Alinor (35 page)

"And you think I will betray them?" Ian's voice rose again.

"Of course not," Alinor assured him seriously. Then she smiled. "You will confuse them. In your desire to save me from myself, you will either forbid them to do such things another time, or you will bid them come to you for confirmation of such orders from me, or you will try to explain to them the danger to me in their obedience in performing such acts. In another place or with a different woman, it might do well enough. But I am the Lady of Roselynde, and these people have obeyed my lightest breath for nigh on twenty years— no matter who was my husband."

"Now you listen to me, Alinor!"

She rose and went to him, grasping his upper arms gently. "No, Ian, you listen to me. I do not do this to dim your pride or to make my power blind your eyes. I trust you. I know you would never do me any hurt for any reason. But think. It is not a natural thing for men, even such men as these, to obey a woman. I dare not break their habit of obedience. Some day Joanna will be the Lady of Roselynde. If she marries Geoffrey and he lives, all will be well and you may say my care was wasted. But if she marry another, or Geoffrey should die and some king should press upon her some brute— There may not be a kind Ian to protect Joanna as you have protected me. Even if her vassals are loyal, what could they do? The day that a small band of vassals could raise rebellion is over. It is the small people of Roselynde who will be her bulwark—the huntsmen with their long bows; the thieves from the stews of the town, with their long knives; the fishermen with their boats that overturn and their nets that tangle. They must know only that the lady's word is the law."

That appeal silenced him. He was not so sure that the day a band of vassals could raise rebellion was over, but he was not going to put that idea into Alinor's head. In any case, it was horrible enough to think of Alinor in the power of a Fulk or a Henry, but Ian knew Alinor for a strong and resolute woman. The idea of Joanna, whom he had cradled in his arms and who still appeared to him as fragile and helpless as a new spring flower, faced with such a threat was inconceivably worse. His arms came up and drew Alinor close against him. She laid her head against his breast. After a moment, however, she lifted it. It was most unwise to allow Ian to think over their conversation at any length, or he would begin to find new doubts. A healthy distraction was in order.

"Ian, did you have speech with Sir Peter of Clyro Hill? He was avoiding me these past few days, I think, although I cannot be sure because—" she bit Ian gently, "—because I was taken up with other things. And today, after the swearing, I wished most earnestly to speak with him, but Lady Ela nearly drove me out of my mind. How Salisbury has not murdered her, I will never understand. First she would not go because she was too weary, and after dinner was too late to begin a journey. Then she would go because the packing was all done, and it was too much to draw forth the garments she would need for the extra time. Then she would not because all the worry had made her breath short. Then―"

"Enough," Ian laughed. "She may have been a trial to you, but Salisbury sets a great value on her and is fond of her beside. He speaks well of her always, although he knows her failings."

"Now I can understand how he loves the king. He has a disordered brain. But what of Sir Peter?"

"He could not avoid me," Ian said slowly as he steered Alinor toward the bed, "but I learned no more than we both guessed at the swearing. Something has made Sir Peter very, very uneasy. Perhaps it is only that something is brewing in Wales, and if Pembroke goes to Ireland, a strong hand will be lifted from the cover of that bubbling pot. It may not be
all
spite that made the king deny Pembroke's desire to go to Ireland. Even though he is stripped of all authority, his presence makes men think twice about creating a disturbance."

"Sir Peter heard of that plan?"

"Not from me or Salisbury or Pembroke, but Oxford's tongue can run away with him once it is oiled by a little wine. Moreover, Llewelyn might well have told him for his own purposes."

"But Lord Llewelyn is very fond of you. And you cannot tell me
he
has a loose tongue."

"Not without purpose, no. Get into bed, Alinor. It is cold."

Alinor cocked her head at him. "Ian, I want to hear the end of this tale of Sir Peter and Lord Llewelyn and Wales, and if we get into bed, we will stop talking."

