Love Everlasting (27 page)

“Uh, my lady,” Sir William began, but
Julianna spoke across his stammering protest.

“Cadwallon, I know you have visited here in
the past, so I assume you know the castle well. Choose whichever
guestroom you want, and tell your squires to demand hot water and
candles and whatever else you require for your comfort. Michael,
feel free to do the same. Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have
a feeling that you men will prefer an evening to yourselves. Sir
William, I will speak with you and your good wife in the morning,”
she added.

Not waiting to hear his response, Julianna
headed for the stairs. As she crossed the great hall, she noticed a
serving girl who appeared to be in her middle teens, not pretty,
but with an intelligent face, who was watching her with deep
interest. Intrigued by the girl’s neat appearance when everything
around her was so dismally untidy, Julianna paused.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Etta, my lady.” The girl bobbed an awkward
curtsey.

“Please show me to the lord’s chamber,”
Julianna said. “The woman who was my personal servant died
recently, so I have no one to attend me and I require a new maid.
If you prove to be quick and loyal, I may choose you for the
position.”

“Yes, my lady. I would like that very much,
my lady. This way, my lady.” Etta seized a small oil lamp to light
the way and pointed to the stairs.

“A little less enthusiasm, if you please,”
Julianna said, hiding a smile. “You need not say ‘my lady’ with
every remark you make.”

“No, my lady. I mean, yes, my lady. I mean,
yes,” Etta said, gurgling with nervous laughter. “Just, yes.”

The lord’s chamber, located at the very top
of the tower keep as Julianna expected, was a large room. Two pairs
of windows were set into the thick stone walls at right angles to
each other, so one corner of the room would be bright during the
daylight hours. Wooden shutters were fastened tight over the
windows to keep out the winter chill.

Julianna could not imagine what the room
would be like without that protection, for it was freezing cold. It
was also completely empty. The light from the oil lamp in Etta’s
hand revealed not a single tapestry on the wall, not a stick of
furniture, not a candelabra or a charcoal brazier for heat. Just
grey stone walls and a bare wooden floor.

“We keep it clean,” Etta said, looking
around, “in case Lord Royce should return unexpectedly. Of course,
he takes his furniture with him when he travels.”

“Of course,” Julianna said softly. “Is there
a guest room with a bed ready, that I could use just for tonight?”
She was so very tired that she couldn’t face the prospect of
waiting until her belongings were unpacked from the baggage carts,
carried upstairs to the Lord’s room, and the frame of her own bed
was hammered and bolted together.

“Well,” said Etta, “Lady Catherine’s old room
is on the next level below this. After she married, Lord Royce
ordered a bed set up in there, so the chamber wouldn’t look quite
so bare.”

“That will do nicely,” Julianna said. It took
her a moment to remember that Lady Catherine was Royce’s daughter,
who had acted as his chatelaine until her marriage during the
previous summer. “She married Lord Braedon, didn’t she?”

“Yes, my lady.” Etta’s smile was wistful. “He
is such a handsome knight, and kindhearted, too. And very brave.
King Henry granted him Sutton Castle for his bravery, and he and
Lady Catherine live there now.

“And then, there’s Lord Arden, who is Lord
Royce’s son,” Etta continued, leading the way out of the lord’s
chamber and back down the stairs. “He lives at Bowen Manor and he
married Lady Margaret of Sutton. King Henry took Sutton away from
Lady Margaret’s father because he was a traitor. Later, the king
gave the castle to Lord Braedon.”

During the next two hours, while Etta oversaw
the lighting of three braziers to heat Catherine’s former
bedchamber, and located the wooden chest containing Julianna’s
trousseau of linens, so she could spread sheets and quilts on the
bed, and nagged at the other servants to hasten with the tub and
hot water for Julianna’s bath, she kept up a cheerful chatter about
the baron of Wortham and his family that Julianna found both
fascinating and instructive.

Royce had not told his new wife very much
about his childrens’ lives, so Julianna listened avidly to the tale
of Arden’s years in the Holy Land and how he returned to Bowen
Manor just in time to save Lady Margaret from her treacherous
father’s plan to wed her to an old man. This lurid story was
followed by a detailed and highly colored account of Braedon’s
wooing of Lady Catherine during a grand tournament that was held at
Wortham Castle.

