Susan Spencer Paul (3 page)

She seemed confused. “Why do you call it my land? No part of Wellewyn is mine.”

“But it shall be, my lady, when you wed next month. Your father took particular delight in informing me that, even if he wished to do so, he could not sell the land on which the dam is built because it is part of your bride’s portion. The only man who will have power over that land will be your future husband, the Lord of Dunsted.”

“Then I shall have the dam torn down when I am wed,” she declared, though somewhat uneasily. She seemed to become more embarrassed with each new revelation, and Alexander wondered if she had ever been aware that she had a claim to the lands of Wellewyn.

“That would be ideal,” Alexander admitted, “however, your father made it clear that he’d had the choice of the man you shall wed, and that he and Jason de Burgh have an excellent understanding between them. You do know that Dunsted is directly to the south of Gyer, do you not?”

Again she looked surprised. “No, I did not, though when my father wrote to tell me of my marriage, he said I should live close to Wellewyn. That is one of the reasons I agreed to it. Are you not...friendly with my future husband?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Not the least bit friendly, though God knows I have tried time and again to come to terms with the man. There is a strip of land bordering Gyer and Dunsted that the people of both fiefs have disputed the ownership of for many years. The land belongs to Gyer, but Jason de Burgh and his are so stubborn over the matter that they refuse to give way. They insist on making pests of themselves by visiting raids on Gyer, while my people retaliate in kind, regardless of my efforts to stop them. I’ve tried to meet with de Burgh in an effort to come to some kind of settlement, but he persistently refuses to see me.” He drew in a taut breath, then released it. “I think your father has somehow convinced him that a war with Gyer would be profitable for them both, though God only knows what a madness that is.” Alexander rubbed his eyes again and felt weary.

“But this is dreadful,” she whispered, her lovely face gone pale.

“Yes, it is,” Alexander agreed. “With Wellewyn to the north and Dunsted to the south, I shall have quite a noose around my neck, shall I not? The worst part of the scheme is that I am the one who will be forced to declare war. I am the one who will be seen as the aggressor, who will have to face the wrath of the king. Your father could not have plotted a more perfect plan to bring me to ruin.”

Lillis of Wellewyn looked wretchedly miserable. “I hardly know what to say to you, my Lord Gyer. I am so very sorry for what my father has done.”

“You have no need to apologize, my lady,” Alexander assured her. “I have already said that you are not to blame.”

“Still,” she persisted, “it is my father who is the source of your troubles, and I want you to know how deeply ashamed I am.”

“You do not find it hard to believe that your father would do such a thing, though, do you?” he asked, considering her.

“Do not misunderstand, Alexander of Gyer. I love my father. He is all I have ever had and has always shown me great love and kindness. Yet I must admit,” she said almost guiltily, “I have thought that he might be hard-hearted toward others.”

Alexander almost snorted at such a gentle term being used for a devil like Jaward, but since the unhappy lady before him was the man’s daughter, he kept silent.

“I understand, my lord, why you wish to keep me here, and I agree that war must be avoided at every cost, but I beg you to release my companions and myself. I swear to you that I will speak with both my father and my betrothed. I will make certain that the dam is torn down, even if I must tear it down with my own hands.”

“No,” he said softly. “I do not believe that either your father or Jason de Burgh will be stopped simply because you ask it of them.”

She stood suddenly, and her hands fell to determined fists clenched at her sides. “But I give you my vow that I will have the dam destroyed! I will swear to honor this vow by all that is holy, by God himself. All I ask is that you trust me. You will not have reason to be sorry.”

Alexander stood, as well, more out of a desire to be polite than anything else. He was struck again by her tallness; really, her height was a pleasant change from towering over other women.

“I believe you would do your best to carry out what you say, my lady, but I do not believe you would be successful. I have spent the past six months doing all in my power to persuade your father to tear down the dam only to have him laugh in my face. Yesterday he assured me that naught would change his mind.”

