The Troubadour's Romance (7 page)

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Authors: Robyn Carr

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BOOK: The Troubadour's Romance
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Boltof

s eyes darkened and he frowned.

You stand in better stead with the king,

he complained.


Tis a common fact. I would not have asked for assist, had I known how niggardly you hold your influence.


My influence is bigger in your mind,

Royce returned.

And if I do have the power to persuade the king,

tis only because I have never tried.

Celeste let her lips come close enough to Royce

s ear so that he felt her breath on his cheek.

Have this matter done
for Boltof,

she pleaded sweetly.

He plagues you and makes you forget that we have plans that need attention.

He turned to her then with the patient smile that had become a habit for him. He judged her soft, pale features yet again, reassuring himself that she was lovely enough. Celeste was older than a maid just venturing toward mar
riage, and Royce had finally conceded that they should be wed. She had, after all, yielded him more than was decent for him to take. In addition, she sought out no more eager groom, but was patient with his brooding reluctance and had held herself for him for five years.

He had first met Boltof a decade and a half before, when they were lads completing their training for knighthood. Through Boltof he had made the acquaintance of his sister, Celeste, and their stepfather, Lord Orrick, and from that time on, the young woman had had her sights on him for her husband. Royce had not felt any immediate stirring, but as time passed he became fond of Celeste and valued Boltof s friendship. He added to that a deep respect for Lord Orrick. The old lord was in fact the member of their family with whom Royce felt the most kinship.

For a very long time he had felt a strange nagging about Boltof and Celeste, who were plagued by his resistance to joining with them by marriage. He could often shrug off the feelings as usual for a man without family ties, whose love of adventure outpaced his need for a wife. Sometimes a deeper foreboding threatened; Royce had often considered that it would be for the good of all if he left no heirs. In any case, finding a proper dame to wed concerned him least of all, and he had to be hurried to the decision for Celeste by her stepfather and brother. Lord Orrick had just a few months past announced himself.

The marriage of my daughter is of imminent necessity if I am to see her thrive rather than shrivel. You may speak for her, sir knight, or have done with her affections.

Royce begged time to put his house in order before any betrothal contract was drawn, and the Lord, ever gallant in his dealings, allowed for the new year to be reached and the betrothal and wedding done swiftly after.

Still, his decision troubled him. He had no reason to
distrust these people who had loyally held his friendship dear. Indeed, he owed them much. Yet comfort with the commitment had never come.


Say me nay, if you will,

Boltof demanded.

Royce tried to calm the restive feelings he had about the entire situation. He didn

t like going to Henry on anyone

s behalf, and had the request come from anyone but Boltof, he would have swiftly refused. And the wench, although fair of face and endowed handsomely, caused him some suspi
cious feelings. He sought a middle ground where Boltof might feel the weight of his loyalty and yet give him enough time to evaluate the situation better.

I would not refuse you this, Boltof,

he finally said.

I owe much to your family, and if you must believe I have some power with Henry, then we will see the truth to it. But I would have more time to design my words. And you must seek a closer view of the damsel whose hand you would bid for and be sure that this is the course you should take.

Boltof smiled at Royce and nodded his head firmly. He took the reply not as avoidance, but as a firm resolution from Royce

s own lips.


When all these weddings have been done,

Boltof said with a smile,

we shall begin seeding an army on our mutual lands, and the whole of our family will know wealth and power. Twas a good day that our paths crossed, Royce. I will long be grateful.

Royce looked at Celeste, who smiled prettily and locked her arm within his. The two of them seemed certain that all their plans for betrothals, weddings, and future sons would be settled to their satisfaction. Royce earnestly wished he could feel as sure.

 

 

 

Three

 

The bells to early-morning mass could be heard in the courtyard of the castle, and from the window of her chamber
Felise
could see Eleanor venture there,
with her ladies following at a
fair distance. Beyond, subtly but nevertheless apparent, were guards and knights that roamed freely and with watchful eyes. Their purpose was unques
tionable. Eleanor was not trusted by her husband for a moment.

Richard, duke of Aquitaine, had long been known for his religious zeal and was likewise enroute to mass, accompanied by clergy wearing ornate and rich robes. From her high perch
Felise
marveled at his majesty. He was a tall and handsome m
an, his clothing rich and impec
cable. One could see him at the head of a grand army, for he carried himself as if he would be at ease com
manding.

