Carolyne Cathey (39 page)

"
K
ing Edward, I request a word
with you, in private."

Kyle watched his
liege lord stretch, then push away his golden trencher from his early-evening
meal.  The sky darkened on the dreariest of days, a day without Eleanor.

"More
details to discuss, Kyle?  My men prepare for our departure."

"I won't
take much of your time, your grace."  He hoped he lied with that
statement; Kyle planned to suck the sand from the hourglass to steal as much
time as possible.

King Edward
pushed to his feet.  "Still so formal, Kyle?  You are soon to nestle among
the bosom of my family."

Kyle lowered his
head in a slight bow and gestured to the screen behind the dais.  "In the
solar?"

"Ah, well. 
As you wish."

Kyle followed King
Edward to the solar and motioned him to the settle in front of the hearth. 
"I hope you slept well."  Kyle hadn't slept at all, and he doubted he
could ever sleep again until he knew of Eleanor's safety. 

King Edward
sprawled in the corner of the bench, one booted ankle at rest on his knee, one
lanky arm stretched along the wooden back.  "I slept, but 'twas
lonely."

Needing the heat,
Kyle drifted to stand in front of the fire, then he faced Edward, his hands
clasped behind his back.  "My apologies, King Edward.  I didn't know you
would want another beside your wife.  Even so, the one lass we did have for
that purpose, is soon to be wed."

Edward's eyes
narrowed.  "Do you flaunt this other Eleanor with no fear of my
retaliation?"

Kyle's stomach
cramped at the sound of her name.  "Nay, lord.  'Tis Beth of whom I
speak.  And I promised not to rob much of your time, so I'll be to the
point."

King Edward
nodded, his gaze locked onto Kyle's as a warrior in battle, an intense study of
his every movement, his every thought.

Kyle hated this
type of war.  He preferred the pureness of the field where colors denoted the
enemy.  The slash of a sword swung not so subtle as the tongue.  Yet, he would
fight a battle of any kind for Eleanor. 

He met King
Edward's gaze.  "You promised me a favor."

The king's eyes
widened.  "Aye.  'Tis already granted."

"I choose
not to wed Lady Mellisande."

King Edward
stilled.

Kyle felt certain
that even the stones of the walls tensed as he returned the king's scrutiny,
warrior to warrior, in a battle, dangerous to the death.

With slow
movement his liege lord placed his foot on the floor.  "Then, I am to
assume you wish me to take your leman to London as a castle whore?"

"Tis no
longer a choice, my king.  She might carry a pox.  'Twould be a disaster to the
court.  And at this time, I know not her location." 

Kyle prayed
Jerrod had traveled much distance the past night, for Kyle could stall no
longer.  And he hoped Eleanor had understood his hint about wanting her far
away by this next eve, his message about her safety.  In truth, he should be
grateful to Brigham, for his brother had presented Kyle with the excuse needed
to pry her from the king's grasp.

King Edward
scooted back until he sat straight on the settle.  "Do you mock me, Kyle? 
Do you think to trick your liege lord?  Break your vow?"

"Nay, your
grace.  But you gave me the option not to wed your cousin.  I accept the
option."

"Do we talk
in circles?  You think I cannot find your wench?  I found Davydd amongst the
hills and rocks of that desolation called Wales.  You know; you were with me. 
'Twould be a simple matter to find a wayward peasant in my own land.  I'd have
to stifle a yawn 'twould be so easy."

Kyle's afternoon
meal stirred in his stomach at the truth.  For certain he would wed Lady
Mellisande to save Eleanor.  But he intended to save Eleanor
and
be
spared Lady Mellisande.  He felt as if he climbed along a slick precipice.

"King
Edward, I have been a loyal servant amongst your troops since I stood but a
squire in the Holy Land.  I have fought by your side as a knight, protected you
with my life, although you made the task most difficult with your penchant for
great risks.  And even though only forty days each year are required for me to
serve you, I've been with you without fail these past four years.  So 'tis not
the fact that Lady Mellisande is your cousin that causes my hesitation.  'Tis
her manner.  She possesses the same cruelty that runs in the blood of all
Hanley's.  And you would chain me to her until either she or I die?  If this be
an honor, my lord, I choose not any reward."

