The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series) (16 page)

"It is decided then."
Joan's hands on her hips, she nodded her head with finality.

The woman was insistent.
Every day for more than a month, she came to call on Rowena. Each time, Joan intercepted and told the woman she was not welcome. It was becoming tiresome. The vile woman believed she could visit the home of his lordship whenever she chose and be welcomed. Usually, Rowena accepted many visitors at the evening meal but Joan was ever diligent and would not allow the woman entrance.

Still there was no word from John.

Turning her attention from her absent husband to the child they had created gave her a much better outlook. As the winter skies grew gray and the rain came down in droves, Rowena often found herself before the warm fire just holding her needlepoint, staring into the flames imagining her future.

A husband to love.
A child to care for.

The morning sickness had subsided but her hair was still ratty and thin.
She knew she wasn't exactly blossoming but she was happy. She did not glow radiantly like her friend Katey had, but she still had several months yet to go, and things would be better when John returned.

The memory of his hands sliding over her belly and cupping her breast slipped through her mind. Would he still desire her? Or would he set her aside? She did not like to think there would be no more intimacy between them. He had said he would not go to another. But l
ike so many other things about John, Rowena didn't know how he would react to the news or to the woman who hounded her incessantly.

"Soldiers are crossing the bridge!" Joan had all but run to her with the news. "I do not see your husband yet. I will go keep watch."

Rowena stood and smoothed her skirts, pushed at her hair, and finally started to pace when no one came to join her in the Great Hall. How would John take the news of their impending parenthood? Did he long to be a father as Rowena had to be a mother? Perhaps not but he would surely adjust to the idea and be glad. He would be a doting father, giving their little girl rides on his shoulders and taking her for long walks in the woods. Rowena would teach her about herbs and how to heal ailments like her own mother had taught her. After what seemed an eternity, Joan came slowly back into the room. She was alone.

"I am sorry, my lady. They had come to advi
se the rest of the men. There has been some trouble not far from here, and your husband wanted to see that you were well protected."

"They said that? That John wanted me protected?" Her sadness at John not coming was quickly replaced by the reality of his concern for her. He did care.

"Well, not in so many words."

Turning away to hide the tears that came so easily now, Rowena struggled with her emotions. She wanted to feel glad that she knew John was well and that he was nearby.
The bubbling in her belly brought a smile to her face. She placed her hand where she'd felt the movement, but it had stopped. Still she knew that the truth was she would never be alone again.

Rowena
turned back to her friend, a genuine smile across her face. "Would you send word to my husband that all is well here?"

Joan tipped her head,
a quirk of an eyebrow like a salute to her lady's resilience, and said, "I will be sure to do that, my lady."

Joan quickly ran out leaving Rowena standing alone before the fire, fighting the somberness that threatened to engulf her. She knew the moment the unwanted woman had entered the room behind her.

Without turning, Rowena let Abigail hear her disgust in her voice. "So you've made it in despite our wanting to keep you out."

"I am nothing if not clever. And trust me, I am much more."

Slowly turning to face the woman, Rowena had forgotten just how beautiful she was. Her thick, dark hair swept down her sides, blanketing the cape she wore draped about her shoulders. Her bright eyes showed intelligence, missing nothing as they assessed Rowena. As if peering into her soul, Rowena was acutely uncomfortable with the woman's sudden frown. It was as if she had figured out her secret. But that couldn't be. Rowena barely showed at all.

"Abigail, is it?" Rowena did not try to hide her disdain.

Resignation was now etched on the woman's face as if she had come across an unhappy truth. Rowena waited patiently for her reply.

"I am Abigail of Moulineaux Castle in Normandy."

Her arrogance at laying claim to John's estate was galling. "Are you now?"

Abigail raised her nose
. Suddenly tired again, Rowena sat next to the fire before her legs gave way beneath her. Debating whether she should order the woman to leave or finally give her a chance to say what it was she had to say, Rowena preferred the former.

"
If I ask you to leave?"

"You will have to make me leave."

"It can be done."

Smiling indulgently, the woman answered her, "I believe y
ou will not do that…not again."

