Love Everlasting (16 page)

Since their marriage, she had learned how
skillful a lover he was, how he could take her into his arms and
shatter her into a thousand pieces, then gently put her back
together again with tender caresses and kisses sweeter than spiced
and honeyed wine.

Royce was a dependable friend to Janet,
Cadwallon, and to Michael, for whom he had devised a useful purpose
in life after terrible injuries. To all of his other qualities she
added loyalty to the spies who served him.

He was also on excellent terms with the
colorful Captain Piers, whom Julianna suspected was little better
than a pirate. He was kind to children. He possessed a delightful
imagination that was worthy of a Welsh bard.

And he would never, never love her. His heart
was true to his first wife, the woman he had loved so dearly that,
according to court gossip, he had never once in all the years of
their happy marriage been unfaithful to her. He had admitted to
Julianna that he could never care for her as he had cared for
Avisa.

She lifted her head to gaze at him in the dim
light of the swinging oil lamp that was attached to the
bulkhead.

A pure-hearted, noble knight. An honest
spy...with a dishonest wife....

On that disturbing thought, Julianna lowered
her head onto his chest and drifted into sleep.

She wakened to a child’s terrified screaming.
Royce was out of the bunk before Julianna’s eyes were completely
open.

“Sybilla!” Alexander sounded both groggy and
annoyed. “You woke me up.”

“Hush, little girl,” Royce crooned, rocking
her in his arms. “It’s all right. You’re safe. You’ve just had a
bad dream.”

Sybilla continued to sob while Royce found
the chamber pot and sat her on it. Afterward, he handed her to
Julianna.

“What shall I do?” Julianna asked.

“Just hold her. Talk to her. She needs
reassurance. Come on, Alexander, it’s your turn to use the pot,
then I want everyone to go back to sleep.”

Sybilla was wriggling so much that Julianna
feared she’d drop the girl, so she laid her down as she’d seen
Royce do, between her body and the bulkhead. Before she’d pulled
the blanket up to Sybilla’s shoulders, the child stuck her fingers
into her mouth and closed her eyes. Royce bent over Julianna,
reaching for Sybilla.

“Let her stay here,” Julianna whispered.
“Don’t disturb her.”

“Very well.” Royce straightened. “Back to bed
with you, Alexander. I’ll join you, so as not to disturb
Sybilla.”

A short time later all was quiet again,
except for the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the sounds of
wind and water. The oil lamp swayed in the gimbal that held it
securely, and the flame cast a dim light over the cabin and its
occupants.

Royce smiled at Julianna and held out his
hand across the space that separated them. She reached toward him
and their fingers met, interlaced, and held in a firm grip.

“Good night, my dear,” Royce murmured.

Julianna’s heart was too full for speech. She
just squeezed his fingers and smiled at Royce’s answering pressure
on her hand. This time, when she fell asleep, it was with the hazy
thought that perhaps he could learn to care for her after all, just
a little. And, perhaps, if she was very clever, she could find a
way to free herself from the net of lies that imprisoned her, so
she could be a true and honest wife to him.

The storm continued for most of the next day,
tossing the
Daisy
about so violently that several of those
who were sick declared they were ready and willing to die, if only
they could be certain that death would ease their distress.
Finally, in late afternoon, the howling wind and drenching rain
abated and Captain Piers was able to bring his ship into port. By
then, his passengers were too exhausted to do anything but remain
in their bunks and sleep in unaccustomed steadiness.

Royce arranged with Captain Piers for them to
do just that, rather than having to go ashore and find a place to
stay at Yarmouth. After accepting the gratitude of everyone in the
group, Royce then roused them well before dawn.

“It’s a long day’s ride to Norwich,” he told
Julianna, who was washing Sybilla’s face. “I’ve ordered the horses
taken off the ship and exercised, and the men-at-arms have hired
several carts for the baggage. We will leave as soon as everyone is
dressed.”

Royce departed the cabin just as a rather
pale and subdued Janet arrived to collect her children. Both
Alexander and Sybilla leapt upon their mother, to hug and kiss her
with exuberance.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to ride?”
Julianna asked, noting that Janet lacked her usual cheerful
energy.

