Knight's Honor (41 page)

"Part of it?" Elizabeth pulled away so that she could see Roger's face. "Is that not all of it to you? What use have you for me except that and my breeding an heir for you? Your home does not need a woman, your mother is here. Your business does not need a woman for you are too strong to want help or support—"

"Even if what you say were true, is it love to deny me the one thing I desire from you?"

There was a long silence during which Elizabeth crept miserably back into her husband's arms. He accepted her, but he made no effort to hold her close or to caress her. The candles began to gutter and first one and then another went out. The fresh odor of spring in the room was mixed with the scent of burnt wax, and Elizabeth became conscious too of the acrid odor of Roger's healthy male body against which she was pressing herself.

"I cannot," she whispered brokenly. "If my will could have given you that, you would have had it. It is true that at first I was unwilling to grant you that final power over me, but that night—the night we came away from Nottingham—I tried. I did try, Roger. I could not."

Hereford released his breath in a long sigh, and Elizabeth realized that he had been holding it while she spoke, so intent had he been on every word. "That was—that was not the right time, Liza." His voice trembled slightly and he put up a hand to stroke her hair, an expression of deep satisfaction softening his face. "Undo your braids, love, and try if you can sleep. I will torment you no more."

CHAPTER 14

THE SUN MOVED SLOWLY ACROSS THE RUSH-STREWN, STONE-FLAGGED
floor, making motes of dust from the dry rushes glitter like minute stars. Hereford, with heavy-lidded eyes, watched them dance in the slight current of air that came through the open window. Today he would begin the muster of vassals whom he had not called to arms earlier, keeping them in reserve, although they had been warned to be ready for this ride north. It was unfortunate that Henry was here, for Hereford had no particular desire for any close contact between his vassals and the future king. It was not that Hereford contemplated changing his loyalties and feared that his vassals would remain attached to Henry; it was merely that he knew some of them would prefer to hold directly from the king and that Henry would by no means be impervious to this suggestion. Hereford had no desire to be engaged in a series of squabbles with his vassals and Henry as to who was whose overlord.

He needed only two days or three, but in the long hours of a sleepless night he had been able to think of no adequate way to rid himself of Henry for that period of time without rousing his suspicions. In his concentration he had forgotten that he had left the bed curtains open, and now the sunlight fell across Elizabeth's face, waking her. Her first sensation was one of loss, for she had fallen asleep in Roger's arms and now the bed was empty. She started up, half asleep.

"Gone," she cried, "he is gone without a word of farewell."

She sounded like a lost child instead of a mature woman. Hereford was so moved that be stumbled in his haste to reach her. "No, Elizabeth, I am here."

She clutched at him too like a child, but almost immediately became fully awake and drew back with a shamed smile that faded as she took in Hereford's blue-ringed eyes. "Did you not sleep at all, Roger?"

"Not much."

"But I thought—"

"It is nothing to do with you, Elizabeth," he replied, pulling her back into his embrace.

She was silent. As things stood between them now, she felt she could ask nothing further. Hereford's hesitation was due to no doubts of Elizabeth, however. In this matter they would surely be one, for her ambition could brook no diminution of her husband's power. He was mistakenly trying to spare her any worry on that score, failing to realize, as usual, that political problems reacted differently on Elizabeth than on himself. To her their challenge offered stimulation not depression.

"I must go," he said finally. "I should have gone down hours ago. Henry must be wondering what has become of me."

"Wait, I will dress and go also. Then you may say I kept you."

"May I, Liza?" He smiled and stroked her hair. A woman's hair was a lovely thing, silken, soft, and soothing. Hereford leaned forward and buried his face in Elizabeth's, breathing the scent she used and her warm, sleepy, animal odor. "Have you no shame?" he murmured mischievously.

"Better he should think that than that you were hatching plots against him."

"Nonsense, Elizabeth," Hereford replied sharply, moving away. "I am a rebel and a wolf's-head for his sake. I would need to be mad to do such a thing."

