A True and Perfect Knight (14 page)

Haven nodded his approval and studied the map that spread out from Edward’s fist. “That's a sound plan. You can trust the Marcher Lords now. But where is Llewellyn’s brother, Wild Daffydd?”

“That is the news I have. Until yesterday, I could not carry out this plan for fear that Daffydd remained outside the circle of armies with which I intend to squeeze Llewellyn.”

“And you now know where he is.”

“Aye, he is marching on Two Hills Keep, here.” Edward’s hand moved to a spot in mid Wales near the coastal plain. “Approximately four days’ ride from Twynn.”

Haven’s brow crinkled. “But that is outside the area in which you have Llewellyn pinned. Will not Daffydd come to his brother’s aid?”

“Mayhap. Who can tell what Wild Daffydd will do? He and his brother do not always see eye to eye. But I believe that Daffydd will support Llewellyn. In order to do so, he will have to continue on his present path and go through Two Hills Keep.”

“Why wouldn’t he go by sea, or take some other route?”

“I have the entire coast blockaded. He cannot go that way. Any other route would take too long.”

“Unless he rode his horses to death.”

“Aye, ’tis a calculated risk I am taking.”

Haven looked closely at his king, surprised that Edward would leave anything to chance. The sparkle of mischief in Edward’s eye had become a vivid gleam of satisfaction. “Of course,” Haven spoke softly, “you have a plan to prevent any possibility of succor for Llewellyn from his brother.”

“Indeed, you will proceed to Two Hills Keep. From there, you will seek out Daffydd’s forces and drive them south into Edmund’s army. Mayhap you will even crush Daffyd. Either way you
must
capture Two Hills Keep and hold it for me.”

Haven swallowed disappointment. He had hoped to be with Edward in the battle against Llewellyn. “Aye, my liege. I will need more men if I am to battle Daffydd and his army.”

“I will give you a writ to command any man you need who is not yet in service. By the time your own men arrive, and if you go by boat from here to Twynn, you can be at Two Hills Keep in less than a se’enight. Daffydd should still be in the south, since few yet know of my plans for Llewellyn. That will give you time to fortify the keep.”

Haven grimaced. He hated traveling by boat. On the journey to and from the Holy Land, he had been most vilely sick. The only consolation had been that others were just as sick. Roger, especially, had nearly starved to death for the inability to keep food in his stomach.

That memory brought the widow to mind, and Haven smiled. He could not possibly drag her and her son on so urgent a journey. Not only would he finally be rid of the widow, but also he had a battle to look forward to at the end of his travels. Mayhap he could tolerate a few days in the belly of a boat. “If the fleet is as busy as you say with blockades and supplying the army, will boats be available at the port in Chester?”

“I have already sent a messenger to the port with my orders. All will be in readiness.” Edward nodded and sat in a chair next to the far wall, gesturing Haven to a small chair opposite his own. A pitcher and goblets stood on a table to the right of the chairs. “I want you to remain as lord at Two Hills Keep, even after we defeat Llewellyn.”

Haven kept silent despite his surprise at the king’s order.

“I said earlier that I will crush the Welsh who support Llewellyn. ’Tis my intent to forbid them their homes. In fact, under no circumstance must you allow any Welshman within one hundred paces of Two Hills Keep.”

Haven noted the unusual emphasis on this last order. “Who will till the fields, my liege?”

“I will send English families, good solid yeoman, whose loyalty and oaths I can trust. The first group should arrive at Two Hills Keep before the winter.”

“How many, liege?”

“In toto, one hundred families, roughly three hundred able-bodied Englishmen, women and children.”

“Isn’t Two Hills one of the smaller Welsh castles?”

“Aye. So I will send a castle builder as well. St. George, if he is available; if not, one of his apprentices.”

“Thank you for your trust in me, Sire.”

“You are welcome. Now, my friend, tell me about the widow,” said Edward.

Haven nodded. “She waits without.”

Edward refilled his cup, then offered the pitcher to Haven. “Is she as beautiful as the women we had in France on our return from the Holy Lands?”

The memory of the widow’s nakedness arose at the question. Haven shifted uncomfortably. “She is nothing like those women.” That much was true.

“Then how did she bewitch Dreyford into treason?”

“I do not know. She seems more interested in her son’s wellbeing than kingdoms and politics.”

“Were I the widow of a traitor, I too would be concerned for his heir’s welfare.” Edward sipped and considered. “I should hang them both and be done with that nest of vipers.”

I swear to protect your son and all his family.
Haven’s own words echoed in his head. If he were ever to fulfill his promise to Roger, now was the time. “Sire,” Haven paused, choosing his words with care. “For the love that we both once bore to Roger Dreyford, do not hang his widow and child.”

Edward’s look sharpened. “I cannot rule a kingdom on sentiment.”

“We have no proof that she is directly involved.”

“We have no proof that she is not involved.”

“You are a powerful man with many resources, need you hang her?”

“Aye, but right now all of those resources are sorely taxed.”

“Surely one of the convents…”

Edward raised his hand. “Do not talk to me of convents. The abbesses I can trust already harbor other hostages for me; at great expense, I might add. I will not spend more of my exchequer to encourage them to take in an impoverished widow and her child.”

“Could you not ask the pope?”

“The whole world knows of my disagreements with the pope about taxing the land-holding clergy. I cannot afford to give him so much as the possibility of leverage by asking his minions to guard a traitor’s widow. Also, I am uncertain that I wish to place such a dangerous woman within his grasp.”

“Liege, I have served you long and well. You know I did so for love of you as well as for the hope that you might someday reward me with lands to hold for you. You have given me Two Hills Keep, in feoff. I freely return to you those lands and renounce all claim to any of your favor, if you will spare Roger’s family.”
Am I losing my mind?

