Honor & Roses (22 page)

Something in Alric’s tone told her he wasn’t convinced. “What bothers you?” she asked softly.

“The fact that he’s here at all. I told Theobald he should not join us. Yet he is here anyway, and with only the barest explanation why.”

“What will you do?”

He closed his eyes, as if he needed sleep. But then he opened them again, and said, “We’ll continue on. And we’ll both watch him. Rafe is hiding something—I just don’t know what.”

* * * *

After a long day’s travel, they camped once again. Now aware of how quickly danger could strike, the men-at-arms stayed vigilant. Cecily should be grateful that nothing more happened, but part of her wished for a catastrophe, if it would prevent her from reaching her destination.

Meanwhile Alric held himself aloof, careful to avoid being alone with her for even a moment. It was impossible for Cecily to talk with him, which she knew was his intent.

Finally, the entourage passed out of the Ardenwood a few days later, to the considerable relief of the knights.

As the deep forest dwindled out to sparse trees, the land became quite hilly. Cecily, sick of being cooped up in the carriage, insisted on riding once again. Alric rode next to her, but even so, a discreet conversation was out of the question.

Still, Cecily was happy to be in the open air. She looked around with interest and some trepidation. This land was not as fertile and rich as what she was used to. There were farm fields and little hamlets, but the world here seemed more wild and threatening. Even the late summer wildflowers that dotted the edge of the road grew smaller and more spindly. Cecily cast a look back toward the cart that held her rose. She wondered if the plant would survive the winter. Then she wondered if she would survive it herself.

“Look,” Alric said suddenly, bringing her attention around. He pointed to the hunched stone faces of a mountain range, looming blue in the distance.

“Those hills lie in Wales,” Alric said. “The lord Pierce’s lands are just to the east of the end of that range.”

“The pass to Wales is near there?” Cecily asked. “The one my uncle said was so important?”

He nodded. “I’ve never seen it myself, but I know that it’s one of the only passes a large army could make its way through with any speed. That’s why it’s so important to keep control of it, or failing that, to keep eyes upon it. Pierce’s primary duty is to prevent an incursion from the west via that pass. But if he can’t, then he’ll at least be able to send warning to the neighboring shires and to King Stephen.”

“Small chance that the king could muster a force to get here in time, though,” Cecily said. “His attention is all directed toward the south, and the empress’s doings.”

“That’s true, for now. But Pierce’s family has held these lands for years, and protected the pass well. You should have no trouble from the Welsh.”

She hoped that was the case. And indeed, it made little sense to fear the Welsh as a people. The border between England and Wales was often peaceful, not requiring anything like that great wall in the north of the country, built by the Romans to keep invading tribes out. The two nations often mingled. People traded, married, and moved from side to side.

Cecily’s concern was the Welsh
prince,
and his raiders. He made no secret of the fact that he’d expand eastward if he had the chance, he could gather an army to him. When Cecily lived at Cleobury, the threat was frightening but seemed far away. Here it was all too real.

“My lady?” Alric was asking.

“What?” she said. She’d been lost in thought. “What did you say?”

“I only asked if you were well.”

“As well as one would think,” she replied, keeping her voice quiet. “After all, I’m riding to meet my new husband. How could I not be well?”

“Cecily.” Alric’s tone dropped so only she could hear. “Don’t—”

“Do you think my uncle refused to escort me himself because he didn’t want to see the wedding?” she asked. The idea had just sprung into her mind, but it made sense. Theobald never liked scenes of great emotion.

“Cecily…”

“Or just that he trusted you, his loyal vassal, to carry out the minutiae of the task. After all, now that I’m betrothed he needs to spend no more thought on me.” Cecily sighed, realizing just how her uncle saw her. How he’d always seen her. “I thought he loved me a little, in his way. But that was just my fancy.”

“Cecily…”

“Or perhaps I simply do not understand what men mean when they say the word
love
. It is evidently quite different from how women use it.”

She was too afraid to hear Alric say something she’d hate, so she directed her horse so she could ride further away. He let her, though he kept pace with her.

