Exile's Return (Book 1) (42 page)

‘But you do have a life there. You could make one. It’s your home, mother.’

‘No. Not without your father. You have no idea how bad it was for the first few weeks after he died. As much as I wanted to be with you while you were imprisoned there, I was so glad I didn’t have to be in that place without Trevor. I beg you to understand. Without your father, I have only a half life left. Part of me died with him and the remaining part is better off here at the abbey, where I can at least teach a few meagre skills to the novices and postulates. I dare not even take the veil because I cannot give myself fully to the service of the gods. You two don’t need me around and you know it. Please, don’t ask me again.’

Robert’s eyes remained glued to hers for a moment, then he looked away. ‘Do you remember the day you met my father?’

‘As clearly as I’m seeing you. Why?’

‘Do you remember what you thought when you saw him? The very first thing that came to your mind?’

Margaret couldn’t miss the uncharacteristic intensity in her son’s gaze, but she didn’t flinch. ‘Yes, I remember.’

‘What?’

She shrugged. ‘He’s the one.’

Robert’s eyebrows rose in surprise. That particular expression had always made him look a little vulnerable, and this time was no different. ‘And you never doubted it? Afterwards? When you got to know him?’

‘I only became more certain – I still am to this day. Robert, what’s this about? Are you thinking of marrying again? Have you met someone?’

Her son shook his head and a gust of breeze tossed a strand of hair across his eyes. He reached up and brushed it away. ‘No. Nothing like that. Sorry. It’s just something Finn and I were discussing.’

‘To do with what?’

‘Just some old manuscripts he was reading. History. Nothing more. Forget it.’

She was tempted to do as he suggested, but for the life of her she couldn’t make the connection between her meeting Trevor and some historical manuscript. However, there was no point in questioning him any further. Once Robert decided not to talk about something, there was no changing his mind.

‘My lord.’

Micah interrupted her thoughts and she looked up. The young man with the flaming red hair was standing and pointing out along the valley. Racing towards them across the gently sloping fields was a rider. The horse beneath him was exhausted and galloped unsteadily. As it crept towards them she could see white foam about its mouth and a layer of sweat on its hide. Whoever it was, he was in a big hurry.

‘Can you see who it is?’ Micah murmured moving to stand beside Robert and Margaret.

Robert shook his head. ‘No. But it looks important.’

The lay workers who tilled the land of the abbey had stopped work to watch the rider pass by. A few had gathered before the gate and were ready when the horse came to a stumbling halt. Barely waiting for them to take its head, the rider jumped down and, receiving instructions, ran through the gate and up the steps towards the garden.

Margaret glanced at her son, then turned to where the steps came out behind the lavender hedge. Moments later the man appeared, dust and mud smeared over his clothes while an empty scabbard swung idly at his side. He caught sight of them and rushed over with what seemed the last of his strength. He took one look at Robert and sank to his knees.

‘My lord,’ he gasped air in ragged breaths, ‘I have ridden long and hard with most grave news.’

Margaret found her hands clutch together against the words she most feared. McCauly. Something must have happened.

Robert, with more steadiness than she, moved a step
forward. ‘Calmly now, man. Get some air into your lungs first, then tell me.’

‘Sad tidings, my lord,’ the man seemed unable to lift his head. ‘I come to tell you of a treacherous battle – and that your uncle, His Grace the Duke of Haddon, is dead.’

‘Well, I must say, Jenny, that it’s all been very quiet so far,’ Lawrence smiled as he accompanied her into the shady garden. ‘Perhaps Bella’s fears will turn out to be unfounded.’

‘Perhaps,’ Jenn replied absently, glancing at the others in the garden. It may have seemed quiet to Lawrence, but after two weeks in Marsay, Jenn had discovered the court was a hive of all sorts of activity, some of which was obvious and some of which was almost invisible. For example, there was the Dowager Duchess of Coily, whose son was in love with one of the Queen’s ladies, but the Duchess disapproved of the match and so the lovers had to meet in secret. It appeared that all the court, with the exception of Her Grace, knew about it. There seemed no end to the amount of gossip which passed from one group to another. Just when Jenn had thought she’d heard the latest, another piece would fall into her lap. Not that she eavesdropped as such, but it was difficult to be unaware of the web of intrigue.

