Seize The Dawn (20 page)

"Thank God, then, that you took the lady into your care." "Aye, thank God," Eric murmured solemnly, but his irony was not lost on Brendan. "He has taken and hidden many great prizes throughout the years, and he is willing to give these all to your greater glory," Wallace said. "And to my coffers, emptied by warfare?" Philip inquired wryly. "Precisely," Brendan said. Wallace lifted his hands. "We all know that war is costly."

"I will take the matter of de Longueville into deep thought, but he seems a worthy man to receive forgiveness from his king. You must be weary. Take your leisure for the night. Tomorrow evening, we will celebrate the betrothal of de Lacville and his lady. You will, of course, attend?" "Naturally," Wallace said. ' 'Your Grace,'' Brendan said, leaning forward quickly before they were dismissed, "I would have a word with Count de Lacville, if I may." "He is eternally grateful, owing a debt of gratitude to the lady's father, as well, I believe," the king said. "He intends to thank you—" "It isn't his thanks I seek—" "I'm sure he intends a magnificent reward—" "Nor a reward—" "We will take a reward," Wallace interrupted sternly. "Warfare is expensive," Eric reminded politely. "I simply crave a word with him." "You'll find him in the knights' hall, the blue chamber," Philip advised, "for whatever matter lies between you." "Aye," Wallace said, eyeing him sternly, grinding his teeth.

"Do you care to divulge what affair this is?" "I fear for the lady, that is all, your Grace," Brendan said. He thought that Wallace audibly sighed, and he wondered if his mentor hadn't been afraid that he had gone entirely mad, and meant to bare his heart and soul to the lady's would-be husband. "The pirate swears he was paid in the port of Liverpool to find the lady, and see that she did not reach France, nor return to England."

"The English! Ever devious," Philip said, relishing the evil of his enemies. "But do you think it's true?" "If so, I fear the danger." "I ask again, would the pirate have harmed her?" Philip demanded. "Your Grace, the pirate is a businessman. I believe he willingly pocketed the money paid him, with the full intent to simply ask de Lacville for an even greater ransom."

"Good business is not a sin," Philip murmured, "while the English ... Go, and tell my friend de Lacville of this, and warn him he must guard his lady most carefully."

"That
is, indeed, my intent," Brendan said.

Alain de Lacville was a man Brendan both liked and admired. They had first met on the field of battle, when he had arrived with Wallace, following the loss at Falkirk. William, despite his passionate belief that one day the people
and
the nobles of Scotland would rise in union against the English, was a realist.

Realizing his army was lost, he had immediately turned to ancient allies for support. In France, there had been no better way to cultivate the good will of the French king than to take up arms with him against the English.

De Lacville had been leading French troops as they stormed a fortification. Brendan had seen a weakness in a wall, and the French count had been more than willing to listen to the plans of others. Brendan had led a surge against the weak point, and they had prevailed. He and de Lacville had gained an instant recognition of one another at that time. He felt a fondness for the old knight, injured a dozen times over, loyal, courteous, pious, and never lacking in courage. His quest to warn de Lacville of the danger Eleanor did not accept as very real was important to him, yet as well, he was earnest to see the man.

To assure himself that de Lacville's age and injuries would keep him from being a husband as well? he queried himself as he traversed the halls of the palace. Aye, that as well. He had been a fool. He had known from the beginning the ultimate end of this relationship. The burning he felt now was an anguish he had brought upon himself. There was no other way for this to finish. If he were to attempt to abduct the lady, he'd be quickly arrested and most probably beheaded. He would destroy his own people, destroy Wallace, everything they had fought for, died for. He had vowed himself that he would never cease to fight—until Scotland was free.

Nor did he have the right, for Eleanor's own cause was determined. She meant to marry de Lacville; she was a countess, and strongly passionate for her own land. He had no right to interfere with her desire to uphold her betrothal, and live the life of a noblewoman in her home—ravaged by his people.

De Lacville was stepping from his room as Brendan arrived, but the old man was quick to greet him with an embrace and words of gratitude.

"I am in your debt, and of course, sir, plan to make what earthly compensation I can!" de Lacville told him, encouraging him to enter, and join him for wine from his own estates. Brendan did so politely, sipping the wine, but he was beginning to get a headache; he longed for a long swallow of cool ale from his homeland.

"What compensation you would make, sir, is not necessary, but I have been informed by my fellow outlawed and impoverished Scots that on behalf of my country, I am to accept it."

"It will be given in the best spirit," de Lacville assured him.

The count's apartment at the palace was rich. Tapestried, warm, with a great hearth of stone and marble, and a long window, covered now, but which must look out on the great cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. The coverings on the bed were fine, embroidered with infinite detail. He looked away.

