Authors: Iris Johansen
“Not enough.”
“A barony,” he said reluctantly. He had been hoping the damned merchant would be content without being lifted to the ranks of the elite of the land. “But not here. England. There will be land and honors aplenty when we defeat the Saxons.”
“My choice of property?”
“You ask a great deal.”
“So do you. According to what I’ve heard, you’ve offered these Saxons’ lands to every mercenary and noble in Normandy. There may not be sufficient to go
around, and I will not wait to be given my reward at your discretion.”
“I’m not sure you would be entirely comfortable with knighthood,” William said coldly. “You clearly have been taught to whine and barter like your tradesman grandfather.”
“You’re only half mistaken. My grandfather never whined but he was magnificent at the art of bartering.” He paused. “A quality necessary in a ruler as well as a merchant.”
William grimaced as he realized his thrust had been turned aside. He was extremely sensitive about his own tanner grandfather and had hoped to spark a resentment that might enable him to get the upper hand over this rogue. He studied him, seeking another weakness.
He saw none. The giant before him had the confidence of a royal combined with a brilliant mind that had allowed him to amass the fortune that had won him a unique place in Norman society. William had heard that while Dumont was with Hardraada’s raiding parties he was reputed to have been as ruthless in war as he later became in the trade. William might be able to break him but he would not bend. “Very well. Your choice of property.”
Dumont straightened away from the balustrade. “I’ll consider it.” He bowed. “Good night, your grace.”
“You’ll
consider
it?” William said, outraged. “I want an answer now.”
“I’ll send you word in two days’ time.” Dumont moved toward the door. “My ‘tradesman’ grandfather also taught me never to accept a bargain without first examining it from all sides.”
William smothered his anger. He would need every possible advantage when he launched his invasion, and Dumont’s fighting force was truly formidable. “I will wait two days and no more. Don’t think to play games with me.”
“I don’t play games. I leave that to the lords and ladies of your illustrious court.”
“Oh, one more thing,” William said. “If you decide to accept my offer, you must leave the Saracen here in France.”
Gage’s expression did not change. “You are speaking of Malik Kalar?”
“If that is his name. The Saracen who travels with you. I’m hoping to get the Pope’s approval on this invasion and I will not have him offended by a Saracen in my ranks.”
“
If
I choose to join you, Malik will most certainly accompany me. Resign yourself to that fact.” He turned on his heel and left the chamber.
Stubborn, arrogant whoreson. The rest of the world might wonder, but William had no doubt the man who had just departed was that Viking devil’s son. When he had summoned Dumont he had expected to be able to manipulate and control him, but now he was not sure who had been triumphant during this interview.
“Matilda!”
His wife opened the door of the antechamber, where William had stationed her with the door slightly ajar. He valued her judgment more than any of his nobles and often had her listen and watch when he had a meeting. “Well?”
“An interesting man.” She came forward—tiny, sturdy, indomitable. “And every bit as comely as I’d heard from Lady Genevieve.” She smiled slyly. “She says he’s as vigorous in bed as a stallion and knows many exotic ways to please a lady. Now I can believe she spoke truly. He certainly appears to have a certain … power.”
Comely? The man was big as a mountain, rough-featured, and had no claim to any comeliness that he could see. Matilda must be trying to spark his jealousy again. She knew it was an easy task and constantly
stirred it as a way to keep his interest strong. She succeeded admirably; even after these many years of marriage their union was as ardent as the day they had wed. “
Merde
, I didn’t ask you to assess his virility but his character.”
She shrugged. “Clever, hard, guarded … hungry.”
“Hungry? You mean ambitious?”
“Perhaps …” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to define that vague quality she had sensed in Dumont. Then she shrugged. “Hungry.”
“Did he take the bait? He must know Hardraada also wants the English throne. Will he take his forces to Norway and offer them to his father?”
“I think not.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I sensed a certain bitterness.… There is little affection there. However, he may decide to stay here in Normandy and gobble up the fiefs that are left behind instead of chancing defeat in England. As I said, I judge him to be a very clever man.”
