Silverhawk (33 page)

“Who?” Emelin urged Ortha onto the bed and sat beside her. “What happened?”

“Lord Osbert is such a fine man. I couldn’t let him think so badly of himself. I only wanted to tell him how good and brave he is. But….” Ortha’s sobs grew.

“But?”

“One thing led to another. I always admired him, you know.”

“No, I did not.”

Ortha nodded and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, not facing Emelin.

“He started seeking me out just to talk, and…”

“…One thing led to another.” Emelin completed the sentence. She could certainly identify with that.

After the tears subsided, Ortha gulped and looked up. “I’ll leave. Now that you’re back, he will want the wedding to take place right away.”

“Wait.” Emelin anchored Ortha in place. “Let me understand. You and Lord Osbert…um.”

Ortha nodded.

Stunned didn’t begin to describe Emelin’s reaction. She closed her mouth with a snap. “Do you love him?” She hoped she didn’t sound as incredulous as she felt.

“Oh, yes. I have for years, you know.”

“No, I did not,” she repeated. “Does he love you?” Could this be the source of Osbert’s look of disappointment when she arrived?

“Oh.” Ortha looked flustered now. “I couldn’t say.”

Emelin’s mind raced. This might be the answer to her prayers. Well, the ones she’d thought, if not precisely said. She pursed her lips. Dear God, could it be this simple?

“What is your age?” she asked.

“I am eight and twenty, my lady.” Ortha whispered as if in shame, her head bowed.

“Not so old. Do you have your courses?”

“My
lady
!” Ortha’s head snapped up, her face flaming. “To speak of such things.”

“Don’t be foolish. Lord Osbert requires an heir, and it seems you are able to provide one. I’m the youngest of nine. My mother bore me when she was four and thirty. You have at least six years on her. You come of good family. I see no problem.”

“But, but… Do you not want the honor of marriage to him?” Ortha seemed unable to comprehend such an idea.

“I don’t view him quite the way you do. In fact, I believe you will make Lord Osbert ten times the wife I ever would.”

A look of hope began to lighten Ortha’s face. “But what will he say when you refuse?”

“Well, let’s ask him, shall we?”

Horror darkened the other lady’s eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Oh, I think you could. Now, dry your face and come with me.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lord Osbert sat before the fire in the hall talking with three knights. While they waited for him to finish, Emelin and Ortha sipped sour ale at the table. Ortha clutched hers, alternately shoving the cup away, then gulping its contents. She shot fearful glances at Emelin from beneath lowered brows.

“Are you sure this is wise, my lady?”

“Ortha, I believe it is inspired. Let’s wait for our man, shall we?”

Silence followed again until Ortha wailed. “The betrothal. Osbert said he needed Sir Garley’s help with soldiers. He can’t destroy such an alliance. And your brother.” Ortha shuddered. “I don’t want to cross him.”

Giddy relief swamped Emelin. “I vow to you, he will not need those extra troops. Many other lords have answered the call for help with the Scots. The army is substantial. As for my dear brother—” She inhaled and fought back a chuckle. “—he’s to come into an unexpected inheritance soon.”

Until just a few days ago, she never imagined she could decide her own future. Now circumstances were different.
She
was different. Someone believed in her. Trusted her. The power was euphoric.

“I believe Sir Garley can be persuaded.” And Sweet Mary, how she looked forward to such persuasion.

Ortha settled back, fingers twisting in her lap.

Two cups of ale later, Lord Osbert bid the men good night and walked toward the high table.

“Why are you not in bed? It’s late and you both should rest.” His gruff question set Emelin’s back up. They were not children, to be ordered to sleep at someone else’s discretion.

Miraculously Ortha’s nervousness evaporated. “You are the one who needs rest, my lord,” she answered solicitously. “You can’t care for the world. Now, haven’t we discussed this?”

He appeared mollified but growled nonetheless.

With disbelief, Emelin watched their interplay. Ortha’s plain face glowed, her eyes sparkled when she gazed at Lord Osbert. The lady looked—interesting.

