The Shattered Rose (38 page)

Raoul realized he was gaping, and closed his mouth. His mother and sisters were not weak or silly women, but he didn't think any of them would be willing to accept a beating every few hours for such a logical, political reason.

Yet again, though, she was right. She'd created a weapon they could use against Flambard.

"What were you intending to do?" he asked. "Burst in on the king and bare your back?"

She began to answer, but then stared at him. "What do you mean, 'intending'?" If she'd been a man, he'd have prepared to defend himself.

"I am not going to help you escape from here, Jehanne. It would not work in your favor with the king, believe me. However, I will take your words to him."

Even though she was weaponless, danger flickered in her eyes, but in the next moment he saw her consider his words and accept them, no matter how reluctantly. It was probably the reluctance that made her swing away to face the crucifix on the wall.

By the Cross, she was a woman in a million.

Thanks be. Many more like her and the world would shiver and fall.

"Do you have any idea how hard I find this?" she asked.

Raoul remembered sympathizing with her about having to stand and watch. Perhaps the key to understanding Jehanne was to put himself in her place. He'd hate to have to just wait for his fate, and that of the ones he loved, to be decided by others. He didn't know if he could meekly accept beating after beating in their cause, though.

He was a fighter, not a martyr, and at heart, he thought, so was she.

"I think I do understand," he said gently. "But if you want to help Galeran, you must stay here, hard though it will be." Then, however, he stopped his pious lecture. "Hell's cinders. That means another beating."

She turned back to face him. "That doesn't matter." Astonishingly, he could see she meant it. "What does matter is that the king give Donata to us, not Raymond. And that Galeran and Raymond not fight. I will do anything to achieve those ends."

Raoul raised his brows. "Do you not believe Galeran can win? Even if you think him the lesser warrior, do you not believe that God will decide right from wrong?"

"God probably has better things to do," she said testily, "but I'm sure Galeran has a fair chance of winning. I saw him fight you."

"So?"

"So Raymond does not deserve to die."

It was as if the earth had changed to quicksand beneath Raoul’s feet. "Are you telling me your concern is for
him? "

"Yes." She met his anger without flinching. In fact, with exasperation. "I love Galeran more than life itself, Raoul! But I cannot let an innocent man suffer to ease my way."

"Innocent?"

"What did he do, this dark villain? He loved me. Poor fool, he still does. His feelings are as much for Heywood as for myself, but it is love all the same. He hoped Galeran was dead. That might be uncharitable, but it is hardly an offense worthy of death. ..."

"He committed adultery with you!"

Her color flared then, but she spoke calmly. "Have you never had sex with a willing married woman?" Before he could find a way to make 'yes' sound like 'no,' she went on. "Do you deserve to die for it?"

"If the husband had caught me at it, perhaps!"

She cocked her head slightly, looking almost amused. "So, Raoul, do you think you can take my words to the king and make my arguments persuasively?"

He muttered words that shouldn't be spoken in such a place, imagining himself standing before the king of England and his advisers, with Galeran by his side, and trying to make this case. By the Nails and Spear, he wished he were safe home in Guyenne.

But he could see what the cunning woman was up to.

"You are still not leaving here, Jehanne."

"You cannot make a case you don’t believe in!" The tightening of her face showed that she'd hoped to scare him off the task. He admired her, but he'd like to throttle her too.

"I'll do my best Now, let me see your back. I need to be able to swear to it."

She glared at him, but puffed out a defeated breath, disconcertingly like Aline for a moment. Then, wincing, she pulled off her embroidered tunic and turned. "I split the back of my kittle so it would be easily seen."

He’d seen men flayed by a whip, and this wasn't so bad, but his jaw clenched at the sight of the network of swollen weals. It must be exquisitely tender to the touch, and yet she was willing to stay here to receive more strokes.

Irrationally, he again wanted to throttle her.

"How many strokes each time?" he asked, hearing the gruffness in his own voice.

"Ten." She turned back and her face paled as she tried to pull her tunic over her head.

