The Sword and The Swan (16 page)

"—and I do not think it will be possible to turn him from that path."

"Who?" Rannulf asked, realizing that he had missed what Lady Warwick said in his self-absorption.

"Leicester, of course. He has listened very attentively to the so-charming Hereford, and, what is more, Eustace has pricked him soundly."

"I do not know what Leicester will do, and if I did, I would not discuss it with a woman, madam," Rannulf snapped. "To me it matters little what any man, even my foster brother, will do. I have lived so long in one pattern—do you think I can change now? Nor, though you are my guest and I owe you courtesy, does any man owe any woman so much as to talk of the doings of kings with her. You follow your lord's bidding, and all will be well—or, if it is not, no one can lay any blame upon a virtuous wife."

Lady Warwick's face flamed. She should have known better than to try to speak sense to such a hidebound, stiff-necked, self-righteous boor. It was really for the best that she had urged her husband to press Rannulf to make his keep the place of meeting of the barons. What was to be decided was who should go with Eustace to France and what force should be furnished.

The problem presented no easy solutions. First of all, Eustace had managed to alienate even those men who were steadfastly loyal to his father through his greed and dealings with their vassals, which bordered on the dishonorable. Second, although the great magnates of England were not happy about Henry's steady aggrandizement in France, by and large they were shortsighted men and would not recognize the implications this increase in power had for England. They could see little reason, they said, for wasting men and money in trying to wrest from Henry what, after all, was rightfully his and which cost them nothing.

Warwick, who was growing old, wished to settle the matter in a series of private conferences in London. This, his wife pointed out, was completely unsuitable for two reasons. One, Maud had spies everywhere in London and, through them, would hear of who had said what. Therefore, no one would speak his true mind for fear of her displeasure. Worse yet, any promise given in private could easily be violated. To that Warwick, who was an upright and honorable man, objected, but his wife laughed in his face, asking with derision how many fools like himself he thought there were.

The second reason Lady Warwick proffered for objecting to private meetings was that each man would suspect he was doing more than the others. It was a matter that should be talked over in an unrestricted atmosphere where everyone could hear what everyone else was offering and hold him to it.

Wearily Warwick agreed, suggesting that they hold the meeting in their own keep where, if his conscience must be troubled, at least his body would be comfortable. To this, Lady Warwick objected also. She did not present her private reasons for being opposed to the idea, which was simply that, if the conference produced insufficient support for Eustace, the holder of the conference might be blamed. She merely pointed out that their keep was so much on the border of the rebel territory that any great gathering there might be suspect.

Sleaford was finally chosen as being the most out-of-the-way spot and the least likely to be sown with the queen's spies. Rannulf was by no means enthusiastic about holding the meeting in his castle either, but since his reasons were personal, merely a disinclination to be at home, he yielded to what he felt was his duty.

Now, riding home, he was bitterly sorry he had agreed. Matters never seemed so bad when he was away. Catherine's letters, although concerned solely with the children, estate problems, and household matters, were almost warm. It was only when he was actually in her presence, when he was forced to take her ice-cold hand in his and see her glance shrink away, that the full weight of his misery fell upon him.

Sir Andre Fortesque craved admittance to Lady Catherine's solar and was invited to enter. His eyes passed over his mistress with absent approval. Certainly she was a beautiful woman and when she took pains, as she had today, with strings of pearls braided into her moonlight hair and a bliaut of silvery-blue silk floating around her, she did almost look like the angel Mary called her. It was unfortunate she should be so pale and have so little vivacity.

"Madam, I can get no attention from Richard at all today. You know how he is about his father. He desires most earnestly to ride out to meet him. May we do so?"

Very faintly Catherine smiled. "Yes, of course. But do not ride beyond the borders of the holding, and take some twenty or thirty men-at-arms. I suppose there really is no need, but his lordship does not like the boy to go unprotected."

"Thank you, madam."

"Wait, Andre. Richard makes good progress, does he not?"

"Indeed he does. He is as forward as any child of his age and more—but a devil."

"I know. That is all high spirits and boyish pranks. Do not—do not tell his father of his mischief."

