A Lord for Haughmond (9 page)

     Rising, he thrust the letters into the chamberlain’s arms. “’Tis impossible to consider abandoning the country at this time. I’ve mine eye on Scotland. The clans are wreaking havoc in the northern shires. They needs be thrust back into their repellent highlands.” He drilled his minion with a scowl. “Can we not create a ruse, so the savages will fight amongst themselves and leave England in peace?” He shook his fist at the man who, in stoic silence, awaited his next command. “But if war they want, then war they’ll get!”

     Edward stomped down the two steps of the dais, swinging his elbows to loosen the cramped muscles after hours of state business, the wide sleeves of his surcoat flapping like wings. He drew a deep breath as he returned. “And you say Robert de la Motte’s daughter requires my time?”

     The chamberlain nodded. “Yea, sire, she awaits you.” He turned and beckoned to a lady standing at the edge of the crowd.

     Edward’s brows rose as Robert’s daughter approached the dais. Garbed in an ungirdled woolen gown of dark red, she was a vision of beauty. Suddenly regretting that he had put her off for two days, he was prepared to be gracious and kind. But he did not intend the lady to know this. It had required an inordinate amount of time to solve the thorny conundrum of Haughmond Castle. ’Twas but this morn that a satisfying answer had been found.

     The lady executed a pleasing curtsy and he stood straighter, hoping his eyelid did not droop more than usual, an irksome fault inherited from his sire.

     “Ah, our late lord’s daughter. Arise, Lady Katherine. Come hither.” He savored her appeal and her grace as she stood. Robert would be proud. To be sure, she held her head the same as her sire. “What brings you to court this day?” Edward inquired, knowing full well the reason for her petition.

     The lady met his eyes with an unflinching gaze. An astute young damsel—not the middling sort. Undoubtedly, she would not be as acquiescent as others of lesser intelligence.

     “Sire, I have come to plead for the return of—”

     “Hold!” He held up his hand and peered beyond her, hoping to prick her confidence.

     “You there!” He called to the knight who had escorted the lady and who appeared reluctant to come forward. Most subjects eagerly sought his attention. Strangely, the man seemed intent in melting into the crowd. “I would be acquainted with you. Approach!” Edward gestured his hand impatiently, rankled that a subject disdained to pay homage to him. ’Twas an unpleasant reminder of the stubborn and vexatious Welsh princes.

     The knight stepped from behind a nobleman and strode forward, his chain-mail armor murmuring a metallic whisper with each step. Though his steel helm was absent, his mail coif yet covered his head. Nigh hidden beneath his armor, all that could be seen of the man were his downcast eyes and a generous growth of blond facial hair on his chin and upper lip. He came to stand a few steps behind Katherine and bowed with exaggerated politeness.

     Edward suppressed a grimace at the pretentious display.

     “Sir Rhys of St. Quintin at your service, sire.”

     “Ah, St. Quintin!” Edward’s pique disappeared with the knowledge this stranger served one of his loyal barons. “How is your lord?”

     “Sir Richard claimed a healthy appetite when last I saw him a fortnight agone.”

     “And Sir Dafydd? I presume you are acquainted with that worthy knight?”

     “Aye, your majesty, I know him well.”

     “He’s been a favorite these many years,” Edward remarked with a smile, hiding his displeasure that the knight continued to avert his eyes. What manner of man would not meet the royal gaze?

     “We have had our differences,” replied the knight in a muted voice.

     Edward shook his head in consternation. “My knights and barons are forever squabbling. England would be better served without petty bickering.”

     Irritated, he turned away. Let this man savor his slight. Let him know his king did not find favor with his arrogant attitude. Shifting his attention to Lady Katherine, he picked up their conversation. “You wish to claim Haughmond as Sir Robert’s heir?”

     “Yea, sire,” came her clear and quick response. “’Tis my birthright and my father’s most precious desire.”

     “By all that is holy, my writ unseats your father’s intent. You have no birthright, lady, without my permission!” he thundered, vexed at the knight, vexed at himself, vexed his accursed lisp had begun to pepper his speech. It showed his emotions were running out of control. He didn’t relish a lack of control.

     Those in the crowd closest to the dais lowered their voices at his outburst and blistering glare. He snorted at their caution. They should be accustomed to his tirades.

