I hated to stay, but what was I to do? That little girl’s world had collapsed on her, and she didn’t really understand why. It wasn’t as if I liked Bert. A stupid, scrawny thing, all scabby knees and big eyes, but she knew her sire had done something dreadfully wrong.
So when Sir David stumbled into the great hall after Lady Alisoun left, only three people remained to face him. Guy of the Archers, Bert, and me. Without waiting for anyone to speak, Sir David demanded, “What did you want me to do? Let Osbern murder Bert and destroy us all?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Guy answered, but he didn’t have to. He made his opinion clear when he moved away from Sir David’s reaching hand.
Sir David hesitated, then his hand dropped. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“If you don’t mind,” Guy said, “I have duties in the south tower with the men. The sewage pond is directly below, but even so the stench seems less intense there.” He walked out of the great hall and we knew when he stepped outside, because he slammed the door so hard the very stones shook.
“Well, damn him, too.” Sir David dropped into his chair and looked around. “Bert! At least you didn’t want to go with her, did you?”
“Nay.” But Bert didn’t sound any too certain, and she leaned over the cat in her lap.
Sir David observed the way she petted the animal, and he snorted. “She even left behind the kitten I gave her.”
“I asked for it.” Bert scratched the kitten under the chin. “It reminds me of my new mama, because it’ll scratch if you try to hurt it but it’s all soft and clean and cuddly if you’re nice.”
Looking wretched, Sir David stared at his daughter.
“Daddy?”
Bert whispered, but Sir David heard her. “What, sweetling?”
“Weren’t you nice to my new mama?”
“I was just sensible. I thought she liked sensible men, but I hazard I was wrong.” His hands curled and uncurled. “What did she say to you?”
“When?”
“When she knelt down and talked before she left?”
“We talked about the kitty’s name,” Bert answered. “She wanted it to have a name so I could tell her about it in the letters we will write.” Picking up the kitten, she rubbed it against her cheek and it purred so loud in that empty room I could hear it. “She liked the name I picked.”
Sir David seemed incapable of speech, so I asked, “What did you name it?”
“It’s black with white, so I named it Clover after one of the cows.” Bert beamed at me through her tangled hair. “Can you remember that?”
“She named the cat.” Sir David rubbed both his temples with his hands, then lifted himself with a roar. “I need ale. Where’s the ale?”
I ran to get it for him, and that was the last coherent sentence we heard from him for the next drought-stricken eight days.
I was glad I stayed for Bert.
Sir David of Radcliffe opened his eyes and stared. This time he knew where he was. Those large, horizontal, treelike objects would soon resolve themselves into the reeds on the floor of his great hall. The fond kisses pressed on his ear were the gifts of his best hunting dog, and the panting that surrounded him was only the pack gathered around him for warmth. He’d woken too many times to the same scene and the same sounds to be mystified by them now.
Groaning, he tried to raise himself off the floor while holding his head in his hands. It didn’t work. Either he could push himself erect or he could hold his head, but he couldn’t do both. And he really needed to sit up, because he was going to puke. “Eudo,” he moaned. “Guy.”
No one answered. Probably they were too disgusted with him to stay in the same room. And why not? He could scarcely stay with himself.
“Bert?”
She was gone, too. Praise God for Eudo. Sir David didn’t remember much, but he knew that Eudo had kept Bert entertained while her father tried to find peace in the bottom of a jug of ale.
Too bad every time he looked into a mug, Alisoun’s face floated there, staring at him.
Of course, it was worse when he closed his eyes. Then he saw poor, pathetic Philippa leaving, the prisoner of her own husband.
Was she still alive?
“Nay!” He flung up his hands to block the thought, and the motion brought up his dinner. Rolling away, he waited until the chamber stopped spinning. He held onto the bench, pulled himself up, and staggered to the door. Flinging it open, he stepped outside and lurched, blinded by the light. The sun hadn’t been so bright and hot since last summer, and it was all the sun’s fault when he missed the first step, caught himself, missed again, and tumbled down the stairs. As he lay in the dry dust at the bottom, he realized that if he hadn’t been so drunk, he would have killed himself.
