For Love And Honor (39 page)

“No.” Rohaise’s gray eyes were clear and only
slightly shadowed by the happenings of that day. “What I said to
you yesterday was the truth of it, Sir Piers. For years Radulf has
been unable to perform his husbandly duty toward me. What I told
Baird was merely a poor attempt to keep him from calling Radulf
into the hall. I hoped to give you and Sir Alain time to think of a
way to escape. But my attempt at delay failed. I am not very good
at that sort of thing.”

“There you are wrong, my lady.” Piers
breathed a sigh of relief. “You are remarkably good.”

“Does it matter whether I lay with my late
husband or not?” she asked, and narrowly observed his reaction to
her question.

“It matters a great deal,” Piers said.
“Though why it should, I cannot understand. I scarcely know you. It
should not matter to me.”

“But we are old friends,” she told him. “I
marked you well when I met you at Joanna’s wedding. It’s how I
recognized you so quickly when you returned. I never could forget
your dark eyes or the way you were so polite to me when Radulf was
always so coarse

“Rohaise.” He let his hand glide softly along
her cheek, and she turned her face into his palm, relishing his
touch.

“I would very much like to hear the true
story of your wanderings after you left England,” she said. “I
imagine it would be a long and interesting tale, and a most
romantic one. Will you tell me all of it?”

“At the moment I do not feel like talking.”
He let his thumb rub across the lower margin of her lips.

His voice sank to a level just above a
whisper, but soft as it was, still Rohaise could hear the wonder in
his next words. “Once, love sought me out, but for almost two years
I refused to see it. I am older now, and wiser, and I know how
brief life is. I shall not be so blind a second time.”

“I have never known love from a man,” she
murmured. “Nor gentleness, nor kindness, either, until you kissed
me that first night.”

“I did not mean it then.”

“I know. I knew as much when you did it,” she
said, smiling at the memory.

“If I were to kiss you now,” he whispered, “I
would mean it.” To his surprise, she stepped backward, so that his
hand dropped from her face.

“Not here,” she said. “Not with Radulf lying
in there, unburied, and not in this place where I lived so
unhappily with him. Joanna has expressed a wish to visit Crispin’s
tomb, and to leave Banningford as soon as possible. When we are at
Haughston, my lord baron of Ascoli, I am certain I will feel,” she
paused, searching for the right words “I will feel more
receptive.”

“I will be patient,” Piers promised, “though
it will be difficult.”

“Will it, my lord? How flattering.” She gave
him a bright smile, entirely at variance with her sober widow’s
dress. The smile was quickly smothered when Will appeared, leading
his mother to the chapel to pray at Radulf’s bier, with Alain
behind them. No matter that Rohaise’s heart was singing at her
sudden freedom from Radulf’s harsh rule, there were formalities to
be observed, and she knew they were important to Will. The boy had
entirely too much to absorb at the moment. She would do what she
could to make his path easier, which meant disguising her feelings
for Piers while Will was present.

“My lord baron,” Rohaise said to Piers, “will
you join us in the chapel, or would you prefer not to go in?”

“I will go with you,” Piers said. “Radulf
will need all the prayers he can get.”

“That’s generous of you, sir,” Will said,
pausing at the chapel door, “considering what you suffered at my
grandfather’s hands.”

“It’s over now, and continued anger on my
part will only hurt me. It’s time to forgive.” Piers put out his
arm, and Rohaise laid her hand on it. They walked into the chapel
together, behind Will and Joanna and Alain.

*
* * * *

During
the rest of that day and the evening Rohaise kept a discreet
distance from Piers. She centered her attention on Will, who was
making decisions and issuing orders as if he were a much older man.
Because she was watching him so closely, she noticed h
ow
little Will ate, either at
the
midday meal or in the evening, and he disappeared from the hall
before the other inhabitants of Banningford had begun to think of
seeking their beds. Rohaise thought she knew where he would
be.

