Rose of Hope (53 page)

A clamor broke out, filling the hall. Roul whooped and ran to Fauques. The two hammered each other on the back and then sped out the hall’s doors with a handful of others to spread this wonderful new gossip.

Fallard grinned. With the squires squeaking like overlarge mice, the news would spread like spilled wine.

Congratulations poured from those present. One of his knights began banging his tankard on the table. “Fallard!”

With each metallic bang, the rest of the men, knights and hearth companions alike, took up the refrain until the hall fairly rocked with the noise. “Fallard! Fallard! Fallard! Fallard!”

Ere long, a minor celebration was taking place in the hall, with laughter and new rounds of ale and impromptu dancing and shouts of good wishes to the happy couple. Fallard kept Ysane close to his side, but she, with an eye to the long hours ere sup, continued to eat with dainty greed.

Into the midst of the revelry strode Domnall, an unknown soldier at his side. Fallard sat straight, all gaiety stilled. The stranger’s tunic bore William’s crest. A frisson raced down Fallard’s spine as he eyed the man. Missives from the king were rarely good news.

Domnall made his way to Ysane. Fallard leaned out of the way as the first marshal caught her up in a hug that left her breathless, kissed her forehead and then said something in her ear that brought fresh blood to her cheeks and startled laughter to her lips.

Then he turned to Fallard, grasping his wrist in a hard clasp. “My lord D’Auvrecher! ’Tis happy news we hear this day.” His hazel eyes laughed and he leaned close. “Proud of yourself, are you then, man?”

He clapped Fallard on the back so hard ale flew out of his tankard to splash on the table.

Fallard scowled at his overly presumptuous first marshal. “Aye, Domnall, proud I am, and pleased with my lady wife. But who is this you bring into my hall?”

“Oh, aye. Almost forgot, I did, what with all the merriment.” He turned to the stranger and handed him a newly filled tankard. “Drink to the lord and his lady first, then speak your tidings.”

The man smiled and upended his ale, downing it in one long pull, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Lord D’Auvrecher? I am Geoffroi. Good wishes to you, my lord, from myself for your good news, and also from the king, and to you, my lady.”

He offered a bow to Ysane.

“Our thanks,” Fallard said. “But I bid you speak.”

“I bear orders from the king, my lord,” Geoffroi said. “But they are to be given to you alone, in private.”

***

Fallard led the way to the hoarding room and waited while tankards were refreshed and a meal was brought for Geoffroi. When they were alone, the messenger brought out the roll of parchment from inside his tunic and handed it over.

Fallard read it while the man ate, his annoyance growing with every word. William, it seemed, held him responsible for the plundering by the rebels around London, since he had merely chased them away from Wulfsinraed, rather than destroying them. Thus, the letter informed him, ’twas the king’s charge that he hie immediately and with all haste to London with a full contingent of his knights and hearth companions. There, he was to take command of the effort to rout the blackguards and eliminate the threat permanently. The tenor of the letter left no doubt that while the words were somewhat facetious, William’s intent was in deadly earnest.

But when Fallard read the next portion of William’s commands, he came out of his seat with a roar. The messenger dropped his food, lunged to his feet and half-drew his sword, his eyes seeking for the enemy his host clearly prepared to face.

Fallard ignored him and strode to the door, his anger fear-fed and escalating. He yanked it open so hard it crashed against the wall and bounced back, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stepped out onto the landing and yelled in blistering terms for Domnall and Trifine to be brought to him at once.

Domnall, who had been enjoying a second meal, but had leapt to his feet at his lord’s cry, was already at the base of the stairs. He took the steps two at time to halt in front of Fallard, his eyes searching for the danger. “My lord, what is amiss?”

“Come!” Fallard turned back into the hoarding room and dismissed Geoffroi, whose face expressed his gratitude to be allowed out of harm’s way.

Fallard paced the chamber, his rage lashing in silent futility. Domnall said not a word, but sheathed his sword, seated himself and waited.

The half-open door pushed wide and Trifine sauntered in. Fallard took in his First’s easy stance and grunted. Trifine knew him too well, was prepared from long experience to let the blast flow over and around him. He too, took a seat and waited without a word.