“But he would listen to me!” she insisted. “I do not know why he has done what he has, but I do know that he has never denied me anything I have asked of him. I am his only child, and he loves me.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “He loves you so much that he kept you from your home for more than ten years?”

Her expression became so suddenly stunned and pained that Alexander wished, powerfully, that he’d never spoken the careless words. She looked at him as if he’d slapped her.

“My lady—” he began in his sincerest, most apologetic tone.

“He did
not
send me away,” she informed him shakily. “I was living at the convent in Tynedale and being taught how to read and write and work figures. He came to visit me several times, and he wrote to me constantly!”

Worse and worse, he thought. She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

“My lady,” he tried again, but she didn’t seem to want his apology.

“I tell you he will listen to me!”

“He might,” Alexander said, “but he might not. Indeed, it’s most likely that he will not. You’ve already admitted that your father has never confided in you regarding the management of Wellewyn. If this is so, then there is little reason to believe he will suddenly listen to any request you might make regarding land that he’s never seen fit to explain will one day be yours. You claim that he loves you, but what kind of man loves his child and sends her from his presence for ten years? Did he never once want you home, even for Christmastide?”

She flushed deeply. “That is no concern of yours, Alexander of Gyer! And it has naught to do with the matter at hand. I have given you my vow that I will see the dam torn down. My sacred, solemn vow. Will you or will you not let my companions and myself go free?”

“I have told you that I will not,” Alexander replied, “and I have told you why.”

She drew in a deep breath, pressed her lips together tightly and sat down with a thump. Alexander sat again, as well, wondering rather uncomfortably if he was now going to be treated to the screaming and wailing he had expected earlier.

“Will you at least let me write my father and ask him to fulfill your demands? He will be more inclined to comply if I do the writing.”

Well, so much for screaming and wailing, he thought, picking up his ink quill in a careless gesture.

“I’ve not yet decided whether I’m going to write to your father. I shall have to consider what is best to be done.”

She sat forward in her chair. “But you must write him! My father’s not been well, and he’s been expecting me these past two days already. He’ll be terribly worried by now. You must at least let him know that I’m all right.”

Alexander felt an unexpected surge of anger. “You will have to forgive me, my lady, if I don’t care whether your father worries or not. He’s given my people and myself no reason to love him.”

His sudden anger caused her to sit back again, as though she wished to be as far away from him as possible, and he regretted having spoken so harshly.

“Forgive me,” he apologized quietly, thinking that it was more than the third time he’d done so that morn. “I fear I am rather worn from dealing with your father of late. I have a great many vassals who have labored hard to save their crops, to no avail. The thought of having to tell them to prepare for war against both Wellewyn and Dunsted in the face of all they’ve already suffered sickens me.”

She made no reply, and Alexander looked up and saw that her eyes were wide upon him, filled with a sympathy he’d never have expected from the daughter of his enemy.

“I understand what a terrible situation you’re in, Alexander of Gyer,” she said, “but what good will it do you to hold us here? If you don’t let us go, there will most certainly be a war. My father will call on Jason de Burgh and you will have his men, however few they may be compared to your own, swarming around you, demanding our release.”

“I know,” Alexander admitted soberly. “That is why I must think carefully on what is to be done. I harbor no falsehoods about which side will win should a war erupt. Neither your father’s nor your betrothed’s men could possibly stand against the strength of my own army. Still, I have no desire to kill any man without need. But these are not matters to concern yourself with, my lady. I shall do my best to keep anyone from coming to harm.” He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Now that you are aware of why you are being held I will try to come to some kind of decision as soon as I can. Until then, please believe that you and your maid and guards will be treated as guests in my home, save you’ll not be allowed the freedom of the castle without escort or be allowed to go outside the castle itself. Have you any requests to make of me regarding your comfort?”

