Claudia Dain (36 page)

"Let her only submit to him and Ulrich will do his part as a man. The marriage will stand. Ulrich will have his portion, and he will be content for once. 'Tis all he wants, this land, this place for himself."

"What of Juliane and what she wants? Is it only the weight of her land that makes him want her? That is what will keep her fighting. Do you not see it?"

"I see only that Ulrich should have what he has worked so hard to get. She loses nothing. 'Tis only that she gains a husband."

"Then what matter the name of her husband? Why should she take Ulrich without a fight to mark the union?"

"Because Ulrich is a better man than most. He is a worthy knight, equally full of valor and of heart, his smile as swift as his sword. Would not a woman welcome such a man?"

"You talk as if you know him well. How long have you been in his service?"

"I have known him all my life," William said. "I know him well, and love him better."

Lunete sighed heavily and said, "I do not think Juliane will ever say as much about him."

* * *

"I have heard nothing about him that gives me pause. He is a knight like any other," Nicholas said. "Good fortune only has made him husband to le Gel."

"Worry not as to that. Take Juliane, make her yours. The marriage will follow upon your taking, as it did for Philip. But take her—that is the point upon which success lies. Without her blood upon you, all falls to dust, our plans unmade."

"Worry not as to that," Nicholas said with a hiss of anger. "I am no such man as to be unmade by a maid. I do not know how she came by her legend, but I will strip it from her. Once free of Stanora, she is mine upon that hour."

Conor considered his sudden ally in this game of gain and revenge. Nicholas was strong and sure, and sometimes that was enough to see a deed done. Would that it be so even now.

He wanted this. He wanted to defeat Philip in the making of this marriage as Philip had defeated him in the making of Juliane's first marriage. He had been the one to forge the betrothal; it had been his man who had been forced from the marriage bed, his cock useless and soft, the legend of Juliane taking flight upon the death of that bond he had arranged with such care.

Philip had had some hand in that death, though he could not see how. It was only that he knew Philip and knew there was no boundary beyond which he would not pass to see hurt brought to Conor. And so it was the same for Conor unto Philip. This battle, begun in Emmelia, would play itself out beyond their deaths.

Yet in this battling, he had no wish to cause hurt to Juliane. He could not see that the changing of one man for another of greater name and worth would harm her. Nay, for at least Nicholas's worth was as great as hers, and that would please her vanity.

But if Nicholas should fail in the matter of her breaching, then all would fail. He had no heart to take the boy William without the assurance of victory in the winning of St. Ives unto himself. And so the two of them stood in uneasy rest upon the competence of the other. For his part, be thought the taking of Juliane to be the harder test. To make off with an untried bastard youth was an easy matter.

"Now listen well," Conor said in an undertone. "When the chapel empties. I will speak with Ulrich, taking him from her side. In that moment, lure Juliane to you by whatever means you may. Take her from Stanora and get her far from here. Do what must be done and do it quick."

"What of Ulrich? He will follow. He will fight. He will not let her slip with such ease into another man's grasp."

"He will," Conor said with confidence. "I will give him something else to do. I will take William upon that moment. Given the choice, whom will he follow? His bride untouched or his son beloved?"

It did not require an answer. There was no man upon the earth who valued his wife above his son. Of wives, there were plenty. Of sons, those who lived were few. A man loved his son above all others upon the earth. Ulrich would follow, seeking William. Juliane would be left on her own with Nicholas. There would be none to save her.

Chapter 20

"Has he sealed the bond? I am losing this battle. Death rides me hard and I am weary."

Walter, ever at his father's side, took Philip's hand and kissed it. "Vespers is almost done. They will go to their chamber anon and Ulrich, as you trust him, will do his part. The marriage will be set and sealed. You will have no cares left to you Father, and can fly to heaven without worry."

"I cannot leave her so," Philip said, as if Walter had not spoken. "Ulrich must take her, binding her to him. I cannot leave her to Conor's grasp."

"And you do not," Walter assured. "She is well set. Ulrich is close upon the binding of their vows."

"Close upon," Philip muttered. "Close upon. Much can befall a maid at such a time."

"But will not. She is safe within Stanora's walls, her body bound to a man of your choosing. Nothing can befall her."

Philip closed his watery eyes, so pale a blue now as to be almost silver. "Anything can befall her."

"What is amiss?" Walter asked. "What hounds you, Father?"

"Conor is ever at my throat, biting, seeking blood."

"Aye, he is most troublesome, is my uncle."

"But he was not always so."

"Nay? What changed him?"

Philip opened his eyes and pierced his son with a silver-white stare. "I changed him."

Walter looked down at his father, so weak and thin now, once so strong and broad and fit. What deathbed confession was upon his lips? What memory did he purge even as he flew past heaven's gate?

"How?" Walter asked, holding tight onto his father's hand, holding him fast against the call of heaven.

"I took Emmelia and made her mine. She was betrothed to another. I wanted her. I wanted Stamford and St. Ives."

"You took her?" Walter asked, his voice hoarse in disbelief. This put a different spin upon everything he had ever known of his parents, of his whole world. "You stole her from her lawful betrothed and from her father's hall?"