Fallard continued to pace, so angry he could not yet speak.

“Fallard?”

The small, uncertain voice stopped him in his tracks. “Ysane! My rose, what do you here? ’Tis no place for a woman.”

She drew herself to her full, unimpressive stature. “I was concerned for you, my lord. Your…vocal response to the missive was quite…eloquent. But I see you are undamaged and in no danger. I will thus remove myself from this place where a mere
woman
should not be.”

“Ysane!”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

Fallard sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then crossed to her. His gaze bored into hers. “Forgive me, wife. ’Tis …difficult. I will apprise you of that which you should know but for now, I must needs speak with my captains. Will you wait?”

Her expression softened. She nodded and returned to the hall.

He watched the sweet sway of her hips until she was out of sight, closed and barred the door and then faced his captains. He let fly with a round of creative expressions, none of which were curses but which eloquently expressed his frustration. Trifine’s left eyebrow rose while Domnall leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“William holds me to blame for the carnage the rebels unleash around London,” he finally said. “I am to hie there, posthaste, with a full contingent of troops and take command of the mission to rout them.” He started to pace again. “’Tis almost as if, after the treachery of Kenrick Wulfsingas and Renouf of Sebfeld, William doubts even my loyalty!”

“Nay, my lord,” Domnall said. “The word among the troops of Witham is that you obeyed the king’s command and forced the rebels to scatter. Does he believe you at fault they chose to re-gather elsewhere?”

Fallard’s frown became a grimace. “’Twould seem he does, though that part of his original orders were somewhat ambiguous.” His pacing finally came to a halt. “There is worse.” He swallowed. “One part of my instructions was quite clear. Upon arrival at Wulfsinraed, were I to discover Ysane was involved with the rebellion, I was to sever that involvement by whatever means necessary, even did it mean her interment in whatever prison facilities were available here. William seems to believe I have failed in the execution of that duty.

“Despite all my assurances, he still believes Ysane involved with the rebels. He says a Saxon soldier was captured, admitted to being a rebel and identified Ysane, by name, as the link between Wulfsinraed and the rebel leadership. I am to bring her with me to London where she is to stand trial. Do they find her guilty, the court will seek to what extent. Do they decide she was coerced into helping the rebels, she will be incarcerated for life at Kensington Abbey. If ’tis found she willingly aided them, she is to be wedded to de Pardieu. Either way, our marriage is to be dissolved.”

“de Pardieu!” Trifine jerked to his feet, his nonchalance disappearing in a spate of words almost as virulent as his captain’s. “What infamy is this? That man is a perverted beast, worse even than Renouf of Sebfeld. He has already put aside one rich wife and buried three others, and while few would say it to his face, all believe he killed them. Ysane would last not a seven-day in his vile hands. ’Twould have been kinder to let her throat be slit the day we took this burh.”

“Think you I know that not? Deterrence is the purpose of public executions, but William is unwilling to have the beautiful daughter of a former high-ranking, wealthy Saxon nobleman put to death in a public venue. He has enough trouble with what’s left of the Saxon leadership and to execute Ysane would cause only more. But I know his mind. He believes marriage to de Pardieu a death sentence, and with Ysane, he would be correct.”

He shuddered at thought of his delicate rose in the company of a man such as de Pardieu, and even more so now she carried his child.

The rage in Domnall’s gaze and the frustrated sympathy in Trifine’s nigh undid him. He slammed his fist against the table so hard the massive furnishing vibrated. “I must find a way to prove Ysane is not involved, willingly or otherwise, with the rebels, but I have no time! I am to leave for London within a half-day of the delivery of the missive.”

“Fallard, William knows not Ysane bears your child.”

Fallard’s head snapped up at Trifine’s quiet comment. “What mean you?”

“She can be not given to another so long as she carries your babe. ’Tis the law. Use it.”

Relief flooded Fallard. “Aye, ’tis truth. So crazed are my thoughts I considered it not.” Fearing his legs would not support him, he jerked out a chair and sat. “She would still be imprisoned in the abbey, but she would be safe, at least until after the birth.”

