Juliana Garnett (32 page)

Then Thurston dealt another blow by refusing to turn over the keys to his former ward’s keeps. Citing civil cases, the crafty earl filed claims against Annice for debts. Bound by his oath to the king’s men not to assault Stoneham Castle, Rolf found himself in the untenable position of being forced to petition an absent king for justice. He knew, even when he wrote, that John would not stir himself to a swift reply. His only recourse would be to go to John, but that would leave Dragonwyck undefended for too long.

Caught between the devil at home and the devil in France, Rolf chose the former. This devil he could fight. The king was another matter.

Of late there was enough to do hearing cases brought before him to be judged. Mornings were spent in the hall, where claims and pleas were presented by the people of his land.

“Milord,” Guy said wearily one afternoon when shadows finally fell on the last petitioner of the day, “times are even more perilous now than before.”

“Aye.” Rolf stared thoughtfully at Bordet as the dog sifted lazily through the rushes for any forgotten tidbits from a former meal. Though the mastiff still limped, he was regaining his strength rapidly, as was Sir Guy. He turned to look at his knight. “Matters worsen.”

“Depredations by dishonest sheriffs have increased tenfold,” Guy muttered. “Now convicted felons lose their land and chattels, not to the mesne lord to whom it ought to revert, but to the crown by office of the sheriff who collected it. Organized rule has all but unraveled.”

“Free men are being arrested, ejected from their lands, imprisoned, and even exiled and outlawed without legal warrant or a fair trial,” Rolf observed heavily. “At the mere whim of the king, men are forbidden to enter or leave the realm. Those barons he favors or wants to appease receive licenses to impose arbitrary taxes on their subtenants without regard to the limits imposed by feudal custom.”

“Yet still you hold to your oath of fealty,” Guy said after a long span of silence.

Rolf looked up with a scowl. “Yea, though ’tis not of my choosing. I have never betrayed an oath.”

“P’raps God would forgive breaking this oath,” Guy muttered, and Rolf surged to his feet.

“Are you saying I should join the rebels, Sir Guy?” Rolf demanded harshly. “Speak plainly. I would not have you serve a baron whose sworn oath repulses you.”

Rising also, Guy faced him without flinching. “Nay. I would serve you whether you are with the king or against him. My faith is placed in you, milord.”

“Then cease testing it,” Rolf replied after a moment.

“Nay, lord, I do not mean to test your faith, only the man in whom it is placed. The king cannot continue, or the entire realm will be in revolt.”

“Do you not think I know that?” Rolf moved to the high table to pour himself some wine. He waved away the ready hand of a squire and poured a liberal amount into his cup. “It weighs most heavily on me that our sworn king views all of England as an open coffer for greedy men and monarch.” He drained his wine and poured another cup. “Yet I must remain sworn to him, in faith, though I detest the man as well as his rule.”

The last was said softly, almost to himself, but Guy heard. He took a limping step toward Rolf. “Is there nothing we can do, save open rebellion?”

After a moment Rolf said slowly, “There is Stephen Langton.”

“The Archbishop …”

“He met John at Winchester last July. Stephen seeks fulfillment of the promise John made as a condition of his absolution—that the rights of
all
men should be restored. Lesser men as well as higher would benefit.” Rolf sighed heavily. “But Stephen knows that this aim can be gained only with the aid of the barons. Those men aloof from the northern rebels—the earls of Salisbury, Chester, Albemarle, Warren—would be the most logical choices. And the men of high standing in the official class, such as the heads of
Aubigny, Vipont, De Lucy, and Basset would be of great service also.”

“Do not forget,” Guy muttered dryly, “that two barons of secondary rank have already proved themselves traitors and cowards.”

“Eustace de Vesci and Robert FitzWalter.” Rolf nodded. “Nay, I have not forgot. Nor has the king, I am certain.”

“Yet they have received pardon and restoration of their lands. Is John mad?”

“As a fox. They are barons, yea, but who among the lower classes would look to them for guidance?” Rolf frowned, his hand curling tightly around the stem of his wine cup. “Langton has brought into light an old forgotten charter of King Henry the First. He proposes that all the barons present it to John as a basis of action.”

