Stuart, Elizabeth (13 page)

Robert
frowned. In his anger he'd obviously been too hard on the boy.

Edward,
forgive me,
he
thought.
I'll try not to fail your son as I did mine.

"Aymer
Briavel lies near death because he is a knight who followed his lord into
battle," Robert said. "Get used to it, boy, because you'll see much
of it if you live long enough. And if any one is to blame, it's me, not you.

"I
was so caught up in the fighting I remained on the field long after our purpose
was done. That's a decision I'll live with the rest of my life. It's a decision
every commander must make. Make and then live with. I've made my
mistakes—plenty of them—and both friends and enemies have died for them. I've
long since learned not to fret over what's past.

"As
to your future, boy, only God knows for sure, but I'll need good men aplenty
and the boys who'll grow into them. I happen to think I'll need you. I've
already spoken to my man Raoul le Bent. He's agreed to spend the afternoon
taking you through your paces with a sword. Edward Carrick was as good a man
with a blade as they come. I'll look to see something of the same in his son.
Now if you believe yourself ready for that, if you're up to the work of it—and
work it will be—then get cleaned up and dressed."

The
boy looked as if he'd just been handed the keys to Heaven by Saint Peter
himself. He grabbed up the cloth and began to scrub himself so vigorously
Robert doubted that in another few minutes there would be any skin left to
clean.

Children
were so simple to please, so terrifyingly easy to fail.

He
glanced toward Jocelyn Montagne. She was staring at him, a smile lighting her
face, a look of overwhelming approbation softening the brilliant fire in her
eyes.

He
thought of his meeting just now with her father, of the man's obvious belief
that some ridiculous sense of chivalry would keep him from harming a woman.

With
a heavy scowl, Robert turned and walked away, a gut-searing surge of memory
sweeping over him. He had killed a woman in another life, another time. And he
had no regrets—not about that one, anyway.

But
Montagne couldn't know that; he only knew the legend. And God help him if that
fool Montagne called his bluff.

Jocelyn
leaned
against the dusty shelves of the herb room, peering into the small earthenware
pot of feverfew. Only a small fuzz of dried plant shadowed the bottom. Soon that,
too, would be gone. In just two days' time, she had used months' worth of
Belavoir's medicinals, but all of the injured men were mending without further
ills, and Aymer Briavel was definitely better.

She
rummaged about amongst the jars, searching for an additional bit of yarrow she
remembered seeing. Robert de Langley had met with her father yesterday. He had
told her little of the meeting, only that negotiations were proceeding. He had
been curt afterwards, absenting himself from the keep for most of the day.

In
his absence, she had coaxed Adelise to stop cowering in their chamber and come
downstairs. Sitting alone and unoccupied with only the fearful, imaginative
Hawise for company hadn't been good for her sister's frame of mind.

And
it was as Jocelyn knew it would be. Adelise's soft heart had been touched by
the injured men. Despite the fact that she considered them her enemies, she had
done what she could to ease their pain and lift their spirits.

Jocelyn's
mouth curled wryly. If only she could distill the essence of her sister's
smiles, she would have little need for the more common remedies. Adelise's soft
touch and beautiful smile did more for an ailing man than any quantity of
yarrow or feverfew.

Footsteps
sounded at the door and Jocelyn glanced up. One of Robert de Langley's knights stood
talking to the man-at-arms guarding her.

"Something
has happened?" she asked.

The
knight
bowed and stepped into the room. "My lord bade me fetch you, lady. He
would speak with you above stairs."

"Very
well." Jocelyn followed the knight toward the stairs. She would have good
news to give Robert de Langley. Briavel's fever was waning. He had even
regained consciousness this morning for a bit. The man was young and healthy
and fighting to live. It was possible he would do just that.

She
smiled at the thought, her steps quickening to keep up with the long-legged
knight. She had been able to do this one thing to atone for her father's
treachery. De Langley wouldn't have to bury another who was dear to him, at
least not any time soon.

They
passed the entrance to the hall and continued up the back stair, then turned
into a separate wing of the castle. They were out of the women's quarters now,
heading toward that part of Belavoir where her father and brother had always
lived, where guests slept when they visited.

The
knight stopped before the door of the lord's solar and Jocelyn's heartbeat
quickened. Robert de Langley would keep bachelor quarters. She had no business
being here. She drew in a deep breath and stepped through the doorway. She had
no choice, after all.

"Well,
girl, and where is your sister?"

Jocelyn
froze, trying to hide her surprise.

