Malia Martin (26 page)

T
he icy wind had hardened the muddy ruts beneath the wheels of the cart, making their journey difficult in the extreme. The frozen demeanor of the woman at his side did nothing to help. Robert grunted as the cart slammed over another stone, then nearly bit his tongue clear off when they bounced over a large hole in the road.

“My backside shall never be the same,” Berthilde grumbled from her place in the back of the cart.

Aleene did not make a sound. She steadied herself by holding to the plank upon which they sat, her knuckles white with the strain. Her face, though, showed nothing but an icy indifference.

He had tried over the last couple of days to speak to her as they made their slow way through the countryside. Aleene would not acknowledge him with even a nod. As they passed through several burned-out villages, she paid more attention to the few remaining
people, all sick and hungry. Aleene gave away their own meager provisions, then turned back to him, her face devoid of emotion. He thought he detected a hint of defiance glinting in her black eyes the first time she gave a poor woman some of their bread. But instead of trying to stop her, as he was sure she wished, Robert helped her disperse of their small hoard.

The first night they stopped, he had been able to kill a couple of rabbits. They had eaten one and saved the other to give to the hungry they knew they would encounter. Fortunately, Robert’s luck with his bow had held out, or they would have been weak with hunger now.

The first salty smell of ocean Robert caught was on the third day of their journey. He sat straighter, hoping it hadn’t been an illusion.

“Be home right soon now, my lord.” Berthilde nearly laughed from the back of the cart. “I can see that snout of yers pulling at the air like a dog after a bone.” She chuckled at her own words.

Robert couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. “Ah,” he sniffed mightily. “’Tis the best thing I’ve smelled in a long while.”

Beside him Aleene showed no reaction to their banter. He turned to her. “Aleene, do you smell your home?”

She blinked down her nose at him. “I smell the rotting stench of a Norman swine,” she said, then pinned her gaze on the track in front of them.

Robert let out a large sigh and flicked the reins over the ponies’ backs. He had hoped she might be ready to speak with him by the time they reached Seabreeze. Obviously, that was not to be the case. They journeyed on in silence except for the grunts Berthilde emitted when the wagon hit a particularly large rut.

The trees around them thinned finally, and they saw Pevensey before them. One of William’s ships sat anchored in the harbor, looming dark behind the small, quiet town. And the temporary fort William had built in the Roman ruins still sat upon the hill. No children rushed about them as they went through Pevensey. The quiet grated on Robert’s nerves as he snatched quick looks at Aleene out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but remember the day they had walked through the village, everyone boisterously happy and excited about the new lord of Seabreeze Castle. They were no longer thrilled with him Robert realized as he noticed accusing eyes watching him from out of darkened huts.

Clenching his teeth and facing forward, Robert took a deep breath and resolved again to make everything right. A daunting task, and probably completely unobtainable, but he would try. His loyalty still lay with William, and always would, for he had grown up with William. He understood William. But he had seen enough bloodshed. William had gotten what he wanted; now Robert needed to set his sights on his heart’s ambition. A home. Not because with it lay wealth and power, but because with it came love and happiness. Robert glanced over at the beauty at his side and tightened his grip on the reins. At least he hoped that love was still there. He hoped with all his heart he had not killed the only thing worthwhile in his life.

The men at the guard tower were his men. Anger clawed at her breath, forcing her to gulp air into her lungs. He looked over at her, and she sat very still, keeping all of the turmoil that roiled about inside of her from showing on her face. The gate opened slowly, and they rode in.

“We shall need supper, Berthilde.” Robert’s commanding voice sounded beside her,
startling Aleene.

“Yes, milord.” Berthilde bounded from the wagon as if she were twenty years younger and immediately began yelling orders at people.

“Take care of the ponies, Wat.” Robert handed the reins to one of her servants. “Nan, see Aleene to her chamber. Order hot water for her to bathe.”

Robert turned toward her. “Supper should be ready soon so that we might get rid of the hunger that has plagued me for days.” He smiled.

