Shield of Three Lions (68 page)

“Protect!” I shrieked back. “You occupy my land like a conquering army! Kill my wolf! But you outwitted yourself by refusing my body. The priest is now witness to the fact that our marriage is not consummated. That we sleep separately! I’m going to get an annulment as fast as I can!”

And I leaped up the stairs to my chamber, slammed the door shut.

Almost immediately I heard him follow me, and he knocked.

“Go away!”

He opened the door and silently handed me the wolf. “He war only stunned.”

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

His chest was heaving and his blue eyes were wild. Soothly I feared for my life. I held the trembling cub up as a shield.

“Ye have insulted me most grossly and while that reflects on yer character more than mine, for soothly ye mun know better, I’ll not be leavin’ such remarks stand without refutation,” he said as formally as he could in his distress. “Ferst, ye talked of how I gave ye a bit of cocky-leeky along the road.”

“Venison as well, and fish when it could be had,” I conceded quickly.

“Aye, but yer stomach would not have traveled far if Magnus and Roland had caught ye in the inn, or yif I hadn’t taken ye safely through the woods.”

“That’s true. Aye, I should have mentioned that—and that was before you knew I was wealthy.”

“Ye lied to me every way possible in London-town, made me yer slubberdegullian afore the innkeeper, Gladys, everybody, but I still accepted ye as my brother and took ye to France, paid fer yer room fer a year.”

“I paid you back! Have you forgotten?”

“I signed to crusade. Think ye that I yearned to see the wonders of Jerusalem? That I wanted to serve yer English King? No, I wanted
to protect ye! Cared for thee—loved thee, God help me. Didn’t I shaw it every day we were together?”

“You left me at the Rhône River,” I said stubbornly.

He groaned and beat his head. “I wouldn’t have yif I’d knawn ye were female. I thought ye were a pretty winsing boy, and in Marseilles I got wind of the scheme to catch ye fer the king. Fram that time on, I risked my life to protect ye. Have ye forgot the fight on the Far?”

I blanched. Somehow I had. One event wiped out another and all I could seem to remember were those last two days in Acre.

“Even in Jerusalem, I stuck like a Scottish thistle, even whan ye tried hard to pluck me off ye, My Lady. By now, I knew ye war moon-eyed for the king and that I’d lost the battle.
He
understood well enow that I was fighting his schemes. Why do ye think he sent me into the tunnel to sap his wall? Because I war his ‘best engineer’? I war his worst obstacle to takin’ ye.”

“Thank you, Enoch,” I said weakly. My face grew hot.

“As for Northumberland, Richard offered me the title yif I would leave the Crusade. Otherwise he would give me every woodly assignment to have me dead. That is the truth, Alix.” There was a long pause and his voice shook with intensity. “I never received a farthing for yer ‘services,’ whate’er they were, nor any thanks fram ye either. King Richard lied to ye outright. As for Ambroise or Gilbert, they either lied or they didna knaw the truth.”

His eyes blazed with outrage. I started to speak but he cut me short. “The thing that hurts most is that ye knaw every word of this already, aye, and mar besides. Either yer mind be twisted or ye have the meanest, mast ungrateful disposition since Lilith and I doona knaw why I waste my time on ye!”

He slammed out of the room, and a few moments later I heard the muted beats of his horse as he crossed the snow-covered bridge.

ENOCH DIDN’T RETURN till after dark. There was a general sigh of relief when he entered as no one is safe when the sun is down. We had a thick rabbit stew to eat, but I wasn’t very hungry. As soon as we were finished, Enoch held out his hand to me.

“Shall we retire upstairs tonight, wife?”

Gruoth shot a triumphant look at me.

Silently I followed the Scot up the steps, my heart pounding. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him of my scheme for annulment; perhaps he was going to consummate just to thwart me.

He put the candle down in our cold chamber, as he had on our wedding night.

“Alix, I been thinkin’; I, too, want an annulment.”

I felt I’d been pushing a gate which had suddenly opened and I was off balance.

“There’s no hurry …”

“I be leavin’ fer Scotland tomorrow.”

Soothly dazed, I sat on the bed.

“And leave me all alone? How will I get through the winter?”

His shadowed face twisted bitterly. “I knaw how concerned ye are fer yer ane stomach and comfort. I talked to Archie, Gordoc and some others. They’ll cum in the morning.”

A throatball lodged in my neck. “Is Father Gerald willing?”

