In Honor Bound (29 page)

"Shall I bring your breakfast, my lord?" he whispered.

Philip wiped the sleep out of his eyes and nodded.

"And Her Majesty?" Rafe asked and Philip looked at Rosalynde lying beside him, her breathing slow and deep, her lips softly parted.

"Later."

He was halfway through eating when she finally stirred. She looked puzzled for a moment, then she wrinkled her nose and sat up.

"Eggs."

"They are wonderful," he said around a hearty mouthful, and he held out his spoon to her. "Want some?"

She took a choking breath and quickly turned her head.

"What? Oh, I am sorry."

He set the dish on the bedside table and called for Rafe.

"Take this away, Rafe, and bring Her Majesty some warm milk."

Rosalynde turned even whiter and put both hands over her mouth.

"Water?"

She nodded.

"Water, Rafe, and be quick."

"At once, my lord."

Philip held the cup for her as she drank, but she could only manage a few sips. Seeing his concern, she laughed weakly.

"I only feel a little queasy now and again, my lord. It will pass."

"It must have been dreadful for you these past few days." He took her hand lightly in his own. "I would have never expected such courage would be housed in such tender flesh."

He touched her fingers to his lips, a kiss of admiration and gratitude, and she longed to tell him that everything she had done had been for love of him, but she could not.

"I told you I would watch over you," she said instead.

"I am only sorry you had to soil these fair hands on that swine. You should let me tell everyone that it was you who saved us."

Her stomach churned at the blood-fouled memory. "No, please, my lord. We are safe now. Let it end. I just want to forget Dunois and all his evil. I want you to forget him, too."

He released her hand and lay back against the pillows, looking very tired and very far away. "I cannot forget. Too many things will not let me."

They stayed two more days with their surly host, then made ready to go on to Treghatours. At first Philip insisted on returning to Winton, but already they had news from there that Stephen had fled back to Cold Spring and Tom's men were keeping watch over his movements. Philip's army was in Treghatours already upon Eastbrook's orders, expecting to winter there. There was nothing of any moment to keep him from joining them.

He had Rafe pay Keller over-generously for their food and shelter, then he remembered another debt. He looked out over the squire's people until one of them caught his attention, a boy of about fifteen.

"You are Jerome, yes?"

The boy's eyes widened and he bobbed his head.

"Come here."

Jerome came to him and knelt beside his horse, but Philip leaned down and pulled him to his feet.

"I owe you much, Jerome. What would you have as payment?"

A crooked grin appeared on the boy's face.

"Why, nothing, Your Majesty," he said, tugging at the back of his hair. "I did no more than as I should, though I did never think I might be entertaining kings unawares."

Philip almost grinned, too. "Not quite as the scripture puts it, but I am grateful to you nonetheless. What would you have?"

The boy glanced furtively at his scowling master and then shook his head. "I cannot ask payment, my lord, for Christian charity, I thank you all the same."

Philip also looked at the squire and knew the boy would surely be punished for the trouble he had brought his master.

"How much money do you have left, Rafe?" he asked low.

"Little now, my lord. Shall I give it to the boy?"

Philip shook his head and thought for a moment. "Is that ring precious to you, my lord
Darlington
?"

Darlington
glanced at the emerald and diamonds on his finger, puzzled. "No, my lord, except that it cost me dear."

"Will you trust me for the worth of it?" Philip asked, holding out his hand.

"Of course, my lord."

Philip took the ring from him and tossed it to the squire.

"I am taking this boy, too. That's six or seven times what he cost you, I am certain, though it could not be one-hundredth his worth."

"Take him and welcome," Keller said, examining his prize greedily. "You'll soon find you've made the worst of the bargain. I've no use for the scoundrel traitor."

"Am I to come with you now, Your Majesty?" Jerome asked incredulously.

"If you please to, or take your freedom if you had rather."

"N-no, my lord."

Rosalynde graced him with a warm smile. "We owe you more than we can think to repay, Jerome, and the more for it was given freely." She, too, looked at the squire. "And not without some danger to yourself."

"You have my service so long as it pleases you, my lady, so God make me faithful!"

For hours he walked along at Philip's stirrup, speaking with expert appreciation of the fine horse Rafe had brought him from Treghatours or of the bite to the winter air or the clouds that promised snow. He spoke to his king with friendly deference, and Philip found himself liking the boy, admiring the freeness in his spirit, a freeness he could only envy.

***

At mid-afternoon, Rafe pulled his horse close to Rosalynde's carriage.

"Can you persuade His Majesty to ride with you, my lady? I fear he is not so strong yet as his pride would care to believe."

Rosalynde watched her husband for a moment. He was drooping in his saddle, and she saw by the tired, determined set of his mouth that Rafe had spoken truth. She scrambled for some near-plausible reason for him to rest for awhile. Jerome grinned at her and she smiled back, then she heard him remark once more on the superiority of Philip's horse.

"Did they have such fine horses back at your old master's, Jerome?" she asked casually.

"Never once, my lady. I cannot even hope ever to ride such a fine one, but it is a pleasure just to watch him walk."

"Perhaps my lord will let you ride him one day."

"Oh, no, my lady, I–"

"Perhaps you will favor me with riding him now," Philip said, as she had expected he would.

"Your Majesty, I could not take your horse and leave you to walk. It would not be seemly."

"You would be doing me a service, Jerome. I would like to ride with my lady awhile." He dismounted and leaned into the carriage window. "I hope you have no objections, my lady. He deserves a great deal more than that."

