THE WARLORD (30 page)

"She acts as if nothing has happened," Evard whispered to Simon while the baroness was distracted by Miriam's company. His brow furrowed into a puzzled frown. "Nor has she started packing. Do you think it possible she doesn't realize that he will release her today?"

Simon nodded.
" 'Tis
possible he made no promises last night. The baron does not give in easily. In fact, he's never conceded anything that I know of. It might take him time to come to terms with this concession. We will know by evening meal if he intends to end this."

By the time Tess finished her dinner that night, her guards were looking downright bleak. They'd been unusually quiet all day, silent, alert, as if waiting for something.

Tess shrugged over the oddity. She closed the door behind the servants who filled her tub then lingered a good hour over her bath. The servants returned to haul the water away as she sat before the fire, brushing her hair dry and thinking over her day.

Helen had been quiet, too, though she ventured a few more questions about her betrothal that became embarrassing for both women. It didn't take long for Tess to realize that her own maidenly knowledge of marital relations had been vast compared to Helen's. Montague doubtless had plenty of trysting nooks the ladies of the castle were unlikely to stumble across, as Tess had stumbled across them at Langston Keep. Tess's healing skills with people as well as animals took her to birthings and exposed her to other more basic facts of life. Helen had yet to guess they existed. Aye, Fitz Alan was in for a time of it.

Helen's questions forced Tess to recall her own marriage, the kisses and caresses Kenric had given her so carelessly. Pining for them only made it worse. She tossed and turned restlessly on her bed for an hour or two before finally drifting off into an exhausted slumber.

Bertram nudged Simon nonchalantly with his foot late that night as he rose to greet the baron. None of the men were grinning when the baron emerged again hours later without a word. Their expressions reflected puzzled curiosity. The baroness greeted them as usual that morning, going about her day as if nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring at night. At dawn on the fourth day of this new routine, it finally occurred to Simon that Lady Tess might not be aware of her husband's visits.

"I noticed that you've been using more wood on your fire during the nights," he remarked, after she'd finished her breakfast that morning. "I can have the fire stoked with more logs before you retire each evening to save you the trouble of tending it yourself when the room grows too cold for… sleeping."

"I haven't been the least bit cold during the nights, Simon." Tess looked genuinely puzzled by his concern. "And I certainly haven't been tending my hearth at night."

"There is wood missing each morning from the stack I left the night before," he said reasonably, nodding toward the fireplace.

"I'm sure you're mistaken. The wood you lay in the fireplace at night has been quite enough to last until morning."

Simon nodded, his curiosity satisfied. Lady Tess had no idea that the baron had found a new torment for himself.

The king's herald and his escort were quite a sight to behold. Crowds gathered at the wayside of every village and hamlet they passed through on the road to Montague. Two pages led the parade of thirty soldiers, each holding a long, slender pole with an enormous banner stretched between the two. Everyone recognized the banner with three lions stitched in gold thread on a background of crimson silk. It was the king's coat of arms. Gold tassels fringed the impressive banner, their ends sparkling and fluttering in the breeze to draw attention.

The king's herald, a tall, dignified man named Vincent de Guille, rode at the center of the procession, his beard as long and snowy white as his hair. He wore the official robes of his station, the crimson and gold embroidered cloak pinned at one shoulder by three broaches, each in the shape of a lion. In his arms he carried a sturdy, banded chest. The king's missive rested safely inside, the scroll sealed and stamped with red wax against prying eyes.

Kenric knew of the herald's approach almost two full days before his arrival. News of such an important person traveled much faster than the traveler. Kenric made the necessary preparations, but he used the time to decide much more than what supplies would be necessary for the long journey to court. By the time the herald's entourage rode through the gates of Montague, he'd made his decision. After four nightly trips stealing into Tess's room under the cover of darkness, he knew those trips had to stop. Aye, it was time to put a stop to it all.

The herald was welcomed in the great hall, Kenric dispersing quickly with the pleasantries. After handing over the chest entrusted to him by the king, the herald looked surprised when Kenric tucked the chest under his arm and stood up to leave.

"Milord, you've no need to fetch a priest to read the king's word. I was sent along for that purpose."

"I've no need of a priest," Kenric said shortly. "I will read the message myself."

"Your pardon, baron," the herald said stubbornly. "But many men would have trouble deciphering these noble words. My duty is to ensure that the king's message is delivered in its entirety."

Kenric glanced down at the chest, eyeing the words that were engraved on the metal bands. Holding up the chest to eye level, he recited them for the herald without hesitation. "I will uphold the word of my sovereign, King Edward. Only God's word is higher." Kenric gave the herald an impatient glare. "Does that assure you that I am capable of reading the king's message?"

