Winter Song (8 page)

Raymond had every intention of making the most of that
privilege. His mother’s estates of Villandrau, Durance, and Labrede were
greatly affected by the tides of power that flowed back and forth between two
families, de Soler and Colom. To know how the tide was flowing and to influence
it, even a little, would be of infinite value.

Considering what had been accomplished as he rode back to Marlowe,
Raymond began to understand why everyone had been so disturbed about the lack
of equality between Alys’s fortune and his own. He was not a greedy man, nor
could he love Alys any more now that she was so well dowered. He had loved her
too much almost from the day they met. Nonetheless, there was a rich sense of
pride added to that love when he thought of how he would say, “This is Alys of
Marlowe, my wife, who brought me Amou and Ibos and Benquel and Blancheforte.”
Now no one would think he had been trapped by a pretty face.

Raymond did not allow that thought to color his words when
he gave Alys her betrothal gift, because with the king’s sanction the contracts
had been written and signed, and the betrothal was formal. She looked only
briefly at the jewels—hair ornament, necklet, and bracelets of sapphires and
diamonds set in elaborately worked gold—and then asked about the land. Raymond
laughed and embraced her. Every woman he knew would have rushed to put on the
baubles and pose and preen. Only Alys understood what was really important.

It was thus with considerable enthusiasm that Raymond
described the gains to Alys. Of course, he was not fool enough to imply to any
woman, not even one so sensible as Alys, that her value could be increased by
her property. For a reason Raymond found obscure, women seemed to demand that a
man desire them for themselves alone. And he did, of course, so desire Alys. He
had been quite willing to accept her with nothing, even without Bix if that had
been Sir William’s condition. Still, he knew Alys would be enraged if the true
source of his satisfaction showed. Still, he was surprised at her reaction.

“Mine?” she said. “How can such lands be mine? Assuredly
they were granted because you are nephew to the queen.”

“That helped, no doubt,” Raymond replied, “in that Henry
felt he could trust me and, therefore, was willing to give more. However, the
lands are yours—your father and your ‘uncle’ Richard saw to that.”

A faint flicker of anger lit Raymond’s eyes when he recalled
those earlier deliberations, but it died quickly. When the way the lands were
to be held was discussed, Raymond and Henry had expected to have a free hand
with them. Richard and William stood adamant that they were to be Alys’s at her
will. Naturally, her husband would administer the properties during his life
and while his wife lived, however, she could will them as she pleased, and if
her husband should die before her, the lands would revert intact to Alys
herself, not to her son or sons. Those children would be the wards of her
husband’s male relatives who could take them and the land from Alys, leaving
her with nothing.

Henry had been startled, Raymond appalled. “Do you not trust
me?” Raymond had asked furiously. “Do you think I would cheat Alys or flout her
desire? Perhaps you think I will murder her, or—”

“Do you not trust Alys?” William had countered sharply. “What
do you think she will do, die before you apurpose and leave the lands to
displease you? Do you want her to be utterly in the power of your father or
younger brother?”

That had stopped Raymond’s protests. “They would treat her
with kindness,” he assured William, “but you are right. It is not good to be a
helpless pawn without even the right to an opinion. And if some mischance
should destroy my father and brother before me, God knows where the right would
go. My grandfather is old and has no legitimate sons.”

Somewhat similar arguments had been advanced by Richard to
Henry. “Do you want Alphonse d’Aix or the heir of Raymond-Berenger to have a
claim on the lands?” Richard had asked his brother. “For God’s sake, Henry,
they must go only to the girl. She is English and, through her father, my
vassal, thus yours. The lands may be administered by Raymond. He is a good man,
honest and loyal, but they must be held in the lady’s name only.”

Alys now noted the flicker of anger on her betrothed’s
countenance—she noticed everything about him these days with a piercing
clarity. “Perhaps you had better explain to me just what you mean when you say
the lands are mine.”

