Anita Mills (4 page)

Elizabeth noted the tightness of her brother’s jaw and knew that he would not be appeased. And she sympathized with him. For far too long he had chafed under the weight of being Guy of Rivaux’s only son, and the burden was as onerous as being neither wife nor maid in her father’s house.
It was as onerous as being asked to wed again.

And in that moment she knew what she could do. So she must be useful to her father, must she? “Richard, if you will support me against a marriage, I will stand with you on this,” she decided abruptly. “Aye, I’d speak with Papa for you.”

“Nay, but I see not how.” Then, perceiving that she was already walking toward the end of the hall where Guy held his council, he started after her. “Liza, you cannot go there. Jesu, but … I’d not hide behind your skirts either, sister.”

“Stand with me, Richard—’tis all I ask,” she answered over her shoulder. “We will serve each other.”

The council was over, but several Norman nobles remained in the room, some still disputing amongst themselves over the wisdom of moving against Stephen now, others waiting to speak individually with Guy of Rivaux. Elizabeth smoothed the deep green samite of her gown over her hips, then reached to straighten the baudekin veil over her hair, before she entered the reception area. As she approached her father’s carved chair she moved with a confidence she did not feel, for the Count of Eury stood but a few feet away.

Ignoring him, she dropped to her knees before Guy. “Papa, I’d speak with you,” she said clearly. “I am come to seek your favor.”

She’d intruded where many considered a woman unwelcome, and even her father lifted his scar-divided eyebrow in surprise. Nonetheless, he nodded. “Rise, daughter, for you have always had it.”

The room was suddenly silent, save for the blazing fire that popped and crackled loudly at the end of the room. Even those who’d lingered in speech turned to watch curiously as the tall, graceful woman rose to stand before her sire.

“What would you of me?” he prompted when she said nothing.

She ought to have sought him out when he was alone, and she realized it. As it was, he appeared tired from arguing with his vassals. With a start, it came home to her that Guy of Rivaux was no longer young. All of her life, she’d expected him to somehow live forever—to be greater than other, more mortal men.

But he was past fifty now, and yet he embarked on the most perilous course of his life.

“My lord father …”

His eyebrow lifted further at the formality, and his flecked eyes were wary. “I am to assume ’tis a matter of some import then?”

“Aye. ’Tis the matter of Harlowe, my lord.”

“ ’Tis not like Richard to send anyone to plead his cause, Elizabeth,” he noted gently.

“Nay, but he would not go. Papa, consider: as it stands between Stephen and Anjou—and the Empress—you have need of him here. He can command men, whilst—”

“Nay, daughter, Normandy needs me more, I think, for there are those who will follow Guy of Rivaux where Richard could not lead them.”

Behind her she could hear Reyner of Eury mutter to another, “ ’Tis overmuch—the woman is too bold. Were I Count Guy, I’d send her to the nuns.”

“My lord … Papa …”

“When I do not renew my oath, Stephen will hold Harlowe forfeit, Elizabeth,” he reminded her quietly. “I must move quickly to see that it is not betrayed. As there is none other I can send, Richard has not the luxury of choice.” He looked past her to where her brother now stood in the door. “And so I have said to you, my son.”

“So you have said, my lord father.”

There was bitter resignation written on Richard’s face, and Elizabeth understood it well. All of his life her brother had lived as son to a great man, struggling for recognition in his own right. Too often it had been a source of rancor between them, but lately they’d reconciled. They were the two men she loved above all others, and she’d not see them estranged again. Sucking in her breath, she dared to offer herself. She exhaled slowly to gain courage.

“Papa, I’d go.”

The Count of Eury gave a derisive snort, prompting Elizabeth to stand even taller as she met Guy’s gaze soberly. “Aye, Papa. You would have one of Eleanor of Nantes’ blood there, would you not? And ’tis a defensive position, is it not? I swear I’ll not yield if King Stephen besieges the keep himself.”

“Nay, Elizabeth, ’tis too far, and I cannot send an army with you.”

“But you have the greater need of Richard here, I think, for there are those who would follow Rivaux of Celesin also, Papa.”

“Liza, ’tis war,” Guy protested. “In peace, aye, but … ’tis not even safe to travel the roads since Stephen is king.”

“The greater reason to offer Richard’s sword with yours: the Empress will expect it. Aye, and I also am born of the blood of Rivaux,” she added passionately. “Papa, there is more of you in me than in any but Richard. I can hold Harlowe, I can see it does not surrender to Stephen.”

