My Lady Imposter (15 page)

“They will not wish to swear allegiance to you,” Damien told her the evening before. “You are a woman, and women are not always to be trusted. They can be weak, but then so are men. You must be worthy of that loyalty, my lady. You must be strong.”

“And if they still refuse to give it?”

The solemn eyes lit up. “Then you must make war on them, my lady. Their lands are your lands, after all. They pay you for their use. Their loyalty is your right as a de Brusac. You must show traitors no mercy.”

Wise words. She mulled them over and knew he was right. She would have their loyalty, and then if she ever needed to raise an army against Ralf... But why did not Richard show some sign of his intentions! If only she knew what to think.

She was weary and aching when they stopped on the first day, as the sky darkened with the cold, early darkness of winter. The nuns from the hospice came to greet her, and Richard lifted her down so gently her eyes flew uncertainly to his.

The ride seemed to have invigorated him rather than tired him, arid his face was flushed, his eyes gleaming with life. “The distance will be shorter tomorrow,” he said. “We need to go quickly, or I would let you rest here for a day.”

His concern made her suspicious, and at her glance he laughed. “Do you think it does me good for them to see you white and ill, my love? Vassals do not look to sickly women for leadership and strength.”

He turned away impatiently, calling for Emma to attend her mistress.

She slept heavily and dreamlessly, waking to Emma’s soft voice, telling her they must hurry and breakfast, as my lord was stamping to be on his way. He had told her the truth. The distance this day was much shorter. They came upon the stone walls of the first of their vassals just before noon, and after announcing themselves, were allowed into the castle itself.

It was much easier than Kathryn had imagined. The man, curious at first, soon swore his loyalty to her. The difficulties melted away. They saw the de Brusac eyes and coloring; they saw Richard’s determination; they were won.

After that, Kathryn almost enjoyed it. She would have liked to remain longer in each household, being entertained and learning about her vassals. But Richard seemed determined to get it done as swiftly as possible, and she was afraid his motives were to do with Ralf and the King’s promised New Year visit.

By the time they reached the final vassal, they were both weary and longing for de Brusac’s safe, familiar walls. And it was the final vassal who caused the most concern.

The keep was small, but tidy, and the servants and soldiers efficient. The vassal, a big, bluff man, came to greet her, kissing her fingers in the approved manner. “My lady,” he said, dark eyes sliding over her in a way she decided was insolent. As if she were indeed only a peasant girl.

He had veined cheeks, and beneath the fresh clothes he had donned for the occasion, his body smelt sweaty and dirty. Sir Edmund, her loyal subject, washed infrequently.

“Sir Edmund,” she murmured, bowing her head slightly, and drew back her hand. Behind her, Richard stepped forward and she introduced him stiffly. They had grown no closer during their travels. Indeed, if it were possible, they saw even less of each other than before.

Sir Edmund’s eyes brightened at the sight of a man. He brushed past Kathryn, almost rudely, in his efforts to greet a fellow creature. Behind him a pale woman was revealed, thin to the point of brittleness, her graying hair plaited severely beneath her veil. Hollow eyes flickered to Kathryn and away, as she scuttled forward to offer wine.

At the same moment, Sir Edmund stepped back, suddenly remembering his duty to Kathryn and the fact that, mere woman or not, she was his liege lady. He bumped against his wife, causing her to spill the wine down his back. It ran in a great stream into his hose and boots. There was a hush, and then in a rush of fury he spun and, lifting his hand, struck her cheek with a resounding crack.

“Out of my way, woman!”

There was another silence. Kathryn felt the blood rushing to her face, clouding her senses with a red-hot fury. She had raised her own fist before she knew it, and brought it down with all her slender force upon that broad back.

Sir Edmund spun to face her, his gooseberry eyes popping in astonishment. Then, with a low growl, he raised his fist. He would have struck her, she was sure. But Richard stepped in front of her, shielding her, and caught the punch, as it was launched, with his hand. His fingers turned white with the effort of holding it back—Sir Edmund was bigger and heavier than he—and Kathryn heard him say, his voice a whip:

“Do you dare to strike your lady?”

