By Right of Arms (32 page)

Perrine slowly shook her head, but she smiled. “Gone? Your power is not gone, my lady, but different than with Giles. Pray do not forget the strengths you once knew, in the event your husband has need of them. Where once you felt your power in your ability to command, it will be doubled now as you stand beside a strong and able lord. Once you ordered troops because your husband was unable to protect you, but you have an able husband now and can lend him support. Once it was loneliness and despair that drove you, now it will be love and loyalty. Hyatt has need of a strong woman. Remember what you have learned.”

“Excellence, wisdom, courtesy, and humility,” she murmured. “He spoke those words to me.”

“Then do not pretend that you don’t know what he wants from you. And do not fool yourself, Lady Aurélie, that he could seek these virtues from a woman he does not love.”

* * *

Aurélie had been so intent on observing Hyatt and Ryland that she had not noticed that Girvin was not about the keep. The knight’s presence about the hall, wall, outbuildings, and baileys was only strong in Hyatt’s absence, as he guarded the place on Hyatt’s behalf. When Hyatt was ruling De la Noye, Girvin generally remained aloof, occupying himself with hunting, attention to the horses, weapons, and the surveying of the outlying lands. For these chores Girvin mostly chose Guillaume as his frequent companion, which made for an odd couple. Their similar qualities of stubbornness, pride, loyalty, and strength that had made them natural enemies with the siege was seeding a friendship in them now.

The sun was setting when Girvin came to the hall carrying a dozen strung rabbits. Aurélie had never seen him dressed so. He wore skins, boots, and a wide leather belt heavy with provender, and carried only the weapons of the crudest hunter. On previous hunts Girvin had donned mail and carried his sword and shield lest he meet some opponent in the wood.

Girvin’s hair had become shaggy, his face was shadowed with a heavy growth of beard, and his condition spoke of many days away from shelter. “Sir Girvin, have you been hunting this whole week?”

“Nay, my lady, but I did go deep into the wood to judge the game for the taking.”

Hyatt came closer to his wife and his messenger. “And is the game in the wood interesting?”

“Yea, my lord. ’Tis a good lot we spied, though there were odd breeds from many different groups. They gather in the forest.”

“How did you view the game?” Hyatt quietly asked. Aurélie listened, looking between the two men, not understanding their strangely hushed tones or descriptions.

“Sir Guillaume knows the forest very well and found a concealed cave above the road from which we might see the animals that pass. ’Twas a good loft to make count and name the beasts.”

“How clever. And the hunting will be good?”

“Aye, Hyatt, if we are the hunters and not the hunted. I would not hasten to kill any animals within the small groups lest we chase away the lot.” Girvin smiled wickedly. “I have left Guillaume to watch. You will be interested to know that we sighted a wounded stag. One limb was missing.”

Aurélie’s eyes rounded at the prospect of a three-legged stag. “A leg missing?” she gasped in interest, disbelieving. “You should have killed it and brought it here, Girvin.”

“I will my lady, in good time,” he said with a smile, bowing away from them.

She stood silent and still for a long moment before she looked up into her husband’s smiling eyes. She finally concluded that the animals they spoke of were not the kind one cuts into stew.

“Hyatt, what is Girvin about?”

“The protection of De la Noye. Of course.”

“And Guillaume?”

“The same, I assume.”

She raised a brow. “Have you brought my seneschal over to your side?”

“I think not, Aurélie. It appears that he serves you still, by keeping the castle safe.”

“My seneschal and your henchman. ’Tis an unlikely couple they make.”

“So long as the peculiar brotherhood works for the good of this, I would not question it. But speak not of Girvin’s hunting, my lady, lest the hunted become suspicious or get warning.”

“I would do nothing to risk De la Noye; you know that. But are we safe?”

Hyatt sighed and looked around the room. Some of his men were entering to have their evening meal. Ryland lounged at a long trestle table, sipping an ale, looking much at ease. Servants were gathering to serve and clean up.

“I think so, my lady. But I accept your prayers, just the same.”

