The Protector (20 page)

After the meal Gregory excused himself from their company as they all moved their chairs to the fire. Again Anna managed to sit next to Morvan, but in a chair angled toward David, who explained conditions in England.

“Almost a quarter have died in London, and while the worst is over, there are still deaths every day. The cost of everything is bound to rise, and trade ceased last summer and has not resumed. If our King has any ideas of financing another war, I hope that he has magicians at court to conjure up the money.”

“Do you go into the city?” Anna asked.

“Only when I have to, and I do not let my servants or apprentices come with me. The city government is ineffective, and crime has increased.”

“I would very much like to visit London, if only for a few hours. I haven't seen much of cities.”

“You must not, Anna,” Morvan said. “Christiana described the conditions to us, and now David says that it isn't safe.”

It turned out that Morvan expected no response, for, having announced his will, he now turned the conversation away from the topic. “Is there word that the King is planning another campaign?”

“The treaty with France runs for some years, but Edward has given no indication that he is relinquishing his claims to the French crown.”

“Enough of plagues and politics,” Christiana said. “David, Anna goes to the court at Windsor. I have told Morvan that she can use our house there. I would like to go with her and stay a short while. It has been a long winter, and I would like to see my friends.”

“I should go as well,” David said. “If the court is returning, there is business to be done. But I cannot leave for two days. Can you wait and go to Windsor three days hence, my lady?”

“Aye. I have quartered some horses at a market north of the city. Perhaps I can sell them while we wait.”

“Charles of Blois will probably be with the King,” Christiana said. “High-ranking prisoners usually move with the court. Have you ever seen him?”

Anna had never met the French husband who claimed Brittany's ducal crown through his marriage to Jeanne de Penthièvre. His capture by the English had done little to stop the civil war. His wife continued to organize the fight for their cause.

“Some of your people believe that he is a saint,” David said. “He wears sackcloth and rough ropes next to his skin, and does not bathe overmuch. He prays constantly, I am told.”

“He is a French butcher. He murdered hundreds at Nantes after it fell. There is nothing saintly about such a man, and if he claims to be meting God's justice, he blasphemes. I hope that I do not see him,” Anna said heatedly.

“Well, he hardly attends many feasts, being so ascetic,” David said. “I doubt that you will meet.”

“I do not think that I will go to such festivities either. I do not go to the court for pleasure.”

“You have not taken the veil yet, my lady. Why not enjoy yourself if the occasion arises. Even bishops do so.”

How could she explain that not long ago she would have attended such functions with curiosity, but that now she would feel conspicuous, and the object of unkind curiosity herself. A person could stare down just so many raised eyebrows.

She suddenly was furious with herself for feeling this
way. It was as if she no longer knew herself at all, or that she no longer liked what she knew.

She decided that she had done her duty as a guest. Claiming fatigue from the journey, she retired to her chamber.

She had almost entered when she heard a step on the stairs. Morvan's tall form rose into the passageway.

Before she could escape, he took the candle from her hand and pulled her into the solar.

Morvan lit more candles in the solar and then turned to her. She gazed past him, through him. It chilled him to realize how quickly she had created this strangeness between them.

“What troubles you, Anna?”

“Nothing troubles me. I wanted some time alone. I have always liked being alone.”

“I do not speak just of this evening, but of the last days. You have not spoken. After what we have shared, it is not—”

“Not natural?”

“Not what I expected. Are you feeling guilt or embarrassment?”

“Embarrassment. Aye, some of that.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You need feel no shyness with me.”

She pulled her hand away. “Mostly, however, I am thinking that I need to remember who I am and where I am going.”

“Where you are going I cannot change, but who you are includes what passed between us. Even if you regret how far things went that night, do you truly want to build a wall of ice between us now?”

She watched a spot in the chamber ten feet away. She concentrated on a void that did not contain him.

“That night,” she repeated, and her expression became hard and immobile.

“Anna, is that what this is about? Are you sorry that you offered yourself to me?”

“Aye, I am sorry. I was weak and foolish and forgot why I am here and where I belong. Worse, I forgot the lessons that you yourself have given me about men. Now, I would not speak of this again. I find myself impatient for this interlude in my life to end, and would return to Saint Meen tomorrow if I could. When we get to Windsor, I ask that you do what you can to help me meet your King as soon as possible.”

As she left she glanced back over her shoulder. Her level look met his own gaze directly. It wasn't much, but he suspected that it was all that he would get for a long while.

T
HEY ARRIVED IN WINDSOR
three days later. Anna rode one of Christiana's horses, since she had sold all of hers. They had fetched good prices, and she had arranged to buy grain through David. She drew some contentment from knowing that this journey would at least be good for her estate's economy.

The house in Windsor was a typical craftsman's home. The first level did not hold a shop but instead had been converted to living space. David had purchased the building next door, and that now served as the quarters of his mercer's business.

Two tiny bedchambers filled the second level, along with a solar, and Christiana gave Anna one. The servants and apprentices found cots and pallets in the kitchen and Gregory was sent to the attic above the shop. Morvan planned to find hospitality with one of his
court friends, and he left almost immediately upon arrival to do so. A messenger came later to tell Christiana that he would stay with William Montague, the young Earl of Salisbury.

The next morning he arrived early to help Anna write a letter requesting an audience with the King, and took it himself to the castle on the hill overlooking the river. Until she received a summons from the King, she just had to wait.

Christiana dragged her along on visits to the princesses and other friends. Although Anna saw nothing of Morvan for several days, she heard about him. He was a main topic of conversation for the bored courtiers.

