Stuart, Elizabeth (37 page)

"So
I've seen." Montagne was still smiling. "You've done well for
yourself, girl, better by far than I'd expected. Men say you've tamed the Lion
of Normandy to your skirts. Now I find you the intimate of earls, of the man
who will soon be our king." He drank again. "Perhaps it's you who
should speak for me."

"If
there is ever a cause I will do so," Jocelyn said softly. "Thank you,
Father. Thank you for coming."

"Your
husband I may not like for the long enmity that lies between us," Montagne
muttered. "But I swear to you on the peril of my soul that I had nothing
to do with those attempts to murder him. We share a blood bond with this
marriage, a bond I'd not taint with treachery. I rode here today to speak for
him even as you asked. It's obvious, though, that he no longer stands in need
of it." He drank again. "When did he swear to Henry?"

"He
hasn't."

He
glanced up sharply. "But he seems on good terms with the duke."

"Yes.
With an ax hanging over both our heads."

"How
so?"

"Henry
would make Robert do homage to him. Robert
will not. So far we are both treated
well, but have no notion how long that will last."

Jocelyn
sipped her wine and stared at the table. "In the meantime, Robert and I
dance to the tune of Henry's making—and he does so love to call the tune. And I
lie awake in the night wondering when my husband might be dragged out to be
slain, when your son might succeed in convincing Henry that I am a witch to be
burned."

"That,
at least, I can help you with, daughter. There will be no more talk of
witchcraft." Montagne finished his wine and stood. "Brian has taken
much on himself these last months, seems to think he has outgrown a father's
governance. I'm about to teach him he has not."

Jocelyn
stared up at him. "Thank you, Father. It may save Robert one sleepless
night in two."

Montagne
nodded, started to go and then turned back. "It's said you're well thought
of both in Stephen's camp and here. There are endless stories making the rounds
about you, child, some so wild I dared not believe them."

He
hesitated, held her eyes. "I never set your value at much, and it's
obvious from your letter that fact was no secret. Well, I'm not a man much
given to past regrets or future promises, but I'd be a poor one could I not
admit I'd been wrong. You've made me proud of you, Jocelyn. Something I can't
say for my son."

Jocelyn
was surprised to find the words meant so much. She had thought it too late to
care. "For a time these last months, I was almost hoping Rhy was my
father," she murmured. "But you know, my lord, I find I am glad he
was not."

A
slow smile warmed Montagne's dusty, aging face. "Good day to you, Lady de
Langley. I will see you again... and your lord."

Robert
was angry. "The guards say we're to start for Wallingford in the morning.
I know Stephen will meet the duke there, and God help me, Jocelyn, I'll go mad,
I think, if I must sit and twiddle my thumbs while the fate of this land is
decided in one bitter battle!"

Jocelyn
fought the unexpected surge of relief. She was almost thankful the duke held
Robert, at least she wouldn't lose him in battle. But she knew her husband well
enough to know that if Stephen lost all at Wallingford, he would have
difficulty overcoming his bitterness. Robert would never forgive Henry for
refusing to ransom him, would never forgive himself for being forced to abandon
his king.

She
longed to put her arms around him, but Robert was pacing the narrow confines of
the tent, reminding her a little of the duke as he prowled and frowned and
snarled. "To make matters worse, I must now ride off for a day's pleasure
at hunting with that devil and some of his traitor lords.
Pleasure!"
Robert spit out.
"Can you imagine? I must hold my tongue and pretend to hunt when I would
rather by far see them all flayed alive!"

"But
if the duke has ordered it, you must go," Jocelyn reminded him softly.

Robert
drew in his breath. "Aye, so I must. And you'll be left here alone to
ready our things for travel. I'm sorry, sweetheart." His eyes moved over
her, concerned. "You're looking tired again. Are you certain you're all
right?"

Jocelyn
smiled, going gratefully into the arms he held out. "I'm well, Robert,
truly. I've just not slept much these last nights. Don't worry about the
packing, though. I'll send for that girl Henry gave me as maid. Ella's duties
have been light
enough. I'll make her earn her keep today."

Robert
smiled. "Aye, there'll be many earning their pay and more these next few
hours. Pity Leicester and Cornwall. They must get everyone scrambling and
cursing, riding frantically to set up new sources of supply, making all the men
and horses, carts and baggage, ready to travel, all in just one day. Henry
certainly doesn't set his plans to suit the convenience of others."

Jocelyn
reached up and kissed her husband. "No, my love. Few great lords do."

"My
lord de Langley, the duke sends for you now," one of the guards called.
"You're to come at once."

Robert
scowled. "With him it is always
at once!"

