Knight's Caress (28 page)

The meal continued in awkward silence. Amberlie noticed Magda in the doorway, and the woman gestured frantically to her. Amberlie excused herself from the table. Magda grabbed her arm. “‘Tis Lady Julianne,” she whispered, “Father Ambrose has seen her already and given her the sacraments, and now Sir Guy is with her. I fear she is dying, my lady.”

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Amberlie quietly entered Julianne’s room. Evening shadows cloaked the walls in darkness. Julianne lay upon the bed, so pale and wan, so weak that she could barely speak. Guy moved aside for Amberlie to stand beside Julianne’s bed. She clasped the dying woman’s hand and found it chilled. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Amberlie asked, bending over Julianne.

Julianne barely shook her head. Already her eyes were glazed, and there was no strength in her hand. Her breathing was labored, but strangely, she seemed to be in no pain. “Hen…ri, will … see him,” she finally spoke, each syllable seemingly wrung from her.

“Her son is all she can think about,” Guy informed Amberlie. “She’s obsessed with seeing him again.”

Amberlie smiled sadly. “I trust she will.”

The room’s shadows deepened. Magda lit the candles on the table, and just as night fell outside, Julianne breathed her last breath. A lump formed in Amberlie’s throat, and her eyes grew misty. She hadn’t liked Julianne, but she hoped the woman had at last found happiness; she prayed that she was with her son, whom she’d loved more than life. Amberlie started to leave the room, knowing that Magda and some of the women would soon come to prepare Julianne’s body for burial. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked Guy.

“Not yet. There are some things I should like to say to my sister—in private.”

“Of course. I’ll tell Magda to wait until you’re finished.”

Guy inclined his head and waited until Amberlie had closed the door behind her before he approached the head of the bed. Gazing down at his sister, he chuckled. “So, you’re at last with your milksop son. Such a stupid woman you were, dear sister, to believe that Tedric had killed Henri. But then you always believed what I told you, because I am a good liar.” He bent near his sister’s face and whispered in her ear. “Tedric didn’t kill Henri. I killed him. I killed him for Woodrose, but more for his wife. Amberlie is a fire in my blood, a woman whom I desire above all else. Henri couldn’t have kept such a woman happy. The little bastard couldn’t even get her with child. He didn’t deserve such a beautiful woman. When I ran him through with my sword, I saw the disbelief on his face because I, his beloved uncle, was the one who’d ended his life.” Guy snickered quietly. “So your venom against Tedric, your efforts to kill him were all in vain, since it was I who took your precious Henri from you.”

Guy straightened up, his mouth curled in a cruel smile. “And I’ll finish the deed you started. I’ll use poison to finish off Tedric, but it will be a poison of the mind. Before this week is through, I’ll control Woodrose and Amberlie.”

He left the room and found Amberlie in the hallway, and feigned a calm yet strained demeanor. But inside, he felt stirrings of desire for the barbarian’s wife, and knew he would finally possess her. Once Tedric was dead, all that should have come to him at Henri de Fontaine’s death would finally be his.

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Soon after Amberlie had departed the dais, Christophe approached Tedric with a worried frown on his face. “‘Tis as we thought, my lord,” he whispered grimly. “Sir Guy plots rebellion among the knights.”

“This is a fact?” Tedric asked, but he knew the answer already.

Christophe nodded. “Sir Antoine informed me that he meets secretly with de Bayonne and some others, not enough men to overthrow you but enough to cause dissension. Most of the knights are undecided, their allegiance is to the king, and they hesitate to rise up. But de Bayonne has planted seeds of doubt in their minds against you. De Bayonne is obsessed with rebellion.”

“When does Sir Antoine believe this attempted uprising will take place?”

“Soon, my lord, very soon.”

“Then we shall take action and rid ourselves of Guy de Bayonne, but we must catch him before any uprising.”

“I shall keep you apprised of the day, my lord.”