"So speak your mind and be gone." Rowena tried to sound uninterested but the light in her nemesis' eyes spoke volumes about her failure.

"Yes, I would like to sit. Thank you." Sweeping her long black cape around the bench in front of Rowena, Abigail sat down as if she were royalty. How long ago was it that John had sat in that same spot causing havoc to Rowena's senses, causing her to desire him above everything else. It seemed so very long ago.

"Thinking of him, are you?"
Abigail said.

Shocked that she was so transparent to this woman, Rowena sat up straighter. "What is it that you want?"

"That is simple. I have come for John. I'm sure he has missed me and our son as much as we have him."

Cut to the quick, Rowena wished that it didn't feel like she'd been punched in the gut. She knew the rumor the woman was spreading, that she was indeed John's mistress and she had come to see that he had not taken ill. Abigail claimed that he had assured her he would return to her by fall. That she and John had a son was something Rowena had not heard before.

"My husband is not here. He is seeing to his property."

"So I've heard. Weren't able to keep him with you for very long were you? I'd venture to say he had no interest in you at all." Her perfectly red lips stretched into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Rowena reconsidered and decided the woman was actually very ugly. For her to think she could come and arrogantly make comments regarding John's feelings showed how ugly she was inside. Her heart was probably made of stone.

Unable to hide the pain
the words caused, Rowena was relieved to see Joan stomping toward them from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"
Joan said, her voice resonating authority. Rowena was very glad she was an ally.

"She was just leaving." Rowena held Abigail's gaze as she spoke. "She has said her peace
, and now she will go without any problem. Isn't that right, Abigail?" Despite her weariness, Rowena rose when Joan came to stand beside her, her friend's presence bolstering her sagging confidence. "Thank you for your visit but you need not return. You are not welcome here."

Taking Joan's arm for support, Rowena left the woman behind her as she headed back to her room.

"My lady, you look ill," Joan whispered as they ascended the stairs.

"Is she gone yet?"

Joan glanced behind and nodded. "Young Peter is showing her out now."

"Please help me to bed. I have a tightness in my gut that does not seem right."

Rowena stretched on the bed. When Joan started to cover her with the blankets, Rowena was startled by her gasp. "My lady…" looking down at her clothing, she, too could see the spreading crimson stain.

Joan placed a
wadded cloth tight against her, trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Fetch the midwife
," Rowena said.

"I will bring her to you right away."

Alone in the room, the shadows fell as the time ticked by and she waited to see if her baby would live or die. The shadows looked like ugly monsters that seemed to leer at Rowena, laughing at her weakness. The wind whipping against the glass sounded like crying children and her cramping seemed to increase with every cry.

She awoke once to find Claire, the midwife, clucking and checking, rambling on but it made no sense. There was so much blood and then she was forcing something bitter into her mouth. Rowena retreated back to her sleep. When next she awoke, John was beside her. His kind brown eyes were full of concern for her, his hand gently stroking her cheek, and his lips warm against her forehead.

"Sleep, my love." His words echoed in her head. That he would call her his love made her feel safe and wanted.
Yes, my love, I will sleep now.

The bright
daylight shone through the window that Joan had just opened, causing Rowena to squint her eyes in pain. "Where is John?"

Joan
clutched her hands to her chest, and she came to stand beside the bed. "What do you mean?"

"He was here. Where
has he gone?"

Joan put her hand to Rowena's forehead but she pulled
back in annoyance. "I am not fevered. Where is John? I haven't had a chance to tell him about the baby."

"My lady, he is not here."

"He left without speaking to me?" Rowena started to sit up and was shocked by the pain stabbing in her abdomen. "Get him." Tears filled her eyes as she slipped back on to the pillow.

"I cannot, my lady. He is not here. He hasn't been here."

Searching her face, Rowena could see that Joan believed she was speaking the truth. The memory of his lips on her forehead made her instinctively reach to touch the spot. "He was here with me." Her voice was quiet.

Joan shook her head, barely able to suppress the concern that revelation was having on her. "You are wrong. Your husband has not been here. You need to rest."

"The baby?"

