Lady of Fire (37 page)

"Aye, and eager to see you, my lady."

"Sweet Mary, but it will be wonderful to be with her again." Eleanor could barely contain her excitement at the squire's news. "And Roger will be most pleased to see you."

"And I him." Aubery grinned as he fingered Henry's badge. "Aye, there's little excitement in serving a prince with no lands. He left us sitting on our thumbs at Rouen whilst he came over here."

"You are his man now?"

"Nay—'twas but to protect us from Curthose's and Belesme's wrath—we took no oaths to him. As soon as may be, I would tear this off and wear Lord Roger's colors—whatever they may be."

"You have heard the whole, have you not? My lord is no bastard, but Harlowe's true heir."

"Aye." The squire shifted his feet uncomfortably and avoided her eyes as he dared to ask, "How goes the inquiry?"

"Who can tell? Count Robert lies with his hand on St. Catherine's relic, swearing against eternal damnation, and it sounds like the truth. I face them and tell them what really happened and I cannot tell if they believe me or not." She squinted into the lowering sun and shook her head. "I know not what to think, Aubery," she told him bitterly.

"They will decide for you. Aye—who could give a lady to Count Robert?"

"Aubery!" The younger man barely had time to turn around before being enveloped in Roger's embrace. "Jesu, but you grow prettier by the day, I'll warrant."

"Nay—leave me be." Aubery flushed crimson and gave Eleanor a sheepish grin as he extricated himself from Roger's arms. "I would wed as soon as may be."

"You? And break half the hearts in Christendom?" Eleanor teased.

"Your sister Adelicia has been much at Curthose's court, my lady, and the duke favors the match if my father can come to terms with Gilbert."

"You and Lissy?" Eleanor's face broke into a smile as she clasped the squire's hand. "Aye—I favor it too."

"Well, naught's settled for certain," he cautioned, "but I have hopes."

"My father is here—he speaks for Belesme against us."

"So I have heard, but I don't think that will weigh on my dealings with him." Aubery added wryly, "Gilbert will only see that I am willing to take her with little dowry."

"Eleanor, have you no kiss of welcome for me?" Glynis' musical voice sounded behind them and Eleanor turned into her outstretched arms. Beneath the bemused stares of Earl Richard and the king, the two women were reunited after more than seven years. Eleanor stepped back self-consciously and realized that now she ought to kneel before the new countess. Glynis caught her and shook her head above the dark braids. "Nay, sweet child—I gave you suck as a babe—do not be kneeling to me." Turning to William Rufus, Glynis beamed mistily. "Has my son not given me a lovely daughter, Sire?"

"Aye, she is that," he acknowledged. "Henry would have it none can compare in Christendom." Little given to the interests of women, he turned his attention to her husband. "I see you have found your son."

"Aye, and I cannot thank you enough, Sire, for the kindness you have shown him in my absence. You do me and my lady much honor by your lodging him here rather than in the city."

"Henry would have me spare the Lady Eleanor the pain of traveling amid the crowds. Londoners are a nasty lot, ready to believe the worst of anyone." Clearly, Rufus was bored with the subject as his attention turned to something dearer to his heart. "I have heard you brought new hawks from my brother Curthose's mews."

"Aye." The earl nodded. "A wedding gift from your brother when Glynis and I renewed our vows."

"If it does not rain on the morrow, I would see them fly. My brother may be a weak fool, but he keeps good birds. Who knows—I might be tempted to buy one of you."

" 'Tis still light enough to see into the cages, Sire," Richard observed. "Would Your Grace care for a look at them?"

Clearly he had found favor with the king. Rufus glanced at the lowering sky and nodded. "Aye, I think there's time—they'll not dare serve supper without us. Tell me, does FitzWarren still keep my brother's mews?"

"Men!" Glynis tried to sound disgusted, but her voice betrayed her amusement. "Well, lovey, shall we find a warmer place for a coze?"

"You are as I remember you," Eleanor murmured softly. "Ah, how I have missed you these long years since Nantes."

"And you are even lovelier than I remember you, child. Your beauty comes from the heart as well as the skin, I think. As for me, there's more gray in these braids than I care to notice, but Richard does not seem to mind."

"You are happy then?"

