Rivals for the Crown (31 page)

Isabel was fascinated by all the rules that Rachel was supposed to adhere to, like the thirty-nine things that Jews must not do on the Sabbath. No sowing, plowing, or reaping or binding sheaves, all of which was easy for Rachel's family to avoid.

But there were other things on the list that made life at The Oak and The Ash far more difficult: no kneading or baking, sifting, or kindling a fire. How was one to run an inn under such constraints, when the rest of the world rested on Sunday? Which was why, Rachel's parents told her often, Isabel's arrival had been a gift to them, for she could work while they could not. Gilbert helped, of course, for he knew everything about running an inn, even if he was no longer able to do it all himself. They had hired townspeople to work. But Sabbaths were still difficult, and Isabel's efforts helped immeasurably.

By the next evening, the weather had turned cool, and Isabel helped bring in the tables and benches from the terrace. When the third star was visible, Rachel and her family retired to say their

prayers and eat their Sabbath supper. Isabel and Gilbert tended to the last of the patrons.

Close to midnight, just as it was beginning to get dark this summer evening—dim, actually, for the light never seemed to go completely away this far north—they were finishing their tasks. Gilbert went to the kitchen, and she was wiping down the tables when the door opened, then closed quietly.

"Isabel."

She turned and met Henry's gaze.

She stared at him, unable to speak. She let the cloth fall from her hand and bent to retrieve it, trying to think of what to say. When she straightened, he stood before her, his expression so severe that she caught her breath.

"I knew it was you," he said, his voice low and harsh, full of suppressed fury. "The serving girl tried to laugh it off, but I knew I'd not seen a ghost."

He caught her wrist and held it between them, his eyes flashing. "What happened? And it had better be good, for I do not understand why you let me think, all this time, that you were dead. I mourned you, Isabel! I lit candles in churches all over England in your name. I paid for prayers for your salvation. I was sick at the thought that you had thrown yourself from a bridge into an icy river and had not come to me for help. Whatever it was, I would have helped you. And all this time, you were here. Alive. Well.

And even when I arrived, even when you saw me on the terrace, you did not send word to me. No, you had them lie to me, and you hid from me. From me! What have I ever done but be kind to you? What have I ever done to deserve such treatment from you? Tell me!"

"I will,
Henry
. I will. Please let me go." Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She rubbed her wrist when he released it. "I never meant to cause you pain! You were gone from London. I could not come to you. You were riding north with the king."

"No. First you refused to travel."

"I never did! Alis invented that. I was told to stay behind, and then that I'd been dismissed. I wanted to go, Henry. You must believe me!"

"Why?"

"Because I am telling the truth! Why are you so angry with me?"

"Because I care for you, Isabel! Because I was sick with worry."

"Miss Isabel?" Gilbert stood in the doorway. "Do you need help?"

"No." She took a breath. "No, we are fine, Gilbert, thank you."

Gilbert looked from her to Henry. "Are you sure? Sir, she—"

Henry stepped away from her. "I will do her no harm. You have my word."

"We're fine, Gilbert," she said. "I will call you if I need you."

"I will be near," Gilbert said and left them alone.

Henry paced the room. Isabel watched him, rubbing her wrist and brushing tears away. At last, with a sigh, he sat at one of the tables and looked at her.

"Tell me," he said. "All of it."

And she did.

When she was finished, he nodded. "I had no idea. Why did you not seek my help?"

"I didn't feel I could trust anyone, Henry. My own mother had lied to me, and Alis, and Lady Dickleburough. I no longer knew what—or who—to believe. Even my grandmother had kept things from me."

"You trusted MacGannon. He brought you here."

"He and his cousin were traveling north at the same time."

"On the same ship. I know. I was told that the two of them were accompanied by a young woman."

"Who told you that?"

"The man I hired to watch Rory MacGannon while I rode north with the king. He sailed with you."

She thought of the voyage, of the silent man who had traveled alone. Of what she might have said in front of him. She had spent most of the trip hanging over a bucket, but still...

"Then you knew I was here."

"No. I thought you were dead. I knew MacGannon and his cousin had a woman with him, but that did not surprise me. He's the sort to have more than one woman."

"Like you. Lady Dickleburough said you fathered the child of the girl that I replaced at court. Is it true?"

"No."

"Did you?..."

"Yes, I slept with her. But I was neither the only one, nor the last. The child is not mine. Why would you believe Lady Dickleburough over me?"

She looked down at the table, trying to compose her thoughts, then back up at him. "But it could be yours."

"No. The timing is not correct. And what if it were, Isabel?"

"Then you would have abandoned her and the child."

"No. If the child had been mine, I would have married her and we would have been legally tied, but desperately unhappy. She was a whimpering, clinging sort."

"But you dallied with her."

"Dallied. I bedded her. Like every other knight and half the royal household. We used to joke that she was determined to have us all. The child is not mine, Isabel. Whatever you've heard is wrong."

"Alis has a child."

He leaned back as though she'd struck him.

"A girl. Her name is Miriam. Alis left her behind in Gascony and has not seen her since the child was two years old. I believe she is in a convent now."

Henry nodded, as though he was piecing information together in his mind. "And who told you this? Lady Dickleburough?"

Isabel nodded. "But I believe her."

"Because it is about Alis, who you despise."

"And who despises me."

"If she does, she keeps it well veiled from me. She has only the most kind things to say about you."

