Lady of Fire (34 page)

"Well?" she demanded. "It concerns me, does it not? I would not be protected from mere words, Roger." When he did not reply, she moved closer and could see some sort of official seal affixed to the parchment. "Please—what is it?"

Henry read it again and swore softly. "Belesme has turned to Holy Church seeking your return, Eleanor. He charges you cannot have wed Roger because you are already wed to him."

"
What
!" It was nearly a screech. "And they listen to him? Let me see!"

"Aye." Roger nodded grimly. "They listen to him. We are summoned to London to appear before the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Durham and the papal legate to answer Belesme's charge."

"But they are wrong! How can I belong to Count Robert? How could he dare to say such a thing?"

"Eleanor, think—is there anything that could have happened, anything that could have been construed as a binding promise between you and Belesme?" Henry tried to push the thunderstruck girl to a bench, but she stood as though rooted to the floor.

Roger slid an arm around her as she began to shake uncontrollably. "Lea, in fright, did you agree to wed with him?" He drew her closer and began to stroke her hair in spite of Henry's presence. He forced himself to speak with a calmness he did not feel. "We must examine where he came up with his charges so that we can refute them."

"But I promised him nothing! Nay, I refused him and he beat me!"

"Where? At Fontainebleau?" Henry demanded. "Tell me the whole that I may better understand what we ought to do."

"Let her collect her thoughts, my lord. Lea, come sit you down and take a drink of this." Roger led her to the bench and held the cup for her to drink as one would hold for a child. "Here…"

She gulped obediently, pushed away the rest, and took a deep breath to calm her thudding heart. "Nay, I never said anything that he could use for this. Roger, he came to me at Fontainebleau, gloating that he had forced my father to give me to him. He was cold and direct and demanded to see what his sword had bought him. He made me disrobe." She shuddered as she remembered his coldness at first.

"God's teeth! The whore's son!" Henry's hand crept involuntarily to where his sword usually hung from his belt.

"Let her finish. Lea …" Roger's voice was soft and gentle as he dropped to a knee beside his wife. "Lea, what happened then? What did he say? What did you say?"

"He… he kissed me… and he touched me over my body—I thought he meant to ravish me. I… I asked him not to dishonor me—and he laughed. Then he turned me loose and said he was in full armor and had not the time. He handed me my clothes and tried to pledge with me." She stared unseeing into the space before her and remembered it clearly. "He said the words and bade me repeat after him, but I would not. I remembered what you both had said about taking my vows as a nun and I reasoned it would be the same thing. He hit me several times, but I still refused to say what he would have me say, I swear. He frightened me, but I decided I would not be beaten to death like a tame animal. I began to fight back—I scratched at his face—and he began to laugh. His manner changed then and he told me we would pledge in Rouen the first of July. He picked up his helmet and left."

"He did not ravish you? He let you strike him?" Henry seemed amazed that she could have come out of such an encounter with Robert with nothing more than a bruise or two.

"She came to me virgin," Roger stated flatly, "and there's good men and true that can swear to having seen the evidence."

"There's nothing more—nothing else happened?" Henry persisted. "Did you see him alone again?"

"Aye—in Fuld Nevers' stronghold. He kissed me and tried to lie with me, but he did not ask for my pledge." She had to smile at that memory. "Roger cooled his lust with the blade of his sword." She looked up at both men and stated emphatically, "I never said anything at any time that Robert of Belesme could have construed to have been a pledge to wed with him, I so swear. And I will swear to Pope Victor himself that I tell the truth."

"Robert lies." Roger's eyes met Henry's above her. "He lies."

"Aye, but how do we prove it? He must have said something—have told something—that made the Archbishop of Rouen believe hm. William Bonne-Ame is no man's fool—my father put him where he is today." Henry paced to stare at the flaming brazier. "It could be that it is just his word against Eleanor's, but I doubt he would come forward with such flimsy evidence."

"Lea does not lie!"

"Nay… nay—'twas not my meaning. What I would say is that he must think he has something else to bear his charges—he has bribed or coerced someone to corroborate what he says." He caught Eleanor's indignant expression and added gently, "Whatever can be said of the Count of Belesme, my lady, it cannot be said that he is a fool. Can you not imagine the reception he received from Holy Church when he turned to them? Aye, I'll warrant William's heart paused at the sight of him."

"But I have told the truth!"