He wanted to see Bert, explain himself to Guy, and make himself a hero in Eudo’s eyes once more. And in his own eyes, too. It seemed that mattered the most.
Listening, he heard voices, and he hoisted himself to his feet once more and started toward the training yard. He rounded the corner and saw Eudo with his arms around Bert, showing her how to shoot a bow. The sight brought David to a skidding halt.
“Sir David!” Eudo jumped away from Bert guiltily. “I was just showing her…”
Bert stared at Eudo as if he had gone mad, and David realized that while the lad found comfort in holding Bert, Bert thought his embrace nothing but kindness. David said, “Fine. My thanks. You’ve kept her entertained and done her no harm. I won’t forget.” Sitting down on a stump, he waved them on. “Go ahead. Let me see what she’s learned.”
As Eudo helped Bert place her arrow into the bowstring, David remembered that he’d held Alisoun just the same way, demonstrating how to shoot an arrow while absorbing her vitality. Now that vitality had disappeared from his life, and he had no one to blame but himself.
If it had been up to Osbern, he’d never have known what he missed. That worthless poltroon had tried to kill Alisoun before David had even met her. He’d tormented her, beaten Sir Walter, frightened her people, and David had done nothing to avenge her. David could think of little else.
It had taken eight days of trying to justify himself to himself, but now he knew. Alisoun had done what was right, and not what was proper. He had done what was proper, and not what was right. He had sent Philippa back to her husband and possibly to her death, because he was a coward, looking out for himself, fearing the king’s wrath, trying to hang on to his possessions at the cost of his confidence.
He had a lesson to teach Osbern. He’d already learned his own.
“Did you see, Daddy? Did you see?” Bert stuck her face into his and pointed at the target. “I got close!”
“You did!” The arrow quivered in the fence behind the target, and David puffed with pride. “You’re Daddy’s brave girl, and I’m glad, because I’ve got something to tell you. Something to tell everyone at Radcliffe.” He waved Eudo over. “You, too, but where’s Guy?”
The children glanced at each other. “Guy?” Eudo’s gaze slid away. “Why, I believe he had to ride…somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
“Somewhere…else.”
David didn’t need to seek any more explanation. Guy had left Radcliffe.
“Very well,” he said. “Guy is gone, and I’m going, too.”
“You’re going?” Bert, his indomitable Bert, started to cry.
Pulling her onto his lap, David said, “I haven’t really been here since Alisoun left, anyway.”
“I know, but everyone keeps leaving.” Bert put her head on his shoulder and bawled.
David hadn’t known he could feel any worse, but he did now. He petted his daughter and wondered if Eudo would start crying soon. The squire seemed to be struggling with his emotions also, and David found himself explaining his actions to a lad and a lass. “I made a mistake. Now I’m going to go and fix it.”
Bert stopped sobbing and started listening. Eudo tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“I’m going to go get Philippa back from her husband. The only way to do that, I imagine, is to—” he shuddered as he remembered the result of his last challenge, “—kill him.”
He had the complete attention of both children now.
“There’s a good chance I’ll die in the attempt.” He waited to hear Bert’s yell, but she remained mute and he thought perhaps she didn’t understand.
Eudo stammered with excitement. “I’ll prepare and go with you.”
“Go with me?”
“I am your squire.”
“Don’t you understand? I said I might be…” He noticed the eager, quivering tension of the lad, and he hadn’t the heart to finish the sentence. “You are my squire, and I regret leaving you here, but I depend on you for something much more important than passing me my weapons.”
Eudo withered, and David could see his thoughts. His first chance to participate in combat, and David denied him. “What do you require of me, Sir David?”
“It is a mighty quest which I lay on you, and I pray you are worthy of my trust.”