William shook his head. “If he stays, he remains a wealthy merchant who can only pull the strings behind the scenes. He has no liking for being scorned by my nobles. I’d wager he’ll pay my price to stand on equal ground with them.”
“Then why did you ask my opinion, if you’d already made up your mind?” Matilda asked tartly. “I have better things to do with my time than listen at doors in the dead of night.”
He moved at once to soothe her. No one could make life more unpleasant than Matilda in a fury. “You know I always value your opinion.” He changed the subject as he slipped his arms about her. “Except as regards the man’s capability as a stallion. Admit it, you merely said that to annoy me. The man has no attraction for you.”
Matilda opened her lips to reply and then thought
better of it as she caught the slight frown on his face. She reached up and gently stroked her husband’s cheek. “How very wise you are, my love. I was but teasing you a trifle. Of course I do not find this Gage Dumont in the least attractive.”
“You’ve been a long time.” Malik didn’t turn around from his position at the open window as Gage strode into his chamber at Bellerieve. “Did he offer you the entire world, or just a part of it?”
“Knighthood, a barony, the property of my choice in England.” Gage moved to stand beside him. “He seemed to think he was being very generous.”
“But you do not.” Malik still didn’t look away from the comet. “Do you not trust him?”
“He summons me to his presence near midnight so that his barons will not know he’s dealing with me. He threatens to take Bellerieve if I don’t give him what he wants. Should I trust him?”
Malik did not answer.
“And why should I take the chance? I have everything I could want or need here.” His gaze went around the chamber, taking in an exquisitely crafted golden elephant on the table, the magnificent tapestry portraying a lion hunt in the desert gracing the far wall. He had made sure every corner of the castle brimmed with finely carved furniture and ornaments of gold and silver and ivory. When he had furnished Bellerieve he had tried to emulate the luxury and beauty of the palaces he had visited in Byzantium rather than the sparse comforts of the manors of Normandy or his father’s hall in Norway.
“Not everything,” Malik said. “Here you must fight for respect and to keep what is yours.”
“England would probably be the same. Only I would have to fight the Saxons as well as my Norman brothers. Yes, I should stay here.”
“But you will not.” Malik smiled. “You are a man
who was born to rule, and England is a step in that direction.”
“A barony is not a kingdom.” He raised his brows. “Or do you believe I intend to overthrow William?”
“It is a possibility.”
Gage did not deny the thought had occurred to him. At times the slights and rejections he received goaded him to the point where he was tempted to ride roughshod straight to the throne. “I’m a rich man, but it would take the wealth of Solomon to gain support enough to oust William.”
“True. Ah, but you will still go. You’ve grown too restless in the past year. You’re a man who must always have a new mountain to conquer and William’s knights are not enough to challenge you. If it was not England, it would be Byzantium.” Malik gave a mock shudder. “Or that cold land to the north again.”
“You need not worry. It will not be Norway.” His lips suddenly twitched. “And it cannot be Byzantium if I’m to continue to be honored with your company. I believe the sentence was to be castration and then beheading?”
“Do not remind me of that idiocy. As if castration were not enough indignity, they would take away my power of reasoning. They truly wished to destroy me.” He sighed resignedly. “But such is the fate of those granted the gifts of the Almighty. A man with my brilliance and hunger for knowledge always has enemies seeking to bring him down.”
“I believe it was the hunger of your nether parts that brought you down. The beheading was just an afterthought. I’ve never understood why you chose the wife of the head of the Imperial Guard to seduce.”
“She needed me,” he said simply. “Her brute of a husband was cruel to her.”
Gage shook his head. Malik’s words did not surprise him. A woman need not be young or even comely to
earn a place in the rascal’s bed; he loved them all. He appeared to enjoy every woman with equal passionate enthusiasm, and they certainly enjoyed Malik.
“I wonder how she is.” Malik frowned. “Perhaps we should return to Karza and—”
“No,” Gage said firmly. Though they had barely escaped from Byzantium with skin intact, Malik had insisted on taking the woman with them and escorting her safely back to her village. “She’s fine. I left enough gold to give her a chance to make a fine life for herself. She does not need you.”
