Joanna (31 page)

“Hush, love, no one hates you. No one could.” Geoffrey tightened his grip and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the heel of his hand. “But there are some who hate meaccursed that I am to have left you alone to face their spiteand, beloved, the king hates your mother. Are you sure”

“That it was not the king, I am sure,” Joanna replied steadily. “He was the wrong shape for John. Who could mistake the king? He is a tub upon legs. And, whatever he feels about my mother, John does not hate
me
. He looks at me as if I were a particularly tasty tidbit on his platewith no more emotion than thatand sometimes with a flicker of malicious humor, but not hate.”   There was one more possibility. “Could this filth’s intention have been to bring you to the king by force?”

“No,” Joanna said, drawing in on herself in revulsion. “He intended to have me here or somewhere downriver and to leave me naked and bleeding on the bank for all to see. Look at my gown! Would any man with orders from the king dare despoil me?”

Geoffrey made a strangled sound and Joanna began to sob again.

“He hated me,” she wept. “Me! What have I done that anyone should hate me?”

“There are men with rotten souls, my love,” Geoffrey comforted. “They do not need a real reason to hate. It might be that you did not smile upon him in passing, or that you did smile and he took it for a mockery”

Only a small portion of Geoffrey’s mind was on what he was saying, but it made dreadful sense to Joanna and she stopped weeping and caught her breath. Geoffrey did not notice. He was thinking of his uncle. He was ashamed again at having thought the worst of John without real reason. John was a fool in many ways, but not, Geoffrey knew, in the practices of deceit. If John had intended to take Joanna by force or guile, he was not such an idiot as to send his men decked out in his own colors. Perhaps he was mad-proud enough to do that to another woman, but not to Joanna, not to his brother’s daughter-by-marriage.

“I do not think the king had any part in this,” Joanna said more calmly, echoing Geoffrey’s thoughts. “I think it was intended that I should blame John and either keep silence out of fear or tell you so that you would act against your uncle and fall out of favor.”

“It may be worse than that,” Geoffrey said slowly. “It might be that this was a device intended to break my father away from his brother. It needs only that, I fear, to begin a dissension that would topple the king from the throne altogether.”

Joanna did not contest that statement. To the world at large and to John himself it might seem that the king was   never more powerful, but Joanna knew how worried Salisbury was, knew that he believed it needed only one spark to set the tinder of the barons’ dissatisfaction afire and blaze up into a civil war. Usually she would have thought to herself that it might well be worth civil war to be rid of John, but now she was outraged. She was not less sure of the hatred her attacker felt for herand she was ashamed, realizing that she had done something, although not a thing to deserve thisbut she could not deny that there might have been purpose layered on purpose in the attack. Joanna had a strong sense of fair play. If Braybrook hated her, and she was almost sure it had been he, that was one thing. But to use that hate to bring trouble upon an innocent bystander was outrageous.

The impersonal sense of injustice permitted Joanna to conquer the remainder of her fear and revulsion. She could not imagine her innocent jest having engendered such hatred in anyone. However, if dislike for her were mixed with another, deeper purpose, the attack became more rational and less fearful. It became reasonable that the man would not speak if he believed she would recognize his voice and know he had nothing to do with the king. Joanna sat more upright, her eyes clearing.

“Geoffrey, I thinkgood heavens, why are we sitting here talking while you drip blood. Shall I see to you here, or will you come up to the house?”

“You are quickly recovered, are you not?” Geoffrey asked suspiciously.

“Yes, because it comes to me that you are right. It was the hate that frightened me; that anyone could hate me so deeply was insane. But someone could dislike me, and dislike you too, and see that discomfiting us could harm the king also. That is not mad. It is wicked, and I am very, very angrybut not frightened. I know how to guard myself against those with real purposes. Never mind me. Let me see your hurt Geoffrey.”

A brief examination made Joanna insist that Geoffrey   come back to the house so she could sew the tear. He did not argue, merely telling her to go ahead and he would follow. He then rescued his boatmen, who had been taken prisoner along with the others and told them to secure both crafts until he was sure what to do about the larger one. Finally, he told Beorn to take the prisoners where their screams would not disturb him and Joanna and find out what they knew. When Joanna was finished with him, he sent off a message to his father, which naturally brought Salisbury and Ela up to Joanna’s house in anxious haste. They found one victim calmly embroidering, the other lounging in a cushioned chair with an angry frown on his face and a number of pieces of black cloth in his hands.

