The Maiden and Her Knight (26 page)

“Even if I did believe you, what proof have you?”

They had come to it at last—the one thing that could make Richard disregard all that he had said, or spur him to action if his offer was accepted. “I have no proof except my word, and my willingness to put my accusations to a test in a trial by combat, my sword against DeFrouchette's.”

Richard frowned and Connor could scarcely breathe as the king spoke. “If you triumph, you will have the lady, and all the wealth that goes with her—and that means power. I may be exchanging one enemy for another.”

Dismay and desperation overcame the need for
caution. “Yes, but sire, if I do not speak the truth, surely God will let DeFrouchette be the victor.”

“Let me finish!” Richard snapped, his eyes blazing with a fire all too familiar.

Flushed and remorseful, fearing his impulsive outburst had been a disastrous error, Connor sat back in his chair.

“God's ways are mysterious, Connor, or we would be having this conversation in Jerusalem. You come to me with no proof save your own conviction and ask me to trust you, even though you admit you want the bride of one of those you accuse. What am I to make of that?”

Connor slipped from his chair and knelt before his king. There was one more thing he could offer to prove that he spoke honestly. One more chance to save Allis from DeFrouchette.

“My liege, I have always been a man of honor and integrity, not greed and ambition. I think that in your heart, you know this to be true. I beg you to let God judge the truth of my accusations. If you do, and if I live and Rennick DeFrouchette dies, I give you my solemn promise before God that I will not marry Lady Allis of Montclair.”

 

Rennick regarded Oswald warily as the older man rode beside him at the head of their cortege. Oswald had suggested it would be a good idea for the people of Montclair to see him in public with that sullen brat, Edmond, to reinforce his position as guardian of Montclair.

But it was now clear that Oswald wanted to speak with him in relative privacy, away from the castle with its disgruntled servants. “What do you mean, he isn't there?” he asked.

“He didn't go,” Oswald answered. “He never arrived. How much plainer can I make it? My estate steward hasn't seen hide or hair of that Welshman, and he's had more than enough time to get there.”

“Maybe he hurt his shoulder again. Or maybe he decided to go back to Wales after all. Maybe he's lying dead somewhere—God willing.”

Oswald shook his head. “You really must learn to look beyond your own wounded vanity, Rennick. Connor could be a very valuable weapon against the king.”

“He's such a hotheaded fool, maybe he's already gone after Richard. Maybe he's on the road to Westminster right now.”

“I would like to hope so, yet I would rather be certain. A bit premature for my other plans, but Richard dead is Richard dead. Now or later makes only a little difference.”

“And if he hasn't?”

“Then we'll have to find another man with a grudge against the king. That shouldn't be too difficult.” Oswald glanced back at Edmond riding between two of Rennick's personal guards. “What do you make of the young earl's silence?”

“He's sulking, like a babe. Once I have married his sister and he is my squire, he'll come around.”

“Or he could be nursing a fierce bitterness, like your son in France, that could prove very harmful to you one day. Take care it is not so.”

Rennick clenched his jaw. “I didn't think you knew about Alexander.”

Oswald chuckled, a most unpleasant sound. “Oh, come, come, Rennick! I make it my business to find out things about my friends as well as my enemies. Natu
rally I have learned all about you and the young lady you seduced and abandoned once she was with child. I know you have seen the boy but once, although he is nearly twenty. I also know, Baron, that he hates you with a passion.”

Rennick really didn't care. “He's only a bastard.”

“Bastards have a very inconvenient habit of causing trouble. I would get rid of the fellow if I were you. One less thing for you to worry about.” Oswald eyed Rennick with a sly, malicious glee. “He is the spitting image of you, you know.”

No, he didn't know, but he didn't care about that either, any more than he did about the boy's mother. She was no proud, disdainful beauty like Allis, whose conquest would be an exciting victory.

Allis in his bed. He had thought of little else these past three days as she lay in that dark cell in the armory. Soon, she would be freed to take her place in his bed, where surely she would be very willing to please him, in every way. A victory indeed, and the just reward for all his patience.

“I would also suggest you take care how you deal with Edmond de Montclair. He is, after all, the heir to a great estate.”