“Yif ye and I both admit we doona care for each other, there’s no difficulty.”

“I see.” I took a deep breath. “I guess I should thank you. I mean, I realize you’re doing this for me—after you’ve spent a thousand livres of your own money …”

He laughed in that dry husky way that makes me nervous.

“Which gives ye measure of how desperate I am. Frankly, I’d pay mar than a thousand livres to escape this boggy pissmar.”

“It’s better in spring,” I said defensively, not knowing why I suddenly felt so wretched. I’d won, hadn’t I? I should be dancing in circles.

“I wasna referrin’ to the weather, Alix,” he answered in that same odious dry manner. “The fumes and fens lie within. All’s gang awry, but in Scotland I’ll begin to heal.”

More and more uneasy, I thought it only fair to appease the oaf somewhat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I thought not.”

“But I want to—to apologize for believing that you took money for … that you sold me.”

“Slavery be nocht my trade.”

I was beginning to sweat. “And I know ’tis belated, but … thank you for all you did for me. In the inn and … you know, everything.”

“Ye’re welcome. Now, since I’m leavin’ early, I’ll bed wi’ the others downstairs.” He stood silently. “Goodbye, Alix.”

Abruptly, he turned and left. I threw myself across the bed.

What had I done? He hadn’t tried to consummate—didn’t want me any more than I wanted him. We were getting along fine, restoring Wanthwaite, until I stirred the Scot’s latent hatred with my accusations. I was sorely confused at my feelings, at his, and pushed my brain to its limits trying to sort it all out.

My conclusion: I couldn’t abide being here without him. When all the winnowing was done, that remained. He
must
stay. I was weak with pain at the thought of his leaving. The rest could be resolved if he’d remain at Wanthwaite. Somehow we’d get back on our old footing and all would be well. Just how, I’d work out day by day.

I reviewed every moment since he’d returned to Wanthwaite, balanced this item against that like my notched stick and finally logic rewarded me.

Benedicite
, I knew what ailed the oaf!

’Twas so simple to fix! I’d talk to him first thing in the morning.

WHEN I WOKE, Enoch was gone.

“When did he leave?” I shouted furiously at Donald.

“Befar Prime, My Lady.”

“Go after him then! He can’t have gone far and I must talk with him.”

Donald stared curiously. “I’m sorry, Alix, boot have ye looked at the weather? There be a blizzard cumin’ on.”

Indeed snow fell aslant before a heavy wind.

“But he can’t travel in this!” I cried, anguished. “He’ll freeze to death!”

Gruoth signaled to Donald to leave, then put her arms around
me. “Don’t fret, darlin’, Enoch’s nocht a fool and he rides wi’ three other brawny highlanders. Yif it’s truly too dangerous, they’ll turn back.”

“I must get him, Gruoth. If no one else will go, I’ll ride alone.”

She pulled me close and stroked my back. “I take it that the philter worked then.”

“No!” I jerked away. “That wasn’t what was needed at all. I see what’s bothering him—have a plan. Oh, Gruoth, I must talk with Enoch. Everything will be all right once he understands.”

At Sext, I donned a fur hood and cape, high boots and gloves, and went to saddle Thistle. Donald came with me, over Gruoth’s objections. But she needn’t have carried on so, for we didn’t even get as far as the Wanthwaite River. If I hadn’t known every tree and shrub of the park, we would have been lost the instant we crossed the bridge, so fierce was the blizzard, so blinding the snow.

Through the long dreary afternoon we sat huddled by the fire and I sensed the Scots’ unvoiced criticism. What had I done to drive Enoch to give up his life in a storm? As for me, I suffered bereavement and guilt in equal parts. ’Twas worse than when he’d fallen into the Rhône, for I could bear no responsibility for the bridge’s breaking. In this case, I knew well that he was running from me.

Then the door flew open in late afternoon and they were back! Like snow-covered bears they stumbled in carrying Dugan in their arms. His toes, perhaps his feet as well, had been taken by frost and they’d had to turn back to try to save him.

“Ye’ve killed him wi’ yer woodly journey!” Matilda accused Enoch. “I hope now yell stay home.”

“I’m leavin’ in the morning,” he said stoically. “Boot I’ll gae alone.”

Gruoth and I joined Matilda in heating water and ale, my heart galloping in my chest. For long hours we labored over poor Dugan. Enoch thought he might lose three toes, but the others could be saved. Meantime, the wind growled around the castle and my heart sang counterpoint: be as be may, he couldn’t leave in this gale.

