A Knight's Vow (30 page)

“Sericus! Gather everyone about in a circle, archers to the
front!” she ordered, shielding the costar’s family with Jezebel’s
broad flanks. Who was this, breaking through the stands of
elders and hazel at so furious a rate? Please, God, not Etienne the Fleming, returning again to wreak more havoc.

She saw Guillelm’s fluttering standard and breathed out in
relief. A shout of joy broke from her lips as Caliph burst into
view through the trees and Guillelm hurtled toward her, ahead
of all his men. He was bareheaded and she could see his face.

He was not smiling.

They returned to Hardspen in silence, where Guillelm
issued swift orders that the wolf be hunted down by what he
called a “proper” party of men and dogs. Lunch was yesterday’s bread and soft new cheese: a snack since the cook had
not known at what hour any of them would be dining.

“My lady will be spending the afternoon in the solar, at her
needlework,” Guillelm announced to the astonished company
in the great hall-none more surprised than Alyson herself.

Leaving her bread, she leaned across her seat to murmur,
“You know there is no solar here at Hardspen .”

Guillelm shook his head. “I had your previous bedchamber cleared out while we were eating, and tables and chairs
taken in. That will be your solar. It is large enough for you
and your maids.”

“But I thought-” Alyson stopped, disappointed that she
and Guillelm would not be spending time together on the
roof-garden. “I have stills and potions to work on,” she remarked, shocked when Guillelm took her hand in his and said
softly but firmly, “No.”

“What are you saying?” Alyson felt a chill of alarm. Farther
along the table, Fulk was openly grinning.

“I have decided, wife, that in future you shall be best employed inside this castle. Hardspen is a bare place-” Ignoring the sword and shield of his famous ancestor on one wall,
Guillelm swept an arm up to the high rafters as if to illustrate
his point. “Other ladies do embroidery and tapestry to add
warmth and color to the rooms of their menfolk. I have decided that it will be more fitting if you follow their example.”

Do not argue with him before Fulk and his men, Alyson
scolded herself. “As you wish, my lord,” she agreed, while her
stomach coiled itself into knots of rage. “For this afternoon.”

“All afternoons”

How had he arrived at this folly? Of course she knew-she
could hear Fulk’s insinuations in Guillelm’s every boorish idea.
Alyson put a hand to her mouth, as if stifling a yawn. “I had no
notion you were so ordinary in your expectations, my lord.”

Next moment, Alyson felt a heavy hand upon her back. She
moaned, the pain of her injured shoulder jolting through her
nerves, and would have tumbled from her seat, had Guillelm
not been there, tugging her none too gently off her own chair
onto his lap.

Ever the jester, Thierry called out some ribald comment in
French but Alyson had ears only for Guillelm’s searing whisper.

“I barely touched you then, Alyson, and see how you
flinched! Your shoulder is not even half-healed and yet you
shame me by cavorting around the countryside on a wolf
chase! When I found you this morning, were you about to dig
a wolf pit yourself, too?”

“That is not fair!” Alyson hissed back, stung by the truth
of his words and even more by the hurt shining in his eyes.
She wanted to give an account of herself, not to win but to
give him a reason for her actions so he would understand
she’d had no choice. “I never meant to shame you-“

She stopped, overcome for an instant by a burning sensation
in her throat, the prelude to tears. Digging her fingernails tightly
into her palm she regained some composure and continued. “I
knew you could not set out yourself because of the envoys and
yet with a child missing there was no time to be lost.”

“You did not think to send me a message? I would have
sent Fulk and a troop of men out immediately.”

And would Fulk have acted promptly, for the child of a
peasant? I think not. Alyson stared at her hands. “I did not
think I should disturb you,” she said, as much as she dared
admit. “I realize I acted impulsively.” She forced herself to
raise her head and look him in the face. “I am sorry. Truly, I
thought you would be pleased.”

She hoped to see forgiveness in her husband’s compelling
eyes, a gentling of his lips. To her inward dread, his harsh features remained locked in a frown. “Pleased that my injured
wife is putting herself in peril? There cannot be any more of
this, Alyson, even if a child is in mortal danger.” Guillelm’s
right hand tightened about her narrow waist. “Promise me
there will be no more, or I shall have no peace”

“My lord!” Fulk had no qualms in interrupting their conversation. He clearly felt himself in the ascendant; now he
pushed himself away from the table and the dais and walked
toward Alyson and Guillelm, glowering at a hunting dog that
had crept into the hall until it slunk off to the lower tables.
“My lord, be not harsh to your lady. She is young and unschooled in the ways of a large household.”