Without a word to him, Aleene slapped away the hand Nan offered to her and descended from the cart on her own, praying that her lungs would continue to draw air. She gazed quickly at the people gathered about. They looked back at her, hatred and pure animosity in every eye.

The little progress she had made after Tosig’s death was gone. Now, not only did her people think her unworthy of being the lady of Seabreeze, but clearly they thought her a traitor. With a deep breath, Aleene drew to her full height and began to make her way toward the great hall.

Like so many times before, Aleene had to cover her weakness with a show of strength. Only now she had to use so much more energy to find that strength.

She actually felt tears threaten the back of her eyes and burn her throat. Tears had never been a problem before. They had never been an option before. Aleene took a deep breath and cursed Robert. He had given her security and then taken it away, and that was harder by far than never having experienced such a feeling in the first place.

The people standing about parted before her like the Red Sea at Moses’ bidding and it reminded her of the day William had landed. That fateful, humiliating day when she had watched Cyne turn into Robert, then had been forced to hand over Seabreeze to the monster. How dare he do this to her again?

Twice he had ground her authority beneath his boot heel. Aleene squared her shoulders as she made her way quietly to her chamber. Passing his men at the entrance to the great hall, Aleene had to use all of her control not to spit on them. She looked at them, hoping that all of her hatred was clearly readable in her eyes, then went to her room and closed the door gently behind her. He would not win. For him to win meant death to her. She would not submit again to a man whose only history with her was hurt and deceit.

She waited for morning to mount her defense. At dawn, though, she went forth to stake her claim as lady of the castle. She found Berthilde in the kitchens. “Tell Cuthebert I wish to speak with him,” she said, then turned to the women working with Berthilde. “I shall supervise the women.”

Nan glanced up from her work near a steaming kettle. Her brows lifted in defiance, but she said nothing and went back to stirring with a long wooden stick.

Berthilde glanced from the women back to Aleene and shook her head.

“Now, Berthilde, go.”

Her old maid stared at her for a long moment then left.

Aleene took a deep breath, feeling with every nerve of her body the anger that emanated from the women around her. Again, she felt the fear that had controlled her every action the months after Tosig’s death. She hated to fear her people.

Just as she determined to say something, anything, something hit her from behind and she fell.

“‘scuse me.” Perry from the stables held a hand out to her. “Was carrin’ them rags in and
didn’t see you there.”

Aleene blinked at Perry’s outstretched hand, then back at the small mound of cloth at his feet. Not exactly a mountain of rags, definitely not enough to make it hard for the man to see where he was going. Aleene laid her own hand carefully in her servant’s. He pulled her roughly to her feet, then gathered the rags and continued through the large room. Aleene bit at the inside of her lip as she realized that Perry had forgotten to address her properly.

She stood a bit straighter and tried to dredge up her facade of courage. She pursed her lips and squinted about at the women who stood watching her.

Nan stood with a fist at her hip, a slight tilt to her lips. Hedwig’s brows were raised comically as she nudged the young girl next to her. Aleene heard a muffled snicker from behind her mingle with the soft roll of boiling water.

“Cuthebert awaits you in the hall, milady.” Berthilde interrupted the tense moment, bustling into the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll see to the cooking now.”

Aleene let her hard gaze fall upon each woman in the room before she nodded at Berthilde and left. She kept her head high as she made her way through the bailey. Cold, angry eyes turned in her direction as she walked; nudges, nods, and hissed words followed in her wake.

“Norman whore.”

She heard the softly heated words and stopped. When she turned, though, every head was bowed to a job, all hands were busy. Aleene searched the bailey with her gaze. “I am the lady of Seabreeze Castle. If any of you wish to forget that, you may leave this place!” She continued to look about her for a long moment, then turned on her heel and entered the hall.

“Cuthebert!”

Her steward looked up quickly from the ledgers spread before him. “’Tis busy I am, Lady Aleene, what do you wish to speak to me about?”

