Joanna (65 page)

Inside, Sir Léon grew a little cold, wondering what awful power the woman wielded. Perhaps she was a witch. He turned to Sir Guy, planning a question that might clarify the matter, and noticed that the knight was paying very similar attentions to the young girl, Sir John’s daughter, who sat beside him. The sneers at his manners began to make senseat least, not sense. To Sir Léon it did not seem to be at all sensible to waste such attentions on a woman, but, if that was the way the great ones lived, why should he mark himself as a lesser being by omitting what cost nothing to perform.

Attentive watching taught muchthat “manners” were ingrained and rather meaningless habit among these people. Young Adam certainly stood in no awe of his sister, Sir Léon soon realized. He spoke to her with great familiarity and, from time to time, they squabbled like children, breaking into laughter moments later. Sir John’s wife bore bruises that surely spoke of a beating administered by her husband, yet he used the same forms of courtesy to her. Carefully, Sir Léon began aping the ways of his betters and Sir Guy, anxious for a pleasant journey that would irritate his mistress as little as possible, helped with hints and advice.

There was plenty of time to practice. Although only a few days were spent at Mersea waiting for the ship to load, during which time Lady Joanna’s maid arrived from Kemp where she had been left, the weather was so good after they set sail that the passage was made at a snail’s pace. Often   the sailors were set to pulling at the oars because the ship was completely becalmed. Even when there was a breeze, it was so light that the ship moved hardly faster than when rowed. Joanna’s outward manner remained placid, but inside she fretted and fumed and feared and her tongue grew sharper and sharper. Sir Léon found the company of a sharp-tongued woman, who could not be beaten, could be very painful. He found himself leaping to his feet and bowing at the flicker of a woman’s skirttwice to his embarrassment to Edwina the maid.

That, however, brought him a whole new set of lessons. From that merry-hearted slut he learned what Lady Elizabeth had taught Geoffrey, that a man’s pleasure could be immeasurably heightened by restraint and the cooperation of his partner. Edwina was, after all, no common, paid whore, no terrified serf girl. When she said do thus and so and I will show you a new delight, he didand was delighted. The only trouble in his mind was that, now and again, he heard an echo of Joanna saying, “I understand well why you are surprised that your wife should want you back.” At the time he had thought her mad. Now he began to wonder uneasily what Gilliane was learning from some months of Lord Geoffrey’s company.

The morals of these high folks, he thought, were as coarse as their manners were fine. Did not Lady Joanna turn a blind eye to her maid’s doings? Did she not spend many hours in the alcove curtained off for her all alone with Sir Guy? Would Lord Geoffrey respect the wife of a simple knight or would he use Gilliane as Léon himself used the wives and daughters of his serfs? He began to curse the calm winds as heartily as Joanna did, fret as uneasily at the slow unloading and reloading of cargo in Bruges.

At last they came ashore at Dunkerque and were mounted. After that they proceeded at the rate Joanna wished to set. Still, they covered near ninety miles from Dunkerque to Baisieux in remarkably short time. Joanna knew from Sir Léon’s rising excitement when they were coming near. When he breathed, “My land, my own land,” with tears in his eyes, Joanna made a sharp gesture behind her and Sir Guy was suddenly athwart them, drawn sword   presented to Sir Léon’s unarmored breast. He gasped with surprise and horror, too stunned by this sudden, completely unexpected threat to struggle as he was bound hand and foot to the mare. Now Joanna took the reins, sheathing the knife at her belt. Knud rode on one side, Sir Guy on the other with the three men-at-arms grouping and guarding the baggage animals.

To Sir Léon’s startled protests, Joanna replied, “Did you think I intended to ride into your keep, thus yielding myself, my money, and my husband
all
into your power? I am a woman, but, as you should know by now, not a fool.”

“I am an honorable man,” he exclaimed. “I swear, I never had such a thought! Never!”

“Perhaps,” Joanna agreed, “perhaps, but there are more things than you know involved here.”

It had occurred to Joanna on the ship that two dangers still threatened. Although she and her party had been careful not to mention Isabella’s offer to Sir Léon, it was not impossible that Fitz Walter knew of it. If so, his castellan might know also and, on orders, might have explained to the “simple knight” that, having collected Geoffrey’s double ransom, the amount could be doubled yet again by killing the entire party, burying Joanna and her men quietly, and sending Geoffrey’s body to Isabella. What could be safer or simpler? It was certainly the kind of treachery Fitz Walter would think of and enjoy.