Disbelief swam in
the king's eyes.  "Lady Mellisande?  Cruel?  That lovely icon of
gentleness?  Lies don't become you, Kyle.  Even if you spoke true, any warrior
such as you who can battle four knights at one time and yet come out the
victor, can handle one delicate female."

"Cousin
Edward?" 

Lady Mellisande
swept through the doorway, a false vision of sweetness garbed in a gown the
color of Bindweed, white, for purity.  Hah.  She only sought to mask her heart
as black as Satan's cook-pot.  Yet, the comparison to Bindweed seemed
appropriate, for the plants' roots lurked deep in the ground, a nightmare to
eradicate.  Above ground, the vine choked the life out of any plant the
tendrils could reach.  Aye, a Bindweed.

Edward stood. 
"Come in, Sweet." 

"I wanted to
wish you God speed before you set upon your travels."  She swished up to
King Edward and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.  "Give Eleanor my
love."

Edward slipped
his arm around her shoulder.  "We have an untidy turn of events, Sweet. 
'Twould seem your suitor has a fickle heart."

Lady Mellisande's
eyes narrowed but a fraction.  Kyle watched the subtle change in her
expression, the crafty nuance that hid behind the windows to her soul.  Aye,
she hid her emotions well, like King Edward.  And then Kyle realized their
other similarities: the fiery temper, the demand of their own way, the slyness,
the cunning, and aye, even the cruelty.  Yet, King Edward didn't practice
cruelty for the mere pleasure.  And his liege lord possessed a nobility of
character unknown in Lady Mellisande.  Of most import, Edward claimed kingship.

"Have I
displeased him, Cousin?  Am I an ugly brute?  Do I slobber?  Or is my sin that
my hair shines fair instead of dark?  That my eyes gleam blue instead of
green?  I am usurped by a peasant.  Kyle makes fools of us both."

"Nay, Lady
Mellisande."  Kyle dipped his head in a slight bow.  "'Tis that our
minds seem not of a peaceful mix.  'Twould be an unpleasurable life for you, I
fear."

"Since when
is an arrangement made on such trivialities?  Edward's marriage to Eleanor was
a choice not of his doing, yet the two are as lovebirds.  Still, ‘tis not a
requirement, am I not correct, Cousin?"  She peered with an obvious fake
innocence into the king's face and batted her pale lashes.  "I have made
clear to the man that this plight of troth is business, that I will not stand
in the way of his paramours.  What more can I say?  'Tis a grand gesture on my
part.  I know Lord Kyle is not a man disposed to meanness.  Nay, I wish the
bargain to stand."

"But, my
lady, you
are
disposed to meanness."  Kyle fought his wince.  He
had not meant to say the words, yet he must do something to stay the
inevitable.

Lady Mellisande
gasped.

King Edward
reddened.  "See here, Kyle.  I won't tolerate such rudeness."

A scuffle of
footsteps sounded in the solar doorway.  Lord Hanley, of course.  And yet, Kyle
expected as much.

"Father! 
Lord Kyle has insulted me yet again.  And he refuses to obey King Edward's
command."

Kyle stayed his
position while Lord Hanley stormed into the solar. 

"King Edward
provided the choice, Hanley.  I choose not to accept, 'tis all."

Lord Hanley
halted before him, his raised fist a threat in Kyle's face.  "I'm a
peaceable man.  I sought to settle our differences in a peaceable manner, but I
see no alternative.  'Tis war, Kyle."

"And why is
this threat any different, Hanley?  'Tis an armored act you employ with much
frequency.  You are as often on Trystonwood as I."

"'Tis mine,
this land.  I wed your mother."

"You
kidnapped her, brutalized her."

"You killed
my son!"

"He rode
beside you when you attacked Trystonwood.  I but defended my land, my
people."

"Cease!" 
King Edward shoved between he and Hanley.  "Cease, I say.  'Tis an order."

Kyle held his
stance, refusing retreat.

Lord Hanley
turned his back and moved to where a frightened looking John carried in a tray
of tankards. 

Lady Mellisande
glanced at the doorway to the garden, then drifted across the solar and slipped
out into the dying dusk.  Suspicion crawled over Kyle's flesh like spiders.

King Edward
sighed, apparently unaware of Lady Mellisande's defection.  "I hate these
petty squabbles.  'Tis why the arrangement; 'twill cease this bickering."

Kyle faced his
king.  "Or, worsen the situation."