Her
father was frowning, glaring anxiously at her and then toward the man at her
side. "The other, you knave, where is the other? Lady Adelise?"

The
man beside Jocelyn stiffened. "I've no notion, my lord. I was sent to
fetch the lady Jocelyn." With that he bowed and stepped back, closing the
door sharply behind him.

Jocelyn
glanced around the room. Sir Geoffrey Talmont stood unobtrusively to one side,
three armed and helmeted knights flanking him. Robert de Langley was no where
in sight. Nor was Adelise.

Her
father was armed and wearing his hauberk. There was an anxious look on his
hard, still-handsome face. He moved hastily toward her. "Where is Adelise?
Tell me, girl, is she well or ill?"

Jocelyn
met his eyes. "When last I saw my sister, sir, she was working at her
loom. And yes, she was well. We have taken no hurt in this place."

Her
father drew in a quick, relieved breath. His face looked lined, old, more
anxious than Jocelyn had ever seen it. She felt an unexpected urge to reach out
and touch him, but he had stopped several feet away.

"Well,
that's good news at least. I was afraid—"

He
broke off, staring hard at the rush floor. The muscles of his throat worked
once as he swallowed, struggling for control.

Jocelyn
averted her gaze but kept her head high. Without warning, her throat muscles
knotted, ached. Her father cared little for her—that much she had always
known—but it was something else again to have it thrown in her face so
blatantly, and in the presence of strangers.

No
one spoke. Montagne paced forward and back and then stopped, staring at
Jocelyn. "By the Mass, daughter, where have you been? You've dust soiling
your robe and cobwebs in that tangle of hair. Surely you could have made
yourself more presentable."

Jocelyn
ignored the impulse to brush at her hair. She had never been able to please
him. "I've come straight from the herb room, father. There was much to do
with wounded men in the hall. I didn't know you were here, nor was I given a
chance to repair my appearance. I doubt it would have made much difference in
any case."

Montagne's
eyes narrowed. "You left your sister alone to see to our enemies? Devil
take you for a fool, girl! What if Adelise came to harm in your absence? By
God's wounds, I do begin to wonder at this delay!"

Jocelyn
didn't answer. Her father was fast working himself into one of his tempers. She
wondered if that was what Belavoir's lord intended.

Montagne
whirled toward Geoffrey Talmont. "I suggest you produce my daughter as
promised, sir. If this is some knavish trick to get me here alone, by God,
you'll find no advantage to it! My son commands our forces now, and
reinforcements have been sent for. I swear by the soul of my dead wife that
Brian will pull down this castle stone by stone if he has to. That every man
here will rue the day he was born!"

"Is
that the soul of your first wife or your second?" a voice inquired from
the doorway. "Do let's be specific about our oaths, though I suppose it
scarcely matters with a man well known for breaking them."

Jocelyn
swung toward the door. The lord of Belavoir stood there, casually dressed as if
for hunting, in open jerkin and shirt, chausses, and soft doeskin boots. His
sword and dagger were belted at the waist, but he wore no mail. And he was
smiling, that glittering, dangerous smile she had feared so in the beginning.

Montagne
struggled to hold his temper in check. "Where's my daughter?"

"Here.
Both of them." De Langley stepped aside, drawing Adelise from behind him,
half-supporting, half-dragging the girl into the room.

Adelise
was ashen-faced and trembling, her terror so apparent Jocelyn had to resist the
urge to rush to her side.

Adelise
looked up, gave one soft, despairing cry, "Papa..." Tears welled in
her eyes. "Oh, Papa, you did come!"

De
Langley released her and Adelise stumbled forward, sobbing, as Montagne covered
the space in two long strides, catching his daughter up in his arms.

Jocelyn
watched the reunion, watched Robert de Langley watching as well. She felt like
a pawn in a chess game, won, but scarcely noticed. Adelise was the valuable
piece that would decide the game. She knew it, and everyone else in the room
knew it as well.

"Enough
of this affecting sight," de Langley said dryly. "Montagne, you can
see for yourself that your daughters are well. How long that happy state
continues is entirely up to you."

Montagne
glanced up, his arm still supporting Adelise. "I'm willing to negotiate
terms. I want my daughters released."

"There
will be no negotiation. My terms are these: complete withdrawal of your forces
from my lands and your signed pledge not to make war on myself or my vassals.
To be sure you hold by your word, a half-dozen of your vassals—men of my
choosing—and the eldest sons of the ones remaining are to be given over to me.
They will remain for a time as my guests—hostages if you will —to stand surety
for your pledge."