She contemplated Alexander in silence, long enough for him to feel uncomfortable beneath her steady gaze, long enough for him to understand something about the pride behind the eyes that held his own so determinedly. “My maid and I will take all of our meals in our room,” she answered at last, breaking the silence and bringing him relief. “As prisoners in your home, we would not feel comfortable partaking food with your family. We will wish to attend chapel in the mornings. I assume you have a chapel at Gyer?”

Her mocking tone made him smile in wry amusement. He was one of the wealthiest men in England, as she must have very well surmised from the size and richness of Castle Gyer. Of course there was a chapel, which she must know very well, too. “Yes, indeed, my lady,” he answered with a hint of matching sarcasm. “It is just outside the inner bailey. I shall be happy to escort you and your Edyth there for the morning mass.”

“You are kind, sir,” she said without expression. “Our things were brought to us this morn and we now have our needlework to keep us occupied. However, the chamber we are in does not receive enough light during the day to make the work easy, and so we will require a place that is well lit in which to pass the day.”

That was easily enough remedied. “The women of the household do their needlework in a certain corner of the great hall that receives full sunlight during most of the day,” he said, “and that is near a fireplace for warmth. I’m sure that both my aunt and my betrothed will be glad to have your company there.”

“Your betrothed?”

“The Lady Barbara Baldwin,” he replied, noting her look of surprise. “You’ve not had a chance to meet the rest of my family yet. My betrothed is my cousin, distantly related, and lives under my protection. Both she and her brother reside at Gyer.”

Lillis of Wellewyn seemed to struggle for a moment, then finally said with forced politeness, “Becoming acquainted with the rest of your family, my lord, is a pleasure that I fear I do not crave. Your brother, Willem, seems meet enough, but your aunt and twin brothers—”

“Yes, I know,” he interrupted in an angry tone. “My younger brothers are wild, untamed fiends, as you know firsthand. Our mother died seven years ago when they were but eight years of age, and they’ve been out of hand ever since. Even before then they were my father’s favorites, and spoiled beyond enduring. After my mother’s death he kept them close to himself and gave them free rein. No one was allowed to reprimand them, and he certainly never did. He coddled them into just the sort of creatures whom you met yesterday, and since his death I’ve not had much luck in taming them.”

“Then you are much to be pitied, my Lord Gyer.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Alexander defensive. “I
have
tried to discipline them, my lady.”

“I’m sure you have, my lord. Now, about my guards—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I saw to them this morn. They have been moved to suitable quarters and are being kept under watch. I’ve made it clear that they’re to be allowed as much freedom as possible with supervision. Their meals will be the same as those that you are given, so that you will know they are well fed.”

She seemed satisfied with this and rose to leave. “That is well, then. I should like to return to the chamber you’ve given us, my lord, and inform my maid of our situation. We will devote the remainder of the morn praying for a resolution to the problem at hand, as it is now far too late to attend mass.”

She sounded just like the nuns she’d once lived with, Alexander thought as he rose to escort her. “You must not worry, Lady Lillis, over your care while you remain at Gyer.” He spoke the words without thought, as simple courtesy. “I swear by God’s holy name that you and your companions shall be treated as though you were members of my own family.”

She seemed to find his words quite amusing, for she smiled, then laughed, and looked and sounded so beautiful doing so that it nearly stole Alexander’s breath away.

“My lord,” she said, “I do hope you’ll not take my words amiss, but I promise you that my companions and I would far rather be counted your prisoners than ever be considered members of the family Baldwin.”

L
illis hadn’t slept well the night before, either. The chamber she and Edyth had been taken to was comfortable enough; indeed, more than comfortable. It was lavish compared to the spare, plain room they’d been used to at the convent. The furniture in the chamber was finely made, ornamented with delicate carvings and embroidered with intricately sewn needlework. Artful tapestries covered the walls, depicting scenes of romance and adventure, and in the center of the room sat a large bed, heavily curtained with rich, burgundy-colored velvet hung by gold rings. The feather down mattress in the bed was unimaginably soft, and both she and Edyth regarded it with some awe before allowing themselves to actually sit on it. Their beds at the convent had been about as comfortable as a cold stone floor.