There was a clank and a shuffle as Kathryn’s men-at-arms closed ranks about her. She felt the sweat of fear beading her brow and smelt fear and rage and death, like a cloud in the air.
Richard’s coiled strength was evident in the corded muscles of arms and shoulders, the white strain about his mouth.

And then, suddenly, Sir Edmund seemed to realize the enormity of what he had almost done. His arm dropped limply, the big shoulders slumped, and he fell to his knees, gabbling excuses and begging forgiveness. “How could I know? She is a woman. I forgot. Women are to be beaten into submission. How could I remember she is different?”

Kathryn slipped to Richard’s side, her fingers cool on his hand, where it clenched the sword hilt. He looked at her in surprise, and she saw the remains of his anger drawn from his face. Edmund had threatened him through her, she reminded herself. He was only protecting his own interests. And yet she felt a sting of pleasure, at his so prompt defense.

“You are forgiven, Sir Edmund,” she said, her voice strong and cold. “And now you must beg the forgiveness of your wife.”

The eyes flashed, the red face turned redder, but as he opened his mouth on a snarl, Richard said abruptly:

“Do it.”

The struggle between rage and pride and good sense was brief. The latter won, and Sir Edmund rose and went to where his wife stood, head bowed, clutching her cheek. “I’m... I’m sorry,” he muttered, and brushed past her, striding to
wards the door into the hall. Kathryn released her breath with an audible sigh, and stepped quickly towards the other woman, saying gently, “Here, let me see your cheek.”

The hollow eyes stared at her a moment in disbelief, and then as suddenly the white face crumpled into a flood of tears. Kathryn caught her, almost stumbling back before the onslaught, as the woman clung, sobbing, to her shoulders. “Come now, come now,” she murmured. “Dry your eyes. You should not let him see you so overset.” She glanced back at Richard, but he seemed grim and angry, and met her eyes coldly.

“Take her in,” he said shortly. “I’ll settle the men and horses.” And as she hesitated, “Go on!” She scuttled away as swiftly as Sir Edmund’s wife.

After a time, the woman recovered enough to act the hostess, and saw to food and bed and bathing. Emma scorned her as a poor creature, but Kathryn felt a throb of pity. Did she not know how it was to be unloved and unwanted? To be beaten and treated as unworthy even of simple human kindness?

“If she didn’t look so scared of being hit all the time, my lady, she wouldn’t be hit,” Emma pronounced cynically.

“Do you mean that if I went about like a mouse, Sir Richard would beat me?” Kathryn retorted.

Emma’s dark eyes considered. “Mayhap you should try it and see, my lady. Though I doubt he would hurt
you,
when he’s so besotted with you.”

Kathryn gaped. “Besotted? Your wits are addled, girl!”

Emma laughed softly, “Are they? I watched him protect you, my lady. I watched his face grow white and angry, afterwards, when he thought of what might have been.”

“You don’t understand,” Kathryn murmured. The anger was for himself, all for himself. He did not even like her.

They ate in the hall, good plain fare, a hearty meal. Sir Edmund seemed to have forgotten all about the incident in the yard, and spoke to Richard in a loud, blustery voice while Kathryn drew conversation from his wife. “Like sucking water from a stone,” she told Emma, later. Afterwards, the women retreated to the bower, leaving the men to their wine and talk. But not before Richard had drawn her aside for swift words.

“I would force that fool to do homage to you now,” he said, blue eyes mocking, “but I can see it would not answer. And we must have his allegiance, Kathryn. Disloyal vassals are the devil to deal with, and like as not will breed more disloyalty.”

“We could replace him.”

He frowned. “I thought of that, but no. We have not the time, and in all ways he seems a good and loyal man. He defends his castle and land, he works it well and feeds his servants. I can find no fault with him apart from this foolishness concerning women. He thinks them the weaker sex.”

