Love Everlasting (39 page)

“I have considered that possibility,” Royce
said. “I have decided that I must talk with King Henry before
Kenric is tried and sentenced. I will see to it that Kenric keeps
his silence.”

“Thank you. I won’t ask how you’ll silence
him. I only beg you to return to me as soon as you can.”

“You know I will,” he said.

She took a breath and smiled at him, as if to
banish the last of her worries.

“Well, my lord, shall we ride through the
forest and decide how much work will be needed to restore it?”

“Years will be needed,” Royce said. “Kenric
and his friends have no appreciation of how long it takes to grow a
tree.”

They rode out of bright sunshine into the
soft shade of new leaves. Royce scowled to see the damage where
large old trees had been cut down to make the battering ram and the
temporary bridge for the moat. Younger, smaller growth was gone,
too, for use in campfires and for the protective shelter over the
battering ram.

“Your foresters will be busy, my lord,”
Timothy remarked. “But a lot of the refuse I see here can be used
for fuel. After it’s all cleared away, with more sunlight reaching
the ground new trees will surely grow quickly.”

“Continue to talk like that, Tim, and I’ll
make you a forester, instead of knighting you,” Royce teased
him.

“Oh, no, my lord,” Timothy responded with a
laugh. “I want to be a knight, and one of your agents.”

A mile or two into the forest they reached an
untouched open spot where the moss grew green and lush and a few
tiny wildflowers blossomed in bright blue. There they dismounted
and Julianna knelt to drink from a little stream while Timothy held
the horses’ reins.

“How peaceful it is,” Julianna murmured.
“Here, so deep in the quiet woods it’s difficult to recall what
warfare can do.” She smiled when Royce slipped an arm around her
waist and drew her closer.

“All the death and destruction,” he said,
“only reminds me how precious life is, and how fortunate I am to
have you.”

He lowered his mouth to hers for a long,
tender kiss that was interrupted by a sudden gasp from Timothy.
Royce turned to the sound, setting Julianna behind him, for he knew
danger when he heard it approaching.

Timothy lay on the moss, blood seeping from
his left side. Next to him stood Kenric with a bloody sword in one
hand.

“Oh, no - Timothy!” Julianna cried.

Before Royce could stop her, she rushed away
from his protection to kneel beside the squire. Kenric grabbed the
hand she reached toward Timothy and pulled her to her feet.

“Aunt Julianna,” Kenric said, laughing at
her, “you are so predictable. I knew you’d want to help a wounded
boy, just as you tried to help Marie. You’ll be no more use to him
than you were to her.”

“Let me go!” Julianna cried. “I can see it’s
not too late for Timothy. Let me bind up his wound.”

“Do you think I care if he dies?” Kenric
asked.

“What do you want?” Royce demanded. Though
his heart was cold with fear for Julianna’s life, still he faced
Kenric with his trusty sword in hand and his manner as commanding
as he could make it. Nor were his thoughts entirely befuddled, for
he noted that Kenric wore the wool tunic and hose he’d been allowed
after having been divested of his chainmail on the day the siege
was lifted.

“What do you think I want?” Kenric snarled at
him. “I want a safe escape to France.”

“Let Julianna go and we will discuss the
matter.”

“Not likely!” Kenric’s lips drew back in a
feral grin. “I know you care nothing for your wife, but if you want
your squire to live you won’t waste time arguing with me. I want
your horse, and a long head start for the coast.”

“You’ll never reach the coast,” Royce
said.

“Yes, I will. Put down your sword and tie
Julianna’s hands behind her back. Use this.” From under his cloak
Kenric produced a length of hide rope. “Appropriate, don’t you
think? It’s the same rope that bound my wrists when I left Wortham
a few hours ago.” He tossed the rope onto the moss between himself
and Royce.

“What happened?” Royce asked, not moving, not
laying his sword aside. And not trusting Kenric for an instant.
“How did you get free of your guards?”

“It was easy,” Kenric boasted. “I said I
needed to relieve myself most urgently. The men-at-arms who were
guarding me let me dismount and only one of the men escorted me
into some bushes. Of course, he had to untie my hands so I could
unfasten my hose. When he looked away, I suppose to grant me a
moment of privacy, I seized his sword and killed him before he
could raise the alarm.”