“I’m worthy!”
Speaking slowly and clearly, David said, “Should I not return, I rely on you to take my beloved daughter to George’s Cross, to Lady Alisoun.”
Eudo’s sideways glance at Bert told the tale. He wanted to fight in battle, not babysit a lass.
Taking his shoulder, David leaned close to Eudo’s face and tried to impress him with the importance of this responsibility. “You remember the journey here, Eudo. It was dark and fraught with danger. There were wolves, and two children alone will attract thieves.”
Now Eudo understood. He blanched at the mention of wolves and his hand went to his knife.
“But Guy is gone and I fear that, should Osbern kill me, he’ll send men to take Bert—” David hugged her closer, “—and you can’t allow that.”
Indignant, Bert struggled against his grip. “I won’t let them take me, Daddy.”
“I know you won’t, Bertie, but you’ll let Eudo help you.” With a lift of the brow, David indicated to Eudo the hazard he had set him, not just in the journey, but in the handling of Bert. “Eudo, there’s no one else to do it. When Osbern sends, his knights will first tell of my defeat, then try to bribe my men. One of them will take the bribe and give Bert up. That’s why I trust you, Eudo, and not them. You’ve proved your honesty to me.”
Eudo’s young mouth firmed, and David didn’t care that the lad had no whiskers yet or that his voice occasionally squeaked. Knowing Eudo would care for Bert eased his worry. “You’ll have to be wary and ready to slip away unseen.” David took one of Eudo’s hands in his. “This is going to be much, much worse than that thing in the graveyard. You’ll be constantly frightened, but remember the nettles you planted in the rocks to protect Lady Alisoun from the archer?”
Eudo nodded.
“That’s the kind of ingenuity that will get Bert to George’s Cross.”
“I’ll get her to George’s Cross, sir. I swear I will.”
“I know you will. Once there, Lady Alisoun will take care of you.”
Now Bert piped up and showed how little she truly comprehended. “Daddy, are you going to go fight that nasty man and get Philippa back?”
“I’m going to go fight him.” And the memory of their last battle rose to haunt him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. “I’m going to try to kill him, because he deserves it. And I’m going to make it safe for Philippa to have her baby with her once more.”
The children didn’t hear his doubt. They only heard the magnificence of his goal, and their faces shone with pride and admiration.
Bert grinned, and Sir David saw the gap where she’d lost a tooth within the last few days. In his drunken stupor, he hadn’t notice, but she forgave him—all because she loved him.
She said, “I know you’ll save her. You’ll come back, because you’re the best warrior in the land and I love you a lot.”
The faith she had! And Eudo stood with his chest thrown out and a great smile on his face, too. Crushing them in his arms, David said, “I love you both, too.” Was love really so strong a bridge between souls? His granny had said it was. She said that even after his death, his love would continue, warm like a fire. Tentatively, feeling like a fool for entrusting this message to children, he said, “I want you to do one thing for me. Will you tell Lady Alisoun that I love her?”
If anything, they smiled more. “Oh, aye, Daddy, I’ll tell her,” Bert promised.
“I will, too, Sir David.” Eudo started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” David asked.
“To get your armor and your weapons. Isn’t that what your squire is supposed to do?”
“Aye. Aye, that’s what my squire is supposed to do.”
The carts started down the road from George’s Cross to the village below. Laden with linens, with silk for a wedding gown and presents to please Edlyn’s new lord, they represented the finest trousseau Alisoun could assemble for the girl who had grown to mean so much to her.
Edlyn stood, her feet firmly planted in the bailey, and looked around at the buildings and the keep as if she could impress the images on her heart forever. Impulsively, she turned to Alisoun. “Couldn’t I stay until—”
“Until when?” Alisoun tried to smile, but her lips trembled too much. “Until Hazel grows used to me and accepts me as her mother? Until I have this babe? Until…until when?”