Then I took my bold step. “Husband, ’tis time we retired.” I held out my hand, defying him to refuse in front of the others.

But he did.

Raising gruff brows, he ignored my hand. “I’ll sleep next to the fire.”

Placing my rejected hand to my hair in a pretense of arranging a wisp, I repeated. “Nonetheless, you’ll not refuse me a few moments of your time before retiring. ’Tis a matter of life and death.”

Everyone was watching. Enoch pressed his lips and gazed at me wearily, as if ‘twere a common tug between us.

Then he rose and walked heavily up the stair. Gruoth quickly thrust a candle in my hand and I followed.

The Scot sat on the bed, his head buried in his hands. I placed the candle on the trestle and leaned against the door so he couldn’t escape without hearing me.

“I’m very glad you returned, Enoch. It gives me a chance to tell you something now.”

He didn’t move. I wondered if he’d gone to sleep in that position.

“You see, I’ve changed my mind. Now that I know … of course we need not seek an annulment. You understand that naturally as long as I thought you a
pimpreneau
…”

He raised a face haggard and sober in the dim light.
“I
want the annulment. And I’ll get it.”

“I know very well you don’t want to be wed to me. Didn’t you tell me the very first night? And of course you haven’t …”

“And won’t.”

“But you went through the ceremony and so did I. And there are certain advantages so long as we understand each other. Therefore …”

He moved to rise and I rushed forward to stop him. Grabbed his blouse.

“I know why you don’t want to be wed to me!” I cried.

“Do ye soothly?” There was a note of detached curiosity in his voice. He disentangled my hands and politely pushed me back.

“Aye, ’tis clear as water. You don’t want to be wed to me because I’m a female!”

“Quhat?”
His face showed I was right. He was interested again.

“You see, I
do
know. All I had to do was to look back. In Acre when you said: ‘Betimes I’d rather have a schitten kite for a brother but I do love thee.’ And in Messina when …”

“I remember,” he said sharply. “Air ye suggestin’ I’d like to be married to Alex?”

“Aye, Alex but not Alix.” I almost laughed in triumph. “You want a
brother.
I might not understand if I hadn’t been on a Crusade but I believe most men prefer brothers to wives. The oath of chivalry and …”

He raised his hand. “Alix, I doona want to be wed with a boy. Alex and Alix be as alike as a pea and a pearl in my mind …”

“In mine too! I’ll dress like a boy! Act like a boy! In time you’ll forget.”

Now he stood and walked into the dark. I picked up the candle to follow and found him leaning against the wall. I placed the candle on the trestle, wondered if I dare touch him now. Then he turned and his face reminded me oddly of Richard’s in the depth of his despair.

“Well, I wanted to avoid this fer both our sakes, but yif you insist, and only yif yell speak the truth …”

“I promise!” My heart leaped with hope despite his tone. He must love me still.

“I doona want ye as wife because ye have changed, but I’m not referrin’ to yer sex. I tried to keep ye innocent and I loved ye innocent. But when ye fell—’twas over.”

“Fell? From the quintain?”

“Dinna play stupid, Alix, I warned ye. Ye knaw well what I mean.”

There was a profound silence between us. From the hall below, Gruoth’s voice rose in a plaintive song. I knew she was trying to help me, but I needed quiet to think.

“No, Enoch, I don’t. You’ll have to explain. I’m sorry.”

“Very well. I doona know exactly when the foul act took place, but I learned about it the day after ye left Acre.”

“Go on: ‘foul act.’” My heart sank. His very tone made me feel guilty of some heinous crime, though I knew not what.

He had difficulty. “When ye became the king’s mistress.” He strode to the window and pretended to gaze out into the black blizzard. The wind’s shriek mixed with Gruoth’s wail.

“The king’s mistress!”
I laughed hysterically.

“’Tis nocht comical to me!” He turned back. His voice shook and rose in pitch. “Aye, I knaw that the two of ye mun have laughed to think how ye were foolin the poor slubberdegullian Scot, makin’ him gae into the tunnel, fight in the field and all the time ye were slaverin’ and kissin’ in the king’s pavilion.”

“You fool! Oaf! Dullard!” I screamed. “How could I be mistress to a man who loves boys? How could I have suspected that you’d sold me as a boy if I’d been making love as a girl?”

“The king himself told me! Begged me to relieve him of yer puling caresses! Sayed how he was sick of yer childish passion whan he had work to do!”