"I believe you." Henry stared into the fire as though looking for some answer to be read there. Finally he straightened. "The thing is now to decide how best to counter him."

Possessing Eleanor's hand and holding it tightly, Roger decided, "We go to London—we have nothing to hide—we were wed in Holy Church."

"It could be a trap to draw you out," Henry mused thoughtfully. "Here he cannot touch you, but there you are out in the open with almost none to support you."

Eleanor's eyes widened at the implication and she clutched Roger's hand. "What then do you advise?" she asked Henry.

"I don't know. I would think some before I decided, if it were I summoned to a strange city to answer a madman's charges."

"Henry, we cannot run again. Besides, if we fail to answer the summons, 'twill appear she is guilty," Roger reasoned, "and she will be excommunicated. We have to go."

"Why?" the prince countered. "Why cannot you steal the march on Robert and go directly to Rome and apply for a hearing with His Holiness? Aye—I would send an envoy of my own with you—or I could persuade Curthose to do so in your behalf."

" 'Twas Curthose's approval of a marriage with Belesme that brought all this about," Roger reminded him.

"My brother weaves like a plant in the wind—he bends the way the wind blows. Let me but talk to him and I can persuade him—especially if Belesme is over here."

"Nay—in Rome, I am even farther away from any help. My lands lie in Normandy and my father's are here. I say we go to London and prove Robert a liar in the court of his choosing." Roger rose and pulled Eleanor up to hold her against him. "Henry, I know you speak from love of us, but I would have this settled quickly. Don't you see—these charges make it appear that Lea is an adulteress. Aye—and she could carry my child anytime now. I will not have my children called bastard by anyone."

"Go to the Holy Father."

Roger threw his hands up in disgust. "Jesu! Think what you advise, my lord—the courts at Rome drag on for years over small appointments. What happens to Lea during that time? I can tell you—some will call her my leman rather than my wife, and I could not bear that."

"Eleanor…" Henry turned his attention to her. " 'Tis you this most concerns. What do you want to do?"

She leaned into Roger and rubbed her cheek against the soft velvet of his tunic. "I am not afraid to face Belesme with my husband at my side, and I would rather see him in a room surrounded by people than across a battlefield from Roger." She could listen to his heart beat beneath the warm fabric. "Aye, I have told the truth here and I can tell it in London."

"So be it then. I will ride to my brother Rufus and try to persuade him to return to London before the hearing convenes. Mayhap his presence will restrain Count Robert a little."

"But will it help Lea?" Roger countered. "He is not known for his cordial relations with the Church."

"They are made up for now."

"But why should he do anything for me?" Eleanor ventured. "From what I have heard—"

"You have heard he is only interested in men," Henry cut her off abruptly, "and 'tis true. But I can tell you this—once he is persuaded to take a stand, he is not like my brother Curthose. Aye, when Rufus stands, he stands. Besides, he will at least want to see the woman my father once thought to make him take for England's queen."

"Nay!"

"Aye—but I argued you should come to me instead. Much good it did me when your mother died," he finished with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"When do we have to go to London, Roger?" Eleanor asked quietly to change the subject.

"November 5—we'll have to leave after All Hallows."

"Two weeks then."

"Aye."

"Oh, Roger, I had so many plans—we would celebrate Christmas feast here with your mother and father. I have ordered the robes for everyone, and the women are making new hangings for your parents' chamber…" Her voice trailed off in disappointment. "Sweet Mary, but I was happy here."

"Shhhh, Lea…" Roger held her close and spoke softly. "Lea, we have a lifetime of Christmases ahead of us. Besides, this thing surely cannot drag out that long. 'Tis probable that we'll be here anyway."

"But I won't have done it. I wanted to show everyone that I could manage it, that I could plan and make it happen…"

"Is this the girl who long ago at Nantes told me she had not the least ability in housekeeping?" Henry laughed. "God's teeth, Eleanor, but you put such importance to such small things."

She pulled away from Roger to face Henry indignantly. "And is it wrong to want to have the accomplishments of other women? You forget I have spent much of my life locked away behind high walls. Nay, this is the first time I have been free and I would have my husband proud of me!"

"Lea… Lea…" Roger pulled her back and attempted to soothe her ruffled feelings. "You cannot know how proud I am of you."

"Even you cannot understand that I would be valued for more than the way I look to people," she wailed against him.

