Rebellious Love (16 page)

T
he flushed, angry faces of the d'Arcy men told the story even before they gathered the rest of the family together in the Main Hall to explain what had happened.

Curran stood beside Verony, his arm around her shoulders, as the Earl Garrett described the king's charges. "He seems quite serious," the older man said at length. He shook his dark head in bewilderment. "John has done some outrageous things in the past. He has never been a reasonable man and has always acted on impulse. But this ..."

"How could this happen?" Lady Emelie murmured, her face white with concern. "There was no warning ... no hint of what was to come. . . ." She looked at her husband. "You have not argued with him recently?"

"No, on the contrary, since the king 'suggested'

we delay any resolution of the nobility's demands until Easter, he has been very cordial. Why not? He thought he had won an important point. But then he suddenly launches this all-out attack against us. Such charges cannot be considered as anything less than a personal declaration of war."

"Perhaps," Mark offered hesitantly, "he was deliberately trying to provoke us." He glanced at his brother sympathetically. "John might have hoped such an announcement, made in your presence, would send you at his throat. If you had made a move toward him ..."

"I would have instantly been cut down," Curran finished flatly. "Don't think I didn't consider it. But I also saw the guards positioned all around him. John chose his moment very well. If I had gone for him, I wouldn't have stood a chance, and all the rest of you would have paid for my attempt."

The Earl Garrett smiled faintly, glad that this second son of his, who had always been rather hotheaded, was gaining in wisdom. "It was still best for us not to linger. I have some experience dealing with John's maliciousness, yet even I found my temper sorely strained."

"And the other lords?" Arianna asked softly. "How did they react?"

"With shock," Curran told her, "but also with clear-cut sympathy for us. John managed to earn even greater enmity today."

"He is not a stupid man," Lady Emelie mused. "Surely he must have foreseen that this would only stiffen resistance to him?"

"You would think so," the Earl Garrett agreed.

"That's what makes the whole thing so incredible. Why should the king choose this time to threaten us? And why make the attack so personal? It makes no sense."

Instinctively the family turned toward Verony, as though hoping she might shed some light on the puzzle. Of them all, she was the only one to hear the news in silence. Now, with attention focused on her, she found it almost impossible to speak.

"I . . ." she began, her throat so dry that she had to pause and try again. "I believe the king thought himself . . . provoked. ..."

The family continued to regard her inquiringly. Taking a deep breath, Verony plunged on. "His anger is not directed at you, but at me. ... He wanted to . . . that is, he tried ..."

"That day you were taken ill at court," Lady Emelie broke in, "John had something to do with it?"

Mutely Verony nodded. Slowly and painfully she reported the events of that afternoon. Before she got very far, her lord was roaring in rage. "He did what?! That contemptible bastard! Guards or not, he dies!" Frenzied anger gave way almost instantly to icy calm. With deadly implacability, Curran stated: "I'll kill him." He turned to stride from the hall.

Instantly his father and brothers hurled themselves after him. Curran resisted fiercely, but the combined force of the Earl Garrett, Mark and the other two boys was enough to overcome even his maddened strength. Gently but determinedly they shoved him onto a bench and held him there.

Kneeling before him, Verony clasped his hands in hers. Tears flowed down her ashen cheeks as she pleaded: "You must not, my lord! I beg of you. The king would like nothing better than to cause your death."

"Listen to her," the earl said. "If you go anywhere near John in this mood he will take delight in having his guards hack you to pieces. You realized that this morning; remember it now!"

"There are better ways, Curran," Mark advised gently. "We will be avenged, but in the proper time and place."

"And in the meantime?" Curran grated, still straining against the hold of his father and brothers. A red mist rose before his eyes. He was blinded by rage more terrible than any he had ever felt. The knowledge that another man had dared to put his hands on his wife, to try first to seduce her and then threaten her into his bed, banished all reason. He knew only that he wanted to drown the insult in blood.

"Just what am I supposed to do while we wait for revenge? Smile at the king and bow and scrape while he lusts after my wife and labels her a whore?" This last ended in a snarl indicating his rage was about to burst all bounds.

Hastily the earl shook his head. "There is no reason for you to attend the court right now. Go to Canterbury, see Stephen and explain what has happened. The archbishop knows the law better than any man. He will find a way to prove your marriage is valid."

"Your father is right," Lady Emelie asserted. "No one in his right mind would believe the king's charges for a moment. But you cannot take the risk, especially not with a child already coming."

Verony's hands tightened on her husband's as she thought of their baby. Since the men's return from court, she had concentrated solely on the need to tell the family of John's lust and her worry over how they would react. Now, for the first time, she realized fully just what the king intended.

All the trials suffered during the years with her brutal father and later in the forest were as nothing compared to the chasm of horror that awaited her should she be separated from Curran. Without him, her life would be meaningless. Not even the child nestled in her womb, the baby John sought to condemn as a bastard, could console her.

A sob rose within her, only to be choked back as she caught sight of the steely glint in Curran's eyes. Trained on her, his gaze seemed to drill straight through to her soul. She flinched instinctively, trying to draw away from him, but his grip instantly tightened. Trapped on the floor before him, she was forced to endure his cold scrutiny through long, painful moments.

"Why," he demanded at last, "didn't you tell me of this when it happened?"

His voice was low but still the rest of the family could not help but hear it. Aware that they were inadvertently witnessing what should have been a strictly private confrontation, they looked away.

Verony's head drooped. Waves of red-gold hair tumbled over his bronzed hands. "I was afraid," she admitted softly. "I thought that if I told you while we were still at court, you might do something terrible."