He went to help her. "You can't take another ten."

The words were foolish and her look told him she thought so too. People could take the pain they had to. The only escape was death.

He rubbed a hand over his stubbly face. "When Galeran finds out I left you here . . ." He shook his head at the mere thought. "Come on. I'll get you out. Though I don't know how you're going to climb the wall—"

"No." She stepped away from his guiding hand. "You're correct about the king. Submission will carry more weight man intrusion. And think how my sufferings will cut my time in purgatory!" She threw it out as a joke, but her calm strength broke for a moment, causing her lips to tremble before she bit them. "Of your kindness, though, my friend, try to release me before sext."

He put out a hand to cradle her head, and drew her against his chest. She neither held him nor resisted, but the way she leaned for a moment told him much.

"It will soon be over," he said. "And I swear on my eternal soul to make sure that your sufferings are not in vain, that your cause is upheld. You have fought your fight and deserve victory. You will have your daughter, and Galeran, safe. And Raymond of Lowick will not die."

She pulled back at that, almost her usual self. "Or suffer in any significant way."

He wanted to throttle her again. There were any number of sufferings short of death. "Or suffer in any significant way," he agreed, adding with a sigh, "My life used to be simple once."

"I assume Aline has come to no great harm?"

It was not as irrelevant as it sounded, as they both knew.

"Yes. She was just creating a distraction. We can only hope your stern mother superior doesn't decide to punish her too. I must go."

"Thank you, Raoul. I will pray for you."

He kissed her hand. "And I will pray for you. God's strength be with you."

With that, Raoul peeped through the opening in the door. The cloister still appeared deserted, so he slipped out.

In fact, there was a sister walking at the far end near the chapel, but she didn't see him, and was soon out of view. Though he hated to do it, he locked the door again. As the lock clicked back into place, he heard the wail of an infant on the other side of the cloister.

He moved quickly away, retracing his route, suspecting that soon someone would be bringing Donata to her mother. He tried to imagine the course Jehanne had coolheadedly chosen for herself—feeding her baby every few hours, doubtless playing with Donata to summon baby smiles, then being beaten in between so that Galeran would not have to punish her.

And, in a way, so the man she had used would not suffer for her acts.

An extraordinary woman, but he was glad he wasn't married to her.

Since the coast seemed clear, Raoul went straight into the infirmary herb garden, fighting the temptation to go back to rescue Aline. What if she were even now being beaten for her escape?

He jumped up onto the roof of the infirmary, telling himself that a few strokes of the rod wouldn't do her any lasting harm. She'd doubtless had many such punishments in her life. He didn't think Aline was one to keep out of trouble all the time.

He ran lightly along the slope, wondering at himself. He'd never been one to turn squeamish over wounds and punishments. Life contained pain.

He wanted to guard Aline from all pain forevermore.

Foolishness.

But he seemed to be foolish these days.

He lay flat on the edge of the roof until a trio of gossiping women passed down the lane, then dropped down to the ground there. He brushed himself off and hurried toward Corser Street, wondering whether to tell Galeran about this after all.

He knew his friend would feel betrayed to have such matters hidden from him. On the other hand, to know about Jehanne's sufferings might muddy Galeran's thinking at the hearing. In fact, he might ignore the hearing in order to rescue his wife.

Logic said to keep Galeran in ignorance, but Raoul considered how he'd feel if the woman were Aline. By the time he reached Corser Street, Raoul was ready to tell Galeran all and let him decide how to handle it. Galeran, however, had already gone to Westminster, leaving a note asking Raoul to follow.

Raoul changed into a fresher and finer tunic, tormented now by the thought of Jehanne's next beating. It couldn't be very long to terce. He muttered curses to himself as he realized there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it. If he told Galeran at Westminster, by the time any action was taken it would be over.

He had to try, though.

In a mood to pick a fight with someone, he set off for Westminster on foot, since speed was more important than show.

He hurried past the man without recognizing him, then swung back. "Lord FitzRoger!"

