The Shattered Rose (27 page)

"So you do admit their power?"

She turned away, nose in the air. "I believe I showed you earlier that your manly attributes have no power over me."

He bent down to whisper in her ear. "We were interrupted. Care for a rematch?" She was a genius with perfumes, the pretty witch. Rose, vervaine, and others too subtle to detect wafted from her skin to tantalize his senses, a sweet eternal promise of womanliness to balance the harsh world of men.

"Don't be silly," she hissed, rather denting his romantic musings on sweetness. "If you had any decency at all, you wouldn't have flaunted yourself like that!"

He straightened. "I was swimming, Lady Aline. An innocent activity. A virtuous one after dirty work. If you had any decency at all, you wouldn't have stared."

She avoided his point by reaching down to fuss with the baby's blanket.

"Perhaps we should repeat the match on more equal terms," he said. "Naked to naked. See who blinks first."

The sound of stifled laughter made him smile. Ah, but he loved a lass who could laugh at such matters. Gently, he touched the nape of her neck where her short veil showed golden curls springing free of her thick plaits. The image of what she would look like, her lush curves naked except for the mass of her hair, tended to keep him awake at night. Or his wakefulness could just be because he'd not had a woman since Ella.

She had quieted beneath his touch.

"But," he said, still teasing at that sensitive spot, "as your trainer, I think you should avoid my naked body until you are more advanced at basic maneuvers."

She twitched from his hand and looked up, eyes wide and steady, though she could not control her color. "Raoul de Jouray, you could dance in front of me stark naked without giving my willpower any trouble at all! I doubt the same could be said in reverse."

Raoul burst out laughing. "Oh, Aline. You are the most foolish, flaunting, green cadet I have ever encountered."

* * * * *

Even while discussing teething problems with Dame Marjorie, Jehanne watched the encounter between Aline and Raoul with a frown. It was like seeing a summer storm gather, knowing nothing could stop the lightning. One could only pray it would do no harm.

She could send Aline back to Burstock, but to give her sufficient escort meant weakening their own party, and she would let nothing endanger Galeran.

She could tell Galeran to get rid of his dangerous friend, but apart from the discourtesy of it, she liked the fact that her husband had such a warrior at his back.

And anyway, there was some validity to Raoul’s arguments. Everyone had accepted that Aline wanted the religious life, that she had little interest in men and marriage. If that was not true, better she learn it now than when she had taken her vows.

She was distracted from her worries by a serving woman who gave her a small roll of parchment. "From whom?" she asked.

“I dunno, Lady. The gateman said it came for you."

Jehanne unrolled it, glad that she could read, even though her skill at writing words was severely lacking.

At the sight of Raymond's name, her breath caught.

The note said simply:
I
wish no harm to you and yours, but will not lose you and my child. Bring Donata to the church in the village before blood is shed.

Almost she went—though alone—thinking she could protect the men she had entangled. But then she remembered that Raymond might have tried to kill her husband and was plotting to steal her child. He did not deserve her protection.

She went instead to Galeran. "I need to speak with you."

He excused himself from his father. "What is it?"

She passed him the note.

He must have read it three times before he looked at her. "How did you get this?"

"A servant."

He studied her. "Were you tempted to go?"

How much she wished such questions were impossible. "Yes," she said honestly. Then, seeing his expression, she quickly added, "But only to protect you."

"Protect
me?"

She turned away distractedly. "Protect
both
of you. If anyone suffers for all this, it should be me."

He gripped her arm down to the bone. "You would protect Lowick?"

She looked back at him, seeing how her honest words were like daggers in his flesh. She'd shield this man from every hurt, but she kept having to wound him with honesty. Despite the pain of his grip, she spoke steadily. "Yes, but I would never choose to protect him over you."

He let her go. "I will never understand you, Jehanne. How can you . . . ?" But then he shook his head. "I'm going to check out this church. You are not to leave the manor."

She caught his sleeve. "Don't go alone!"

"Do you think me a complete fool?" It was not an idle question.

