Love Everlasting, page 26
“Aye,” Michael said. “So is Brian. We had an easy ride to Northampton.”
She didn’t think they’d had an easy ride at all, but she had just spotted Royce, so she let the subject of Michael’s heroic journey drop for the moment. She’d make time later for the full story.
“Dear heaven,” she whispered, gathering the obvious conclusion from the scene below, “does Royce really mean to fight Kenric here and now?”
“He has little choice,” Michael answered. “Kenric challenged him, calling you a traitor.”
“I can’t let him do this!” Julianna tried to push past Michael, but he stood firm, blocking her passage. “Michael, let me pass. I have to stop them. Kenric won’t fight fairly. He doesn’t know the meaning of fairness, or of chivalry.”
“Oh, he knows the meaning,” Michael drawled, sounding as if a life and death fight was of no concern. “He just ignores any rules he doesn’t like. Royce knows well enough what he has to deal with in Kenric.”
“Royce cannot risk his life for me,” Julianna insisted. “I won’t allow it.”
“You cannot stop it. The matter has gone too far. Besides, Royce may think you are worth the risk.”
“No, he doesn’t.” She whispered the words and when Michael didn’t respond, she assumed he hadn’t heard her. Or perhaps he was just too engrossed in the duel that was beginning below.
Royce was a full head taller than Kenric, and finely muscled and strong. Kenric was squarely built, with bulky shoulders and arms. Julianna had seen him practice a few times and she recalled how he swung his sword like a cudgel, and how he gave no quarter, not even during practice. He had maimed a few opponents who had imagined they were only playing at battle.
Kenric began the fight with Royce in his usual way, by employing his weight and bulk to aim the edge of his blade at Royce’s arms in repeated attempts to disable him as quickly as possible. So deadly was Kenric’s long, deliberate swing that Julianna feared he’d lop off Royce’s arms or hands.
But what Royce lacked in bulk he made up in skill and speed, and in his quick wits. Julianna had seen swordplay many times, during tournaments or daily practices, so she quickly perceived what Royce’s strategy was. Kenric was already tired after the battle to get into Wortham, and Royce was allowing him to tire himself still more with unproductive blows that either landed on Royce’s shield or else missed altogether when Royce leapt out of the way at the last possible moment.
Kenric didn’t seem to understand what was happening, for he repeatedly overbalanced himself. Royce took full advantage of Kenric’s mistakes, aiming hard blows from the flat of his sword to Kenric’s body, though he did not strike to wound badly, or to kill.
“Why doesn’t Royce just end it?” Julianna gasped after one particularly telling stroke that nearly laid Kenric flat on the ground.
“He wants Kenric beaten beyond any question or doubt,” Michael explained, “but he also wants Kenric left alive when the fight’s over, so he’ll be able to talk. Kenric has information that Royce needs.”
“That’s a dangerous way to fight,” Baldwin remarked from Julianna’s other side, where he had quietly joined the little group at the top of the steps. “It’s much easier just to kill an opponent outright.”
“Aye,” Michael agreed. “Not many men would dare attempt such a victory.”
“Oh, Royce,” Julianna whispered, “take care. Don’t let - oh, dear heaven, what a blow!” Knowing that a momentary distraction could mean a swordsman’s death, she covered her mouth with both hands to prevent her scream from emerging as Kenric took an unchivalrous whack at Royce’s midsection. Baldwin’s hand on Julianna’s right shoulder steadied her when she swayed in alarm. Royce brought his shield up just in time to protect himself from being cut in two.
The end came suddenly, in a flurry of slashing blows too rapid for Julianna’s eyes to follow. Kenric was on his knees and Royce lowered his sword just an inch or two. He bent down and said something to Kenric, apparently asking if he would give up the fight. Kenric bowed his head as if in surrender and gripped the hilt of his sword in both hands in a way that suggested he was about to offer it to Royce.
“No,” Julianna whispered, fearing Kenric’s treacherous nature. “Royce, don’t trust him, not for an instant.”
The softly uttered words were barely out of her mouth when Kenric, who was still kneeling, swung at Royce in a vicious, two-handed swipe meant to amputate or maim his legs.