The king's champion turned and stepped away from the three men-at-arms who accompanied him on some errand. It was clear that he recognized Raoul but couldn't remember his name, which was hardly surprising when he must have met hundreds in the past weeks.

"Raoul de Jouray, companion of Galeran of Heywood."

"Ah, yes. The lord of Heywood's matter is to be settled shortly. Are you lost, sir?"

"No. I'm on my way to Westminster. I have a concern you might be able to assist me with, though, if you would be so kind."

"I am not engaged in anything urgent."

Raoul had acted on impulse, and now he was running over it in his mind, seeking hazards. He saw none, but that didn't mean there weren't any. He couldn't, however, do nothing and ever face Galeran again.

"The Lady Jehanne of Heywood, Lord Galeran's wife, is being held at St. Hilda's convent."

"So I understand."

"She is being punished there, and as far as I know, not by the king's command."

FitzRoger had been politely attentive, but now he was interested. "By whose command, then? Her husband's?"

"By the Bishop of Durham's."

As a warrior himself, Raoul recognized the stillness that came over FitzRoger. "Indeed? And what form does this punishment take?"

"Ten strokes of the rod at each hour of prayer. I think it should be stopped before terce."

Instead of hurrying off, FitzRoger hooked a thumb in his belt. "It could be said that the lady deserves to suffer for her sins."

"Is that not a matter for her husband and the king? It seems to me that the bishop exceeds his powers."

FitzRoger studied him for a moment, clearly considering all the implications. Raoul hoped he didn't ask just how he knew all this.

"I will at the least halt the discipline. Thank you for alerting me, Sieur Raoul." With that, he turned and headed off toward the convent at reasonable speed. Raoul hurried toward Westminster, hoping FitzRoger would be in time.

As he entered the area near Westminster Hall, he heard city bells announcing terce and tried to estimate whether there had been time enough or not.

Then he put it out of his mind. It was beyond further action. The important thing now was to decide how to fulfill his promise to Jehanne. How to make her suffering worthwhile.

* * * * *

As she waited for terce, Jehanne wondered at herself. Perhaps Raoul could have found a way to take her out of here, away from pain. Away from the degradation of pain. That’s what she hated most—that her traitorous body would tremble and flinch, weep and cry out, when she wanted to be stoic.

But an attempt to take her with him might have jeopardized his own escape, and then he wouldn't have been able to take her words to the hearing. That was what really mattered. The hearing that would settle Donata’s future, and perhaps that of Galeran and Raymond too.

And she did deserve punishment.

She kept telling herself that.

She just had not expected it to hurt so much.

Sister Martha, anxious sympathy in her eyes, brought Donata to be fed, and Jehanne had a little time of peace concentrating on her baby. Surely after the bishop had overstepped himself by ordering her beatings, the king would not support his ruling and tear her baby from her arms?

But what of the rest of it, she wondered, trying to smile for the baby even as worries whirled through her mind and pain stabbed with every movement. What if it came to swords? If Galeran died, she could not bear it. If Raymond died, though, she could never rid herself of the guilt.

He'd protested quite firmly when she'd gone to him, tearing off her clothes. Was it possible for a woman to rape a man, for she felt as if that was what she had done, even if he'd enjoyed it in the end.

"She'd been mad with grief, of course, but did that excuse such sins?

Almost, when Sister Martha came to take Donata, and the mother superior came with her rod, she welcomed it.

Almost.

Jehanne's protesting body immediately began to tremble.

Chapter 19

Two other nuns accompanied the mother superior, for they had found last time that her body would no longer remain still under the pain. The sisters gripped her arms and turned her, pressing her down to her knees.

"May the Lord forgive his wretched sinner."

Jehanne managed to keep her voice steady as she said, "Amen."

But at the first cut, she screamed and struggled to escape the agony.

Before the third stroke she heard voices. Her only thought was that somehow the interruption had stopped more pain.

A commanding male voice. Galeran? No.

The mother superior, protesting. Arguing.

Then the controlling hands of the two nuns left her arms.