“I will do anything to get off this ship,”
Janet said. “It will be a long, long time before I return to
Normandy. I just wish we could go home to Devon and avoid all the
Christmas feasting. I cannot bear the thought of rich sauces and
buttery pastries,” she added, her mouth twisting into a grimace of
distaste.

“I’m certain you will feel better once you
are on firm ground,” Julianna said.

“I won’t feel well again for weeks and
weeks,” Janet responded. Her hand rested on her abdomen. “I’ve
started another baby, which means I’ll be sick every morning for
two months or so. Men don’t think about the consequences when they
take their pleasure.”

“Would you deny Cadwallon his conjugal
rights?” Julianna asked, startled at the idea.

“Never.” Janet grinned, looking more like her
fiery self. “What’s more, I’d strangle my dear husband if he denied
my rights. Forgive my complaints; I’m just tired and queasy and
terribly homesick. But then, so is Cadwallon. Julianna, you are a
true friend. I don’t know how to thank you for taking care of my
darlings.”

“Actually,” Julianna said, “it was Royce –”
She didn’t finish the explanation, for Janet rushed out the door in
pursuit of Sybilla.

With everyone else gone, Julianna looked
around the cabin, checking lest she or Royce had left anything
behind.

“Did you sleep in that gown?” demanded Marie
from the doorway. “I suppose I’ll have to unpack something for you
to wear.”

“I see no point in changing,” Julianna
responded. “Just gather your belongings and leave the ship.”

“You cannot ride all the way to Norwich in a
wrinkled and stained dress,” Marie cried.

“You,” Julianna said in a cold and repressive
tone, “will be surprised to learn what I can do. I will see you on
the dock, Marie.”

With a faint smile on her lips Julianna
fastened her warm cloak and walked past her maid, heading for the
ladder and the deck, to say her farewell to Captain Piers. Somehow,
after the last few days, Marie’s status as a daunting obstacle had
diminished. Julianna resolved to send the maid back to Dol as soon
as possible. She would insist so strenuously that Royce would have
to give way.

As Royce had warned, it was a very long ride
to Norwich. The day was cold, with a hint of snow in the air.
Julianna guessed that was why Royce kept pushing them to move
faster, and why he allowed only two brief halts. Perhaps it was
also why he barely spoke to his wife. Julianna noticed that
Cadwallon did not spend much time with Janet, either.

“They think it’s going to snow,” Janet said.
“They want us safe within the walls of Norwich by nightfall. I
don’t think we will be, though; not in mid December, when the days
are so short.”

The snow began in late afternoon. Big, wet
flakes floated lazily down and the sky grew ever darker. They
paused while Cadwallon’s men-at-arms lit torches, and then they
continued. Full darkness had fallen and the road was slippery with
ice and mud by the time they rode through the town gate. Never
having visited the royal castle of Norwich before, Julianna looked
around with great interest.

The outer walls of Norwich enclosed both
castle and town, with an inner wall and a heavily guarded gatehouse
around the castle itself. Early in his reign King Henry had ordered
the original motte and bailey castle rebuilt with white stone from
Normandy, and the new walls gleamed like a ghost castle in the
winter night. For greater security the entrance to the tower keep
was on the second floor. The children bounded up the narrow, icy
steps, while the grownups followed more slowly.

They were expected, for Royce had sent a
messenger ahead at first light. Lord Cortland of Sleaford, who was
the king’s constable in charge of both castle and town, awaited
them in the great hall. A grey-haired, barrel-chested man, he
greeted Royce with cool cordiality. Julianna formed the impression
that he and Royce were not the best of friends. Nor was he
particularly welcoming to Cadwallon.

However, she could not fault the constable’s
polite welcome to her, or to Janet, and he unbent enough to smile
at Sybilla and shake hands with Alexander before he turned the
ladies and the children over to an aide with the order to show them
to their chambers.

While Janet and her maids were organizing
themselves and their piles of baggage, Julianna knelt to bid a
temporary farewell to the children. Alexander bowed over her hand
in a fair approximation of grownup formality. Sybilla flung her
chubby arms around Julianna’s neck and planted a sticky kiss on her
cheek. The maids took the children off and Janet followed, after
promising to meet again at the evening meal. Feeling the need of a
diversion until the mist was gone from her eyes, Julianna allowed
herself a moment to look at the great hall.