Julianna was close to shrieking aloud from terror for Royce’s sake. She wanted to look away, yet she could not tear her gaze from the spectacle. Thus, she saw how Royce neatly and rather casually jumped over Kenric’s sweeping blade as if he’d been expecting the blow. Then, while Kenric’s arms were still in motion, Royce jammed the pommel of his sword hard against his opponent’s chin.
Kenric went down flat on his face and lay still. Complete silence followed, while the onlookers took a moment to draw breath and to begin to comprehend what had just happened. Then a raucous cheer went up, as men who’d been on both sides of the siege acknowledged Royce’s victory over a false knight who fought so unfairly that no honest person could want him to win.
Shouting like a pair of youthful squires, Michael and Baldwin left Julianna’s side and ran down the stairs to join Royce. At the foot of the stairs, Brian embraced Michael, who pounded on the boy’s back until he doubled over, laughing.
Meanwhile, down in the bailey former enemies were shaking hands. Kenric’s siege companions, the lords Othmar and Edmund, handed over their swords to two tall young noblemen whom Julianna did not know. Cadwallon issued a command, and two men-at-arms came forward to lift the stupefied Kenric to his feet and bind his hands behind him.
Julianna observed all of this from the corners of her vision, for her primary attention was on Royce. He sheathed his sword, pushed back his coif, and turned toward the stairs to the keep.
He saw Julianna at the top of the stairs and halted for just a heartbeat. Then he mounted slowly, his gaze locked on hers, his grey-green eyes shining. His red-gold hair was matted with sweat and his face was begrimed. Still, to Julianna, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen and her heart melted at the undaunted strength of him.
She longed to fall into his arms, but they had parted in furious anger and at his command. Perhaps he was still angry with her. Perhaps he blamed her for the siege, as she blamed herself. In addition, so many people were watching their meeting and she did not want to embarrass him by showing her emotions in public. She fell back upon the formal manners that had seen her through many other difficult situations in her life.
“Welcome home, my lord,” she said, offering her hand.
Royce lifted her fingers to his lips, then looked at the white bandage wrapped around her upper arm.
“You are injured,” he said, drawing her closer, his free hand at her waist. She breathed in the smells of male sweat, of horse, of overheated metal armor, and the ineffable green and woody scent that belonged to Royce alone.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “A mere arrow prick.”
He smiled at her, a wide, delighted smile that warmed her heart and gave her hope. She was sure he intended to kiss her. She’d kiss him back, and put her arms around his neck, and she’d ignore all the folk in the bailey who were doubtless staring at them. And perhaps she wouldn’t wait until they were alone to tell him that she loved him.
A sudden cry from the main gate had Royce setting her aside and rushing back down the steps and across the bailey. Julianna waited, hands clasped at her bosom, fearing some new attack. She could see the anxiety on the faces below her. Cadwallon’s loud voice provided the answer they all wanted to hear.
“It’s our supply wagons, catching up with us at last!” Cadwallon shouted, laughing. “They’re bringing food enough for everyone: flour for bread, wheels of cheese, chickens and rabbits, pickled herring, wine and ale, and several cows ready for milking to feed the babies.”
Julianna discovered that she could stay upright no longer. Nor was she strong enough to prevent the tears from running down her cheeks. All the competing and sternly repressed emotions of the last few weeks overcame her until she retained barely strength enough to stumble into the hall, where she sank onto a bench.
Etta found her there a short time later. As if they were dear friends instead of mistress and servant, Etta put her arms around Julianna and held her while she wept out her relief. The tears didn’t last long. When Julianna heard the heavy footsteps of armed men on the stairs she lifted her head and wiped her face with one hand, and then she stood to greet her lord and husband as he entered his great hall in triumph.
Royce made short work of his enemies. Lords Othmar and Edmund, along with their primary lieutenants were consigned to the castle dungeon, to be held there until it was convenient for Royce to have them escorted to Northampton to be judged by King Henry. Since they had betrayed their liege lord, their most likely sentence was death by hanging, drawing and quartering, but in the meantime they would be treated decently. Julianna, who had inspected the dungeons shortly after coming to Wortham and had found them remarkably clean and dry, thought the treacherous lords were getting better than they deserved.