Edmond the brat, who looked at him with Allis's eyes and hateful expression. He cared even less about Edmond than he did about his bastard. “If he lives to inherit.”

“I've been giving that some thought, Rennick, and I believe he should. You can strip the estate of what is valuable between now and then. I would also suggest you educate the lad in the finer points of debauchery, which I understand you know so well.”

Yes, he did, and Allis was going to learn all the
ways he liked to be pleasured, whether she wanted to or not.

“If he is a drunken, lascivious lout and an embarrassment to the other nobles, no one will care very much what happens to him, except his sisters. A few years of patience, and then Montclair may be legally and truly yours.”

At last. At last.

Oswald slid Rennick another sidelong glance of malignant merriment. “Of course, Allis remains a bit of a problem. I think you were wise not to invite any guests to the wedding. Who can say what a woman like that, driven to desperation, might do?”

“She will be tamed, my lord.”

“You sound very confident.”

Rennick thought of the dark, dank hole in which she had been imprisoned. “I am.”

F
ootsteps. Boots coming down the stairs. Her legs weak and trembling from hunger as well as fear, Allis tried to stand. She braced herself against the wall, determined to stay on her feet and face whoever came to fetch her.

The door opened, and Rennick stepped into the chamber.

Rennick the cruel. Rennick the wolf, the snake, the rat, the worm. Rennick the fool, who had left her for days with nothing to do but think. To compare him to Connor. To decide what she must do.

He coughed and held his hand over his face. “Time to go, my lady. The priest awaits to make us husband and wife, once you have washed and put on a clean gown.”

Keeping her back against the stones for support, she
swallowed, trying to wet her throat to speak. “Does he know that the bride is unwilling?”

“Father Duncan is a very ambitious fellow determined to build a new cathedral on my estate. I have agreed to give him land for the cathedral, and he has agreed to marry us.”

Filled with hate and scorn, she curled her lip. Of course a man like Rennick would find someone willing to do what he wanted for the right price. Men like her beloved and honest Connor were an even rarer breed than she had suspected.

Rennick held out his hand to her. “Now come. I should think you would be ready to leave this place.”

She crossed her arms. “I would gladly stay here for the rest of my life than marry you.”

He laughed harshly and the cold, heartless sound echoed off the slimy walls. “No, you wouldn't. A few more days starvation, you would be glad to do anything for me, with or without benefit of clergy, if it got you out of here.”

If she could have, she would have spit in his face. As it was, she stood her ground and glared at him.

“If you try anything to prevent our marriage today, my lady, I will lock you in here and I will not return until I am good and ready. So come along, Allis. You need to prepare to be married.” He yanked her forward, making her stumble. “Do I have to carry you?”

She drew herself up and, with what strength she could muster, pulled her arm from his grasp. “Don't touch me.”

“Proud even now,” he sneered as she passed him. “Proud as a highborn lady should be, but more foolishly stubborn than most. Very well, my lady, hold
your haughty head high. We shall see how long it takes to break you—and I
will
break you.”

She didn't reply to his boastful words. Let him talk all he wished, or strike her. She had her plan, one that would free all those she loved. And all it would cost was her life.

Despite her firm resolve, her steps faltered. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live—to be Connor's wife, to bear his children in peace. What had she said to Connor that first night? That we all had burdens to bear? Right now, hers seemed like the weight of the world.

But she must bear it, and not weaken, even if she could never be with Connor again. If he heard of what she had done, she hoped he would be proud of her, and their love.

Rennick behind her like the shadow of death, she made her way up the steps, into what seemed light as bright as heaven would be. A strange euphoria took her, like a contentment. Soon, everyone would be free, and that was worth her life.

They reached the main floor of the armory and Attila was not there. There were so many weapons, and so close by! If she could but get hold of one, even as weak as she was—

Rennick anticipated her thoughts and walked close beside her as they went outside. With frightened expressions, the servants surreptitiously watched as they passed. They could not help her, for if the baron could make the lady of Montclair suffer as he did, it did not take much to imagine what he would do to servants who tried to interfere.

The strange sensation of being in the world yet not
of it lasted as he took her through the hall and up to her bedchamber. A tub of water for bathing stood ready. Her finest gown of white silk lined with gold and a girdle of gilded leather lay upon the bed.