Lillis had realized immediately that the chamber was meant for the lady of the castle, for there were many feminine touches declaring both its rank and occupancy. Silver brushes and an ivory comb sat on a silver tray in front of a highly polished steel mirror, perfume decanters offered the exotic scents of sandalwood and lilac, and a woman’s jewelry chest made of fine cedarwood sat on a lady’s dressing table next to a silver filigreed makeup box.

Servants came and went, bearing trays of food and drink and buckets filled with hot water with which they filled a large wooden tub set beside the fire. They went about their duties in a meaningful silence and left Lillis and Edyth alone in the chamber without speaking one word to either of them.

The food and wine that had been brought tasted better than anything Lillis had ever eaten, probably, she knew, because she was half starved and also because she was so used to the simple food that the nuns at Tynedale ate. She had no doubt that the food at Gyer was better than the viands that would nourish them at Wellewyn would be, if they ever got to Wellewyn, because her father was very poor and could not afford fine cooks and expensive fare.

“If we must be prisoners, at least we’ll be well-fed prisoners,” she jested with Edyth, who was in a trancelike state after taking a bite of pears cooked with wine and raisins.

After their meal they undressed and bathed in the still-warm bathwater. A bar of scented soap was included with the provided necessaries and the two women exclaimed over it. At the convent they’d been used to washing with rough soap that smelled like the sheeps’ fat it was made from, but this soap was soft and soothing and smelled like lavender. They dug through their belongings and pulled on their nightclothes.

They’d gone to bed, both of them amazed anew at the softness of the mattress, and Lillis could tell by her steady breathing that Edyth had fallen to sleep almost immediately. Lillis herself, however, had spent much of the night awake, trying to sort out their situation, and now she was suffering for it.

She sat back in the comfortable chair she’d been sitting in for some hours and forced her eyes to stay open. The midday sun filtered through the many windows at the end of the great hall where she and Edyth were passing their time, and the light and warmth made Lillis feel sleepy. Just beyond the windows she could see glimpses of a beautiful garden. How she would love to explore that garden, to smell the fragrance of the flowers and feel the breeze on her face. Never before, until she’d been denied them, had she so missed the clean smell of fresh air, or the giving of the earth beneath her feet. There were two guards now, standing nearby, who would protest if she tried to enjoy such simple freedoms, for Alexander of Gyer had made it clear that she was not to be allowed outside the castle walls unless he was present.

“Careful, dear!” came Edyth’s voice, startling Lillis.

She looked and saw that she’d dropped her needlework onto the rushes that covered the floor. The rushes were clean and looked as if they’d recently been placed down, but Lillis scooped her material up just in case. She took too much pride in her needlework to take any chances with it. Folding it on her lap, she glanced across the room. With some amusement she saw the women who were sitting at the other end of the hall quickly lower their interested eyes.

“He said they would be only too happy to receive us here,” she remarked, more to herself than to Edyth.

“What was that, dear?” Edyth looked up from her needlework.

Lillis nodded in the direction of the group of women. “Them. The womenfolk of Castle Gyer. Alexander of Gyer assured me this morn that we would be well received by them, but it seems that the only thing those ladies well receive is the gossip Aunt Leta gives them. I can see from here that she says a few words, then looks our way, says a few words, then looks our way...” Lillis craned her neck to see the women better. There were seven sitting together in a group, bent over needlework and talking when they weren’t staring at Edyth and herself. “I wonder which one is his betrothed?”

“Whose betrothed?” Edyth asked, then added, “Lillis, it is quite rude for you to stare at them so!”

“I know, Edyth, but if they’re going to sit there and look at us as though we were oddities we can certainly return the favor.”

