A Royal Marriage (18 page)

“The rumor in Bern is that our father’s death was not an accident.”

“Rab the Raider ran him through with his sword,” John admitted. “I saw it with my own eyes, but wasn’t quick enough to prevent it.”

“Father was betrayed to the Raider.”

“Somehow Rab was told of our pending visit,” John admitted with a sigh. “It was no secret. It was an annual tradition.”

But Luke’s insistence only grew stronger. “The villagers claim that our father was thrust into the confrontation with Rab, that he could have escaped much sooner, but instead was compelled to a deathtrap disguised as a negotiating table.”

“What do you mean?” John had only been observing his father from a distance that day. He’d been there to learn the art of wise ruling, not to participate in it. He hadn’t been privy to his father’s discussions.

“Father knew better than to confront a man with such a violent reputation. He had no reason to negotiate with Rab. Urias told him to do it.”

“Urias pulled me from battle that day.” John shook his head. “He saved my life.”

“He pulled you out of there before you could overthrow Rab again. The villagers of Bern speak of the zeal with which you fought that day. Urias didn’t save your life. He stole the village out from under you and gave it to our father’s murderer.”

John listened to the words with regret. He’d long trusted the man, if only on the grounds that his father had trusted him. Had that trust led to his father’s murder? “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, but it fits, doesn’t it?”

“Gisela said something about Urias—he sent Elisabette on the crazy journey that got her caught this morning by Rab the Raider.” John realized the implications aloud. “And now I’ve sent the women back to Urias, not knowing that he cannot be trusted.”

“Go to them,” Luke insisted. “Leave me here under guard. I’ll return to Sardis once I am well enough to travel. You cannot leave the women to face Urias alone. They don’t know the evil treachery he’s capable of.”

Reluctant as John was to leave his injured brother’s side, he knew Luke spoke the truth. “You must come as soon as you are able. I fear we’ve only upset Rab further. Those Illyrian soldiers do not follow him by accident. His father has granted them to him. King Garren uses his son’s desire for approval to compel Rab to do his dirty work, then Garren reaps the benefits. If Rab returns asking for more soldiers, King Garren may well send his entire army.”

“Especially if Rab reports that we’re withholding Warrick’s rightful betrothed.”

John cringed. “You’re precisely right. And yet, how can I give her up to his household, knowing of it what I do now?”

“You can never give her up.” Luke’s words held no accusation. Instead, he spoke with respect and a note of authority, as if he’d defend John’s right to have the princess to himself.

Surprised, John met his brother’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

A smile bent Luke’s weary face. “You were willing to hand yourself over to our father’s murderer in order to save the emperor’s daughter. You love her more than you care for yourself. How could you ever hand her over to another?”

John realized his brother was unaware of the greater political situation Gisela had explained to him. And there wasn’t nearly time for John to explain the threat to the Christian church. “Nonetheless, I may have no choice but to give her up.”

“You would die before you would see that happen.”

John hung his head and measured his words. When he spoke, his voice held raw emotion. “All the more reason why you must recover, brother. If I die, you will be king in my stead.” He shook off his somber tone. “Now I must hurry if I am to catch up to the women in time to be of any help to them. Rest well and stay safe. It is your duty as a prince of Lydia.”

* * *

To John’s relief, he and the small band who returned with him reached Castlehead shortly after Gisela and Elisabette. Not only had Urias not had time to act, he wasn’t even around.

“Urias took offense that Gisela put Castlehead under military command,” Eliab explained as he met King John at the gate. “He left with Hilda. I haven’t heard from him. I can’t say where he went.”

“The members of his extended family are all in Sardis, aren’t they?” John figured the courtier would likely stay with them.

“On his father’s side, yes. They’re all noblemen of standing for many generations back. But his mother’s extended family all hail from the countryside.” Eliab took John’s horse by the reins and led the animal toward the stable.

John’s ears perked up. “Where? Along the peninsula or on the mainland?”

“Beyond the mainland. Somewhere near the Mursia River, I believe.”

“Beyond the Illyrian border?”

“I suppose so, since the Mursia runs through Illyrian land.” Eliab shrugged. “Well, if he’s gone that far there’s no sending for him.”

“Yes.” John dismissed the courtier to see his horse to a stable hand. He hadn’t realized Urias had family inside the Illyrian border. It seemed Urias had kept that detail from him deliberately.