Rennick shoved her into the room. She fell forward, putting her hands out to break the fall; her palms slapped the hard, unyielding stone with nearly the same force as her kneecaps. Pain leaped and bit, but she ignored it as she struggled to her feet. She would not be on her knees in Rennick's presence. “Make her ready.”

Who was he talking to?

Rennick slammed the door behind him. She raised her head, and only then saw Isabelle and Merva, who hurried to help her.

“Oh, Allis!” Isabelle cried, tears coming to her eyes.

She patted Isabelle's arm gently as her gaze anxiously scanned her sister. She was well dressed, and although she was pale and upset, did not look ill treated. “You are well?”

“In body, yes, but we have been so worried about you! He wouldn't tell us anything, that viper, and only Attila was allowed in the armory. Are you hurt?”

“A little. Is there water? Or bread?”

“Not here, my lady, my lamb, but never you fear,” Merva said. “I'll fetch some right quick. That blackguard never said nothing about that, and the cook likes me right well, so orders or no, I'll get it.” She hurried to the door and put her hand on the latch, then looked back over her shoulder, contrite and sad. “Forgive me what I said before, my lady. About disgracing your family. You're the finest, bravest creature on God's good earth.” With a sob, she opened the door and ran out.

Although Merva's condemning remark had been
far from her mind, the woman's words pleased her, and made her feel a little stronger as Isabelle led her to the bed.

“Can you sit, or do you want to lie down?” Isabelle asked gently.

“I can sit. Indeed, I shall stand, and you can help me out of these clothes. Then into the tub. The warm water will help ease the aches in my limbs.”

With a nod, Isabelle began to help her remove her soiled scarf and barbette.

“Edmond—how is he?”

“He is well.”

She caught the hint of fear in Isabelle's voice, and another dread slid into her heart. “Has the baron hurt him?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Isabelle hastened to assure her as she untied the lacing of her gown. “It's just that he barely says a word, even to me.”

She was not surprised by that. “Much has happened, and he is young to comprehend it all.”

“It's more than that, Allis. He's changed. He hardly seems like a boy anymore.”

“As you are not a girl anymore. I did my best to spare you, and instead only made things worse.”

“You mustn't think like that! I shouldn't have told you, but Edmond's almost…almost like Father.”

Oh, God help her, she had hurt them both, far more than she had ever imagined she could. And they were not the only ones. “Has there been word of Connor?” she asked, voicing the other great worry that had haunted her all the long, dark hours of her captivity.

“No. We have heard nothing.”

“Thank God!” It was as she had hoped and prayed.
Rennick would surely have come to gloat if they had him in their power.

“Do you know where he might have gone? We could send him a message—”

“No, I don't, and it is better if we do not. Otherwise, Rennick and Oswald may discover his whereabouts, too, and harm him. I have already caused enough trouble to my loved ones. I will prevent what I can. Is Oswald here still?”

“Yes, but something happened yesterday that upset him. A messenger came, and he was obviously displeased by whatever news he brought. Auberan says he thought the messenger was from Lord Oswald's estate.”

“I dearly hope some part of his clever plan has gone awry!” As she removed her shift, she slid Isabelle a questioning glance. “And Auberan?”

Isabelle's eyes flashed with anger. “Still here. Still trying to convince me that he cares for me, but he doesn't. He's just doing what Lord Oswald tells him, like a child.”

Relieved that Isabelle knew not to trust that young man, she walked to the steaming tub and carefully slid into the warm, soothing water. It surrounded and embraced her, and made her feel almost human again. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and let herself enjoy the sensation, for it was almost like being in Connor's arms.

Merva barged into the room like a force of nature. “'Ere I am, back with food and some nice cool water.”

“Give it to me here,” she requested.

With a nod, Merva obeyed.

Allis ate and drank, feeling the life returning to her
limbs, energy to her body, and strength to her determined heart. When she was finished, she rose from the tub and wrapped a large square of linen about her body. “Merva, please leave me alone with my sister.”

Merva's brow furrowed at the calm tone of Allis's voice, then she glanced from sister to sister, and left when Isabelle nodded her acquiescence.

She put on the clean silk shift Isabelle gave her, then the gown. “What are you going to do?” Isabelle finally asked after she had tied the bodice lacings for her.

