Shattered Vows (28 page)

‘Badly?’

‘I...I...think so. Lady Margaret was so distraught that her babe has started, and it’s not her full time.’

‘I need a horse,’ Oliver said, quickly running his gaze over the troop. Two of the men were youths, they wore no mail and their arms were light. One was riding a stocky-looking roan. ‘You, sir. You’re a knight?’

‘I’m a squire, sir.’

‘I’m borrowing your mount.’ His lips twisted. ‘I mustn’t offend a fellow knight by taking his, must I, Martell?’

Sir Brian made a choking sound.

Oliver flung himself into the saddle and turned the roan’s head towards the castle. ‘You can follow on foot,’ he said to the squire.

‘Yes, sir.’

The youth saluted and moved towards Rosamund. He was eyeing her with definite interest. Oliver’s stomach tightened. Her honey-brown hair had been whipped into tangles by the breeze, a breeze that had pinked her cheeks and tugged open her cloak.

‘Oliver?’ Huge blue eyes watched him. ‘I’m to follow you?’

‘Yes, you follow-’ He broke off. The squire was only a lad, but the way he was studying the curves revealed by Rosamund’s damp, clinging gown... Oliver felt a muscle flicker in his jaw. ‘No.’ He reached down his hand. ‘You ride with me.’

Chapter Nine

T
he troop rattled into a bailey crammed with soldiers and Oliver cut through them, drawing rein by the steps at the entrance to the keep. Lady Adeliza – clad in black from head to toe – was standing at the top of the first flight of steps, talking to Sir Gerard. Sir Gerard’s face was pinched. Although he was opening and shutting his mouth, Rosamund suspected he wasn’t actually saying anything.

Rosamund’s jaw dropped as she assimilated the changes in Lady Adeliza. Lord Geoffrey’s mother was wringing veined hands at her breast, her eyes were wild, and her black veil flapped untidily about her. She looked like an elderly rook whose rookery was being threatened by the woodcutter’s axe.

A squire stood at Sir Gerard’s elbow, plucking his sleeve. The squire was gabbling like a madman, he seemed to have forgotten his polished French phrases and was expressing his agitation in his native tongue. Never had Rosamund seen a knight look more harassed – Sir Gerard’s grizzled head moved from side to side as he listened first to Lady Adeliza...then his squire...then Lady Adeliza again. When another man emerged from the seething yard and came to join them, Sir Gerard put his hand to his greying head and she heard him say, ‘Must think. Strategy, that’s what we need. Must think. Need a minute to think.’

Sir Brian reined in, jumped from his mount, and executed a courtly bow.

‘Merciful Heavens, what now?’ Lady Adeliza said. Her veil snapped in the breeze.

‘I’ve found your nephew, my lady,’ Sir Brian said.

Behind her, Rosamund felt Oliver slide from the saddle and her fingers tightened on the pommel. Her pulse thudded, the ground seemed further away than it had done a moment ago.

‘My lady.’ Oliver bowed. ‘How fares my cousin?’

‘He lives, but no thanks to you, you traitor.’

Oliver’s shoulders stiffened and his face went curiously blank.

Sir Brian made a swift negative gesture. ‘My lady, that is not proven.’

‘Not proven? My poor son has barely dubbed him and he’s consorting with rebels in the woods!’

‘No!’ Rosamund burst out before she could stop herself. Several heads turned curiously in her direction and she moderated her tone. ‘It wasn’t like that. My lady, he was ambushed and taken prisoner.’

‘Who dares interrupt?’ Lady Adeliza said, impaling Rosamund with a well-tried glare.

Rosamund subsided, face hot. She wanted to hide, but that was impossible – she was stranded high and dry on the back of the roan, afraid to move, afraid to breathe...

Lady Adeliza turned back to Oliver. ‘De Warenne, you’re a disgrace to your name.’

‘My lady, I swear on my honour, I haven’t betrayed our house.’

Lady Adeliza made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort. ‘It’s strange how your arrival in the North coincided with the first sighting of these rebels. Two weeks you’ve been here, and my lord of Hewitt tells me that his men first heard Angevins were in the area two weeks ago.’ She lifted an enquiring eyebrow. ‘Coincidence?’

‘I knew nothing of them till last eve,’ Oliver said, firmly.

Lady Adeliza’s eyes glittered. ‘The attack on Geoffrey this morning must have been carefully calculated. It was almost as though they had first-hand knowledge of Ingerthorpe – as if someone had gone over to them with information.’

‘My lady, I swore an oath to your son and I mean to honour it,’ Oliver said, stiffly.