Felise
turned from the window to make her own way to chapel, her head covered and her beads and crucifix in her hand. By the time she reached the courtyard, most of those attending mass had already gone inside, and she was relieved that she would be kneeling at the rear of the chapel with the backs of these high-powered nobles to her and not
their eyes. It had taken no time at all to notice that people stared at her.

It was the beginning of
only her second day at Windsor;
this eve she would be joined by her parents. The place did not hold the magic and intrigue she thought to find, and, in truth, her thoughts roved in confusion in her mind. With all those friends of her brothers and sons of her father

s acquaintances, she had never been properly courted or asked for her hand. If a case had been brought to Lord Scelfton, he hadn

t mentioned it. She found herself ill prepared for her mother

s oath that marriage for her was urgent.

She judged the backs of the ladies, lords, and knights. Some older gentlemen were thin or slumped; some knights were broad-shouldered, some paunchy and thick. She knew naught of their holdings, possessions, skills, or habits. In truth, she could be given to some Welsh lord or a knight from the northern clans if her father judged his lot to be worthy and the king and queen found it favorable. And how could that be determined? Surely not by the same standards by which
Felise
would choose. Harlan would not consider the handsomeness of the man or the gentleness of his nature. Eleanor might be moved by his artful verse and not his honorable nature. Would Henry care more for a man strong of arms than for a man youthful enough to be a good father to sons?

My lady mother is more wise than I allowed,
she thought forlornly. The droning Latin of the bishop faded from her ears. She recited the mass out of habit, not thinking about her prayers but occupied with other thoughts:
I have watched my friends marry and given no thought to my own wedding. They have delivered their children while I have dallied with my stitchery or my mare, and in all this time, I have never considered the men who might ask for me. I play maiden

s games with knights as if I were kept safe in some tower, far from being touched, yet before this week is out, some man will own me. Why have I slept through these years in which I might have at least looked and offered my parents some hint of my preference?

It was no fault of her family, for they had often men
tioned her dowry, her prospects, and made some introduc
tions. For herself, although she had taken pains with pleas
ing her mother as she was taught the management of a household, she had played at womanhood and measured herself by the rod that a child uses. She had ignored the fact that she would one day marry and bear a child, and now that day was upon her.

The hour passed slowly, Felise rising and falling to her knees, praying over her beads and keeping her head bowed. It was easier, somehow, to steal this time from mass for brooding than to find solace in her rooms, where Daria would question her. When the bishop was finished, she fled the chapel quickly. Her place near the rear made her flight easier, and she managed the whole mass without being spoken to by anyone.

The lady Vespera had been accurate when describing the gardens. They were well pruned, and the promise of beauty come spring was evident, despite the barren and brown landscape that
Felise
found. There were paths and benches, all leading to a central courtyard where people would gather for community.
Felise
walked lazily about the area, hardly looking at the planters, trees, or statues, but concentrating on her foolhardy dismissal of adult concerns. Finally, unresolved, she began her way back to her rooms.

The halls were cold and dank, giving promise to the thought of a blazing hearth. There was no merriment for her now, and she wished to be in the inn with her parents and brothers, or better still, home in the Twyford keep where the servants were her friends and the villeins her playmates. She swept her hood off her head and let it fall around her shoulders. As she walked down the long, dark corridor toward the back stairs to her rooms, she considered her good fortune in knowing the way, for this great palace was a maze of halls and galleries and rooms. She paused suddenly, listening.


Aye, demoiselle, you are followed.

She turned abruptly and saw Sir Royce poised just a few paces behind her, leaning casually against the wall. He was free of his warring accoutrements now, wearing chausses and tunic in his colors of red and gold. On his left breast he wore his
family blazon and on his finger
a rich ruby in the crest.

Her eyes flashed in anger, though perhaps fear would have been more appropriate.

Why do you follow me, sir?

He moved toward her at a leisurely pace and seemed unperturbed by her discomfort.

More out of curiosity than anything, maid Felise. I wondered at your roamings through the grounds and halls. Do you court danger, or has some lover failed to keep his appointment?


I would bid no man keep an appointment alone with me,

she quickly replied, aghast at his blatant accusation.