For an instant Elizabeth considered holding her tongue. Her husband's present warmth was very precious to her and she did not wish to make him angry, but in the long run his welfare was more important than his mood.

"Nonsense yourself, Roger." She could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out; that was not the way to begin. She rose and went to him, catching his hands and holding them against her breast. "I only desire your good. I have no quarrel with your overlord, but he has not lived among people worthy of trust—you told me that yourself. Can you not see that he is so trained that he distrusts even himself?"

"Oh, in that way, yes, he is suspicious. I suppose you are right," he added grudgingly, and then burst out, "I wish I could be rid of him for a day or two."

"For God's sake, Roger, say nothing to him."

She almost added that he should let her manage Henry, but recollected herself in time. Roger was not her father. She would have to do her best without telling him what she planned.

Elizabeth's plans, quickly made from long practice in dealing with Maud, whose mind was, if anything, even more suspicious and devious than Henry's, worked well. She found Henry restless, bored, and impatient, and, remaining blind to her husband's black looks, set herself to cajole the Angevin into good humor. She did tell him, as she had promised, as much as she could about Maud, but she pointed out that she could tell him only of that part of the queen which she exposed to women.

"The one who really knows her, who has matched wits with her more than once and come away scatheless—and that cannot be said of many—is the Earl of Gaunt, he who was Lord Radnor."

"That I know. I had looked forward also to having speech with him on other matters, but he did not come as he promised." Henry's face darkened.

"Not through lack of loyalty,” Elizabeth said hastily. “You know his father died and he was bound to take homage of his vassals. My lord, he could not let it wait, even for a few weeks. You do not know the Welsh. I have lived on the borders of the Marches all my life. They are a mad, fearsome people. They cannot be once conquered and then lightly guarded. Gaunt will be no courtier to you; nor will he send you men, nor will he send you money. Yet his life will be spent in your loyal service for it is he and his like that keep the Welsh from flooding back into England."

Henry snorted impatiently. "That is because no strong force with a steady purpose has been sent against them. That is the king's fault. It is his duty to subdue rebellious provinces so that the land may lie in peace and the lords do their proper service to the king."

"My lord, I may not say you nay, it is not my place—"

Henry guffawed. "You mean you wish to sweeten me for something." His eyes were kind but calculating. "I am afraid that you, like Moses, would say even the Lord nay if that was your desire."

The golden eyes sparkled with shared amusement. "I cannot deny that I certainly wish to keep you good-humored, but in the matter of the Welsh, truly, I care not enough one way or another to oppose your will. However, I do not think they can be conquered in the usual way. You should see the country. It is full of bolt holes, caves, gullies, hidden valleys, and all covered with thick forests. And the Welsh themselves are as clever as wild animals at concealment, and brave—they are the finest fighters in the world, I think."

"Then why not use them?” Henry cocked his head. “Into the king's armies with them. If they wish to fight, let them fight for their master."

Elizabeth laughed. "How simple and beautiful, could it be done. Nay, my lord, their trouble, the reason why they do not rule England, is
that they will brook no discipline—not even from their own chiefs. If it were not so, I make bold to say we Normans would have set no foot in their country. The Britons are not Saxon clods."

Elizabeth was putting forth one of her greatest efforts to seem interested without eagerness, and she was succeeding. Henry it was who now seemed eager. All trace of ill-humor vanished, he questioned and questioned. Elizabeth obligingly stripped her brain for him, knowing that her fund of knowledge could never satisfy his insatiable desire for definite information. Only when she was drained absolutely dry upon every topic did she refer to Gaunt again.

"He knows more than anyone alive, save perhaps Mortimer, who will not tell, about them and the country. Since fifteen he has fought them in the forests and on the plains, in the hills and through the valleys. A good part of his blood is Welsh also and some of his kinsmen are full-blooded Welsh."

Henry sighed. "I would like to look on that land, and I have a great lust to speak to Gaunt. Also I would like to know whether he means to hold by his father's will and do me homage now that he wields all the power."