"Claire said you may still lose the child unless you stay in bed." Tucking her blankets tightly around her as if to physically keep her from moving, Joan smiled and patted Rowena's hand before she left the room.

Rowena's initial relief at finding her baby had not been lost was quickly replaced by worry over John. She looked around, searching for any sign of what she knew had happened. John had come to her and told her to rest. She could still see the way he had looked, hair all tousled, his tunic caked with the mud of his travels. What did that mean? If it wasn't John…what was it then? His ghost? Is that why he has not returned? He is dead? Slowly shaking her head in disbelief, the tears quickly grew into a torrent and Rowena buried herself up to her chin in the blankets until she cried herself into a fitful sleep.

"Oh, my lady." Joan dropped the stack of blankets she carried onto the floor, catching Rowena's arm just as she started to stand beside the bed. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?"

Her hand pressed on her temple, her eyes closed in pain, Rowena wondered the same thing.

"I believe I am getting my strength back. I only wanted to look at the
snowfall."

Joan smiled slightly at her answer.

"Foolish, yes?"

Joan helped
her to settle back down without a word. Rowena slid her legs back beneath the blankets.

"It is just white. No more. Just white."

"Do not try to humor me." Rowena frowned at her maid once her dizziness subsided. "Snow is not something we see every day. Do not tell me you did not run through it this very morning!"

Joan looked away in embarrassment.

"I noticed your wet hem," Rowena explained.

"It was soft and cold!" Joan's excitement was quite apparent.

Years had gone by with not a speck of snow and now to have several inches accumulating! This was an event.

"But you should stay abed
," Joan said. Her concern was evident, and Rowena felt shame at her childish desire.

"You are right." She ran her hand across her swelling abdomen. "Some things are even more important, aren't they?"

Speaking more to her unborn child, Rowena looked sheepishly up at Joan.

"I was just getting bored."

"My lady, I am sorry I took so long to return." Collecting the items she dropped, Joan continued, "There was news of the men."

Instantly alert, her child responded with a slight kick,
bring a smile to her lips.

"Is there more movement?" Joan had her hand out to feel what could not yet be seen. The babe kicked in answer. "Strong! That is very good."

Rowena rubbed gently, soothingly. "Well? News?"

She asked more out of habit than in expectation of receiving any information. It had been so many months now without a word from her husband. In all honesty, she was convinced he had returned to Normandy and left his men to see to the troubles in the area. The only thing that didn't make sense was the continued presence of Abigail in the village. She had taken up permanent residency at the Owl and Thistle, relentlessly plaguing Rowena with her presence.

"There seems to be a settling down among the villages in the area."

"But settling of what? You never did learn what the problem was." Her irritation was hard to hide. All this time, something was going on but no one found it necessary to tell her. If Arthur had been here, he would have been sure to come and tell her. He always kept her abreast of local developments. "Is it even something we should be concerned about?" She shook her head to her own question.

"Patience, please." Joan patted the hand that rested on top of the blanket. "News will come soon."

Remembering the feel of his lips on her forehead, Rowena tried to feel contented that when she was at her worst, when the death of their unborn child had seemed imminent, John had returned and strengthened them both by his presence. Even returning the child to health, although Rowena was no longer able to get out of bed for very long, it was a small price to pay for the babe. "You are right."

"If the bleeding does not return, Claire assured me you could leave the bed safely."

"That would be a blessing to me. Sitting here is very tiring."

Joan placed one of the blankets in front of Rowena in answer. Its ragged hem prominently displayed.

"Mending?" Rowena whined childishly.

Joan settled herself on the stool close to the bed. She smiled as she started her own darning.

"It needs to be done as well you know."

Sitting up slightly, Rowena found the start of the tear and quickly had her wooden needle bringing the two sides into a neat row. The time passed and Rowena was surprised when Joan stood and stretched her back.

Glancing at the window, the bright light was no longer a subdued gray. Rowena's stomach growled in answer. She rubbed her stiff fingers.

"I am famished!"

"You were so involved
that you didn't even notice the time," Joan scolded her like a child. "In your condition, you need to eat more. I can fetch you a tray from the kitchen when we are finished here."