“Then we have seven months…,” Domnall began.

“Six,” Fallard said.

“Aye,
six
months to find the evidence we need.”

“And we will find it,” Trifine said. “To that, I give my word. Enough proof to still even William’s most paranoid fancies.”

Fallard looked into the eyes of his oldest and newest captains, seeking hope, any hope. He found it. “My thanks, my friends. Ysane is….”

“Aye, Captain.”

“’Tis understood, my lord.”

“Another possibility arises here, Fallard.” Trifine filled a tankard and handed it to his captain, then drew another for Domnall and himself. “I have thought much on past treacheries by Ruald, and of the slave Leda’s possible role with the rebels. Despite our watchfulness, we can find no certain evidence to link her with them, and you are reluctant to punish her without that proof.

“As you know, I was raised at court. ’Tis no immodest claim on my part to state my experience with the various wiles practiced by females is more…extensive than yours. The type of treachery I now have in mind is that which might first take root in the heart of a woman such as Leda.”

“Go on,” Fallard said.

“We have received no word, one way or the other, that your messages—in truth, that any messages—have reached William from Wulfsinraed. Even in this missive, William offers no acknowledgement of receipt of the communications we have sent, and none of our couriers have returned, though there has been time for most to do so. We have been so preoccupied with events, none of us has taken time to think through what that might mean.” Trifine looked straight at Fallard and said, his voice soft, “Mayhap, Fallard, our dispatches were intercepted, and
others
substituted in their place.”

“Saint’s toes!” Fallard breathed, getting to his feet. “Aye!” He said then, spitting the word out. “Aye, that would bring William’s wrath down upon us all. We are fortunate our king is not one to believe whatever tale he may be told and act accordingly, without first giving the accused a chance to prove the falsehood.”

“Aye, William is a hard man, but just, in especial where a favored one, such as yourself, is concerned, Fallard. He knows your loyalty. He would wait to hear your side.”

Fallard swore again and half leaned, half sat on the table edge. He sighed heavily. “You are right. That is exactly what he does. He calls me to his side, and Ysane is caught in the middle. Bah! A fool I have been. All my defenses and safeguards were to defend against Ruald’s treachery
here
. It came never to my thought he might take the offensive in such a way, and with William.”

His companions said naught, for there was naught to reply. None of them had forethought of treachery so sly.

He began to pace again. “Would that I could find a way to bring the rebels to
me
, rather than journey to London.”

In light of William’s order, he wanted badly to drag Leda to the interrogation pit and force the truth from her, not only of involvement with the rebels, but with the attempts on the life of his wife. He had stayed his hand so far because he had no clear evidence of wrong-doing, and because a slave had no rights or protections save those given by their masters. ’Twas not his way to offer hurt to those with no means of defense. But mayhap, ’twas time to set aside that way. He could ill afford the noble ideals of kindness and mercy if the life of the woman he loved depended upon their absence.

But even as he thought it, his mind shied away from inflicting torment on a woman. Yet, he would trade Leda’s life for that of Ysane’s without a moment’s hesitation. He walked to the window and looked out upon the orchard. His gaze followed the road to the cool courtyard of the chapel. Suddenly, he smiled, but mirth played no part in the stretching of his lips. Mayhap, there was a way to learn of Ruald’s intent from the girl without physically damaging her.

He turned back to his captains. “Follow my lead.”

He gave no indication of his intent as they trailed him into the hall.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“Trifine, bring the slave Leda to me!” Fallard ordered. His tone harked of deadly menace. “Tell Harold to bring the key to the interrogation pit…and Trifine? Bid him bring the box we recently removed.”

Domnall and Trifine exchanged a glance. Trifine nodded and moved to obey.

“Fallard, what is happening?” Ysane’s voice was anxious.

“’Tis naught to worry you, my love,” Fallard said, softening his voice as he turned to her. He pulled her into his arms and held her close while he rested his cheek on the top of her head. Then he released her and stepped away, not meeting her eyes. “Go to our bower and don your headrail. I would have you visit the village. Find there tasks befitting the lady of the hall. Come not home until I send for you. And Ysane, bring my gloves.”