* * *

Gisela heard the watchman announce the king’s arrival, but she couldn’t leave her chamber just yet. Elisabette had sent her attendants. Gisela had soaked in a hot bath, and the women were still braiding up her damp hair. The moment they were finished, she hurried to dress and then scrambled off in the direction of the king’s chambers.

“I’m sorry, he cannot see you now. He’s still dressing after his bath.” The chamberlain began to shut the door of the outer receiving room.

“Is that Princess Gisela?” John’s voice carried through from the cavernous rooms beyond.

“Yes!” Gisela answered, earning herself a scowl from the chamberlain, who hadn’t been so quick to answer. “Shall I come back later?”

Sounds of a scuffle were nearly drowned out as John called to her, “No, please stay. I’ll be right there.”

“Your Majesty!” The chamberlain rushed off to provide whatever sort of help he was supposed to be providing.

“Just a moment!” the king called, then muttered, “Really, it’s faster if I do it myself.” He called out again, “Please come in, Gisela. There’s a waiting room—” His words gave way to a muffled argument about shirts.

Gisela stepped into the waiting room. She was eager to see John but feared her intrusion had inconvenienced him. “I can come back later if—”

“Please stay.” John skidded into the room on bare feet, pulling a habergeon over his undershirt as he entered.

The chamberlain chased him with a comb. “Sire, I must insist. You are unpresentable. I must comb your hair.”

John took the comb. “I can handle my grooming from here. Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

The chamberlain looked relieved to leave, though he cast John’s bare feet a pointedly disapproving look as he left.

The king hurriedly plowed the comb through his dark hair. “Are you offended by my unpresentability?”

“Far from it.” She looked up at him, wanting so much to be in his arms, yet mindful of her betrothal to Warrick. A shudder rippled through her as she recalled how close she’d come to losing John to Rab the Raider that morning. It was enough to know they’d both survived—that she could be in his presence, if not in his embrace.

“Are you all right?” He finished combing.

“I feared I might lose you. When Rab asked you to put down your sword—” she suppressed another shudder, hugging herself tightly “—isn’t that just what he did before killing your father?”

“It’s true. I was nearly certain he would try the same with me.”

“You were too quick for him.”

“I would hardly attribute our success to my skill. Your words made all the difference. If you hadn’t been there...” He shook his head. “You were right, Gisela, and I was wrong to say you were wrong.”

She laughed at him. “Whatever are you mumbling about?”

“You were right to send Boden for your father. You were right not to go to your betrothed.” He reached for her, then lowered his arms as though doing so required great effort. “I tremble at the thought that you might have been in his castle tonight instead of mine.”

“Nonetheless, Warrick is to be my husband,” Gisela reminded him with regret. “You know the reasons why our arrangement cannot be ended. In light of the circumstances that were revealed to us this morning, it is all the more necessary that Rome have a representative in Illyria.”

“I agree that your father should have an emissary in Illyria. But given the violence that has been visited upon us, I am convinced that presence must be military in nature.” He took half a step closer to her. If he reached out his arms he could touch her, but he kept his hands at his sides. “I cannot give you up to them. You are far too precious to me, and they are far too violent.”

“But what would you do, John?” She looked at him imploringly. “Any intervention from my father is at best weeks away. Garren’s men have already made significant incursions into Lydia. The longer we wait, the greater the risk to your land and your people. Something must be done now, and we are the only ones who can do it.”

“You are right,” John admitted softly. “The risks are great. I cannot let you face them.”

He was interrupted by the chamberlain at the door. “The Princess Elisabette, sire.”

* * *

John turned to see his sister looking meekly past the chamberlain. “Yes, come in.”

The chamberlain shuffled away with a disdainful sigh in the direction of John’s bare feet.

Elisabette bowed as she approached him. “I understand that my actions endangered many lives. For that I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry that your actions endangered lives,” John parsed, “but not sorry for the actions themselves.” He knew his sister well. “Pray tell me what was so important that you felt you had no choice but to risk your life and the safety of the kingdom for it?”

“John,” Gisela whispered with a note of caution in her voice. “Perhaps it would be best—”

But Elisabette was already answering. “The men announced that you were going to exact your vengeance on my love!”

