For Love And Honor (27 page)

Banningford had been besieged once during the war between
Stephen and Matilda, but it had not been taken. Joanna believed it
was impossible for anyone to take the castle. She knew the strength
of its
high, wide walls all too well. For every day of her
life she had felt the oppressive weight of those stone walls
confining her, im
prisoning her
spirit and her hope until she believed that only death would free
her.

Hearing a sound borne upward on the wind,
Joanna smiled sadly, recognizing her son’s voice. She tilted her
head to hear it better. But the sound she loved was overridden by
another voice, almost equally as dear to her.

“
Joanna,
close the shutter. I cannot bear the cold. My fingers turn white.”
Rohaise wrapped her arms across her chest, tucking her hands into
her armpits to warm them. “Joanna,
please.
“

“
There is
a party of travelers on the road.” Here, so high in the tower, the
arrow slits of lower levels gave way to narrow twin windows in this
room and in the lord’s chamber directly above. Joanna leaned out of
the window, trying to get a better look. “Six of them; four men and
two women, I think. They are so bundled up against the cold that
it’s hard to tell. They must be mad to se
ek shelter
here.”

“Will you kindly come out of that window?”
Rohaise stood as close to the charcoal brazier as she could get
without singeing her clothes. “Joanna, we will both freeze.”

“They’ve reached the south tower where the
road turns. There is nothing more to see.” Joanna latched the
shutter and came to the brazier, shivering. “Poor travelers, abroad
on such a day.”

“They will find no warmth or comfort at
Banningford,” Rohaise said. “Baird will send them away. He always
does.”

*
* * * *

“I don’t like this one bit,” Piers muttered
to Alain. “We should not use Samira in this way. It’s too dangerous
for her. I should have insisted that she stay at St. Justin’s. She
would be safe with Uncle Ambrose.”

“
The task
ahead of us is vitally important to me, too, Papa.” Samira had
heard him. “We agreed that it will up to me to keep attention
focused on myself, so you and Theo Alain can pass into
Banningf
ord unrecognized.”

“
We
aren’t likely to be recognized after all these years,” Piers
grumbled, still not reconciled to the part Samira was to play. “Not
when we have wrinkles and beards, and certainly not when no one
expects to see us here. Radulf may h
ave forgotten all about
us by now.”

“Never think so,” Alain warned. “Samira, be
sure always to remember our new names. Your father is Spiros, and I
am Lucas. A mistake about our names could be costly.”

“
I will
not forget, guardsman Lucas.” Samira fla
shed a smile at him,
then looked toward Ban
ningford
Castle. “Heavens, what a gloomy place it is.” She drew hard on her
reins, bringing her horse to a halt at the edge of the moat, where
the road ended. Her companions stopped also, Piers and Alain on
either side of her, the others ranged behind. Samira pushed back
her hood so any watching men-at-arms could see she was indeed a
female. She sat proudly upon her horse, refusing to let herself
shiver, ignoring the long strands of her glossy black hair when the
w
ind pulled
them free
from her single braid and whipped them about her face. Across the
moat a mailed and helmeted figure appeared on top of the wall, and
a heavy masculine voice flung out the guardsman’s well-known
challenge.

“Who goes there?”

“
I am the
lady Samira of Ascoli.” They had agreed not to mention Sicily, in
case some rumor of Alain’s or Piers’s life there had reached
England and Radulf’s ears. “I claim the traveler’s right to food
and lodging until this storm abates. Good sir, lower the
drawbridg
e and let us in.”

“Go away.”

“We are weary and badly chilled,” Samira
called back. “There is no other suitable place nearby where we can
take shelter for the night.”

“That’s your concern, not mine.”

Now there appeared beside the guard on the
wall a taller, bareheaded man whose fair hair was ruffled by the
strong wind. This man leaned over the battlement, looking at the
party below, counting their number.

“
Let down
the drawbridge!” the newcomer ordered in a clear voice that carried
beautifully to
Samira’s ears.

“
But, my
lord
…” objected the
guard.