Tedric poured a hefty serving of wine into his goblet, more than eager for that day to come.

Julianne was laid to rest the following day. Tedric stood beside Amberlie as the hurriedly crafted coffin was lowered into the ground. Amberlie knew she should feel grief for this woman who had been her mother-in-law, but strangely, she felt only relief. In fact, the mood within the keep lightened considerably within the next few days. Somehow it seemed that a dark period had passed. But though Amberlie no longer worried about Julianne’s dour moods, she couldn’t shake a heaviness of spirit each time she thought about Tedric and Glenna.

There were times she’d catch Tedric watching her, as if he wished to speak to her, but she managed to turn away from him. He still slept away from her, and she spent much of her time in the household activities, so exhausted thereby that by the time night had fallen, she crawled gratefully into bed. Many times she accompanied Gundred into the Saxons’ cottages to minister to the sick at Woodrose, purposely busying herself so she wouldn’t have to think about Tedric. But always, his image was in the back of her mind, vivid and alive, warm and all-consuming.

Amberlie likewise was on Tedric’s mind a great deal of the time. Though he spent his days helping to train the knights, and with Flaubert overseeing the construction of the west tower, Amberlie’s face was always with him. He wanted her, truly desired her, and no amount of physical work could dispel his need. He would have liked to have returned to their chamber and seduced her into wanting him again, but now, he knew something else must bind them together, an emotion so powerful that it would transcend all mistrust. He wouldn’t give a name to what he felt for Amberlie; he couldn’t. If he did, he’d be irretrievably lost.

One afternoon, as Tedric directed some of the knights in mock battle, Father Ambrose quietly came to stand beside him. “My lord, may I have a word with you in private?” the priest asked him, his demeanor serious.

Tedric nodded, breaking away. He and the priest went to stand beside a small rose bush that grew wild in the bailey. Ambrose glanced around, making certain they wouldn’t be overheard. “I must tell you something that will make you see things differently about your wife, my lord.”

“What do you wish to tell me?” Tedric felt cold suddenly, wondering if Ambrose was going to inform him that Amberlie was breaking her marriage vows—perhaps even with the treacherous Guy de Bayonne.

Ambrose hesitated for a moment, then rushed on. “Your wife is innocent of poisoning you. As a man of God, I can say without hesitation that Lady Amberlie didn’t harm you, but I cannot divulge who did the deed. But you needn’t worry, for this unfortunate soul is no longer among the living.”

Tedric immediately understood what Ambrose was indirectly telling him. Someone had privately confessed to the priest about his poisoning and was now dead. The only person who’d recently died within the household was Julianne de Fontaine. Tedric let out a huge sigh, and closed his eyes for a second. Of course. Julianne. She’d thought he had killed her son, and she’d hated him enough to poison him. For the last few weeks he’d sensed Amberlie was innocent. In fact, he’d known it deep within his soul. And now, there was no doubt. He opened his eyes and spoke to Ambrose. “Thank you, Father. You’ve set my mind at rest.”

Ambrose smiled gently. “My hope is that you and Lady Amberlie will have a happy life.”

With all of his heart, Tedric hoped that very same thing. Tonight. He’d speak to her this very night and profusely apologize for doubting her. Maybe she’d forgive him. If only he could convince her that he hadn’t killed Henri, then they would be able to share a life. If only a merciful God, if there was a God, would hear his prayer and help him—for this was one problem he couldn’t resolve on his own. But for the moment, another more pressing problem claimed his attention when the knight known as Antoine came to speak to him. Antoine was working with Christophe on Tedric’s behalf. The time for action against de Bayonne was at hand.

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A small group of knights clustered together in the stable. Their attention was riveted upon Guy de Bayonne, who looked particularly commanding as he stood before them, dressed as he was in a blood-red tunic, his hand clasping the jeweled hilt of his sword. They’d met thus for the last few days, conspiring against Tedric of Woodrose. And now the time for their uprising was at hand, but Guy felt a great sense of unease, despite his confident stance. He’d thought these men were with him, but now he wondered if he could count upon any of them save Baudelaire. “We must act soon and swiftly,” Guy advised them. “Otherwise Tedric shall become too deeply entrenched here.”