His frown eased, and he nodded. “That we have, that we have. My thanks for the reminder. My first wife liked to take care of me that way, Lady Ortha. Always worried, she did. You remind me of her, young thing that you are.”

The young thing batted her eyes.

Emelin muffled a cough. Time to take this conversation in a different direction. “My lord, if you will be so kind as to join us in the solar,” she interjected, “I have something important to discuss.”

He looked taken aback at her forcefulness. Still, he accompanied them up the steep stairs to the chamber set aside for the ladies’ use. Inside, Emelin turned. Ortha remained beside him.

“My Lord Osbert,” Emelin began. What to say? She hadn’t planned this far in advance. Perhaps directness would work. “I realize you and my brother have a contract to provide soldiers, along with coin and my—our—betrothal. But while I was…away, I learned many of your neighbors have contributed men for the war. You won’t need such a force as you thought.”

Before he could answer, she rushed ahead. “I can’t marry you, in any event.”

A frown knotted his brow. He cast an oblique look at Ortha, then shifted as if a rock lodged in his braies.

Now what? What would convince him to break the agreement? She searched her mind for a likely reason.

“I carry another man’s child.” Dear heaven. What had possessed her to say that?

“What?” Osbert and Ortha shouted in unison.

She couldn’t turn back now. “It’s true. That’s why my brother pushed for such a speedy wedding. He planned for me to present you with an heir two months early.”

God forgive her for the lie. But since He hadn’t struck her down yet, perhaps He understood.

“You were in a convent. Where did you find a man?” That question came from Ortha.

“Ahhh…I traveled sometimes to arrange sale of the nuns’ handiwork. I met him during one of my journeys.” She should be ashamed of the firm-voiced confidence of her lies. Her chin notched up.

Finally Lord Osbert spoke, his voice thoughtful. “That’s why you left with the mercenary. He came for you.” Certain of his conclusion, he didn’t wait for an answer. “I had my suspicion about that knight.” His eyes lit in memory. “He was the one who arrived, with you, wounded in the cart.”

Perhaps her great idea hadn’t been so great.

“Praise God I learned of your deceit before I wed you. And you’re wrong. There was never a contract. No time to get one drawn up, you see. Not with war looming to the north, so my wife’s cousin said. Your brother came to me with his offer, and I couldn’t turn it down, now could I? I need an heir as much as I needed those fighters.”

He thought for a moment. “Wonder if I can get my coin back from him.”

After the first outburst, Ortha had watched quietly. At last she said to him, “My poor dear. You have been dreadfully misled, but it was not Lady Emelin’s fault. She is guilty only of the mistakes of the young.”

He held up his hand and Ortha obediently stopped. “He’s the one you ran off with then. And what happened to him, I’d like to know? Left you alone, did he? And now what’s to become of you? Can’t stay here, for certain. I’ll not take another man’s bastard as my own.”

Ortha spoke diffidently. “Why not allow her to rest tonight, then send her back to St. Ursula tomorrow? I’m sure Sir Garley will deal with her later.”

He looked at Ortha, and his face cleared. “Do you think so? Very well, then, my dear. Come along.” Without another word, he left.

Emelin was stunned. That man couldn’t be the same Osbert of Langley she’d met only days earlier. How on earth had her meek and mild companion managed such a transformation in the arrogant, belligerent lord?

Ortha smiled. As if reading Emelin’s mind, she said, “Pride is a fearsome thing, dear Emelin. When he could not produce a son, when no lady could be found to wed him, he felt a failure. And to buy a bride who runs away? Devastating. Lord Osbert might be a trifle overbearing at times, but he likes his comfort, and he likes to feel needed. I don’t mind providing for either. At heart, he’s a good man.”

She paused at the door. “I know you lied about the child. But you will want to be safely out of your brother’s reach before he hears of the story. I fear he is
not
a good man.”

