Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (30 page)

It galled Ian to leave Lily with Llywelyn, but he tried to console himself with the fact that at least she should be safe there. As long as he believed she would be safe, he could concentrate all his attention on trying to gain what concessions he could for Wales.

He found the thought of traveling all the way to London terrible.

“Twas a long journey, and bound to be hellish with mud and bad roads this time of year.

And who knew what they would discover once they arrived?

The situation between King John and the rebels had dragged back and forth since before Christmastide. The king had until Easter to come to some sort of decision about what to do. It didn’t appear that he intended to do much of anything, except stalling.

Ian knew Nicholas and Rannulf were torn between their duty and the fact that many of the claims and complaints made by the rebels had merit.

And both men had no desire to leave their wives and homes to rejoin the back-stabbing and petty squabbles of their fellow noblemen.

But despite that, they felt a duty to go and add their support to the king. ThOugh he knew that both despised the man, for numerous reasons.

King John was Nicholas’s overlord, and Rannulf’s, through Gillian; her father, like so many marcher lords, had held l’Eau Clair directly of the king.

Ian had been surprised at their willingness to make the long journey to London. But as they eased the weariness and boredom of the trip with talk and discussion, he came to understand his two brothers-by-marriage better, to know them as men.

Rannulf, in particular, had decided to go because of his loyalty to his foster father, William Marshall, the earl of Pembroke—who also happened to be Gillian’s godfather.

When Rannulf and Gillian wished to wed, only Marshall’s intervention with the king had made their marriage possible.

Otherwise, she’d be unmarried still, or wed to Nicholas, whom the king had appointed her guardian.

Ian found he missed Lily more and more each day they were apart. He felt as though a huge hole had been ripped in his soul. The thought that it might possibly be months before they were together again made him resent the necessity for this journey all the more.

His companions seemed no more eager to be away from home than he. It was a miserable and morose group of men who finally arrived in Pembroke’s camp.

Ian dreaded the thought of trying to make the Nor-man—no, English, he reminded himself—king see the merit of Llywelyn’s requests. The fact that John also happened to be Llywelyn’s father-by-marriage would matter not at all. John and Llywelyn had a battle-strewn relationship, and since neither man was willing to give an inch, no charter was likely to change that.

But Ian would do what he could, for Wales, if not for her prince.

He understood his duty, all too well.

And he would have done his duty whether Llywelyn held Lily as surety or not.

Once they arrived, Ian swiftly realized that he would find it next to impossible to stay at the loyal barons’ camp.

Nicholas and Rannulf remained fixed there with their compatriots, but he didn’t belong there.

Unfortunately, he didn’t belong with that lot of idiots in the rebel camp, either.

He found himself an inn near where Nicholas and Rannulf were located, and settled in to wait. , Even the English had heard of the Dragon, so he had little difficulty in obtaining an interview with King John himself.

He found that Nicholas’s description of the English king had been very accurate. It helped him keep his temper, though he wanted to snarl when the frustration of dealing with these fools became too much. He was surprised to discover that Llywelyn seemed a very reasonable leader in comparison.

Nicholas and Rannulf sought him out late one evening, nearly a month after they arrived. They were waiting for him when he returned—hot, fired and angry—from another foray at court.

He invited them into his room and offered them mead.

“Though I must apologize for the poor quality. I cannot find much of anything, food nor drink, worth the money they charge for it here.”

Nicholas nodded.

“Aye. Everyone’s been here too long. Tempers are short, the weather is too hot–everywhere there’s the stink of too many people. Our encampment smells like a midden. If something isn’t resolved soon, we’ll have a battle on our hands right here.”

“Have you heard anything from Lily?” Rannulf asked.

Ian shook his head and frowned.

“Nay. I’m not sure if it’s because Llywelyn won’t allow it, or if she simply didn’t think to send me word of her.”