“But the man was chosen by our king,” a young knight insisted. “As much as I don’t trust the Saxon, he has King William’s blessing. To go against Tedric is to go against our liege.”

“Oui,”
an older and more experienced knight agreed. “Our plan hasn’t been thought out. We’re but a small number in comparison to the others who are influenced by Christophe and Flaubert. They follow Tedric and claim he is an able leader, a knight who shall fight for our king. Such assertions cannot be disregarded by any of us.”

Baudelaire quickly jumped in. “Bah! You’ve always been much too careful, Francois. Tedric knew the Saxon whom Guy killed. I saw the man sneaking near the keep.”

“And don’t forget that I followed Tedric to the old hag’s cottage, where he spoke to this Saxon,” Guy said. “He had the chance to capture him, but he let him go. Tell me now, is this man a servant of our king? Is he loyal? His very actions placed all of us in jeopardy by protecting his renegade cohort.” Guy’s face turned a blustery red in outrage. He wasn’t so angry over Tedric’s handling of Wulfgar as over the fact that he needed these men’s aid in rebellion, and they didn’t seem eager to help him any longer.

“True,” another knight agreed, “but this man was only one, and you slew him. He wasn’t a threat, and I doubt he ever was. I wonder if you champion rebellion because of your love of King William or your love of power. I don’t wish to rise up and then find William’s own knights on our flanks.”

“Cowards, the lot of you are cowards,” Guy harshly told them, drawing black scowls from the assemblage.

Antoine vehemently shook his head. “Not cowards, but careful conspirators. Except for Tedric’s Saxon blood, I find no fault in his handling of affairs. He is an able leader and experienced warrior, a fine knight and a fair man. I well understand why our king placed him in charge.”

Baudelaire snorted. “Are you saying that Guy de Bayonne was not a good leader? Lest you forget, he ruled Woodrose after Henri’s death.”

“I remember well, but Guy isn’t infallible and made many mistakes.”

Guy didn’t care for Antoine’s assessment of him. The man had always been too cautious for his own good. For weeks, Guy had attempted to stir rebellion in the knights, but always Christophe had intervened to calm them. Now, Antoine was using logic on the small number of men Guy had recruited—or thought he’d recruited. No longer was Guy certain that these men would follow him and overthrow Tedric as master. “Are you with me or against me? I demand your answers now!”

The men turned toward one another, and one by one they silently shook their heads. No doubt they would have left Guy to his own machinations. But like a strong sudden wind from the north, the door to the stable was thrown open, and Tedric and Christophe entered with swords drawn and twenty knights in their wake.

“Here is the nest of traitors, my lord,” Christophe solemnly intoned, “and their leader is Guy de Bayonne.”

“Arrest them!” Tedric ordered, and the knights immediately circled the small group without even a sword drawn from their sheaths. “All except Antoine, who is loyal. We shall have the truth out of the rest of them, but de Bayonne shall be placed in the pit, and Baudelaire with him, for his treachery and what he tried to do to my sister.”

“But, my lord, please have mercy…”

Tedric turned a deaf ear to Baudelaire as he trained his gaze upon Guy. “Now you shall learn firsthand about the pit’s horrors.”

“You truly relish my downfall, Saxon.”

“Aye, I admit that I do.” Tedric rubbed the scar on his cheek, inflicted by de Bayonne’s hand. He remembered clearly how his father had begged the man for his life, only to be cut down like an animal. Two of the knights led Guy out of the stable after they’d taken his sword from him. Two others did the same with Baudelaire.

“You’ve done well, Antoine,” Tedric told the knight.

