Rhuddlan (46 page)

“Will!” Delamere said sharply. He quickly
inserted himself between the two combatants but he faced Longsword.
“Don’t do it, Will,” he said, more calmly, persuasively. Longsword
didn’t look at him; his eyes were locked in Teleri’s steady
stare.

A tense moment ensued. The crowd in the hall
was silent, waiting. Teleri’s servants wrung their hands nervously.
Neither husband nor wife moved.

“Lord William, may I have the pleasure of an
introduction to your beautiful wife?”

The words were polite, the speech unhurried
and the inflection made it clear the speaker found the situation
before him amusing. The earl of Chester stood with his arms behind
his back, his lips slightly curved. All eyes swiveled to him.
Longsword dropped his arm slowly and turned around.

“When I was a guest of Prince Dafydd, he
spoke often about his lovely niece at Rhuddlan,” Hugh continued,
coming forward. “I confess I found it difficult to believe there
could be a woman so perfect, one who possessed such beauty,
intelligence and spirit that she put all other women to shame but,
my lady,” he said with a bow to Teleri, “I can see the prince did
not exaggerate.”

Longsword’s initial anger at being
interrupted when he was on the verge of discovering what had
happened to Gladys, gave way to incredulity. He had never heard
such drivel before, even from Delamere, who knew the right words to
send any woman into a swoon. For the first time in his married life
he waited expectantly for Teleri’s sarcastic comeback.

Teleri stared uncertainly at the earl. Was he
making fun of her or was he serious? His face, pleasant and open,
appeared serious. Nobody had spoken to her like that since she’d
been forced to leave her uncle’s house and marry the uncouth lout
who’d raised his fist to her before all of Rhuddlan. She lowered
her eyes. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured.

Hugh stepped past Longsword and took Teleri’s
hand, raising it to his lips. “I am Hugh fitz Ranulf, earl of
Chester.”

“My lord,” she said, and curtsied
gracefully.

“My lady, you must promise me the honor of
sitting beside you tonight at supper.”

She glanced up, her eyes flickering to
Longsword. His plainly shocked expression decided her. Except for
her wedding feast, she had never taken a meal with her husband and
his men. She smiled at Hugh. “It would be my pleasure, my lord. If
you will excuse me?”

She brushed by Longsword with a triumphant
look, collected her women and disappeared into the stairwell at the
far end of the hall.

Teleri was determined to punish her husband
for humiliating her in such crude fashion in full witness of so
many people. Now that she had successfully gotten rid of his slut,
she felt near to invincible. She was well aware, from the buzz
surrounding the earl’s arrival, that Longsword disliked and
distrusted Chester; these would be her weapons.

She sat at the high table between her husband
and the earl, who had insisted that she have the place of honor,
which was his seat, at Longsword’s right. She had taken a great
deal of care with her appearance, dressing in her best gown,
wearing the jewels her uncle had bestowed on her and covering her
shining hair with the sheerest of veils. When she’d entered the
hall, the noise level had dropped dramatically as everyone had
stared in admiration at her, hardly believing that this was the
same shrew about whom their master constantly complained. The
earl’s compliments were by then superfluous but gratifying to one
who had gone without for so many months. She didn’t look directly
at her husband, but could feel his amazed stare.

She had planned to devote all her attention
to the earl and shame Longsword before his men. She hadn’t planned
on finding the earl so attractive.

Besides his courtly manner, he had even
addressed her in Welsh and when she expressed surprise that he knew
her native language, explained that he had spent his early years in
Chester, where hearing Welsh was almost as common as hearing
English or French. He apologized for not being fluent; he seemed to
have forgotten much of it, he said, but it wasn’t a language which
came easily to a foreign tongue and he was sure that his poor
accent was hopelessly butchering the little he did remember. Teleri
was charmed, especially when he praised her own command of Norman
French.