“Would you let a lady freeze to death? Lower
the drawbridge. At once!” In a less commanding voice, the young man
called out to Samira, “I will meet you in the outer bailey, my
lady, and conduct you to the great hall.” He disappeared from
sight, and the drawbridge began to come down.

“There, you see, Papa, you do need my help.
Left to yourselves, you could never enter Banningford so easily.”
Samira urged her horse forward to the wooden bridge. Piers pushed
his mount in front of hers.

“I go first,” he said to her. “Stay between
me and Alain at all times. It won’t look strange; we are your
guards, after all.”

There was just room enough for them to ride
single file through the long, narrow entrance that turned first to
the left and then to the right, until they finally reached the
outer bailey. Here the high castle walls sheltered them from the
wind, but icy rain and sleet still fell upon them. And here, at the
foot of the staircase that led upward to the guards’ walkway at the
top of the wall, stood the blond young man upon whose orders the
travelers had been admitted. He came toward them at once, smiling
in welcome with one hand extended.

“Holy God in heaven!” Alain swore, catching
his breath.

“Sweet Jesus!” Piers uttered at the same
instant.

If they had been attacked at that moment,
neither man would have been capable of offering any aid to Samira.
Alain and Piers could do nothing but sit upon their horses, gaping
at the man approaching them. He seemed the ghost of their
long-dead, murdered cousin, a reincarnation of Crispin’s youthful
form.

“Welcome to Banningford Castle, Lady Samira.”
The young man caught at the reins of Samira’s horse. “I am Lord
William Crispin, and your most devoted servant, my lady. We are not
accustomed to guests, but I shall see to it that everything
possible is done to make you comfortable.”

“I thank you, sir. Are you the baron of this
castle?” Samira knew full well he was not, but her mission was to
keep people looking at her, so she gave the young man her most
brilliant smile and remained on her horse, where she could easily
be seen by all the men-at-arms in the bailey and on the
battlements.

“My grandfather, Baron Radulf, rules here,”
said William Crispin. “He is away from home just now. Allow me to
see you to the great hall.”

Still holding on to the reins of Samira’s
horse, William Crispin led it diagonally across the outer bailey to
a second stone wall.

“How well defended you are,” Samira murmured,
ducking her head so she could fit through the low, sharply angled
passage in the wall. “I believe it would be impossible for any army
to swoop down upon Banningford and take it.”

“
It was
built for warfare,” William Crispin said. “You may be
famili
ar with more luxurious cas
tles, but I was born at Banningford, and my mother lives
here, so it is home to me.”

“Your mother?” They were out of the
passageway now and well into the inner bailey, where there was
plenty of room for her to move, but Samira did not dare to look
backward at either Alain or Piers. She kept her eyes on William
Crispin’s face. When he held up his arms she set a hand on each of
his shoulders and let him lift her off her horse. He was strong; in
his hands she felt light as a spring blossom drifting toward the
ground. Dear heaven, how handsome he was, his blue-eyed fairness so
different from the darker men of Sicily. Samira stood trying to
catch her breath, with his hands still at her waist and her face
raised toward his. She heard her father clear his throat and at
once recalled her duty. “I look forward to meeting your mother, my
lord.”

“
You
cannot.” William Crispin’s face changed, becoming closed and
distant. “By her own choice, my mother sees no one except close
family members. Bu
t my step-grandmother is here,
so you will have a suitable chaperone for
your visit.”

William Crispin held out his arm, and Samira
placed her fingers upon it. With a courtly gesture of his free
hand, he started toward the entrance to the west tower, taking
Samira with him. They were stopped at once by the sheer bulk of the
tallest, brawniest, ugliest man Samira had ever seen. Beneath a
fringe of gray-streaked brown hair, a pair of shrewd brown eyes
glared at her. The man’s nose looked as if it had been broken more
than once, and his face was seamed by exposure to the elements and
more deeply furrowed by several long scars.

“Baird,” said William Crispin, “we have a
guest.”

“Guest?” Baird repeated, frowning until his
face cracked into even greater ugliness. “I’ve had no order from
Radulf about any guest.”