“A charter?” Guy’s face lit with interest. “What charter is this, milord?”

Rolf hesitated. To reveal information might be dangerous should Guy be a traitor. Yet what better way to discover his true motives than to offer information that would not be fatal if it were known?

“A most interesting charter that regulates relations between tenants-in-chief and the crown. Langton believes that this charter may open the way to wider reforms and help abolish unjust oppression. It would affect the nation as a whole, not just the barons.”

“A charter giving freedoms to all?” Guy repeated slowly. “ ’Tis unheard of.”

“Nay, Guy. King Henry swore to it, though in truth, he meant not the lower classes, but the higher. Yet it bears merit, I think. Why not? Free men are oppressed just as knights, and even earls. We are all repressed in these times. Would you not welcome a charter securing your rights before the king? It would render John powerless to steal.” A satisfied smile curved Rolf’s mouth at the mere thought. “Yea, and what a sight that would be, a king with limited powers.…”

“The king will never sign such a charter,” Guy said flatly. “He would fight to the last breath.”

Rolf stared down into his empty wine cup. “I fear the
same. Yet he is alienating even his loyal barons with this latest scutage he imposed.”

In May, John had issued writs for the collection of a scutage of three marks per fee from all tenants-in-chief, royal demesnes, vacant bishoprics, lands in royal wardship, and escheats. For those fighting with him, the scutage, as normal, was ordered by royal warrant to be paid. The northern barons who had refused to serve John now refused to pay him, contending with some precedent that they were exempt. Because of their tenure, they would not fight on foreign soil; they then claimed that this tenure also absolved them from payment in lieu of service in John’s army. It did not absolve them in John’s eyes.

Nor did it endear the king to his barons.

A patch of sunlight streaming through the high window fell over Rolf’s face, warming his cheek. He turned toward the light, blinking against the glare. Brisk summer days would soon wane, and in their aftermath would follow the cold winds of upheaval. He could feel it, as one felt the changing of the seasons.

Yet he could not break his oath, though it might yet cost him what he held most dear. Thurston of Seabrook still held Justin, and the king delayed negotiations for the boys safe return. If he broke oath with John, he might lose Justin forever. Could he risk that? Nay, he knew even as the thought formed that he could not. ’Twas not just for the sake of his oath that he held to the king—’twas for the hope that he would someday retrieve his son.

It didn’t help to realize that John was well aware of the powerful lure he held above Rolf’s head. As long as Justin was held hostage, so was the Lord of Dragonwyck.

Annice came upon Rolf in the hall. He was seated on a stool near the fire, light from a high window dancing on the deft motion of his dagger moving over a length of wood. She stood there a moment, watching. The shape of a horse was clear, with flowing mane and tail, though the legs were yet to be defined. She did not have to ask for whom the figure was being carved.

He did not look up when she dragged a stool near but kept whittling at the wood. Tiny chips fell to a growing pile between his feet. Light gleamed in his thick blond hair as he kept his head bent to his task. Annice seated herself and put her hands on her knees.

“Do you put the Seabrook device on it for him?” she asked softly, and Rolf glanced up at her.

“Yea. ’Twas his request. He wishes his mother’s arms as well as mine. If ever I see him again, he shall have both.”

After several minutes of silent watching as he worked, Annice murmured, “I think you wise to heed the king’s wishes in this. It would only be more trouble if you yielded to the impulse to storm Stoneham’s walls.”

Rolf flung her a bitter glance. “Yea, I am become most wise in my dotage, I think.” He slashed at the wood with his dagger, gouging a deep gash in the horse’s tail. Tightly gripping the wood figure, he took a quick breath. His knuckles were white; frustration carved deep furrows in his face. “Or p’raps I have only grown cowardly of late. Not long hence I would have done more than sit by a cozy fire and wait for permission from the king to act. Yea, I would have done as a man, and gathered my troops to assault Stoneham and take it apart stone by stone to retrieve my son.” White lines formed around his mouth, and he took another harsh breath.

“You would do Justin little good hanging from the king’s gibbet, I think,” Annice said. “Nor would it aid him to have his birthright revert to the crown at John’s pleasure. Is that what you wish?”