"You
can rot in hell, sir!"

De
Langley shrugged. "Perhaps. But I'll do a great deal of damage to you and
yours before I oblige you in that, Montagne."

Montagne
struggled for control, drew a breath and released it. "I'd oblige you if I
could, de Langley, but I can't do what you ask. These are difficult days, as
you well know. It's hard for a man to keep his vassals in hand. Why, my men
would revolt if I asked such a thing."

"What
a pitiful lord you must be." Robert de Langley moved into the center of
the room. "You've heard my terms and there'll be no negotiation. Either
agree or get ready to do what you think necessary. I assure you, I shall do the
same."

There
was a long moment of silence. "All right, de Langley, I'll get off your lands.
I'll even give you my pledge not to return to fight you for them. But I'll give
you no hostages, and that's final. Take it or leave it."

"I'll
leave it then," de Langley returned. "I don't intend to get you off
my lands only to have you take half back within the week. You know full well it
will take time to garrison my castles, to set up loyal castellans and establish
my vassals. I need to be sure you won't come back."

"I
can't do what you ask. I've told you that."

De
Langley paused. "If you fear your own vassals, then give me your son.
Brian Montagne will do very well in lieu of the other hostages."

"Never!"

Robert
de Langley's face hardened. "It's obvious then, isn't it? You plan to go
back on your pledge." He jerked his head toward the door. "Get out,
Montagne. I'm done wasting my time."

"Wait.
I won't give you Brian as a hostage, but that doesn't mean I intend going back
on my word. I'll honor any pledge I make. To show my good faith, you may keep
one of my daughters as a hostage." Montagne forced a tight smile.
"That should satisfy you, de Langley. I keep one, you keep one. You can be
sure I'll keep my pledge."

"Papa...
Papa no!" Adelise cried out. "Papa—"

"Hush!"

De
Langley appeared to be considering the proposal. Jocelyn held her breath,
clenched her fists so tightly she could feel the nails digging into her palms.

De
Langley nodded. "Very well. But the choice of the women is mine."

"No!
I
mean..."

"I
make the choice." De Langley smiled thinly. "Men get bored during a
siege. A lovely woman can provide some entertainment. That is, if there should
be a siege."

Adelise
gasped and turned her face against her father's shoulder.

"You
wouldn't dare," Montagne snapped. "Stephen will have your head if you
harm any woman of gentle birth. No man of honor would countenance that."

Robert
de Langley appeared unperturbed. "So long as I bring him my sword and a
goodly number of fighting men, I doubt I need fear our lord king. We all know
Stephen overlooks these lapses of honor amongst his barons, just look at Chester
and yourself. And I suspect your neighbors would much prefer fighting with me
than against me, Montagne." He smiled again. "Ask them and see."

"If
you think none will learn of this, that none will condemn your behavior, you're
wrong," Montagne blustered. "I'll make sure—"

"Oh,
I intend for people to learn of it, I intend the whole land should learn of
it," de Langley returned. "I intend that every move I make shall be
most excruciatingly public. We'll see just how proud the Montagne name remains
after one of your daughters is the castle whore for a few months." He
hesitated, lifted one eyebrow sardonically. "Now, shall I tell you which
one I want?"

With
a low growl of rage, Montagne reached for his sword. De Langley jumped back,
kicking a nearby table onto its side between them. In a flash, his men had
their swords out and were forcing Montagne against the wall.

Adelise
bit back a cry, covering her mouth with both hands. Jocelyn rushed to her and
put her arms about her sister.

"You
forget yourself, sir," de Langley said coldly. "I suggest you not do
so again. Now get out before I forget the provocation you had for that
action."

Montagne
was still holding his sword at the ready. He measured the blades between
himself and de Langley, then rammed his weapon back into its sheath.

"You
have until tomorrow at sundown to bring me an answer," de Langley said.
"After that, I'll know how to proceed. I've been contemplating my revenge
for years. I can take it on you or your daughters. You choose, Montagne."
He hesitated. "Now get out. And don't forget. It's your choice."

Montagne
glanced at Adelise, but it was to Jocelyn he spoke. "See to your
sister," he said gruffly.

Jocelyn's
arms tightened about Adelise. "I will."

"Papa...
do whatever you have to," Adelise managed to get out. "My love to
Brian... a-and you. Remember that, Papa. Remember it!"

Montagne
nodded and turned stiffly toward Robert de Langley. "You'll have your
answer, de Langley. And I pray God that you rot in hell!" Then he headed
for the door, wrenching it open and stalking off without a backward glance.