"I didn't come here for reward, sir—"

"You would not do so."

"Thank you for that assessment of my character, sir, but apparently, we are all willing to accept a price for our goals. But I have come because I think you should speak with the pirate, Thomas de Longueville, after he has made his peace with King Philip."

"Oh?" The sharpness of his tone suggested that he was suspicious of the pirate—and ready to do battle with die rogue if he had harmed Eleanor.

"No, Alain, it is nothing evil he has done. But he came to us with a stray about being accosted in Liverpool before he sailed."

"Thomas de Longueville was in Liverpool?"

"Sir, Longshanks might be a king with a wicked sword against his enemies, but no ruler is so great as to wipe out the bands of sea-raiders. There are many places at such a port where a man pays his way, and no questions are asked. Aye, it's easy enough for any pirate with means to find a good tavern in Liverpool."

"Go on."

"He was approached by someone who paid him to seek out Lady Eleanor's ship, to abduct her, and see that she didn't return to England."

"He's certain?"

"So he says."

De Lacville shook his head. "The man to benefit from her disappearance would be her cousin, Alfred of Clarin. But he is the man who first approached me, since he had sworn to my lady's father to see her safely wed." He cleared his throat. "I would not have been my own first choice for Eleanor—I was an old man when I first held her upon my lap when she was a babe. But I know her, and the situation, and in honor of her father, I am delighted to give whatever aid, shelter, and strength I can offer to the lady."

"She is a beautiful woman, sir, loyal to you," Brendan heard himself say. She was loyal, and fierce in de Lacville's defense.

"I promise you that I will return to England with the lady, and I will use all my resources to discover what evil may be afoot."

"Then I will rest assured that she is safe in your care, sir."

"Naturally."

Eleanor met only briefly with the king of France that day, and she well understood the description "Philip the Fair." He was a handsome man. She met him in family chambers with his wife, Jeanne, and his children, and she was introduced to the young Isabelle, who was betrothed to the king of England's son and would one day be queen of England. Also present were Louis, who would be king after his father, and young Philip and Charles, his brothers.

Queen Jeanne was kind, making Eleanor welcome, and telling her what esteem Count de Lacville received from them all. She was also intrigued to hear about the high seas adventures, curious about Thomas de Longueville, and concerned, because, apparently, the Scots had informed the king about the pirate's story that someone had paid for her capture.

"Apparently Brendan ... Sir Brendan ... believes that my family must be guilty. He is mistaken. They were eager for my marriage and my happiness. I'm afraid that what they fail to realize is that I'm considered something of a pariah to their people—I was at Falkirk. A figurehead, imagined to be far more than I am. But there is a hatred that runs deep between he two peoples, and I think it not unlikely that a Scotsman with means—perhaps the relative of a fallen hero at Falkirk— would gladly see my demise."

Eleanor hesitated. "Wars create faceless enemies. We hate l people we don't know. Then, of course, we discover that men and women are universal, and that it is easy to hate a faceless name, and not so easy to despise individuals. It's true s well that the Scots were happy to rescue me, for the ransom e Longueville would have demanded became a reward the cots could claim."

"Such is the world, my dear," the queen told her. "But all are happy now. You are here, Count de Lacville is here, and the marriage will take place quickly, so that none can doubt that you stand with a wealthy and powerful baron, and cannot be taken lightly."

"Of course."

She spent that evening dining alone with Alain. He had ordered a meal in her rooms at the palace. She tried to be casual, to speak about France, her enjoyment of the country, the kindness of the people.

"Do you know what the English have done as well? A Berwick, where the king himself was present, he only stopped< the slaughter when a woman bore a child as she was being slain."

She feared the telltale rush of blood to her features, an wondered for a moment what Brendan might have said to him But then, she knew that Brendan would have said nothing made no admissions; the choice to make a confession would be her own.

"I believe you are the same age as King Edward, who has recently taken a sixteen-year-old bride, sister to the king of France."

She fell silent, uneasy, but then he smiled. ' 'In a few hours, we'll say our vows. When that occurs, I will accept nothing less than your complete loyalty."

"Understand? No, of course not. I am not just old, Eleanor, but ravished by poxes. I bear up well in public, and this, of course, is a secret you will take to your grave. I am incapable of being a true husband."

He paused for a moment, watching her. She was appalled by the joy she felt in her own heart. She had meant to be the best wife to him she could be, but she had abhorred the idea !of being with him. Not because it was he, she realized. She simply wanted to be with no one else other than ...

Her enemy.

"At best," Alain continued, "I will have a few years to give you. But I hope in that time I will give you what you need; the means to rebuild your Clarin, to take control, to choose, at a later date, the husband you will take in the future."