"You're right but go now. I will finish this last one by the time you return."

Joan took longer than Rowena had expected, so she piled the blankets on the stool. She leaned back to stretch then closed her eyes. She resorted to rubbing her swollen belly and thinking about her little girl. In her mind's eye she pictured her with John's dark hair and kind, brown eyes. Certainly she would have a precocious smile and win over everyone's heart. She would have a lilting voice and learn to sing with Cedric. Rowena sighed. She missed the entertainment from the hall. There had been no visitors since her confinement. Perhaps she should ask to have some visitors. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Mending was so tiring.

When she stretched toward the side table to put her needle down, Rowena noticed the brown leaf. Beside her candle, a brown twig was partially obscured. Retrieving it, she recognized it as a lady slipper well past its prime. Strange that it should be there. John's concerned face immediately came to mind. Tenderly she brought it to her cheek. John had been here and he'd brought her this flower.

She turned onto her side and placed the brown plant in the spot where John's head should be resting in his sleep. Her arm reached out to the cold spot where he should be lying and cried in earnest. Sleep came quickly.

§

The snowfall was a godsend. Not knowing how long it would last, the men doubled their efforts to find any sign of the murderers. They spread out through the dense forest that ran between the villages north of the last victims. This was the only way they could have retreated without being caught. John and his men had surrounded them on all sides but believing they were coming from the south, they had not adequately covered this area. John cursed himself again for not anticipating the latest massacre.

A hawk passed overhead casting its shadow across them as it flew. An omen. The bright sun would quickly melt the thin blanket of snow. They needed to cover as much ground as possible. There had to be some sign. Snorting, John closed his eyes and offered up a quick prayer for help.

The shrill whistle of an imaginary bird penetrated the dark forest. It was Peter's signal. The trees muffled the sound of the men as they quickly headed toward its source.

John stepped through the group of men to see what Peter pointed to. These tracks were half covered by the snow while others were clearly seen. They must have traveled through here just as the snow had started. They had four hours head start.

"How many men?" John asked.

"Looks like one, two…" Peter pointed as he spotted the now obvious signs, "…three…"

"Four!" Philip called from their left, pointing down as well. "Five, six."

Only six? That didn't seem right. There were at least two riders unaccounted for.

"Search more closely but do it quickly." John's irritation was rising. If the group had split up then they may realize they were being followed.

"These men are ruthless
," Peter stated the obvious and shook his head in disgust. "At what will they stop?"

"My lord!" Henry called to John. He was at the forest's edge where the sun was already blurring the outline of the destrier's hoof. "It looks as if other riders are headed back east."

John's heart lurched. The castle was to the east. Rowena was to the east. Why would they go there? Looking to Peter, he saw that he was concerned as well.

"What harm
could come to the castle? They are well protected there," Peter said reassuringly.

"We have taken away their only protection for this search.
I left only a few loyal men behind."

"Loyalty is certainly the issue."

"We don't know who can be trusted at the castle."

Peter shook his head slowly, his mouth a thin line.

"We can't leave the castle undefended if an attack seems imminent." How many of the Saxons would follow him if there was an attack?

"This
may be our only chance of catching these murderers," Peter gestured to the miraculous tracks they'd been able to find because of the snow.

"We need every man we have here
."

"You need to go
," Peter said.

"I need to be
leading the men."

"John, you need to go back.
Take Philip so that you will not walk into a trap or be caught unprepared. You two are the only ones who have a chance of getting back to the castle before these men." Peter gestured to the tracks headed due east. "If these men are as devious as we believe, they may be friends of the castle men who would let them in without a second thought. Who knows what would happen once they are inside?"

John's mind went unbidden to Rowena. Something could happen to her. If these men were after money
, and they knew they were being hunted, they may very well abduct her for the costly ransom she would bring. Abducted women were not well treated. The idea of any man laying hands on his wife turned his blood cold.

"You're right. See to the men, Peter."

Without a backward glance, John and Philip urged their horses back to the castle. If they found nothing amiss, they could prepare the castle's defense.