Father Algernon replaced the communion chalice, covering it reverently with white linen, and blessed himself before the altar before leaving the sanctuary. He genuflected before the crucifix and moved into the vestry, his head bowed and hands folded. Once inside the bare little room he jumped in surprise, for a man had startled him by somehow slipping in without being seen.

“You should not have come here,” he said in an angry, hushed voice.

Ryland smiled confidently. “No one saw me. Not even you.”

Algernon stiffened. “What you seem to misunderstand is that your brother has no religion. He is a heathen. Should he discover that I have traffic with you, I would be stripped and turned out onto the road. He does not worry about his soul; he does not know the dire consequences of working against a man of the Church.”

Ryland laughed good-naturedly. “But the man of the Church understands fully the consequences of working against Hyatt. You are right, Father; my brother cares nothing for his soul, his spiritual bread and wine. He would
not
cast you out of the castle for working against him. Rather, he would slay you instantly. But that will not happen, will it? We shall show Hyatt the road out.”

“And this man you promise will help you to replace Hyatt?”

“You will be very pleased, Father Algernon. Have I greased his entrance with enough silver? Do you require more?”

“I must know the state of his soul; I would know that my place in my church is secure. It is costly business, this thing you ask of me.”

“That is an utter lie; it costs you nothing but courage. And I have sworn that the man who comes with troops will secure you in this church. Have you received permission for the pilgrims yet?”

“I have not asked it.”

“Soon?”

“Have patience. Pilgrims come here in droves, for De la Noye has always received them.”

“That was before Hyatt. You could seek him out today …”

“I could, but ’twould seem odd to seek permission to admit groups of prelates on a pilgrimage many weeks from now. If you will only wait, the plan will not fail. Do you swear that no one will be hurt?”

“Not one of the friars or monks. Of that I can give assurance because they will travel unarmed. Within these walls, yea, there will be death and injury, inasmuch as these people of Hyatt’s fight to preserve De la Noye for him. But was it not so when Hyatt came? If you wish to remain under his rule, say so now, Father.”

“Nay, we cannot remain under a faithless lord. ’Tis better, I think, that your friend overtake him and bring the religion back to this place. We simmer just above Hell now.”

Ryland’s eyes twinkled. “And with the Sire de Pourvre it was so much better?”

“The Sire was a devoted man; he had risen above those mercantile desires of the fleshly man. He was free of the sins of the godless knight.”

“I see,” Ryland said. “We grow impatient, Father. De la Noye must be restored soon. The priest in Château Innesse was not deposed; his robes are richer and his church grows larger than it was before the battle. I am anxious to have this business settled.”

“If you do not await the harvest, sir knight, you will not succeed. That is the time of the largest pilgrimages.”

“Do not betray me, Father. I warn you.”

Father Algernon inclined his head in an affirmative nod and Ryland turned abruptly to leave the vestry. He peeked out the open door and crossed in front of the altar through the chapel. Being seen leaving the chapel was not a problem, but had anyone been praying there and realized he was closeted with the priest, grave suspicions would arise. Ryland knew how carefully he was watched and this excited him.

Ryland walked from the chapel toward the hall. He purposely wished to pass through the mistress’s gardens. His pace was leisurely, his manner relaxed. He liked to wander about De la Noye. After Innesse, De la Noye was a lovely surprise. This was a rich and robust place, not at all like a castle recently besieged by war and death, but a flowering little blossom in the midst of a stormy land. If all went according to plan, and if he could stay Hollis’s harsh hand, De la Noye would barely be bruised in the siege. The dead would belong to Hyatt’s men-at-arms.

Ryland had a liking for flowers and found the gardens in the inner bailey behind the central keep to be perfectly groomed at all times. There were always women and young boys at work there. This was the one place completely untouched by the conquering forces, for a wall that was about knee-high to a full-grown man surrounded the place, and the clumsy knights had not ridden nor led their warhorses through the flowers. He touched a rose, stooped to pluck a marigold, and inspected a large, fragrant white flower. He inhaled deeply, smiling.

