The Handfasting (38 page)

Kenneth
shook his head. "It was not so easy as that, Roland, as well you know.
There was no heir . . ."

"No
heir?" Roland roared, striding from the fire to stand solidly before the sister,
as close to Kenneth as he could get. "Just what the hell was I then?"

"Settle
down," Kenneth moved to stand between Mother Rose and Roland. Roland
stepped back. "You were heir, and now. . . you rule Oakland. But she, Lady
Veri, did not carry your seed."

"I
should say not. She was a child when we wed, when I left. There was time
enough."

"If
you survived."

A
bitter smile crossed Roland's lips. "Oh, I survived, in my own manner. The
question is, how did she survive? What skills did she utilize to keep her in my
absence? It has been ten years, since I left. From what they tell me, five
years since my father's death, God rest his soul.

"What
has become of her in the meantime?” Roland sat back down, his legs crossed
nonchalantly, as if he cared little for the importance of the conversation.
"It seems you may be the only ones," his arm swept out to encompass
all of those present, "who do know where she has been all these
years."

“Your
wife has been with the sisters since she left this place.” Father Kenneth
blurted baldly, his wry half smile evidence enough that he knew this came as a
surprise. Roland had to restrain himself from bolting forward with the shock of
it.

Searches
for Veri had been extensive, yet no one had thought of a nunnery. Evil people
did not seek sanctuary within Holy walls.

That
was the belief of the masses, but Roland was not of the masses. On campaign to
the Holy Lands, he met many spiritual men, and many men of greed and lust who’d
claimed vows of poverty and chastity. Holy walls held evil as well as good.

“What
is it she wants?” He stretched his legs out before him as he lounged in his
place. “Does she wish to come back, to claim the riches she so hastily
abandoned? Does she wish to administer to me as she did to my father? Will she
play the loving wife?”

“On
the contrary, Roland, she wishes the marriage to be annulled.”

Roland
sat up, no longer hiding his interest. “Annulled?” It was the second time
Kenneth had surprised him with his words. First, that Veri had been hiding in a
convent no more than half a day’s ride away. Second that she wished the
marriage annulled. This was a contingent he never envisaged; though now,
perhaps, he realized he should have.

Of
course he should have.

She
would hold him to an offer she did not deserve.

She
would imagine herself safe within the walls of a convent. To retrieve her would
be to challenge the church. Not just the one convent, but the whole of the
church. For an act against the part would be seen as an act against the whole.
She would be free of him and his vengeance. Or so she would think. She wouldn’t
know that nothing, not even the church, could withstand Roland’s anger.

But,
in her mind, she had sanctuary. So being, what would it cost Roland to buy his
freedom? What price would she put on the annulment? They must think him
desperate for without it he would never be free to marry, to produce an heir.
To her mind, she had him cornered.

Hiding
his thoughts he asked, “What does she want? What price, for the dissolution of
the marriage?”

The
friar looked to Sister Rose. She nodded and turned to Roland. “Her only wish is
that you listen to her side of the story. That you not judge her on the word of
others.”

Roland
shot off the bench as swiftly as his calm shattered. “Not judge her?”

Again,
he was taken by surprise. She asked a high price indeed, but not to be paid, as
he would have thought.

He
stalked to the fireplace, his back to all within the room as, once again, he
fought against emotion. The fire beckoned his gaze, mesmerized him as he
remembered Veri, the child she had been.

Such
a fey thing, no surprise many thought her a witch. In truth, even as a child,
her ability to heal was unsettling. But he had been grateful for that ability,
as his father had been after him.

 
Why don’t they like me?  The question had haunted him. She had asked that when
still new to Oakland, and with good reason. She was no more than a peasant
child, who spoke the language of old, the Celtic tongue. That, in itself, made
her suspect. That she should be given absolute care of his father, when he was
so near death, did not gain her allies. Yes, she had, had enemies back then,
until his father had strengthened. Until she had proved herself worthy of being
a part of Oakland.

He
had to shut such thoughts out. That was the past. It mattered not that he
yearned to believe in Veri. That she alone, could re-instill his faith in
mankind. Should she prove not guilty of the crimes, should she prove to be the
same innocent soul who found him wounded and dying within a meadow, then the
world would tip once more. It would become a place of light rather than
darkness.

He
hungered for that.

He
knew the impossibility of it. She had lied to him even before he had left. The
world was not a place of goodness.

She
was his one weakness.

He
must not weaken.

Pivoting,
he faced Kenneth and the sisters of Our Lady’s. “She wants me to hear her
story?”

Slowly,
thoughtfully, he walked around the room, toward the three huddled together in
the alcove. He glanced at the shadowed features beneath the cowls of their cape
hoods, before he gestured toward the others. “And are these her witnesses? Are
each of these women,” he studied the three closest to him, “here to claim
Veri’s goodness?”

“You
have heard many lies,” Mother Rose told him, “It is time you heard many
truths.”

“Truths?
Such as the wolf spoke when he wore lamb’s clothing?”

He
fought for calm, but something in the air, some elemental charge of energy,
filled him, tested his senses. Not danger, such as Roland had come to know, but
something else entirely. Anticipation, exhilaration, it swirled through him, as
though he was on the verge of victory.

He
had her. He had her within his grasp. He knew where she was and how to bait her
from her den.

“She
relies on others? Afraid to speak for herself?”

Father
Kenneth beckoned Roland back by the fire, “You need to hear the whole of it,
Roland, and you need to let your mind open before she can show herself to you.”

Mother
Rose crossed to Roland, took his arm to guide him to return to his former
place.

He
shook her off as the friar continued, “You are not the man you were, but that
does not mean the fellow of balanced judgment is not within you.” The friar
acknowledged the bench again, “Come back, be seated, we will discuss this.”

They
were too insistent.

“What
are you afraid of, Friar Kenneth? Mother Superior?”

“That
you will not listen to reason”

Roland
didn’t believe him. There was more to it than that. Rose’s gaze flickered
between Kenneth and one of the sisters, as though seeking guidance. Roland suspected
the Mother Superior was a woman who wore calm as easily as another donned a
hat. A woman who confidently made her own decisions. Yet worry shadowed her
eyes.

She
was troubled. Why?

Roland
looked about him again. The gaggle of nuns by the door, more within the alcove
and the Friar with the Mother Superior. Once again, he noted the woman in the
alcove. Not the women, but the one woman; the one who stood off to the side,
deep in shadow, looking through the window at nothing but blackness as if the
discussion held no significance.

The
one who Rose looked to for answers.

Slowly
Roland pivoted, to view the woman straight on.

Oh,
they truly were fools, totally inept at strategy.

They
had brought their queen to the king’s lair.

Check
mate!

“She
is here!” In two strides, he cut off the protective move of others, made toward
the figure, and was upon her. With one tug he pulled back the hood, to stare
into the face of his treacherous wife. “You fool!” Elation spilled over, as he
beamed his victory.