Red inflamed King
Edward's face.  "You dare to question my solutions?  You tread on
treasonous ground, Kyle."

Lady Mellisande's
laughter sounded from the garden, and the sound sent a shiver to Kyle's very
core.  Then Brigham swept past the outer doorway and toward the gate, a dark
figure against the red streaks of day's end that slashed across the sky. 
Re-entering, Lady Mellisande swished to where John held the wine tray, made a
selection, then saluted Kyle with her tankard, all smugness and victory, before
moving to her father's side.

Apprehension
tightened like a fist in Kyle's stomach.  He still rankled that Brigham
flaunted his unwelcome presence under the king's protection.  But something
horrid stirred.  Evil surrounded Kyle like a suffocating presence.

The pup scampered
into the chamber and Kyle swallowed an oath.  That cursed dog had already
caused too much trouble.

"Upon my
throne, is that the scoundrel that dares carry my name?"

Before Kyle could
answer, John plunked down the tray with a clatter, scooped Longears into his
arms and stumbled to his knees in front of King Edward.

"I beg an
audience, yer grace."

King Edward
stiffened.  "What is the meaning of this?"

Kyle halted,
stunned.  John had never been so bold before.  Kyle thought to pull the lad
away, but curious, he watched, and waited.

"Milady
saved me life, and the pup's as well.  I plead with ye to spare her, yer
grace."

"And who is
your lady?"

"Lady
Eleanor, yer grace."

"Contemptible
wretch!"  Lady Mellisande grabbed John's shoulder and yanked.  "She's
not your lady. 
I
will be your lady, and you can be certain I will not
forget nor forgive this incidence."

Kyle gripped her
arm.  "Do not dare to threaten one of mine, Lady Mellisande."

"She
threatened to cut off me breasts, she did."

Kyle spun to
Beth.

King Edward
choked on his wine.

"And she
said she'd cut off John's manhood.  Did ye ever hear of such a thing?  No one
else could be so cruel."

Kyle stilled, as
did the others.  He dare not look at King Edward.  Kyle feared Eleanor had set
an unprecedented example with her continual interference, for now even the
servants practiced the same.  And Kyle hoped not with deadly results.  "Ah
. . . Beth . . . 'tis brave of you to tell us this news, but 'twill be enough. 
All of you may leave now."

Hurt flashed on
Beth's face.  "'Tis the truth, I swear."

Jane hurried up
to him and curtsied.  "Milord, I wish to tell the king how horrid the life
at Hanley Hall when I was a servant there, and about how people like yer mother
died so mysterious like, and about Lady Cathryn--"

Lady Mellisande
wrenched from Kyle's hand.  "You will do no such thing.  None of you know
your place.  'Tis a sorry affair, one that I will be quick to correct."

Fisting his hands
to keep them at his side instead of around Lady Mellisande's throat, Kyle
stepped between her and his people.  "'Tis my castle, Lady Mellisande. 
These are my servants."

"Aye, and
you treat them as you did that whore.  You ruin them with softness."  She
waved a flippant hand at King Edward.  "You see how ridiculous he is? 
'Tis quite unbelievable the slipshod and weak manner in which he handles his
servants.  He has no sense of power, no ambition.  I will be good for
Trystonwood."

Kyle scoffed. 
"You will never be part of Trystonwood.  Not even beneath the ground, for
you might poison the soil even in death."

King Edward
released a beleaguered sigh and motioned for his aide to bring him wine. 
"These confessions from your servants, 'tis all for naught, Kyle.  Your
woman may be witty and brave and a joy between the sheets, but such is not the
dictate of politics and power.  What is of import is the land and the
strengthening of England with these mergers by marriage.  If you had kept all
this private we might have reached some kind of arrangement where I allowed her
to remain here to warm your bed.  And you must admit, Lady Mellisande is being
most understanding about your having a leman.  But now that so many are witness
to your insistence that this peasant become your wife, really, Kyle, you give
me no choice."

Kyle had warned
Eleanor of this result if she didn't stay hidden.  Again he repeated the same
question he had asked with each breath of his body during the long, tortuous
night.  Why had Eleanor not stayed in his chamber as he had insisted?  And yet,
when had she ever obeyed him about anything?  He faced the king. 

"My
affection is not of matter, your grace.  Tis my honor.  I gave a knight's vow. 
An unbreakable oath."