“A messenger arrived from l’Eau Clair this morning, the first since we got here. Gillian sent Swen to Dolwyddelan to see her, thinking we’d want news of her. The prince left the keep long ago—shortly after we did, as a matter of fact—but he’s keeping Lily there, as a guest of sorts. Swen said she’s hopeful she might be permitted to go to Gwal Draig soon. I guess she doesn’t like being mewed up under someone else’s thumb,” he added with a chuckle.

“I wonder how she’ll like being married to you, once the newness wears thin.” He raised an eyebrow.

Nicholas punched Rannulf in the arm.

“Don’t you start.

Do you want to have to battle your own brother-by-marriage?”

Ian waved them to silence.

“Nay, I’ll fight neither of you. I, too, wonder how Lily will find married life, once we have the chance to spend much time in each other’s company.”

“Aye,” Nicholas said with a wink, “and you have to leave your bedchamber eventually, more’s the pity.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you,” Rannulf said. ““Tis clear as a summer morn that Lily loves you. I just hope, for your sake, that she has a temper like her sister’s,” he added with a laugh.

“I love to argue with Gillian, I must admit.”

“That’s because you enjoy making up with her,” Nicholas said wryly.

“We came here to bring you with us to Pembroke’s camp,” Rannulf said, “I think you’ll find more opportunity to discuss Llywelyn’s aims with the men there than with the ones you’ve dealt with at court.”

What harm could there be in it? Ian buckled on his sword belt and left the stifling confines of the inn. Anything to hurry along these ceaseless arguments disguised as negotiations, he thought with a frown.

At this point, he’d do just about anything, if it meant he could rejoin Lily soon.

Lily swiftly grew to dislike Dolwyddelan just as much as she had Saint Winifred’s, and for similar reasons. Once again she was a prisoner.

But it was far worse this time. She’d tasted freedom,

adventure, love. Now that she’d experienced those things,

the walls of her prison felt that much higher.

Sometimes she wondered if she would ever be free again.

At least Llywelyn was no longer here. She’d found that simply being in his presence was a trial. She couldn’t look at him without remembering all she had lost due to his machinations. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him.

Lily tried to remind herself that she’d come here of her own free will, to help save the life of the man she loved.

But as the weeks went by with no word of Ian, she began to wonder whether it had all been for naught.

What if something had happened to him, either on the journey or in England, a foreign land? Despite reminding herself that Rannulf or Nicholas would surely tell her if something had happened, she couldn’t bury her fears completely

Swen had been to see her, at Gillian’s behest, several times since Ian had left for England. The Viking was al ways good company, but it came to the point where even he could no longer lift her spirits.

Finally, on another warm, sunny day—a day when she longed for the freedom to simply leave the castle walls and run wherever she willed—a visitor arrived.

She returned Gillian’s embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, unwilling to release her sister.

“And I you.”

Lily finally stepped back and gave Gillian a watery smile.

“It’s been so long since I came here.” She motioned for the other woman to take a seat in the room’s only chair.

“All too often of late it seems like everything that came before—marrying Ian, finding you—is naught but a wonderful dream.”

Gillian smiled. ““Tis no dream,” she assured her.

“And neither is the news I bring you. I petitioned Llywelyn on your behalf. He’s willing to allow you to go home, to Gwal Draig.”

“I’m free to leave this place?”

“Aye, but only to go to Gwal Draig. The prince wants to know where you are. I think he finally overcame his anger with Ian, and has come to realize that this gesture of goodwill and trust could make up for a great deal. He realizes how valuable Ian is to him. No good can come from keeping him on too short a lead, else he’ll simply decide to leave after all.”

Lily. shook her head.

“Nay, Gillian. Believe me when I tell you that will never happen,” she said bitterly.

“I

tried to get Ian to leave, to start our lives over someplace else, but he’d have none of it. Wales is his home. He will not leave it.”

“As I said, I don’t think he needs to worry about Llywelyn’s wrath falling upon him again.” She settled back in the chair and ran her gaze critically over Lily.

Lily flushed beneath her sister’s scrutiny and turned away to begin gathering together her few belongings.

“Have you been ill in the mornings?” Gillian asked.

