Rhuddlan (68 page)

“Anything…” Haworth whispered eagerly.

“Take my message to Rhuddlan. Tell the
Bastard I have his wife and Delamere’s whore. Tell him he must pay
a heavy ransom to retrieve them and imply that in a fortress this
large unfortunate accidents are not uncommon.”

“But I thought we wanted to fight him!”
Haworth protested.

“We will, Roger! The ransom I have in mind is
far too rich for the Bastard. He won’t be able to pay it. He’ll
come here himself to tell me so and then he’ll attack Hawarden.” He
put his hand on Haworth’s shoulder. “Think of it, Roger! We’ll
finally have our revenge.”

It was impossible to think with the familiar,
comfortable weight of Hugh’s hand gripping his shoulder. A shiver
ran down his spine. “Of course I’ll go, my lord. I’m honored that
you choose me…”

His life, Hugh thought wearily, was suddenly
too complicated. Haworth was becoming suspicious, although he
seemed to have accepted the latest fabrication, and de Vire was
becoming too bold, although not yet where Haworth was concerned. He
wondered when he’d be able to get rid of Olwen and he couldn’t wait
to get rid of Teleri. To crown it all, his wife, whom he’d seen
only once since their return to Hawarden—an interview which had
reduced him to an ineffectual handful of jelly—was pregnant. Hugh
looked forward to a very long, drawn-out war with the Bastard, if
only to take his mind off personal matters.

Ralph de Vire was lounging in a cushioned
chair in the antechamber of Hugh’s suite when Hugh, unescorted,
arrived. He sprang to his feet, his handsome face creased with
frowns. “My lord, we must speak.”

An evening spent maintaining a polite
demeanor with Teleri, trying to digest her incredible accusation,
and then spinning lie upon lie to Haworth had not left Hugh in a
genial mood. He bristled. “We must?”

The sarcasm was wasted on de Vire. “Did you
see the way he looked at me?” he demanded. “He knows everything!
Did you hear him brag about his skill with the sword? He as much as
admitted he wants to murder me!”

“You’re imagining things…” Hugh said
irritably. He threw himself into the chair vacated by de Vire and
stared at the floor. He wondered what would be the best way to
confront Eleanor. The hopeful thought occurred to him that perhaps
Teleri had gotten it wrong and Eleanor wasn’t pregnant; after all,
there’d been no direct conversation between the two women. If only
he’d refused Teleri’s request that Olwen wait upon her…

De Vire’s feet were suddenly in his field of
vision and he glanced up involuntarily but the sharp retort on his
tongue slid back down his throat. The younger man’s expression was
so outraged that it prompted a surge of protective feeling in him.
Robert Bolsover had always been self-assured and aggressive and
Hugh had often felt in awe of his strong personality. Bolsover
hadn’t needed his protection, but de Vire was a different story and
Hugh was beginning to discover a certain pleasure in rising to the
occasion.

“Obviously you didn’t see his face!” de Vire
retorted. “Something must be done about him—I don’t want to have to
constantly look over my shoulder!”

“I’ve already done something, Ralph,” Hugh
said. “I’m sending him to Rhuddlan tomorrow. He’ll be gone for
days.”

“And when he returns? What then? If the
countess is with child, then he’ll expect your summons again. Where
will that leave me?”

“Don’t worry about that now, Ralph.” Hugh had
the uneasy feeling that de Vire, having sensed Hugh’s reliance on
him, was slowly starting to take advantage of their relationship
with his blunt demands, but he felt powerless to remonstrate. He
enjoyed making the younger man happy. “I’ll figure it out, I
promise.”

De Vire looked unconvinced. “You ought to
send him to one of your other properties. It would be kinder for
him not to be around…”

Reluctantly, Hugh said, “You may be right…”
Words de Vire had spoken suddenly reverberated in his head and he
gratefully realized he didn’t have to think now about Haworth. He
stood up and put his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “Forget
about Roger for the time being. Do me a favor and fetch my wife to
me. If she shows the slightest hesitation to come, you have my
permission to force her…”

Lying in bed but awake, Eleanor heard the
sudden pounding on her outer door with an emotion almost like
relief. Her servant, however, wasn’t as prepared; the girl had been
soundly asleep and jumped up from her pallet with a little scream.
She glanced apprehensively at her mistress, plainly afraid to
confront the intruder. Eleanor got out of bed, pulled a shawl over
her shoulders and slippers onto her feet and went out.