Edyth sighed and looked back to her needlework. “Whose betrothed?” she repeated.

“The Lord of Gyer’s. She was supposed to be one of the women who would be happy to welcome us here. She is also his cousin.”

“My goodness, you certainly did learn a great deal during your meeting with him this morn.”

She certainly had, Lillis thought with heartfelt sincerity.

The moment she’d seen the two men standing in that chamber she thought perhaps she’d walked through the wrong door by mistake. Neither of them looked like the man who had introduced himself to her the night before. One of them, the one nearest her whose face was a vivid red color, was much too tall to be Alexander of Gyer, and the other, who stood behind a table, looking rather expectant, was much too handsome. She had stared at both of them in turn until she’d finally realized that the handsome one
was
the Lord of Gyer.

The discovery had been a distressing one, for Lillis had little experience with men, even less with one so handsome. He’d stood before her, green eyed and dark haired, tall and muscular and much younger than she had realized. His features were purely aristocratic, with a straight nose, expressive eyebrows and a well-shaped mouth. As well, there had been about him a mild and utterly natural expression of superiority, which marked him as the nobleman he was.

It had taken only a moment before she’d determined that her best defense against such a man would be anger, and so she had steeled herself against him.

The conversation with her captor, once begun, had gone more smoothly than Lillis had expected. Alexander of Gyer was not the tyrant she had thought he must be; instead, she found him polite, well-spoken and intelligent. He had explained her situation with honest regret, and had listened to all that she’d had to say.

She’d suffered some shock when he told her of the things her father had done, but he was right when he said that she was not really surprised. Lillis loved her father deeply, for to her he had always been loving and kind, but she knew he was a vengeful man and could be quite cruel. She’d seen enough during her childhood of how he treated his servants and vassals to know these things about him. But she also knew he would listen to her if she only had a chance to speak with him, for he had never been able to deny her anything she’d asked of him. The fact that Alexander of Gyer didn’t believe this was understandable, of course, but extremely frustrating.

“Are you quite sure that he’ll not change his mind, my lady?” Edyth asked. “Your poor father must be terribly worried by now.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is,” Lillis agreed. “But, no, I do not think Alexander of Gyer will change his mind. I don’t know what he will do or how he will use us, save I am reasonably certain we shall not be killed or beaten. Still, I do feel foolish sitting here and enjoying ourselves in the luxury of Castle Gyer while my father is probably worrying himself into illness. Too many more days and I promise that I will begin to think of ways to escape our benevolent prison.” At these words Edyth looked absolutely panicked, so that Lillis quickly added, “But we’ll not speak of such things yet. We shall wait a day or two and accept whatever hospitality Alexander of Gyer offers us, and pray that he finds a solution by then.”

Edyth seemed comforted, and managed a slight smile. As Lillis returned the smile she chanced to look behind Edyth’s chair and saw a movement in the shadows. She bent forward to look more closely and noticed that the shadows were actually two small figures; children who were hugging themselves tightly against the wall to keep from being seen.

“What now!” Lillis said lightly. “Who have we here? Come and let us see you. Come,” she coaxed. “We’ll not harm you.”

Edyth turned to see who it was that Lillis addressed and, being closer to the children, was able to discern them more clearly. “Why, what precious little ones!” the older woman exclaimed, dropping her needlework. “What do you do there, hiding so? Will you not come and say hello?”

But the children seemed thoroughly frightened, if not of Edyth, certainly of Lillis.

“You’re a witch!” accused a small, trembling voice.

“My goodness!” Lillis declared with surprise. “Whatever makes you say such a thing?”

“You look like a witch” came the reply. This time the voice belonged to a boy.

“Do I? How is it that I look like a witch? I’ve never seen one before, so you must tell me.”

“You are all white. And you are a giant.”