"Aye—at last."

"Oh, Glynis, I am so glad for you. I pray we may all yet live together in peace."

"Well, 'tis bound to be so, for Richard and I have spent many hours on our knees praying for you, little one. Indeed, you are as dear as a blood daughter to both of us." Glynis linked her arm through Eleanor's and began walking back to the royal apartments where they had been granted lodging. "God in his goodness could not let you go to a man like Robert of Belesme."

"Nay, he could not."

"Well, let us not think on it, my dear. We have enough to tell each other of seven years apart—so much has changed for both of us, I think."

"Aye. I thought of you often," Eleanor admitted freely, "and wondered how it was at Abbeville."

"As well as might be for a sinner, I suppose. My days were spent in penance for my living with Gilbert."

"How awful!"

"Nay, 'twas better than living with him. 'Tis hard to endure a man whose touch you despise, Eleanor. But I often thought of you also at Fontainebleau."

"They were forever at me to take my vows, but I had promised Prince Henry and Roger that I would not. And Roger wrote often, so I had but to read his letters when I could not stand it. By the end, I think Mother Mathilde had to own I would be a poor nun. Jesu, but you should have seen her when Belesme came."

"Had he come to Abbeville, the nuns would have been prostrate with fear. They told such tales of him, anyway. Richard caused quite enough of a stir when he came and announced that I had never been other than his wife."

November 21, 1092, was a day that would live forever in the memory of those attending Westminster to hear the findings of the ecclesiastical court. Hastily summoned to one of the abbey's side chambers, Roger and Eleanor were met by an irate Prince Henry and a disgusted king. One look at either of them confirmed Eleanor's worst fears—they were not going to be pleased with the decision. She clasped her hands tightly to still them and waited with thudding heart.

"We have not much time." Henry spoke quickly while shutting the door behind them. "Durham has confided to Rufus that they have been unable to reach a decision."

Hope flared briefly in Eleanor's breast and then died. Henry's expression was ominous and the king did not meet her eyes. "But—"

"At least they did not rule for Robert." Roger let out his breath slowly and waited.

"It seems that they do not feel able to rule on something where the testimony was so different and both parties were under oath—"

"But he lied!" Eleanor pointed out.

"Aye, and we know he lied, but they feel unable to deal with the situation here," Henry continued.

"And so they send it to Rome," Roger sighed. "Aye, I should have expected this."

"There's more, isn't there?" Eleanor demanded with sinking heart.

He nodded. "They have considered Belesme's complaint that you continue to live with Roger when the issue of your marriage is unsettled. They…"He met the fear in her eyes and sighed heavily. "They will send you to Fontainebleau to await Rome's decision on to whom you belong."

"Nay!" Her hands crept to her face in horror and disbelief. "But I have done nothing to deserve this!" She clutched at Roger's arm for support. "This is unjust! This is my husband!"

Roger drew her protectively into his arms and held her close. "Nay, love, you'll not go," he soothed. "My Lord Henry, we'll not face them to hear this. I'll take her back to Harlowe and let anyone dare to come for her!"

Rufus shook his head. "The Church will call on me to enforce its will."

"Then I'll take her out of England! Aye—we'll go to Byzantium."

"Roger, consider!" Henry reasoned.

"Consider nothing! They would take her away again! Nay, I'll not let them. She is my wife and I am sworn to protect her!"

"Listen to me—both of you!" Henry implored. "We have little time, but all is not at an end. My man is already in Rome by now and argues your cause with Victor III! Do not ruin your chances by rash action or by defiance. Rufus can tell you that it does not work."

"Jesu!"

"What I would ask is that you appear to agree to the Church's ruling and that Eleanor go back to Fontainebleau until we can persuade His Holiness as to the validity of your marriage. She is probably safer there than anywhere else, and I am certain enough of the outcome that I'd wager all I had on it." Henry's brown eyes were intent on hers. "You understand me—the pope
will
rule in your favor."

"Nay, I—"

"Eleanor, if you would ever live in peace with your husband and bear legitimate children, this is something you will have to do."

"Sire—" She reached out toward Rufus.

"You cannot ask her to go back there!" Roger shook his head as though he could not believe they were serious. "I don't understand this! They had to know Robert lied."