It was worthy of a king’s residence, being
three stories tall, with open galleries that ran around the upper
two levels. Julianna assumed the galleries would connect to other
parts of the castle, probably with a confusing warren of corridors,
staircases, and rooms opening into each other that was the usual
plan of large castles.

When she finally reached the single chamber
that she and Royce were to occupy she found that the door opened
directly onto the third floor gallery. She wasn’t fond of heights,
so she stood back from the wooden railing to cast a hasty glance
toward the main level below. It seemed a long way down and the
railing looked remarkably flimsy. With her stomach suddenly more
unsettled than it had been during the storm at sea, she hurried
into the room.

Servants were setting up Royce’s bed and
Marie was supervising the arrangement of the chests and baskets
containing Julianna’s clothes.

“The room is too small,” Marie complained.
“You and Lord Royce will be badly crowded. And I have been
relegated to the servants’ quarters near the kitchens. I’ll have to
climb all those stairs several times a day. I ought to sleep here,
on a pallet on the floor, as other maidservants do. That way, I
could be near when you need me.”

“You will be warmer nearer the kitchens,”
Julianna said in mild response to a suggestion she did not want to
hear. Skirting the heavy wooden bedposts, which were laid out on
the floor until they were needed, she went to open the shutters at
the single window. A gust of icy wind blew into the room and she
hastily reclosed the shutters.

“We’ll be bringing a brazier and some
charcoal, just as soon as we have the bed in place,” said one of
Royce’s men, “but it’s always cold when we’re up so high.”

“With a brazier to heat the room, I could
sleep here comfortably,” Marie persisted.

“No, Marie.” Julianna bit her lip and said no
more. She was sure Marie wanted to be in the same room with her
mistress and Royce so she could repeat to Kenric whatever they said
that she thought would be of interest to him. Julianna knew Royce
was too intelligent to say anything important in front of Marie,
though he might well use the opportunity to convey false
information to Kenric.

Aside from the intrigues woven by Kenric and
Marie, and even by Royce, Julianna had another reason for wanting
the maid out of the bedchamber. She was convinced that Royce would
make no amorous advances to her while Marie was present. She had
heard enough gossip to know that most nobles routinely allowed
their servants to sleep on the floor in their bedchambers, counting
drawn bedcurtains as privacy enough during their most intimate
moments with their wives - or their mistresses.

Not Royce. Perhaps it was the result of years
of spying. Whenever he and Julianna had been in bed together, they
had been alone save for the man-at-arms who stood guard outside the
closed and bolted door.

The men finished with the bedframe and then
secured the ropes that would support the mattress. Marie unfolded a
feather-filled quilt atop the mattress to make it more
comfortable.

“You shouldn’t have sent all your servants
back to Dol or to Craydon,” Marie grumbled. “I should not have to
do all of this work by myself. It’s a job for a lower servant.”

If Julianna hadn’t been so resentful of
Marie’s presence she’d have offered to help. As it was, she stood
by the window and let the complaining maid spread linen sheets and
several warm quilts on the bed, finishing with the feather pillows
that one of Royce’s men pulled from a large basket and tossed at
Marie before he departed from the chamber.

“Why does Lord Royce insist on so many
pillows? No decent man needs such luxury. What does he do with all
of them? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Julianna did not answer. Marie’s tone
suggested that she believed Royce put the pillows to some
unspeakable, thoroughly lascivious use. Julianna knew better. She
had learned that Royce liked to sit up in bed while comfortably
propped against the pillows, and she suspected that when he was
alone, he read important documents in the privacy of his bed.

While Marie continued to fret, one of Royce’s
men came back with the promised brazier and began to set up the
tripod to hold it. A second man brought a scuttle of glowing
charcoal and a basket of more charcoal, as yet unlit. A third man
appeared with a large wooden tub, followed by a procession of men
and women carrying buckets of hot water. Two of Royce’s squires
entered and began searching through his clothing chests.