"Listen, this is Roger—I know all your faults, Lea, and I love you still." He brushed back a stray strand of dark hair from her face. "I love the way you look, the way you talk—your loyalty, your strength, your courage, and your faith in me—aye, I love everything about you."

"And I did not mean that you were not an accomplished housewife, Eleanor," Henry spoke behind her. "I but teased that you worried over small things."

She managed a sheepish smile. "The fault was mine, my lord. Here you both were trying to help me in… in this thing with Belesme—and all I could do was strike at you because I will not have the Christmas I had planned."

" 'Tis all right," Roger reassured. "We'll have this settled and be back here long before then. You'll be here to welcome my mother and father."

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The eyes of the curious seemed to follow her everywhere she went. Only the fact that her accuser was the hated Count of Belesme kept her from being mobbed by those who would call her a public harlot. As it was, many felt that she could be excused on the grounds that Count Robert was hardly the husband for any woman, and certainly not for a convent-bred girl. William Rufus himself had returned to London to lend his kingly presence to the Church tribunal called to decide which man was entitled to Eleanor of Nantes. It had taken all of Henry's persuasive powers to convince Rufus he had any interest in the matter at all, but once that was accomplished, the king now stood squarely behind Harlowe's heir.

Stating flatly that she had nothing to hide and that the truth would exonerate her, Eleanor refused to attend the opening of the tribunal in the colorless gray garb suggested by the prince. She chose instead to appear clad as a lady of rank and fortune, wearing a purple samite gown and golden girdle beneath a fine cloak of russet velvet lined with sable. As she walked into the chamber at Westminster, she was flanked by Roger, Rannulf of Chester, and several of Harlowe's vassals. She held her chin high and met the gaze of those who would look on her squarely. A murmur of appreciation swept through the predominantly male crowd who sat assembled to watch these curious proceedings.

An expectant hush fell over the room as she took her seat beside the man she'd dared to marry in defiance of her father and her duke. A side door opened to admit the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of Durham, and the papal legate to England. Behind them trailed nearly a dozen scribes in black robes brought to record the testimony and to examine the evidence as it was presented. Eleanor settled in her seat and took a deep breath to maintain her calm. Another door opened and King William Rufus strode in, followed by Robert of Belesme and Prince Henry. The sight of Belesme with Rufus nearly unnerved her until her eyes met Henry's and he nodded and smiled slightly.

Belesme was magnificently dressed in cloth of gold and green velvet. He made his way to a chair at the opposite side of the room and sat down to stare at her. His face was cold and impassive.

She stared back coolly and resisted the urge to cling to Roger. They were, after all, in Westminster and surrounded by a roomful of people. Besides, she would not let Robert of Belesme know she still feared him, now perhaps more than ever. Before, she had not realized the depth of her love for Roger or of his for her—now what she had was too precious to lose. If the Church ruled against her… She dared not let herself even think on it. She knew she was right and she was Roger's wife. She could not conceive of wedding with Belesme now—or ever.

It was as if Robert knew he was in her thoughts. The green eyes met and locked with hers across the small open space, and she could see the triumph in them. An involuntary shiver coursed down her back when at last he smiled. Her fingers crept to entwine with Roger's and she was rewarded with a squeeze of reassurance.

As presiding judge, the Archbishop of Canterbury rose and all followed suit. He raised his arms and called on God in prayer to grant the wisdom necessary to decide this problem that faced them, to give them an open heart and mind, and to render them just. And then he called on God's blessing for all assembled there. Eleanor could sense that Belesme's eyes never left her during the prayer.

As they were taking their seats again, she was surprised to see Fontainebleau's abbess and two of the nuns come in silently and slip into seats near the side door. Idly she wondered what business they could have here in London.

The churchmen whispered between themselves briefly and then the Bishop of Durham nodded to one of the scribes who rose and addressed the crowd. His voice was stern with self-importance.

"We are met here to examine the case of the Lady Eleanor, daughter to Count Gilbert of Nantes," he intoned, "for the purpose of determining if she is the lawful wife of Roger de Brione, late called Roger FitzGilbert, or if she is the betrothed wife of Robert Talvas, Count of Belesme." He took a breath and turned to Belesme, saying, "As charging party, my lord, your testimony will be heard first. You will rise and come forward."

Robert stood and nodded before moving to a chair in front of the dais where the churchmen sat. He waited for the signal to sit.

"State your name, my lord."