Ralph de Vire led her down the twisting
steps. The door leading to Hugh’s rooms stood open and while the
knight went straight in, she paused in the doorway. Hugh sat in the
antechamber, in a chair which faced the front of the room and he
was staring at her. She knew, of course, what the summons meant.
She’d been expecting it from the moment she’d told Olwen. Why had
she done it? She wasn’t certain unless it had been Olwen’s friendly
demeanor. Her servants and her guards were cold, either too
intimidated by or too respectful of Hugh to disobey his order to
not speak to her.

“My lord, she’s here,” de Vire said, reaching
out his arm to pull her across the threshold.

It was impossible to read his expression. She
watched him warily while around them de Vire talked until Hugh
interrupted him in a soft voice and asked him to leave. Although
Eleanor had warned herself all the way down to remain calm, the
thud of the closing door started her heart beating more quickly.
Her hands shook but she didn’t think Hugh could see them in the
shadowy candlelight. She concentrated on controlling her breathing,
well aware that her only weapon against him was an impassive
self-possession.

For a long time he said nothing. It was
impossible to return his steady gaze. When he finally spoke, she
jumped. “You,” he said in that same soft voice, “have something to
tell me.”

Her mouth was dry. “You already know, my
lord.”

“So, the bitch was telling the truth. Whose
is it?” When she didn’t answer right away, he suddenly lurched out
of his chair and shouted loudly enough to wake everyone in the
keep, “Whose!”

Eleanor couldn’t help herself; she was forced
backwards by the strength of his anger. She stammered, “Th—The
child is the heir to Chester.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Eleanor!”
he snapped. His abrupt silence after his loud outburst made her
glance at him. He was staring at her with more loathing on his face
than she’d ever seen, his blue eyes like ice chips. “It’s his,
isn’t it?” he said evenly. “The Bastard’s bastard.”

“I am the wife of the earl of Chester,”
Eleanor insisted nervously. “The child is yours; it isn’t a
bastard.”

He snorted. “Mine by
default? I don’t know if I like that…” She said nothing. He
considered her. “Does anyone else know? Does
he?
”

“No one knows.”

Again the considering silence. Then he said,
“What an adventure marriage to you has been. Disappearances and
reappearances. False identities. Kidnapping. And when I first saw
you, I thought you were such a dull thing. Quite unlike your
brother. You’re certain of this…pregnancy?” He made the word sound
almost distasteful.

“Yes.”

“And when can I expect to see it?”

“With the grace of God, January.”

“God?” He smirked. “Will God protect you from
some terrible misfortune?”

The remark angered her so much she forgot her
fright. She drew herself up; she was nearly as tall as he and she
saw the smug look on his face fade. She smiled thinly at him;
coldly and pityingly. “Your threats mean nothing to me, my lord,”
she said quietly in a voice no longer stammering or nervous. “Our
marriage hasn’t been an adventure but a nightmare. You made it your
business to ruthlessly exterminate everything and everyone who
brought me pleasure. But if you thought to grind me down, you
failed. I’m stronger now. I know what I’m capable of now. The last
three years were the happiest of my life and strangely enough, I
have you to thank for them. What you’re doing now, I look upon as a
test from God. I don’t quite understand why it’s necessary but I
accept it. Perhaps I loved my daughter too much. Perhaps that’s why
she had to be taken from me. And if you take this child from me as
well…so be it. I can’t stop you but I don’t have to. You’ll answer
for it in the end. I don’t know what kind of demon you are, my
lord, but I do know that in the end you will pay for everything
you’ve done…everything you’ve done…”

He sprang bolt upright in bed, drenched in
sweat, and tried to catch his breath. The room was eerily lit by
moonlight coming in through the unshuttered window and he looked
around at the familiar furnishings with relief. He wiped a hand
over his face and waited for his heart to stop pounding; the memory
of the nightmare was persistent but slowly ebbing.

Like a good soldier, Ralph de Vire awoke
almost simultaneously, instinctively sensing that something was
wrong. “Hugh?” he whispered. “What is it?”