“You are claiming that you escaped from
Cadwallon’s entire army?” Royce exclaimed. “I don’t believe
it.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention there was a
battle?” Kenric’s face radiated vicious pleasure. “Just as I freed
myself, a large troop of Lord Othmar’s men appeared. They had
banded together after you dismissed them, and they quickly freed
both Othmar and Edmund. I regret to inform you, Royce, that your
friend, Cadwallon, is dead. So are your son and son-in-law. Othmar
and Edmund have fled to Scotland for safety. I prefer France.”

“No!” Julianna cried, fighting Kenric’s hold
on her arm, which he had bent up behind her back. “You can’t have
killed all three of them.”

“Not I,” Kenric said. “Lord Othmar’s men did
the killing. Surprise in such matters is so important, don’t you
think? Now, Royce, I am growing impatient. Pick up the rope and
when I turn Julianna around, tie her wrists. Unless, of course, you
want to see her die like your squire.”

Royce looked into Julianna’s eyes, not daring
to offer the slightest hint as to what he planned to do, lest
Kenric see and understand. As Kenric had said, surprise was useful.
He prayed that Julianna would see the love in his gaze, and more
importantly at the moment, that she’d be prepared for any move he
might make. He was sure she knew that he’d never allow Kenric to
take her away from him.

Still with his sword in his right hand, Royce
bent and reached toward the rope.

“Put the sword down,” Kenric ordered.

From his bent-over position Royce saw how
Kenric shifted his feet, and he saw Julianna aim a kick at Kenric’s
ankle, connecting so hard that Kenric moved again. Blessed,
quick-thinking Julianna! In the instant when his opponent was off
guard, his attention diverted by Julianna’s kick, Royce swung his
sword in the same treacherous sweep that Kenric had used against
him during their first combat.

The edge of his sword sliced through Kenric’s
leather boot and into his calf. Kenric’s scream of pain ended when
Royce’s second blow nearly cut him in two.

Royce lowered the bloody sword, resting the
tip on the soft, green moss. He hated killing, but he could not
regret ending Kenric’s life. Then Julianna flung her arms around
his neck and held on tight.

“Oh, Royce, I was so afraid he’d kill
you.”

“I was sure he’d kill you.” Royce pressed his
face against her braided hair.

“Then you saved both of us,” she said.

She clung to him for only a few moments
before Timothy groaned. Julianna moved quickly, and
characteristically. Freeing herself, she lifted her skirt high and
indicated her linen shift.

“Royce, my hands are shaking too badly for me
to tear it,” she said. “If you will pull off enough fabric for a
bandage, I will see to Timothy’s wound.”

His hands were shaking, too. In fact, his
knees were shaking. They bent far too easily. He knelt on the moss
and grasped the bottom of Julianna’s shift. Then he looked up at
her.

“I almost lost you,” he said.

“But you didn’t. You rescued me.”

“Only with your help. Your kick distracted
Kenric just long enough.”

“Royce, tear my shift, please. Be quick about
it. Poor Timothy needs a bandage.”

“No wonder the castle folk love you.” He gave
a hard yank on the shift and a foot or so of linen came apart in
his hands. “This is how you were during the siege, isn’t it? Calm
and practical and always thinking of others, not yourself.”

“Not true.” She bent to kiss his forehead. “I
thought only of you.”

With the bandaged Timothy riding pillion
behind Royce, and Julianna mounted and holding the reins of the
squire’s horse, they started back to the castle. They hadn’t even
left the little clearing when they encountered another
interruption.

“I see I am too late,” Cadwallon said,
appearing out of the trees with several men-at-arms. “We’ve been
trailing Kenric.”

“He found us.” A quick motion of Royce’s head
indicated the remains of Kenric, covered with his own cloak until
someone from the castle came to remove the body. “He told us there
was a battle, that Othmar and Edmund escaped, and that you and all
the others were killed.”

“Kenric never could tell the truth,”
Cadwallon responded with one of his lazy grins. “He is the only
prisoner who got away, and the rather stupid man-at-arms set to
guard him was the only person killed. Arden is safe and on his way
home to Bowen Manor. Braedon is also unhurt. He is taking the rest
of the captives to Northampton. We agreed that I should come to
warn you about Kenric. But I see there’s no need for a warning.
What, exactly, happened here?”