"Some things may be overlooked, but what am I to say of the laming of the brown destrier? And the serfs assuredly will complain of the sheep that was slain."

"I believe Richard will confess those matters himself and it is better so. I reminded him last night, and he promised me he would not fail. We may wait out this day at least. If he does not keep his promise, it will be soon enough to betray him tomorrow."

"Very well, you know I—" Andre's voice checked as Mary tripped in, also specially clad and looking very pretty. There, he thought, forgetting what he had been about to say, was true beauty. Perhaps the features were not so perfect, and assuredly Mary was less wondrous fair, but she had spirit and countenance, which was better.

"You what?"

"I—I—oh, yes, I love the boy. I would not wish to cause him any grief, but to spoil him with indulgence . . ." His eyes wandered away again and Mary blushed under his glance.

Catherine frowned slightly. "I know you truly care for Richard, nor do I wish him spoiled. The real harm he has done must be confessed and, if our immediate punishments were not sufficient, he must bear what his father lays upon him. I merely wish the confession to come from him without urging. You had better take him now." A rueful smile crossed her face again. "If you do not, he will likely ride out by himself and truly enrage Lord Soke."

Dismissed, Sir Andre went at once, but he looked back in the doorway, and Mary's eyes followed him. Catherine sighed. More trouble. She attended absently to her stepdaughter's message, noticing more the girl's confusion. What was to be done about this? The attraction between the pair was plain and had been growing steadily stronger in spite of all efforts to check it. Mary was ripe for marriage too, and should be given at once, but Rannulf had made no reply to her repeated messages on the subject. Catherine did not know whether he simply could not decide, whether he did not wish to dower the girl, or whether he was reluctant to acknowledge her publicly.

What increased the difficulty was that Sir Andre had not declared himself. True, he was the youngest of a number of sons and had nothing but the arms he bore and his horse. Therefore, under ordinary circumstances, he could not marry unless his father or his suzerain could find an heiress for him. Mary too had nothing in her own right, her mother having been a maidservant whom Rannulf had taken casually to his bed between his first two marriages. Still, if Andre had asked for Mary, Catherine would have had a reason to go to Rannulf and demand some settlement of the girl's future.

If only she had some influence with her husband, the matter could be easily settled. She would gladly have parted with some of the revenues from Soke temporarily if Rannulf was straitened for money.

There was nothing for it but to demand a settlement for Mary anyway. Once Mary had a portion, she was sure Andre could be brought to admit his desire for her, and the portion would not need to be given up at once. They could continue to live at Sleaford while Andre tutored Richard. Later, when the affairs of the country were more settled—if ever such a time came—Andre could be made castellan of one of Rannulf's or Catherine's properties.

Of the three minds at work on the same subject, Mary's was the least depressed. She had little faith in or affection for her father, but her dependence on Catherine's ability to bring about a miracle was enormous. She did not know how it would be or what would happen, but she was absolutely sure that Lady Catherine would give her her heart's desire.

Sir Andre had considerably less belief in miracles and had not even considered soliciting Catherine's help. He was in no doubt whatsoever about who was the master of Sleaford. If he was to make an offer for Mary, it had to be directly to Lord Soke, but he was not at all certain that he should even try.

It was not that he did not love Mary, nor that he was greedy and wished to wait until he knew what her portion would be. What troubled Sir Andre was that he could not believe he had the slightest chance of success. True, Mary was a bastard, but she was acknowledged to be Lord Soke's daughter, and the earl of Soke could look higher than a mere penniless knight for the husband of even a bastard daughter. Many a petty baron would be willing to take her, even with a small dowry, for the assurance of Soke's good will and influence.

Richard, riding beside Sir Andre, chattered and chattered, but Andre muttered "yes" and "no" only half hearing. He had better hold his tongue. If Lord Soke knew of his desire, he might dismiss him from service. Even if he could not have Mary, he could see her and speak to her here, and he had a true affection for his scapegrace charge. An earsplitting shriek beside him woke him in time to spur his horse forward so that he reached Sir Rannulf only a few seconds after Richard did.

"Papa, papa!"