"Cowards all"—Rufus nodded contemptuously—"except for Anselm, and I've reason to believe he sympathizes with you. If anything can be said for our good Archbishop of Canterbury, 'tis that he is uncorruptible. I expect him to write to the Holy Father also, for I can tell he does not trust Belesme."

"But we could wait years for His Holiness to decide," Eleanor protested. "And I have already spent seven years of my life in that place."

Already they could hear the clerks calling order in the other room. Henry muttered an oath and shook his head. "Do what you will, and I will stand with you, but I advise accepting this ruling so that you can win the next."

" 'Tis not your wife they would send away," Roger reminded him grimly.

"Nay, but I value her also and I would not see her called harlot the rest of her life when I knew it was not so. I would want her sons and daughters to be born in wedlock."

"As yours have been?"

"Nay, but I have not loved their mothers, so 'tis different."

Rufus opened the door a crack and peered out. "They wait for you. Listen to what my brother advises and know we will stand by you in Rome."

"God's teeth! You make it sound as though we have no choice!"

"Roger…" Henry's voice was tired. "You can fight it, but defiance sits ill with the Church. And this time, there will be no question of her taking the veil. She can take a maid with her and live in comfort whilst she waits. Besides, I think we can get Victor to reach a decision before summer."

"Does my father know of this?"

"Nay."

"I would speak to him before I agree to anything." Roger's palm smoothed her hair. "I would consult him in this, for I do not believe he would want Lea to go back there."

Henry shook his head. "Earl Richard is no man's fool, Roger. He will tell you exactly what I have said."

"What difference does it make anyway, Roger?" Eleanor asked, her voice toneless and flat in defeat. "We both can see that Prince Henry has the right of the matter. We cannot fight Holy Church."

"Lea, we can flee—do not look like that, love!"

"Nay." She shook her head sadly. "Nay, you cannot shame your mother and your father, Roger. Were it just Belesme, we could fight it and they would stand with us, but this is the Church also."

A knock sounded on the door and Henry grasped Eleanor's hand quickly, squeezing reassurance. " 'Twill be all right in the end, I swear," he promised.

A heavy sigh escaped her. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded. "So be it then."

"Good. You and Roger go on—Rufus and I will come in later by another door. The less Belesme suspects us in this, the better for you."

Sober-faced, Eleanor and Roger made their way into the hearing chamber and took seats by his parents. Glynis leaned across her husband and whispered, "What is it? You both look sick unto death."

"You'll hear soon enough," Roger hissed back grimly.

"Sire, Lord Roger, Lady Eleanor, and peers of the realm…" Anselm of Bec, Archbishop of Canterbury, stood to address them. "We have been unable after much deliberation to arrive at the truth of this matter." He halted and faced the king. "Therefore, we are agreed that a higher authority than ours is required for disposition of this case. The Lady Eleanor will be returned to Fontainebleau from whence she came to await the decision of His Holiness, Victor III."

Richard de Brione sprang to his feet in an instant to protest the injustice. "Your excellency," he addressed the archbishop, "you do my family a wrong if you do this. Lady Eleanor came a virgin to my son's marriage bed, and I will attest to that. He is her lawful husband. Whatever lies and false witness Robert of Belesme has borne here should not be used to separate this gentle lady from my son." His voice rich with eloquence, he stretched his hand to touch Eleanor's shoulder lightly. "Aye," he continued, "they have borne much suffering and danger for the love of each other. They have been separated long years and have survived to wed. Do not do this to them."

Managing a tremulous smile at her father-in-law, Eleanor rose also and faced the dais. "As God is my witness, I swear that this man at my side is my true husband, that I have never by word or deed contracted myself to Count Robert, and I know in my heart that the Holy Father will affirm that truth." A lump formed in her throat, making speech difficult, but she swallowed and faced them squarely. "I will await his blessing on my marriage to Roger de Brione at Fontainebleau."

Even Durham was not impervious to her courage. He leaned forward from his chair, his voice cracking with emotion. "Lady Eleanor, it is not our wish to pain you in body or spirit, but in conscience we could not reach the truth. You will be escorted by your father to Fontainebleau, where you will have the privileges accorded a lady of your rank."