There was truth in that, and he knew it. She was so unlike her mother or her sisters, he conceded, but she was still a woman. He shook his head. “Aye, I doubt you not, but what if you should fall into the hands of mine enemies? What if you cannot reach Harlowe?”

“ ’Twould be the same as if Richard did.”

“You know not the men.”

“Neither does Richard.”

“If there were any to defy Liza, she’d hang them.” Moving to stand beside her, her brother added his argument to hers. “With your writ, there’ll be none to gainsay her, I’ll warrant—not overlong, anyway.” Favoring her with a grin, he nodded. “Aye, there’s not many to stand before her tongue.”

“I’d hold Harlowe for you, Papa,” she pleaded. “I fear nothing of King Stephen. Nay, I fear no one, for I am Rivaux. I bear the blood you have given me, Papa. There is much of you in me.”

The way she said it sent a shiver down Guy’s spine, and as he looked into those green eyes of hers he saw something that startled him. Always fearing the blood he’d given his son, could he have somehow have overlooked what he’d given her? It was as though the years fell away and he looked once again into the face of his own father. Had he missed seeing it before because she was a girl?

“I am naught of use here,” she argued. “As you said, you have Maman to see to Rivaux. Send me to Harlowe, and I swear I will hold it—I swear it, Papa!”

“Elizabeth…”

“The woman’s gone daft, my lord!” Count Reyner objected. “Harlowe is too valuable to the Empress to give into the Lady Elizabeth’s keeping. Let a liege man defend it for you—let one whose oath you have hold it.”

“Would you have me swear to you also, Papa?” Before Guy could answer, she dropped to her knees in front of him and thrust her hands between his. “I’d give you mine oath, if ‘twould persuade you.”

His hands closed around hers, but he shook his head. “ ’Tis not seemly, Elizabeth. A woman—”

“You swore to the Empress and received her oath in return,” Richard reminded him. “Nay, but I believe Liza would hold Harlowe—and ease our grandmother’s grief also.”

Not to be denied, Elizabeth looked up at her father, beginning the age-old words of fealty in a clear, strong voice before he could stop her: “I promise by my faith that from this time forward, I, Elizabeth of Rivaux, will serve Guy, Count of Rivaux, Earl of Harlowe, and Lord of the Condes and lesser domains, that I will maintain toward him my homage entirely and against every man.”

“My lord, ’tis folly!” Reyner protested loudly.

“ ‘In good faith and without deception,’ ” Richard spoke up, supplying the words.

“In good faith and without deception,” she repeated.

“ ‘Save in matters that conflict with my sovereign,’ ” he added, finishing the oath.

“Nay, to Guy of Rivaux only.” Her eyes still on Guy’s, she continued. “I so swear—may God strike me dead if I bear false witness this day, Papa.” Her homage said, she dropped her head and waited, scarce able to breathe.

Sometimes Guy wondered if God had made a mistake in her, if he’d not intended her to be his second son. Over her head he looked to Richard, then to the disapproving faces of those allies and vassals yet in attendance. But his family was in truth unlike any other, bound together not only by love but also by the secret that could still destroy all of them. His fingers tightened on his daughter’s hands, gripping them, as he looked down on her bent head, daring to see what he’d so long denied.

Richard could almost see his father’s thoughts. “Nay, Papa, she is but her father’s daughter—she is as you are.”

“So be it then,” Guy said finally, clearing his throat of its sudden huskiness. “Elizabeth of Rivaux, I hereby charge you with the defense of Harlowe in my name and against every man.” Raising her, he gave her the customary kiss of peace between them, first on one cheek, then on the other. “God aid you to keep your oath to me.”

“Well, Liza, you are like no other woman now,” Richard teased behind her. “You are become your father’s liege man before you are his daughter.”

“Nay, she is my flesh first,” Guy said softly, embracing her. “Always that.”

Her green eyes brimming, Elizabeth managed to smile and whisper, “My thanks, Papa—I’ll give you no cause for regret. I will hold Harlowe so long as you wish it.”

“I think all of you mad,” Reyner snapped. “She is but a woman, after all.”

Turning to the count, Guy’s eyes went hard. “She is daughter to me, my lord.”

And the way Guy said it chilled the lord of Eury. His eyes traveled over Elizabeth of Rivaux, seeing once again the girl who’d failed in her duty to his son, who’d failed him. Reyner nonetheless hid his hatred for both of them and nodded. “If it pleases you, Count Guy, then there’s naught else to be said.”