“You’re just so alone,” Edlyn burst out. “Heath is no substitute for Philippa. Hazel is no substitute for me. And Sir Walter…”
She hesitated. No one had spoken David’s name in Alisoun’s presence since they’d left that breeding ground of bitterness called Radcliffe. With a composure that no longer came naturally, Alisoun said, “Nay, Sir Walter is no substitute for Sir David, at least when I need companionship.”
“He just seemed the man who could please you,” Edlyn burst out. “Will you ever forgive him?”
“Nay.” Just that one word, flat and final.
“I wish…”
“So do I, but wishing cannot mend a broken fence.” Alisoun touched Edlyn on the shoulder. “Anyway, when I took you with me to Radcliffe, I told myself your bridegroom wouldn’t notice another month, but you have to ride south before winter comes, for I believe he will notice another year.”
“At his age, what’s another year?”
Alisoun couldn’t help it; she laughed at the puckish expression on Edlyn’s face. Then Edlyn laughed, too, accepting her fate a little better.
“Hey!”
A man’s shout interrupted them, and Edlyn’s face lit up. “Hugh.” His name was only an exhalation, but the joy in her voice vibrated through Alisoun. Glowing with youth and spirit, Edlyn waved enthusiastically at the man she loved with an unrequited passion.
Loping over, he stood next to them, a big, stupid youth who had no thoughts in his head beyond the security of George’s Cross, his practice that day on the training yard, and his ambitions. Without even knowing it, he crushed Edlyn’s hopes. “Are you leaving today? I hadn’t realized.” Enveloping her in a fraternal hug, he said, “God speed you on your journey, and I wish you the greatest happiness with your new husband.”
“My thanks.” Edlyn said it to his back as he hurried off.
“He takes his duty to protect my demesne seriously.” Alisoun found herself making excuses to combat the woeful expression on Edlyn’s face.
“What will he do when Sir Walter is able to resume his duties once more?” Edlyn asked.
“We’ll knight him.” Alisoun looked ahead to that day when she would have to make that decision, and it seemed like just one more burden placed back on her shoulders by David’s perfidy. “Then I suppose he’ll go looking for adventure and fortune.”
“I suppose. And I suppose I’ll never see him again. I suppose that’s all for the best.”
Edlyn’s quiet agony as she said good-bye to her childhood dreams tore at Alisoun’s heart. She tried to think of something to say, something to ease the pain, but her experience with such emotions was new. How could she help Edlyn when she couldn’t even help herself?
Crossing her arms over her chest, Edlyn whispered, “Will I ever see you again?”
Alisoun could offer no more than feeble hope. “Perhaps someday I will go up to London with my children and we can meet there.”
“You can’t take Lord Osbern’s child out where others can see her, and you won’t leave her home.”
Alisoun couldn’t dispute that.
“So I will never see you again.”
“We’ll leave that in God’s hands.”
Edlyn nodded, her eyes dry, her gaze steady. “Aye, that would be best.”
Once, not so long ago, Alisoun had been like a mother to Edlyn, and Edlyn had believed Alisoun could twist events to make everything right. She no longer expected that—she’d learned differently through these last long summer days—but she loved Alisoun none the less. Now they were women, united in grief and going their separate ways. Opening their arms to each other, they hugged. Then a groom helped Edlyn into the saddle and with a wave and a brave smile, she rode away.
At last Alisoun had seen her ambition for Edlyn come to fruition. The lass who had been terrified by Osbern’s attack had been replaced by the young woman who went to get married. Edlyn now faced the grief of her life with stolid maturity. Yet Alisoun wished that the girl had not had so many ideals crushed, so many dreams destroyed.
If maturity was nothing more than cynicism and unhappiness, then it was highly overrated, and Alisoun herself wanted none of it.
Alisoun ran to the drawbridge and stood staring at the retreating procession.
Ah, there had been a time in Alisoun’s life when she thought that if all people acted with maturity, the world would be peaceful, organized, and prosperous. Now she sought a return to that aloof state of mind, but the memory of her own hopes and dreams haunted her.