‘Were you hurt in this...ambush?’

Oliver grimaced and fingered the back of his head. ‘A little.’

‘Hmm.’ Lady Adeliza looked thoughtful. ‘Did you talk?’

Oliver drew himself to his full height. ‘My lady? I think I misunderstand you.’

‘I think not, de Warenne,’ replied his aunt. ‘Well? Did you?’

Oliver’s set expression had Rosamund leaping to his defence. ‘He didn’t betray you, he would never betray you. Didn’t the rebels bring a ransom demand? Didn’t they send you his spurs as a sign that they had captured him?’

Lady Adeliza’s black eyes lingered pointedly on Rosamund’s tangled hair, on her torn gown. Rosamund held onto the pommel and glared back. Thank God, the roan stood firm. Lady Adeliza’s expression was proud. Unreadable. She lifted a wrinkled white hand to hide a quiver of her lips and to Rosamund’s surprise she was favoured with a reply.

‘There was a ransom demand. However, after the attack in which my son was wounded, some suspected the demand was a ruse. It was suggested that my nephew had thrown his lot in with the rebels.’ Lady Adeliza’s lips twitched as she cocked an eyebrow at Oliver. ‘You have a fierce ally in that wench of yours, de Warenne.’

Oliver shrugged. ‘It seems the maid is struck with the notion of having a knight as a lover. It’s not in her interests to see me disgraced.’

Rosamund glared at him. ‘Oliver!’

Grey eyes met hers. ‘It will save you the trouble of finding another protector, especially since we find you are not wed after all.’ He reached up and lifted her to the ground, slapping her dismissively on the buttocks. ‘Get to the ladies’ chamber. My lady will need your help.’

Gritting her teeth, she smiled sweetly at him. ‘And which lady do you mean me to help, sir? Lady Margaret or your Lady Cecily?’

‘Whoever needs it the most, of course.’ Oliver turned on his heel, leaving her to scowl at his broad back. ‘Sir Gerard, your report, please. Where do we stand with these rebels?’

Sir Gerard glanced at Lady Adeliza.

Lady Adeliza sighed. ‘Tell him, Gerard, and for God’s sake give him back his spurs. Someone has to take command. My son cannot be moved and Lord Hewitt has not yet returned. No-one else is fit for command.’

Sir Gerard puffed out his chest. ‘But, my lady-’

‘Take over, de Warenne.’ Lady Adeliza gave him a thin smile. ‘I trust you’ll not disappoint your aunt.’

‘Your servant, as ever, my lady,’ Oliver said, inclining his head.

Rosamund felt two inches high. He had time to play the gallant with his aunt, while she was dismissed with an insulting slap on the buttocks. Was this how it was going to be now he knew she was unwed? He had taken her maidenhead – in a sense he had ruined her. She was a fallen woman and no-one, not even Oliver who knew she had been innocent when she met him, respected a fallen woman.

‘Come, Gerard...’ Oliver was entirely focused on his fellow knight ‘...accompany me to the armoury. What was their strength when they attacked? How many men did we lose? And where the devil is Hewitt?’ His voice held authority. His demeanour, as he started for the armoury, was calm.

She shivered. So cool. So controlled. The old Oliver was back. Had the Oliver she had glimpsed in the past few hours – warm, loving – simply been a figment of her imagination?

His height and his dark hair made it easy for her to follow his progress. A group of archers parted to let him pass. Sir Gerard was hopping alongside him, stammering into one ear, whilst the squire who’d lately clung to Sir Gerard was busily filling Oliver’s other ear. Oliver directed an order at the squire. The lad flashed him a look of intense relief and his face split into a smile. Then he was off, keen as hound racing to do his master’s bidding. A groom panted up and he too claimed Oliver’s attention.

And he hadn’t given her so much as a backward glance. It was clear that until this crisis was ended, she would be forgotten. There was an ache in her heart, but she couldn’t look away. His callous dismissal had hit her like a spear thrust through her vitals. He must have heard every word she’d uttered in Lufu’s hut. If only she’d kept her foolish fantasies to herself. Then he wouldn’t have given ear to Lufu’s suggestion that she should try and trick him into marriage.
He thinks all I care about is feathering my nest. He doesn’t trust me.

Had she admitted that she loved him? It was a struggle to remember her exact words – she was too agitated to think straight. Even if she had admitted that she loved him, in his present frame of mind he’d likely think it was a ploy to trap him into marriage. He wouldn’t believe her. And if he did believe her, would he care? She stared blindly at the ground.

