Conquering William (16 page)

Alice stared at him with wide eyes.

“My love.” William put his hand on her slight shoulder. “I am sure you will share my delight in the news we are to foster seven of Aonghas’s sons.”

“We are?” Alice’s voice grew weak. “When?”

“No time like this one.” Aonghas sprang to his feet with a grin.

William’s hackles rose at the sudden change in demeanor.

Puffing out his chest, Aonghas said, “I brought them all with me.”

Of course he had. William could not prevent his smile. Aonghas had come here determined to win the day.

“Lads!” Aonghas bellowed loud enough to startle lice. “Get yourselves in here.”

An unkempt gaggle of hulking Scots shuffled into the hall. Wild hair, bearded faces, and covered in furs, they resembled an army of barbarian marauders.

William guessed he’d probably gotten the worst end of a devil’s bargain.

Aonghas’s smug expression confirmed it. He pointed. “That be Domnall, Dubhghall, Donnchadh, Domnall, Aonghas, Seamus, and Domnall. You need not concern yourselves with the rest of them.”

Dear God, what an ugly lot, and massive. William did not care to speculate on the size of their mothers given their diminutive sire.

“Good morrow.” Alice managed a weak smile.

“Greet Lady Alice,” Aonghas thundered.

A deep rumble came from the lads. One made an attempt at a bow. William thought it might be the third Domnall, but who could tell beneath all that hair.

“Meet Sir William. He is to have the training of you lot.” Aonghas strutted like a bantam cock before his towering sons. “Now he may look like a pretty southerner to you lot, but that man drives a bargain to make a Scots mother’s heart sing. That sword he wears is not a nice bauble either, and he knows how to use it. If any one of you fancies your chances, remember Dunstan.”

Alice peeked at him from the corner of her eyes. No doubt Aonghas had eyes and ears in their household.

God grant him strength. His bones ached from the idea of bashing this lot into order, and from the fire in their eyes, it would take a fair amount of bashing.

“Now.” Aonghas spun about, rubbing his hands. “Let us break bread together, and seal our bargain. The rest of us leave at first light.” He winked at William. “With that list from Gord.”

William mentally added a bushel more items to Gord’s list.

Alice sent the order to the kitchens that there would be many more mouths to feed.

“You there. Dubhghall.” Aonghas snapped his fingers at a son with dark, tousled hair and light eyes.

“I am Donnchadh.”

“I care not. Go and fetch those fox pelts for my pretty wee bird.” He winked at William. “It pays to take a hard line and a harder hand with this lot. Happens I also thought Lady Alice would look right bonnie wrapped in fox.”

William’s laugh built in his belly. Aonghas had trussed him up like a Christmas goose.

With great difficulty, Alice modulated her tone. “We can tear these linens into strips for bandages.”

Lord knew, not a day passed in the sennight Aonghas’s sons had joined them that did not require the wrapping of one Scot or another. Having the lot of them bathed had almost ended in a nasty brawl. William drove them hard, and they fought back as hard, but her William had the better of them.

Nice boys, whose ages ranged from fourteen to twenty. Old for training as squires but they threw themselves into the task. They slept in the barracks with the men, and worked as hard as any man-at-arms. Alice had a soft spot for Seamus. Turned fourteen summer past, at least as tall as his oldest brother, he brought her little tributes at the end of the day. A late sprig of heather he discovered while out riding, a pretty stone from the stream where he bathed. He missed his mother, he had whispered to her in confidence. He liked nothing more than sitting beside her and listening to the stories told in the hall after dinner. Dubhghall, the budding charmer, newly shaved and trimmed, already plowed a swathe through the keep hearts at only seventeen. What he lacked for in looks, he more than compensated for with his silver tongue, and roguish humor.

“These linens are still good.” Sister refolded the linens with sharp, jerky movements. “It is not our way to toss away good linens for naught.”

Alice tried for patience, God’s promise she did, but with more tasks mounting on her shoulders every day, Sister and her constant opposition wore thin. “We will replace the linens.”

“I see.” Sister sniffed. “I do not know why you seek my opinion if you dismiss it without a thought.”

