The Warrior's Game (5 page)

But like Eleanor, Ami also had a chair from which she ruled her tiny bit of the world, in this case a simple folding stool. That's where Ami found her maid. The frail Maude crouched like a lost kitten at the stool’s foot, tears glittering in her blue eyes, her thin fair hair having drifted free from the confines of her plaits. Four years at court, and Maud still hated being left alone with her betters.

“What did the king say of us going home for the holiday?” the maid breathed in question to her mistress, her brokenhearted tone suggesting she already suspected the answer.

“I dared not take the opportunity to ask,” Ami said, as she once more settling into the confines of her tiny world.

The unfairness of being trapped here when others, women with brothers or fathers to watch over them, came and went more frequently nipped at her. Not that John overtly denied her. Nay, she could have all the freedom she desired as long as she paid for it. Last summer she'd begged to attend the wedding of her distant cousin Gerard of Essex, a man raised at court as John’s own foster son. The king had let her go only after she'd paid a fee against the possibility of being kidnapped and forced into illegal marriage.

Ami’s lip curled. As if anyone would kidnap her. Wasn't she the woman that even a godforsaken mercenary had declared worth less than even the forty-five pounds she once believed her value?

“Wine,” Ami said, and touched her maid’s bowed head. “I think we could both do with a little wine.”

The girl gave a ragged shudder and raised her head. “Will that help, my lady?”

“More than you can imagine,” Ami replied with a little laugh. Aye, right now she’d like nothing more than to drink until she wiped this whole day from her mind.

Nay, it was more than wine she needed. Ami untied her purse from her belt. There was still a reassuring heft to the soft leather pouch. She peered at the pennies within, their metallic clink a reminder that she'd spent but little of her Michaelmas allowance. Of course, what this purse contained had to stretch until next Easter, when the time came to again collect rents from her lands.

If de Martigny left her anything to collect come Easter.

Well, in that case she'd be a beggar soon enough and no amount of penny pinching on her part would save her from the fate. She smiled at Maud. “I say we share a posset flavored with cinnamon.”

Maud’s thin lips quivered into an almost smile. She adored the taste of cinnamon. Ami never failed to let her maid sip any concoction that included the expensive spice. “Thank you, my lady.”

Taking Ami’s purse, Maud retrieved her mistress’s plain metal cup from their chest and set off across the hall on her way to the kitchen.

Ami watched Maud until her view was blocked by a woman dressed in blue and gold striding toward her. A middle-aged widow, Lady Roheise de Say had sharp features and eyes and hair the color of slate. As she neared she lifted her lips into what she no doubt assumed was a friendly smile. What tiny bit of pleasure Ami had regained with talk of possets died into sour dismay.

Not all of the king’s wards were orphaned and helpless, be they widow or heiress. Some were so rich or highly placed that the king held them as he would a male hostage, using them and his power over them to check their families’ behavior. So it was with the newly come Lady de Say, the daughter of an earl and cousin-by-marriage to the powerful Lord Geoffrey de Say.

As society dictated Ami came to her feet to offer Lady Roheise both a proper show of respect and her stool. The lady gave a shake of her head. The snap of her fingers brought one of her four maids rushing to place the lady's small chair next to Ami's own. Lady Roheise sank onto the seat, the graceful lift of her hand giving Ami permission to sit as well.

“I wanted to offer you what comfort I can, Lady de la Beres,” Roheise said, her manner far more casual than their acquaintance warranted. “How dare our king put that lout in charge of your properties! Tell me, since you’ve been here years now and I am only newly arrived, does one actually learn to tolerate these indignities? You are so calm when I’d be thrashing upon the floor in rage.”

Ami hid her reaction to the lady's backhanded insult behind an insincere smile of her own. “Many thanks for your concern, my lady. No matter my manner, believe that I am outraged. But what can I do when I have no control over my own fate? Against that, all thrashing about on the floor will accomplish is the ruin of my gowns.”

Roheise loosed a startled laugh, the sound filled with genuine amusement. “I like your wit, my lady. Was that your servant I saw leaving with your purse and your cup?” She cocked her brows in question. “Tell me the king doesn’t require you to buy your own drink.”

“Not the wine, my lady,” Ami replied, “only the cinnamon and sweetening for a posset.”