“Cadwallon,” Julianna interrupted, “I am very
glad to see you alive, but Timothy needs care. You and Royce can
talk at the castle. Ride there with us and stay the night.”

“Yes, do,” Royce added. “I’ll write a report
about Kenric’s death for you to carry to King Henry. I will also
inform him that I intend to remain at Wortham for some months and,
if you are willing, I’ll suggest you as my temporary replacement.
Lastly, I will write a formal invitation to Janet. Unless you would
prefer to extend the invitation?” he said, looking at Julianna.

“An invitation for what?” Cadwallon asked.
Falling in beside Royce, he offered one big hand to steady Timothy
and keep him upright as they rode out of the forest and through
Wortham village.

“We would like you and Janet to visit Wortham
in September,” Julianna said, “to serve as godparents to our child.
If Janet could be here for the birth, I’d be most grateful. You may
bring Alexander and Sybilla and your new baby, too.”

“I think I can honestly say,” Cadwallon told
her, “that Janet will be pleased to accept. In fact, I don’t think
you could keep her away.”

* * * * *

With so much news to convey to the king and
to Janet, Cadwallon stayed only the one night. In early morning
Royce and Julianna stood at the top of the keep stairway to watch
him ride out of the bailey.

“Perhaps it’s just as well I had to kill
Kenric,” Royce murmured into his wife’s ear. “Since yesterday, you
and I and King Louis of France are the only living souls who know
the true story of the death of King William Rufus. I can’t see that
telling King Henry will do any good now that everyone who was
involved in the murder is dead. Louis isn’t likely to talk. If he
did, he’d have to explain how he knows, and that would involve
naming some of his spies.

“Nor do I see any point in revealing how you
were forced to spy for Kenric and Deane,” Royce continued. “I know
your heart was never a traitor to King Henry. I promise to remain
silent if you will, my love.”

“Oh, you may be certain of that, my lord,”
Julianna said, laughing freely at last, with every shadow that had
hung over her life banished by the man she loved. “Not a word will
ever pass my lips.”

Henry I is one of my favorite English kings.
In a ferocious age he detested what he called “unnecessary
bloodshed.” He was known to his contemporaries as Henry Beauclerc,
or Henry the Lawgiver, for his determination to establish the rule
of law in England and Normandy.

Henry was remarkably attractive to women and
was rumored to have fathered more than one hundred illegitimate
offspring. He acknowledged them and arranged good marriages for
most of them, in the same way that Queen Victoria later married her
children off to rulers all over Europe. Henry’s eldest legitimate
daughter, Matilda, was married to the Holy Roman Emperor, and his
illegitimate daughter, Sybilla, wed Alexander, king of the Scots.
During Henry’s reign, England and Scotland were at peace.

The death of Henry’s older brother, King
William Rufus, remains a fascinating mystery. Although Wat Tyler
was blamed, too many questions are unanswered, which leaves the
incident open for modern authors to interpret the event as they
choose.

Unfortunately for William, he lived in a time
when the only people who wrote history were clergymen. Thus, he
became the victim of bad publicity.

William was a homosexual, whose open affairs
offended many. He was also an outspoken enemy of the Church, who
repeatedly tried to tax Church lands and who almost never attended
Holy Mass. Because of his so-called pagan sympathies, it has been
suggested that he was sacrificed, or offered himself as a
sacrifice, in a pagan ritual conducted near an oak tree in the New
Forest which, despite its name, is actually ancient.

It is possible that an outraged relative of
one of his young lovers sought vengeance. Or a discarded lover
could have killed him. As I suggest in this story, William’s habit
of confiscating the lands of people he didn’t like may have led
someone to kill the king before he could get his hands on yet more
land. Or, perhaps, someone grew weary of paying the exorbitant
taxes that William imposed and put into his own purse, for his own
extravagant use.

As for Queen Adelicia, historically her
character is depicted as I have shown her, kind-hearted, sweet, and
gentle. Her much older husband apparently did care for her, though
she never gave him the heir he so desperately needed.