Her friend had no idea. “Ortha,” Emelin advised, “you must rush your marriage. My brother has bet his future on my wedding to Lord Osbert. He will not be happy.” No, even with her inheritance, he’d rage. He loathed being thwarted.

Despite the long, emotional day, Emelin couldn’t sleep when she at last found her bed. Had she done the right thing? Or had she set in motion events that could destroy her and, perhaps, others? She acted with good intentions but without thought, much like the first night she tried to leave Giles.

She still didn’t understand why all the knights and men-at-arms were being assembled here at Langley and at Granville. Giles was following the traitor, but until today, she hadn’t heard of fighting. But wasn’t Lord Paxton moving north to Scotland? She hated not knowing.

Rubbing her fingertips in circles against her temples, Emelin tried to think. Giles must be warned. If Henry received a warning at Chauvere, he could help. But how to send a message? She sighed. Only one way presented itself. Tomorrow she’d have to manage another escape.

As it was, she was up before the sun, persuading Lord Osbert she needed only one escort back to the convent. Then Sister Ressa arrived, to insist she would accompany Emelin to St. Ursula, so another soldier was added. Lord Osbert didn’t like to send them off with such little protection until Ortha pointed out that the raids all took place to the north, and their small party was heading south.

“Of course, my lord,” Sister Ressa said, “if you wish to wait for your men’s return from the convent, I’m certain Sir Robert and his men will be pleased to rest here. You do have ample stores to feed them?”

Lord Osbert sputtered when he thought of putting out extra food. Before long he’d agreed no extra men need make the trip to the convent. Didn’t want to delay joining Garley and the other lords who were readying fighters for the march to Scotland, he allowed.

The nun nodded and offered a blessing for the troops. Her innocent expression didn’t fool Emelin, who realized she’d just learned a lesson in manipulation.

With a sigh, Emelin mounted her mare and gazed at the escort. With two men to alternate guard duties, how was she to slip away to Chauvere?

****

Giles encountered another report of raids when he was barely out of sight of Granville. A boy wandering along the road reported two cottages at the edge of Granville land had been burned. The boy’s Gram and Grandda put to the sword, he said. He escaped only because he’d been to the river for fish. Giles set the lad in the direction of the castle.

Stopping only to rest Nuit, Giles pushed on until he could no longer make out the road. He was up at first light. He rode for hours, until he thought he might have taken a wrong turn the night before. Then, ahead, he saw Chauvere. He hadn’t passed Lord Henry. He was in time.

In the hall, Giles found Henry dressed in his mail, arguing with Lady Evie. “You are not coming with me. There may be trouble, and I won’t have you in danger.”

“But Lady Emelin may need me.”

“She’s not there,” Giles announced.

The brother and sister looked up in surprise. “What’s toward?” Henry motioned to him.

“I was on my way. Here, sit.” He nodded toward the table, and Lady Evie brought a cup and pitcher from the other end.

In few words, Giles described what had happened. Henry’s face darkened at the tale. When the story of Missy’s brother Tom was recounted, Henry slammed the table with his fist. “That damned Paxton. Sounds as if he sends out raiding parties dressed as Scots to attack the people, then lies to the lords. He encourages them to show their support in men and arms. If he’s gathering an army, he means to march north.”

Giles nodded. “The story about negotiating peace with Scotland was a lie. Yet why would he go to the trouble of creating such a cover? The raids would generate enough hatred to persuade the lords to back him.”

“He always has an alternate plan,” Lady Evie said, her tone strained, as if battling a memory that wouldn’t stay buried. “If one idea doesn’t work, another will. When he tried to take Chauvere from Alyss, he was backed by Prince John. Could John be behind this?”

“John’s been fighting with Richard for years now,” Giles said. “I doubt he still plots with King Philip.”

Henry scowled. “Philip, then.”

“What I thought,” Giles acknowledged. “Richard’s strength would be divided and weakened if he had to provide fighters for two wars.”

A disturbance at the door diverted their attention. “It’s Roark.” Lady Evie jumped to her feet and raced across the hall.