“Your love? Elisabette, you’re, you’re—” he sputtered, wanting to remind her that she was only a child, not nearly old enough to have a love, let alone race on horseback through the night to save him. Whatever could his sister be talking about?

“John!” A note of pleading caution had entered Gisela’s voice.

It occurred to him that Elisabette was nearly as old as Gisela. She wasn’t a child any longer. Could she be in love? His thoughts swirled even as Gisela tugged on his arm. “Who is this love of yours?”

Elisabette blinked up at him with stars in her eyes. “Prince Warrick, son of Garren. We pledged our love to one another years ago.”

“Warrick?” John recalled Captain Gregory encouraging him to exact vengeance against their enemy.

At the same time, his sister’s declaration made little sense. “But he’s to marry Gisela.”

Chapter Fifteen

T
he instant the words left his mouth, Gisela stopped tugging on his arm, and King John realized why she’d been trying to quiet him.

Elisabette looked at her rival with betrayal and anger warring across her face. “You!
Warrick
is your prince? You knew of my love for him, yet you sent my brother to defeat him?”

John tried to keep Gisela behind him, fearing that his little sister might fly at the princess like an angry cat and tear her apart with her fingernails. “Elisabette, no! She did not send me!”

But even as he tried to keep Gisela guarded, the Frankish princess seemed intent on facing his sister. “Elisabette, listen! Rab the Raider is Warrick’s half brother! He held his blade to your throat this very morning. How can you say you love Warrick still?”

“Warrick despises the Raider!” Elisabette defended her love with zeal. “He has apologized a thousand times over to me for any connection to the man who killed our father. Yet you would punish him for a crime that was not his? He cannot help who his brother is!”

John had to shout to be heard above his sister. “Listen! Gisela will not marry him. I will not let that happen!”

“Because you will kill him!” Elisabette shouted.

“No!” John thought quickly. “If Warrick has apologized for his half brother’s crimes, then he may be our only ally in his father’s household. I will not kill him, not if he can negotiate peace between our kingdoms.”

“You will not kill him?” Elisabette latched onto the words. “Promise me you will let him live!”

“If he can negotiate peace—”

“Whether he can or not, promise me you will not kill my love.”

John closed his eyes for a moment. Could he make such a promise? Did he have a choice? “I promise. I will not kill him.”

The fury finally left Elisabette’s eyes. She turned to Gisela. “Will you promise not to marry him?”

“I do not love him. I have never loved him, and I never meant to mislead you.” Gisela seemed to choose her words carefully, knowing full well the delicate political nature of the agreement. “When you confessed to me that you loved my betrothed, I did not know how to admit to you that I am promised to him.” Gisela stepped slowly out from behind John.

“Let us make a trade then,” Elisabette proposed. “Warrick loves me. He would take me over you.”

John wanted to hope that his sister’s plan could be fulfilled, but he knew of the many entanglements that could so easily bring them all down. “We can
try,
Elisabette, but the situation is politically complicated. Warrick agreed to the marriage contract with Gisela through her father.”

“No,” Elisabette choked out, “he would never do such a thing. He loves
me.
He would never agree to marry another.”

“When did you last hear from him?” John asked.

“Not for months. He sent me a message—”

“Do you still have it?”

“I have them all.”

“May I see them?”

Elisabette blushed furiously. “They are private in nature.”

“Please?” John pleaded. He didn’t want to invade his sister’s privacy, but given that Urias had long been deceiving him, John feared another deception. Were Warrick’s feelings for Elisabette sincere? Or was he simply leading her on to learn what he could about Lydia? While John didn’t want to think that any man would hurt his little sister, such a deception certainly seemed possible, given that Warrick had agreed to the engagement with Gisela. Why else would he agree to marry another if he sincerely loved Elisabette?

John implored, “I need to understand everything I can about this situation. Warrick’s messages may give a clue to the situation in his father’s household. We need to know what’s going on if we expect to defend Lydia.”

Gisela placed a gentle hand on Elisabette’s shoulder. “I want only your happiness, Elisabette. Prove to us that he has no intention of attacking Lydia. Can you help us?”

Elisabette watched them both warily, but finally relented. “I’ll get you the messages.” She took a few steps toward the door, then turned. “You mustn’t tease me about the contents. Warrick’s words were meant only for me.”