“Oh, I see,” Lillis said, repressing the urge to laugh. “Well, I suppose I am all white, as you say, but I assure you that I was born this way and that being such doesn’t make me a witch. As to being a giant, why, I’m not nearly as tall as the Lord of Gyer, am I?”

“No,” said both voices.

“And is he a giant?”

“No.”

“Then, if I am not as tall as he, and he is not a giant, I am not a giant. Does that not make sense?”

They were quiet, clearly thinking this through. Finally the boy spoke again. “Barbara said you are a witch. She said that you turn children into mice and drown them in wells. She said you can put a house to fire by pointing your finger at it.”

“Barbara said you cast spells on people that makes them howl like dogs,” the little girl added enthusiastically, “and that they grow hair all over their bodies and can never be the same again.”

“Oh, my!” Edyth put one hand over her heart in distress. “What dreadful things to tell children!”

Lillis finally gave way to an amused chuckle. “So the lady Barbara told you I am a witch, did she? Well, she is quite wrong. I can do none of those things and I most assuredly am not a witch. Come now, I promise I shall not harm you.”

The children did come, but warily. The closest child was a beautiful little girl, seven or eight years of age, with golden auburn curls atop her head and large hazel eyes full of curious expression. The other, a boy a couple of years older, was surprisingly lanky and thin. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, and the most serious expression Lillis had ever seen on a child.

“What lovely children!” Edyth exclaimed, putting out a gentle hand to draw them closer. They willingly moved to the older woman but kept their distance from Lillis, whom they stared at with open distrust.

“What are your names, my dears?” Edyth asked them.

“Candis,” whispered the little girl, never taking her eyes from Lillis.

“I am Justin,” the boy said.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Candis and Justin.” Lillis nodded to them formally. “Do you belong to someone in the castle?”

They looked at her with confusion.

“How is it that you are here in the castle?” she clarified.

“We live here. Alex is our brother,” Justin replied.

“Oh,” Lillis said with disappointment. She had assumed that they belonged to the cook or one of the servants, and had been happy with the prospect of having children close by to spend time with. She sincerely doubted, however, that Alexander of Gyer or his family would appreciate her and Edyth even speaking to Candis and Justin. She looked to see whether the women across the room had any reaction to the children being with them and was relieved to find that Aunt Leta and the others had their heads bent in conversation.

“Why are you not doing your lessons now, children?” she asked. “It is not yet time for the midday meal, is it? Do you not have a tutor?”

The boy shrugged. “We do what we want. We did have a tutor last week, but Hugh and Hugo put a snake in his bed and he left. Alex hasn’t found a new one yet, but it won’t matter when he does. Hugh and Hugo always get rid of them in a few days.”

“Once they put salt in the tutor’s wineglass!” Candis said with a giggle. “It was so funny to see him try to drink it without choking! He was too afraid to tell Alex that the wine was bad!”

“How horrid!” Lillis said, surprised at the anger in her voice. “Are your brothers not punished after they do such things?”

“Ye-e-es,” Justin replied haltingly, sounding somewhat uncertain.

Amazed, Lillis shook her head. “That’s too bad for the both of you, is it not? You are deprived of an education because of your brothers’ behavior. Where are your nurses? Who looks after you during the day?”

“We only have one nurse,” Justin supplied. “Her name is Molly and she sleeps a lot.”

Candis giggled again. “She keeps wine hidden in her room and drinks it during the day. We wait until she’s snoring and then we sneak out. But it was hard to wait today, because we wanted to see the witch.”

“Well,” Lillis said with some disgust, “I’ve already told you that I’m not a witch. As to your nurse—” She was so angry she couldn’t continue.

“Does the lord of the castle not care that your nurse is so
sleepy
all the time?” Edyth asked.

“He’s very busy,” Justin replied, as though that should explain.

“I see,” Edyth said feebly, and exchanged wondering glances with Lillis.

“What of your Aunt Leta?” Lillis asked. “She manages the household for your brother. Does she not care about your lack of supervision?”