He smiled at Alyson-that is, he showed his teeth and
added, “Will you see Sericus now, my lord?”

Now you have said enough words to act as fat on the fire
of Guillelm’s anger, Alyson thought, but said quickly, “I
would send Sericus on an errand”

“You have done enough,” Guillelm said. “Now I will have
my say.”

Alyson met his steely glance, inwardly sending a prayer to
Christ that she had not made matters worse. “What business
have you with my seneschal?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Bring him inside,” Guillelm said to Fulk. He tipped
Alyson off his knee. “Call her women”

“Talk to me,” Alyson said, hating the pleading note in her
voice. “Guillelm, you cannot fault the loyalty of Sericus-“

“Not to you, perhaps, but where was his sense?” Guillelm’s
large hand captured both of hers and he dragged her close
again. “If I choose to punish that old man for his folly, then I
shall, and that will also be your chastisement. Get to your
solar, madam, or I will have your women carry you there”

Hot speech flooded Alyson’s mind but she was mute,
shocked. She had not seen Guillelm this coldly stubborn
before. Seated beside him, Sir Tom was shaking his head. On
the tables below the dais, men were suddenly busy with their
drinks or dice. I have no allies here, she thought. They all
think I was wrong. “Dragon, please-“

“No more” Guillelm released her and Alyson forced herself to walk away from him, her footsteps crackling on the
freshly strewn rushes and meadowsweet.

“Excellent, Guido,” remarked Tom, clapping a flea on the
back of his neck. “I have seen you deal with lepers with more
care”

“It is not Alyson whom I blame.” Guillelm could not drag
his eyes from the straight-backed, retreating figure. He
longed to rush after her and somehow make everything right
between them. He wished she would look back, just a glance
over her shoulder. Then he would not have to live with the
dread that she was as angry with him as he had been with
her-an anger on his part that he suspected was unwarranted,
in spite of Fulk’s snide comments.

But if she had been injured on the wolf hunt, or worse-his
mind shied from the final thought, his thoughts leaping back
as if from the jaws of the wolf itself. He could not stand to
think of Alyson hurt. She had been hurt so often at Hardspen.
What kind of man of husband-was he that he could not
protect her from her own fierce charity? He should have remembered about the wolf himself, sent out hunters days ago,
before the joust, and not trusted to that old fool Sericus, who
had told him the beast had vanished.

Alyson had also vanished. He watched the shadowy entrance for several more moments, hoping against hope that
she would return. Even to have her quarrel with him would
be a relief because it would be contact. She was gone now and
he felt bereft: stupid, arrogant, unreasonable and, more than
anything, alone.

“Where is Sericus?” he demanded. He and Fulk had not
yet entered the great hall. What was keeping them?

“That old man did the best he could.” Tom again, an unwelcome conscience. “You should not vent your spleen on him.
It is unfair, as your lady says and-“

“When I need your advice, Thomas, I shall ask for it.”
Guillelm glowered at the entrance but still the two seneschals
did not appear. Instead a page scampered over the rushes,
missing his footing once on a discarded meat bone. Before
sprawling full-length amongst the milling dogs, he righted
himself in time and gabbled his message.

“Lord! The holy Sister Ursula is outside the hall this very
moment, with Sir Fulk and Master Sericus. She begs leave to
speak with you”

As Guillelm cursed under his breath and rose, braced for
another chilly encounter with Alyson’s sister, Tom put down
his cup.

“Will you tell her anything?” he goaded, in a low, carrying
voice. “I for one wish that you would share with Alyson’s sister the real reason why Alyson was asked for no favors at
the joust. Did you not notice how that blond piece Petronilla
preened over the many trinkets she gave out? Women care
about such matters. If you told Sister Ursula the truth, she
would tell Alyson.”

“I think that unlikely; they are not close. Besides, the joust
is over.” A fiery jealousy was burning in the pit of Guillelm’s
belly. He wanted to slam Tom’s head into the trestle for even
raising the subject. “I admit I was wrong, Tom-I did so at
the time and I do so again.”