Alice had not asked her opinion. Sister had followed her and taken it upon herself to interfere. As she did when Alice visited the buttery to request herbs in the butter. Or when Alice planned the meals with Cook for the week. Whatever she did, Sister came with her. “I must take up my role as chatelaine.”

“You are right.” Sister hugged the folded linens to her chest. “Perhaps it is time I return to the convent. As I am no longer needed here.”

William would curse her for saying this, but Sister had cared for Alice since childhood. She could not send her back like a horse that had outlived its usefulness. “Of course not, Sister. How would I manage without you?”

“You appear to manage quite well. Although these wasteful ways of yours will lead you astray, Alice.”

“You have always been part of Tarnwych. This is your home.” Alice touched her arm.

Sister shook her off. “My home is where the Lord needs me most.”

“I need you,” Alice said. Perhaps not as much as she used to, but Sister had been her rock for so many years, Alice could not think of a life without her.

The tower guard’s voice came through the open casement, muted by the thick stone. Another result of William’s training: mounted guards at all times. “Mounted party approaching!”

Visitors! Time past, Alice dreaded visitors, knowing it meant a visit from her father. But life seemed filled with endless discoveries since her marriage, and she strode toward the keep door.

William stood on the ramparts, his head facing Tarnwych’s approach road. He pumped his fist in the air and yelled, “Open the gates.”

Alice trotted into the bailey, keen to see who William welcomed so effusively. “Who is it?” she called as the gates creaked open.

“My family.” William grinned at her and ran toward the gate. “Dragon’s heard proper on argent. They fly my father’s banner.”

William’s family. Alice stopped in the middle of the bailey. His family had come to visit?

“Alice.” Sister pinched her arm. “You cannot allow this.”

“They are William’s family.”

“You know what they are like. He brings them into this castle, and they carry their sins with them. You must stop this.” Sister’s grip on her arm grew painful.

Through the open gates, the leading riders wove into view. It seemed a large party.

William waved to the lead knight.

The knight raised his fist and spurred his horse into a gallop. He reached William and flung himself from his horse. Throwing back his visor, he strode forward and clasped William’s arm.

Sister hissed in a sharp breath. She had grown parchment pale, her eyes burning. “It is him.”

“Who?”

The man removed his helm. He stood taller than William as they spoke. Built strong, with hair of deepest sable, Alice did not remember him from her wedding feast.

“The betrayer who denied our Blessed Son and entered into an unholy marriage.”

Sir Gregory? He had not accompanied Lady Faye to the wedding. Lady Mary had told her his business, unfortunately, took him elsewhere. Alice took a small step closer. Sir Gregory had married Lady Faye, turning his back on his promise to enter the church.

“His soul is blacker than the hair on his head.” Sister wrapped her rosary about her fist so tight it cut white flesh trails across her fingers. “If he enters this keep, God will rain down punishment on all who shelter him.”

Sir Gregory did not look like a hardened sinner. His features were carved and graven, a handsome man in a quiet, earnest manner.

Another rider breached the gates and drew rein before William in a flourish of mud and hooves.

Lady Beatrice, dressed as no modest woman should in chausses and a tunic. Alice would never dare such raiment, but it would make for comfortable riding. Beatrice slid to the ground and William enfolded her in a hug.

“The immodest one.” Sister sneered. “She married a common bastard, a blacksmith’s apprentice.”

Alice had heard it all before, in the weeks between her father informing her of her marriage and William’s arrival at Tarnwych. Sister’s ire had not lost one ounce of its venom. Indeed, Sister wound her rosary so tight her fingertips purpled. She would break the rosary if she persisted.

Following behind Beatrice came a woman on a quiet palfrey, riding amidst three children.

William hugged first one child and then the other.

Sister gave a strangled cry. She leapt back, hands clasped at her chest. “The abomination.”

William assisted the last child from his mount.

A boy, his features flat, sloe eyes tilted upward, shambled toward William.

A low buzzing filled Alice’s head. Her heart stuttered and then beat erratically. Fine sweat broke over her body. She stepped back and bumped into a frozen Sister.