“I'm going to marry Rennick.”

Isabelle gasped. “
What?
”

Poor Isabelle…but this was how it must be. “I will go through with the ceremony. I will do as he commands me, until the day I get my hands on a knife. And then I will kill him.”

How very simple it sounded. How very simple it was.

“You'll be accused of murder!”

“I expect so. And convicted, too, I should think.”

“Allis!”

Isabelle was so young. But she had been younger than Isabelle when their mother had died, and Isabelle had the makings of a fine and worthy chatelaine of Montclair. She could die knowing that Edmond would have Isabelle to watch over and protect him, as he would Isabelle when he was of age.

“If I could conceive of another way for all my loved ones to be free, I would do it,” she said, certain of her course. “But I cannot. This is the only way I can be sure that you do not have to live in fear of Rennick.” She reached out to cradle Isabelle's horrified face between her palms. “So we must be a little patient, but one day,
you will be free. I want you to promise me that you will do your best to look after Edmond.”

Isabelle fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Allis!”

She bent down and gently pried them apart so that she could look into Isabelle's eyes. “Promise me.”

“I do. Of course I do!”

She let go of her and smiled. “Then I am content.”

Yet even as she spoke, they heard the sounds of a mounted party coming through the gate and into the courtyard.

Isabelle rose and ran to the window.

Allis wanted to follow, but fear weakened her knees and she could only stagger to the bed, holding on to the large post at the foot of it.

Despite her prayers, it might not be Connor, or anyone coming to her aid. It might be guests Rennick had invited to the wedding.

Isabelle whirled around and stared at Allis, her eyes wide, her expression both astonished and jubilant. “It's Connor—and the king!”

Joy, relief and hope exploded in her as she stumbled toward the window. Yes, there he was, riding beside a man in a scarlet surcoat marked with three golden lions and wearing the crowned helmet of the king of England. Behind them rode the king's guard, pennants flapping and harnesses jingling, as they entered the courtyard of Montclair.

Wonderful, beloved Connor! He must have gone to Richard, the one person with the power to defeat Rennick's plans. Her gaze lingered on Connor, drinking in the blessed sight of him. He was dressed in knightly apparel, and bareheaded, so that his long, waving, beautifully savage hair fluttered in the breeze.

“Come, Isabelle, we must go to him!” she cried, her voice, like her love and her hope, given new life.

She dashed from the chamber and, hiking up her skirt, ran down the stairs, then through the hall past astonished servants. She came to a halt when she went out the door and nearly collided with Rennick, who had gone down on one knee as the king dismounted. By this time, most of the servants had got wind of the king's arrival and come to the courtyard, where they milled about, curious and uncertain.

She bowed to the king, but she kept her head raised so that she could look at Connor, her love, her life.

How tired he looked! Strain, weariness and pain were etched in his brow and around his mouth. His shoulder probably ached from his journey. Going to Richard had not been easy for him in so many ways, and if she had needed any proof of his devotion, this would have been more than enough. She would gladly return that devotion all the rest of her life.

He stared at her, too, as if equally desperate for the sight of her. But he did not smile.

A quaking sliver of dread touched her happy heart.

Perhaps it was only that he dare not look too joyous because things were not yet resolved. Yet they would—must be, or else why was he here with Richard?

Oswald the betrayer strode out of the kitchen and bowed to Richard. “Greeting, sire.”

Attired in his finest clothes, Edmond approached the royal party. There was no longer any hint of boyish innocence or even excitement in her brother's features as he, too, bowed to the king. Only days ago, he would have been fairly dancing with glee to meet Richard.

“I bid you welcome to Montclair, my liege,” he said.

Tall and broad-shouldered, handsome and commanding, every inch the warrior king, Richard acknowledged Edmond's obeisance with an inclination of his head. She could see why a man might follow him into battle, and how a man would be disappointed to learn Richard was a fallible, mortal man—even more shocked and disillusioned than she had been by Oswald's betrayal, for she had not left home and family to fight with the promise that it was a chivalrous undertaking for the glory of God.

“You must be Edmond, the son of the late earl of Montclair.”

“He is, sire,” Rennick said, stepping beside Edmond and putting a possessive arm around his shoulder. “This is my ward.”