“Yet you say nothing to Alyson herself. Do you wish her to
feel entirely friendless, wondering why no knight approached
her?”

Feelings, thoughts, guesses-Guillelm felt to be in a trap
of his own devising, and the knowledge that he had created
this current bad blood between Alyson and himself made another burden. “She has me. She needs no other defender.”

“And do you think Alyson remains convinced she has you
now, this moment? Guido! How can you be so thickheaded?”

Very easily, Guillelm admitted bleakly. He knew he was
being stubborn. He knew he should have spoken to Alyson
earlier about her favors and the joust; he knew

“Enough!” Guillelm slammed back his chair, saying to the
page, “Lead on, boy.” The sooner he could be finished with
the nun and seek out his wife to forge some kind of peace
with her, the better.

Sister Ursula was waiting on the stairwell where, if Guillelm had known it, Alyson had waited a few months earlier,
on the night he had returned to Hardspen. Standing beside
her, Fulk wore the bright look of a fellow conspirator.

“Where is Sericus?” Guillelm asked him.

“I suggested that my sister’s seneschal leave, to give us some privacy,” Sister Ursula answered and, before Guillelm
could protest, “Sericus was ever … partial to my sister, and
this gentle knight tells me that you and Alyson are estranged.”

Guillelm stared at Fulk with raised brows. “You have been
busy.”

“I speak only the truth, my lord.”

“Leave us ”” Guillelm spoke as curtly as he had done to the
page.

“You doubt his loyalty,” Sister Ursula remarked when she
and Guillelm were alone.

IfI do, it is no concern of yours, Guillelm thought, though
he said nothing. Again, he was ashamed of Fulk, and of his
own misjudgment. He had been almost willfully blind, reluctant to admit to the man’s glaring faults because of his excellent fighting skills. Habit and old companionship could not
easily be set aside, but Fulk had made no effort to outgrow
his prejudices. Guillelm’s own small hope that his seneschal
would mellow in time toward Alyson was revealed as futile.

Putting that thorny matter aside for the moment, Guillelm
studied the svelte, black-robed figure before him. He chose
to be blunt.

“You are pleased to think that Alyson and I have fallen out”

Sister Ursula clasped her bony hands together, as if in prayer.

“Why?” Guillelm persisted.

The nun shook her head. “I am here, as a mark of penance,
to speak for my order,” she said through pursed lips.

Guillelm put his right hand behind his back and made a fist
of it. He could sense Sister Ursula’s distaste of him, revealed
in her rigid stance and in the way she would not look at him
directly. Yet she had been speaking to Fulk and the pair had
looked easy together.

Heloise too had laughed and joked with Fulk in Outremer
… Swiftly, before the old bitterness overwhelmed him, Guil lelm tried again. “First answer me this. Do you not wish
Alyson to be happy?”

“I wish her to be alive.” Now Sister Ursula raised her face
to his, her narrow features schooled into a mask of loathing.
“You men! All you think of is war and killing! The prioress
wants me to beg you that you allow us to stay on at Hardspen for a little longer, when I-“

“Gladly,” Guillelm intervened, but Sister Ursula would not
be denied.

“In a castle full of the same brutes who would have cut us
down in our convent without a qualm!” she retorted. “It is
madness! Evil.” She raised a quivering hand toward Guillelm,
her index finger thrust out like a dagger. “You are evil, my
lord de La Rochelle, for you have murdered others and will
do so again including my sister!”

“Stop!” Guillelm sprinted ahead of the nun as she turned to
go back to the chapel, using his own body to block the stairs. “Do
you think that habit gives you the right to say anything you
please? What do you mean? I would never, never harm Alyson!”

“You want a son, do you not? An heir? Men always do!”

She has gone mad, Guillelm thought, as Sister Ursula
leaned closer, her eyes wild as she prodded his chest with her
finger. A cascade of words broke from her mouth, and from
sheer shock he sat down on the stone steps, listening in appalled fascination to her rave.

“You took Alyson when you must have known that the womenfolk in our family are fated to die in childbirth, so do not
speak of never harming to me! You knew she wanted to be a
nun! You might say you know differently, but Alyson would say
the moon was made of gold because of you! I think she is either
bewitched or terrified. She does not know her own mind.”