"I would be honored, my lord," she said, and behind him Rafe nodded at her in approval.

"He does well with horses," Philip observed as they went along. "I can tell he's learned much of them in keeping Keller's stables. He might do well apprenticed to my groomsman, not only for being suited to the place, but because he might go some way in easing Hawkins' grief for those he lost at Abbey."

"It would be a wise choice, my lord," she said quickly, before he began to remember too much of that tragedy. "He was of great comfort to me and never lost his good cheer all that time he looked after us."

"He's like Tom, I think."

There was a touch of satisfaction in his weary face as he leaned back in the carriage and shut his eyes. She, too, was satisfied.

***

"Treghatours," Philip murmured, a longing light in his eyes. They had finally emerged from the forest and the castle loomed before them, overawing the sloping meadow below. "Treghatours," he repeated as if to say guardian, refuge, home. All that and more it was to him, Rosalynde read it in his face.

He was drawn and pale and he tired too easily, but the tension that had been in his expression since they had married seemed to lessen, replaced by peace, as if the winter and this well-loved place had given him respite from the insatiable demands of war.

The conflict was not resolved, Stephen still was free, still was king in the eyes of many, but nothing could change that until the two armies could meet again in the spring. For a brief time, Philip could lay down his battered sword and his heavy, tarnished crown. For a breathing while, he could rest.

It was some while before they actually reached the castle, and by then even his eagerness could not keep him awake. Even the hollow rumble of the carriage wheels over the drawbridge did not disturb him.

When they pulled up into the courtyard, Rosalynde saw a little round middle-aged woman bustle down the great stone stairway leading from the hall.

"Have you brought him?" she asked anxiously. "Have you brought my Philip?"

Rosalynde was wondering who she might be to dare address the king so familiarly when the woman thrust her head into the carriage.

"Oh, my poor boy," she clucked, seeing him lying in the cushions, soundly asleep. Seeing Rosalynde, she made a quick curtsey. "Pardon, my lady. Will you come inside now? There is a room ready for you."

Rosalynde put one hand gently on her husband's shoulder. "My lord."

He struggled to sit up. "I hadn't meant to fall asleep again. Are we home?" he asked, then the most amazing smile dawned on his face. "Joan."

Rosalynde saw at once the overwhelming affection this woman had for the boy she had raised and how she was struggling to treat him like her king and not her child.

"Your Majesty," Joan said with another curtsey, her voice holding that soft caressing sweetness that belonged to the north and especially to this place. Forgetting his dignity, she pulled him into her arms and kissed his forehead. "Philip, my honey-love."

For a moment he let her hold him there, then he pulled back, ostensibly so he could look at her.

"You've not changed a bit in all this time, Joan."

"If I have aged, it's been in the last three days, since that ruffian you have keeping care of you came tearing in here with news of the danger you were in."

Rafe glowered at her from astride his horse and Philip started to smile, then he saw the tears in her eyes.

She pulled out a handkerchief. "If I was to lose another of you so soon, I do not know how I would keep my heart from breaking."

"You mustn't let that fret you, Joan," Philip soothed as he climbed out of the carriage. "Tom is in Winton now and safe. And you see you've not lost me either, though I cannot vouch for that if supper is long in being served."

Immediately she was a flurry of action, ordering the servants to set out the huge meal she had had prepared.

"You, young man, shall have your supper in bed."

Philip scowled. "Now, Joan–"

"Not a word, my lord. Make yourself useful, sir," she said, turning to Rafe. "Take your master inside and see he lies down."

"Joan."

"My lord, I know what is best for you."

Rosalynde forced herself not to smile at her husband's exasperated expression.

"Joan, I am your king."

Joan calmly finished her instructions to her helpers, then she turned to him and patted his cheek.

"Of course you are, my lord, and you'll be no worse a king for a good meal and a day or two in your own bed. Now go along and I will come in a bit to see you've been properly cared for."

"I'll not spend two more days in bed," he said in the most authoritative tone he could muster, the one that commanded vast armies, but Joan paid him no heed.

"A week would be better for you," she mused, "but I suppose we mustn't expect miracles."

"Joan."

"Well, go on now. Your lady will want settling in, too, and I cannot care for you both. Master Bonnechamp, see to His Majesty."

"At once, mistress," Bonnechamp said, only just managing to keep his expression dignified. "My lord, will you come?"

Philip frowned stubbornly then, to Rosalynde's amazement, he smiled a little.

"My lady," he said to Rosalynde as he handed her down from the carriage, "you will find soon enough who is most master here, if you cannot see it already. Come, Rafe, let us do as we are bidden or we are both likely to have a switching."

Joan smiled, too. "I've still an arm for it, my lord, if you've a mind to cross me."

"Not for the whole kingdom." He turned to go, then he turned back again. "You will see to my lady, Joan?"

"Of course, my lord," Joan assured him and he and Rafe went inside.

"Will you come in, my lady?" she invited again and Rosalynde nodded gratefully.

"Are there none of your gentlewomen with you, my lady?" Joan asked as they started up the steps.

Rosalynde shook her head, not wanting to remember. "Those I had with me were killed in Abbey."

"I am sorry for it. Still, I shall see you have all you need here. I may not know the courtly ways of your fine ladies, but I used to wait upon my lady Elaine when she was mistress here. Even she found little to complain of in me."

"My lord Philip never speaks of her, but I remember she was very beautiful."

"She was that, my lady. As fine and rare as diamonds and rubies."