“You are probably right. I must give her a chance to find a lesser man to satisfy her.” He waved his hand at the comet. “I am like that comet that dims everything else in the heavens with its splendor.”
Gage snorted. “It would make my life easier if you would shine a little less brightly and with far less frequency.”
Malik turned, a grin lighting his bearded face. “But you do not need an easier life. I provide you with both entertainment and challenge. That is why you chose me for a friend.”
“I was wondering why I burdened myself with such a scalawag.”
“Why did you not ask me? You know how wise I am.”
“I know how arrogant you are.”
“Like to like. I have not heard you described as being either shy or modest. So, do we go to this England?”
“I’ve not decided.”
“I think you have.”
“If I go, William says I must leave you here. He’s afraid that your heathen soul may corrupt his holy expedition and bring down the wrath of heaven.”
“Did you tell him I’m a warrior without equal and could vanquish these Saxons even without his army?”
He struck his chest with his fist. “That they would run like sheep from my mighty sword? That they would cover their eyes with terror when they saw me draw aim with my bow? That they would cower and tremble when I rode over them on my giant steed?”
“No, but I told him you would have no problem blowing them off their feet with boastful words.”
Malik shook his head mournfully. “You strike me to the heart. To know me so long and not realize my true worth.”
“How could I help but realize it when you keep me apprised of your infinite value every minute of the day?”
“Well, it keeps growing. I would not have you ill informed.” He looked away from Gage and said quietly, “If it will save trouble, I will stay at Bellerieve.”
“And let William dictate to me?”
“He rules Normandy.”
“He needs me. I do not need him. If I go, you will go with me.” He grimaced. “There’s no telling what mischief you’ll bestir if I leave you here alone.”
“And you will miss my company. How could you help it?” Malik’s expression suddenly sobered as he glanced back up at the sky. “Perhaps I should stay here,” he murmured. “I have a feeling that a bad thing awaits me across that sea.”
“You see it written on the heavens?” Gage asked caustically. “Good God, are you also robbed of reason by the appearance of that infernal comet?”
“If reason does not explain, then we must rely on what we feel is true.”
“Or imagine.” He smiled sardonically. “Or twist to suit ourselves.”
“What a cynic you are,” Malik said. “You believe in nothing.”
“Not on this earth. No, that’s not true. I believe in what I am and what you are. I believe in what I can see and hear and touch.” His gaze followed Malik’s to the
comet. “And I believe you’re seeing what you want to see just as William did. If you don’t wish to go with me, say it. I will not quarrel with you.”
Malik was silent a moment. “I will go. What will be, will be.” A sudden grin lit his face. “But you must promise I will not die by the hands of those barbarians. It would not be a fitting end to such a glorious career.”
Gage smiled. “I promise.”
“Good.” Malik moved across the room toward the door. “And now that you have decided to cast us upon the bloody shores of war, I feel I must indulge in the joys of life. I have a lovely damsel who has been waiting in my chamber for the past three hours.”
“She may not still be there. Ladies do not like to wait.”
“She will be there. She is curious. She wants to see if a Saracen is truly heathen in the physical as well as the spirit.” He paused at the door. “It is Lady Genevieve. You said you did not mind?”
Gage shrugged. “Why do you ask? We’ve shared women before. You’re right, she is curious.” He and Malik had encountered many noblewomen both there and in Byzantium who had sought to liven their boredom by daring to secretly venture into the forbidden fringes where outcasts dwelled. Genevieve had been more entertaining than most, but Gage did not fool himself into thinking she had any more affection for him than he did for her. “And very inventive. You’ll enjoy her.”
“If you need a woman, she hinted she would not be averse to both of us in her bed.”
“Not tonight.”
Malik still hesitated, studying him. “Are you troubled? Do you need to talk? I will stay.”
“And keep her waiting even longer?”
“I will keep her waiting forever if you have need of
me. Friendship is far more rewarding than the joys of the flesh.”
“Not on an immediate basis.” He smiled affectionately and said gruffly, “Go on. I will see you in the morning.”