"Ask her again how I refused to travel with the king."

"Why? She thinks you're dead. Is it not better that she continues to think so? Would you have me draw attention to you now? Here? Langton does not believe that you are dead. He has questioned your mother. And your grandmother."

She put a hand to her throat.

"Both are fine. I've not talked to your mother, but I visited your grandmother and she is well. She did not trust me enough to tell me anything, but she played her part well, as the aged woman in mourning."

"How is she?"

"As I say, she is well. She misses you, that much seemed genuine. But so much of this did not ring true, and now I understand why."

"Langton.

"Did you think to evade the snake? You, pitted against one of the country's most powerful men? If you had trusted me earlier, I might have been able to stop him, but I cannot now. Apparently you still do not trust me. When I came here, Isabel, when you saw me, why did you not have them tell me you were here?"

"I thought of it. I almost did. But then I saw Alis."

"Ah. Still jealous?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me. You do not do it well. You should not be jealous. Alis is lovely, yes, and willing. And I am her current
favourite
. It is nothing more than that."

"A willing
favourite
."

"Yes. For now." His eyes grew darker. "Yes. I'm not a monk, Isabel, and I make no excuses for what I do. I will never lie to you. I have never made promises to you, and I break none now. She pleases me for what she is. When I return to Berwick in June, we will talk, you and I."

"About what, Henry? What do we have to say to each other now?"

He watched her for a moment. "Do not pretend there has not been something between us from the first. In June when the King returns we will know what will happen in Scotland and I will be in a better position to know my own future."

"Why?"

"If the king decides to take Scotland, his territory will increase. I am one of his household knights and can be assigned to any place where he has a household. London. Gascony. Wales. He is struggling with France and there may be war there. Or not. It seems to change with the wind, and I am not privy to what is planned. If there is a war, anywhere, then there are means by which I can receive advancement, a title, perhaps, which would bring lands and increased wealth. Now I have only a small holding in Essex, but I would like to increase that. My future is as undecided as Scotland's. So when the decision has been made, I will know if I will live in London or in Stirling. I will return in June and we will talk then."

"I could be married by June."

"But you won't be." He rose and looked down at her. "Don't be any more of a fool than you have been, Isabel. I could have protected you from Langton. With one well-placed word the story would have gotten everywhere."

"I could have told Lady Dickleburough myself," she said, standing.

"She is not the only purveyor of news. Keep yourself well, Isabel. I will see you next summer."

"And I am to wait here, alone, while you are entertained by Alis?"

"MacGannon has abandoned you, then? I would not have guessed that. It seems the Oak King has died after all. Until June, Isabel."

He put a hand on her arm and pulled her into his embrace before she knew what he was about. His kiss was tender, then over.

He strode away looking as if he was well pleased.

Isabel closed the door behind him. "You can come out now," she said.

Gilbert, Rachel, and Jacob sheepishly came around the corner.

"We wanted to be sure he did not harm you," Rachel said.

Isabel leaned her head back against the wood and sighed. "I cannot tell you if he did or not."

It was not quite a month later that she received a letter from her grandmother, who told her how much she was missed, and small bits about those who lived nearby.

And then this:

"I write to tell you two things. Your mother has written to Lonsby, asking how you fared. He wrote back to her that you are not with him. So now she knows. It will not be long before she realizes, as I did, where you have gone. Continue well, sweet, and give my best to those who shelter you."

Life went on in Berwick. The inn continued to be busy and the days flew by. Isabel and Gilbert joined Rachel's family in the Rosh Hashanah meal, their new year celebration, and learned about Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Isabel was intrigued by the tradition of atoning for sins or wrongs done to another in the past year. But she and Gilbert still went to Mass on Michaelmas, at the end of September. And the weeks passed.

FOURTEEN

DECEMBER 1291 AYRSHIRE, SCOTLAND

Is he dead?"

Nell kept her voice to a whisper as she held the candle higher. Liam bent over one of their men, who had been carried, bleeding and unconscious, to their barn by the others. His breath had been loud, rasping. And then he'd stopped breathing. Nell looked at Liam who appeared shocked.

"Aye," Liam said. He sighed and closed the boy's eyes, pulling the blanket over the boy's head.

Nell looked at the others, the four young men who stood before them. One was the dead boy's brother, the others his cousins. All were Crawfords who had lived on Liam's family's lands for as long as anyone could remember.

"He was a child!" she whispered.

"He was seventeen, madam," the boy's brother said, his voice on the edge of tears. "He was verra proud of it. His birthday was not three months ago, on Michaelmas."

"God in heaven, I cannot believe this!" Nell cried. "How could the English soldiers simply have murdered him?"

"Well.. .we were burning their barn, mistress. And they found us."

"Ye were burning down their barn?" Nell asked. "Have ye gone mad?"

"Are we to simply let them do all the things they're doing? The soldiers burnt four families out of their homes near Kilmarnock, madam!"

Nell shot Liam a look. "Is this true?"

Liam nodded. "Aye. I've been keeping the news from ye, love, but aye. Four in Kilmarnock. One in Kilmaurs. Two near Elder- she. The soldiers say they're looking for William."

"And no one's stopping it!" the boy cried. "They're killing people all around us and we're doing nothing, just waiting for them to come and burn us out."

"They've been looking for William," Liam said. "We kent that."

"I'd not heard," Nell said. "Why? I thought he was studying to be a priest?"