She quickly let him go. "I can't stop worrying over you, Galeran. Don't take it amiss."

He sighed. "Forgive me. My male pride pricks at me sometimes." He touched her cheek gently with his knuckles. "At least, even if you thought about it, you didn't dash off to try to handle this single-handedly. For that, I thank you."

"I'm studying hard to be a proper woman."

"Heaven help us all." But it was said with a smile.

When he left the hall with four of his men, she did not follow, but went, as a proper woman should, to sit by her child's cradle and spin.

There she prayed that her husband wouldn't kill or be killed by the father of her child.

Chapter 14

The village of Knottingly straggled along the river close by the manor compound. Small, stone, but with a thatched roof, the simple church sat slightly back from the water between the two, surrounded by its graveyard. The priest's cottage must be part of the village, Galeran saw, for there was no other building on the site.

Search as he might, the area appeared deserted, the only visible creatures being the sheep that cropped all over the area. The light was fading, though, and could conceal a great deal. Perhaps he should have brought Raoul of the excellent eyesight.

Raoul had tried to insist on coming along. In fact, he'd wanted to lead the expedition while Galeran stayed in the manor house. Galeran, however, was heartily sick of skulking in safety, and so he hadn't even told his father what was going on. He'd left Raoul behind and brought just four men-at-arms, itching for a fight with Raymond of Lowick. If Lowick was able to kill him, so be it.

Perhaps the best man would win.

Perhaps it would be God's will.

Perhaps Jehanne would prefer it. ...

He didn't really believe that, but the suspicion gnawed at him day and night. When he'd turned up at the gates, Jehanne had had no real choice other than to stay and face him, for to flee with Lowick would make them both outcasts and fugitives. Her staying didn't prove devotion. And Lowick was like Raoul, one of the tall, Godlike men whom women, even sensible women, went silly over. As a young man at Heywood, Galeran had always felt insignificant beside Raymond of Lowick.

However, he'd put alt that behind him. Or so he'd thought. After all, it didn't take long to realize that Lowick was not clever, and that his vanity handicapped him as he tried to make his way in the world. He was aware of no one's concerns but his own.

Galeran's sparring with Raoul had helped, too, convincing him that brawn didn't always win.

But perhaps deep down he'd never quite overcome his wish to be as big and broad as his brothers and Lowick. Perhaps that was why he could think for a moment that Jehanne might prefer—all things being equal—to be with Raymond of Lowick.

After all, look at Aline, who had seemed impervious to men all her life. A few encounters with Raoul, and she was a blushing ninny. Galeran wondered how
she'd
reacted to Lowick. She'd never mentioned him.

Impatiently, he focused on the problem at hand and made plans.

He was greatly tempted just to saunter up to the church and smash his fist into Lowick's even, white teeth. It would be impossible to approach the church in concealment, however, and he had too much to lose by such bravado.

So the first thing to do was to find out how likely it was that anyone be there. Galeran and two men stayed back in the trees while the other two skirted the church to go into the village. There, they were to ask about strangers nearby and find out who had brought the message up to the manor.

The sun continued to sink behind distant hills, turning the world to russet shot through with dangerous shadows. There was no sign of movement from the church, but Galeran made himself wait until the men appeared on the road near the village and signaled all was clear at that end.

If strangers had passed by the manor, the watchman would have noticed. If no strangers had passed through the village, it looked very much as if the note had been a hoax, or some other kind of circuitous plot.

All the same, Galeran and his men approached the church with drawn swords and ready shields, all with a clear memory of crossbows.

Still no movement or sound.

They dashed the last few yards to press back against the rough stone walls, safe from projectiles.

Then Galeran edged up to the oaken door, flung it open, and charged into the church.

It was empty except for the wooden altar and two prie-dieux for the lord and lady of the manor.

The stone walls, crudely painted with biblical pictures, contained one door close to the altar. Galeran opened it cautiously but found, as expected, the sacristy, empty except for a few locked chests for the priest's vestments and vessels.