The ordinary fighting men of the besieging army, all the simple knights and men-at-arms and the foot soldiers, were sent to their encampment in the fields with orders to be gone by noon of the following day.
“Bury your dead in the village cemetery, then return directly to your homes,” Royce told them. “There you are to await word from King Henry, who will confiscate the lands of your former liege lords and hand them over to more loyal nobles. After that happens, you will have the opportunity to swear fealty to the new lords. The king is not likely to punish ordinary men who have merely obeyed their sworn oaths. But I will not allow you to continue to camp on Wortham lands for more than a single day.”
“My lord,” one knight protested, “we have wounded among us, men who cannot ride.”
“You also have carts in which to lay them,” Royce said. “You must fend for yourselves. I owe you nothing. You have ruined Wortham land, broken down my castle walls, killed some of my people and wounded others, and you’ve eaten well from the deer and the fowl in my forest. But I will let you depart without punishment if you go promptly, and in peace.”
Royce’s next immediate task was to see to the repair of the main gates and the breach in the south wall. After inspecting those areas and deciding that work should begin at dawn, he posted extra sentries for the night.
“The outer defenses must be repaired first,” he said as he re-entered the great hall along with Cadwallon and several other men, including the two nobles whom Julianna had noticed previously. “Once the walls and the gates are secure, I’ll see to the inside of Wortham.”
“My lord,” Julianna spoke up, refusing to be ignored any longer, “the fields need to be replowed and replanted as soon as possible. I trust you’ve brought seed with you? If not, we can easily obtain it from Craydon. With luck and good weather this summer, we may yet gather in a fair harvest.
“Of more urgent importance,” she added, “our dead must be buried quickly, before a pestilence develops. Father Aymon will tell you how we’ve been storing bodies in the crypt for weeks now. I’m sure you realize how unhealthy that arrangement is.”
Royce’s gaze rested on her face for long moments, and she could not begin to guess what he was thinking. When he spoke, it was abruptly and his words bore no apparent connection to any of her remarks.
“You have not met my son and son-in-law,” he said, beckoning forward the two tall young men and presenting them.
Braedon, the baron of Sutton, who was married to Royce’s daughter, Catherine, was very handsome, with dark, curly hair and an engaging manner. At once Julianna liked his easy humor and his boyish smile.
Royce’s son, Arden, lord of Bowen Manor, was a different matter. When Royce introduced him, Arden greeted Julianna with the same sort of cool formality that she employed in unpleasant situations. Arden’s pale blue eyes, which were the exact shade of ice in midwinter, regarded her from a hard, narrow face. With his sharp cheekbones and straight black hair, he was so physically different from Royce that Julianna realized he must resemble his mother. She saw no warmth in Arden and no humor, either, so she chose to be blunt.
“I have no wish to take your mother’s place,” she told him. “From what I’ve heard of Lady Avisa, no one ever could. But for your father’s sake, for his peace and comfort, I hope that you and I will not be enemies.”
“Only time can decide that,” Arden said.
“I would like to meet your wife,” she suggested, venturing a smile.
“Margaret is with child and cannot travel just now,” he said.
“Very well, Arden.” She struggled to maintain her smile. “Take your time.”
Arden bowed and walked away, and suddenly Julianna felt very tired. She wondered how long it would be before she dared suggest to Royce that they retire to the lord’s chamber.
She saw Alice embracing William and noticed how they whispered together before they left the hall, headed in the direction of their own room, and her heart ached with loneliness. She wanted Royce’s arms around her in the same tender, familiar way in which William’s arms had gone around Alice - if only Royce would forgive her many sins and embrace her.
Royce’s next command drove all tender thoughts from her mind and made her forget her need for rest.
“Bring Kenric to me,” Royce ordered one of his men-at-arms. “I will see him in Sir Michael’s office. My lady, you will join us.”
