Stuart, Elizabeth (32 page)

The
boy's face hardened unexpectedly. "Well enough, I suppose. And able to
talk of little save your successes, brother. What a shame he'll soon hear of
your loss of command in Wales."

Richard's
hand fell away from the roan. Philip had been lapping up de Veasy's poison as a
cat laps cream. "No man sees the future, but I feel safe in saying
there'll be no immediate change in command. Your information is faulty, though
I can guess the source."

"Well,
well... what a touching sight. One might think Cain and Abel reunited."

Richard
glanced up with a heavy frown. Hugh de Veasy and his host, Roger Bigod, Earl of
Norfolk, were bearing down upon them. "Philip, be a good lad and fetch my
squire here to me," de Veasy continued, waving a languid hand in Philip's
direction. "I can't imagine where the boy's got off to."

Philip
sent Richard a hostile look, then glanced at de Veasy. "Certainly, my
lord." He gestured to the groom to take his horse inside. "I'll be
quick."

De
Veasy paused a few paces from Richard. "It's my good fortune to meet with
you here instead of sending my boy on a search for you, Basset. My courier just
rode in from Tintern Abbey with messages from Gregory Vespain. Oddly enough,
the bishop sent a letter for you."

Richard
studied the face of his enemy suspiciously. De Veasy's black hair curled back
from his forehead, his dark eyes surveying Richard with poorly concealed
disdain. The baron held out the bound parchment, his lips curling above his
beard with more than a hint of mockery. "If you've trouble with the
reading, I'll be pleased to offer assistance."

The
thinly veiled slur on Richard's upbringing brought a bark of laughter from
Bigod. It was well known Richard had had none of the fine tutoring afforded to
noble households.

Trouble,
Edward wanted no trouble, Richard reminded himself, forcing a smile to his lips
as he took the letter. "I appreciate the offer, my lord, but I've no need
of your help... in this matter or any other." He turned pointedly away
from the man, giving his attention to his host. "Let me compliment you,
Norfolk, on the building here at Chepstow. Few men thought to see your father's
plan improved, but you've done it. The work is magnificent."

The
earl cleared his throat and glanced shamefacedly at de Veasy. "Why, thank
you, Basset. It's been long in the planning."

Richard
nodded. "If you'll excuse me now, gentlemen, I've pressing business to see
to." He sent de Veasy a cool smile. "My thanks, de Veasy, for
fetching my messages. I'll send for you if I've a reply."

With
that parting shot, Richard entered the hall, and quickly tore open the surprising
missive. His eyes skimmed eagerly down the tight lines of flowing script, his
mind racing ahead of the genial words he read.

So
the Bishop of Lanwort had heard of Gwenlyn's need of a priest and, by a strange
coincidence, he had just the right man. Richard smiled grimly. He just bet the
old fox had the right man, but the right man for whom? It was well known that
Gregory Vespain and Hugh de Veasy were hand in glove in their quest for power.
No, he would sooner take a man from Lucifer himself than from the Bishop of
Lanwort—but how to refuse without causing a fuss?

Suddenly,
Richard chuckled. By all the saints, he didn't need a priest—he already had
one! For all he knew, Father Dilwen was a Welsh rebel, but in this instance, at
least, the man was a godsend. He could refuse the bishop without giving
offense.

When
Richard broached the matter to Edward that night, he wasn't surprised to find
his sovereign in agreement. "Any man Gregory Vespain sent would be on the
lookout for news for de Veasy if nothing worse," Edward said thoughtfully.
"But are you certain you've not a Welsh spy in your midst with this
priest?"

"I'm
certain of nothing as yet, but the man's been a help in the village. He seems
devout and, for all he's Welsh, more learned than most priests of my
experience. He gives the appearance of caring for men from both sides of the
border with no thought for the bitterness he encounters. Besides," Richard
added cynically, "if I discover he's a spy for this Rhys, I can feed him
what information I choose... before I hang him."

