For Love And Honor (40 page)

“Crispin,” Alain said, “I do here make my
solemn vow upon your tomb, that I will love and protect Joanna with
my very life. All that I have is hers. Rest easy, old friend, dear
cousin. Your murder is avenged, your widow is free, your son is in
possession of his full inheritance, and you are remembered with
love.”

At a sound on the steps they turned to see
Piers standing there. He came forward at once and laid his hand on
Alain’s shoulder.

“I heard,” Piers said. “I am the witness to
your vow, before God, and Crispin, and the world.”

They remained that way for a time, with
Alain’s hand on Crispin’s shoulder in the familiar, casual gesture
of friendship, with Piers’s hand on Alain’s shoulder in the same
way, and Joanna’s hand in Alain’s. When they finally left, the
crypt was illuminated only by the faint light filtering down the
stairs from the chapel above. It was quiet in the crypt, too,
except for a brief stirring of air that hovered for a moment above
Crispin’s tomb, like a contented, peaceful sigh.

Toward the end of the evening meal Will
announced he had decided to remain at Haughston indefinitely.

“Our years at Banningford were tainted by
Radulf,” he said to Joanna. “Because of that I do not wish to live
there for a while. Let us begin again in a new place.”

“An excellent idea,” said Alain.

“I am glad you approve.” Will had still not
entirely adjusted to the idea of having two guardians, so his
affronted pride tinged his remark to Alain with sarcasm.

“I shall depart tomorrow morning,” Ambrose
said into the uncomfortable silence. “I will take with me two of
your men-at-arms, if you will spare them, Alain, and I’ll head
directly to court. I will do my best for you, but don’t expect a
prompt reply from King Stephen. From all I’ve heard of him, he
never makes a decision if he can put it off until another day.”

“The Earl of Bolsover used to say,” Will
broke in, “that if Stephen would only make a decision and stick to
it, this long war might have ended ten years ago.”

“I think the earl was not far wrong,” Ambrose
said. “At least England is relatively peaceful at the moment. With
Matilda and her son Henry returned to Anjou, and no battles or
sieges to deal with, perhaps Stephen will not be too distracted to
see me. Thank you for mentioning the Earl of Bolsover, Will. I’ll
speak to him, too, and since he knows you well he can put in a word
for speedy confirmation of your titles.

“
Now,
Alain, Piers, since we have let it be publicly known that Radulf
was the
true villain in
Crispin’s death, and since gossip travels quickly, I do not
think you two need fear too greatly for your lives until I
return.”

“I have also sent out word that they are
under my protection,” Will said. “No one will dare to harm them if
the heir to Haughston and Banningford guarantees their safety.”

“Thank you, Will,” Alain responded. “That is
just the sort of generous gesture your father would have made.”

“Would he?” Will looked from Alain to Piers
and back again, open curiosity filling his young face. “I wish you
would tell me everything you can remember about my father.”

“It will take a long time,” Alain said,
wondering whether to start with the day when three lonely young
pages had met and innocently decided to be friends, or if he ought
to tell about some amusing youthful scrape instead.

“Perhaps,” Piers suggested, “we can talk
about Crispin each evening as we sit together over meat and wine.
Or if some event during the day raises a memory, we can tell you as
we work together.”

“Yes,” Will replied with the first enthusiasm
he had shown toward either Alain or Piers since they had come to
Haughston. “I would like that.”

Alain
knew what Piers was doing. He was arranging a way for Alain and
Will to learn to know each other g
radually, while talking
about a subject dear to all of them.

Alain and
Joanna had not told Will of their plan to marry. The lovers and
Piers were scarcely out of the crypt where they had pledged their
troth before they had come close to quarreling over
Joanna’s
insistence on waiting.

“Will thinks he is too old to have
guardians,” she said, “and I think he still believes that I bear an
immortal love for Crispin. Let him grow used to your presence,
Alain. Let him learn to know and like you. I am certain it won’t
take long, Then, when we do tell him, he will be more accepting of
our love.”

