Siege Of the Heart (25 page)

As Isabel listened to the men talk, she realized she had not been the only one who wanted to know her future. All of the Norman soldiers had placed their hopes in William’s hands as well. That was true power, to control the destinies of so many.

When they reached the bailey, a servant directed Isabel and Averill away from the men and horses to the room Alex managed to procure. Alex must have been more important to William than she had been led to believe if he was granted rooms in the castle. Even if some parts of it were still under construction. It certainly was not on her account. Despite her father’s friendship with William, he would be foolish to treat her differently than the rest of the conquered.

Before long, a servant brought her a small basin of hot water and some fresh linens. Another pleasant surprise. It felt good to clean away the smell of horse and the dirt of the road. She donned one of her simpler gowns and smoothed her cloak into place.

As she ran a hand over her mother’s brooches, fear lanced through her. All of William’s men would be converging in the great hall for supper. Dare she join them? Would she, English-born but Norman-blooded, be welcomed to walk among the men who had shaped the fate of her country? She quailed at the idea. Her bravado with Alex was just that, and Isabel was afraid it would not stand up to an entire room of Norman men, let alone the very presence of William.

Alex knocked on her door once and then walked in. Isabel clutched a hand to her chest and urged her heartbeat to slow when she realized who her guest was. Averill hovered in the corner of the room, her attempts at unpacking halted.

Being with Alex again brought back too many memories. Before Isabel could address him, he spoke. “My lady, I would escort you to the evening meal.”

Hesitating for only an instant, Isabel nodded. “I will be but a moment.” She walked toward her bed and reached for her seax and sword, which she had not yet had the chance to don.

“You will not need those.” Alex’s voice interrupted her actions. “I do not want you to attract any more attention than necessary.”

“I understand.” Suppressing a frown, Isabel let her hand linger on the hilt of her sword briefly before following him into the hall. She felt naked and vulnerable without her weapons, and her proximity to Alex only intensified her apprehension. She wanted to pretend she did not need him to navigate William’s inner circle, but she could not afford to ignore him, not when the stakes were so high.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I hope your room is suitable.”

“Yes. It is.” It seemed an inadequate, even ungracious answer, but she let the silence between them fall.

“I am sharing a room with some of the other knights down the hall from you if you have need of me.”

“And Captain Thomas and the others?” Isabel asked.

“They were forced to find lodgings in town. I had a hard enough time securing our rooms.”

“I see.”

They came to a short flight of stairs, and after they descended, Isabel recognized the raucous laughter and shouts for more meat and ale—unmistakable sounds of a feast already in progress.

Alex placed her hand on his arm, and she let him. He watched her for a moment. “Isabel, there is nothing to be afraid of.”

She wanted to deny it. She faced him, a tart reply at the ready, but then thought better of it. “You are not the one walking into the lion’s den.”

Alex chuckled softly. “No one will bother you. Not if you are with me,” he said with a wink. He stopped, his face suddenly serious. He turned Isabel toward him, his hands heavy on her shoulders. “It would be wise to stay by my side or with my men while we are in London. I do not want you to have any difficulties with the soldiers.”

The intensity of his gaze fooled her into thinking he would kiss here right there and then. She knew she should say something, push him away… She should do any number of things to let him know he had no hold over her. Not after he had lied to her.

Before Isabel could react, Alex took her arm again and they walked into the hall together. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized William was not in attendance. They wound their way around the many tables filled with reveling Normans. There were only a few women who were not servants scattered around the hall, probably sisters and daughters of English nobles seeking clemency. Cringing at all the attention she was getting, Isabel realized she was no better.

Alex finally led her to one of the upper tables where Hugh waited for them. Isabel was surprised at how glad she was to see Alex’s taciturn shield bearer. He was a veritable prince among the drunken unknowns who filled the room.

Hugh and Alex sat on either side of her, a comforting buffer between her and the rest of the main hall. She ate her meal in relative peace and let conversation wash over her. She learned where Hugh, Captain Thomas and the rest of the men were staying. Alex also told her and Hugh his meeting with William would be in four days’ time. In the interim, Alex would have to attend various meetings and councils.

Four days. An eternity. The sooner she met with the new king, the sooner they could return to Ashdown. What if the Welsh attacked again while she was stuck in London? But she was the one who had delayed the journey, was she not? If anything happened in Ashdown while they were away, the blame would lie with her.

As the meal continued, Isabel watched the people around the room, all unmistakably Norman, unmistakably male. She watched them eat, laugh and drink. A few gazes lingered on her but most attendees were indifferent to her scrutiny. She could not help but compare the other Normans to Alex. Even in a room full of men, she was still aware of him and his every action. He sat so close to her, the heat of his body sank through the fabric of her dress to her skin. But he never touched her except when they both reached for the wine cup they shared at the same time. Seeing her start, he pulled back and let her drink first.

Even though it was difficult to make sense of the man who would soon be her husband, she could not deny Alex’s quality. His was the first face she turned to when she entered a room. His voice stood out even when he was among other boisterous men. His image remained ingrained in her mind whenever she closed her eyes.

He had invaded her life in so many ways.