After these weeks of Sir Léon’s company, Joanna did not think this first threat a very strong probability. There was, however, also the chance that Sir Léon’s wife had thought that matter out for herself. Lady Gilliane could not know Joanna ‘would bring the ransom herself, but whoever brought it could be eliminated. Joanna’s breath grew shorter. Perhaps Geoffrey was already dead. Perhaps the woman had kept him alive only long enough to write that letter. If a hair on his head had been harmed, Joanna thought, she would send Sir Léon back to his wife all rightin very small pieces.

When they came in sight of the keep, Sir Guy moved forward to implement the next step of the plan he and Joanna had worked out in the hours he had spent shut into   her stuffy quarters aboard ship. The gates had been closed when their party came into view. Although Sir Guy had no intention of entering anyway, his heart sank. To close the gates against so small a party was a very bad sign. Usually travelers were welcomed into any keep with open arms for the sake of the variety and news they brought. Nonetheless, he called out, identifying them and demanding that Lord Geoffrey be sent out, either alone or with no more than five men to guard him.

The guard in the small tower shouted down excitedly. In a few minutes, a woman appeared in the tower. “Is it really you, Léon?” she called. “It is a bare three weeks since I sent the priest off, and he has not even returned with an answer.”

“Speak to her,” Joanna ordered. “Tell her something only you could know so that she may be sure it is truly you, in case she cannot see you clear enough.”

“Gilliane, it is I. I”

But there was no need for him to continue. Obviously his wife recognized his voice. She uttered a cry and turned to run down the steps. In the same instant the bars of the gates could be heard shifting and, as soon as possible, they opened wide. The woman appeared.

“Come in,” she called, “come in and be welcome.” Her voice shook.

“We will not enter,” Sir Guy replied. “Send Lord Geoffrey out.”

“But he is still very weak,” Lady Gilliane protested. “Come in, I beg you.”

Weak? Maybe dead? Joanna’s heart fluttered in her breast. Uncaring of arrows that might be launched from the keep or any other danger, she rode forwardthe reins in her left hand, the knife in her right flashing as it came across Sir Léon’s throat.

“Send him out!” she screamed. “Carry him out if must be, but if he is not out before the sun touches that treetop it is nearing, I will kill your husband here before your eyes.”

“In God’s name, Gilliane,” Sir Léon shouted, “she will do it. She will! Send out her man!”  
p.

Even in her short life, Joanna had suffered many sorrows and anxieties. She had watched beside her father and her infant sister as they died. She had suffered agonies in the last few weeks over Geoffrey. Nonetheless, the ten minutes between the time Lady Gilliane ran from the gates of Baisieux keep and the time a frail and haggard Geoffrey, supported by two servants, appeared in Lady Gilliane’s place were the longest in her whole life.

“Geoffrey!” she shrieked.

Her impulse was to fling herself from the saddle and run to him. With an effort that was near physical pain, she suppressed it. Instead, she turned her mare and whipped it back out of arrow range.

“Here,” she cried, “come to me here, where they cannot kill you.”

“You fool!” Geoffrey roared, producing a remarkable volume of sound for one who, a moment ago, appeared half-fainting. Invigorated by a burst of rage, he cast off the supporting arms of the servants and limped forward. “What do you here in an enemy land? With only five men to guard you? Put down that knife! Get off that horse! What do you mean by offering such an insult to people who have shown me so much kindness!”

Ordinarily, Joanna did not have the quick temper of Lady Alinor, but in the last weeks she had endured too much. All at once it seemed as if all her torments were her husband’s faultthe weeks of fear, the stunned frozen horror, the nights and days of weeping. Her immediate reaction was a rage that rendered her speechless and drove from her mind completely the fact that the object of all her misery was before her eyes. She did, indeed, throw down the knife. She   threw it at Geoffrey! Fortunately, her aim was erratic because Sir Léon’s body prevented her from a straight cast. She missed, which was just as well because Geoffrey was still much too feeble and sore to dodge.

“Am I a fool?” she gasped, tumbling from the horse and fronting her husband furiously. “You know what Isabella’s offer was. Did you think I would ride right into the lion’s mouth so that I and you and the money I brought could be swallowed and then you could be disgorged, dead, and another double ransom collected?”

“I would not!” Sir Léon gasped. “Nor any of mine. Why should you think me so treacherous a cur?”

