The Shattered Rose (24 page)

"My example!" Galeran laughed out loud. "I'd think my experiences would suggest a long journey far away from
women."

Raoul glanced sideways. "And yet you do not have the look of a completely unhappy man."

"True enough," said Galeran, laughter lingering as a smile. "If we can just settle the matter of Donata, and deal with Lowick so I can ride through my own land without fear of ambush, I'll be as happy as any man has a right to be."

"Why do you grudge me the same, then?"

Galeran concentrated, alerted by a seriousness in his friends tone. "I don't. But I do wonder if you have the temperament for domesticity. For fidelity." After a moment's thought, he decided to charge the issue head-on. "Surely you are not thinking of settling down with Aline? Quite apart from her intent to become a nun, she is a northern girl, born and bred. What of your beloved sun, then?"

"I'll have to try seducing her with southern fruits. . . ." Raoul glanced sideways, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I really do fear the Lady Aline is running so fast from my wicked ways that she just might catch me."

Galeran raised his brows. "I think this will be an interesting jaunt after all."

They stayed the night at Brome, and then set out in an even more impressive cavalcade, heading to Richmond,

where they would join the remains of the ancient road that headed straight as an arrow south.

That night they asked the hospitality of a priory, but it had only separate dormitories for men and women, so Jehanne and Galeran had to part. "It's perhaps fitting," he said, "that we be chaste on this journey."

Her eyes searched his features with a shadow of concern. "I might begin to think you are growing fond of chastity."

"Never think that." He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "It is because it's hard that it will be a suitable offering to God."

"You think we need His aid, then?"

"Don't we always?"

"And yet, you haven't been much given to sexual abstinence in our marriage, Galeran."

"And you have always had a saucy tongue. Now, if you were to
insist
that I perform my marital duties, we could probably find a suitable corner. . . ."

"Oh, no!" she said, capturing his teasing hand. "You won't make me into your Eve. By all means let us suffer. In your case it can be a votive offering. In mine it will be penance."

Galeran shook his head as he watched her cross to the well-separated women's quarters. Jehanne would never lose her sharp edge.

Thanks be to God.

He took a moment to slip into the chapel to offer his abstinence to God, and to pray for His assistance in this tangled matter.

* * * * *

Raoul made sure that he assisted Aline down from her saddle, and escorted her to the entrance of the women's dormitory.

She looked at the sturdy door with a rather smug smile.

"I fear this journey will not provide much opportunity for your assault of my citadel, Sir Raoul."

"Do you think not? But it is a soldier's skill to find the weakness in any defense."

Her eyes flickered to his and her smile wavered. "I doubt you will find one here."

"No? In most religious houses the chapel is common ground"

Her lovely blue eyes widened. "No one would conduct dalliance in a
chapel!"

"Do you think not?" Now it was his turn to smile smugly.

"If you were to do such an irreverent thing, it would only strengthen my defenses, I assure you."

"Then why do you seek to dissuade me?"

She raised her pretty, round chin. " 'Tis merely that I fear for your soul, Sir Raoul." Then she moved to open the door.

He seized her hand, stopping her. "Don't fear for any part of me, Lady Aline," he said, raising her hand for a kiss. "Unless it be my heart that swells with what might be the beginning of love for you."

She snatched her hand away. "If any part of you is swelling, sirrah, I'm sure it's not your heart!" With a sharp look at his genitals, and a rapid blush, she flipped the latch and marched into the dormitory.

Raoul laughed. She had him there, but the swelling had not begun until she had—so to speak—raised the subject with her sharp tongue and bold look.

The thought of tongues and eyes did little to ease him, so he went
off
to check the horses and use up his energy in purposeful work.

* * * * *

Aline stormed into the dormitory in a daze, berating herself for stooping to low badinage and unchaste looks. Raoul de Jouray seemed to have that effect on her.

Wicked, wicked man.

And of course she wasn't going to meet him in the chapel.