Temptation flashed through Raymond. He knew he could tell
Alys anything, and she would believe him. It was a trust he could not violate.
No land or power was worth the ugly knowledge that he had lied to Alys, who
believed in him so implicitly. He explained as clearly as he could the terms of
the marriage contract. Alys wrinkled her brows in thought.

“That means that if I wish I can hire a knight and rule the land
myself, that the dependent vassals will do homage to me. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Raymond said somewhat stiffly.

Alys stared at him for a moment, then turned her eyes to her
own fingers. She had understood him, but could not believe that what she heard
was true. The shock of Raymond’s flat yes, which made of her a rich and
independent woman, momentarily blotted out all other responses.

“And I will sit in justice, as my father does, and as I do
when I am his deputy?”

“Yes.”

“And look to the accounts of the lands?”

“Yes.”

Shock had given way to joy. Alys was so absorbed in her
growing sense of liberation that she failed to notice the increasing coldness
of Raymond’s responses. She smiled brilliantly, closed her eyes, and sighed
with relief.

“Thank God I will not need to sit all day sewing a fine
seam,” she breathed. Then her eyes snapped open. “You will have to tell me just
exactly what to do and say, Raymond,” she said very seriously. “I know
everything will be all different in Gascony, I mean the customs and rights. You
will really have to do it all at first. And you will have to convince the
vassals and castellans that I am not a fool and that your sword will back my
word.”

Raymond burst out laughing as the chagrin he felt melted.
There was no one in the world as sensible and reasonable as Alys. Of course she
must seem to rule. If she did not and he should die, the legal tenure of the
land would be nearly meaningless. Whereas, if the men knew and trusted her,
they would protect her until her sons reached maturity or some other
arrangement—Raymond could not even think “until she married again”—could be
made. He agreed warmly that she would take homage and do justice and he would
stand beside her to back her word in all things.

But instead of being satisfied, Alys’s brow furrowed even
deeper, and she asked again about the nominal worth of the lands. When Raymond
replied, her breath hissed in. “The king would not lightly part with such
revenues. Will you have to fight to put out the present holders?”

More than once Sir William had commented wryly that Raymond
would find there were disadvantages to the cleverness he praised so highly in
Alys. This was the first time Raymond had cause to remember that and agree. It
would not, he suspected, be the last time.

“I hope not,” he temporized. “However, the sooner we are there
in our own persons to make our claim, the less chance there will be for any
contest. The king has already sent letters to name you overlady and me as your
husband. Still, the quicker we are there to take all in our hands, the better.
Thus, need and desire match perfectly for once. The sooner we marry, the
better.”

“Yes, of course, but from what you say, Amou is strong and
very rich. Ibos is also rich, and the other two of less worth but still not to
be despised. Why should the king give so much unless the lands are not his to
give.”

“They are his to give,” Raymond said, recognizing his defeat
in trying to turn Alys’s attention, “but it is a long way from Gascony to
England, and the revenue diminishes by each hand through which it passes until
it is either nothing or a debt by the time it comes here. Thus, the twenty
pounds a year from Bix is worth more than the several hundred marks we will
have from the lands. Moreover, Earl Richard gave the king in hand three thousand
marks, which is what he would have given to you as a wedding gift. You do not,
I hope, object to its bestowal in land.”

“No, not at all!” Alys exclaimed. “How kind of Uncle
Richard! And I know that Henry is always in desperate need of money. But, Raymond,
it still seems a great deal for relatively little. Do you truly believe the men
who hold the keeps now will yield them to you without war?”

Clever, clever—entirely too clever, Raymond thought, looking
into Alys’s face and not daring to lie. After all, the truth would become
obvious as soon as they reached Gascony. “Blancheforte is empty except for the
serfs of the demesne,” he began, “and the man who holds Benquel will not dare
contest with me because the Vicomte de Marsan will come to my support and cast
him out, whereas accepting my rule will bring peace to his lands and cost him
nothing. Besides, I know him a little—Sir Oliver is his name—and he is a good
enough man who has done his best in an impossible situation.”

“I am not an idiot, Raymond,” Alys said. “I was not asking
you about those lands, and you know it.”