He sheathed his sword and looked around again, wondering just what the point of all this was. With great care he peeped out of one of the small windows, wondering if the attack would come as they left. There was too much open space here, though, for any kind of sneaking approach.

Looking out over the river to the rising ground beyond, he saw only fields striped with crops and crowned by a coppice of trees. Someone could watch from there, and with good eyesight they'd see most of what went on.

Had this just been a joke?

No. If anything, it had been a test.

Perhaps Lowick was up there watching to see if Jehanne would obey his summons. If so, Galeran thought with satisfaction, he wouldn't like what he had seen.

One of his men called a warning from the other side, and he ran over. It was only his other two men jogging back from the village.

"No nobles have been this way, Lord, other than your party," one reported. "The message was brought by a lad from Bartletor, the village on the other side of the river. We could go by the ford and fetch him."

"No," said Galeran, leading the way out into the evening, still looking around for some sign of his enemy. He still thirsted to cross swords with Lowick. "The boy probably just received it from some other. We could follow that trail for days."

He shielded his eyes from the flaming ball of the sun and peered once more at the tree-topped hill. In this light not even Raoul could have spotted anything. "Let's return and eat."

As they walked back up to the manor, the sun dipped and dusk suddenly arrived. Crows settled noisily into their roosts and bats swooped out to feed.

It was a time of day to make a man uneasy, and Galeran was. He had a hard time believing that Lowick would plan this sort of event as test or joke. His idea of amusement was to tie pigs' tails together, then watch them squeal.

No, this had the mark of Ranulph Flambard. But what had the bishop hoped to gain from it?

* * * * *

Flambard received his man in the prior's parlor at the priory of Hitchinborough, Prior Joseph having declared himself delighted to give up his quarters to his eminent guest. Even if the ingratiating smile hadn't reached his eyes.

"So?" he asked, choosing a piece of roast duck with great care.

Lucas, a burly, competent man of middle years, stayed kneeling. "No woman came near the church, my lord bishop."

"Ah." Flambard popped the meat in his mouth and savored it. He was not a glutton, but what he ate he expected to be of highest quality. He dabbed his lips with the cloth. "Did anyone?"

"Aye, my lord. Three men approached the church and burst in. Two ordinary soldiers and a highborn man."

"Of what build?"

"Of average build, my lord."

Flambard used his silver spoon to sup some greens in sauce. "Burst in, you say. If there had been anyone there, do you think they would have done him harm?"

"Aye, my lord bishop."

"As I thought."

So Jehanne of Heywood had taken the note straight to her husband. That cast further doubt on Raymond of Lowick's tale of the woman's love for him.

Why were people so stupid? Look at Rufus. He'd
warned
him about Henry, that Henry would stop at nothing to gain England, but Rufus—arrogant Rufus—had not listened. Flambard hoped he was roasting in hell.

He turned his mind, however, to the future. "Thank you, Lucas. Make sure a careful watch is kept on the Heywood party and report their movements back to me."

The man rose and bowed himself backward toward the door. "Aye, my lord."

"And, Lucas .. ." The words halted the man as he turned to exit, swinging him back. "I'm afraid I might have given you a wrong impression." Flambard picked up a honey cake. "I would be distressed to hear that any harm had come to Lord Galeran on his journey."

Lucas stared at him. "You would, my lord?"

"It is so hard to explain away a crossbow. That, Lucas, was a mistake."

The man blanched. "I see, my lord. But . . ."

"But?"

"I thought you wanted the man dead, my lord."

Flambard took a bite of the sweet almond-filled pastry and savored it. "It is not for man to seek justice when the hand of God is available."

"I see, my lord," said Lucas, who clearly did not.

"I received a report from the manor of Knottingly, about a trial of arms between Lord Galeran and his large friend. The friend won."

"Perhaps to be expected, my lord."

"Quite. Raymond of Lowick hopes to fight a court battle with Lord Galeran on the matter of the Lady Jehanne. It would be unfortunate, I think, if anything were to prevent that request for divine judgment."