“I don’t need anyone but you to accept my
love for you,” Alain responded. “The boy has had enough of lies and
evasions. I think we ought to tell him at once, and let him deal as
best he can with our intention to marry. Let it be now, while he
has other changes in his life and new responsibilities to distract
him, so he won’t be thinking only of us.”

“I will not upset him!” Joanna cried. “Not
when he has just learned terrible things about his grandfather. We
will wait until I am prepared to tell him or I will not marry you
at all.”

Taken aback by this unexpected threat, Alain
agreed to wait for a while to announce their betrothal.

“
But in
nothing else will I w
ait,” he said, not
caring that Piers stood beside them. “You are my
true love and we have been separated for too many years. See to it
that you have a room to yourself, for I plan to visit you every
night.”

“Alain, hush, please.” Joanna blushed, her
throat and face and even her ears turning bright pink.

“We are betrothed; we have a witness to our
vows, so there is nothing wrong in our lying together,” Alain said.
“You belong to me now, and I will never allow us to be parted
again.”

“What will Piers think?” Joanna cried.

“That he’s glad to see you happy,” Piers
said, grinning at them. “If you will excuse me, I really ought to
have a long talk with my daughter.”

“Well, my lady,” Alain said when they were
alone, “will you see to it that you have a private chamber? Until
Will marries you are the lady of this castle. How will you dispose
your guests?”

They were still standing at the top of the
crypt steps, which emerged aboveground behind the chapel altar.
Apparently deep in thought, Joanna walked around the altar, down
two steps, and into the nave before she stopped to answer his
question. She looked backward at him over her shoulder.

“I shall dispose them conveniently,” she
said, her eyes dancing. “Which I suppose means I will have to
situate Rohaise near Piers. Perhaps you and he could share a room,
since neither of you intends to sleep there.”

“Piers and Rohaise? You must be joking.”

“Perhaps Piers will sleep in his own chamber
for a while yet. Rohaise is behaving with all the somber propriety
expected of a new widow, but I think it is done largely for Will’s
sake, and I’d wager it won’t last long.” Joanna looked amused.
“Haven’t you noticed how much Piers likes my stepmother?”

“But he loved his wife,” Alain protested.

“Does that mean he can never love anyone
else? Alain, I want you to tell me about Piers’s wife. Was he kind
to her?”

“He claimed to be marrying her for purely
practical purposes,” Alain replied. “At the time he spoke to me as
if he had serious reservations about the arrangement. Piers is
entirely too clever for his own happiness and sometimes for his own
safety, and he continually questions his own motives. I think he
secretly loved Yolande from the beginning of their marriage, yet
for some reason he couldn’t admit it to himself or to her. But once
Samira was born there was never any question about his devotion.
Everyone who knew them knew they loved each other deeply. When
Yolande died Piers was so heartbroken that Samira became afraid for
his life and begged me to think of some way to bring back his
interest in living. My attempt to do so resulted in our return to
England at this particular time.”

“Would he treat Rohaise well?”

“
Without
a doubt. But he loved Yolande so much that I wonder if he could
care for Roha
ise
enough
to make her happy.”

“Alain, I do not know if you are blessed or
cursed because you can love only one woman,” Joanna said. “Some of
us can love more than once. I was extremely fond of Crispin, though
it was a far milder emotion than what I feel for you. There are
different kinds of love. And there are people who marry several
times and live contentedly with each spouse. Perhaps Piers is one
of those. I do know,” she added, moving closer and turning the full
power of her sapphire eyes on him, “that once the heart is opened
by a great love, there is room in it for more beloved people, not
fewer. If Piers truly loved his wife, it may well be that he can
love Rohaise, too.”

*
* * * *

Haughston was a larger castle than
Banningford, so it was easy enough to give each person of the three
couples now in residence private, if small, rooms. Because no woman
had lived there since the death of Crispin’s mother some thirty
years previously, the castle lacked comforts.

