The Herald's Heart (26 page)

“I pleaded his forgiveness when I made my vow, and no matter what you say, I will not break that vow. To do so would dishonor God and both of us.”

She was not certain how the breaking of an oath could dishonor God, but Talon was so adamant that she decided not to argue the point. “Dispensation from an oath can be granted.”

“Why bother. You will still be my stepmother. In the eyes of the church, we can never wed.”

Stunned, she jerked backward. “You wish to wed me?”

Did he mean it? How should she respond? Was it even possible? She could petition the church to annul her marriage with the earl. But she would lose the authority and power given her as Countess of Hawksedge. She would have to trust that whomever the king chose to become earl would not contest her claim to Rosewood. Or she would have to give up that claim. What a tangle. But wasn’t Talon’s love worth any sacrifice? Of course, he had not said he loved her in so many words. Clearly now was the time for her trust in him to be tested.

He clasped her hands. “In a perfect world, Larkin, I would wed you and never leave your side. You are everything that is brave and good, and I was too blind, too concerned with my own problems to see the gift you are to me, to all who know you.”

He spoke words every woman wished to hear from the man she loved. Loved? Yes, she did love him, and prayed they could solve the problems that separated them. All the same, she rolled her eyes. “You swell my head with such talk and will make it impossible for me to walk through doors.”

His mouth formed a tight-lipped smile, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “At least you do not accuse me of not believing in you.”

“No, I am fast coming to believe that you might trust me and are heartily sorry for any previous lack of faith.”

He sat back and released her hands. “’Tis true, and good of you to say. But you know it changes nothing.”

If he’d struck her with his fist, she could not have been more surprised. “It changes everything.”

“Nay. That vow and your marriage to my father will always stand between us. Because of that, I also vowed to serve God and take pilgrimage to Jerusalem. I cannot leave until I know that Hawksedge is in good hands and well protected. But once I’ve gone, you will have plenty of time to forget me.”

He did not love her. If he imagined she wanted to forget him and he would not even consider ways to remove obstacles like her marriage and his oaths, he could not love her. Her heart broke as she stood. She’d seen justice done for her family, but what did it matter if she proved herself to be Lady Rosham or not?

“Very well. I’ll not waste any more of your time or mine. I will give up my search for proof of who I am and pray that the word of the king’s herald is sufficient to restore my home to me. I will remove to Rosewood within the week and remain there unless I learn that my word and yours are not sufficient to gain it for me. If that happens, I will go to the abbey and dedicate my life to God, as you have. I do not expect to speak with or hear from you again. Good-bye, Talon.”

She lifted the bar and walked out the door before she could fall at his feet and beg him not to be an obstinate fool. Trust. She would trust he knew his mind and not try to change it. She would survive this too, but she wasn’t sure why.

• • •

“I am fast coming to believe that you might trust me and are heartily sorry for any previous lack of faith.” She’d offered that olive branch, and he rejected it. Because of a promise to God. She herself said faith in God was right. What was faith if not a promise kept? Heaven forefend he should fail to be completely honest and trustworthy, no matter how it hurt them both.

Frustrated, Talon urged his mount to greater speed. But no matter how hard the gallop, he could not outrun the knowledge that he had lost Larkin after all. He tugged on the reins. The horse slowed. Talon let the beast choose his own pace. But regret and sorrow stewed in Talon’s blood.

He’d seek Amis if his friend hadn’t left for court weeks ago carrying messages from Talon to the king and a letter that Larkin wanted sent. The replies could arrive anytime. Talon prayed he would receive the king’s response before Larkin left Hawksedge. That way, he would at least be able to assure her that Edward recognized her as Lady Rosham. With royal acknowledgement in hand, she could then petition the archbishop for annulment of her marriage, if that is what she desired. He wished he knew what she wanted. Were it possible, he’d give it her along with his undying love. But that oath stood in his way, and he could give her nothing but the chance to regain the name and home the earl and Le Hourde had stolen from her.