"Of that last, I believe I can assure you,” Elizabeth said. “He is in no way changeable. Painscastle is but an easy day's ride.” She shrugged. “It is a pity you have not time to go."

Hereford, who had been listening sullenly to the entire conversation, toying with a goblet of wine, rose suddenly from his chair and walked away. "There is no time," he said in a hard voice. "The Welsh can wait. My lord, we have spent too much time already in this idle talk. If I am to muster my men, I must do so."

"How long will the muster take?” Henry asked, frowning. “The men have been summoned to be ready. You need only bid them come."

"Still, it cannot be done in less than three days,” Hereford said. “Furthermore, I wish to go to each keep that is near enough myself to gather them. Thus I can see that they give me their best instead of sending raw, untrained men in castoff arms as they might do if I merely summon them. It is well for a man to have a close eye to his vassals' doings. You should come with me."

There was a bare hint of authority in that last sentence and the tiniest flicker of impatience. Elizabeth felt like applauding; she did not know that Roger had so much deception in his soul.

In truth, he did not. The tone was perfectly sincere. All the time he had been listening to Elizabeth and Henry, he had been fighting a desperate battle between his jealousy and his knowledge of Elizabeth's purpose. Jealousy had won over common sense. Although his mind was sure that his wife merely wished to get Henry out of his way, his heart would give him no peace. One of them would have to go with Henry to Painscastle—and it could not be himself. In spite of Elizabeth's confession of love, or perhaps because of it, he could not tolerate the idea of her being exposed alone to the full impact of "that Angevin charm" for three or four days. He would rather take the chance of contesting Henry's influence with his vassals, but he had not been sufficiently cautious and the direction of his desire showed.

"You do not need me for that," Henry replied stiffly. "I assume your men will respond to your call without my presence to reinforce your authority." He turned to Elizabeth. "Will Gaunt receive us if we arrive without warning, Lady Elizabeth?"

Now that she had won her purpose, Elizabeth was suddenly not sure that Roger had truly understood what she was doing. Perhaps he wanted Henry with him. Had she once again damaged her husband’s plans? Perhaps she had better divert Henry from going to Painscastle.

"I am sure he will, my lord,” she said, “but Gaunt’s willingness is not the point. He may not be at Painscastle, and you would waste your time if he were not. Why not wait until you return south again and give him warning to be at home?"

"I will have less time then and I like unexpected visits better than those for which my host is prepared. Besides, it is never a waste of time to ride through the country. There is always something to be learned. Will you accompany me, Lady Elizabeth? You give her leave?" he asked rather coldly of Hereford.

"As you will, my lord," was Roger's equally icy reply.

"Then if we go right now, we will have three or four clear days in Wales. I can ride north directly from Painscastle to Chester with no loss of time and meet you there, Hereford."

Roger controlled himself with an effort, repeating, "As you will, my lord," but when Elizabeth flew to make ready, knowing of Henry's impatience to set about anything he had decided upon, he followed her. "Have a care for yourself, Elizabeth," he said bitterly.

She looked up from what she was doing in surprise. "Surely, Roger, I can come to no hurt between here and Painscastle. The land is all our own or Gaunt's and well guarded."

"The danger I fear is from our friends, not our enemies."

That puzzled her for a moment, but then she dropped the garments she was holding to throw her arms impulsively about Hereford's neck. "Roger, you darling, you are jealous. You have good cause too." She laughed mischievously. "That man must be a disaster to women, even though he is not nearly as handsome as you are. His manners are marvelous."

"And his morals are atrocious. You will be no safer, being Hereford's wife, than any servant girl."

Elizabeth drew a sharp breath."You cannot make me believe he would force me—"

"I do not try; he likes only complaisant women. I told you to have a care to yourself, not to him." But Hereford's tone was lighter. He had scarcely expected the stately Elizabeth to hang around his neck, particularly in the presence of her maids, nor to rub her cheek against his as she was doing now. He recognized clearly that he had been making a fool of himself.

"Oh, Roger, shame. You of all people to make such remarks. How many men have you cuckolded?" Her voice shook with amusement.