An hour more, and the advance riders cried news of a castle being sighted. Cecily knew without being told: it was
the
castle. Soon the whole party could see it. The lord Pierce’s favorite home was perched on a hill along a ridge.

The castle was formidable, commanding a view for miles around the countryside, as well as the pass into Wales. The structure was dark grey, like the mountain range, and it seemed to rise up as though it had grown like a mountain itself.

Cecily rode on, now flanked by both knights.

“I’d hate to lay siege to this,” Rafe muttered, eyeing the castle.

“That’s the intention, I believe,” Alric responded.

“Take heart, my lady,” Rafe said with too easy a smile. “Once you’re inside the castle,
no
one will be able to get you out.”

Cecily didn’t respond to the subtle jibe, though Rafe was correct. She’d be trapped as soon as she crossed the gateway of that castle. Trapped by honor, by obligation, by vows. The castle would be her prison.

Lord Pierce had watchers of course, and not long after they caught sight of his castle, a party of men rode out toward them. The group from the castle were dressed in livery, carrying banners rather than weapons.

Still, she saw how Alric and Rafe both kept their hands on the pommels of their swords until the last moment. Their training made them consider everything a threat, even a greeting from their host.

“My lord sends his greeting to the lady Cecily de Vere and her party!” a page announced when he was within earshot. “Let us escort you all this last part of the journey. My lord awaits his bride with great eagerness.”

Cecily relaxed only when the knights did. Alric gave a dark look over the liveried riders, but then nodded. “Very well.”

He gave the signal for everyone to continue on, and soon the group rode up the long path to the gates of Malvern Castle.

* * * *

Inside, they were treated with every courtesy a noble entourage would expect—save that the lord himself was not there to greet them. Cecily didn’t object to this slight deviation in tradition. She needed a few moments to orient herself before she could face her husband-to-be. Perhaps he felt the same.

The thought gave her a moment’s pause. All this time, she’d only been looking at the marriage from her perspective. But perhaps Pierce had reasons for this formal, distant arrangement. What if he feared her judgment of him? After all, not all men were paragons, despite what their envoys claimed. He might be nervous to be seen by a potential wife. A rush of sympathy went through her. She would give this lord the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t start their marriage off on the wrong foot by behaving badly at their first meeting.

After servants had taken their horses away and more servants offered water for the travelers to wash their hands and faces, the steward finally announced that he would escort them to the lord Pierce, who waited somewhere within.

Cecily had only been in a few castles in her life, but she knew enough to be impressed by this one. The thickness of the walls, the narrow windows perfect for archers, and the scores of trained soldiers in the area made it clear that Pierce could sleep quite soundly.

Still, it was built to be grand as well, and Cecily appreciated the sheer size of the great hall. High clerestory windows provided light, and colorful banners hung from the heavy rafter beams, softening an otherwise utilitarian room. At the far end, a raised dais directed all attention to it.

The man sitting on the grandly carved chair at the center of the dais had to be the lord Pierce.

His rich clothing proclaimed it. His lordly attitude proclaimed it. The way all the servants scurried to do his bidding proclaimed it.

His attention, however, was distracted from the new arrivals due to the woman on his lap. And she would be distracting, Cecily thought, the way her gown was mostly unlaced and how her dark hair tumbled loose over her shoulders.

It was one thing for a man to have a mistress. To flaunt her right in front of his new bride was another thing altogether. Even Rafe raised an eyebrow at the scene.

The herald announced, “Lady Cecily de Vere has arrived.”

Pierce looked over at the little group. He spoke to his leman in Welsh, and she laughed knowingly.

Then he said, “Go, Myfanwy. I’ll find you later.”

She slid off his lap and sauntered away, casting a disdainful look at Cecily as she did.

“Well met,” he said to Cecily.

“Am I?” she asked.

That was far more blunt than she intended, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Only moments before, she vowed to treat this man with kindness and sympathy. So much for that.