He laughed, pushed her into the bed, and got in beside her. "I am not trying to divert you. The tale— if it is a true thing, and not of my imagining—is quickly told. Llewelyn would think it no hurt to me if one of your castellans should try to shake loose your hold when Pembroke is no longer there. Whether Sir Peter is so much a fool as to think I would not come and settle with him—with or without Pembroke's assistance—I do not know, but doubtless what Llewelyn hopes is that Sir Peter will appeal to Lord Gwenwynwyn for support, offering to do him homage and be his man instead of yours. That would give Llewelyn an excuse to rush to my aid and incidentally to challenge Gwenwynwyn, which is what he really seeks."

"Lord Llewelyn does not think I would mind my castellan defying me?" Alinor asked in a rising voice.

"Now, now, do not fly into a rage. The whole idea is that you would get your land back and be rid of a castellan of very doubtful loyalty, Llewelyn would have done me a favor by aiding me in ousting that castellan, and―"

"And he and you and Gwenwynwyn will fight a war all over my property so that my people will be killed, their crops and flocks destroyed, and more of my rents will be in arrears just when the king plans to raise taxes and will probably lay a fine upon me for marrying you. I hope you thanked Llewelyn for his generous thought."

Ian looked somewhat taken aback by Alinor's mercenary analysis. "I said this was all my guessing. I do not know whether Llewelyn has anything at all to do with Sir Peter's odd behavior. In any case, the war would not be fought on Clyro Hill or, at least, no more of it than necessary to drive out Sir Peter which, if he is not loyal, would be needful anyway. Llewelyn has his eyes on Powys, not on your lands."

"Quite right," Alinor replied tartly, "and my eyes are on my property, not on Lord Llewelyn's ambitions. I would prefer he found his excuse for quarreling with Lord Gwenwynwyn elsewhere than on my land. It would be better, if Sir Peter is disloyal, to find a way that he should not return to Clyro Hill at all rather than to fight a war to oust him from it."

"Now wait, Alinor," Ian protested, "the man swore his oath and presented his token fairly enough. You cannot make any move against him, after accepting those and giving him the kiss of peace, without offending all your other men. And I say again, this may be all my imagining. We are building a mighty castle out of the wet sand of one odd expression and a seeming avoidance of our company. There may be perfectly innocent reasons for that, or I might have misread him."

"I do not think you did, for I read his face the same way. And I know full well I cannot move openly against him now." Suddenly, in the midst of her thought, she laughed and laid her lips on Ian's shoulder. "If I had not been thinking of other matters, I might have seen his disaffection—if it is disaffection and not some other trouble—sooner. Then I could have refused his oath— but my mind was elsewhere."

"Am I to blame for that?"

"Assuredly. If you were hateful to me, or nothing to me, would I not have applied myself to business to drive you from my thoughts? As it was, Sir Peter tried to speak to me—twice, I think—but I put him off and I cannot remember a word he said."

Whereupon, quite reasonably, instead of blaming his wife for her carelessness, Ian kissed her soundly, and Alinor's prediction came true. They stopped talking. Ian thought no more of the subject of Sir Peter that night. His application to his new business of being a husband was too intense to leave room for worrying about another man's affairs. However, the ominous note in Alinor's flat statement that she "could not move openly now" remained buried under Ian's pleasure and came to the surface again the next morning.

Alinor had left the bed quietly soon after a predawn bout of lovemaking. Ian, expecting that she had gone to relieve herself and would soon return, slid off into sleep again. He slept heavily for a little while, but as the effect of his immediate exertions passed, he drifted upward toward consciousness. It did not take much rest to restore him. He was a strong man, accustomed to hard physical labor, and if anything, he had been too much rested in the past few weeks. Alinor's voice, low but not unclear, brought Ian to full wakefulness. His first reaction was an intense anxiety that almost brought him up and out of bed at once. A second woman's voice dispelled that impulse. Ian lay quiet, because he was still a little sleep-dazed and was trying to decide what made him feel so worried. The thought came to him that Alinor would not order her maidservant to kill anyone.

That idea, naturally enough, restored his anxiety in full measure but with a definite object. Ian had no idea how long he had slept. That hellion he had married could have ordered ten or a hundred murders by now.

"Alinor."