On the other hand, it would be pleasant to say her nightly prayers in the sanctified chapel, and she should not let a low rogue keep her from God.

For all his bold words, the man couldn't really try to seduce her before God's altar.

Could he?

All the time she was assisting Jehanne and Winifred, the maid, with the baby, she struggled with this mix of fear, rebellion, and rampant curiosity. It was as if she were a puppy with a skein of yarn, tangling herself further the more she twisted.

There were three other women in the dormitory—a merchant’s wife and daughter, and a mason's wife. The merchant's family was returning from Nottingham, where they had heard definite news of Henry Beauclerk's coronation.

"I fear events when the Conqueror's oldest son returns home," said thin Dame Freda, shaking her head. "I was a child when the Normans came into England, but I remember it. Terrible times, and the north country still not recovered. I wouldn't go south just yet, ladies."

"Duke Robert is still far away," Jehanne told her.

"He'll move fast when the news reaches him," said the dame. "I'm staying in the north."

When Dame Freda and her pale daughter settled in then-beds, Aline said quietly to Jehanne, "Do you think Duke Robert will invade?"

"No. The Conqueror spent a mountain of gold to seize England, buying soldiers with coin and with promise of land here in England. That land is now held by strong men of Norman descent who are not likely to give it up. Unless the barons turn on Henry, Robert has no chance."

"You're saying he wouldn't succeed, not that he wouldn't invade."

Jehanne sighed. "True. And I don't think he's a wise man. But he's still dallying in Sicily, which is south of Italy and many weeks away. Whatever he does, it shouldn't affect our journey."

"No. Your enemy is Ranulph Flambard, with Raymond of Lowick as his tool. I wonder what effect this new king will have on them."

Jehanne grimaced. "We can do nothing but hope and pray. Are you ready for bed?"

As if impelled by an outside force, Aline rose and straightened her skirts, "Speaking of prayers, I think I'll visit the chapel."

"Very well. But don't pray the night away. We leave early in the morning."

Heart beating fast, Aline went to the small door that led into the chapel. There was a squint next to it for ladies who wished to observe Mass without venturing farther. She paused with her hand on the chilly metal latch and peeped through. Beyond a distant metal grille, the altar candles showed two cowled monks praying.

The squint, however, did not show the body of the chapel.

With a deep breath, she pressed down the latch and slipped through the door. She almost laughed. She was in a small separate chapel, divided from the main body by that metal grille which contained no gate at all. Clearly the monks had made sure that there was no danger of females sneaking out in the night to invade their chaste quarters.

That meant, however, there was no danger of Raoul de Jouray staging an attack from the main chapel upon her tower of virtue.

Suddenly ashamed of her wanton thoughts and her impious reason for coming here, Aline knelt before the minor altar and prayed earnestly for the strength to be good. She gazed intently at a wooden plaque set above the altar and draped in silk. In the dim light she could see a carving of the Blessed Mary with her child on her hip.

Assisted by that image, Aline addressed her prayers to Christ and His mother, said now to have remained a virgin despite her motherhood. As she prayed, however, her mind wandered around the subject of virginity and virtue.

She knew in her heart that goodness did not equal virginity, whatever the priests might say. Her mother had been a very good woman despite bearing eight children, and Lord Hubert was as good as one could expect a man to be despite siring them.

Galeran was good too.

Raoul de Jouray, however, was anything but. . . .

Angrily, she thrust the thought of that man out of her mind.

Perhaps it was lewd enjoyment of sex that sapped a person's goodness. But she knew that her parents had taken pleasure in their bed, and she was sure Jehanne and Galeran had, even since his return.

Now the Church said that virginity was the ideal state all men and women should aim for, even within marriage. The abbess of St. Radegund's supported that view strongly, but Aline didn't think many ordinary people did. For a start, it was a daft way to organize a community that needed children.

She was disturbed from her thoughts by singing, and realized the monks were arriving for compline, the service before nightly rest. She looked across to watch the column of cowled figures arrive in the chapel, and so saw Raoul de Jouray kneeling not far away.

