Claudia Dain (37 page)

She looked again at Nicholas. Perhaps he had a purpose yet. Perhaps she could use him to work her way free. St. Ives was rich, but even a land-poor knight would not tolerate the loss of his good name with his fellow knights. A wife unmanageable was a wife unpalatable.

She looked at Nicholas. And smiled.

Ulrich was not behind her, as he had been. She saw that Conor had pulled him off and was talking softly to him, yet with an urgency that was usual for Conor. A most urgent and intense man was her uncle, and inclined to bluster into trouble for its own sake. But if Conor kept Ulrich at his side, could she not use that to her own good?

She must find a way out of the consummation. She would not lose, not at this. It was almost certain that Ulrich would not fall. His ardor was too hot, his confidence too high, his enjoyment of their battles too keen. Aye, that was what was sinking her chances in this game of bodies and of words. He had no fear of her. He enjoyed her barbs and bristles, reveling in jousting with her, smiling at her jabs and laughing at her insults.

Was there ever such a knight?

She credited him too high. A knight who was hungry for land and place would endure much. Let there be no soft wrapping around the hard force of his ambition. He cherished her because he cherished what he could have by winning her.

'Twas the way of the world. She did not despise him for playing so well within the rules. 'Twas only that she would not.

He had called it right. She would lie and cheat to win because to win was all that mattered. Her father had taught her that.

The only rule was winning, and the only measure was success. And if success grew cold and dark, shadows within empty shadows, what could she do against it? She was caught within the jaws of a lie, a distant bargaining she must keep, for if she listened to her heart, if she let herself melt into the heat of Ulrich, then he would know her for what she was: a liar and a cheat. Her legend nothing but a lie. Juliane nothing but a lie draped in the cloak of ancient deceit. Ancient, for this lie had wrapped itself around her heart for years, and there was no escaping it now. Not now, not ever. What man would want her if he knew the truth?

Ulrich would hate her if he knew the truth.

She would rather live without him than live within the borders of his hate.

"Do you go to your chamber now?" Avice asked from behind her. The press of bodies was all about them. Avice was pushed hard against her back, though her words were spoken softly. "I will attend, if you like."

"Nay. I am not going to run up the winding stair, pretending willingness," Juliane said, eyeing Nicholas. "I would rather fight this battle in a chamber without a bed to mark it."

"'Tis late for that," Avice said.

"But not too late. Until his cock drips upon the sheets, I can still work myself free of him."

"Do you still want this fight, or is it only that you cannot bear to lose?"

Juliane looked askance at her sister. "Are you so fond of losing, then?"

"Nay, but not all things may be won," Avice said.

Juliane stopped and stared at her sister. "What have you lost that you say so?" When Avice said nothing but only met her stare with a stony look, Juliane suddenly knew and said, "Edward. What has he won from you?"

"A kiss," Avice said, dropping her gaze to the stone slabs beneath their feet.

"A kiss? What sort of kiss to leave you so changed?"

"A simple kiss," Avice said stiffly.

"Simple?" Juliane snorted. "Not to leave you so. I know something of kisses, more than you, and this kiss robbed you, Avice. You are not as you were, and he has made you so, with much rejoicing on his part, I am certain."

"Certain, are you? Look at him and tell me the same," Avice snapped, jerking her head in the direction of Edward.

He stood beneath the rood, rooted there, by the look of him, his glowing eyes of hazel dimmed by sorrow and anger and loss, his mouth a frown of confusion, his shoulders stiff under a load of pain. Or so he looked.

Romantic rubbish, a vision fit for a troubadour, but not for Juliane. She was too experienced at deceiving to be so deceived.

"What was the wager?" Juliane asked.

"A kiss, given willingly by me, and then he would sing my name throughout the land, praising me. As you are praised, Juliane."

"Why this wager, Avice? What did you gain that has any meaning?" Juliane asked, taking Avice by the hand and stroking her sister's fingers with her thumb. So innocent she was. So young to desire the power of legend, not knowing that legends had weight and form and made demands of their own.

"A name, Juliane," Avice said, tears rising swift and strong. "A name which all men speak and a legend to follow me into heaven."

"In heaven we are free of legends," Juliane said gently. "'Tis only on earth that we must bear the weight of them."

"You bear no weight, Juliane," Avice said, blinking away her tears. "Your legend is a golden shield, shining bright and strong for all to see."

"Aye," Juliane said, taking Avice into a soft hug and whispering in her ear, "a shield. To keep all away. Look not for legend. It is an empty chalice."

"Empty? That is not so. Your legend fills your life, making you great."

"Great? Because troubadours in search of food and a roof sing of me? Because men come to test their mettle against a living legend of frost? What greatness there, Avice? Men come, but not for
me
; they come to make their own legend by killing mine. If any man came for me, then that would be something of which to sing. But they do not," she whispered. "I stand alone. Ever alone, with only my legend to cloak me. And I, even I, grow cold with such a thin cloak to shield me from the world."

"Yet what of Ulrich? If you do not fight him, he can be yours. You need not be alone."

Juliane looked to where Ulrich stood, tall and fierce and clean; would that she could let herself fall to him, fall into him, safe and warm in a cold world ruled by battle and by victory. But she could not. She could not. She was trapped within the lie.

"I have my legend," she said, tears filling the corners of her eyes as she pulled her gaze from Ulrich to face her sister. "I must be true to it."

"I love you," Avice answered, smiling through her tears, "but I do not understand you."

"I love you in return," Juliane said, taking Avice in her arms for a soft embrace, "and understanding is not required for love." They stood so, letting the chapel empty some, letting some measure of peace and healing fill them. "Tell me: Did you win the wager?"