"Aye, milord."
The herald bowed as the baron turned and left the hall.

Kenric retreated to his chamber to read Edward's message in private. Spreading the parchment out on the table, he began picking his way through the courtly rhetoric and flourishing scripts of the scribe who was entrusted to write the king's messages. The elaborate seal at the bottom assured him the document was genuine, but part of the message surprised Kenric. He read it twice before he understood why the king would make any mention of an annulment. They both knew the MacLeiths would demand it, so there was little reason to remark upon the fact. The king was warning Kenric. MacLeith must be using the Church to pressure Edward into annulling the marriage because of Tess's pledge to MacLeith's son, Gordon. If the church took a strong stand in the matter, the situation could become serious. Aye, he was being warned to expect the worst. He wanted to laugh at the irony.

Rolling the parchment and tucking it under his arm, Kenric left his chamber and walked purposefully toward the solar. Tess's door was standing open, Simon and Evard hanging halfway into the room at the doorway, Helen and Miriam already inside. Tess was seated before her
tapestry,
wearing the same colorless dress he'd hoped would be burned by now.

"Out."

The single word emptied the solar of all but Tess and Kenric. The door closed and they were left alone. Tess hadn't seen Kenric since the joust. She stared at him openly as he gazed silently out her window. He looked as if he'd lost weight, his dark leather breeches and tunic not as snug as they usually were. Dark circles shadowed his eyes as if he'd been a long time without sleep. She could sense his tension and a disquieting difference in his solemn expression. Something was wrong.
Something serious.
He wasn't angry, but he was a man troubled. The feeling of dread that settled in the pit of her stomach said she didn't want to hear whatever it was he'd come to tell her. She was right.

"This marriage was a mistake," he said finally, in a voice that was not complaining but stating a simple fact.

"None will profit by its existence now or in the future. An annulment is the only solution."

Tess had longed to hear those very words weeks ago, prayed for them in the first days of her marriage. Her prayers had been answered. She vowed to never pray again in her life. She felt as if he was driving a knife into her heart. In a flicker of curiosity, she wondered if he'd felt any portion of this awful pain the day she'd told him she wanted an annulment. Nay, it was his pride that was injured that day, not his heart.

"The king's herald arrived with orders that we are to appear in court within two fortnights." He looked down at the parchment as if he'd forgotten its existence. He held up the scroll to show her the king's seal, the proof it was genuine, then he tossed it onto the mantle above the fireplace and clasped his hands behind his back. "You were right from the beginning. The king suggests an annulment as a way to take Remmington intact. The MacLeiths are also demanding an annulment, but I will turn you over to the king instead. After the abuse you have suffered from Gordon is made known, the king will break the betrothal agreement with the MacLeiths. You will be allowed to retire to a convent. Helen and Miriam will be allowed to accompany you to court. We leave on the morrow."

Without another word or even a glance, Kenric turned and left the room. Tess stared silently at the door, trying to absorb the news. He was letting her go. She had somehow won. There was never a greater feeling of loss. Her gaze moved around the room, knowing she'd not be locked in there much longer. That should make her very happy. Her days of imprisonment would end tomorrow.

Tess shook her head, knowing her days of misery were just beginning. She'd thought Kenric would forgive her in
time, that
the child she carried might sway him somehow, enough to allow her another chance to regain his trust. He didn't even know the child existed. It would be a month or more before her condition became obvious. If she remained silent, he might not even guess she was carrying until the marriage was over. Would it make a difference if he knew?

Tess wrapped her arms around her waist, as if protecting the slight bulge there. An annulment would be best. She'd known that from the moment the marriage began. Even the king agreed. Now Kenric did, too. The marriage would end, the MacLeiths would be forced to leave Remmington, and everyone could go about their lives as if this time had never been. Yet the proof of their time together would become obvious enough in the next few months. For the first time, she allowed herself to think beyond what would happen in the weeks after the annulment.

She would retire to a convent, probably the one near Kelso Abbey. Her child would be born there, allowed to stay with its mother should it be a girl, sent to the father if a
boy.
No matter how hard she'd prayed for a girl, Tess felt instinctively that it would not be. She would be robbed of even that part of Kenric. He would have his heir and Remmington, and she would have nothing. With a son, Kenric would surely see that Remmington prospered. He would keep her people safe and the lands protected. In a few years, no one would even remember she was alive. She would never see her child grow and she would never see her husband again. That would be the price she paid to spare Remmington a siege.

Tess stood up with her hands fisted at her sides. The price was too high! She was not that noble, could not sacrifice so much. Did she deserve nothing in life? What if the MacLeiths decided to keep Remmington, no matter what the Church said? Her sacrifice would be worthless, lives ruined and none spared. Tess began to wring her hands, growing frantic.