The boy freed his feet from the stirrups and launched himself from his saddle into Rannulf's arms, neatly avoiding the hand Sir Andre stretched out to detain him.

"Richard, Richard!" his father mocked breathlessly, struggling to hold his reins, grasp his son, and keep his shield from knocking the child to the ground. "Will you never learn to observe the smallest propriety toward me?" he scolded. "You are too old for such tricks."

"You have been away so long!"

"Yes, and if you strangle me, I shall soon be sorry I have returned."

Richard giggled. "But you are squeezing me too, papa, so I know you are glad to see me."

Rannulf laughed. "You disrespectful imp. I am squeezing you so that you will not fall off and be trodden underfoot. There now, my child, enough. Andre, put him back on his own horse. Richard, I want to present you to Lord and Lady Warwick."

Sir Andre held his breath, but the boy said his piece in acknowledging the introduction very properly. Richard was well taught, but he was a very passionate child, and occasionally took an instant aversion to certain people. When that happened, he was neither to hold nor to bind and acted more boorishly than the worst educated child of a serf. It was important to Sir Andre that Lord Soke approve of his training, so it was fortunate that Richard committed no solecism at all on their way back to the keep. As a matter of fact, he gave Andre good reason to be proud of him when, as the battlements came into view, the happy chatter died down and Richard looked thoughtfully at his father.

"Papa?"

"What now?"

"I have not always been so good a boy as I should."

Rannulf took his lower lip between his teeth in a hard bite. "If you have been brought to believe you did something amiss, I am surprised to see the castle still standing. Very well, I am prepared. What disaster have you wrought?"

"If you will permit, I would rather tell you in private."

"Then you are a fool, and Sir Andre has not properly taught you tactics. If you anger me in private, I will doubtless beat you."

Richard thought that over and turned clear eyes upon his father. "I do not care for that," he replied at last in a low voice. "I had rather you beat me than that you scolded me and shamed me before others."

"Ride on ahead," was Rannulf's only reply, "and tell Lady Catherine that we are but a few minutes behind you." As the boy started, he gestured to Sir Andre not to follow but to come closer. "You have my gratitude. The boy is forming well."

"I wish I deserved it, my lord, but what I have taught him you have not yet seen. The courage he was born with, and the manners and sense of honor, Lady Catherine has given him."

There was, fortunately, no need to answer, since they were now crossing the drawbridge. Sick already with desire for what he could not have and a faint hope that his long absence might have caused an amelioration of her feeling toward him, Rannulf lingered in the bailey and court as long as possible. He saw to the disposition of the horses, visited his kennels and mews, and then, realizing that he was acting out of pure cowardice, made for the external wooden stairway that led into the great hall.

There he found Warwick already disarmed and ensconced in a chair by the hearth. Lady Warwick was in earnest conversation with his wife, but Catherine excused herself as soon as she saw him and came across to drop a deep curtsey and offer her hand. She was pale, far paler than she should be, and her icy hand trembled in his. If Rannulf had been younger, if he had had a less unhappy relationship with his previous wife, if he had not been buckled and armored with pride, he would have burst into tears. As it was, his greeting to Catherine was as cold and formal as hers to him.

Across the wide hall, Lady Warwick watched, pursing her lips in thought. She could not hear what Rannulf and Catherine said, for the high-raftered, stone-walled room echoed with the bustle of the servants, nor could she see clearly their expressions in the dim light. There was, however, a stiffness in both bodies, a rigidity in the way their heads were held when their eyes met, which augured ill for a good understanding between them. She had, initially, counted on Catherine's influence with her husband, but in a way this was just as good. So long as the two were not indifferent to each other, she had some material to work on.

At first when Rannulf joined his guests the conversation was devoted to the improvements in Sleaford Castle, Catherine receiving the compliments bestowed upon her with becoming modesty. Rannulf, when applied to for his opinion, resentfully grunted that it was all the same to him, and his wife's face reddened with chagrin. Shortly after, Mary came bearing goblets of wine and plates of sweet cakes. Catherine's soft lips hardened with determination. The ungrateful brute! This was a perfect opportunity to force his hand with regard to his daughter.