What would happen to her? Would he discard her as his lover? No.
No.
That mustn’t be allowed to happen. She didn’t care if he refused to marry her. Let him wed the Lady Cecily as he had sworn to do.
But he must keep me as his lover.

All was not completely lost – there was comfort in the fact that he’d stopped Alfwold from taking her back to the mill. And he’d kissed her at the falls. He mistrusted her – and yet he’d kissed her. Which meant that he desired her none the less. For now, that would have to do. Her eyes prickled and the bailey was misted with tears.

Beggars couldn’t afford to be choosy.

‘Come, girl.’ Lady Adeliza’s voice made her start. ‘We must leave the men to do their work. Thank God Sir Oliver knows what he’s about. I confess I am relieved he’s back at Ingerthorpe, I have little knowledge of military strategy. Naturally it was never my domain, but when Sir Gerard didn’t have the first idea how to proceed, I was forced to intervene.’ She grimaced and her black veil shivered in the breeze. ‘Ghastly, utterly ghastly. However, I’m glad to see my nephew can handle matters. My son had doubts as to de Warenne’s integrity but you, my dear, apparently do not.’

‘N...no my lady. You are right to trust him,’ Rosamund said, bemused. Heavens, did Lady Adeliza just call her ‘my dear’?

Lady Adeliza’s face softened and her gaze followed Oliver as he went into the armoury. ‘I see much of my wilful sister in him,’ she said, wistfully. Her voice hardened. ‘Now...girl...what’s your name?’

‘Rosamund, my lady.’

‘Well, Rosamund, we cannot neglect our duties. Do you know anything of healing?’

Rosamund blinked, there was no sign of the distraught woman who had greeted the troop a few moments ago, Lady Adeliza Fitz Neal had returned – proud, confident and assured. ‘I know which herbs to use for most ailments, my lady, and I know how to mix-’

‘Excellent.’ Lady Adeliza nodded briskly. ‘You won’t faint at the first sight of blood?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘Come with me.’ Lady Adeliza picked up her skirts and started up the steps. ‘I could do with a wench with a sensible head on her. You will follow my directions, I need assistance with my son. Marie is too taken up with poor Margaret’s confinement to be of any use with Geoffrey; Blanche took one look, turned as pale as her name, and dropped like one dead. As for Cecily-’ Lady Adeliza broke off as she peered down the stairs at Rosamund. ‘Hurry up, girl.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Of course, one can’t expect Cecily to do anything,’ Lady Adeliza continued, moving off again. ‘But one would at least have hoped she wouldn’t make matters worse by running off screeching. I had to send two of my ladies in search of her. There were no men spare today, as you see.’

‘It must have been very trying, my lady,’ Rosamund said.

‘Trying? You have a gift for understatement, my dear. However, with you here, we can concentrate on my son, and leave de Warenne to deal with the Angevins. And while we’re about it, you will explain how it is that you are so certain my dear sister’s son is no traitor. I felt instinctively that he was not, but Lord Geoffrey will want more than that. He won’t be pleased to hear his garrison has been entrusted to a suspected traitor on the strength of a woman’s instinct. He will want proof of his cousin’s loyalty.’

***

Rosamund had lost count of how many days had passed since her return to the castle. She had been tending her lord day and night and it had only been when she was swaying on her feet that Lady Adeliza had dismissed her.

‘Go and eat, girl,’ her lord’s mother said. ‘You’re no use if you collapse. Geoffrey is quiet, and I can manage alone for a while. I don’t want to see you until you are fully refreshed. You’ll find sweet wine in the store.’

Rosamund headed straight to the hall. Food and drink was found for her and she sunk onto a bench, too weary to care that the trestle was littered with half-eaten meals and no-one had come to clear them. In the past few days, cleaning had been a luxury the occupants of Ingerthorpe Castle had done without – everyone seemed to be preparing for a siege. There were no ladies sewing in the upper chamber – supplies were being counted; medicines and bandages were being hunted out from dusty stores; wounds were being tended.

She rubbed her eyes – they felt dry and scratchy – and squinted at the dust motes floating in a shaft of light. It must be sunny outside. On the next trestle, a couple of soldiers were bolting down their food. There was no easy banter between them, the men simply ate doggedly and went unsmiling back to their duties. They had nothing on their minds but winning. These were desperate times, it was kill or be killed.

And Oliver? What was he doing? She hadn’t seen him since he’d ridden into the bailey with her on that borrowed horse. How long ago had that been? Two days? Three? She pressed her fingers to her temples, leaned her throbbing head on the trestle and gave into exhaustion.