“Joanna!” Geoffrey exclaimed, appalled. “Enough! Whatever you feared, it must now be plain to you that no treachery is intended. Was it needful to say aloud such thoughts?” He turned his head to Sir Guy, who had ridden back as soon as he saw Joanna move and had dismounted when he saw Geoffrey’s face in case he should need support. “Sir Guy, please unbind Sir Léon and take my wife up before you into the keep.”

Sir Guy turned pale. He was not Geoffrey’s man but Alinor’s and thus Joanna’s. Perhaps in most other families that would be a technicality not worth considering; the husband would be the master. This was not true for the ladies of Roselynde. Ian and Alinor were most scrupulous not to give conflicting orders, even when they were quarreling, nor had the situation ever arisen between Joanna and Geoffrey previously.

“My lord,” he pleaded, “I”

In the few moments that had passed, Joanna had really taken in Geoffrey’s appearance. Moreover, no one had ridden out of the keep to overwhelm them when she dismounted and removed all threat from Sir Léon. What was more, the man himself had not made any attempt to find safety behind his own walls. Even bound as he was, he could have kicked the mare into motion. He seemed far more interested in refuting Joanna’s accusation than in taking advantage of a situation in which he plainly held the upper hand.   “Yes, free him,” Joanna concurred, thus lifting Sir Guy from the horns of the dilemma upon which he had been painfully perched. “I beg your pardon, Sir Leon,” she continued, “I hope you understand that a woman must take precautions a man might scorn to take.”

Joanna did not, however, turn her head toward him. Her eyes remained fixed upon Geoffrey, and she moved forward slowly, as if a sudden gesture on her part might topple him from his feet. Her soft gray eyes were misty with concern.

“How badly were you hurt?” she breathed.

Geoffrey’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter even as tears of joy rose into his eyes. “Since I am now near well, it does not matter,” he said to reassure her. “I have been well cared for.”

“Will you mount my horse, my lord?” Sir Guy asked, having finished with Sir Léon’s bonds and feeling that Geoffrey should not be on his feet any longer than necessary.

“No,” Geoffrey protested, “that will hurt worse than walking back.”

“There is no need,” Sir Léon said, having also dismounted. “Gilliane will send out a litter and some men to carry it. Sit down here, Lord Geoffrey, and rest.”

“It is not necessary,” Geoffrey insisted.

“Please, Geoffrey,” Joanna begged.

He turned on her, laughing. “That is a fine turnabout. A minute since, you threw your knife at my head. It was you and your crazy suspicions that dragged me out here. Now, of a sudden, you fear for my welfare.”

Geoffrey teased and laughed because if he did not laugh and tease he would fall into Joanna’s arms, weeping. His surprise past, there was such joy in him, such relief, that he did not know how to contain it. Yet it was too great a thing to display before others. Geoffrey denied his need for help only because his need to be alone with Joanna made nothing of his pain and weakness. All he could think was that it would take too long for a litter to be brought; that if he walked at once he would be sooner safe in her arms.

“If you will each give me an arm,” he said, glancing at   Sir Léon and Sir Guy, “I will be at rest quicker and easier than any other way. Joanna, do not fret me further by arguing. Mount up and lead in the men.”

Geoffrey did not look at Joanna. His eyes were blurring anyway. The excitement, which had given him that abnormal burst of strength had also drained him abnormally. Joanna stared after her husband. Was that all the greeting she was to havefirst insults and then laughter? Rage and relief, joy and anxiety, were suddenly rolled together even more confusingly than before by another emotion which had touched Joanna only once previously and then very briefly. When she asked of his health he had said, very quicklytoo quickly?that he had been well cared for. Just how well had he been cared for by Lady Gilliane? Well enough so that his wife’s arrival was no pleasant surprise? Joanna gestured sharply and Knud came down from his mount to lift her to the mare’s saddle.

As she rode past, Geoffrey did not even glance up at her. Joanna burned, too caught up in her own imaginings to think he might be too tired to lift his head or so near fainting he did not hear the horses. She entered the keep, slid down from the Mare into Knud’s hands, and turned to look more closely at Sir Léon’s wife. Lady Gilliane had not a glance for her either. She was staring outward with tear-filled eyes toward the three oncoming men. It never occurred to Joanna that the tears might have been to welcome her own husband. She weeps to lose a lover, Joanna thought, and tossed her head.