“The lady is a traveler in need of shelter,”
William Crispin explained. “We could not turn her away.”

“I would have.” Baird did not move.

“But it’s not your castle, is it?” William
Crispin looked at Baird with raised eyebrows and a hard expression,
until Baird moved aside, allowing the younger man to conduct Samira
toward the tower entrance.

“Who are all these people?” Baird demanded,
watching as Samira’s company dismounted.

“
They are
my s
ervants,” Samira said. “Two
knights who are my personal guards, their two squires, and
my maidservant. Surely, in a castle as strong as Banningford, you
do not find four men and two women to be a threat?”

“Baron Radulf does not allow guests,” Baird
insisted.

“I will take full responsibility for
admitting Lady Samira to Banningford,” William Crispin told
him.

“Well, then,” said Baird, most ungraciously,
“it’s on your head, not mine. You can explain this woman’s presence
here to Radulf when he returns. What of the men? Where are they to
be quartered? You there; that’s not the way to the stables,” he
yelled at one of the squires.

“
The
servants do not understand your language at all, though the
guardsmen do speak a little Norman French,” Samira said,
as
she had
been instructed to do.
“My maidservant will sleep in the chamber with me. My guards will
sleep outside my chamber door, as they always do. The two squires
will be content in the stables with the horses, if you will be good
enough to show them where to go.”

Every member of their company did, in fact,
speak perfect Norman French, but no one at Banningford was to know
it. Thus, they hoped the inhabitants of the castle would talk
freely in the presence of the servants, while Samira, Alain, and
Piers could ask questions of their hosts.

The entrance of strangers where no unknown
people ever came had brought servants and men-at-arms to gape at
the beautiful young woman being escorted into the great hall. And
the whispered news had brought Lady Rohaise from the upper levels
of the western tower.

“Will,” she cried, hurrying toward the young
man with Samira, “my dear boy, what are you doing?”

“Only what I was taught to do while I was
fostered at Bolsover Castle,” said William Crispin. “I am showing
respect and generosity toward a lady who was close to freezing.
Banningford ought to be a more hospitable place.”

“Hospitable? Oh, Will, you have been away for
too many years,” Rohaise said. “And you have returned too recently
to understand Radulf’s wishes in such cases.”

“So I told him.” Baird had followed Samira’s
party into the great hall. “But he would not listen.”

“If my presence here is inconvenient for
you,” Samira said, putting on her loftiest manner, “then we will
depart at once and spend this frigid night in the forest.”

“It would be best,” said Baird, who, ten
years before, had been promoted to captain of the guard and who
took seriously the responsibilities of his position. “We have to
obey Baron Radulf’s orders.”

“But how can we ask them to leave now?”
murmured Rohaise. She rubbed at her chapped fingertips. “It is much
too cold to send anyone away.”

“You certainly will not leave,” William
Crispin declared to Samira. “Rohaise, I want the small chamber in
the western tower prepared for our guest.”

“The western tower?” Rohaise said, looking
frightened. “Surely some other room would be more suitable.”

“Not at all,” said the young lord. “The
chamber that was my mother’s when she was a girl will be exactly
the right accommodation for an honored guest. Rohaise, I want hot
meats, fresh bread, and spiced wine for the evening meal. And a
clean cloth on the high table. I want you to sit there with us, to
keep Lady Samira company.”

“But, Will, you know I always eat with -”
Rohaise shut her mouth, looking desperate.

“Baird, don’t you have something to do on the
outer wall?” asked William Crispin.

“Aye, my lord, but first I’ll send my woman
to tend to your guest.”

“There is no need to disturb Lys.” Rohaise’s
voice was unnaturally high and tense. “I will personally see to
Lady Samira’s comfort. You know I can be depended upon, Baird.”

“I hope so, for your sake,” Baird said
rudely. With a last annoyed look in Samira’s direction, he stamped
out of the hall. He apparently ignored Rohaise’s declaration and
located his woman at once, for by the time Samira and Rohaise
reached the assigned chamber in the western tower, Lys was already
there, directing the cleaning of the room.