“Why, doesn’t that sound lovely on a cold wet day,” Roheise exclaimed. “I think I’ll have one as well. I have a recipe, one of my own devising. It’s wondrous. Why not let my maid”--the lift of Roheise’s hand indicated her waiting servant--“make one for you as she makes my own? Not only will it spare you the expense of purchasing what you need for your drink, but I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Roheise didn't wait for Ami's agreement, simply lifted her hand and sent her maidservant racing after Maud.

The urge to thrash on the floor until her gowns were ruined and her head no longer hurt tore through Ami. No one here ever gave so much as a compliment without expecting something of equal value in return, and spices were far more dear than words. Nay, what Roheise bought with this gift of hers was a few moments of privacy with Ami when Ami was very certain she didn't wish to be private with Roheise.

Reaching out, Roheise laid a hand atop Ami's fingers where they rested on her thigh. “I think we shall come to become great friends, you and I.”

Ami freed herself from Roheise's touch to fold her hands in the pretense of prayer. “I doubt that, my lady,” she retorted, her voice held low so her words would not be overheard now that the women in the room had given up their arguing to return to the tasks at hand. “Friends don't use friends, and I've had enough of playing the pawn today. Why not spare us both the pretense? Speak honestly and true, and tell me how you believe I can be of use to you.”

Astonishment and not a little pique flashed across Roheise’s expression, but the lady didn't skewer Ami for her boldness. That could only mean Roheise believed Ami and no other would do for whatever use she intended.

“I see those who told me you were unusual didn’t mislead me,” Roheise said, her irritation fading as she continued. “You’re right to think I want something of you, but make no mistake. Aid me and you’ll be aiding yourself as well.”

“Is that so?” Ami asked mildly.

When Lady Roheise smiled this time she showed a little too much tooth. “Do as I ask and you’ll not only save your properties but become the fount of the de Martignys' destruction.” Her words were but a whisper; it was dangerous to threaten the king's favorites.

Ami blinked. It was the only reaction the lady would get until Ami was certain the noblewoman's intent was more than smoke and shadow. “And just how will I achieve this feat?” she asked, her voice flat.

Satisfaction flared in Roheise’s slate eyes. “It’s justice I want, for you and me. No prince should have the right to confine us, giving control of our estates to men with no connection to our land. Where no country knight would pick up his sword to defend the likes of me, not when he covets my wealth, you are one of them, a knight’s daughter and a sheriff’s widow. At last lesser men will recognize that John threatens not only his noblest subjects but them as well, along with their wives and daughters. Your disparagement, my lady, will become the flint upon which the spark of rebellion is at last struck.

“You must request to meet with de Martigny in regards to your properties. Then, when you are together, send away your chaperone on whatever pretext of privacy you can concoct. That baseborn lout will take the advantage, doing rape against you.”

Shock drove Ami back so sharply on her stool that its feet screeched an inch or two along the floor. She stared at the noblewoman, sure this was some cruel prank. Instead it was sincerity she saw displayed on Roheise's sharp features. That, and the utter certainty that Michel de Martigny would stoop to rape.

The lady wasn't finished. “Once the mercenary has had his way with you,” she continued, no hint in her voice or manner of any prank, “you’ll come to me. With my arms around you I’ll cry to all the land that a commoner under John’s protection has done this terrible deed. As he always does, the king will refuse to punish his man, freeing every good knight to raise arms against their liege lord, demanding that he restore the rights and freedoms he's stolen from us.”

A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped Ami’s lips, sounding all too much like a whimper. What was it about this day that offered so many threats to her previously unchallenged virtue?

Well, what Roheise wanted she would never get. Rape is what should have happened in that alcove. God knew Ami had all but begged the mercenary to take her. Instead, Sir Michel had made a point not to touch her, not even after her entire being had ignited in the hope that he might.

Against the certainty of her plot's failure Ami dared to tweak the noblewoman. Leaning forward to brace one arm on her knee, she adopted the posture her husband had used when he haggled with those merchants who bought the wool their sheep produced. “So, if I might clarify. What you want is for me to invite the mercenary to take me, yet after the fact cry out that wrong was done me? Or do you expect me to fight him, craving signs of injuries as further proof of his brutality and base nature?” Ami asked calmly as if she were urged every day to spread her legs for men.