Jocelyn
smiled and rose up on her toes to kiss him again. "Go, my darling, I'll be
fine. Just please, for God's sake and mine, hold your tongue!"

Robert
grinned then and was gone and Jocelyn set about preparing their little
household for the journey. She didn't send for Ella, however, didn't trust the
girl's prying eyes. Besides, there wasn't really much to do. There were clothes
to be packed, a few games and precious books Robert used to beguile the time,
even one of Henry's favorites, a costly book of Abelard her husband had
borrowed.

She
wrapped the valuable book and set it aside. The duke was unusually learned,
speaking and even reading a bit in most known tongues, quoting philosophy and
law and enjoying the discussing and arguing of it immensely. If only he weren't
Robert's enemy, she might have admired such a man.

With
a weary sigh she rose to her feet, reaching out to catch at a table as the room
began to spin. The afternoon heat was becoming oppressive, and she knew she
needed to lie down. She was lucky Robert was usually gone at this time. So far,
he hadn't become suspicious.

She
lay down and closed her eyes, spreading her hands across her belly. She was
certain now she carried Robert's child, but as much as she longed for a babe,
she couldn't bear to tell him. Robert worried enough already. If he knew she
carried his child she would be a doubly-effective
weapon against him, one, she
knew, Henry wouldn't hesitate to use.

She
drowsed for a bit, not sleeping deeply, and was awakened when one of the guards
called, "My lady, one of Leicester's squires is here with baskets for you
to pack your things. Do you need him?"

Jocelyn
scrambled to her feet, smoothing her hair and dress, hoping she wasn't
unnaturally pale. "Send him in."

A
familiar figure ducked in with several large panniers for the pack horses, but
it was neither of Leicester's squires. Young Thomas Abenai, squire to the dead
earl of Warwick, flashed her a warning look as he bowed. "Lady, my lord of
Leicester sent me to make myself useful. Is there aught you would have me
do?"

"Certainly,
boy," Jocelyn answered. "You're a Godsend. There is much still to be
done."

The
guard checked through the baskets then turned to the boy. "You may help
the lady. Let me know if there's aught else she needs."

Thomas
nodded, and when they were alone she asked softly, "How do you come
here?"

Thomas
knelt and kissed her hand. "We can speak of that later, only let me tell
this in case we are interrupted. Belavoir is back in loyal hands. Your lord's
standard flies from the gatehouse, and the duke's own messenger was turned away
with arrows and abuse. I overheard the duke and Leicester talking of it, but
don't think them likely to tell him."

The
boy grinned at that, his blue eyes dancing beneath a shock of dark hair.
"I thought, lady, that I might set that much to rights at least."

Jocelyn
gripped his shoulder. "How did it happen?"

"No
one knows. It's known only that your husband's men again man the walls."

Jocelyn
smiled. "Thank you, Thomas. This will give my lord new heart. Now tell me.
How are you here?"

The
boy rose to his feet. "I came behind you under a safe conduct, lady,
bringing my lord back to Warwick to be buried. I've been waiting up at the
castle since, for my father to send me word where to go.

"Then
my lord of Leicester drew me aside, and I
learned why I hadn't been allowed back
to camp. My father has come over to Henry, lady. My own father! I wanted to
spit in Leicester's face and damn them all when he told me, but I couldn't. The
earl has been too kind."

Jocelyn
squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, and the boy went on, "As one of the
earl's own squires broke an arm, he's taken me in until my father finds me
service with some new master. An Angevin master no doubt!" Thomas spat.
"I've been waiting days for an excuse to come here, to say if there is
aught I can do for you or your lord, I would gladly give my life!"

Jocelyn
studied the boy. He was fourteen, old enough to hold fierce ideals and the
loyalties that went with them, too young to piece reason and justice from the
tangled mess England had become.

"Thank
you, Thomas. My lord will value your loyalty, as do I. But don't judge your
father too harshly. There's no saying any longer where honor lies in this
miserable contest. There are good men and bad on both sides."

The
boy nodded. "I just wanted Lord de Langley to know. Despite what my father
has done, I would gladly serve him in anything." His eyes flashed.
"Even if there is danger!"

Jocelyn
smiled.
Especially
if
there were danger. It was just the kind of thing to appeal to a hot blooded
lad. "I'll tell him. Now you must help me unpack my things and pack again,
else those sentries will wonder what we've been about."

The
two went to work, had things nearly repacked by the time Robert returned with
Leicester and Hereford and the host of guards that followed. Robert didn't
blink so much as an eyelash when Jocelyn introduced young Thomas as if the boy
were a stranger.

We
are getting too good at this,
Jocelyn thought.
We have lived so
long with deceit it is second nature.