Flinging the wooden horse from him, Rolf surged to his feet. “Nay! What I wish is to
act
, not sit in my hall like a statue and wait for others to arrange my life.” He turned abruptly away and raked a hand through his hair. Staring up at the zodiac signs painted on the high ceiling beams, he muttered, “Mayhap I will join the king in France. Fighting Philip would ease the tedium of waiting.”

Standing to face him, Annice tried not to flinch from his rage. She understood it. Moreover, she felt the same frustration herself. But she knew—as he did—that to act foolishly would only undo all that they had tried to do.

After a moment she took a deep breath and said, “P’raps I should go to Thurston myself to negotiate for Justin’s release. If I gave him some of the dower lands he covets, he might—”

Rolf whirled around. He grasped her by the shoulders. His fingers bit deeply into her skin until she gasped. “Do not even think it for an instant,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I will not risk you as well as my son with that viper!”

“ ’Tis obvious John will not act,” she said as she eased from his painful grip. “Our only recourse is to negotiate with Seabrook by offering a prize more tempting than your suffering.”

Rolf’s laugh was hollow. “ ’Twould have to be all of England, France, and p’raps Spain to tempt Seabrook into yielding that pleasure.”

He looked away from her, and light spangled his lashes like fine gold dust, making him blink. Annice lifted her hand to gently touch his cheek. His gaze shifted back to her, eyes an anguished green. It was like a dagger blade piercing her heart, to see his pain and not be able to alleviate it.

“My sweet love,” she murmured as she stroked his bearded jaw, “if it were in my power, I would yield all of England to Thurston for your son. Yea, and heaven, too, if it would ease you.”

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “If you wish to ease me, sweeting, do not even suggest risking yourself. I have enough to bear now without losing you as well.”

It was the closest he had come to an open admission of love. Never had he said he loved her, though she thought he viewed her as more than a chattel. She took as evidence the sweet words he whispered in her ear, and the small kindnesses he gave without prompting. Gifts appeared as if by magic upon her chair, or wrapped in silk mantles draped on the bed. Thoughtful things—silver combs and brushes, a huge globe of amber with an insect trapped for all eternity in its translucent depths, silk ribbons for her hair, and even a necklace wrought of intricate gold with sapphire stones.

Yea, though he had not said the words, his actions bore
proof of his sentiments. There were moments, in the gray shadows of early morning, when she still faced her doubts, but those times were few.

Turning into his embrace, Annice drew a shaky breath as he held her close. It was too strangling, this love for a man. It washed over her in smothering folds at times, threatening to drown her common sense with fear for him. Yet she would not change it if she could. Instead, she clung to her love for him as if to ward off evil. Surely, nothing too fearful would happen to her once she had finally found true love.

Tears stung her eyes and filled her throat, but before she yielded to them, something cold and wet nudged her side. She jerked away from Rolf, gasping, then looked down and saw the source. Bordet nuzzled her again with his wet nose. She pulled away from Rolf and bent to pet the dog.

Rolf stared at them with a look of surprise. “He comes to you now?”

She looked up, smiling. “Yea. Since I cared for him while he was injured, he seems to have taken a liking to me.” She stroked Bordet’s silky ears. “After all,” she murmured, “he was wounded in an attack on Thurston’s men when they were abducting me.”

For a moment Rolf was silent. Then he said, “I should not be surprised, I suppose. You have managed to enchant everyone else in my keep. Why not a poor dumb creature?”

“Are you angry with me?” Annice stood up to face him. “Would you prefer that the dog hate me?”

“Nay. Don’t be foolish. It’s just … he has never cared for any other person before.” He smiled faintly. Then he put a hand out to touch her cheek in a light caress. “It never occurred to me that even a dog would fall under your spell, sweet enchantress.”

Annice said, “More like the dog was attempting to bite the intruders, not save me in particular. I just happened to be there when he went for the throat of one of my captors.”

“And he missed?” Rolf looked down at the huge mastiff. “I’ve never known him to fail before.”

“Nay, I did not say he missed. If another had not used his sword, the man would have had his throat torn out. Bordet failed only because of greater force.”

As if sensing they were discussing him, the dog looked from one to the other, ears pricked forward. Then he yawned hugely and ambled away, his gait still slightly askew. Rolf laughed.