Edward
nodded. "I leave it to your judgment. And when all's said and done, it may
be a shrewd move. If the man's no rebel, his appointment to such a post might
keep the locals content. I've seen it work before. In any event, do as you
think best without stirring up a hornet's nest around Vespain. The man has
powerful friends in Rome.

"And
speaking of friends..." Edward leaned forward, studying his well-shaped
fingers intently. "How many years is it you've served me now,
Richard?"

"Nigh
on ten, my lord."

"And
in all that time, you've asked for naught. I'd almost forgot the passing
years."

Richard
glanced up in surprise. "You've given me more than I can measure. I've had
no need to ask."

"What?
A war-horse here, a suit of armor there, gifted to you after important
campaigns won." Edward's shrewd eyes studied Richard assessingly. "In
my father and grandfather's day you'd have been an earl thrice over. Do you
never wish for such?"

"In
your father and grandfather's day, England was nigh given away," Richard
remarked evenly. "You'll not hear me complain of my lot, Edward. I value
the command you've given me and the chance to prove myself."

Edward
smiled. "I could leave it at that, but I fear Eleanor would give me no
peace. She feels we should do better by you and I'm inclined to agree. Perhaps
a suitable marriage arrangement can be made. I shall look about me for some
rich widow or heiress."

His
eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Ranulff de Borgh is casting about for a
husband for his only child—though that may be flying a bit high. Still and all,
his interest is in finding a fair man with a strong hand to rule his lands
after him. It might answer at that."

Richard's
mouth tightened in consternation. Damn Eleanor's meddling! "This is the
queen's scheming, and I told her the idea was ridiculous," Richard said
lightly. "She promised not to broach the subject, but I should have known
she's not so easily driven from the scent."

"Oh,
she kept her promise. Eleanor'll not be foresworn. She led me, quite skillfully
mind you, to think this whole thing my own idea. Now I see I was naught but a
pawn." The king laughed. "Take my advice, Richard. Marry some sweet
guileless child you'll not spend your days trying to outguess."

Some
guileless child. The idea was overwhelmingly distasteful. "Take no further
thought to the matter, Your Majesty. I've no mind to marry. The queen should
never have bothered you with her matchmaking schemes."

"Well,
I make no promises, Richard, but I shall look about with you in mind. After
all, I can't keep you exiled in Wales and expect you to find a suitable match
on your own, now can I?"

Richard
started to protest, but Edward rose to his feet, signifying the audience was
ended. "I shall be busy on the morrow and won't see you again before your
departure. Take care, my loyal Richard, and bring me the hide of a certain
Welsh Fox!"

"Sir
Richard! It's Sir Richard's party coming up the coast road!" The excited
soldier waved his arms and hurried across the hall. "The men can make out
his red boar banner plain from the tower."

Giles
rose from his seat. "Excellent! Have men see to the horses." He
turned to the servant who had appeared at his elbow. "Get two barrels of
ale up from the storerooms and fetch me wine from the buttery for Sir
Richard."

Elen
set down the harp she had been absently strumming, and her heart suddenly
leaped to a fast staccato beat. He
was back.

She
took a deep breath to steady herself against the nervous tensing of her
stomach, against the ridiculous urge to rise and flee the room. She had spent
the past few weeks steeling herself against this moment, telling herself she
knew her mind, knew her duty. Yet three little words easily destroyed what
peace she had found. He was back.

While
Richard was away, it was easy enough to remind herself of the many reasons she
had for hating him. But the very knowledge that he would soon be with her again
sent all her hard-won determination crumbling. The memory of their last meeting
rose up to haunt her along with the lingering tenderness of his kiss. No, she
didn't want to see Richard. In very fact, she was afraid to see him.

She
rose stiffly to her feet and turned to Giles, keeping her voice deliberately
cold. It was easiest to be strong when she pretended to be angry. "I'd
better return to my chamber. Your master will be ill pleased to find me loosed
from my cage."