But
when everyone was gone she gave her husband the good news of Belavoir.
"God in heaven above be praised!" Robert whispered, such a blaze of
joy and hope in his eyes she would gladly have sacrificed every scruple she'd
ever held if only to be able to put it there again.

"My
men must have overwhelmed them and escaped,
probably with the help of the servants.
This will do little to stop Henry. He holds most of the west now." Robert
grinned, grabbed her up, and swung her around in his arms. "But it does
mean a great deal to me, madam. It does mean a great deal to me!"

He
set her down then, suddenly thoughtful. "And that boy Thomas. Who knows
but that God has sent him. I'll think on it, be watchful tomorrow. These guards
are so sure I'll risk nothing with you here, they grow almost lax in their
duties."

Jocelyn
reached for him. "Oh, Robert, I'm afraid," she whispered before she
could stop herself. "Don't do anything foolish, my love."

He
wrapped his arms around her, kissed her long and lingeringly and Jocelyn
thought of the child she carried, of this man she loved more than life itself.
Her throat ached. It was an effort to hold the tears back.

"Whatever
we do, it will be together," he murmured. "I would risk your life for
no cause on God's earth. And as it's unlikely anything will come of the boy,
I'll tell you not to fret." He hesitated. "It's just so good to feel
hope again, to feel hope after living so long without."

***

The
ride that next day was hot and uncomfortable, and Jocelyn fought to hide the
fact that she didn't feel well. And Robert was right: they saw Thomas as he ran
errands for Leicester—watering horses, collecting firewood, and fetching
wineskins—but nothing unusual happened.

By
the next afternoon the vanguard of Henry's army was nearing the besieged city
of Wallingford. Across the winding, blue-gilt ribbon of the river, they
occasionally caught sight of Stephen's advance guards. The knights sat their
horses on the opposite bank, watching suspiciously, weapons and armor flashing
blindingly in the late-afternoon sun.

Robert
tried to ignore the seductive lure of freedom across the water, but it was
impossible. At this season, the Thames was so narrow he could probably have
shouted across and been heard. It wouldn't be difficult to cross without a
ford, not even for Jocelyn.

He
toyed with the idea of escape, tantalized himself
with the vision of himself and
Jocelyn galloping up that far bank. If he were alone he would make a run for
it, let the duke's archers shoot him down if they dared.

He
glanced at his wife, found her smiling in that odd way she had that told him
she knew his thoughts. She leaned forward, pretending to brush at a fly.
"Do what you want, love, and don't fret for me. I'll be behind you,"
she whispered,

A
cold and unnerving fear washed over him, settling heavily in the pit of his
stomach. What if they tried and failed? What if Jocelyn were hurt?

He
gripped his reins, held his breath. But what if they didn't try, and he was
forced to swear to Henry? He would always wonder and tear at himself and know
that he should have tried.

A
shout came from up the column and word was passed back to rest the horses. He
would have time to think, at least.

They
dismounted and sought refuge from the heat in the shade of a stand of alders.
Young Thomas came by distributing wineskins. The boy was a familiar figure now.
He passed the line of guards without question, handing Robert a dripping skin.

Robert
swung it up and pretended to drink, his heart pounding swift and unsteadily.
"Do you think once we start to mount up that you might create a diversion,
lad?" he whispered. "A loose horse galloping through camp, perhaps a
baggage cart catching fire if you can manage without danger? I would take my
lady across that river and have decided it must be today."

The
boy gave no indication he had heard, merely taking the wineskin and handing it
across to Jocelyn. "I've been ordered to water these horses, my lord, and
there is hawthorn growing along the path to the river." He grinned.
"A few thorns might create a diversion, I'd think. Under the right saddle
blankets."

"Don't
wait to see. Drop behind to the baggage train and get yourself across the
river. Find de Lucy or the earl of York. Either will take you in for love of
me."

The
boy bowed and walked away without looking back and Robert struggled to hold his
excitement in
check. Jocelyn glanced at him once, then leaned back and closed her eyes as if
resting. But her face had paled and the pulse in her throat beat wildly.

He
leaned closer in concern. "There won't be much time, love," he
whispered. "We'll have to make a run for it as soon as those horses begin
to rage and tear. Can you make it? There'll be no turning back once the thing's
begun."

She
opened her eyes, managed to smile up at him in that confident way she had.
"Certainly, my lord. Need you ask?"

Robert
frowned. Everything depended on those first few seconds of their break, and
there wasn't time for much planning. "I don't think they'll shoot
us," he muttered, "for Henry does want me alive. However, you must
keep going, Jocelyn, even if I should go down. I want you across there, safe on
the opposite side of the river from Henry and Brian. No matter what happens,
promise you'll keep going. And if anything should happen to me..."