“Merci,
my lord. My loyalty lies with my king and now with you. The men gathered here all decided not to follow de Bayonne, except for Baudelaire. Your keep is now safe from rebellion.”

Moments later, as Tedric was leaving the stable, a knight rushed forward, his shoulder bleeding from a large gash. Tedric recognized him as one of the knights who’d led Guy and Baudelaire to the pit. “Lord Tedric, they’ve escaped!” The knight was out of breath and panting so hard that at first Tedric wasn’t certain what he’d said. “Sir Guy and Baudelaire wrestled us to the ground. Sir Guy pulled a dagger from inside his tunic and killed Herbert and stabbed Michel and me. I’m sorry, my lord, so sorry, that they got away.”

“But they’re on foot, man, we’ll find them!”

“No, no, on horseback. Sir Guy’s destrier was nearby. They’ve taken off for the forest!”

Tedric commanded his knights to mount immediately and begin the search for Guy and Baudelaire. It seemed everyone in the keep and bailey was outside, everyone but Amberlie, and he wanted to see her before he mounted up. He saw Magda, and asked her where Amberlie was. At first, Magda didn’t look him in the eye, but finally she admitted, “Lady Amberlie rebelled against your orders that she not leave the keep without escort. She required an herb for a poultice for the blacksmith’s sick child, my lord. She—she went into the forest—alone. I promised I wouldn’t tell you that she’d left the keep, but I fear for her, now that night has fallen and she hasn’t returned. I promised that I would not tell you about her condition, but I—must tell you.” Magda wrung her hands in agitation, her face clothed in misery. “Lady Amberlie is carrying your babe, Lord Tedric. She shouldn’t be abroad now, not with Guy de Bayonne loose.”

This was worse than anything Tedric had feared. He could barely speak, but finally he uttered a foul curse as he took his place before his army of knights. “Lady Amberlie hasn’t returned to the keep! She must be found—and soon, before de Bayonne finds her and takes her hostage!”

With red and gold banners flying in the chilly evening wind, Tedric and his men rode forth as one.

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Amberlie felt entirely justified in leaving the keep without escort. She wasn’t a prisoner, but mistress of Woodrose, and needed her herbs and plants for her people. Long ago she’d stopped thinking of them as Saxons and Normans. Now, they were simply people who needed her. The blacksmith’s baby girl was ill with the croup. Gundred didn’t have the required herb, but the forest did, and Amberlie had left without escort or Tedric’s permission to find it.

Dusk was descending. A cool wind blew through the treetops by the time Amberlie found the required herb and was ready to leave the deep woodlands. She trod down the forest path and into the open meadow, hurrying her steps for she wanted to be safely inside Woodrose before dark. Also, she hoped that Tedric hadn’t learned from Magda that she’d left the keep. She didn’t want to have to argue about her disobedience, her flagrant violation of his command. But she’d done nothing wrong, and refused to suffer for it. Still, she didn’t relish another altercation with the man who flaunted his lover before her, humiliating her by his lack of respect for her feelings. Too much had already been said to be readily forgotten, so Amberlie had decided to say as little as possible to Tedric about anything. But soon she’d be forced to tell him about the coming child. Though she’d done her duty by him, she doubted she’d receive the proper respect.

Glancing toward the keep, she noticed a rider approaching, but with the deepening darkness, she couldn’t tell who it was. The horse furiously rode in her direction, patches of earth sputtering upwards beneath the horse’s hooves. When the rider drew closer, she recognized Guy atop his white destrier, with Baudelaire clinging on behind him. Amberlie wondered why the two men shared the same horse, why they rode so furiously, why they were leaving the keep’s protection at sunset. Most probably they’d have ridden past her, but the dying sunlight reflected off the sapphire brooch on her mantle like blue fire and caught Guy’s eye. Instead of skirting past her, Guy turned the horse in her direction and halted the animal before her. With a vicious curse, he ordered Baudelaire off the horse, nearly pushing him to the ground in his haste.