Alisoun jumped to her feet, but Osbern moved more quickly. He shoved his chair back and cried, “Dearest!”
She moved to intercept him, but he jumped the table.
David grasped her arm. “Let him go.”
“He’ll hurt her.”
Osbern reached Philippa and gathered her into his arms.
“He isn’t hurting her.”
“Not now.”
After a brief hesitation, Philippa embraced Osbern and buried her face in his chest.
Guy hurried from his place to their sides. “What’s happening?”
“Can’t you see?” David asked. “Osbern found his long-lost wife.”
“Philippa?” Guy paled. “Philippa is married to that lout?”
David nodded. “So it would appear.”
Someone might have been strangling him, so garbled was Guy’s voice. “We must rescue her.”
“She came out on her own,” David said.
“My wife!” Osbern turned Philippa toward the great hall and wiped a tear from his eye. “The wife I thought dead has returned to me. ’Tis a miracle. A miracle!”
Osbern’s men cheered and a smile quivered on Philippa’s lips.
“That’s why he’s been talking so loud,” Alisoun said. “He knew she was hiding here somewhere.”
“Probably.” She tried to move toward them again, but David jerked her so hard he bruised her. “But she made her decision.”
“Of course she came out.” Alisoun could scarcely speak for fear and indignation. “She’s my friend, and he threatened us.”
“I’m not deaf.”
Anguished, Alisoun said, “We can’t let him take her.”
“She made her decision,” David repeated, and he lost patience with her at last. “Do you think we can keep a man from his wife?”
With a groan of defeat, Guy backed away toward the shadows by the stairwell.
David continued relentlessly. “And Osbern’s not just any man. He is the king’s cousin. He’s a great knight.”
“He almost killed her.”
With gestures and smiles, Osbern indicated his delight in recovering his wife. If Alisoun hadn’t known him as a slippery worm, she might have even been convinced.
“If what you told me in the herb garden is true, Philippa is one of the king’s heiresses. Osbern wouldn’t risk the king’s anger by killing her.”
“Oh? He’ll only beat her senseless, and that’s acceptable?” Furious with his stupid, unfeeling logic, Alisoun cried, “And who’s going to know if he kills her? Who’s going to care? The women all know the truth about Osbern, but the men are too stupid or too unsympathetic to notice.”
“Daddy?” Sensitive to the anger and pain in the hall, Bertrade had crept close. “What’s wrong? Why are you fighting?”
“We’re not fighting, sweetling.” David hugged her to his side, but still he kept his grip on Alisoun’s arm. “Your new mama is just going to miss her maid, that’s all.”
“Lady Alisoun…” Edlyn whispered the name as if it were a talisman. No girl who had been betrothed had any business witnessing such a scene, but Alisoun had no tenderness left over with which to comfort her. All Alisoun’s emotions bubbled in a brew of anguish for her dear friend Philippa. For the friend she would never see again.
Philippa and Osbern stood before the table, and Philippa said, “Alisoun? I’m going back with him.”
Turning to David, Alisoun demanded, “Challenge him.”
David flushed ruddy red. “I can’t challenge him.”
“This is what I hired you for. The time has come to earn your wages. Challenge him.”
“It would do no good.”
Osbern chuckled, a sound that slipped and congealed and clogged Alisoun’s desperation. “Don’t you know, my dear? I am the king’s new champion.”
“What do you mean?” Such a stupid question, but Alisoun couldn’t have understood him correctly.
“I mean that your Sir David and I fought before the king, and I defeated Sir David in combat.”
It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible.
But David shook her arm. “I told you I was defeated. You didn’t care. You insisted on hiring me.”
“You never told me.”
“You didn’t identify your enemy. You wouldn’t tell me who tormented you. If you had, my lady, I would have spoken at once. My defeat at the hands of the duke of Framlingford is not easily forgotten.”
So her clever plan had been doomed from the very beginning, and all because she hadn’t investigated properly. She’d fixed her mind on the legendary mercenary Sir David, and now Osbern would take his wife and baby away and no one would fight for her. Helpless rage swelled in Alisoun, and she said to Philippa, “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Philippa said. “You sheltered me, but I’m going back with him now.”
Osbern gloated. “She loves me, Alisoun.”
“I’ll be a better wife to him this time,” Philippa said hastily.
“You were always a good wife.” Alisoun’s voice rasped in her throat.
Osbern continued as if the women had never spoken. “I hold no grudge against you, Sir David. I recognize your wife’s hand in this, and I’ll not bring siege or have the king strip you of the lands for which you labored so desperately—as long as nothing else like this ever happens again.”
“That means much to me.” David acknowledged Osbern’s words as if they were a boon.
“You gilled freak.” Alisoun didn’t even know who she insulted. Then she did. “You worthless traitor.” She’d always known Osbern to be the lowest form of scum, but David…David she had believed in. David she had thought to be truly a legend, and now he sent a woman to her death to hold his land and her wealth.
“I’m doing the right thing,” David said. “Probably for the first time in my life.”
“Let me go.” Alisoun jerked at his grip. “Let me go!” Freeing herself, she ran around the table and knelt at Philippa’s feet. “I promised to keep you safe…I promised, and I failed.”