Belesme's eyebrow rose a fraction, but he stared again at Eleanor while speaking clearly and precisely. "Robert Talvas, Count of Belesme, Lord of Mantes, Vyonne, and Eisle."

The clerk produced a small golden casket. "My lord of Belesme, herein lies a relic of St. Catherine. Do you swear upon this that you tell this tribunal the truth as you know it?"

Robert's green eyes flickered over the room, stopping briefly to watch Eleanor, and then he placed his hand on the metal box. "Aye, I so swear."

"So help you God at the peril of your immortal soul?" the clerk persisted.

"So help me God."

The clerk removed the box and placed it on a table near the papal legate before taking his seat. Belesme moved his chair closer to the dais and sat also.

"My lord"—the archbishop leaned forward to address Robert—"these are serious charges you would make against this woman. To find her not this man's wife is to find her guilty of adultery. Is that what you would have of this hearing?"

"Nay, I would have her still. I do not believe that she understood she was mine when she pledged to him."

A ripple of whispers spread through those in the room before the archbishop raised his hand for silence. "Then, Count Robert, we must ask you to tell us why you believe this woman should be given to you."

Eleanor listened in shocked silence as Robert settled back and told his story skillfully, weaving truth with lies until the whole seemed fact. He was clever enough to tell of his rough treatment of her, of his forcing her to disrobe, of his demanding her pledge, and then he stunned everyone by asserting she'd lain with him at Fontainebleau and had given him her pledge to marry at Rouen.

"It's a lie! He lies!" Roger jumped to his feet and took several steps forward before Harlowe's vassals managed to restrain him. Even then, he called out to Belesme, "You have condemned your soul to hell with your perjury, Robert! You know she came to me virgin!"

Instead of responding to Roger, Belesme turned to the archbishop and repeated levelly, "I had her and she was promised to me."

"By her own words she was pledged to you?" The churchman leaned forward.

"Aye—I swear it."

"Lies—all of it," Roger countered.

"Silence!" The papal legate raised his hand for order and then inclined his head to confer in whispers with the archbishop and the bishop. Nodding, he turned back to address Belesme. "My lord, would you repeat for us the words she used to exchange vows with you?"

"Aye—she said, 'I, Eleanor, daughter to Gilbert of Nantes, take thee, Robert of Belesme, for my betrothed husband. I so swear.'"

"Those were her exact words?"

"Aye."

It was Eleanor's turn to come to her feet. "Nay! I'll not listen to his lies in silence, excellencies! Those were his words—not mine—and I refused to repeat them for him! He beat me and I would not say them!" She clasped Roger's hand and held it up. "This is my husband—my only husband—as God is my witness!"

"Lady Eleanor…" The Archbishop of Canterbury's voice was not unkind as he addressed her. "We will hear you out when we have finished listening to Count Robert. Please be seated and refrain from screaming here—there is no need for such outbursts."

"No
need
? Excellency, my lord of Belesme has come here and all but said she is a harlot, and you would have her sit calmly and listen." Roger's voice rose angrily. "Nay, she will not!"

"Lord Roger," the Bishop of Durham addressed him, "she will answer his charges in due time. Until then, you will both be pleased to sit whilst Count Robert tells his grievance. We will question him then and ask him to provide corroboration of his testimony. When that is done, the Lady Eleanor will have her opportunity to defend herself and call whomsoever she will for witness." He cast a withering look at Eleanor as she made to speak again. "Aye, and if need be, we will have both of you wait outside before we will listen to any more such disruptions."

"Excellency." William Rufus rose and faced the three churchmen, his ruddy face bland and almost amiable. "While this is clearly a matter for Holy Church to decide, two of the parties involved are our vassals and, as such, their affairs are a concern to us. The lady…"He paused to look at the white-faced Eleanor. "The lady can reasonably be expected to be unhappy with these proceedings, as the very convening of this tribunal casts doubt on her honor. It should be clearly stated from the beginning that none here thinks her a willing adulteress." His gaze moved to Robert of Belesme. "Is that not so, Count Robert?"

"Aye, your grace. I believe she did not understand the binding nature of her pledge to me. I would still take her to wive with Holy Church's blessing." Robert smiled at what he perceived to be the king's support for his position.

"Exactly." Rufus turned to face Roger. "And you, my lord—you would not prejudice this tribunal with emotion when you have the opportunity to tell the truth later. You serve your lady ill by speaking out before your time." Pleased to have played the peacemaker, Rufus sat back down and announced, "You will proceed."