Aleene’s frustration grew stronger. “Cuthebert,” she said as she went to sit across from him. “I am the lady of this castle and if I wish for you to go catch frogs at the stream you will do it with pleasure!” The minute she said it, she knew that she shouldn’t have. Aleene sighed, but kept her back straight and her gaze upon the angry little man before her.

“Really,
Lady
Aleene, you would have me catch frogs rather than keep
your
castle running smoothly?”

Aleene leaned over the table. “I shall not tolerate another word of impertinence. Do you understand, Cuthebert?”

“
Impertinence?
And which word was
impertinent?
”

Aleene stood quickly. “You try my patience.”

Cuthebert did not even bother to look at her as he slowly gathered the ledgers from the table. Finally, he stood.

“From the strange death of Tosig to the way you broke your betrothal with our lord, Aethregard, you have brought nothing but tragedy to this place.”

Aleene swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat, for she did feel responsible for her people’s plight, for the downfall of England itself.

One of the women who had been sweeping up rushes paused in her work and looked over
at them. Aleene realized that she had to show her dominance, quickly.

Cuthebert continued before she could say anything, though. “’Twas not enough that you rid this keep of its beloved lord, but you had to fight his living wish that you marry his son, also.”

Aleene forgot all else but what Cuthebert had just implied. “What do you say, Cuthebert? Do you accuse me of murder, perhaps?”

His wiry, gray brows rose tauntingly. “I do not accuse. I know. You killed and you broke promises to wrest control of this holding.”

“Wrest control?” Aleene could barely contain her temper. “This castle has been mine since the day my mother died, you impertinent little twit. Seabreeze was never under the control of Tosig or his sniveling swine of a son.”

“But it should have been!” Cuthebert spit at her feet. “Look what has happened since you have controlled it!”

“What is this?”

Aleene was surprised the hall did not collapse about them at the force that the deep resonance of those words had as they rang through the room. She stiffened.

Cuthebert dropped his ledgers and blinked, startled.

“A bad taste in your mouth, Cuthebert?” Robert stalked around Aleene and grabbed the front of her steward’s tunic. “Did I not see you spit at your lady’s feet?”

Cuthebert finally showed signs of fear, which only made Aleene just that much angrier. That she needed a man to control her servants made her want to throw things.

“I . . . er,” Cuthebert glanced furtively at Aleene.

“He choked on a bone, Norman.” She gave Cuthebert a pointed glare before Robert turned toward her.

Her husband stared at her a moment. “Really?” He dropped Cuthebert, who had been standing on his tiptoes to avoid strangulation. As the man staggered backward, Robert turned his full attention on Aleene. “And he got it out with one spit?”

“Aye, he did.” Aleene watched Cuthebert gather his ledgers from the rushes and scurry
away. She had once been able to control the man. Even though he had shown his defiance in many of his actions, he had still never been as outspoken in his hatred as he had this day. Feeling wretched and defeated, Aleene closed her eyes and sighed.

“Aleene . . .”

“Leave me be, Norman.” She turned on her heel and went to her room. Aleene latched the door, sat in her father’s chair, and contemplated her defeat. She had spent months trying to gain the respect of her people after Tosig’s death. They had resisted her. They whispered terrible things about her: that she had killed Tosig, that she was a hated foreigner, that she had no heart. But still she had worked, and at least gotten them to obey her, though she trembled inside with each order, sure it would be at that moment one of them would defy her.

And now she would have to start from the beginning, even before the beginning. For this time her people were not even trying to hide their disrespect. Aleene bowed her head. She did not think she had the strength to try anymore.

She stayed in her room for three days, refusing the baths Berthilde tried to bring her and ordering her food brought to her on a tray. On the third day, as she sat in the gloom of the oncoming night with no candles to light, she heard a knock at her door.

“Aleene.”

It was him. The traitor.

“Aleene, I wish to speak with you.”

“If you think to share my bed, Norman, you invite maiming.”

There was a long silence, and Aleene relaxed her tense shoulders. A tremendous crash made her jump backwards as the wooden latch on her door splintered. The leather hinges squealed a protest as Robert threw open her door.