As she expected, she found him in Joanna’s
old room. He had opened the shutters and he knelt on the window
seat, staring out at the darkness. The room itself was lit only by
star shine and the pale light of a half moon. Rohaise went to Will
and stood behind him without speaking at first. He acknowledged her
presence by a slight movement of his head.

“I always believed she stayed here by her own
decision,” he said. “How cruel my grandfather was, to allow her
only as much of the world as she could see from these two
windows.”

“He did let her walk on the walls whenever
the weather was clear,” Rohaise said, seating herself beside
him.

“Under guard, so she could speak to no one,”
Will replied, his voice filled with bitterness, “and only after you
insisted on that one concession. How terrible for her to know she
was constrained to return here after every walk. And to think I
admired Radulf and wanted to be like him.”

“You left Banningford when you were but seven
years old,” Rohaise reminded him. “After that you only saw him when
he visited the Earl of Bolsover, or when you all met at court.
During those short reunions I am sure Radulf was as charming as he
knew how to be. There was no way for you to know his true
character.”

“I’ve been home for seven weeks,” Will
insisted. “I have been told I am no fool, so why couldn’t I see the
truth of my mother’s situation?”

“Because all of us pretended that what Radulf
claimed was true,” Rohaise said. “We gave you no reason to doubt
him.”

“You lived in fear, too.” Will moved a
little, settling himself more comfortably on the window seat. In
the dim light Rohaise could just barely make out his face. “What a
monster the man was.”

“On the subject of having an heir, I believe
he truly was mad,” Rohaise said. “Perhaps he brooded too long on
his lack of a son. Who can tell how such a mind works? Certainly,
once your father was dead, Radulf felt he had to protect himself
from exposure of his crime and ensure that he would keep the lands
he had gained by his wicked plotting. At least it’s over now, and
we can all begin anew. Will, you have done very well today. Your
father would be proud of you.”

“I know so little about him. All any of you
would tell me was that he was a good and honest man.”

“
So he
was. I think you are very like him.
”
Struck by inspiration, Rohaise leaned forward to
touch his hand. “If you want to know about your father, ask his
best friends and kinsmen. Talk to Piers and Alain.”

“
My new
guardians?” Will’s irritation at the arrangement Ambrose had
insisted upon sou
nded
in
his voice. “I am perfectly capable of managing my own
estates.”

“
Indeed
you are, if what we saw today is any indication,” Rohaise said.
“It’s only for a few months, Will. Piers thinks you ought to be
knighted on your eighteenth birthday. Surely
by
then King Stephen will confirm you as
baron. Use the time until that day to make friends with your
father’s friends. You liked them well enough when they first came
here.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“It’s the sign of a wise man to change with
changing circumstances.” Hearing his low laugh at her comment,
Rohaise went on, asking the question that had remained in her mind
for the greater part of the day. “Have you decided what to do with
Lys? Because if you haven’t, I have a suggestion.”

“Which is?” He sounded more amused than angry
at the mention of Lys. Encouraged, Rohaise spoke quickly.

“
I always
thought it was remarkable for Lys, who was first presented to me as
a mere serf, to be so expert at her duties. Now I know why. She was
raised to be mistress of a manor house. She and I talked while we
prepared Radulf s body, and Lys told me her father had arranged her
marriage to one of his tenants. As his wife Lys would have had the
running of the man’s manor house. But her betrothed and her father
were killed when Radulf took her father’s castle in some baronial
war long before I married Radulf. Since that time the poor woman
has lived in constant fear, as she explained to Ambrose earlier
today. She told me some of the things Baird did to her. I won’t
repeat them;
they are too awful. Baird broke her spirit
with his brutality. If you
punish her, she will never recover. But I believe if you were to
give her useful work to do, she will in time regain some measure of
self-respect.”

“What kind of work?” Will asked.

“I want you to make her your chatelaine. With
Lys managing domestic matters and Owain in charge of defenses,
Banningford will be well run, leaving you free to live here or at
Haughston, whichever you choose.”

“What?” Will exclaimed. “You expect me to
elevate that woman after all her petty cruelties to my mother? She
was never properly respectful of you, either.”