Lady Edlyn released a stifled sob, and as if that signaled the end of restraint, the other maids began to sniffle.
“Nay.” Philippa touched the top of Alisoun’s head. “Never think so. You are my dearest friend.”
One by one the women in the hall broke down, and Osbern snorted in disgust and called his men. “Come on, we’re going while there’s still daylight to get away from here. Philippa, we’re leaving now.”
He dragged her toward the outer door while Philippa called back, “You didn’t break your promise. Always remember your promise.”
And Alisoun’s eyes, shut tightly against the tears, popped open. The babe. She’d promised to keep the babe from harm, too, and Philippa was now leaving—without Hazel. Osbern must have forgotten about her in his triumph.
But David didn’t remember the babe, either. He just couldn’t bear the sobbing. He couldn’t believe the phalanx of female eyes that glared at him so disdainfully. Even his dear friend Guy of the Archers, the comrade who knew David’s trials, stared at David with a most peculiar distaste.
Mostly, he couldn’t sit there and look at Alisoun, a dazed and battered expression on her face, kneeling on the floor before the place where her friend had stood.
“And I sure as hell don’t trust that bastard to leave without trouble,” he muttered to himself as he jumped to his feet and followed Osbern, his men, and his wife out the door.
The afternoon sun had burned its way through the clouds and David squinted at the tangle of men around his stable. Roger swayed in the saddle, the lump on his head closing one eye, while the rest of them mocked him. The growl of their voices reached David clearly, as did Osbern’s command. “Just do as I tell you and ride. I have what I came for.”
He mounted his charger and pulled Philippa up before him, settling her without cruelty. Indeed, he played the role of loving husband well, for Philippa smiled tremulously when he circled her waist with his arm.
David found relief in the display. After all, Alisoun could be wrong. Mayhap Osbern had been a little rough with Philippa and the woman had run crying to Alisoun. Mayhap Philippa was like David’s first wife, given to exaggeration, and Alisoun had taken a whisper of pain and turned it into a shout. His first wife had been like that. So all women must be like that.
Osbern’s voice rang out over the jangle of tack and his men’s shouting. “Philippa? Where’s the babe?”
The babe. David staggered back against the wall. Where was Philippa’s babe?
The sounds of their leave-taking died, and everyone stared at Osbern and Philippa.
“She died, Osbern.” Philippa’s eyes glistened with tears, but her voice sounded strong and true. “I was weaning her and she got the fever and…she died.”
“A real fever this time?” Osbern caught sight of David and prodded his stallion to a brief gallop, then jerked him to an abrupt halt in front of the stairs. “My long-lost wife says our child has died. Tell me, Sir David, is this true?”
Sunshine seemed to dim as David stared at Osbern, so smug and triumphant, and at his wife, pleading and contrite. Firmly, without a hint of indecision, he lied. “Your daughter died but two weeks ago. We all mourn her death.”
Nothing about Philippa changed, but David felt her gratitude like a reproach.
“’Tis a shame, indeed.” Osbern’s eyes gleamed. “But that babe was young and only a girl child. We can always make another child.”
Philippa winced.
Shaking her shoulder, Osbern asked, “Can’t we, Philippa?”
Obediently, she replied. “Indeed, my lord, we can.”
“You did what was right, Sir David, never doubt it.” Osbern lifted his hand in farewell, and at that moment, David saw it.
A gold ring, a long oval, with the crest of Osbern’s family etched into the metal.
A ram. The duke of Framlingford’s crest, David knew, was a ram.
He stared at that ring. The bright yellow burned into his brain.
Osbern rode away. His men followed him. The bailey quieted once more.
And still David saw that ring.
Fingering the latch, he opened the door and stumbled inside the keep. The passage to the great hall seemed darker than usual. The noises the servants made clearing away dinner seemed far away and alien.
That ring. That damned ring.
Not even Osbern could have done that to a baby. To an infant. Hazel had not been even a month old when Philippa had fled from Osbern. But Philippa, that adoring mother, had abandoned her child to go with her husband. What other reason could she have than to protect her babe?
The stones rasped his fingers as he groped along the wall. Agony rasped his mind as he groped toward the truth.
Had Osbern taken his signet ring, heated it, and branded the babe on the tender skin of Hazel’s rump? Would he be so perverted, so twisted, so cruel?
The opening to the great hall yawned before David. He wanted to be with Alisoun. He needed to comfort her, to wipe that lost expression from her face. He needed to talk to her, to discover the truth and deal with it as he could. He needed guidance, and Alisoun would be the one to give it to him.
But first one manservant hurried past him holding a pile of unwashed dishes, and he spoke not a word to his master. Then a maid hurried past him holding a wad of dirty clothing, and another holding a pile of soiled linen. He might not have been there, for all the interest he generated.
Mayhap he longed to be elsewhere so fervently he had made himself disappear. Absently, he touched his face. He was here, though. Wishing hadn’t changed that.
As soon as he stepped into the great hall, he realized the busy servants formed only the edge of a whirlwind. In here, activity spun in ever-widening circles. At the center of the whirlwind stood Alisoun, trunks gaping open all around her.