He shook his head, feeling as lost and aimless as his horse’s ramblings had been in the past moments. He raised his head to take his bearings and saw the abbey rising beyond the hill. Mother Clement would help. She had saved Larkin’s life and given wise counsel when suspicion for the earl’s murder fell on Larkin. Could she advise him on how to heal his heart?

It wouldn’t hurt to try. Afterward, he might seek the anchoress’s blessing on his pilgrimage.

That small spark of hope urged him onward. He arrived at the abbey as Mother Clement was leaving.

“Lady Abbess, I beg speech with you,” Talon said from atop his horse, not willing to give her a chance to refuse.

She cast him a brief look, then hurried onward. “I cannot.”

“But I am desperate.” He sent his mount to walk beside her.

“You may wait if you wish, but Dame Margery’s need is desperate as well. Moreso, I suspect, since she is dying.”

“The anchoress is dying?”

“I have medicines for her.” The abbess indicated the basket on her arm. “However, I do not believe they will cure anything but the pain she suffers.”

Talon dismounted and quickly caught up with Mother Clement on foot. “I am sorry to hear that. For I had intended to seek her blessing as the villagers do. She will be missed.”

Mother Cement nodded. “Come with me then. When I have made her as comfortable as possible, we will see if she can speak with you.”

As they walked, Talon explained his problem to the abbess.

“Why do you not seek dispensation from your oath of the archbishop?”

“Larkin suggested that.”

“She is an intelligent young lady. You should listen to her.”

“Even did I seek and receive dispensation, Larkin would still be my stepmother. God and the church forbid anything more than friendship between us.”

“Hmmm. Her marriage could easily be annulled. I do not believe it was ever consummated.”

He knew it had not been. Larkin had gifted him her maidenhead along with her passion. But he would not tell anyone, though he suspected the abbess might understand. “Since there is no proof that she is Lady Larkin Rosham, Countess of Hawksedge, any petition would be rejected. Even if the proof existed, I would not ask her to petition for annulment. Her claim to Rosewood Castle is stronger if she remains Countess of Hawksedge.”

“And why does the strength of her claim to Rosewood Castle prevent you from confessing your love to her?”

He goggled at the abbess. “I never said I loved her.”

The woman smiled. “No, you did not. Not to me, and I suspect not to Larkin. Do you not think she deserves to know your feelings? Do you not think you should work together to gain a life of joy instead of going separately into misery? She deserves to have your trust that she will ask no more of you than you ask of her. And God will not thank you for misguided devotion that results from rejecting the gifts he has given you.”

“But, you don’t understand.”

Mother Clement held up her hand; they arrived at the anchorage. “You must wait to explain yourself, for Dame Margery deserves all my attention now.”

The abbess produced a large key from a pocket within her habit. Using the key, she unlocked the chain that kept the anchorage door closed and entombed Dame Margery.

“Are you allowed to go within?”

“To aid her passing from this world, yes. Wait here.”

He heard the rise and fall of the women’s voices as time passed, but eventually the anchoress spoke from the window. He could see Mother Clement beside her, an arm around Dame Margery’s shoulder, offering support.

“What troubles you, my son?” The anchoress’s voice was weak and raspy.

Talon stared for some time at the cloudy eyes that saw the terrifying and the beautiful in his face. He marveled at the serene expression that, in the past, had become a rictus of fear at the sight of him.

“I cannot help you find what you seek if you do not tell me what it is.”

What did he truly seek? All his life, he’d wanted to come home, to be welcomed at Hawksedge Keep. Yet he’d given up all hope of that without a thought because he wanted more a world with Larkin in it. He longed to share that world with her, not simply to know of her from a distance. He wished to share each day, each night with her. He would die a happy man if he saw her face with his dying glance.

“How did you come to this place?” he finally asked, wondering in the same breath why he asked. Why hadn’t he answered the anchoress’s question.

“Our heavenly father led me here, child. But that is not what you wanted to know.”

Was he so obvious? And how could he ask what he really wanted to know:
What kind of man will I be if I renounce a promise to God no matter how hasty and ill considered? Is my love for Larkin God’s gift? Is it right or wrong to pursue that love, when I made promises that should prevent me?
He couldn’t ask those questions of an old woman who knew more of prayers than people.