     Expecting to be rewarded with a biddable demeanor, he found himself startled when Lady Katherine’s head snapped up in defiance and she looked him squarely in the eye. With any other, he would have let loose his temper and railed at a headstrong beauty who dared such spirit. But he was reminded of her father, also bold—devoted to a fault—his most steadfast supporter until death had claimed him. ’Twas hard to set aside such memories, especially when so fair and captivating a daughter stood as proudly before him.

     Thereto, he was well acquainted with headstrong daughters.

     Choosing to be enchanted by her audacity, Edward moderated his ire. “Sir Geoffrey petitions me as well.”

     The maid’s eyes snapped and her mouth thinned in an angry line.

     Again reminded of Sir Robert, Edward calmly observed her rising anger. Justified passion could be diverted to his own advantage. “I bid you present your case, Lady Katherine.” He made a small flourish with his hand. “Pray, tutor me on the matter, that I may render a fair judgment.”

     “Entirely so, your grace.” She nodded politely and drew breath. In a tremulous voice, she began, “Sir Robert inherited Haughmond Castle from his father, Sir Guy, who inherited it from his sire. In 1068 the first wooden structure was constructed on the site where now sits the stone edifice of Haughmond Castle. The Conqueror himself granted the barony charter to Sir Henri de la Motte. The village and its people have prospered, making use of good husbandry techniques that my sire and grandsire initiated. ’Twas my grandsire who enjoyed experimenting with new stock, much like yourself, your grace.”

     Edward clasped his hands behind him.

     Lady Katherine stumbled to a halt. “Did you not import a new breed of sheep from Spain?” she inquired.

     With casual ease, he nodded, refusing to let his astonishment show, refusing to be flattered. The lady’s knowledge was impressive.

     “Haughmond has prospered,” she pointed out with surprising bravado. “My forebears were diligent stewards through the years. Much like the castle, built block by block of the stone quarried from the bluff upon which it sits, so has it been defended generation after generation by de la Motte knights, knights who have always shown their loyalty to the crown.”

     “But Haughmond has prospered under Sir Geoffrey, thereto,” he reminded her with a lift of his brow.

     Katherine shook her head. “If I may persuade you differently, your grace, Sir Geoffrey inherited a well-organized holding when he wed my mother. He made no changes. I have ledgers to prove it. His steward continued my father’s practices and did not enlarge upon them. John, the reeve, and the other serfs who live at the castle, can attest to this.”

     “Words come easy when crossed with silver. I will not be bothered by ledgers, where figures are manipulated.”

     He deliberately baited the girl and it pleased him that she looked desperate. ’Twould be easier to draw forth any duplicity she might possess. The thick lively mane of hair cascading around her shoulders and held in place by a silver circlet upon her head could not hide the rising tension in her face. Mayhap he’d be able to trepan her in a falsehood, as Sir Geoffrey had suggested. 

     “My stepfather covets a thriving holding,” Katherine continued in a rush. “Yet his claim is spurious. He already possesses Myton Castle. ’Tis a fair fortification, with rich lands handed down from his own forebears.” She drilled him with a hard glare. “His stranglehold on Shropshire will prove disastrous.”

     Edward scowled at the veiled threat, surprised at her daring. What was her meaning? He loathed riddles, unless they were of his own making. He knew he was becoming red of face, could feel the fiery heat of anger starting at his neck and climbing upward. Pity, so intelligent a mind was not born into a man. What successes might she have enjoyed? On edge, he gestured for her to continue.

     “’Tis unnecessary for his greed to deprive my sister and me of our inheritance, insofar as we are but women.”

     “Ah, greed—one of the deadly sins.” He sighed in relief, that this was the lady’s point of contention. “A great encumbrance to mankind, would you not agree?” Impatient with the direction of the conversation, he did not pause for an answer. “Would that you are not enticed by such weakness, Lady Katherine.”

     “Yea, sire,” she responded. “But pray, allow us the lands that King William saw fit to bestow upon his loyal knight, Henri de la Motte. Sir Geoffrey’s influence must needs be more limited.”

     Wary now, realizing the lady had more in mind, Edward stepped closer, towering over her from his great height. “What say you?” He kept his voice low, hoping to hide his concern from his more observant subjects.

     He could well imagine what it cost her, returning his unyielding look, tilting her head back on her shoulders to meet his eyes. So like his own daughter, Eleanor.