He held out a hand to Julianna. She dared not refuse to place her hand in his, lest he judge her guilty of some new misdeed. With his fingers wrapped firmly around hers, he escorted her to the chamber where Michael worked.
Alice had once referred to the room as the scriptorium, as if it were part of a monastery, and Julianna had laughed and agreed. Books and scrolls, unused leaves of parchment in baskets, scraps of parchment sliced from the edges of those leaves to make them more regular in size and then saved for short notes, a wax tablet and stylus, ink jars and quill pens, several slates with rough pieces of chalk hewn from the cliffs of southern England, filled the room, but all were kept in scrupulous order.
A long trestle table sat beneath the single window. A chair with arms was drawn up to the table, so the light would fall over the writer’s shoulder. These two pieces and a stool in front of the table were all the furniture. Royce took the chair and motioned Julianna toward the stool.
“I prefer to stand,” she said.
“As you wish.” Royce gave a shrug that she interpreted as indifference.
She had expected Cadwallon and Michael to join them, but she was disconcerted to see Arden and Braedon also enter the room. Wanting to put a bit of distance between herself and Arden, she went to stand at one end of the table. From that position she could observe both Royce and Kenric, yet she wouldn’t appear to intrude upon the business conducted by the men.
Kenric had been divested of his armor and given water so he could wash. He entered wearing a slightly damp woolen tunic and displaying the air of sullen defiance that Julianna remembered well from the days when Deane of Craydon was still alive.
“I will begin,” Royce said to him, “by asking what your reason was for besieging Wortham?”
“Julianna knows,” Kenric said. “Ask her.”
“I am asking you.” Royce’s voice was icy cold.
“Why did you subvert the loyalties of Othmar and Edmund?” Cadwallon demanded.
“Ah, well, that’s a simpler matter,” Kenric said. “Both of them are Saxons. Fighting against what they see as Norman oppression is second nature to them.”
“The Norman conquest happened almost sixty years ago,” Cadwallon objected. “Anyway, both Othmar and Edmund willingly took oaths of fealty to King Henry.”
“They swore themselves to Louis of France first.” Kenric’s smile was sly and very nasty.
“In that case, they are doubly foresworn,” Royce stated, “and spies as well as traitors.”
“Well, but a man can only die once.” Kenric’s smile did not waver. “Or a woman,” he added, his sharp gaze falling upon Julianna like the edge of the headsman’s axe.
“You have not answered my question,” Royce said. “Why did you choose to attack Wortham?”
“You call yourself a spy and yet you ask me that?” Kenric mocked. “How can you not know the answer? ‘Twas to punish you and your wife for continually interfering with my plans.”
“What plans?” Royce demanded in the quiet, dangerous voice that Julianna knew well.
“Why, my plan to be rid of Julianna,” Kenric said. “It was really quite clever, and perfectly simple, as all great plans are. I would make a show of attempting to capture Julianna while she and her maid were apparently trying to carry out a treacherous scheme aimed at Queen Adelicia. When Julianna resisted my attempt at capture, which I was certain she would do, I’d have a splendid excuse for killing her. Meanwhile, Marie was to commit the murder and, though she didn’t know it, she would then be killed by my associates. You do realize, don’t you, Royce, that Julianna is all that stands between me and the lands my late Uncle Deane held?”
“I’ve always known you wished me ill, but how could you imagine such a scheme would work?” Julianna gasped. “Kenric, you are truly mad.”
“Indeed he is,” Royce said, “if he imagines King Henry would ever have granted Deane’s estates to him. Kenric, the king is well aware of your devotion to Louis of France. He’d never bestow any lands on you.”
Julianna noticed that Royce did not add that he had married her precisely to keep her vast inheritance out of the hands of men like Kenric. But Kenric didn’t seem to understand that simple fact of royal policy, as his next words proved.
“Deane was going to send a written plea to King Henry, asking him to grant those lands to me,” Kenric insisted. “But, curse him, he put off writing. When I pressed him, he said he was too sick to see to it just then and he’d do it later, when he felt better. Then he died, leaving the letter unwritten, and his entire estate passed through Julianna to you, Royce. I had no choice but to plot Julianna’s ruin and death.”