Lady Roheise frowned. “Do you mock me? I know well that this is no small thing but what we plan--”.

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Ami interrupted, “but I’m very aware of what you plan. You not only want me ruined, you want every knight in England to know of it. What you haven’t told me is how this will rid me of Sir Michel as administrator of my properties or what will become of me after all is said and done.”

“Why, the commoner can’t possibly control your estates if he’s dead, my lady,” Roheise said, pouncing on this. “Drawn and quartered he’ll be for using you, and you’ll have the satisfaction of watching him die.” There she stopped, offering nothing else.

Ami knew why. “And what of me?” she prodded. “What happens to me, to my life and future, after I am ruined in the eyes of all England and you have your precious rebellion? Better yet, tell me what’s to happen to me if your uprising fails. How will you protect me once you've used my ruination to enrage our king, after I've been debased and stripped of any hope of remarriage or a life outside these walls?” The lift of her hand indicated the hall around them.

The noblewoman’s gaze shuttered. “I am patroness to a nunnery.” It was a flat statement.

“Ah, so you’ll buy me a position?” Ami suggested, knowing this wasn’t at all what the noblewoman intended.

The lady’s expression again tightened. It said she'd hoped she wouldn't have to reveal more than what it took to stir Ami's outrage, praying her pawn's need for revenge would be blinding it is scope. “I’ll pay them a stipend to keep you.”

“How good of you,” Ami breathed, trying to hide what boiled in her.

Roheise was no better than the king. She'd pay the nuns to keep Ami in barren and comfortless confinement while Roheise's cousin or some other powerful man took control of Ami's properties and made free with its profits.

The noblewoman had grace enough to look chagrined. “A convent is no less a prison than this place,” she protested.

“But at least here I have my virtue and my name. However petty you may think me for it, my good name is my pride,” Ami dared to scold. “Find someone else to play the martyr for you.”

It was as these words left her mouth that Ami saw what she had missed, and how she could repay Roheise for trying to use her even as she struck back at the two men who had abused her this day.

“But I don’t need to be ruined,” she said softly, slanting a sly look at her soon-to-be victim.

“What?” Lady Roheise demanded, a hopeful edge to her voice. “How?”

Ami prepared her trap with care. “What if I’m able to drive the mercenary to the point of attempting an assault before a witness? Would an incomplete attack serve your purpose?”

Lady Roheise’s eyes took fire. “But of course,” she assured Ami, not yet feeling Ami's trap as it closed around her.

Roheise's agreement was no more than Ami expected, given the arrogance of the lady's class. In Ami's not-so-noble world priests and sheriffs did not acknowledge assault if the woman remained untouched and hadn't been heard crying out for help. Not so the nobility. What Sir Michel had done this afternoon qualified as assault by virtue of his base birth alone.

How hard could it be to provoke the commoner into once again trying to intimidate her as he'd done in the alcove, this time in a more public place? Once he had Roheise would raise the outcry, not of rape but of only its attempt. That would leave Ami's repute untouched. Better still, the storm the lady provoked would make Ami too visible for John to consider using. And, even if her king didn't rethink Sir Michel as custodian of Ami's properties, her new notoriety would make it too dangerous for the king to pretend not to notice as Sir Michel stole what belonged to his ward.

The urge to gloat rose. Ami caught it back. She had no assurance of success. John had promised another meeting in his bedchamber and, left unchecked, Sir Michel would make a beggar of her. As for Roheise, the very fact that she'd spilled her plan today had stained Ami as an accomplice to her plot even if Ami didn't participate, which was no doubt Roheise's intention.

Nay, Ami remained a pawn, and pawns didn’t often survive lusty kings, bloodthirsty knights who painted their mail black, or noblewomen who owned the arrogance of queens.

“Then my lady, I will aid you.”

Roheise’s answer was a grin filled with more confidence than any woman's ought. She came to her feet, deigning to fold and lift her own stool. “I go, leaving you to enjoy your posset in privacy. Know I expect results as swiftly as possible, preferably before I must leave for London in a week's time. Nor will we speak again until you’ve accomplished your goal.”