Lawrence was a better guide than Bella. He was easygoing and knew quite a few of the people at court. He’d spent a lot of time there off and on over the years and continued to keep in contact. He escorted Jenn with all the deference of a knight accompanying a Queen and at times had Jenn laughing with his chivalrous manner, as though it were a private joke between them. It was Lawrence alone who had made those first few days bearable. Especially now with the news about Robert’s uncle. Jenn longed to leave court, go to Dunlorn, but what could she do? Robert had lost his uncle and nothing would ever change that.

As Lawrence led her to a quiet bench by the pond, Jenn caught sight of the Queen surrounded by a small group of ladies but, like everyone else at court, she hardly glanced in
Jenn’s direction. There was a well-dressed man sitting close by Rosalind and they seemed to be deep in conversation, but at this distance, Jenn could only guess what they talked about.

She’d met the Queen officially on the evening of their second day. The Queen had been polite, welcomed her to court, but said nothing more. Jenn had been glad of the easy escape. She was not altogether sure of what she could possibly say to a Queen. Of Selar she had seen almost nothing, only glimpsed him once at the end of the room. The tall fair-haired man had barely noticed her presence, but that did nothing to alleviate Jenn’s disquiet.

After a few moments of silence, Lawrence said, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Bella. Principally to ask you to be patient.’

Jenn glanced aside at him. ‘What makes you think I’m not?’

‘Oh, nothing really,’ Lawrence gave her a companionable smile. ‘It’s just that sometimes your face gives you away. When you first arrived at Elita I could hardly begin to know what you were thinking. Now it’s not so difficult.’

‘I do my best,’ she murmured, dropping her head, ‘but patience is not my strong point.’

‘Oh, don’t take it as a criticism, Jenny,’ Lawrence patted her arm, ‘I meant only to suggest that you give her a little more time. Your sudden arrival has caused a huge change in her life.’

‘I know, Lawrence,’ Jenn nodded. ‘I promise I’ll try.’

‘Good.’ He smiled, then froze as his eyes focused on something behind her. In a more conspiratorial voice he added, ‘Have your best curtsey ready, Jenny dear. I think the King is finally making his move.’

Jenn’s eyes widened, but she had enough self-control to stop herself from spinning around in her seat to see. When she did move, she took her cue from Lawrence, standing as he did and turning around to drop to a low curtsey. Remembering Bella’s admonitions on the subject, she remained down, staring at a pair of silver-trimmed grey
boots for some minutes. Then a distinctly superior and slightly amused voice bade her rise.

‘So, this is Jacob’s child. Stand up straight, girl, and let me take a look at you.’

Jenn let her eyes rise only as far as the emerald pendant which hung around Selar’s throat. Her heart was beating wildly and she didn’t dare open her mouth to say a word.

‘Yes. You have the look of Ross about you.’ Then impatiently, ‘Oh, cease this demure behaviour, child, and look me in the eye!’

Jenn was only marginally aware of Lawrence beside her and the man who stood beside the King. She lifted her eyes to meet Selar’s, while trying desperately to get some control over her heartbeat.

The face that greeted her was not quite what she’d expected. He was older than she’d thought, about forty-five, tall and solid. His grey eyes were narrowed and topped with fair brows which were brought together as if in deep thought. An aquiline nose rested above a fine-lipped mouth set at the moment somewhere between a grin and a sneer – it was difficult to decide which. His finely modulated voice erred on the quiet side, as though he knew he would be heard regardless of how he spoke. His bearing was that of a man who was accustomed to power, and who knew how to use it.

So this was Robert’s great and closest friend. Or had been.

Selar spoke again. ‘I’m pleased you were able to accept my invitation to court. It had occurred to me that because of your rather odd upbringing you might enjoy a spring in Marsay.’

Jenn noted the pause and realized he expected her to say something. She opened her mouth and some words came out. ‘Yes, thank you, Sire.’

The King leaned a little closer to her. ‘I suppose your father was quite surprised to find you were still alive after all these years. You must have had quite a few stories to tell him.’

‘Yes, Sire.’

‘And do you like our beautiful city?’

Jenn swallowed and tried to stop her throat from going dry. ‘Yes, Sire.’

Selar straightened up, but the grim smile never left his face. ‘Yes, I hope you do enjoy your stay with us, my lady, and perhaps while you’re here, we may even be able to find you a husband. I’m sure your father would not object.’

