Stuart, Elizabeth (30 page)

He
nodded. "There's one thing more you should know. I sent Duke Henry a
message commending your aid in the taking of Belavoir. Actually, I sent two
couriers, only one had orders to stumble into Stephen's patrols by
design."

Jocelyn
merely stared at him. What was there to say when her whole world was being
destroyed?

Brian
smiled back at her. "You see, there really isn't much to think on,
Jocelyn. Even if he lives, your husband will never forgive you. You've no
choice but to come in with me."

He
turned to go, but Jocelyn stopped him. "Was our father a party to this?
Does he know what you've done to me?"

Brian
hesitated. "No."

She
nodded, swallowing back all her anguish and rage. "Thank you. That's all I
wanted to know."

And
as her brother disappeared through the door, Jocelyn was already lifting her
bowl of soup. Underneath was a scrap of parchment with a crudely lettered
message in Adam's cramped hand.

Lord
Robert did escape the ambush in the bailey three nights ago. We are all with
you, lady. Do not fear.

Do
not fear! Jocelyn squeezed her eyes shut in an agony. Do not fear! That dear
fool of a boy would get himself killed!

She
crumpled the note, shoved it under the covers just as Alys returned to the
room. She made a pretense of sipping her soup. So Brian had tried another
ambush in the dark. No doubt he'd hoped to make her a wealthy widow before she
had even awakened.

She
offered up a short, fervent prayer of thanks for his failure. Twice now Brian
had tried to murder her husband and twice he had failed. He would fail in this
scheme to hold her as well. No matter what happened, she'd make certain of
that, even if it took her last breath!

She
stared down into her soup, already beginning to plan. Her brother was wrong.
She had a great deal to think on just now.

***

The
days slid into a week, the weeks into a month and then two. Brian rode south to
join Henry, but Jocelyn continued to be closely held in her apartments at
Belavoir. She was kept hidden away from the rest of the castlefolk, saw only
the sullen Alys and a few of her brother's men, occasionally the man with the
scar, sometimes Adam as he brought up her food or water for washing.

It
was impossible to plot an escape. She smuggled a message to Adam, ordering the
boy to get himself out of Belavoir. Still, she wasn't surprised when he ignored
her note, was even a little selfishly relieved though she prayed she wouldn't
regret it. It did her good to see a friendly face.

She
had always hated inactivity and now boredom became her worst enemy. The days
were tortured and endless, the nights even worse as she lay in the darkness and
thought of Robert, wondering what he must be thinking of her.

The
news of a great battle that should have been fought at Malmesbury and hadn't
been, trickled back. Henry laid waste the town, but the castle had held for
Stephen. The king arrived to relieve the siege and thousands of men of both
sides had drawn up facing each other across the flooding river Avon.

A
terrible ice storm had begun to rage and it was impossible to fight, impossible
even to cross the swollen river. A temporary truce was worked out, but then
Henry had been handed Stephen's castle by a traitorous castellan who had
changed sides at the last moment.

Jocelyn
cringed at the news. So too must the whole country be thinking of her. And that
night, for the first time since she had entered this nightmare, she wept in
fear and frustration, lying awake and frightened all night in the dark.

She
was closer to giving up, nearer to total despair than she had ever been in her
life. She prayed earnestly for wisdom, for the strength and grace to endure;
prayed daily and hourly for Robert, that he would live, that he might one day
forgive her for what she hadn't even done.

And
then her brother came back to Belavoir.

***

"Lady,
your lord brother sends word to dress yourself warmly this morning. The sun is
out, and he'll take you for a ride."

Jocelyn
stared at Alys as if the woman were speaking Saracen. "A
ride?"

Alys
shrugged. "That's what his man said. Said to let him know when you're
ready. He'll take you downstairs."

Jocelyn
spun toward her coffer, snatching out a heavy woolen tunic and bliaut. She was
actually to be allowed outside for a ride! She didn't care that it was with
Brian. She would gladly have gone with the devil himself to get outside.

She
dressed in haste, was escorted downstairs and into the hall. Everywhere,
servants stopped their work to stare at her in surprise.

Brian
met her with a smile, took her arm with a show of
gallantry and led her to the
high table where they ate a hurried meal of bread and ale. Then they went
outside into the bailey where their mounts were already waiting. Brian helped
her into the saddle, then swung up himself and they trotted out the gates with
a party of armed men following behind.

They
rode for nearly an hour, checking several of the fields that would soon be
plowed, stopping to water the horses where a shallow stream flowed down from
the nearby hills. Brian dismounted and handed his reins to a squire. "Take
care of the horses. My sister and I will walk."

Jocelyn
slid from her horse. She hadn't the slightest idea what Brian was up to, but
she scarcely cared. She was too thankful to be outside again in the sun and the
wind.

They
strolled a few paces upstream and Brian stopped. His men were well within
summoning distance but far enough not to overhear their words. "You seem
to be enjoying your ride," he said, watching her.

"Yes."

"These
last weeks have been difficult, I suppose. As I recall, you always did hate
being shut up."

Jocelyn
bit her lip. Brian knew she hated confinement. He knew and had done it on
purpose. "It isn't what I'd have chosen," she said.

"I
hope the need for that is past, that it's given you time to think. This could
be a long war. Stephen is strong, but Henry is determined." His eyes met
hers, his next words chilling. "You wouldn't like being confined like this
to the end of it... and beyond."

Jocelyn
held his eyes. "No, I wouldn't like that at all."

He
glanced away, kicked at a tuft of dead grass. "You do know that the story
of how you turned over Belavoir has spread throughout England. It was too rich
a tale for men to keep to themselves. Your husband is a laughingstock,
madam."

