Stuart, Elizabeth (38 page)

He
hesitated, drew in a deep breath. "Well... Geoffrey and Aymer know what to
do to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

She
nodded, keeping her wide, luminous eyes trained on his. He had never wanted so
badly to kiss her, to take her in his arms and tell her all she'd meant to him.
"If—" He swallowed hard. "If by some mischance you should be
taken, love, I'll still try for the other side. Henry doesn't want me in that
fight for Wallingford. I'll be able to barter myself back for your
freedom."

Jocelyn
reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I want you with me on the other
side. Why don't we just plan for that."

Despite
the guards watching, Robert leaned forward and kissed her. It had been so much
simpler before, before Jocelyn had come and held his heart in her hand. But he
wouldn't trade what they had together, wouldn't trade it for anything on earth.
"Yes," he said, lifting his head, forcing a smile around the knot of
fear in his chest. "Let's plan for that."

***

They
rested—or what passed as resting—for a good half-hour, and it was one of the
worst times Jocelyn had
ever
spent in her life. Her mouth was dry, her stomach knotting and churning as she
wondered what would happen, what Henry would do if they failed.

Then
one of the guards was bringing up the horses, and Robert caught her hand,
swinging her to her feet. "Now ride for your life, sweetheart," he
whispered. "And know that in these last few months, you've made me the
happiest man on earth."

He
boosted her quickly into the saddle for several of their guards were mounting
up. And even though Jocelyn was expecting it, the sudden explosion of horses
and riders took her breath.

As
if on signal the horses of their guards went wild as several hundred pounds of
man and mail bore down on Thomas's carefully placed thorns. The animals bucked
and plunged, veering wildly into each other and away, tossing their riders and
scattering the little knot of surprised guards in all directions.

Men
everywhere stared, dumbstruck, or dodged maddened horses. More importantly,
none were paying the prisoners any heed. Robert landed the distracted guard
nearest him a stunning blow to the chin, then grabbed up the reins of his mount
and vaulted into the saddle. Then he and Jocelyn were galloping through camp,
making straight for the river.

Jocelyn
bent low in the saddle, urging her horse after the flying figure of her
husband. All about them men were running and shouting, but the sounds and
sights seemed a strange screaming blur.

Then
the river was before them, cool and placid as it flowed between high grassy
banks. Robert's horse plunged down the embankment, sliding, straining back on
his hocks only to gather himself and lunge forward, throwing up a blinding
spray of water on both sides.

Jocelyn
was only a few strides behind. She felt her mount hesitate, bunch powerful
muscles as he gathered himself for that plunge down the bank... then changed
his mind, too late, and tried to stop.

She
rocketed forward onto his neck, grabbing wildly for
saddle, reins,
coarse tangled mane, to stop her fall. And then the soft, crumbling earth at
the edge of the embankment gave way, and they were tumbling headlong into the
cold, swirling waters of the river.

Jocelyn
hit the water, pushing instinctively away from the thrashing hooves of her
panicked mount. The water swept up and over her head, blinding, choking, as she
fought to hold her face above the surface. Her horse righted himself and began
to swim, and she grabbed for his trailing reins, but it was too late. The river
had already swept them beyond reach.

Just
ahead Robert was swinging his swimming mount from the river channel and back
toward her, but from even nearer by came the shouts and splashing of two
mounted knights as they plunged into the water behind her.

"Robert...
no! Go on," she screamed. "Go back!"

She
struggled to find her footing, discovered she could barely stand against the
current. She lunged toward him, let the river carry her forward and downstream
from the knights. "Go, back!" she shouted again. "Go back!"

But
Robert didn't turn. He swept past her, launching himself like a madman directly
at the armed knight riding down on her. The man swung his sword and Robert
managed to dodge back and catch his arm. Then the two were grappling furiously
for the weapon, as the horses matched each other stride for stride, in the
churning, roiling water.

It
was all over in seconds. Miraculously Robert had the sword, had shoved the
heavily weighted knight into the river and was flinging himself against his
next opponent. The man shouted for help, then disengaged hastily and swung
away, for a mailed knight unhorsed in deep water drew a death sentence.

Robert
seized those precious seconds to turn his horse downriver toward Jocelyn. He
reached for her and she caught his arm, was dragged alongside his swimming
mount until he could lift her into the saddle before him. The horse lunged out
into the current, swimming strongly, just as a hail of deadly arrows began
striking the water all around.

"No!
Sweet Christ, no!" Robert groaned, bending low
over Jocelyn,
trying to protect her. This was what he had feared, the one thing he couldn't
fight.

From
behind came the familiar raging voice of the duke. "Stop it! Stop it, you
fools! I'll have the eyes of the man who hits them!"

Robert
lifted his head, risked a quick glance over his shoulder as the rain of arrows
abruptly stopped. A half-dozen bowmen wearing the earl of Chester's livery
stood along the bank awaiting further orders. Just a few yards back, Henry was
swinging down from his stallion, arguing furiously with Chester himself.

Robert
drew in a long breath, kept his horse swimming hard for the bank. Stephen's
knights must have seen them, recognized him, for they were whooping and
shouting with excitement as they galloped along the river toward him.

Within
seconds Robert's horse had found its feet and was scrambling up the muddy bank.
Robert squeezed Jocelyn tight in his arms. He didn't think he had ever felt so
thankful before in all his life. "We've made it!" he cried
triumphantly. "By the mercy of God we've made it!"

Jocelyn
leaned back against him, wet and disheveled and breathless from the excitement.
"By the mercy of God...
and
Henry of Anjou."

Robert
drew in another breath. Jocelyn was right. Chester would have killed them if he
could.

He
stared back across the water. The disgruntled earl and his men were walking
toward their horses. Nearer by, Henry sat his restive stallion, watching.