Raymond grinned at her. “It never hurts to try. I do not
believe in holding my neck extended to get my head chopped off. But really,
love, it is not near so bad as you seem to think. Henry is certain the
castellan of Amou will be overjoyed to see me. He is a Sir Conon, an older man,
without heirs, and said to be both honest and honorable. He has been writing
angry letters that Béarn has been threatening him and trying to obtain the
revenues.”

“Then you will have to fight Béarn?”

“Not an open war, anyway, and certainly not immediately. Do
not forget, Alys, that Gaston is my great-uncle. I know it is silly, he is no
more than twelve years my senior, but he and my grandfather are half brothers.
Garsenda was first married to Alphonse of Provence and bore him
Raymond-Berenger. Many years later when Alphonse died, she married the Count of
Béarn and bore him Gaston. I doubt he will oppose me in arms. He will try to
win me with soft words and promises.”

Alys examined his face carefully for a moment. He was not,
she decided, telling a half-truth about Amou, but there was something… “Then it
is the other estate, the one at Ibos, that you will need to take by force,” she
said.

Raymond’s lips tightened. “Most probably, yes,” he replied, “although
it is not certain. Now that Toulouse is cast down, Sir Garnier may think better
of his defiance, but truly, Alys, I hope he will not. I could not trust him. I
think I would have to tell you to refuse. In any case, I think I will need to
take Ibos by force.”

Alys did not say that she would not refuse, even if he told
her to do so. She knew she would obey, however little she liked the result of
that obedience. Moreover, it was her duty and probably one of the conditions
under which the estate had been granted, because Henry’s reason for granting it
was that Raymond should win it back from French influence.

“How likely are you to hold it if you can take it?” she
asked, wondering whether she was going to have to look forward to a whole
lifetime of futile war.

“There will be no trouble about that. Toulouse had no right
to take Garnier’s fealty, except that Tarbes is Toulouse’s. Louis certainly
will not press the point during the years that remain for the truce, and even
after that, I doubt he would try to unseat me. His sense of justice is very
strong, and I am Margaret’s nephew as well as Eleanor’s, you know. Of course,
Margaret is by no means as fond of me as Eleanor is, nor does Louis listen to
her as Henry listens to Eleanor, but still the blood bond must mean something,
and by law the land is mine—no, yours.”

“
Ours
,” Alys said.

Raymond smiled at her. Now his face was clear, his eyes
bright with enthusiasm. Alys repressed the thought that it only took one war to
kill a man and comforted herself with the conviction that Raymond understood
the policies and politics of France and the duchies that surrounded it far
better than she. In any case, it was stupid to worry about things months or
years in the future. Raymond would take possession of the uncontested lands
first and, if he had to fight for Ibos, would spend some time gathering
strength. By then, perhaps God would smite Garnier dead. At least she was not
to be a painted image, she would have tasks and duties.

“Have you seen any of these places?” Alys asked.

“Only Benquel. It is a shell keep, like Hurley. The country
is fine and rich, but Benquel has suffered much from Marsan’s looking the other
way when his men raid.”

“But you said—”

“That there would be no trouble and there will be none,”
Raymond assured her. “As soon as I offer to do fealty, or rather that you will
do fealty, to Marsan for the lands.” He then explained about the history of
Benquel. “Once Marsan feels his honor is satisfied,” Raymond concluded, “he will
see that no more damage or insult is given. He likes me. I have always paid my
dues on my farms on time and have been a visitor in Mont de Marsan. Still, the
sooner we come to terms, the better.”

“Yes, indeed,” Alys agreed. “You are right. We had better
marry in haste, so that we can begin to take the lands in hand before winter
makes traveling too hard. I will speak to Papa, but I do not see any reason to
invite many besides Uncle Richard.”

Raymond sputtered. “Alys, you are the most unromantic woman.
Do you not desire that all the maidens in the kingdom should envy your good
fortune?”

“What good fortune?” Alys teased. “Marrying you? Or the
possibility of becoming a widow before the next year is out?”