Giles
gazed at her thoughtfully, the suspicion of a smile lurking in his dark eyes.
"You've no need to go. Richard doesn't grudge you your freedom about Gwenlyn."

"I
bow to your superior knowledge of the Wolf, but I prefer to go upstairs. I've
no wish to remain below now."

"Very
well." Giles called to her guard and the man moved to the doorway.
"Richard will want to see you, you know."

Elen
continued her dignified retreat toward the door. "I've no desire to see
him. You may tell him that for me."

"Coward."

She
turned indignantly but Giles was already halfway across the hall.

A
short time later Elen found herself facing the master of Gwenlyn across the
floor of her chamber. She had forgotten how well he held himself, how the smile
spread from his lips to warm the emerald depths of his eyes. He was taller than
she remembered, his hair more golden, his face more bronzed from his hours in
the summer sun. Her memory didn't do him justice, she realized with a pang.

"Giles
tells me he's done his best to keep you entertained while I was away,"
Richard remarked easily.

Elen
shrugged and moved toward the empty fireplace, struggling to avoid the
irresistible draw of his gaze. "Yes. He's allowed me to visit my uncle's
cell. As I recall, you did promise to give him his freedom about Gwenlyn. But
that was weeks ago." She glanced up, deliberately baiting him. "I
suppose with so many Welshmen to kill, your memory deserted you."

Richard's
eyes slid over her, brightening with a glint of amusement. "I can see
you've kept yourself busy while I was away, fashioning me into a monster.
Actually, I found no Welshmen to slay in all my journeys these past weeks. I
fear I shall get out of practice."

She
sent him a look of exasperation and he moved to stand beside her. "Perhaps
you'll remember, we had some trouble here before I left, Elen. I freed no
prisoners. I didn't wish Giles to run more risks than necessary." He
leaned against the fireplace, continuing to study her. "I shall see to my
promises now I've returned.

"And
you may not be pleased," he continued, "but it looks as though I'll
be here longer than we believed. With the rebellion over, Edward wishes me to
see to the administration of Gwynedd. I'd like your help."

Elen
gave a bitter laugh and shook her head. So Edward believed the resistance was
finished... the more fool he! "Do you really think I'd betray my people,
Richard? You'll wait a long time for help from me."

He
shrugged. "Suit yourself. Giles is teaching me the speech of your people,
but he doesn't know all of your customs. It's my intention to combine
Llywelyn's civil law with the criminal codes of England. I hope to find the
right blending of both, but it will be difficult without Welsh help."

She
stared at him in amazement. "You would consider our ways?"

"If
you'll explain them to me," he answered quietly.

She
studied Richard's face, scarcely daring to believe her ears. The English had
always run roughshod over ancient Welsh custom and law. Merciful heaven, it was
the very reason for Llywelyn's revolt last spring! "You have the king's
permission for this?" she asked dubiously.

Richard
nodded. "Since you read and write we'd not have to summon the priest for
every item we put down. And you could explain the system once it's put into
practice." He searched her face. "Will you help me, Elen?"

She
lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see her excitement. If he were serious,
such a chance to temper English law with familiar Welsh ways would be of great
benefit—at least until her people drove Edward's army from Wales. "I'll
help," she said, after a moment. And then, so he'd not think her
softening, "It will be interesting to see what an Englishman's version of
justice will be."

Richard
allowed the insult to pass. He moved to the window and glanced out. "Come,
Elen. There's something I wish you to see."

She
studied him suspiciously, but did as he bade. In the courtyard below, Simon
held a lively black mare at the end of a short lead. The animal was sleek and
delicately built, showing signs of judicious mixing of Eastern bloodlines with
sturdy English stock—easily one of the finest she'd seen in years.

"Do
you like her?"

She
glanced up. Richard was so close she could see the gold flecks in his green
eyes, the tiny lines of weariness etched about his mouth. "She's
lovely," Elen said truthfully. "You've knowledge of horses at
least."