John blushed to think what he might soon be reading. “I would never tease you about love, Elisabette. It is far too precious.”

* * *

Gisela read the notes over John’s shoulder. Elisabette had been too embarrassed to stay, and Gisela understood why.

“Warrick’s feelings for your sister seem emphatically sincere,” she noted.

“I shudder to think this went on without my knowledge.” John moved on to the next note. “Just as I shudder to think he would feel this way toward my sister and still allow himself to become betrothed to you.”

Finally he laid down the pile of parchment and sighed. “There is nothing here to hint of military maneuvers. The most recent message was sent five months ago and only speaks of how he pines for her. There’s a faint insinuation that he intends for them to someday marry, but he may well have been lying. You say your agreement with Warrick was years in the making?”

“I was first told of it over two years ago and understood that my father had mulled the invitation for some time before asking whether I would entertain the offer.”

“The Illyrians initiated the contract, then?”

“Indeed.”

“But Warrick’s messages to my sister date back long before my father’s death. Why would Warrick agree to marry you if he was so enamored with my sister?” John spun around on his bench and leaned back against the table.

“I met Warrick only twice. We never spoke privately. He seemed...detached, but not disinterested. He certainly didn’t act as though he was being compelled against his will.”

“Yet he did not behave as though he was amorous for you?”

Blushing, Gisela confessed, “You have behaved more amorously toward me whilst trying
not
to, than he did when we were closest.”

“I wonder...”

“What?”

“Urias is missing. Luke heard rumors in Bern that Urias betrayed my father at the battle of Bern—that I’d have kept the village four years ago if Urias hadn’t pulled me away when he did.”

“I thought you claimed he saved your life?”

“
He
claimed he saved my life,” John corrected. “My injury wasn’t fatal. I could have kept fighting, but he insisted we were outnumbered, then blamed my father for not falling back more quickly in the first place. Regrettably, I’ve believed him these long years.”

“Urias gave Elisabette a horse and sent her toward the battle.”

“You’d noted that. And I’ve just learned he has relatives across the Illyrian border.”

“So he’s been siding with them all this time?”

“I fear so. But if Warrick has been sending messages to Bette, I can’t help wondering if Urias received his instructions in a similar manner.”

Gisela nearly leaped off the bench. “Do you suppose he might have left any notes behind in his haste to flee?”

John rose after her. “We must search diligently. The man has deceived me long enough. It is time I learned the truth.”

If there was truth to be found anywhere in the castle, John did not find it in Urias’s room. But it wasn’t for lack of looking. To his frustration, not even Eliab was of much help.

“You know, I never trusted Urias. I only tried to get along with him out of respect for your late father,” Eliab confessed with such regret on his face that John begrudgingly believed him.

John spent the next three days reorganizing his men and exchanging messages with Luke, while he prayed for clarity and God’s help.

On Tuesday, Hilda arrived alone, hungry and exhausted and quite worse off for wear. Given the woman’s affection for Urias, John immediately feared a trap. But Hilda handed him a pouch full of parchment as Gisela led the maid to the kitchen.

John pored over the notes with Gisela while the cooks saw to Hilda’s appetite.

The notes were out of order, but each one hinted at some element of a conspiracy between Urias and the Illyrians. John pressed Hilda to tell how she’d come by them.

“Urias and I left for his homeland. He told me he wanted to present me to his family. I thought it odd, him leaving the castle at this time, but he spoke of marriage. I was such a fool!” Hilda wept onto her plate a few moments more before Gisela coaxed her into saying more.

“He kept that pouch close every moment. It made me curious. So when he went to the river to bathe and left it behind, of course I looked in the pouch. When he returned and caught me looking, he accused me of spying on him!” Hilda choked up.

Gisela handed her a cup.

She drank and sputtered the rest of her tale. “He said ’twas true! He never loved me, only made me think he did to gain access to Her Highness.” Hilda pouted sadly as she looked to her mistress. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I never suspected he was insincere.”

“All is forgiven, Hilda. I’m sorry you’ve had such a horrible experience. You did well to bring us the messages. How did you ever get the notes away from him?”

“He drew his sword as though to kill me. I had no choice but to knock him in the head with a rock and run him through with his own sword.” She sobbed into her hands.

“You left him dead?” John confirmed, knowing the importance of being sure.