Ah, the danger, then,

he replied with a smile. He reached a finger toward her collar where her hair, shimmer
ing golden in the torch
-
lit hall, had collected and bunched, the bulk of it buried beneath her mantle. A deft finger pulled a long lock of it forward, and he tested its smoothness between his thumb and forefinger. Felise stood numbed by his f
amiliarity,
experiencing his action as if she were an observer rather than a participant. Finally realizing he did this freely without her protest, she snatched her hair away from him.


I was told I was safe in Henry

s house,

she flung at him.

I trust I would not have been bidden to walk these halls freely had anyone known you were about.

His laughter, deep and low, sent a chill up her back, and the hairs at the base of her neck stood up.

Demoiselle, you have been crudely misinformed. Did Sir Wharton perhaps bid you roam?


Nay,

she answered, growing more uncomfortable with his presence every moment.


Good,

Royce replied.

He would likely hide himself in some dark corner and pounce upon you. His treatment of women is not gentle, it is said.

Felise tried to summon courage and stood as erect as possible, but in her hands her beads trembled.

Tis you, sir knight, lurking in the dark hall
.
.. and Sir Wharton warned me of your treatment of women.

Again the tall knight laughed, a soft and rather seductive rumbling. His teeth were bright in this dim space, and his hair seemed to be threaded with gold. The cool and distant brown eyes had warmed and darkened. He studied her face, his smile fading even as his eyes smouldered, and Felise
could not decide whether it was fear she felt or a surge of desire.

Wharton was handsome, a thing she could not lay to Royce. His roughened looks were further marred by a scar across one brow and a nose bent twice in its arch. She wondered at his strange appeal, for his face suggested something rugged and
dangerous. He seemed more barba
rous than the average English knight, resembling her idea of a Viking or German warrior. His build was generous, the strength in his shoulders and upper arms frightening, and in his smile there was a hint of devilish glee, and her knees began to weaken.


Wharton knows nothing of my treatment of women,

he said softly.

I treat very few.

Felise

s eyes widened at the crude remark, yet in her only experience with the man, this was typical. He played no courtly games, did not give her compliments where they might find a willing target, and his only verbal expressions were tinged with vulgarity. Her mouth moved well ahead of her mind.

You are not chivalrous, but roguish when you speak.


And you would have charm, my lady?

he asked, his eyes swiftly sweeping her well-covered form, amusement marking his features.

Wharton does cosset the maids well. I admit, I am not skilled in this, yet I know my mind. I know what I want. And I know how to give back full score what I am given.


Charm would yield more than rude remarks,

she returned easily.

Why are you curious of me? Do you feel anger, still, from my foolery with your knights?


Nay.

He shrugged.

The men enjoy the harlot

s game from time to time.


Jesu, you spare no
dignity with your insults, sir,
I but entered the chase from safe distance.



Tis your great inheritance and the bait you set for suitors that draw my interest, Lady
Felise
. How many have spoken without benefit of an introduction?


I know nothing of what
--


The trap of your land in France, your dower purse in England ... the price of your great wealth has spread
amongst the circles of men with debts to pay. How will you choose? More important, who will approve your choice? Is it the king?


Sir Royce, I fear you are mistaken,

she attempted, shaken by his remarks.


How can I be? This I have heard from many sources, that you are here by royal command and your purpose is to achieve a marriage to make the king a good political alliance.


Nay,

she said, shaking her head.

Lest you fall victim to wagging tongues,

tis a simple misunderstanding. My mother, close to the queen before Eleanor

s removal to Old Sarum Castle, leaves a modest dowry of lands that have been managed by a castellan in France. The dowry my father provides is likewise modest. It comes to not more than is adequate, neither plot being large enough to make much matter or yield much revenue. I am here only for a brace of days to enjoy the court because of this old friend
ship.

Felise
knew that he would not discern the difference between the natural mother she could not remember and Lady Edrea. They could be one and the same, from her telling.


This is a hoax?

he asked, frowning.


I think that the story, while truthful enough, ha
s grown lar
ge in the minds of ambitious men. As to choice, I trust my father will judge my betrothed, not the king.

She turned sharply then, intending to flee from his presence, but he snatched her arm and drew her back to him.


Don

t fly, cher
ie,

he said, holding her much too closely. She looked up into his eyes, first frightened by his strength and nearness and also confused by his strange pursuit. He seemed to scorn her, as if she were the last woman on earth he would be bothered with, yet he had followed her and now held her so that she could not move.

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