“A bad dream, I think,” Hugh answered. His
voice sounded hoarse and he coughed to clear it. “Just a bad
dream.”

He felt a hand on his back. “You’re sopping
wet!” de Vire exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Yes…” But he was still breathing rapidly.
“Fetch a light; it’s too dark in here. Fetch a light!” he snapped
when de Vire was slow to move. He muttered, “I’ll be fine. I have
to get rid of her.”

“Who?”

“Who! My wife, of course! She cursed me. She
called me a demon!”

“It was only a dream, my lord—”

“Not in the dream, Ralph; during our
interview!” He shivered suddenly, the sweat turning cold on his
bare skin. “She said I would pay for what I’ve done to her.”

De Vire crossed the floor and went into the
antechamber but all the candles had been put out and the torches
doused. He had to go a few steps down the short hall to the alcove
where the garderobe was located and where the servants left a torch
burning all night. He plucked the torch out of its sconce and
brought it back to Hugh’s bedchamber, pausing at the window to find
the location of the nearly full moon and calculate the hours until
dawn. He yawned and turned around to face Hugh. “Where do you want
it?”

“On the near wall to me…”

He was sitting up in the bed, trying to shake
the terror of the dream he couldn’t clearly remember. The light
drove most of the shadows away but he was grateful for de Vire’s
company and his comforting.

De Vire returned to the bed. He pulled a
sheet over Hugh’s shoulders and fell back onto his pillow. “Taking
her out of Rhuddlan and restoring her to her title hardly seems a
reason to curse someone. And now she carries your child; God
willing, a son.” He yawned again. “I didn’t know you see her, Hugh.
In all the time I’ve been at Hawarden, I’ve never even heard you
mention her name. I’d forgotten she’s here!”

Hugh glanced back at him but his expression
was inscrutable in the pale light. His panic was momentarily gone.
Did nobody guess the truth? Or would everybody assume the baby was
truly his? “I haven’t seen her since you’ve been with me, Ralph,”
he said calmly. “Lady Teleri was right when she implied the
countess has been pregnant for some time; it must have happened
directly we returned from Rhuddlan.”

“Lord William would be bereft if he heard
this news,” de Vire said sleepily. “You can’t believe how he doted
on her…”

It was too dangerous, Hugh decided; she could
no longer remain at Hawarden. Better to put enough distance between
her and the Bastard that no one would ever link the two. Too many
people knew them in Gwynedd and they couldn’t all be as gullible as
Ralph de Vire. Besides, he wasn’t quite certain he trusted Eleanor
to keep her mouth shut.

Avranches in Normandy lay at
the extent of his properties. He had a small estate there called
Blundeville. The last time he’d visited it was during the
rebellion, right before the ill-fated siege at Dol. Yes, he
thought, it would do perfectly. It was far enough away from the
Bastard, far enough from Wales and, thankfully, far enough
from
him.

Down below, Roger of Haworth stared up at the
earl’s now-empty window. He stood motionless in shock and was only
remotely aware of his heart tightening in his chest. If someone had
asked him at that moment what he’d meant to do when he’d climbed
the steps to the motte only moments before, he would have been
hard-pressed to answer. It was to stay with him for the rest of his
life: that sudden flash of light in the window and Ralph de Vire’s
brightly lit face in its frame.

He left the next morning with three others.
If Hugh wondered at his lack of enthusiasm or reserve, he didn’t
comment on it, which was like rubbing salt into the wound. De Vire
was nowhere in evidence, which was lucky for him because Haworth
didn’t know if he’d be able to control his anger. He felt he was
treading a narrow line between normalcy and raging emotion. He
heard none of Hugh’s cheerful patter and couldn’t wait to leave the
suddenly strangling confines of the sprawling fortress.

It was lucky, too, that Haworth was the only
one, besides Hugh, of course, who knew the purpose of the journey.
This was to ensure that not even a hint of the truth find its way
to the ears of the hostages. The prattling bitch, Teleri, had
already shown herself adept at picking up gossip and it would have
been disastrous if she found out Hugh was only pretending to enjoy
her company while he waited eagerly for her husband to take the
bait. Immensely safer if Haworth’s companions weren’t told the
truth until they were well on their way.