She liked this earl of Chester. She tested
his name in her mind. Hugh. Not a very nice name; too
simple-sounding. Earl Hugh sounded grander. She liked the look of
Earl Hugh, as well. Next to Richard Delamere, he was the most
handsome Norman she’d ever seen. He was well-dressed, his hair,
only a few shades darker than her own, was neatly trimmed and
combed, and his eyes were a vivid blue—and fixed, more often than
not, on her. He didn’t laugh too loudly or shout across the tables
as Longsword was wont to do. He was regal in all his movements and
speech—quite unlike the shabby Longsword, who was the king’s
bastard. She thought that if she had married this quiet, polite and
attentive man, she wouldn’t have hated the Normans as much as she
did.

She forgot all about Longsword, sitting on
her other side, as she and Hugh discussed his recent visit to the
Perfeddwlad. She was anxious to hear the latest news and he had
evidently found much to admire and report on in the prince’s
court.

Longsword fumed. The fact that he knew she
was deliberately flirting with the Traitor did not lessen his
embarrassment. Others wouldn’t see it that way; they would think
that he, who had wanted to spurn the earl, was instead being
spurned himself. He would be a laughingstock.

Delamere, seated on Longsword’s other side,
leaned into him and said in a low voice, “I haven’t seen Chester’s
shadow all evening. I expected him to stand behind his master’s
chair and move his jaw up and down so he could chew.” Longsword, a
frown creasing his forehead, didn’t respond. “Will! Are you
listening to me?”

Longsword jerked to attention. “I can’t
believe this, Richard!” he whispered furiously. “She hasn’t a
fingernail full of shame! It’s turning my stomach!” To prove his
point, he pushed his trencher away. It knocked into his cup,
upsetting it and spilling wine onto the white tablecloth.
Momentarily diverted, Teleri gave him a withering look.

“Is the meal not to your liking?” she
inquired.

He glared at her. “I’ve had enough,
Teleri!”

“Oh…Enough food…or wine?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Is something wrong?” Hugh asked
politely.

Delamere saw that Longsword was about to lose
his temper and said quickly, “My lord, we were commenting that we
haven’t seen Roger of Haworth tonight.”

“No, Roger’s always working. Long, formal
meals are not to his taste.”

“His reputation with the sword is well-known.
I hope he can be persuaded to give us a demonstration
tomorrow.”

“I’m certain of it,” Hugh said, smiling.
“Roger is generally modest—except when it comes to showing off his
skill at swordplay. I tell him he could make out very well in
tournaments but he is nothing but loyal. He says he prefers serving
me.”

After witnessing her daughter’s conversation
with Richard Delamere, Eleanor decided they must leave Rhuddlan
immediately. Bronwen was not a shy child who kept out of sight and
Eleanor didn’t want the least attention drawn to her. But how to
leave and where to go: these were the questions over which she
brooded as twilight descended upon the fortress and the earl and
all his men entered the keep for the evening meal.

The abbey was the easiest and most logical
choice but it was rumored that Sir Richard believed Gladys had fled
there and in the morning would dispatch a small group of knights to
investigate. If Eleanor wanted to return to the abbey without
Longsword’s knowledge, then she and Bronwen would have to wait
until those men came back—which might mean days. A protracted wait
was, in her opinion, too much of a risk.

And how to get there…She had faith in the
ability of her own feet, but Bronwen was only a little girl; it
would be impossible for her to walk such a distance without a great
deal of aid. The journey would take several days at the child’s
pace, exposing the two of them to the natural elements and perhaps
even discovery by Longsword. Taking a horse—even one of no
significance like that Gladys and the groom had taken—to speed the
travel was similarly impossible. Since the discovery of the missing
cob, the stablemaster was doubtless tending to his duty with an
overzealous eye.

The situation loomed so hopeless that Eleanor
almost cried in frustration. Then salvation presented itself in the
form of Alan d’Arques, who suggested fleeing to Richard Delamere’s
manor.

At first Eleanor was hesitant. Although he
was grateful to her for saving Longsword’s life, Delamere never
quite trusted her and she was certain he would be outraged to
eventually learn that she was hiding on his property despite
Longsword’s order that she was not to leave Rhuddlan.

But she really had no other option.

She and Alan stood close together under the
shadow of the guard tower where Eleanor had gone to find him. In
the murky light he looked reassuringly large and solid, and she
wanted to trust him.