Her wide, tear-filled eyes raised to his silently reminded him that his father and brothers had considered him capable of attacking the king. "Then later, when we returned here, I did not know what to say. The political situation is so delicate ... it could so easily be overturned ... it seemed that silence was best. When I began getting the messages from John, I believed they meant he could do nothing more than threaten. It never occurred to me that he could ..." Her voice broke, the sob that would no longer be restrained breaking from her. Miserably she bent her head again, her tears falling like drops of fire against his skin.

It was all Curran could do not to console her. His hand ached to stroke her silken hair, to brush aside her tears. He longed to assure her that he forgave her failure to speak. But in all truth he did not, at least not yet. Much as he understood her reasoning, he could not lose sight of the fact that she had once again chosen to take matters into her own hands.

Gruffly he said: "You should have spoken. It is not for you to decide what I should or should not be told. I am your husband, and it is my right to know your thoughts."

Verony did not respond. The deep pain so evident in his voice forced her to realize how profoundly hurt he was by her unwillingness to confide in him. Overwhelmed by regret, she did not dare look at him again. If she had, she would have seen the piercing tenderness of his regard as he studied her bent head. But as it was, she knew only that Curran sighed softly before gently disengaging their hands. Without another word, he rose and left the hall.

The next few days passed slowly. With Curran en route to Canterbury, the rest of the d'Arcy men remained inside the compound to fortify it against a possible attack by the king. The wide trench between the outer walls and the surrounding streets was deepened. The drawbridge gears, always scrupulously maintained, were oiled once again. Additional guards were posted in the turrets that commanded a clear view of the city.

A troop of knights was sent to the earl's manor to bring back a large squad of men-at-arms to strengthen the compound force. But it would be some time before they could arrive. In the meanwhile, drills went on constantly as skills already well honed in battle were sharpened even further.

Under Lady Emelie's supervision, livestock was brought in from the nearby fields and housed in sheds set up in the courtyard. Some were butchered, the meat carefully smoked or salted. Unable to go to market herself, because the earl flatly refused to let any of the d'Arcy women set foot beyond the compound, she dispatched trusted servants to purchase large quantities of those few supplies not already well stocked. The grain bins were topped off, kegs of salted fish laid down in the cellars and barrels of cider and ale carefully stored for cooling.

Verony found some distraction from her unhappy thoughts in the work of provisioning the compound. But there were other, far less congenial preparations that forcibly reminded her of the danger lurking just upriver in the royal keep. Lady Emelie spent all of one day going carefully through her medical supplies, taking the opportunity to begin Verony's education in the healing arts. Bandages were rolled and splints cut, even as a prayer was said that they would not have to be used.

On the compound walls and in the courtyard below, pails of water were kept at the ready against an attack with flaming arrows. On the turrets above the drawbridge, vats of tar bubbled night and day, awaiting anyone foolish enough to try to storm the stronghold.

As well as keeping watch for unwelcome guests, the guards also scanned the surrounding area for the telltale signs of tunneling. That tactic was frequently used to undermine even the best protected fortress. A tunnel was dug to the base of one of the towers, where the stress points were greatest. Timbers supported the passage, and dried wood, flammable debris, grease, anything that would burn was packed into the end furthest from the attackers. When the tunnel was fired the timbers burned and the ground gave way, taking with it, if all went according to plan, a corner of the fortress. Through that chink in the defenses, the enemy then tried to enter.

In London, with so much cover provided by other buildings, a tunnel would be a more likely approach than an all-out attack. But if the idea occurred to John, there was no sign of it. Day followed day without the king daring to approach the d'Arcy stronghold.

Not that they were without visitors. A constant stream of the most exalted lords of the land came calling with their retinues. Carefully screened before admittance, they provided ample news and encouragement. To a man, the barons expressed outrage at the king's highhandedness and their support for the d'Arcys. The earl found some grim amusement in the fact that even a few who had not previously been eager to join the nobles' cause now came over to their side. In the privacy of his own chamber, alone with the Lady Emelie, he acknowledged his appreciation for their sovereign's stupidity. But he also continued to worry about where it would all lead.

There were, naturally enough, no further messages from the king. The serving woman who had accepted bribes to deliver them was gone. Verony knew better than to ask after her fate. Several other servants whose loyalty was suspect were also removed from the compound. Every possible effort was made to close even the slightest loophole in security.

But no such effort, however well managed, could succeed entirely. A tiny crack persisted in the defenses. The supplies being brought in from the market became so numerous that merchants had to send their own servants to help with deliveries. Such men were permitted within the walls on the understanding that they would not remain long. The Earl Garrett presumed that news of the measures being taken to strengthen the fortress would reach John through this route. He saw no harm in that, but neither did he guess that the king would dare use the conduit in reverse.

Verony was busy looking over several barrels of salted herring when the man found her. He was small and hunched, wearing the rough clothes of a laborer. His eyes, lingering on her beauty, were red-rimmed and watery. He scratched absentmindedly at the stubble of his beard, embedded with a few stray fleas, before he said: "Begging your pardon, lady. I have something for ye."

Surprised, Verony replaced the cover of the barrel she had just inspected before turning to him. They were alone in the undercroft, the other servants having returned to the courtyard. But she felt no fear. A single cry would bring dozens of men-at-arms down on the man, who undoubtedly would not survive their handling.

"What is it? I am very busy."

"Aye, but this is important." Dirt-encrusted fingers dug in a greasy pouch suspended by a cord around his waist. Gingerly he removed a small, cloth-wrapped parcel and held it out to her. When she hesitated to take it, he said: "Go on! Think I want to get caught with this?"