Did she feel bruised and tattered by the pain of losing Philippa? If so, she showed no evidence of it now. The Alisoun he’d first met had returned: controlled, determined, in charge. As he listened, he heard her direct her maids to pack her trunks for travel, and slowly he digested the fact that she planned to depart.
Depart. Striding forward, he loudly demanded, “Where do you think you are going?”
For one brief moment, the movement in the great hall faltered. Then once again it commenced, more quickly, more emphatically, and everyone, it seemed, pointedly ignored his presence.
Everyone except Alisoun.
“I’m leaving,” she said.
“Leaving.”
“I hired you to keep me and my people safe, and this you failed to do. I have no use for you now.”
The maid who hauled her night soil got more respect than she gave him. Worse, he feared he deserved her contempt, and the faint curl of inner shame translated itself into ire. “You forget, madam, that you are my wife.”
She stood without moving, her hands curled loosely at her sides. “Try as hard as I can, I can’t forget that.”
She made him so angry! All calm disdain while he seethed with questions and dread. In as nasty a tone as he could forge, he asked, “What if I don’t let you go?”
“But you’re so good at letting people go.” She spoke without expression, but somehow she made her opinion of him clear. “Look how well you did with Philippa.”
He strode forward, furious at the implied accusation of cowardice. “What would you have me do? Let Osbern destroy my family to protect her?”
“Your family?” Alisoun laughed lightly. “What about your lands, the wealth which I brought you? Shouldn’t you mention your anxiety for them?”
“I worked hard for what I have.” Dismayed by his own defensiveness, he tried to explain. “I have the right to want to protect it.”
That destroyed her equanimity. Fists clenched, eyes sparking, Alisoun said, “Aye, and be damned to the life destroyed when you do.”
His fury rose to meet hers. “Who are you to so criticize me? A stiff, humorless, former spinster without a drop of love in your veins to sweeten your disposition.”
Her momentary spark faded. “None at all,” she agreed.
Her restraint only made him madder, and he lashed out. “I only married you because I felt sorry for you.”
“And for the money,” she reminded him. “Let’s not forget the money.”
“Damn the money.” He meant it, too. “And damn you!” That he didn’t mean, but the words had been spoken and he couldn’t call them back.
The slight tremble of her lips, the downward tilt of her brows—aye, on her face for those with eyes to see was evidence of her anguish. “I have broken a vow I made before God—to protect Philippa. So I am damned, if that gives you pleasure.”
“You made a vow before God to obey me, too.” He expected her to defend herself, but Alisoun surprised him.
She declared her independence. “What is one more broken vow?”
“You hold our wedding vows invalid?”
“I hold them as unimportant.” Lady Edlyn came out of the solar, holding Hazel, and Alisoun held out her arms for her. “I suppose we should be grateful you didn’t remember the babe, or Osbern would have another helpless soul to torment.”
“Nay!” But no one had heard him lie to save Hazel, and who among these accusers would believe him if he told them?
Alisoun still handled Hazel as if she were some foreign creature, but David thought Alisoun needed that child’s comfort right now more than the child needed Alisoun’s.
“I’ll send you an allowance every month,” Alisoun said. “George’s Cross will remain my primary residence, and when I’ve settled there you might think about sending Bertrade to me.”
His gaze shifted to his daughter. She sat on her stool, shoulders hunched, knees drawn up, with Alisoun’s kitten in her lap. The gown she’d worn so proudly had twisted sideways until it wrinkled in a tight circle. Guy stood behind her, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the child.
“I offered to take her now, but she doesn’t want to go. She still has an affection for you, of course.”
“Generous of you,” he muttered.
Alisoun dismissed him without a glance and went to Bert. Kneeling beside his daughter, Alisoun spoke softly, petting the cat in Bert’s lap until the creature stretched luxuriously. Smiling with tremulous interest, Bert replied, then with a quick glance at him, her smile faded.
Rising, Alisoun commanded, “Do send her when you can. She deserves a proper upbringing.”
He wanted to argue that she, with her inexperience, couldn’t raise his child properly, but the servants distracted him as they snapped locks on the trunks and bound them with leather straps. This was moving too fast. “You can’t have packed already.”
“You needed almost everything I brought to Radcliffe, so I’m leaving it here. What I have at George’s Cross will suffice me until I can send to market once more.”
Ivo and Gunnewate each hoisted a trunk onto their shoulders and strode past him, paying him less attention than they would a cockroach.
Desperate to halt this relentless procession, David said, “You need protection on the road and these two have already proved themselves unworthy.”
“My men are sufficient for the normal hazards of thief and brigand.” Alisoun allowed Lady Edlyn to help her with her cloak. “No one stalks me now.” With an unladylike snort, she said, “I suppose you could say you have done what you were hired to do. You removed the threat from my life.” She walked past him to the door, her maids trailing after her. There she half-turned. “Good-bye, Sir David. I wish you health, life and happiness in the future.”
“Wait!” He hurried toward her and found his way blocked by a gauntlet of irritated maids. Craning his neck, he called, “What about our child?”
“I will send you word when it is born, and if you wish you may come and visit. Beyond that you have no rights.”