May
God in his mercy forgive her, but if she ever had the chance she was going to
cut Brian's throat.

"I'd
supposed it had by now," she said evenly.

He
glanced back, held her eyes. "You cannot hope to go back to him. Even if
by some miracle he survives this war, he'll never take you back—not unless it's
to cage you as he did his first wife."

Jocelyn
held her face expressionless. "I know."

Brian
nodded in satisfaction. "Are you ready to listen, then, to strike a
bargain with me in good faith?"

An
old Welsh saying spun through her head.
A lie to an enemy is no lie at all.
She
lifted her chin, held his eyes. "Of course. I would know what you want of
me."

He
hesitated, frowned. "It's become a bit more complicated than I'd first
planned. The duke wants to meet you. In fact he insists that I bring you to him
at Gloucester."

Jocelyn
stared at him in amazement. Whatever she had expected it wasn't this. But then
it all made sense. Henry of Anjou hated her husband. He wanted his enemy's wife
in his hands—even a traitorous wife.

"No,
Brian, only think," she said swiftly. "If I fall to Henry he can make
whatever disposal of my person and lands he sees fit. If aught happens to
Robert, he can marry me off to whichever of his supporters he wants to reward.
You and Father will lose control of the de Langley lands. You'll have schemed
in all this for naught."

"Do
you take me for a fool? I've thought of that. Henry assures me that won't be
the case."

"And
you believe him?" she cried.

"Yes."
Brian frowned, shrugged. "You've not met the man, Jocelyn. He's different
from any other, impossible to sway once his mind is made up. Once the bit's in
his teeth, there's no holding him. He wishes to see you, and see you he will.
I've already given orders. We'll be leaving in the morning."

Brian
squatted down beside the stream, picked up a twig and began breaking it into
bits. "There's something else you must know first, though. I hadn't
planned on telling you this, at least not yet. However, I need your
cooperation, need to know you'll go along with whatever story I tell the duke.
I know you hate me, but you're going to have to cooperate now or lose
all."

He
glanced up, smiling thinly at her. "I've never thought you stupid, you
know, Jocelyn. I think you'll go along."

When
the gates of hell froze shut!

"What
is it, Brian?"

He
rose slowly to his feet. "Your father and mine weren't the same," he
said bluntly. "Your mother had a lover. Several if the gossip
I heard was
true."

"Liar!"
Jocelyn's hands clenched against her skirt. "How dare you say such a
thing? You're lying! I can read it in your face!"

"It's
truth, Jocelyn, truth after all these years of lies. You're not Montagne but
the bastard byblow of some petty Welsh border chieftain. Father suspected, I
think, though none knew the truth. I made it my business to know, learned a man
by the name of Rhys was Gwendyth's lover both before her marriage and
after."

Rhys!

Jocelyn
caught her breath at the name, at the memories it evoked. A dark laughing face.
Black hair and eyes the color of green gemstones. Rhys. He had been often at
Warford with her mother's kin, had always made Gwendyth laugh. He had been like
another uncle, had taught Jocelyn to ride, to play chess and to use a dagger.

She
was shivering now. "You're lying! Our father would never have countenanced
such a thing."

"Father
didn't look too closely; he didn't want to know. But he always suspected,"
Brian added, watching narrowly, gauging her reaction. "Can you tell me you
never wondered why he treated you so differently from Adelise and myself? Why
you were never truly a part of our family?"

Jocelyn
didn't answer, could only stare into his eyes, eyes so similar to Adelise's,
yet so vastly different.

"Bastards
can't inherit," he was saying softly. "If this story comes to light,
you'll have nothing, you'll be turned out to starve. Even your marriage can be
declared invalid. You'll be landless, dowerless, with no family to lend you
support. You'll have nothing, Jocelyn. Nothing! And I suspect you're smart
enough to know what happens to a woman in that predicament."

Jocelyn
steadied herself, managed to ignore the thundering beat of her heart, to say in
a voice near as even as his own, "And the Montagnes will be the center of
scandal. Our
father will look a fool or worse. Cuckolded all those years, bringing up a
daughter who wasn't even his own."

Brian
nodded, smiling a little as she matched him and bid higher. "Aye, I knew
you weren't stupid. You've put your finger on the problem. Obviously, I
wouldn't have the story come to light any more than you." He hesitated,
lifted his eyebrows and smiled sardonically. "I doubt I need tell you,
though, who'll suffer most if it does."

So
this was what Brian had come up with, this ugly tale to keep her under his
thumb. "And what is it you want of me?" she asked.

Brian
didn't hesitate. "You'll go willingly with me to Gloucester, say and do
all I tell you there. You'll make no effort to reconcile with de Langley, not
that it would do any good. Your husband is a marked man, madam."

"And
if I agree? What then?"

"Then
you remain my sister, of course, the rich widow of Robert de Langley. I'll see
you to Watford in peace, make certain you lack for nothing. You may visit
Adelise, do what you want within reason. You'll be your own mistress, can order
all as you choose."

Jocelyn
stared at her brother. Or was he her brother? She almost hoped not, hoped she
wouldn't be damned for eternity for lifting her hand against her own flesh and
blood.

But
she no longer cared what happened to her, what his men might do, or even the
peril to her soul. Brian had ambushed her husband and twice tried to kill him.
He had betrayed her, would no doubt kill her as well if she stood in his way.
"No one will know?" she asked. "No one," he repeated.

She
held his eyes. Brian was smiling again, certain of victory. She had no legal recourse,
no one to appeal to save her own kinsmen—her father and Brian himself. He had
her cornered and knew it, knew she had little choice.

But
there was always a choice.