By the time Julianna had bathed, eaten, and
tucked herself between her own nicely warmed, lavender-scented
sheets, she had decided to make Etta her new maidservant. She’d
tell the girl so on the morrow, when she was rested enough to be
firm and specific about what she expected from a maid. She’d deal
with Lady Alice then, too, after a good night’s sleep. It was odd
how weary she was; she usually possessed more vitality, even at the
end of a long journey.

After she sent Etta away Julianna discovered
that she couldn’t sleep in spite of being tired. She lay awake for
several hours, thinking of the many duties that awaited her, and
trying not to think about how badly she wanted Royce beside
her.

* * * * *

Cadwallon stayed at Wortham less than a week.
When he rejoined the court at Norwich, he carried a written report
from Michael to Royce. He delivered the document immediately upon
his arrival. The two old friends met in the room that had been
Michael’s, which Royce was currently using as his office.

Royce glanced at his secretary’s report and
found nothing unexpected in it. Nor was he surprised to hear
Cadwallon’s own pithy, outspoken comments on the situation at
Wortham.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
sending your wife away so rudely, but you were right about one
thing,” Cadwallon said. “Wortham is in sore need of a capable
chatelaine. Royce, I swear to you, I’ve never seen the place
looking so disreputable. It’s even worse than when I was there in
November. The guest rooms are cold and dirty, the linens are
unaired. The great hall is disgusting. And the food! I could barely
swallow the greasy meat, the cheese was moldy, and the bread was
hard as a rock. I still think you should have kept Julianna here
with you, but she’ll soon set the castle to rights. She has begun
already. Alice is so distracted with her children that she gladly
handed over the chatelaine’s keys.”

“All of that is just what I expected,” Royce
said coldly. “Now, will you kindly warn your wife to cease scolding
me? She is making my life a misery.”

“Has she been scolding?” Cadwallon asked with
a knowing grin. “I suppose that means the morning sickness has
ended and Janet is her usual energetic self again. I’ll not sleep
much for the next few nights. Not that I mind.”

“She has accused me of cruelty for sending
Julianna to Wortham when I could not go with her, to introduce her
properly as the new lady of the castle.”

“You? Cruel? Actually, in this case, you
are.” Cadwallon began to laugh, but he sobered when he looked at
Royce’s face. “Janet has been a bit snappish, has she? Give me a
few long winter nights with her and she’ll settle down and be more
polite.”

Royce, who ached most uncomfortably for a few
long winter nights with his own wife, made no reply. Beset by guilt
because in his heart he knew Cadwallon was right about his cruelty
to Julianna, he unfolded Michael’s report again and fixed his gaze
on it. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence Cadwallon
excused himself and left the room.

Lent began early that year and Royce found
himself in tune with strict fasting and abstinence from earthly
pleasures. The weather also suited his ascetic mood, for every day
brought more cold rain or damp snow. Because of the foul weather,
and because of King Henry’s conviction that Norwich was a safe
place for his queen so long as Royce and Lord Cortland were
protecting her, the king and his court lingered there.

Royce had work that ought to have kept his
thoughts occupied. He interviewed the man who had been captured at
the castle gate in the midst of the Twelfth Night celebrations and
who had remained confined in the dungeon since then. Neither Royce,
with his persistent questions, nor Lord Cortland’s somewhat more
brutal methods succeeded in extracting any useful information from
the prisoner.

“Let him go,” Royce suggested to Cortland
after allowing a few days for the man to recover. “I’ll set two of
my agents to watch him and report on his movements.”

Cortland grudgingly agreed. The man was freed
and promptly headed north. Then he suddenly disappeared, leaving no
trace save for a report of a small boat seen heading out to
sea.

Vanished like fog in bright sunlight, Royce
thought when his agents came to him in great frustration. Rather
like his plan to prove Julianna’s loyalty. His own frustration
mounting, he gave his men another assignment and sent them
away.

Though Royce was becoming ever more restless,
the king’s clerics were pleased to remain at Norwich. Staying in
one location made their work easier. Henry was an industrious king
and he kept his scribes busy copying his voluminous correspondence
with other rulers, with important clergymen, and with Pope
Callixtus II in Rome, for it behoved him to remain on good terms
with the pontif.