“I came for a blessing.”

“Are you certain you deserve one?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know your own heart?”

What nonsense was this? “Are your blessings not freely given to all who seek them?”

“Aye, but I do not think my blessing is what you truly seek. You spend too little time in chapel and will not see what you seek unless you pray.”

Talon admitted that single-mindedness often blinded him to possibilities. As for the rest, she was wrong. He knew what he wanted. Larkin. He did not mind dedicating his life to God, but he wanted to do it with Larkin by his side. “I tell you I came for a blessing, and you do not believe I seek one. Why think you I came here?”

“I know not. For that, you must search the heart.” She began to sway.

“I know my own mind. I want a blessing from you.”

“Aye, then. Blessings on your mind, my son.”

“You have your blessing. Now leave Dame Margery be, she is weary.” Mother Clement made to close the window.

Talon braced his arm in the window frame that held the shutter ajar. “Nay, that is not what I want.”

The anchoress leaned heavily on Mother Clement. “I told you, did I not, that you must search the heart first?”

“You mistake me.”

The dying woman looked closely at him, and her eyes widened as they had on the first day that she’d seen him. “Nay.” She hid her face in the abbess’s shoulder. “I mistake thee not. All rests within the heart. You told me so yourself.”

Abandoning the battle to close the window, Mother Clement half carried Dame Margery to her bed. When the anchoress was settled, the nun began to pray. “Hail Mary, full of grace...”

Talon turned from the anchorage in disgust with himself for seeking solace where he knew none could be found. He should know better than to seek anything from another. He gained what he had on his own and would keep it on his own. He promised God his life for Larkin’s recovery form Le Hourde’s attack. To imagine that promise displeased the Lord was nonsense. Wasn’t it?

He let his mount graze and settled himself against a nearby tree trunk. Dissatisfied he might be, but he would not leave anyone, nun or princess, to deal with death on her own. He was not a cruel or callous man. Even though keeping the vow he’d made felt like the greatest cruelty known to man.

Sometime later, Mother Clement emerged from the anchorage. “She is gone.”

“I will pray for her soul.”

“Are you satisfied with the blessing she gave you?”

“Nay.”

“Remind me what she said.”

“That I must spend more time in the chapel, but I would find what I most desired in the heart. It makes no sense.”

“Perhaps. There is more, and now that she is gone, it is for me to tell. Come, walk with me. I must tell the other nuns of Dame Margery’s passing and ask their help with the vigil and burial.”

He took his horse by the reins and paced beside her along the abbey wall.

“Dame Margery was a dear friend. We came to this abbey at nearly the same time as girls.”

“Then your care for her is twice as understandable.”

“I would do as much for anyone. I only wish I could have done more for her.”

“How so?”

“I was unable to save her from the cruelty that disturbed her mind. I told you once that Dame Margery became anchoress here after she’d been raped and lost her child.”

“I remember.” Talon tried to be patient, but he really wanted to get back to Larkin.

“What I did not tell you was that she only believed the child, a son, died.”

“The boy lived?” Perhaps if he prompted her, the abbess would get on with this story and he could go. Spend time in the earl’s chapel and perhaps begin to understand the anchoress’s words.

“Aye, ’twas thought best by all concerned that Margery not have any worldly tie to hold her back from the true communion with God that an anchoress seeks.”

“’Twas wrong to take that decision away from her.” Look at the decisions that had been wrested from him because of the actions of others. Now he had done the same to Larkin.

“Perhaps, but ever since the rape, she had bordered on madness. You saw her early reactions to you.”

He pressed his lips together over the illogical hurt those rejections had caused. “Aye, and I’ve never understood. Why would even one slightly mad like Dame Margery fear me so much?”

“Perhaps ’tis because you resemble your father.”

“I do bear the earl some resemblance. Why would that bother the anchoress?”

“The earl might be your father, but so might any of the three other men that raped Margery when she was a novice.”