Avice pulled back and smiled crookedly through her drying tears. "Aye. I won."

"Of course you won," Juliane said. "Now tell me how the winning stripped your heart and left you empty of all but loss."

"Lady," Nicholas said, intruding with ease upon them. Such was it with men; they ever believed themselves to be welcome. "May I have a word?"

"Only one?" Juliane asked, and then remembered that she might find some purpose for this forward man and quickly cloaked her sarcasm in a smile designed to blind. "Of a certainty, my lord. As many words as you wish."

"Lady," he said, "I make ready to leave. Will you walk with me, bidding me farewell?"

He was leaving? She must use him now or use him not at all.

"Aye, I will," she answered, "though I wonder that my husband will not beat me for such converse with a man he has good cause not to trust."

Nicholas grinned and said, "Lady, I do not believe it is in any man to beat Juliane le Gel for any cause. I think Ulrich knows well just what he has won in winning you."

Juliane raised her brows in some surprise and smiled back at him, thinking hard. What did he want? Why else did a man offer praise but that he wanted some thing of a woman, some dark and self-serving thing.

"Avice?" Christine interjected. "Edward wants a word. Will you go to him?"

"He begs a word," Juliane said, smiling at her sister. "A victory most profound, Avice."

"Aye, I will," Avice said. "My lord?" she said in parting to Nicholas, who bowed upon her leaving.

"And now we are alone," Nicholas said.

"In a chapel full of folk," she answered with a tilt of her head.

"I would have more solitude than this. If you will agree."

"I will agree, with my groom at my back," she said. She was no fool. Nicholas had proved himself by that forced kiss; she would not trust to chivalry with him. Let Baldric prove his function, that of protecting her from rough knights angered by defeat. "I will walk with you to the stables, if my husband agrees. I wonder if he will. He has no cause to trust you."

"Yet he has no cause to distrust you," Nicholas said.

"Not yet," she answered, laying out her lure for him to consider.

If Nicholas made another move upon her, and she received it well, would Ulrich discard her? It was not likely. Broken fidelity was a matter between men; women, the object of the game, played the smallest part of all. Yet what else to do? She could not be Ulrich's wife upon Ulrich's bed; her path had been decided long before the coming of Ulrich to Stanora's gates.

Hard loss, to lose such a man and in such a way. But she could see no other path than the one before her, Nicholas at its gate, urging her to enter and leave all doubt behind. And so she went, decided. There was no turning from this path. She had made her choice long years ago, though she had not seen this bleak end.

"Not yet? You entice me, lady," he said.

"Have I?" she said with a slow smile, taking the first steps in breaking her bond with Ulrich. "Does my husband watch, and does he know that you are enticed by his wife of an hour?"

"Your lord and master is well engaged," Nicholas said, indicating Ulrich with a flick of his head. It was true. Conor still had Ulrich by the shoulder, filling his ear with nothing that would aid her, that was certain. "He has no eyes for you. Not such as I have."

"Then let us walk, my lord," she said with a soft smile, casting Ulrich away with hands that trembled just a little.

Casting dreams aside because of a bargain made when she was as young and naive as Avice was now.

Baldric appeared from out of the shadows of the chapel and walked without a word to a spot behind her back. Without a word, though he looked most troubled and unsettled. So troubled that she gave him a questioning look.

He scowled and pointed back to the chapel, back to where her husband stood, back to what could only be the place of her dishonor and defeat. She could not go back.

"You are content in your marriage?" Nicholas asked, taking her arm in his hand.

"Content?" she said. "I spoke my vows by my father's will. What other answer must I give?"

"You are dutiful," he said, looking down at her. His eyes were very dark and very deep, his lashes long. A wide scar marked his temple and slid into his hair, leaving a narrow strip of shining scalp. "In all the tales of you, none mentions your gentle submission. A careless omission."

"Perhaps because women are always to be gently submissive. What power in that tale?" she said. "The troubadours would starve if they sang of the mundane."

"You are far from mundane. You are celestial, Juliane. A woman who deserves the very stars. A woman who sings out—"

"I am a woman very much of the earth," she said, interrupting him. If he did not do something that would scald Ulrich before he left, what good did he do her? She must break free and Nicholas must play his part. "I have no need of stars."

Baldric mumbled something at her back and she turned to him, frowning. He stopped mumbling, but he did not stop scowling.

They had almost reached the stables; the bailey was quiet, the summer twilight softly growing by pink and purple bands of cloud.

"Would you ride with me then, Lady of Earth?" Nicholas said. "Would you ride with me down the plain until the track enters the wood? I would keep your company as long as I may, stealing from Ulrich what I might."

Ride off through the gates of Stanora with another man within the hour of exchanging marriage vows? Aye, that might do it, might break Ulrich's pride and free her from his grasp. And from his heat.

"'Tis a soft twilight," she said, smiling up at dark Nicholas. "I would enjoy a ride across the plain of Stanora. But only to the wood," she teased, "for I must guard my heart and my good name."

"Lady, your name is safe within my care," he said, teasing her in return.

Baldric coughed loudly and then spat, drawing her attention most well.

"Aye?" she said, turning to Baldric.

"Ulrich awaits, lady," Baldric said. "You should stay here, within the walls."

"Your lady does not answer to you," Nicholas said, his dark eyes glowing with sudden anger. A most changeable man, his temper uncertain. Best get this done and quickly.

"And well he knows it," Juliane said, taking Baldric by his stout arm and leading him into the shelter of the stables. Once Nicholas had been left without, she whispered, "Get Frost for me. I will need a mount that will run upon my whim. I have a plan in play. Do not thwart me, Baldric. Only stay the course a bit more, and all will be accomplished to my will."