“Certainly.”

John and Gisela left Hilda to the comfort of her lunch and carried the messages to the privacy of the rookery to examine them further. Fledge and her new mate peered over his shoulders as though eager to help.

“You’re not an Illyrian spy, are you?” John directed his question at the new bird with a wry smile, as though newly wary of everyone he’d ever trusted.

The bird only cocked his head and looked at him as though he was insulted by the king’s suggestion.

“Fine, then, you can stay.” John spread out a note where a bright sunbeam splashed against the wide ledge of the tower parapets.

Gisela didn’t understand all the Illyrian words, so he did his best to translate for her. Unfortunately, unlike the notes between Warrick and Elisabette, the messages weren’t dated. John had some difficulty discerning whether the events portrayed therein were long past or pending.

But one thing was perfectly clear: Urias had long been plotting against the Lydian crown, first under the rule of John’s father, King Theodoric, and for the past few years, right up to the moment Hilda had run him through. “All of Lydia owes Hilda a debt of gratitude.”

“The poor thing.” Gisela shook her head sadly. “She’s heartbroken.”

It wasn’t until they’d read through all the messages that John and Gisela were able to piece together the full picture.

“It seems Garren has long coveted the Lydian coastline, and has even gone so far as to call us fools for not making better use of it. He would build docks and wharfs and create a commercial metropolis.”

“Is that even possible given the rocky shoreline?”

“It would be a risky endeavor, and an expensive one. I’ve never thought it desirable, given that it would expose Lydia to all manner of traffic and end our peaceful existence. I would rather rule a little-known nation in peace than a polestar of wealth where crime and greed run rampant.” He shook his head. “Garren is a fool.”

“On many levels,” Gisela agreed. “But he is certainly cunning. When Rab arrived from the north and claimed to be his son, Garren shrewdly hatched a scheme that would procure the Lydian coastline for him, or rid him of an unwanted son, or both. By commissioning Rab to take Lydia in exchange for recognition as his own son, Garren placed himself in a most advantageous spot.”

“Of course. If Rab failed, Garren could claim no connection to him. If Rab succeeded, Garren got what he wanted, and at little cost to himself.” John hated to think that his neighbors had been plotting against him for so long. “That’s why Illyrian soldiers have been answering to Rab. Garren sent them to do his bidding.”

“No doubt, if questioned, he would deny the connection and claim the men were rebels banding together to give him a bad name.”

“That is precisely what he has claimed, though he occupies Bern.” John rubbed his temples as the depth of Urias’s betrayals sank in. “Urias conspired with them at his mother’s urging. She wanted a place in Garren’s court. Urias was promised to be regent of this area once the Illyrians gained control.”

“None of the messages give any indication that Urias or even Garren realized that Warrick was in love with your sister.”

John relished the insight her words provided. “They may not have known. I gather from Warrick’s messages that he was no more eager to confess his love to his family than Elisabette was to confess it to me.”

“Still—” Gisela shivered uneasily “—it doesn’t explain what their intentions were with me. I wonder...” She shuffled through the bits of parchment until she found the pieces she was looking for. “When do you suppose this message came? It suggests there is a greater plan, one more certain to unseat you from your throne.”

“But how would they have used you to gain control of Lydia? They couldn’t have known you would land here first. Your captain was under orders to take you directly to Warrick. He’d have done so, had the Saracens not attacked you first.”

“The Illyrians could not have predicted that. Have there ever been dealings between the Saracens and the Illyrians?”

“The Illyrians fear the Saracens as much as we do. The pirates are far too foreign for even the Illyrians to plot with them.”

“And yet, Warrick gave Elisabette no indication that he intended to marry anyone but her. So why did he agree to have me sent to him? What was he planning to do?” Gisela shivered.

“Whatever it was, it can’t have been good.”

John mulled over the question for the next two days. Even through the Sunday morning worship service he didn’t gain any clarity, though the time spent with Gisela further solidified his determination not to give her up. But how could he keep her?

His attempts to rebuild the army were hampered by the distance between Castlehead and Millbridge. To John’s relief, on Wednesday morning the old deacon Bartholomew arrived for the midweek worship service with the news that Luke had just arrived safely in Sardis. John consulted with Gisela after the service while he made preparations to meet with his brother.