She met his look with arched brows. “And do you not think that too, my lord?”

For a moment she thought he might smile. “I have met Queen Eleanor.”

Sir Edmund’s wife, Elizabeth, seemed to be much more assured when she was alone with Kathryn in the bower. They spoke of household matters, and then of children. “My own have all been stillborn,” the woman murmured softly, and shrugged. “My husband wishes divorce, and I must admit I would be glad of it. But where would I go?”

Kathryn sighed. “Does he hurt you so much and so often?”

Frightened eyes flickered to hers and away.

“You may tell me, I shall not berate you.”

“Do not tell him that I’ve told you!” she breathed, white-faced. “He has forbidden me to speak to others about my foolishness.”

“Foolishness!” Kathryn gasped. “I am his liege lady. You may tell me anything you wish.”

Elizabeth hesitated, but Kathryn’s grand manner won her over, and she began to speak. Slowly at first, but growing in confidence. It poured out, the tale of horrors and woe and cruelty. Kathryn listened in silence, straight-faced, while inside her blood cooled in horror.”Were there men really so cruel, so savage and so brutal? In the end, she was glad that the soft voice faltered and stopped.

Kathryn took a breath, clenching her trembling hands. “You must leave this place. You must come to de Brusac.”

Elizabeth actually smiled. “God bless you, lady, but no. I wish to retire into a nunnery. I crave such solitude. But I know of none that would take me without a dower.”

Kathryn sighed. “If you wish it, it shall be. I will provide both nunnery and dower.”

The talk chilled her, and yet she felt strangely happy. What if Richard had been another such as Sir Edmund? But he was not. He never hurt her, not physically anyway, and protected her and her interests. And she felt, strangely, she could depend upon him.

She was still thoughtful as Emma brushed her hair, and it was not until a firmer, harder hand rested upon her head, that she realized Richard had come up silently behind her.

“Sir Edmund has drunk himself under the table,” he said.

She felt his fingers stroking the soft, heavy strands. After a moment he lifted the heavy tresses off her nape. His lips pressed there, soft and light. “Richard...” her breath caught.

“He meant to break your pretty nose, my love. He says women are to be beaten into submission.
I don’t know but that he’s right.” He paused, as if
waiting for some reply. Waiting for her to say how lucky she was, not to have wed such a brute. But she said nothing.

“Perhaps I should have let him do so,” he added at last.

“The soldiers would have killed him.”

He laughed sharply. “Yes. You seem to inspire loyalty, Kathryn. The Lord knows why!”

“So he will do homage?”

“I think I have persuaded him to it. I told him it was necessary, sometimes, to swallow one’s natural abhorrences in favor of keeping one’s head adjoined to the body.”

“How clever of you.”

He laughed again. “Clever? Is that what you think me?”

She didn’t reply but began to straighten her combs and brushes. After a moment he said, “You hate me, I know. You’re as cold as ice, my love. Every single thought in your head concerns only yourself and how you may further your deception.”

She turned then, white-faced. “It was never any deception. Never mine!”

He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “When you look like that, I could almost believe to myself that you are the Lady de Brusac. Sleep well with your thoughts of greatness, Kathryn. And try not to hate me too much, hmm?” He turned on his heel and was gone.

She stared after him, feeling cold fingers of dismay press into her skin. Hate him? How could he say that? When every moment she despaired she might betray her love?

They left Sir Edmund and his wife the following morning. Elizabeth had promises to be received into a nunnery whenever she so wished, and Sir Edmund had promises of a divorce. Both seemed brighter for the knowledge.

They travelled south through less wooded, undulating country. Richard did not speak to her, and when he happened to glance at her his eyes were cold. It was only when they stopped at the hostelry that she saw him smile, and that was to a bold-eyed wench who brought them their ale and bread. He even slipped his arm about her plump waist when she answered him saucily, and let her twine her fingers in his hair.

Kathryn stared ahead out of the door, trying to pretend she didn’t see, while Emma choked and bowed her face low over her tankard.