“He cannot enter here.” Sister clutched Alice’s skirt and tugged. “Get it away from here. Alice, get it away.”

Her voice had risen and carried across the bailey. The party by the gate turned and looked at them.

On a strangled cry, Sister ran back inside the keep.

Alice could not move. Her feet were nailed to the floor. The child had his arms about William’s waist as he stared up at his older brother with obvious adoration. She wanted to yank William away from him. Pull him to safety. Her vision wavered.

“Alice.” William strode toward her, his face creased in a frown. “What is it?”

“Nay.” The boy stayed back with the others, but she could not look away. “They cannot.”

“Alice?” William took her by the shoulders.

“You cannot let them in.” Alice’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on the hauberk William had donned this morning. “William, they cannot come in here.”

He stared at her as if she had lost her wits. “Alice, they are my family. Of course they will come in.”

Words deserted her, even thought would not conform to order. She only knew that if that boy entered Tarnwych it would be bad, very bad. “Make them go away.”

William’s face hardened as his grasp on her shoulders tightened. “Stop it, Alice. My family has travelled from Anglesea to seeks succor here, and they will find it.” He gave her a small shake. “Now, come and welcome my family, or go to your chamber, but they will enter Tarnwych.”

She could not. Alice shook her head.

With a grating sound of anger, William turned about and stalked back to the waiting party at the gate.

* * * *

William’s hands shook with anger. He took them away from Alice before he gave in to the urge to shake her harder, shake some sense into the woman. What in God’s name ailed her? Did she expect he would turn his family away?

She scurried back to the keep.

Good. Let her go. He could not stomach her at this time. The news from Anglesea filled him with the need to throw back his head and roar his denial to the heavens.

Illness had struck his family home, and rampaged through the occupants and the village beyond. Beatrice said many had succumbed to illness already, and more fell to the ailment hourly. Many familiar faces had left this world in the last fortnight. Lyman, the smith, was one of the first to die. And Lilly, sweet Lilly, who had initiated most of the lads at Anglesea into the ways of the flesh, was gone, along with her young son. So many it tore through him to listen further.

Beatrice and the children had travelled to Tarnwych for their own safety. As one of the few still able to defend the contagion-beset keep, Garrett could not accompany her.

And his mother, his beautiful, strong, gracious, adoring mother. William missed his step and stumbled. Lady Mary had fallen ill as the party for Tarnwych made ready to leave. She had exhausted herself nursing first their father, then Roger, and every other ailing soul at Anglesea. Father was on his feet once more, but Roger sickened still. He could not think of his large, powerful brother in anything but lusty good health.

Gregory had not given him the full extent. He did not need to. William read the grim truth carved into Gregory’s face and reflected in the haunted look in Bea’s eyes.

Hoping to contain the plague within, Sir Arthur had locked Anglesea. Faye remained at Calder with her sons, mere days away from delivering her first child by Gregory. With Gregory’s family safe at Calder, Father had called on him to escort Beatrice, her children, and Mathew to Tarnwych and safety. Ivy had come along with them, despite her desire to stay and help. If any of their party carried the contagion with them, Ivy would recognize it and act.

Damn Alice if she thought he would send them away at any time, doubly so now.

Tired lines and shadows marred Ivy’s beautiful face as she gathered Beatrice and the children together and shepherded them toward the keep. William would lay all his coin Ivy had worked as hard, nay harder, than anyone at Anglesea. Her tutelage under Nurse progressed well, and Ivy had an endless well of compassion for the sick and injured.

William pressed his eyes shut. Never more so than now did he curse the yawning distance betwixt himself and his family. Sir Arthur needed him, and here he sat in a remote northern keep, playing chatelaine and addressing whatever new basic lack Tarnwych tossed up. Father relied on him to succor this small family group, and so he would.

“Is Lady Alice well?” Ivy picked up Beatrice’s youngest and propped him on her hip. At just shy of his second birthday, Adam had ridden with Ivy for most of the journey. Three-year old Richard had shared a mount with Mathew.

Mathew had a way with animals. He earned their instant trust, and he rode even before he could walk. On horseback he had a grace and ease of movement that defied the little lad on the ground.