She hated David. Hate burned in her gut until she feared it would harm the babe, but still she couldn’t tame her rancor.
Worse, she missed him. She wanted someone to talk to, someone who thought the same thoughts she did and shared the same values.
Not the same values, she corrected herself. She had thought they shared the same values, but he’d let Philippa go with her husband because he feared the loss of his lands.
And of his family. That inner voice, always fair, taunted her. He worried about Bertrade. He wanted to keep his daughter safe, and he would sacrifice anyone to do so. And he wanted to keep her safe, too, Alisoun grudgingly admitted. He had done everything he could to keep her safe: taking her to Radcliffe, mobilizing his forces there, protecting her even when she had refused him her bed.
So mayhap he had had a little justification for his actions.
But when she remembered Philippa’s scars, her anguish, her fears; when she remembered that lonely baby upstairs in her keep who cried pitiably for her mother—then she no longer thought him justified, and she wanted to do something, anything, to rectify this situation.
She heard a slow, shuffling tread and the tap of a crutch on the wooden planks behind her, and she turned at once to Sir Walter.
“You shouldn’t have walked so far.” She rebuked him. “And never down the stairs from the keep.”
“I didn’t walk all the way. I couldn’t bear to be inside anymore, so Ivo carried me.” Sir Walter’s bruises had faded, the scars had drawn together and formed red and white streaks across his face, and he moved with great difficulty. He looked down toward the village to the tiny figure of Edlyn, and said, “We’ll miss her, eh, my lady?”
“Dreadfully.”
Balancing carefully, he tugged at her arm. “Come inside. I still find myself unconvinced that the duke of Framlingford will not retaliate against you, and I don’t like you standing in such an exposed spot.”
She didn’t want to go, but she knew he was right. Osbern would no doubt brood on the wrong she had done him and would someday come back to take his revenge.
But only when he’d finished with Philippa.
She whimpered softly, but Sir Walter heard. “Would you help me, my lady? I find myself tiring more easily than I expected.”
Blindly, she took his arm and helped him back into the bailey, and after a moment her choking sensation eased. One couldn’t remain in pain all the time, and the act of helping Sir Walter seemed to bring solace.
She could, after all, successfully aid someone.
Sir Walter was speaking, and with an effort she tried to comprehend the words.
“I’m not the man I once was, my lady. I’ll never walk easily and I’ll never fight in battle again. Not only that, but I am humbled in spirit as well. You were right about the threat the duke posed, and I should have listened and done my duty rather than instruct you in yours.”
He breathed heavily, and she realized he hadn’t simply used his condition as an excuse to bring her inside. He did need to rest. She looked around, and the hovering Ivo rolled a tree stump toward them for Sir Walter to sit on.
She smiled at the big man who gave her his unquestioning loyalty and wished all men were so easily trained. Sir Walter had almost died learning that a woman could know better than a man, and David…in his ignorance, David had lost her.
But did he really care?
She and Ivo held Sir Walter’s arms as he lowered himself onto the stump. With a grunt, Sir Walter settled himself, then with his gaze on his feet, said, “If you choose another steward for George’s Cross, my lady, I understand, but there can never be another man who would truly be as dedicated to your service.”
Now she realized the reason for at least some of his discomfort, and said hastily, “Sir Walter, I have failed in my duty to you if you think I would choose another man to care for George’s Cross. You may not be able to fight, but you know the people, the crops, and you have the loyalty of the men-at-arms and the mercenary knights. I have no time to train another, especially since I have a one-year-old daughter to reconcile to her new home, and—” she looked at him directly, “—I will be giving birth in the winter.”
He smiled. The attack on him had left him with few teeth and a mouth permanently split on one side, but she read his joy. “That is indeed a blessing, my lady, and I rejoice that the child will be legitimate.”
She grimaced in pain at the thought of her marriage.