“The way Lys treated Joanna and myself was
largely Baird’s doing and, to some extent, Radulf’s. All three of
us were Radulf’s victims. Joanna and I are free now. I’m asking you
to free Lys, too.”

“Free Lys,” Will said softly into the
darkness. “And my mother wants me to forgive Samira for her
deception. I will never understand women.”

“Give it time,” Rohaise advised. “You aren’t
even eighteen yet.”

On his side of the window seat Will began to
laugh again. The laughter ended on something that sounded
suspiciously like a sob. Rohaise reached out and pulled him to her,
letting him rest his head on her shoulder.

“
I’m
frightened,” he whis
pered, sounding like the boy he still
was. “My world is turned upside
down in an hour; everything I believed about my family was
wrong. And now so much responsibility, so many lives depending on
me, and will depend on me until the day I die. How am I to do it,
Rohaise? How can I make the right decisions?”

“You won’t be alone,” she said. “Piers and
Alain, Samira and your mother and I will all be with you. For what
it’s worth, considering that I only knew him for a few days, I
think your questions are the very ones you father would have asked
in your place. I believe he was a deep thinker, too.”

“When I was a little boy you always knew how
to make me feel better. I’m glad there’s one thing that hasn’t
changed since this morning.” Will sat up and cleared his throat.
When he spoke again he sounded like the true lord of the castle.
“Thank you, Rohaise. I knew you would give me good advice. I shall
follow it. All of it.”

*
* * * *

The crypt at Haughston Castle was built of
unadorned gray stone. Heavy, rounded arches supported the low
ceiling, which was also the floor of the chapel, directly above.
The party from Banningford paused on the steps, waiting for the
servant with the torch to advance into the crypt so they could see
more clearly.

“There are five barons of Haughston interred
here,” Ambrose said, leading the way. “My grand-sires lie there on
your left. Here is my father’s tomb. This one is my older brother’s
resting place.” He paused to lay a hand on the smooth stone. “My
dear brother, who was Crispin’s father. And this one is Crispin’s
tomb.”

They gathered around, looking at the marble
effigy of a young man in armor and helmet.

“Crispin.” Joanna went to her knees. “My
father would never let me come here. He wouldn’t even allow me to
attend Crispin’s funeral.”

“You are here now, my dear.” Rohaise knelt
beside her stepdaughter.

Then the
rest of them
– Alain,
Piers, Will, and Samira – were on their knees, too, and Ambrose was
praying aloud for peace for Crispin’s soul, for the comfort of his
widow and son, and for those men wrongly accused of his murder but
after so many years proven innocent. Lastly, Ambrose prayed for
mercy and forgiveness for those who had taken Crispin’s life, who
now had gone on to face eternal justice. When Ambrose was finished
and the others began to edge toward the stairs, Joanna lingered at
her husband’s tomb. Lightly her fingertips traced the cold sculpted
face.

“
Thi
s looks nothing like the Crispin I
remem
ber,” she said.

“It does not,” Alain agreed. “Very likely the
sculptor never saw Crispin, alive or dead. But I see him again
every time I look at his son.”

“So do I.” Glancing over her shoulder, Joanna
made certain the rest of their party was in the process of
departing the crypt. “You knew Crispin better than I, Alain. Tell
me, do you think he would mind that we are lovers?”

“Crispin had a generous soul. I think he
would be happy for both of us.”

“I hope so. I would never do anything to
sully his memory, or to hurt his son.”

“Crispin’s spirit might be happier,” Alain
said, “if we were husband and wife. And if, as I have begun to
suspect, Crispin’s son resembles his father in his feelings about
the way men should treat women, it would be advisable for us to
betroth ourselves before Will discovers what I have done to you.
Under no circumstances do I want to have to meet that young man
with my sword in my hand.”

“What you have done to me?” Joanna cried.
“I’ve done the same to you, and with equal joy, as well you
know.”

Alain put his hand on the marble shoulder of
Crispin’s effigy in a gesture Joanna had seen him use toward
Crispin when he lived, and toward Piers, too. Alain put out his
other hand and Joanna took it.