Across
that narrow expanse of water, their eyes connected. Robert raised his sword in
a salute of mute thanks. After a moment the duke lifted his hand.

***

In
the next few days Henry laid a hasty siege to Stephen's castle of Crowmarsh,
finally coming to the rescue of the long-beleagured town of Wallingford. The
king countered by sending a force of three hundred knights to quarter at Oxford
and harry Henry's forces, while he gathered thousands of men and hurried to
meet the duke. And just as at Malmesbury, two mighty armies drew up
facing each
other across a river, and just as at Malmesbury no battle was joined.

It
was dusk when Robert returned from the king's council meeting. Jocelyn rose
from the table where she had been pretending to sew. "Is it tomorrow,
then?" she asked unsteadily. "Will the fighting begin tomorrow?"

Robert
stood wordlessly a moment and that silence frightened her more than anything
else might have done. She took a step forward, her heart surging wildly.
"Merciful God, Robert, don't tell me you're to be at the fore!"

"No,
Jocelyn, no sweetheart, it's just—" He shook his head. "It's all so
strange. There isn't to be a battle. Not for some weeks anyway."

"What?"

"A
truce is declared. A fortnight they say, though de Lucy told me in confidence
it's to be extended as necessary. Archbishop Theobald and the bishop of
Winchester, the king's own brother, have combined to force a truce on both
Henry and Stephen."

Robert
shook his head again, wonderingly. "Leicester is in on this, a few of the
most powerful magnates on both sides have agreed. They're refusing to fight,
have decided there's been enough killing, that there must be some kind of peaceful
settlement between Stephen and the duke. Both the king and Henry are said to be
raging, but without a respectable number of fighting-men, neither can make
decent war."

For
a moment it was difficult to believe her ears. Then Jocelyn was across the room
with a cry of joy and into her husband's arms. God bless Leicester! God bless
every man with a grain of sense who had decided to stop this madness before the
Thames was a river of blood!

Robert
held her, murmured against her hair, "I wonder if he knew. I wonder if
Henry knew this was happening. Since Leicester was in on it I suspect he must
have. And it would explain so much, Jocelyn, would explain his generosity that
day at the river."

His
words trailed off and Jocelyn leaned her head against his chest, feeling the
strong, reassuring throb of his heart against her cheek. Thank God it would
continue, that
it wouldn't be stopped in some pointless battle tomorrow. "I don't care
why Henry let us go," she murmured. "I only know I'll be thankful to
him for so long as I live."

Robert
nodded. "I may never trust the man, but I cannot hate him longer. Not
after that. And I suppose he'll be my king one day. Judas, what a rough ride
that's like to be! The rumor is that the treaty will bypass Eustace and make
Henry heir to the crown. Eustace won't settle tamely, of course, but he hasn't
men enough to fight all England alone."

Jocelyn
snuggled closer in her husband's arms. She was so relieved Robert wouldn't have
to fight, she hardly cared for anything else. But there was one thing more she
wanted, one thing yet to make her happiness complete. With a major battle
pending, she hadn't wanted to tell Robert about his child, hadn't wanted him to
carry that burden as well as all the rest.

"They
say the duke's wife is expecting their first child," she murmured.
"That he looks for word of it from Anjou any day."

Robert
nodded. "He hopes for a boy, I know."

"Our
children will be much of an age then, my lord."

She
felt Robert stiffen, heard his sharp intake of breath. "Are you telling
me—" He broke off, swallowed hard. "Are you telling me you're
carrying my child?"

"It
is certainly no other man's."

"Sweet
Christ, Jocelyn, I didn't mean—"

Jocelyn
was holding tight to her husband, laughing for the overwhelming joy of this
gift she could offer. "Oh, Robert, I know you didn't. I'm only so happy I
scarce know myself what I'm saying!"

She
pulled back and gazed up at him, but her husband's face was anything but
joyful. "Robert, I..." She faltered, stunned by his obvious distress.
"I... I thought you'd be pleased, thought you'd want a child."

"I
do. Jocelyn, I do. It's just..." He stared at her worriedly. "When is
it to come?"

"I'm
not sure yet. February perhaps."

"The
starving time," Robert muttered. "I always heard it a difficult
season, both for the mother and the babe."

Jocelyn
smiled for she knew what this was
about. "There is plenty of food
stored away at Belavoir. I won't go hungry, my love."

"No,
madam, that you will not! Not even if every other soul in the west country
must."

Jocelyn
reached up and cupped his face tenderly. How could so brave a man worry so much
for this most natural thing on God's earth? "Listen to me now, Robert, for
we will have months of this to get through. I'm not one of these frail, fragile
creatures of the court, fainting away for a sneeze. I was born of the land,
strong and healthy and well able to bear you sons. My father always despaired
for my lack of a fine lady's ways. He told me I should have been
a boy."

She
smiled again. "All will be well, Robert, truly. I'll not have you tearing
yourself apart these next months for no cause."

He
caught her hand, pressed his mouth against her palm. "I know it, Jocelyn.
Before God, I do. And I'll be with you, I swear. Even if Stephen and Henry are
raging and tearing and pulling all of heaven down about our ears."

He
hesitated, met her eyes then with a wry smile of his own. "Sometimes this
caring so much is
a
curse, you know, sweetheart. Before I met you and loved you, I feared little on
earth. Now I have peace, happiness, a contentment I've never known. You've
given me so much, made me so fear losing it. I find myself starting at shadows,
frightened by the very news I've so longed to hear."

She
drew her fingers gently across his face. "You are pleased, then?"

He
pulled her against him. "You must know the answer to that. In some ways I
fear it, but yes, I do wish for a child with all my heart."