Especially among the women.

Everyone expressed interest in his adventures, and relief that he had survived the plague.

Especially the women.

They all seemed very happy to have him with them again.

Especially the women.

Aye, any number of ladies were very excited that Morvan Fitzwaryn was back at court.

Morvan dismounted his horse in front of a prosperous house. An old servant opened the door.

“Good day, Meg. Is your lady here?”

“Aye, she be home. You don't waste much time, Sir Morvan. The last lord be barely cold.”

“I never knew the last lord, Meg. I left two husbands ago, so if I don't pay the proper respects I may be forgiven.”

“Well, I'll tell her you're here, but there may be a wait. She be abed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Prostrate with grief, I assume.”

“She is alone, if that is what you are asking. Go in the hall and I'll have some wine sent. She will be glad to know you are here. She knows that you are back.”

He knew the house well, and went to the hall. When the wine came he took a cup to a back window that looked out over a garden. The implications of Meg's words troubled him. He realized that he was a bit sorry to hear that Elizabeth was in bed alone.

He had to come. It would be insulting not to and he did want to see her. But a low buzz of speculation had already begun about whether he would resume his affair with her now that she was free.

He did not think it likely that he would, although he had strong affection for her still. She had been the closest he had ever come to loving. He had wondered at the time if he was in love with her, but had known that the wondering itself meant that he was not.

Still, he might have basked in her warmth again while she sought her next husband, as he had when he was a young knight. Except that he was not so young now, and it had not been Elizabeth who crowded his thoughts these last few days as he renewed old friendships.

A sound made him turn, but it was not Elizabeth behind him. Instead a young man, no more than twenty years old, entered the room.

He was striking-looking, tall, proud, and lean, with the gold spurs of knighthood no doubt very new on his heels. His hair was of an unusual color, dark brown with hints of red. His brooding eyes and dark lashes contrasted with the pale tone of his skin. A beautiful knight. Elizabeth liked them young and beautiful.

“You must be Morvan. She has been waiting for you.” Morvan heard a note of disapproval. “My name is Ian. I am Elizabeth's kinsman. Through marriage.”

“It is kind of you to attend on her in her time of grief. Elizabeth and I are old friends, and I am glad to meet one of her kinsmen. Through marriage.”

“I know all about your friendship. I have been hearing about nothing else at court for days.” Ian stood as if he expected some sort of challenge. He reeked of arrogance and pride.

“Ah, well, that was long ago.”

Ian was about to reply when, from the doorway, there came a rustle of satin and a scent of roses and a glimmering, ethereal vision.

She was still beautiful. Her hair, white since her middle twenties, rose coiled and braided beneath the silver-flecked veil. Silver jewelry and a white gown completed the effect. Her still youthful face matched a neat little body that never had, and never would, bear the effects of pregnancy. As Morvan walked toward her he knew, however, that if he took up with her again her beauty would have little to do with it. They had moved beyond that years ago. He bent down and gave her an affectionate kiss, and felt the eyes of Ian boring into his back.

Several hours later Morvan escorted Elizabeth into a hall, in which a feast hosted by Princess Isabella was being held. He and Elizabeth had talked for hours, and she then had asked him to bring her here. He really could not refuse, though he knew that her presence beside him would only encourage the gossip.

Ian arrived and was standing close by when Christiana appeared in the doorway. “Your sister, isn't it?” Ian asked, his eyes appraising Christiana in a way Morvan didn't like. He had always resented men's looking at his sister in that way.

And then, behind Christiana, another woman appeared
tall and blond with hair brushed into thick flowing waves around her lovely face. A few rebellious curls dangled along her cheeks. She wore a plain blue gown made by Catherine for the journey, and it fit her better than the brown convent robes. Her simple dress and natural appearance contrasted with the gaudy colors and jewels of the other women in the hall. She looked fresh as spring and innocent as a country maid. Morvan hadn't seen her in days, and his heart lurched.

“Interesting,” Ian said. Morvan looked over to find those brooding eyes studying him. Ian turned his attention back to the doorway. “Stunning, isn't she? The blond. I haven't seen her before. Do you know who she is?”

“I know who she is.” She
was
stunning. All eyes turned to her, and the male eyes lingered. A master had been at work on her appearance, and Morvan guessed who it was. He would kill David. She appeared oblivious to the reactions she inspired, and in a crowd of flirting, preening women that only increased her appeal.

Christiana led the way through the crowd. As they passed nearby, Anna saw him. Her gaze briefly fell to where Elizabeth rested her hand on his arm. She glanced at Elizabeth, put on her face of cool reserve, and looked away.

Christiana found places for them on benches against a wall. Two women friends closed in and the four ladies became involved in conversation.

“Is she the one from Brittany? The heiress who came with you?”

Damn the court gossips. “Aye. She is convent-bound, Ian. And you should know that I still protect her.”

Ian smiled. It was a smile, Morvan knew, that women
would find devastating. Hell. This was like watching himself at twenty size up his prey. A convent-bound Anna wouldn't have stood a chance.

“Dedicated to God? Well, one never knows. And you can keep your sword sheathed. I have no intention of hurting the girl.”

Morvan allowed himself to be drawn into Elizabeth's conversation, but he kept glancing at Anna. A series of young men approached her, but her stiff politeness discouraged them. It was Ian he worried about. The young knight worked his way through the crowd, circling to the wall, chatting as he went, advancing to where the pure flower sat.