If Kenric knew of the babe, he might be talked out of the annulment. Would he truly go through with it, knowing he was agreeing to make his child a bastard? Would he destroy all of Remmington in a siege, knowing he wielded his sword over his child's future? She began to pace, contemplating other effects of upholding her marriage.

If Kenric kept her at Remmington, she might be permitted to know her child, perhaps to raise him the first few years. If allowed the freedom of the fortress, she could tend the ills and injuries of her people, assure them that they'd never been forgotten in her heart. She might even be allowed the duties of the household that would give purpose to her days. What reason would Kenric have to keep her locked away and idle at Remmington? Aye, the confines of marriage looked much more appealing than the veil of a convent. In time, Kenric might even forgive her.

There was little doubt in her mind that Kenric despised the name bastard. He would not knowingly give his child the same name. She was sure of it. Her argument against the annulment would be a strong one.
But what of the king?
She tried to rub that worry away from her brow, but knew it would not be dismissed that easily. If Edward insisted on an annulment, would Kenric go against the wishes of his sovereign to make his child legitimate?
To keep an unwanted wife?
There would be too many arguments against her. Not only would Kenric have an heir and Remmington, he would be rid of his wife and could keep his pledge to Guy. Their child would have no claim to Montague. That argument would be much stronger. Tess felt her hopes slipping already.

The parchment above the mantle caught her eye and she realized Kenric must have forgotten it in his haste to be away from her. There was little reason for him to be mindful of the document now that he'd read its message, and he would never suspect that she could make any sense of it. The carefully delivered scroll was useless after the contents were known and the parchment would likely end up in the kitchens to line the bottoms of bread pans, a common end to most documents. Thinking it might contain something useful to her cause, Tess spread the parchment on the table. The entire first paragraph consisted of an inane greeting, but the second paragraph got down to business, relating charges of kidnapping that had been brought against Kenric and the immediate annulment demanded by her family. It was the third paragraph that made Tess's mouth drop open in surprise. She read the first sentence three times.
Your king would find it grievous to see the marriage of his baron at Montague annulled
.

She read the remainder of the document carefully, yet there was no more mention of an annulment. The king did not want the marriage annulled. Kenric had lied to her. He intended to go
against
the wishes of his king. On the other hand, he could be lying about his intent to see the marriage annulled, simply to get her to court without argument. She stood up abruptly, her expression as firm as her will to know the truth. He was going to get an argument whether he wanted one or not. Determined to hear the truth from Kenric, Tess rolled the message and headed to her door. Simon and Evard were on the other side to stop her.

"Milady," Simon said pleadingly, holding on to her arm. "You cannot leave here."

"Remove your hand from my arm," Tess said, gazing down at Simon's hand. Simon was so surprised by the uncharacteristic coldness in her voice that he complied. "Move aside."

Simon moved to the center of the doorway to block her path more completely. "I cannot do that, milady."

"You will move aside, or I will move you myself."

Simon smiled down at the delicate baroness, as if picturing her forcibly moving him. When Tess drew the small knife she wore at her waist, he quit smiling. "Baroness, be reasonable."

"Aye, milady.
We cannot allow you to leave," Evard piped in, eyeing the dagger nervously. "The baron would have our heads."

Tess's gaze moved slowly from Evard to Simon, knowing there was more than one way to get what she wanted.

"Your baron's life is in danger," she lied, satisfied when Simon's eyes grew wider. "Do you keep me from him now, he will die."

Simon hesitated. He was looking at Tess's hand, the one nervously twisting her braid. He stepped aside. "The baron is in his chamber, milady."

"But—" Evard stepped forward to protest. Simon planted his elbow in Evard's mid-section.
"Ooof!"

"Stand aside, Evard. We shall escort the baroness to her husband."

The nearer they came to the bedchamber door, the less certain Tess grew of the wisdom in confronting Kenric. Aye, this was foolish. But it was too late to turn back. Simon had already rapped on the door. She put her hand on the latch but Simon shook his head and pushed her behind his back. He rapped on the door then waited for Kenric's order to enter.

The sight of Simon in his doorway made Kenric bolt upright from his chair, his sword already in hand. Simon held up his hand to stop him. "The baroness is safe, milord. She believes you are in danger and has reason to fear for your life." Simon pulled Tess to his side. "We felt it necessary to bring her here in all haste."

Kenric sheathed his sword, his eyes never leaving his wife. "Close the door behind you, Simon."

Tess's gaze swept slowly around the bedchamber, noting that little had changed. She heard the door close and finally allowed herself to look at Kenric. His arms were crossed against his chest and his feet braced, waiting for her to explain what urgency brought her here.