"By giving Stamford to the abbey," Philip continued over Walter's questions, "I thought to pay that debt. Many prayers will that buy me."

"What of Conor?"

"Conor," he said scornfully. "Your mother learned contentment. I gave her Stanora, did I not? A rich prize. She held it dear. Our marriage pleased God, for did we not have three children grow to maturity? God forgave me. Conor did not. Conor will do anything to avenge himself upon me."

"But not upon Juliane," Walter said.

"Even upon Juliane," Philip breathed out through cracked lips. "He made Juliane's first marriage, with your mother's blessing, for did she not want all wounds healed between our houses? I agreed. I let him make his match, but when your mother died, the betrothal contract scalded in my hand."

"What did you do?" Walter demanded, his voice rising. "What could you have done? All know what befell that night. All know that Juliane was wed and that her husband could not rise."

"Aye, all know it," Philip said. "I made certain of that."

Raw understanding broke into Walter's thoughts, changing the very order of the world.

"'Twas all a lie," Walter said softly as he worked it through in his mind. "Her husband
did
breach her, the marriage was valid, yet you would not have it so, and so the lie of Juliane was born. Maud served as witness, party to the deception, but what was it you offered Juliane so that she would toss that worthy man from her? And what did you offer the man, he who would have a name for falling when he had not fallen at all?"

Philip said nothing. He held Walter's gaze, but he also held his tongue.

"Speak out!" Walter said. "I must know what went before so that I can preserve what I may of Stanora's name."

"Juliane was given her freedom," Philip said.

"Freedom? Freedom from what? To do what?"

"Freedom to never marry. Freedom to live her life as she would. And the glory of a legend to mark her place in the world."

"And she agreed to that," Walter said, running a hand through his hair. "Aye, she would, with Maud ever in her ear and with her own youth to misguide her."

"She has been well content!" Philip said stiffly, flicking spittle into the air.

Walter ignored that defense and asked, "What of the man? What of him?"

"What of him? Do you even remember his name?"

Almost he remembered it, but it trailed away like a dim shape in the mist, lost without being grasped.

"None remember him," Philip said. "It was my promise to him, and I have kept it. Of Juliane and her victory over her husband's cock, all remember. Of her fallen husband, none. I paid him well and set in motion the beginnings of a new betrothal with a fine damsel. He is well content. I did no harm."

Did no harm. Did no harm, except that he had broken a binding betrothal for little cause other than his own pride. No harm, except that now Juliane, by Philip's word, was in the path of harm from Conor, in some way. How? He could not see it, his mind did not turn into these twisted paths that his father and his uncle roamed at will.

Walter pushed his confusion to the back of his thoughts and forced himself to think of why his father spoke of these old wounds now. Of how an uncle could wound a father through his daughter.

And then he knew.

"Conor will take Juliane. He will not allow this marriage you have arranged to stand without a tempest to mark it," Walter said, rising to his feet, releasing his father's hand. "Only the consummation stands in his path, and he to witness it."

"Guard my will in this," Philip said from his bed. "Keep her from Conor and his Nicholas until Ulrich is in her, hard and fast within her."

Walter turned back to face his father from the door. "Nicholas? But Nicholas is here. He came with Conor."

Philip tried to raise himself, the veins in his neck standing out like roots, his blood pulsing hard and thick. "You kept this from me? This man is nothing but Conor's pawn. He will do what I did long years past. He will steal Juliane from here, thwarting my will and my choice."

"And why was Ulrich your choice?" Walter asked harshly. "Nicholas of Nottingham
is
the better match, if not for your stubborn with my uncle."

"Ulrich is my choice because he was here when I fell into this wasting death," Philip said without emotion and without remorse. "Any man is better than the one Conor would thrust upon my will."

"Because it thwarts Conor's will yet again? What else does Ulrich bring besides the bruising of Conor's pride? What else, Father?
Nothing
. Again, it is a woman caught between your will and his."

Philip's eyes blazed white in his sharp-featured face. "Why else does Conor fight this bond but that he seeks to wound me? What has changed between us? Nothing. Nothing, and so I say, find Juliane and protect her. I am still lord here, and my will must surmount."

"So you say," Walter said, thinking of all the lies that lived within Stanora by this man's will.

"Obey my will."

Walter bowed stiffly and said, "I always have."

But he did not say he always would.

* * *

Nicholas pushed into the church as she was pushing out. She had no wish to see him. Why did he not leave Stanora now that Stanora's legend was beyond his grasp? All other men before him had. What else was there for a suitor but the testing of his skill against the legend of The Frost?

When that was done, the game played out, all hours slipped again into their proper uses. She hawked and hunted and played at chess and rode a fine horse beneath the wide sky—all without thought of men. All without thought of future. Her future was secured, set, and sealed. A future of no husband and no child; that had been the price of the bargain, and she had met it well.

Why had her father broken their bargain?

Why did he cast her into this marriage when it would break all to shards?

She had to find a plan of escape, a way out of this bedding her father had arranged. If she did not, the lie they had spun dark years ago would be revealed.