Edward lifted an eyebrow. “You promised Dreyford that you would keep his family safe. Did you not?”

The king’s perceptiveness failed to surprise Haven. “Aye.”

“Did you swear an oath to him?”

“Aye.” Haven felt a great lump of worry grow in his throat and cast his glance to the floor.

“That was a foolish thing to do, my friend, for I have already decided the fate of the widow and her whelp.”

Edward’s hand touched his shoulder gently.

Haven raised his head to see rare sympathy in the king’s long face. The expression lingered an instant. “I am sorry, Haven. I have no time for explanations.” Then Edward called out to his secretary. “Bek, get your quills and ink. I’ve work for you to do.”

“Aye, my liege.” The fellow bowed.

To Haven the king said, “Go, my friend. Bring the widow to me. You will find a priest sitting to the right of the door. Bring him as well.”

Haven squared his shoulders, stood and turned to the door.
I have damned myself.
Guilt washed over him. He had brought not only his dearest friend to death, but that friend’s wife and child as well. He deserved to be damned for his pride and his broken oath.

Certain of the trust and affection the king held for him, Haven had not hesitated to swear that he would sway the king’s favor and keep safe Roger’s widow and son. Now it was too late. As his failure loomed over him, Haven saw himself denied all hope of Heaven, condemned to a life of penance followed by eternal death in Hell.

Gennie bit her lip and wished the friar to the devil. He’d approached the instant Haven left. She’d acknowledged him only because not to do so would prove even more awkward than trying to remember where she’d seen him. The holy man resolved her dilemma. He reminded her that he had often heard confessions from Roger and herself when visiting the Dreyford demesne. He then remarked that he was sorry for her loss. She thanked the friar for his sympathy and tried to excuse herself. But he insisted on reiterating the entire boring story of his travels since he last saw Roger Dreyford.

In the midst of this recital, the door opened. At the sight of Haven’s pallor, Gennie broke off her conversation with the friar. Her hand went to her throat. “What is it?”

“The king wishes to see you now.” Haven’s words came strangled from stiff lips.

Gennie watched him turn to the priest seated on the opposite side of the door.

“And you also, Father.” With movements as stiff as his words, Haven turned and disappeared into the room.

The priest rose. “After you, milady.”

Genvieve entered the king’s council chamber. At the far end of the room stood Edward, a richly dressed clerk bent at a table by his side. The clerk’s papers whispered like the rustling of a shroud being wound about the body of the dead. She would be hanged, but her body would receive no shroud. Such care was not given to traitors. Nor would she be buried. Instead, her body would be left as carrion for crows and other vermin to devour. A public reminder of the consequences of treason.

The king gestured her forward. The closer she got to his tall, lanky form, the more she trembled. So much, that when she finally stood next to de Sessions, she did not even try to curtsey.
What would happen to Thomas?

A smile leered across Edward’s face, and he drew the priest forward to stand beside him. "You may begin, Father.”

Begin what? Gennie wondered. Images of the priest administering the last rites ran wild in her mind. What kind of man was the king to take such joy in the death of one woman?

“Is this the couple, then?”

What was the priest talking about?

“Aye.”

“They must join hands.”

“Do as he asks, Haven, madame.”

“Huh?” Haven grunted the question.

Gennie looked at him and saw as much confusion in his eyes as she felt in her heart.

“Join hands, you dolts.”

Exhausted, Gennie shifted at the same moment as Haven, bumping his shoulder. Startled, she looked at him. Brown eyes glared down at her. The king reached forward and grasped her hand. Gennie jerked in surprise, but the king’s grasp remained firm until he placed her hand in Haven’s. Heat from Haven’s palm sizzled up her arm. She felt dizzy. The councilors at the end of the room stared. Gennie blushed. The father’s words droned past her ears.

“We gather here in the sight of God…”

Chapter Twelve

“I do.” Haven’s statement echoed throughout the chamber.

Gennie shook herself from her exhausted daze. “You do what, Sir Haven?”

Anger blackened his face. Several discreet coughs from the end of the room distracted her. Something was not right. Closer to hand, the priest glared at her interruption. Edward looked fit to burst. What was going on?

The priest continued. “Do you Genvieve Eloise des Jardins Dreyford take this man as your husband, promising to obey him in all things, to adore him with your body, pledging him your fealty, cleaving to him as your liege lord and giving him all your worldly goods, saving only that which you owe to Christ?”

“What? Take de Sessions as my husband? Of course not.”

The coughing increased.

“Are all those men ill?” Gennie asked. “Sir, send for a posset, and I will tend to them.” She started for the opposite end of the chamber, but Haven’s hand held hers fast. “Please you, Sir Haven, let go. I may be dead an hour hence, but I will not stand by idle when others are sick and in need.”

“They are not sick, madame. You must remain and answer the priest.”

“I have already answered the priest, and I will not wed you. What would be gained by such a foolish action?”

“It would please me greatly.” Edward’s soft words accompanied a dagger-sharp look that even Gennie in all her weariness could not mistake.

She swallowed in an attempt to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “Well, I…uh…that is, I suppose no harm can come from it. We can always hold the execution afterwards, but I insist on having a shroud to wrap my body.”

“By all means, madame. You have my oath as King of England, that when you die, you will have the finest of shrouds. Continue, Father.”

Gennie blinked at the brilliance of Edward’s smile. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the men at the end of the room fall to his knees, moaning. She moved toward him once again, but Haven’s grip remained strong. “The priest, madame.”

“Do you take this man as your husband, madame?”

Gennie looked into Haven’s unsmiling face. He squeezed her hand and nodded. “I do,” she said, and felt as if the hangman’s noose had just tightened around her neck.