“You are hurt, boy,” Salisbury said, judging correctly Geoffrey’s posture.

“A slit in my hidenothing,” Geoffrey replied, holding out the crude masks. “Look here.”

Salisbury instead looked at Joanna, who nodded and smiled, confirming that Geoffrey’s hurt was slight. A faint expression of satisfaction appeared in Salisbury’s eyes as he looked back at his son. “You will not be able to take part in the tourney then,” he said.

To his surprise, Geoffrey cocked a brow at him, but did not offer any argument. Instead he said, “You need not fear that Braybrook and I will come to blows. It is heI would almost wager my life upon itwho will not take part.”

“Was it he?” Salisbury asked anxiously, referring to the attack on Joanna. “What have you done to him? With him?”

“I have done nothing.” Geoffrey grinned nastily. “But I believe Brian has had a mouthful out of his assa big enough mouthful that Braybrook will not sit a horse for some time to come.”

“Brian?” Salisbury looked at the dog who, hearing his name, lolled out his tongue with an idiotic expression of good nature and began to thump the ground with his tail. “Does it have courage and sense enough to bite its own   fleas?” he asked contemptuously, careful not to use the dog’s name again for fear he would rush over and make love to him.

“Do not underestimate Brian,” Joanna said with a slight reminiscent shudder. “I had all I could do to keep him from tearing out Braybrook’s throatif it was he.”

“The dog killed one of the guardsmen that way,” Geoffrey added soberly. I have never seen it done so fast. Never mind that, but look here at these garments.”

His gesture indicated an untidy heap of clothing on the floor beside his chair. Salisbury walked over, bent, and then rose without touching them, his face gray.

“I do not believe it,” he breathed.

“Neither do we,” Geoffrey assured him at once. “A man does not come to commit an abomination with his guardsmen decked out in his own colors and then cover their faces and his with these.” He held out the masks again.

“Too late,” Ela whispered, her eyes blank and blinded by tears. “It is too late.”

Salisbury paid no attention to her, but his expression was just as set. “What will you do?” he asked his son.

“You tell me,” Geoffrey said. “When Beorn told me the men were wearing John’s colors, naturally I bid him call off the searching parties. The last thing I desired was to find the king or even one of his acknowledged henchmen. Later, when Joanna told me they wore masks, I began to realize that the king could have no part in this. Then Beorn put the question to the two men we captured. They did not know the man who had hired them; he was not the same as the man on the boat and they had never seen that man’s face. They had been told they were on the king’s business and would be protected; that was all they knew. This convinced me more than all that John is innocent. What idiot would hire strangers for a dirty deed and then dress them in his own colors?”

“But why?”

Geoffrey looked at his father for a long moment, then dropped his eyes. If Salisbury could ask such a question,   there was no sense in answering it other than on a purely practical level. “Since John is guiltless, then dressing the men in his livery could only be a deliberate attempt to blacken him, possibly if Joanna cried aloud ofof what had befallen her, to make you bitter against him. What I do not know is whether it is better to spread the story of the fruitless attack and Brian’s part in checking itwhich will soon make the guilty man known to all. How many men in the court will have dog bites on back and buttock? Or whether we should act as if it never happened.”

“Can it be kept secret?” Salisbury asked uneasily.

“Why not? Whoever did it will never talk, even if it was not that lily-livered cur Braybrook. The men are deadall except the one who fell into the river. If he is not drowned, he will still hold his tongue.”

“Joanna,” Salisbury said gently, “do you agree to this? It is you who have been offended.”

“For the little hurt done me, I have been well avenged between Brian’s work and Geoffrey’s. And I do not like to see any man unjustly usedeven the king. I will agree to whatever you and Geoffrey think is best.”

“Then secrecy is best,” Salisbury sighed. “I do not like it, but to speak the truth, if a whisper of these garments comes to the court, nothing anyone said could keep the king’s name clean.”

“No, for good reason,” Ela remarked bitterly. “William, do you not see what this means? If Braybrook’s son was party to this scheme”

“The boy is a fool,” Salisbury growled. “I swear the father knows nothing of this. And there is no proof it was Henry. Why do you think it?”

