontational methods of obtaining information, methods which hadn’t changed in all the years he’d known her.
“Cadwallon, do you know what was in that troublesome letter?” Janet asked, turning to her husband.
“I?” Cadwallon assumed an expression of offended innocence. “How should I know?”
“That’s what I thought.” Janet returned her attention to Royce. “I will tell you what I have often told Cadwallon, and I hope you will take what I say to heart. Husbands and wives are happiest when they are honest with each other.”
“I agree,” Royce said.
“Ha! Have you any new orders for me, my lord? I do think I make a useful spy. Don’t you?”
“Very useful,” Royce said. “Continue to observe and listen whenever you are with Julianna. Promptly report anything unusual to me or to Cadwallon.”
“I expect you to explain all of this to me,” Janet said, “and to Julianna, once this is over - whatever this is. Cadwallon, are you coming?”
“In a moment,” Cadwallon said.
“Just as I suspected. More secrets. Men!” With that, Janet vanished through the doorway to the steps, slamming the heavy wooden door so hard that it flew open again. Cadwallon closed it more gently.
“You haven’t told her,” Royce said.
“I trust Janet completely, but she does have a sharp tongue and occasionally she employs it too vigorously. Royce, if Janet thinks Julianna is honest, the chances are good that she is.”
“Thank you.”
Cadwallon stood where he was for a moment, watching his friend. Then he followed his wife down the stairs, leaving Royce alone with his thoughts.
“Have you learned anything?” Marie asked.
Julianna was dressing for the evening meal and her maid was pinning her hair up high in the latest fashion. Recalling Marie’s tendency when annoyed to jab the bone hairpins into her mistress’s scalp, Julianna delayed answering until the coiffure was finished.
“Well?” Marie handed her a small mirror.
“I like it,” Julianna said, turning her head this way and that, though she knew her hairstyle wasn’t what Marie had meant. “I do prefer a net to the inconvenience of a veil.”
“Not your hair.” Marie snatched the mirror away. “You do remember Kenric, don’t you? He will be in Norwich in a very few days, and he will be expecting information.”
“I cannot provide Kenric with information if there is nothing to impart,” Julianna said. Standing, she smoothed her blue silk skirts.
“You dare not defy him,” Marie said. “What about that letter?”
“What letter?” Julianna was sure she hadn’t hesitated for even an instant, though she was surprised to hear that Marie knew about the letter. Julianna was curious to know how the maid had learned of it.
“You know perfectly well what letter,” Marie said. “The one your husband received last night. Everyone knows about it. In fact, a lowly squire told me about it, so don’t pretend you know nothing.”
“Royce does not confide in me. In that, he is remarkably similar to my other husbands.”
“Make him confide!” Marie ordered. “Lure him into bed, then refuse to let him have his way with you until he tells you what the letter contains.”
“I doubt if my refusal would mean anything to Royce.” Julianna wasn’t going to admit that she feared she’d be unable to lure her husband into bed in the first place and that, if she succeeded, she certainly wasn’t going to refuse him anything he wanted.
“Do not play games with me,” Marie snarled at her. “Your life, and mine, may well depend on what you can make Royce tell you.”
“I have warned you before, Marie.” Julianna’s nerves were stretched close to snapping. She fought to keep her voice steady. “I will not warn you again. I no longer care what you were to Lord Deane, or what you do for Kenric. You are the servant here. Do not make me report you to Royce.”
“You must have information to pass on to Kenric,” Marie said, pushing her face so close to Julianna’s that their noses were almost touching.
“If I have nothing to tell Kenric, what then?” Julianna demanded. “Will he kill me?”
Marie’s swarthy skin went pale, but as far as Julianna could tell, she lost none of her aggressiveness.
“He’s far more likely to hire someone to slash your face,” the maidservant said.
Chilled to the heart, Julianna sank onto the side of the bed, not noticing at first that Marie had left the room.
“What was that about?” Royce asked, coming through the door. “Marie just stormed past me like a human whirlwind.”
“She’s upset because I have no information for Kenric.”
“Why not? There is plenty of information available at Norwich for an enterprising double agent to gather.” Royce sat beside her. “Julianna, your hand is cold as ice. What else did Marie say?”
“I don’t see any reason not to tell you.” Julianna shrugged her shoulders and tried to appear indifferent. “First, you ought to know that, according to Marie, everyone in the castle is aware that you received a letter last night, and the servants are speculating about the contents. Also, Marie warned me that Kenric is capable of slashing my face if I don’t do what he wants.”
“I’ll kill him,” Royce said quite calmly. “I told you this was a bad idea. I won’t allow you to continue this game of double agent.”
“I have to continue,” Julianna insisted, pulling her hand from his grasp. “Why can’t you understand that my honor is at stake here? I will find something of little importance to relay to Kenric, to appease him.”