     “Greed is not limited by land, your grace. In the Marches, ’tis a common fault of both English and Welsh landholders."

     “So you begrudge Geoffrey de Borne his standing in the Marches?” His anger boiled up at her pettiness.

     “If it were simply that, your grace.” The damsel licked her lips as though she were nervous, yet she continued to meet his purposeful gaze, the one that usually set everyone aquiver. “Additional tenants and their rents provide revenues. Revenues fuel power. By holding Haughmond, Sir Geoffrey retains a broader base of dominion in the shire than the other barons.”     

     Edward rocked back on his heels, impressed afresh with Lady Katherine and her wisdom. Pity she was not a knight and able to advise him in the torrent of problems that did press him. With a prickling of regret, he pursed his lips, almost sorry what he must needs impart. “Know you Sir Geoffrey has made a further request. He seeks your hand in marriage.”    

     Lady Katherine paled so suddenly he feared she would fall in a faint at his feet.

     “Holy Church would never sanction such a vile union,” she breathed.

     “Rome can be persuaded, should I desire it.”

     “Nay, sire, you will find me dead forthwith, but only after I have produced his heir!”

     “’Tis a heavy charge to level on one of my most loyal knights.”

     “’Twas what befell my mother. I claim he did murder her.” 

     “Give me proof of such accusations, else I’ll have your ears pinned back on the nearest pillory!” His voice rose in anger and he did not care who heard. “Else I think you a vindictive shrew,” he scolded, needing to vent his rising fury. “Sir Geoffrey cannot be set aside easily. Does Haughmond not require a tested knight for its lord?”

     “See you?” Lady Katherine swung toward her escort. Instantly, she whirled back to face him, her eyes bulging with horror. She sank to the floor in a curtsy. “I beg your pardon, your grace. I have erred.”

     The knight stepped forward. “My liege, ’tis undeniable the lady speaks true.”

     The knight’s violent outburst ensnared Edward’s attention. He intended to rebuke him for his insolence in speaking out of turn, but was silenced by the cold fear that fractured the man’s expression. His intuition told him ’twas not merely the fear of royal reprisals. Something was afoot.

     “Arise, Lady Katherine.” He tempered his ire and his tone of voice. “Be at  ease. As long as you are not like to insist on the habit, I forgive your impertinence, this once.”

     Katherine lunged to her feet and cast a desperate glance toward the knight before she turned to him. “May I speak, sire?” 

     He nodded gravely. “I think I should not like to deny you, Lady Katherine.”

     She drew a deep breath and exhaled swiftly. “’Tis an overwhelming disgust I feel, your grace, at the thought of wedding my stepfather. Verily, ’tis most improper he should consider such an idea! The pope must not sanction it. Yea, vindictiveness might well be my ambition. But know you this, Sir Geoffrey has not allowed me to wed. The situation cannot be denied. My stepfather keeps me close. He exploits me for his own ends.”

     He had wondered why Lady Katherine had not yet wed. Mayhap there was a measure of truth in her tale. What truth, then, existed in Geoffrey de Borne’s? The lords of the Marches were an irascible lot. For years they had enjoyed preferential royal treatment. He began to pace, circling the small dais. Sir Geoffrey could well pose a danger to the delicate balance on the Welsh border.

     But rash accusations must not be allowed, else chaos would reign. Others could take encouragement and follow this damsel’s example. Incriminations bandied about, as had occurred while he was in the Holy Land, had forced him to spend years formulating a strong central government. His successes and hard work were not to be subverted at this hour.

     Coming to a stop, he straightened to his full height and, crossing his arms, leveled a hard look upon Lady Katherine. “Which is more dear to you, your accusations against Sir Geoffrey or your claim to Haughmond Castle?”

     “Haughmond, sire. ’Tis my home, all I ever desired,” she replied in a burst.

     Though this damsel stood before him in the present, his memory drew back to when her father stood likewise. With swelling pride, Robert de la Motte had boasted of his holding in Shropshire. It had been most dear to him, thereto.

     The daughter’s large brown eyes so resembled her sire, though he had never seen Robert’s with such a lively sparkle. He sighed, knowing he would cause Lady Katherine more distress before Haughmond’s future was resolved. Alas, he had little choice in the matter. His first thought must needs be for England.