At one point Alex must have felt her eyes on him. He leaned toward her. “Is something wrong?”

She hastily looked away from him. “I do not think so.”

16

“Oh, my lady, look at this one.” Averill held out a bolt of silk just as fine as the last four she had pointed to.

It mattered not Norman soldiers patrolled the streets, the girl was making the most of her first visit to London. She gaped with childlike wonder at the street vendors and merchants, where ready coin, not country of origin, was the only currency.

“Yes, yes. Very nice.” Isabel craned her neck to see where the men had gotten to in the crowd. She spotted Captain Thomas’s gray head and the downturn of Hugh’s mouth a few stalls ahead. “Come along,” she said to Averill. She pretended not to see the girl’s pout reflected on the silk merchant’s face as she pushed forward through the crush of bodies.

The smell of freshly baked bread warred with tallow and smoke. Always smoke.

“Need you a good luck potion, miss?”

“Fresh meat pies. Piping hot.”

“Old Mildred’s remedies will cure all that ails you.”

Isabel ignored the shouts and kept moving. Ahead, Captain Thomas conversed with another Englishman while Hugh stood off to the side, tapping his foot.

Alex let her borrow Hugh and Captain Thomas for the day to see if they could locate any of her father’s men. She was not content to simply wait in her room and idle away her time behind the still-incomplete walls of William’s castle. But even flanked by men and joined by Averill, she felt like she had a target on her back, earning looks both English and Norman as she walked the streets.

Hugh straightened, but his scowl deepened when he saw her and Averill approach. “What did I say about wandering off?”

There was no pleasing the man this day. Isabel did not answer and turned to Captain Thomas, who had finished his conversation. “Any tidings?”

“No, my lady.”

She sighed. Despite their inquiries, no one had been able to confirm Julien’s death, though they learned he had fought in a contingent ripped apart by the Norman cavalry. The gruesome tales, when pieced together with bits she overheard from Alex and his men, added to her disappointment the conquest had been so brutal. They had not found any more Dumont men, but she did not expect them to stay in London if they avoided injury in battle and evaded capture. Perhaps the ones who were still alive would make it back to Ashdown undetected, a small chance that.

Sunset was not far away and although she was certain Averill would not turn down the chance to see more of the town, exhaustion was starting to creep across the serving girl’s face. It had been a long day for all of them.

She met Captain Thomas’s gaze. “We should head back.”

Without a word, Hugh set off.

“What troubles him?” Averill asked as she struggled to keep up.

“Hugh does not like playing nurse, I expect,” Isabel said.

Captain Thomas’s lips curved upward, but he did not say anything as they retraced their steps.

When they neared William’s fortress, Isabel spied a young Englishwoman pleading with two Norman soldiers in full mail stationed in front of the gates.

“My boy. Please, have you seen my boy?” she asked in poorly-phrased French. She could not have been much older than Isabel. The Normans sneered at her and shook their heads, exuding an air of self-importance that could only result from the security and superiority they felt on conquered soil.

“Please, I beg you.” The woman grabbed the arm of the nearest soldier, a tall man with a healing cut along his cheek, but he shoved her away. She wept as she approached them again. He backhanded her across the face before she had a chance to speak.

She collapsed on the ground.

“I told you we have not set eyes on your spawn.” The soldier looked to his partner, a stout man with a round face, and laughed cruelly. “But if you want a babe so badly, that can be arranged.”

How dare they! Isabel quickened her steps. She was not blind to the tension between the townspeople and the Norman soldiers, but this was simply too much.

Hugh caught the sleeve of her dress. “Not this time.”

“You would let them attack a defenseless woman?”

“If she’s making a nuisance of herself, they have the right to discipline her.”

She shook him off. “Then you are a greater fool than I thought, Hugh de Roche.”

Ignoring his protests, she hurried over and helped the woman off the ground. Isabel faced the two Norman soldiers. “What is the problem?”

The woman fell to her knees, clutching Isabel’s skirt. “Oh, my lady, please. My boy has run off. I cannot find him anywhere,” she said between sobs.

“And why have you troubled William’s men with this?” she asked the woman, though her gaze did not leave the soldiers’ faces. Captain Thomas came up next to her, offering silent support. Averill stood wringing her hands next to Hugh, who made no move to intervene.

“Because my son fancies the horses, my lady. He’s not yet six and the beasts are all he can talk…talk about.” The woman gulped out the words, her face streaked with dust and tears.

“And you think he tried to get into William’s stables?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Isabel translated the woman’s words into French. Enamored by William and his men on their chargers as they paraded the streets of London, the boy probably snuck past the gates when no one was looking or dashed through the servants’ entrance. And his mother, being English, would not be allowed past to search for him.

She looked to Captain Thomas and Hugh. Alex’s shield bearer held up his hands. “Fine. We’ll search for the brat.” The shorter of the two soldiers admitted them into the bailey. She hoped the boy was easily found for she had no desire to prolong her standoff with William’s men.

Isabel encouraged the woman to stand. She should not have to grovel any more today. A purpling bruise had already bloomed across her cheek.

She turned to the soldiers. “Look what you have done.” She pointed to the woman’s face. “Is that how you treat a woman asking for your help?”