Lily swung around and stared.

“Have you?”

Lily sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Aye, and other times, as well.”

“You do know what that means?”

“I’m not so ignorant as that!” she said hotly.

Gillian laughed.

“Peace, sister. Since you were raised by a bevy of nuns, I doubt you had much exposUre to the realities of life.”

“In the company of women, childbearing is a universal topic. Several of the other boarders had been wed and had children. I do know where babies come from,” she said, grinning.

“At least, I do now.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you think Ian will mind?” she asked, giving voice to one of the many questions that had haunted her of late.

“How can he mind? He had something to do with the condition you’re in. Despite your holy upbringing, I refuse to believe God had anything to do with this,” Gillian said dryly.

“I doubt it.”

Gillian stood and began helping Lily fold her clothing.

“Are you well enough to travel? Gwal Draig is not far from here, but if you think riding would—” “I’ll be fine,” Lily assUred her.

“Most likely much of my malaise is due to the fact that I feel imprisoned here. I should be better away from Dolwyddelan.”

“Good. I’ll stay with you for a while, if you wish, until you are settled. Soon, pray God, oUr husbands will return. ,

It couldn’t happen too soon for Lily.

Finally the day arrived for which Ian had waited—forever, it seemed. After continuing to argue up to the last moment, King John agreed to meet his barons at the water meadow of Runnymede.

Ian wouldn’t have bothered to stay for the event if he hadn’t feared that Llywelyn might claim—and rightly so—that he hadn’t seen his task to completion. Given the king’s wavering nature, Ian wouldn’t believe the charter had been accepted until he saw it for himself.

Nicholas and Rannulf were likewise eager to be quit of the place. By now, Summer had arrived, and all three men had too much to do at home.

So few barons had stayed at John’s side throughout the negotiations that the king’s train was meager indeed. So much for loyalty, Ian thought.

“Twas the same everywhere, unfortunately. Few men valued honor anymore.

The actual meeting with the king proved anticlimactic.

Considering what the charter stood to do for the barons, it should have been a far more momentous occasion. But perhaps everyone else was as tired of the entire situation as Ian, Nicholas and Rannulf were.

As soon as they could get away, the three gathered up their gear and their men and set off for home, eagerness lending speed to their journey.

Lily settled in at Gwal Draig with surprising ease. She couldn’t decide if that was due to Gillian’s presence or to the fact that Ian’s people were happy to have a woman about to keep the household running smoothly. They’d had no mistress since Catrin’s marriage to Nicholas, and it showed.

Lily had a great deal to learn about housewifery, and was especially thankful for her sister’s help. She was skilled at managing a manor, and good at dealing with people, and Lily found it amazing, the amount of work Gillian could get out of people by the simple expedient of praising their efforts.

This method was completely foreign to Lily, since the abbess of Saint Winifred’s had done little except carp and complain. Lily had noticed how Gillian went about it in her own home, however, so she quickly set about implementing the same technique at Gwal Draig. She could see the merit in Gillian’s skillful handling of servants, for they worked harder, and seemed to like her, as well.

Thinking of the child she carried, Ian’s child, helped her when she found herself floundering for want of him.

She’d come to depend upon him so quickly, it surprised her, and she felt his loss keenly. As the weeks passed without word of him, so did her worry increase.

She was disgusted that she cried so easily because of the babe, but Gillian simply laughed and told her ‘twas normal. Thankfully, it shouldn’t last.

She hoped not. She despised herself each time she dissolved into tears. And she doubted Ian would find it attractive.

In June, one of Gillian’s messengers arrived at Gwal Dralg with welcome news.

“They should be home soon,” Gillian said, her voice filled with excitement, “Are they all well?”

“Aye, just bored and tired of waiting. Rannulf says to tell you that Ian has grown thin and wan for want of you,” she read with a giggle.

“He hopes you’re prepared to nurse him back to health.”

“You don’t think Ian is truly ill, do you?” Lily asked, all her concerns rushing to the fore.