Pacing the narrow, flagstoned floor of the abbot’s chamber, Elizabeth sought to control her temper. Before her Rannulf de Coucy, captain of her escort, and Brother Amyas, her host, argued against traveling further. It was, they insisted, too dangerous, for ‘twas said the roads were beset by bands of brigands.

“Nay, but we go,” she cut in coldly.

“Gentle lady …” the abbot began, then, quailing beneath the incredulous look she gave him, he finished lamely, “ ’tis but for your safety. I’d not see harm come to Count Guy’s daughter.”

“By robbers? Jesu, but they’d not dare!” Her samite gown swished against the stone floor as she turned imperiously to face him. “By your leave—or without it even—I mean to depart for Harlowe at first light on the morrow. Now, do you provision my men for the journey or not?”

“Lady …”

“And if you are too craven to accompany me, Sir Rannulf, I shall continue to Harlowe alone,” she interrupted him coldly. “Well, Brother Amyas, I await.” To demonstrate her impatience, she tapped the toe of her kid slipper against the flagstones.

Thinking Elizabeth of Rivaux must be much like the Empress herself, the abbot shook his head, wondering how to dissuade her. Surely her father could not want him to let her go on. “Nay, but you cannot— That is to say, you must not …” Once again, his voice trailed off beneath her angry stare. Holy Mary, but whence came such a woman, he asked himself. “Lady, ’tis to your husband or father you must look for protection, and I’d not—”

“I have no husband,” she answered sharply, “and ’tis my father who charges me to go. Rannulf, you will take what you need, and I will leave sufficient gold to pay for it.” Her green eyes met the abbot’s, holding them until he had to look down. “Aye, and there will be enough beyond the cost to pay for Masses for my grandsire of Harlowe’s soul.”

“Lady, ’tis for your safety,” Rannulf protested. “Surely—”

“You are to follow me and none other,” she reminded him. “I am sworn to my father that I will defend Harlowe for him—and afore God I will! Now, do you come with me, or would you go back to Guy of Rivaux?”

Both men stared at her with open dislike, but she cared not. She’d meant what she said: if she had to order Rannulf de Coucy back to Normandy and go on without him, she would.

It was not meet for a woman to lead, Rannulf reflected bitterly, and it was not right for Count Guy to have sent him with her. Jesu, but she thought herself as good as a man! Yet when he looked into those eyes of hers, a chill went through him that he could not explain. While she was possessed of her mother’s fiery temper, she had her father’s steel—and more. There was little softness in this daughter of Rivaux, little of that weakness that was woman. Nay, but this one was cold enough to see him dead if he did not obey. Sighing heavily, he turned toward the fire that popped in the brazier.

“Aye,” he said finally. “But let it be said I go unwilling. I count it folly still.”

“Indeed, once ’tis known Count Guy did not renew his oath to the king, his lands here are forfeit,” Abbot Amyas reminded her. “King Stephen—”

“Stephen will have to take Harlowe, and that he will not do as long as my father and brother yet breathe.”

“Aye, but we are not speaking only of keeps, my lady—we are speaking of your person. There are those who would close their castle gates against you if you are attacked—or else they will seek a ransom for you. Count Guy cannot guarantee your safety now in England.”

The captain nodded agreement. “Aye, what of de Mandeville? He raids with impunity, saying he destroys Stephen’s enemies.”

“There’s been none since Robert of Belesme to destroy so much,” Amyas pointed out. “And de Mandeville is not the only one who seeks to profit.”

Sucking in his breath before daring again to meet those hostile green eyes, Rannulf nodded. “And thirty men are not enough, lady—’twould but invite attack.”

“And for a woman such as yourself—a widow— there is the thought that you could be dowered with Count Guy’s forfeited lands,” the abbot added.

She moved away, walking to the window that fronted the enclosed courtyard. Unhooking the shutters, she looked silently out into the cold mist. Nay, but she’d not traveled across Normandy and the South of England, through sleet and rain and mud, to fail. Neither her father nor her grandsire before her would have turned back, and she knew it. Aye, and neither would Richard. Her back to Rannulf and the abbot, she squared her shoulders. “I go as a nun then, taking but two men for escort. Choose one you would trust to go with us, Rannulf. Surely not even the worst brigand would jeopardize his immortal soul by making war against a poor nun on pilgrimage.” Ignoring their shocked gasps, she leaned into the cold air. “All must be ready at first light.”