“What of Sir Richard’s wife?” she asked.
“Will she be angry having unexpected visitors thrust on her?”

“I’ve never seen Lady Olwen angry,” he
replied cheerfully. “And I think she’ll like Bronwen. Sir Richard
told me once she was disappointed their last child wasn’t a
girl.”

“What about horses?”

“The three of us can easily ride on mine,” he
said.

For the first time since she saw her husband
ride into Rhuddlan, Eleanor breathed a little easier. “Oh, Alan,
thank you! You don’t know how frightened I’ve been…”

“Are you certain you want to do this, Lady
Eleanor? He’ll only be here a few days and I don’t think he’ll
recognize you.”

“
You
did!”

“Yes, but…” He grinned suddenly, his
expression sheepish. “I look at all the women, Lady Eleanor,
especially newcomers. Chester won’t so much as glance in your
direction, believe me.”

“I can’t chance it, Alan.”

“All right. It’ll take us a good half day to
reach Sir Richard’s farm and I want to be back by nightfall. Can
you be ready very early?”

Eleanor nodded, relief flooding through every
nerve in her body. “I don’t think I’ll sleep at all tonight…”

He gave her arm an encouraging squeeze and
watched her walk swiftly away, pulling her cloak close around her
shoulders. He turned to go back into the guard tower, and almost
crashed into Roger of Haworth.

“Alan d’Arques, isn’t it?” the man said
pleasantly.

“Yes…” His voice sounded shaky, he thought.
He tried to remember exactly what he and Eleanor had said and at
the same time wondered how much Haworth had heard. “Good evening,
Sir Roger.”

Haworth smiled without showing any teeth. “So
you’ve been exiled to this outpost of the empire as well, have
you?”

“I’m one of Lord William’s household
knights,” the younger man replied, somewhat defensively. “It isn’t
exile.”

Haworth made a show of looking around.
“Still, it’s not the most prestigious assignment. I’m surprised the
king couldn’t do better by his son, even if he is bastard.”

“Lord William is content enough.”

“That’s good,” Haworth said. He inclined his
head and started past Alan. “Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow on the
practice field.”

He was moving in the same direction Eleanor
had taken, which might have meant nothing—or everything. Alan
called after him hastily. “Are you looking for some place in
particular, Sir Roger? If so, I can direct you.”

The other knight turned around. “Just
wandering…” He grinned suddenly and to Alan’s frantic mind,
maliciously. “When I’m in a strange place I like to know where
everything is. Good evening…”

One of Longsword’s knights escorted Hugh back
to the chamber he would never have been able to find again on his
own. Particularly in his current, inebriated state. Also in his
current, inebriated state, the young knight looked tremendously
appealing; well-built, slender, unblemished complexion and an
untidy mop of dark golden hair…very much like Robert Bolsover. He
had insisted the man lead the way, instead of walking behind and
directing him, just so he would be able to watch his shoulders and
hips move.

“This is it, my lord.”

Hugh halted. “Thank you. What is your
name?”

“Ralph de Vire, my lord.”

“Thank you, Sir Ralph. I have to admit I’ve a
terrible sense of direction.”

“This place rambles quite a bit, my lord,” de
Vire said cheerfully. “It takes getting used to. Can I help you
with anything? Or do you have someone to attend to you?”

Hugh was tempted to take up his offer. He
would have been justified, after all; where had Haworth gone? Not
for a moment had Hugh believed his claim that he had business to
tend to. No—it had been the realization that he would have had to
share Hugh with Lady Teleri at the supper board that had prompted
his disappearance. Haworth seemed to be able to tolerate the
presence of women only if they were anonymous servants or meek,
invisible wives.

But it had been a long day of riding and
duelling verbally with Longsword and he was tired. “I imagine Sir
Roger will be up shortly.”

De Vire bowed slightly. “Good night, my
lord.”

Hugh opened the door to his chamber but
lingered outside, looking after de Vire until the man was gone from
view. With a sigh—of exhaustion as much as regret—he went in.

“My lord.” Haworth’s deep voice greeted him.
It was amazing the degree of accusation he could put into two small
words. But Hugh was too drunk and too tired to feel irritated.