A figure kneeling not far from where he stood caught his eye. It was Aurélie, stooped beside the herb patch with a small knife and a basket. A chuckle rose to his lips. How unlike a noblewoman to be engaged in menial labor. Any of the women he had known would have sent a servant to collect herbs. But then, he had seen her involved in many tasks beneath her station. She poured ale from her pitchers, delivered wine from the closet to the table, brought dinner eggs from the village. Mayhap she curried horses when she had a spare moment, he thought wryly.

He approached her. “Is there no one to do this for you, my lady?”

She turned and looked up at him. “There are many who would do as I bid them, sir. I choose to do this myself.”

“Ah,” he acknowledged with a smile, “you must enjoy the garden. The selection of herbs brings you satisfaction.”

She began to rise and his hand was ready to lend assistance. She warily allowed this and came slowly to her feet. There were two round brown spots on her apron from kneeling in the soft dirt. “I planted the herbs myself, sir, and so it is my wont to harvest them myself.”

“In England it is not considered good fashion for a noblewoman to engage in the labors of serfs and servants.”

Aurélie smiled in spite of herself. Did Ryland mean to educate her on the style of the English? But she had watched Hyatt, who she suddenly realized was quite like herself in this respect. He was not too high a lord of men to perform even the lowest task if it was a chore that needed doing. He liked activity and detested extended leisure. He was no less able to delegate work to others, nor did anyone ever dare to question his command. Hyatt would be amused to have someone criticize him for shoveling up a pile of horse dung or pounding the dents out of his own shield.

“I think I would be most bored in your country. In our fashion, work is noble and laziness is a sin. I doubt you will find that any of my people do not know who is mistress here, despite my poor costume.”

“Yea, this I have noticed as well. You have trained them very nicely.”

“Trained them?” She chuckled. “Sir Ryland, I beg you consider how seriously a servant will follow orders to cure meat if the one who issues the orders cannot say how ’tis done. That, as in any task, is the essential: to give instruction in the chore. Since I was a small girl I have been taught each task to be done in my home so that I can see each is properly completed. Can you order work done without ever having done it yourself?”

“Certainly,” he said rather stiffly, tucking one hand into the central fold of his gambeson and seeming to look skyward.

“And your English estate prospers?” she asked.

He seemed nearly to flinch and his eyes were on her face instantly. “What do you hear of my lands, my lady? Does Hyatt criticize what I have?”

She bent to pick up her basket. “He has never mentioned you, nor what you have. Even now that you are here, he does not wish to discuss you with me.”

“Ah, and have you not wondered why?”

“Nay, I have only …”

“I will tell you why. Though I was the firstborn, I was weak and small as a child. Three years after my birth came Hyatt, large and strong from the beginning. We were the same size when I was ten and he seven. Yet he was the robust child, and our father decided early that I would not survive and Hyatt should be taught the workings of the land and keep; Hyatt was prepared to take what I would not live to inherit. He was the favored one, always. My father, I think, was disappointed to find that I survived and, in fact, became stronger and larger each passing year. But he was glad that I survived when that black day came when Hyatt was accused of tampering with his wife.”

The tone of self-pity mixed with anger in Ryland’s voice caused Aurélie to listen carefully to his words. So the jealousy was the first impetus to all their problems. Lord Laidley had wrongly shown favoritism to his younger son, and the problems had begun. Before the end had come, all of them had been deeply hurt, not only Hyatt.

“Messire, by your own words, Hyatt was not at fault … but your father.”

“I do not dispute that. But neither did Hyatt strive to set that problem aright.”

“Oh. Does he threaten your demesne?”

Ryland looked off, irritated. She remembered what she had overheard from the knights; had Ryland been responsible for the breach of love between father and favored son? Had he done the dreadful deed with Faustina because he was so tormented he could not resist revenge? If so, Ryland had tripled the crime now, for he seemed propelled by a vengeful cause, driven by bitter memories from his childhood.

“Sir Ryland,” she said as gently as she could, “I think you and your brother have been hurt enough by your father’s poor judgment. You have your father’s demesne and it is safe from Hyatt. He has fought and won his own lands despite his impoverished beginnings. ’Tis done now. I think you only do yourself harm by clinging to bitterness and hate.”