In a moment she was at the bed, putting back the curtains. She wore only a soft green bedrobe that made her eyes look the color of the sea over pale sand and exposed her white throat. Her expression was as sweet and compliant as any man could desire; her voice, as she asked in what way she could serve her lord, was as soft and musical as if it could never snap as viciously as any whip. All Ian wanted to do was pull her down beside him and caress her. He steeled himself against the tempting weakness.

"Send your maid out," Ian said.

Alinor raised a brow but made no protest. She sent Gertrude away, then returned. Her expression was still sweet, a half smile still curved her lips, but her eyes were wary.

"What I desire now is that you remember what you swore to me here, last night, that in this chamber there would be no lies. Then tell me what you have done about Sir Peter."

"Done? About Sir Peter himself? Nothing."

"Alinor―"

"If you do not believe what I answer, why do you bother to question me?"

The green of Alinor's eyes was hard as emerald now; the voice, still flexible and expressive, nonetheless held a note of steel.

"I will believe that you have not personally attacked Sir Peter with knife or sword. I want to know what orders you have given about him."

"About him? None."

Relieved of his most pressing fear, Ian grinned. It was rather fun to match wits with Alinor. He could see that she did not wish to anger him by refusing to answer, and he believed that she would keep her word and not tell a flat lie. In this chamber she would speak the literal truth. The trick was to recognize when the literal truth was as good as a lie, to ask such questions as would not force her into a stubborn silence and yet would produce answers that could be pieced together to mean something.

"Will Sir Peter be allowed to leave here in peace and to arrive at Clyro Hill in possession of his health, his wits, and all his limbs?"

Alinor stared at him blankly and then began to laugh. "It would serve you right if I made you waste half the morning drawing from me piece by piece what you want to know. Why do you not ask outright? I have told you the exact truth."

"I am sure you have. So exact that if what befalls Sir Peter is one hairsbreadth to one side or the other of what you have said, I will not be able to call you a liar. As to asking straight—" Suddenly Ian's face became bleak, his eyes distant. "What can I do if you refuse to answer me? Do not mistake me, Alinor. It is not you I fear but myself. I have seen what follows when a man uses his strength against a woman."

Stricken by sympathy, Alinor nearly assured her husband that she would keep nothing from him. Good sense restrained her at the last moment so that she only said, "I have nothing to hide on the subject of Sir Peter. He has served me well and faithfully in the past. His looks were strange, but that could mean many things. Also, when I bethought me of what you said, I came to see the truth of it. What is more, the man has a wife and children—" Her eyes hardened again. "Whom, you will note, he did not bring with him."

"That has no meaning. It is a long way and he might fear to leave the keep unguarded or fear the weather or the dangers of the road. These days the safest place for a woman, unless a man has a large retinue, is in her own keep."

"Yes, that is true. So, thinking of those matters, Sir Peter will go in peace and come home hale and hearty— or, if he does not, it will not be by my doing or even my wishing."

Amusement had returned to Ian's eyes. "Alinor, I find it hard to believe you have done nothing at all."

"I do not ask you to believe it. I have sent messengers —who will surely outride Sir Peter—to the garrison of the keep, civilly informing the men of my marriage and the fact that my husband, Lord Ian de Vipont, is my deputy and, thus, to be obeyed above the order of any other man. I reminded them that my marriage changes nothing, that their first loyalty is to me, and that if Lord Ian seeks entrance to my keep and it is not opened to him, with or without Sir Peter's permission, my vengeance will fall upon them, and not lightly." Alinor paused and examined Ian's face. "Now what is wrong?"

"To suborn Sir Peter's men―"

"They are not his!" Alinor exclaimed explosively, her eyes wide, her lips drawn back from her teeth. "They are mine! Mine to me!"

"Alinor!"

She drew breath. "They are mine," she said more quietly. "Every year, except when I was in the Holy Land and the one year when Simon was ill, I have gone myself to pay them and to give them, as agreed, a suit of clothes and shoes. I have seen, I myself, not Sir Peter, that their mail was sound, that their food was good. I have listened in private to their complaints. I have taken their oaths—oaths to me!"

"I am not contesting your right," Ian said slowly, "but to go behind Sir Peter's back―"

"To do what?" Alinor snapped. "Have I bid my men disobey Sir Peter in any reasonable order? If he be loyal to me, they will be loyal to him."