At least he was securely on the other side of the grille.

She stared at him, expecting him to look at her, to do something that would constitute an attack, but he seemed completely absorbed in prayer. She continued to watch him warily until the beauty of the familiar, floating music caught her and she prayed with it for peace and security during the coming dark.

And for freedom from lewd thoughts.

When the service ended and the monks began to leave, she looked again at Raoul. But he had gone.

* * * * *

In the morning he came to help her check her horse. "I hope you slept well, Lady Aline."

"Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Restlessly, to think of you so close by." She was standing close by her horse, and in checking the girth, he managed to let his hand slide down to touch her hip.

Aline stepped back. "At Heywood we were somewhat closer, I think."

"You felt closer last night, perhaps because we are in an alien world."

She moved around to put the whole bulk of the horse between them. Being short, she could not see anything of him other than his boots. "This is not an alien world to me, Sir Raoul. I am used to religious houses."

"But it is a place that is strange to us all, quite different from your home or your cloister."

Aline decided she'd made a tactical error. Hearing just his voice seemed more intimate than standing close by his large body.

"As the days go by," he continued, "everything will become stranger still. Thus, the familiar—the people you are with—will seem more intimate, more necessary."

Aline ran her hand restlessly down the horse's rough-silky neck. "You are depending on this strangeness to make me seek you out?"

"I am depending on it to bring about changes. I have traveled often, Lady Aline, and this always happens. The traveling group, no matter how disparate they seem to begin with, become close. A company. Almost a family."

She ducked under the horse's neck to face him. "It is quite possible to detest a member of the family."

He met her smile. "How true. I must introduce you to my grandfather one day. But by the time we reach London we will all be closer than ever before, whether bound by love or hate."

He led the horse over to the block so she could mount. Once seated there, and with a rare advantage of height, she asked, "What were you doing in the chapel last night?"

He looked up, not so very far below her after all. "Praying, Lady Aline."

"You said you would be there to pursue your attack on me."

"Attack." He frowned. "Picture me rather as a petitioner at your gates." Quite casually, he laid his hand on her thigh. "Beseeching you to open and let me in."

"Last night," she said, all too aware of her spread thighs, "last night you asked me nothing. . . ."

"Perhaps last night I was seeking aid of your overlord." His hand did not move, but it was as if it moved. She could imagine heat pouring from it, penetrating her thick woolen tunic and sturdy linen kirtle, trickling between her legs. . ..

She put her hand down to move his, but he captured and turned it, pressing a kiss into her palm. "Your overlords— and mine—gave me reason to hope."

Aline snatched her hand away. "Do not bring God into this! This is just a game, and a foolish one at that."

His hazel eyes seemed brighter gold than usual. "Many men think war is just a game, Aline. It still leads to both death and glory."

With that he walked away, leaving her wondering whether she was steady enough to keep her seat on the horse.

* * * * *

At Baldersby he gave her flowers. At Wetherscot he presented wild strawberries. At Knottingly, where they stayed for two days to give extra rest to the horses, he stole a kiss.

* * * * *

Raoul had persuaded her to walk from their lodging to a nearby leaf-hung stream, where they watched fish rising, surrounded by the abundance of birds, insects, and flowers, enjoying all the beauty of an English summer evening. There he spoke to her of his native land, where flowers, he assured her, were even more abundant, birds more beautiful, and fish plumper. And where there were fields full of juicy grapes.

She was so entranced by his stories that he was able to trap her in the cleft of an old sycamore tree.

Arms braced on two of the three great trunks, and entirely blocking her escape, he asked, "Don't you think you would like to travel, Aline, and see these places for yourself?"

If she didn't acknowledge that she was trapped, perhaps he wouldn't take advantage. She leaned back against the third trunk as if comfortable. "Nuns sometimes travel.. . ."

"But not often."

"I wouldn't care for a wandering life."

"There is a difference between travel and wandering."