“Whom else have Joanna and I both offended?” Geoffrey asked. He shrugged, then winced. “It will be put to the proof soon enough. If he is missing from the court tomorrowWhich reminds me that if this matter is to be kept secret, I
must
fight in the tourney. I cannot confess to being hurt, and I have no other reason to avoid it.”

Salisbury nodded without concern. “We will see how you   feel. Some excuse can be found at the last hour if the wound troubles you. This will be nothing. Everyone likes Alexander and all wish to avoid marring his knighting with death or sadness.”

Concealment having been decided upon, there were ends to tie up. Salisbury’s boatman was summoned and told to discover the owner of the craft Braybrook had used and return it so that there would be no outcry over its loss. The bodies of the hirelings were cast into a cart and sent out with a detail of men to be buried in secret. There was no need for Geoffrey to show himself in court that evening. It was reasonable that, having taken his betrothed on the river after a hard morning’s hunting, he would wish to spend a quiet few hours by the fireside.

The next day, Braybrook was indeed missing from court. When Geoffrey arrived, some wondered aloud whether Braybrook’s absence was a response to Geoffrey’s reappearance. To such hints, Geoffrey returned no answer beside a smile, and he took up his usual pursuits except that he was never out of eyeshot of Joanna. Fortunately, only a few days remained before the culmination of the festivities. On the night of March 7, Alexander stood his vigil. The knighting and feast took place on March 8. Had Joanna been able to get any sense out of her betrothed, she might have demurred at his fighting in the tourney the next day. Geoffrey, however, was too drunk by the end of the feast to do anything but giggle when she protested that his wound, although not serious, was still unhealed and would make him awkward.

She did not argue long, discovering that Geoffrey was no safe company for her that night. Hardly were they alone, when he embraced her far too fervently. In fact, had he not been too inebriated to balance himself properly or to be effective as a lover, he would have accomplished what Braybrook failed to do. Joanna was far more amused than shocked. Ian had a tendency to become amorous when he was drunk also, and Joanna had watched Alinor’s technique for handling him when it was impossible to yield to his desire. She escaped without difficulty. Then, having tempted him down the stairs with offers of unspecified delightsincluding more wineshe bid Knud and Beorn put him to bed.

There would be no sense in arguing the subject the next morning, Joanna decided. She was not really fearful for Geoffrey. She had felt out the temper of the court in the past three days. It was very clear that what Salisbury had said was true. Everyone intended that the tourney should be a set piece of chivalry and excitement without death or serious injury to becloud the pleasure. What was less clear to Joanna was the reason behind the intention. Salisbury said it was because everyone liked Alexander. That the young man was a general favorite was true, but Ela saidand Joanna reluctantly agreedthat it was not for his sake that every face was wreathed in smiles.

Those smiles made Joanna’s throat tighten with fear. They curved the lips of men who had very little reason to smile in John’s presence. The king, knowing this, preened himself all the more, believing that all feared him so greatly that they dared do nothing beyond grovel, no matter what insult he put upon them. But it was not fear that Joanna saw in the eyes that were kept lowered when they fronted the king.

“They wish to smooth over all quarrels so that no questions need be raised on any subject,” Joanna told Geoffrey before they left for the tourney. “Something is being planned. I know it.”

“I know it too,” Geoffrey snarled, holding a hand to his throbbing head. “What do you want me to do? I have told my father and seen him look near to weeping while he shrugged my warning away. He knows also. Do you think he has not tried to make John moderate his ways? At least whatever will happen will not happen today. I will think about it tomorrow.”  
p.

There seemed to be little need for unpleasant thoughts on any subject on the day after the tourney. The event went off exactly as expected. A good time was had by all and no permanent harm was done to anyone. Geoffrey won no prizes. He was far too slight to be a dangerous jouster, but long practice against Ian had taught him to hold his own defensively so that, although he could not unseat any of his three opponents, they could not unseat him either. He was no more successful in the melee. The wild ferocity of Geoffrey’s attack, which made him so dangerous an opponent in war and had already defeated four opponents in trial by combat, was obviously out of place in so good-natured an event. Besides, everyone was holding back a little. It was agreed without spoken words that Alexander must take the prize.