“I meant no disrespect,” he added quickly. “Only that I doubted your attachment to Sir David, and I should have realized your wisdom.”
“Wisdom.” She chortled.
“Your activities are always wise and well thought out, my lady.”
“I used to think so, too.”
“Even taking Lady Philippa from her husband had its base in wisdom.”
“Now you give me your blessing?”
“And if you think about it, you’ll see it is wisdom to give up your grief about her recapture.” She drew back, but he caught her hand. “There was nothing you could do about it. There was nothing anyone could do about it. A wife belongs to her husband, and you always knew that one day, he would capture her.”
“I suppose I knew, but I hoped that Sir David…”
“You can’t blame the man for recognizing an impossible situation and doing the best he knew how.”
“He isn’t who I thought he was.”
“Who’s that?”
“A legend.”
“He never said he was a legend.”
She didn’t answer, because she knew it was true.
“You, lady—you usually think so clearly. What solution can you envision that would take Lady Philippa away from her God-given husband?”
She treated his question seriously. “I’ve thought about it and thought about it. I can’t bribe Osbern. Even if he needed my money, he’s the kind of man who would keep Philippa for the pleasure of tormenting her and knowing that her pain tormented me. I can’t appeal to the king. He arranged the match himself, and he would never interfere between man and wife.”
“And think of your estates. Your first duty is to them.”
“I’ve lived my whole life for these estates, and I know now someone will always tend them. They are too rich to remain unclaimed for long.” Almost to herself, she said, “Surely Philippa’s life is worth more than any land.”
“Ease your heart, my lady! Perhaps Lord Osbern learned his lesson during his wife’s long absence and now treats her with honor she deserves.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
Quickly he abandoned that fantasy. “It would take a desperate man who cared nothing for his life or his family to try and rescue Lady Philippa.”
“Or a desperate woman.” She said the words, it seemed, even before she thought them.
“A woman? Ha.” As Sir Walter tried to struggle to his feet, Ivo rushed to his side and assisted him. “With all due respect, my lady, a woman’s weapons are useless against the might of king and Church.”
She was desperate.
“I’m going to the guardhouse now, and then I will retire.”
Yet what was she supposed to do?
Sir Walter patted her hand. “If I may be so bold, I would advise you to resign yourself to Philippa’s fate and submit to your husband your unquestioning obedience.”
Don armor and ride to rescue Philippa herself?
“Ah, I see a spark in your eye.” Sir Walter smiled, a wise lift of the lips. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
“I’m glad, too.” She smiled back at him, at ease for the first time in days.
He waved Ivo away and hobbled off on his own, and she waited until he could no longer hear her before she turned to her man-at-arms. “Ivo! Have we got any armor that would fit me?”
Ivo’s lips moved as he repeated the question silently, clearly puzzled over the meaning. “Aye. There’s an old leather breastplate.”
“Is there a sword I could lift? Maybe a sharp knife?”
“Aye. There is.” But rather than going to get them, he stood and scratched his hairy chin with an intent expression. At last he seemed to have comprehended something, and he asked, “Are we going t’ get Lady Philippa from her husband?”
“I am.” She needed him to get to Osbern’s stronghold but she would not command him. “If you and Gunnewate wish to accompany me, I’d be grateful.”
“There’s nary a question that I’ll accompany ye an’ speaking fer Gunnewate, he’ll go, too.” His scratching fingers wandered down to his chest. “Pardon me, my lady, fer being forward, but I heard ye say ye’re with child.”
In sooth, she made this decision not only for herself, but for the life within her. Still, she knew what she had to do. With steady resolve, she answered, “No child of mine could want a mother tainted by dishonor and cowardice.”
His fingers came to a halt and he nodded slowly up and down. “Aye, m’lady, ye’re right about that.”
She realized she’d been holding her breath as she waited for Ivo’s opinion. A plain man, an honest man, he viewed the world without imagination and still he approved her plan. She needed no more benediction. “Then we have a journey to make.”