Wherever he was in his realm, each day King
Henry set aside several hours during which he listened to petitions
from common folk as well as from nobles. He would judge disputes,
or decide on the sometimes difficult question of making royal
grants of land or awarding charters to towns, so they could
incorporate. He also arranged marriages for his royal wards who
were of age, and approved marriages between great noble houses,
always taking care that no single house became powerful enough to
challenge him.

Royce’s duty required him to attend these
audiences and to assure the king’s safety during them. Usually, he
did not begrudge the hours he spent standing behind Henry’s chair,
for he almost always came away with a fresh morsel of useful
information or a clue as to where he ought to send his agents to do
a bit of investigating. Yet, as the Christmas court continued Royce
experienced ever greater difficulty keeping his full attention
fixed on what was happening around him. Thoughts of Julianna
intruded too often.

It should not be so, he told himself, angrily
aware that he was much like a lovesick squire who yearned for a
glimpse of his lady’s face. Torn between his duty and ever-mounting
desire, he had to exert all of his willpower to force himself to
remain at his post.

The several hundred people who made up the
royal court could not remain for more than a month or two in the
same location. Just as Royce’s need for action grew well nigh
unbearable and just as Lord Cortland’s muttered complaints about
what so many people were doing to the ever-diminishing food stores
of Norwich Castle began to irritate Royce until he feared he’d
become violent, the chance for relief appeared.

“I have decided to move directly to
Northampton,” King Henry informed Royce at the beginning of the
last week of February. “I’ll make no long stops to visit other
castles along the way. The queen and I will depart from Norwich
this day next week. Send your people to make certain that
Northampton Castle is secure. I want no new attempt made on the
queen’s life.”

Offered such an opportunity Royce took full
advantage of it.

“My lord,” he said, “I will ride to
Northampton, myself. I can leave early tomorrow. In my absence,
Cadwallon and Lord Cortland between them are well able to see to
your security here. I’ll speak to them at once.” He did not mention
his certainty that Lord Cortland would be as delighted as he was to
know when the court would be on the move.

“I approve of your plan,” King Henry said.
“Go, then. I will expect to find Northampton a safe place for
myself and my queen.”

After days of hard riding Royce and his troop
of men-at-arms, squires, and servants, all of whom were carefully
chosen agents reached Northampton during the first week of
March.

As they galloped along the muddy road Royce
noticed tiny yellow primroses in bloom, their brightness
interspersed with the darker shades of wild violets. The occasional
rabbit, out of its burrow and seeking a mate, fled from the hooves
of their horses, while above them birds swooped and darted as they
looked for food. Spring was in the warming air and Royce, as he did
every year, felt a deep longing to be home at Wortham, to oversee
the planting.

Even more, he ached to hold Julianna in his
arms. If only he could set aside the last of his doubts about her.
If only he could be sure she cared for him.

He and his men had only ten days in which to
prepare Northampton Castle before the king and queen arrived on the
Tuesday before Palm Sunday. On the very next day Quentin the baron
of Alney came to pay his required forty days of attendance on the
king during the Easter court.

Quentin brought with him his wife, Fionna,
who was Janet’s older sister. Cadwallon quickly informed Royce that
Janet had set aside her eagerness to return to Devon and the
comforts of their castle of Haverford in favor of remaining at
court.

“Janet says she wants Fionna with her when
the child is born,” Cadwallon said to Royce and Quentin when the
three of them gathered in Royce’s room. “Which means I am available
for a bit of spying, should you need me.”

“Spying, eh? What’s afoot?” Quentin asked,
his grey eyes sparkling with interest. Tall and dark, with a long,
narrow face and high cheekbones, he more resembled a cold-blooded
warrior than the warmhearted man he actually was. Quentin was the
friend who, seven years earlier, had roused Royce out of his
prolonged grief over the death of Avisa and convinced him to resume
his work as leader of King Henry’s secret agents. Their weeks of
excitement and danger along the Scottish border had restored
Royce’s zest for life as they battled Scottish rebels and as he
watched Quentin and Cadwallon woo and win the sisters who were now
their wives.