Pierce waited for her to continue, but Cecily allowed the slowly lengthening silence to spread through the hall, leaving the next move to him. Perhaps that would jolt this foolish lord into behaving properly.

Finally, something did cross his face. Not shame, but a glimmering of interest.

“My lady Cecily,” he said, more formally, “Welcome to Malvern Castle. You will no doubt want to be shown to guest chambers. We’ll speak in private before supper.”

“That will do,” Cecily said coldly. She curtsied—barely—and then turned to leave the receiving room.

Alric offered an arm to escort her. “Be strong,” he murmured. “Don’t give them an opening.”

She gripped his arm tightly. Alric was right. She wouldn’t show weakness. This opening scene was a test. Or an attack. If she backed down now, Pierce would exploit her forever more.

The household steward led them to a broad tower where the guest chambers were located. Alric went in first, and looked around the whole room as if he expected something dire. But then he said, “It should do, my lady. Send word if you need anything. We’ll be here immediately.”

She signaled that she heard his words, though the truth was that she barely did. Then Cecily was left alone in the guest room to ponder the abrupt change in her circumstances.

Her body was still shaking. How could she possibly go through with a marriage to someone who kept his lover on his
lap
?

It was intolerable. It was insulting. She should summon Alric and tell him that he could escort her directly back home in the morning. She’d burn the contract before she married Pierce.

Then a horrible thought came to her. What if Pierce wouldn’t let them leave? This castle was intimidating from the outside. It would likely be just as difficult to escape from the inside.

Cecily had never been so aware of her value as a pawn. Pierce had every reason to keep her here. He would lose nothing by marrying her.

But she would lose no matter what. Marrying Pierce would take her freedom away. Refusing him would make her an outcast—her uncle would never support her decision.

She wished Pavia could have come. The older woman would commiserate with her, then offer advice and a string of well-turned phrases to throw at this arrogant lord. As it was, she had only Agnes, who was partisan but unable to offer anything more than sympathy. As welcome as that was, Cecily didn’t need sympathy. She needed a way out.

An hour later, a knock came at the door.

“Enter!” called Cecily.

A maid stood there. She said in a timid voice, “My lord Pierce wishes to see you, my lady. I’ll show you the way, if you’re ready?”

Cecily followed the maid past closed doors of heavy, dark oak, and dim hallways where candles were just being lit against the coming night. Everything seemed oppressive to her overwrought brain.

“What is your name?” Cecily asked the girl, who appeared to be about thirteen.

“Yvota, my lady,” she replied.

Yvota announced her and then stood out of the way in a corner of the room, awaiting orders.

Lord Pierce’s chamber was grand by any standard. Situated on an upper floor of the widest tower, it had a window on each wall, so that the area would be well lit and fresh smelling. The room was dominated by a massive bed. At present, the hangings around the bed were tied back to reveal the rich bedspread and plump down pillows, but in cold weather, they could be pulled around the bed for warmth.

She took all this in with one glance, then cast her eyes elsewhere, not wishing to show any interest in Pierce’s sleeping habits. The rest of the room was just as grand, with several carved benches and chests scattered around. There was a desk by one window, where Pierce must conduct most of his business. He stood there now, watching Cecily.

“My lady,” he said. He gestured to a small bench near him. “Please.”

She heard the subtle order in his voice. He wasn’t inviting her to sit. He was commanding her to.

Still, she sat down. Opposing him on such a minor matter would be pointless.

“You’ll drink with me,” he said next.

“I take my wine watered,” she said.

He had made a motion for another servant, a boy of fourteen or so, to bring a glass. Pierce took it first, then offered her the glass himself.

Cecily accepted it, then sipped. It was not watered.

“Our wedding,” Pierce said, “will take place on Lammas Night, four days from now. Naturally, the entire household will exert the highest effort to make the occasion perfect. You’ll find I don’t tolerate anything less than perfection.”

“I was taught by my priest that perfection is only found in Heaven.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes, but then laughed, as if she told a joke. “Perhaps. But should salvation elude me, I want to know what perfection is like in this life. You’re not drinking your wine.”