He turned to the man on his left. ‘Remind me to look into it, will you, Nash?’

‘Certainly, Sire.’

Jenn shot a glance at him, but he only smiled gently and she turned her attention back to the King. Selar moved as if he would turn away, but paused. Slowly the smile drifted from his face. ‘It would be injudicious of me not to enquire about your erstwhile rescuer, Dunlorn. It was he, was it not, who so conveniently found you and returned you to Elita?’

Not content with merely beating madly, Jenn’s heart now leapt to her mouth. ‘Yes, Sire.’

‘A hero to your father, no doubt – but of course, I was forgetting; your father thinks Dunlorn is a traitor, doesn’t he?’

Jenn couldn’t reply. It was impossible to guess how far this questioning would go, and there were so many things she didn’t dare say. If only Selar would forget all about Robert, stop asking her about him, just move on. She wanted to reach out and push him on his way.

As though in response to her silent plea, Selar gave a low chuckle. ‘A word of advice, child. See no more of Robert Douglas, Earl of Dunlorn and now Duke of Haddon. I’m sure your father will appreciate the wisdom of it, even if you don’t. Lawrence.’ Selar nodded to them both, then, with Nash at his side, walked away. Jenn watched him pass by the Queen with only the slightest inclination of his head, then he left the garden.

Beside her, Lawrence let out a noisy sigh. ‘And I pray to the gods that will be the last of it. You did well. Jacob will be proud.’

‘Proud?’ Jenn’s eyes stayed on the Queen’s little group,
who were glancing in her direction. ‘Of what? Of the fact that I didn’t disgrace him?’

Lawrence laughed quietly. ‘Come, I think we should go and report to your sister. With any luck, Bella will relax a little after this. I’m just glad she wasn’t with us. She doesn’t like Selar at all. She’s always blamed him for Jacob’s accident. Come.’

With his hand on her elbow, Lawrence firmly led Jenn back to their rooms.

*

Rosalind left the garden with Kandar and her ladies trailing behind. She couldn’t get any closer to Selar. Even if she’d asked about McCauly, Selar wouldn’t tell her anything. Her questions would only irritate him and there was every chance he would then refuse to let her visit McCauly in the future. So how else to serve the Bishop? How could she tell if Selar intended him harm?

Kandar? Would he be able to do something? He was Selar’s cousin, after all. Selar wouldn’t suspect him of having any other motives for asking about McCauly – and Selar was more likely to tell his own cousin the truth of his intentions. Yes, that was it. The best way. The only way. And then she could get a message to Godfrey.

But how was she to ask such a thing of George? Directly, with her ladies listening and watching everyone she spoke to? Or indirectly – and have him completely misunderstand her questions?

Then he would ask Selar who would immediately know who was really asking the question … and … and …

What was the point? None of them were in a position to get McCauly free. Even Godfrey had refrained from making such a promise. For Rosalind to try anything so obvious would show her hand and achieve nothing. All she could really do was wait and listen. Patience.

Patience and hope.

It wasn’t much, but it was a world better than nothing at all.

*

‘But Sire, I beg you to reconsider. You’ve already signed the warrant; all that’s left is to assign a date for execution. It would be unwise to wait any longer.’

Nash watched Vaughn work himself up into a sweat with yet another appeal to the King. Vaughn was so explosive these days, Nash wondered how Selar put up with him. As always, the King merely nodded with an ironic smile which was, to Nash’s eyes, extremely insulting. Vaughn was oblivious to it, though, and continued on regardless.

‘If Blair is allowed to live, then there is no doubt he will be a figure others will seek to support. If he …’

‘Did I say I was going to let Blair live?’ Selar stood and walked the length of the empty council table. ‘I merely said I was not ready to fix a date. I want to make him sweat a little. His wife and son are still in custody. As long as we have them, Blair and whatever supporters he has left will keep their places. I expect I will make a decision some time next week. Oh, and while we’re on the subject, I thought I told you I wanted both Blair and Haddon alive. Why do I have only one prisoner?’

Vaughn shrugged indifferently. ‘An unfortunate accident, Sire. Haddon would not surrender and fought with the intention of not being taken. I have questioned the soldier who killed him and the man appears to have had little choice.’