Reluctantly Eleanor and Roger took their seats and listened in silence as Robert told in detail of his lying with her. Roger clasped her hand in her lap and heard Belesme describe her resistance and his ravishment of her. Even the usually impassive clerks seemed shocked by the sordidness of the tale.

"You forced her?" the papal legate interrupted. "You would have Holy Church bless a union begun in ravishment?"

"She gave me her pledge! She was mine to do with as I would!"

They conferred on the dais and moved on. "And what evidence can you offer that she expected to wed with you?" Durham asked finally.

"Her father removed her from Fontainebleau and proceeded to bring her and her bridethings to Rouen for the marriage. I was called on to secure her release when Fuld Nevers took her hostage because she was my betrothed."

"Then why do you think she fled Rouen in Lord Roger's company if she expected to wed with you?"

"She was afraid of me, excellency, because I was overeager at Fontainebleau." Belesme leaned forward in his chair to make his point. "She left Rouen in the company of a man she believed to be her brother because he offered her safety here. I think she realized that she could not stay with him when it was discovered that he was not of her blood, and that was why she wed with him. Yet that does not change the fact that she belongs to me."

"Jesu, but he can lie like the truth," Eleanor whispered. "Roger, I am afraid they will believe him."

"Nay—you've not had your say yet. He has offered no proof."

As if he heard them, Robert pointed to where Mother Mathilde sat. Everyone followed his direction as he announced, "She can tell you that I had Eleanor of Nantes at Fontainebleau."

"Nay, he lies!" Eleanor was on her feet again. "Excellencies, he has twisted his own actions to show something that never happened. I never—"

"Silence! Lord Roger, pray remove the lady from the room until it is her time to answer questions."

"I will not!" She turned to where Rufus and Henry and some courtiers sat. "Your Grace—"

Rufus seemed taken aback by this direct appeal to him. "Nay, gentle lady—go with your husband until you are called."

"My lord Henry—"

"Go on—I will tell you all that is said here," Henry answered.

Rannulf of Chester was behind her and he whispered low for her and Roger, "Aye, Lady Eleanor, your friends will not let your honor be sullied."

"Rannulf," Roger warned, "the quarrel is not yours—do not do anything foolish." He put his arm protectively around Eleanor's shoulders. "Come on, Lea. His lies just upset you anyway. We will show them the truth when it is our turn."

Eleanor paced the small room provided for them in the Tower of London by the king. Behind her, Roger aimlessly cast dice and scooped them up to throw again. It seemed like they waited interminably for the summons to Westminster, and the wait wore on her nerves.

"I wish you would not do that!"

"All right." He stooped to retrieve the dice and placed them on a low table. He eyed her soberly. "Lea, you must calm yourself—it serves no purpose for you to pace like this."

"Roger, I cannot! Jesu! Can none see through his lies?"

"We have not had our day yet," he reminded her gently.

"Can you not see?" she cried out passionately. "By the time our turn comes, I shall be going in there after he is already believed! I know I did not give my promise to him, and I know I did not lie with him, but do you think they will listen? Nay—they will not! 'Twill be my words against his—and whom do you think they will believe?" Her voice flattened out in bitterness. "I am a mere woman, Roger."

He came up behind her and caught her stiff body against his, wrapping his arms about her to still her restlessness. "Hush—'tis not over yet, Lea. I can see now that we should not have come—that we should have listened to Henry—but I cannot believe any can look on you and think you capable of giving a vow and breaking it."

"But you love me!"

"Aye, more than life, Lea."

She turned in his arms and allowed him to cradle her head against his shoulder. "If only we knew what is happening."

"Henry stands our friend, Lea—he'll come and tell us what goes on."

"Roger"—she clutched the velvet of his tunic and raised her head to look up at his face—"I am afraid."

"Aye, but we can only trust God—and Henry."

"I thought the king was to be on our side, but I can see he is not."

"He is. Lea, what can he do now?"

"He sits with Belesme!"

"Nay, Robert sits with him in hopes of winning his support." Roger stroked her shining braids and sought words of encouragement. "Once you are heard, love, I cannot imagine them ruling against us. We'll be back at Harlowe ere Christmas and all will be as you've planned. And this spring, we'll go to our own lands in the Condes."