“There is so much to do here,” Joanna said to
the other women as they inspected unused bedchambers and an
inadequately stocked stillroom. “I will need both of you to help me
make this dreary castle livable again.”

Rohaise had long years of experience and
Samira had been well trained by her mother. Under Joanna’s
supervision they set to work the day after their arrival. Soon the
castle was engulfed in a bustle of domestic activity. Rooms were
cleaned. Seamstresses were called in from the village to help in
making cushions and coverlets and bedcurtains. Old linens were
darned and laundered, quilts and moldy pillows beaten to remove the
dust and then aired in the winter sunshine to freshen them still
more.

Meanwhile, the men reorganized the
administration of Radulf’s baronies, replacing many of his officers
with men of Will’s own choosing. When the weather was fit the men
and women rode out together on hunting parties intended to bring in
fresh meat to supplement the adequate but boring supplies of dried
or salted meats available in the castle kitchen. The long winter
evenings were filled with talk and laughter, for Will was beginning
to unbend toward Alain and Piers.

“By now he must know everything there is to
know about Crispin,” Alain said to Joanna one evening. They were
sitting at the high table, and he glanced toward where Piers was
talking to Will while Samira and Rohaise listened.

“
And
almost everything about you and Piers,” Joa
nna added. “For
every question about his fa
ther
he asks one about the two of you.”

“I’ve noticed. My love, now that he knows me
better, I think we should inform him of our plans to marry.”

“Not yet,” Joanna said. “Wait until after
Twelfth Night.”

“While I will admit to a certain extra
excitement each time I secretly creep into your bedchamber,” Alain
replied, “still, I would rather go openly and boldly, as your
husband.”

“It’s not so long to wait. Christmas is only
three days away,” she noted.

“After my extreme patience in this matter you
will probably expect me to be an indulgent husband,” Alain teased.
Catching her hand, he pressed a lingering kiss on her fingers. “For
you, Joanna, I would wait until the end of time if I had to. But,
please, I implore you, let us tell him sooner than then, so that
when we are finally wed we will not be too aged to enjoy our
married state.”

They kept
the holy day quietly, as Will insisted they ought to do that year,
but they could not deny holiday pleasures to the servants,
men-at-arms, or the villagers of Haughston, who had scarcely known
Baron Radulf and who had no reason to mourn his death. From the day
after Christmas to Twelfth Night there was a feast every midday,
with entertainments lasting well into
the night. All who
lived in or near Haughs
ton were
invited. When a wandering minstrel appeared at the castle gate
offering music and fanciful stories in return for food and lodging,
Joanna hired him at once. For those who liked rougher entertainment
there was no shortage of wrestling matches between the men-at-arms
belonging to Alain or Piers and those men attached to the
castle.

On the third night after Christmas, while
everyone else listened to the minstrel’s songs, Piers pulled
Rohaise out of the hall and into a shadowy corner.

“What are you doing, sir?” she demanded.
“What are you holding? It’s too dark here for me to see
clearly.”

“A mistletoe berry.” He held it up between
two fingers.

“I believe it is used,” she informed him. “I
saw you a while ago, kissing one of the kitchen maids.”

“’
Twas
she who captured me,” he said, laughing. “I had nothing to do with
it, and I fear she was greatly disappointed by my lack of
enthusiasm. This berry, lady, is fresh and pure as the snow falling
outside,
and with it I claim a kiss.”
He put his arms around her, but she pushed against
his chest, holding him off.

“Will you mean it this time, Sir Piers?” She
sounded like a frightened young girl.

“Rohaise, there is nothing I want more at
this moment than to kiss you.”

“That’s not to say you’ll mean it. Have you
been drinking too much?”

“I am not Radulf!” He flung away, turning his
back on her. “You have been so distant since we came to Haughston
that I begin to think you dislike me.”

“That’s not it.” She was quiet for a moment,
until she moved around to face him. “Piers, I don’t know how to
respond to a man who treats me kindly, who does not order me about
or say coarse things to me in front of others.”