Warrior's Song (20 page)

    "Light the torch, Mark."

    Jerval stared down at Alan Durwald.

    "He is dead?"

    "Aye." Jerval rose to his feet. "As for Sir John, he will look quite well hanging from the gibbet at Camberley."

    Jerval rode into the inner bailey at Camberley with Sir John and his wife, Lady Faye, beside him, and three Camberley men-at-arms at his back. He had left Mark, Malton, and the rest of Camberley's men at Oldham to restore some kind of order to the keep.

    Sir John faced his overlord in the Great Hall, and knew by the implacable look on Lord Hugh's face that he was lost. He listened in silence while Sir Jerval recounted the events at Oldham.

    "The Scot leader, Alan Durwald, is dead," Jerval said. "Our northern border should be peaceful for a time."

    "The Scot threatened me, my lord," Sir John said, rushing forward to grab Lord Hugh's arm. "He stole my cattle and sheep and bribed my steward and some of my men. I told your son about my steward. He was in league with Durwald. I had no choice but to obey him. He said he would kill me and my poor wife if I did not hide him when he needed Oldham as a base."

    He waved his beringed hand toward his hapless wife, who stood trembling with fear, her eyes upon her feet. Stupid bitch, he thought with impotent anger, could she not at least plead for him? "Aye, Faye was Durwald's mistress, the faithless bitch. She is the one who is guilty here, not I."

    Chandra broke the silence. "You wear valuable rings on your fingers, Sir John, and very costly garments. Yet I look at your lady wife and see that she wears a tattered gown, and is thin and pale. And the bruise beside her mouth, Sir John, does not become her. It would appear to me that you have not protected her well from harm."

    "Durwald struck her."

    "Oh, no," Jerval said. "That is a lie."

    Sir John had forgotten that he'd hit Faye in front of Jerval de Vernon. Damnation, such a mild blow it had been, it had barely marked her. "She was the one who must have warned him that you would be there."

    Chandra said, "If your wife is behind all this wickedness, Sir John, then why do you wear the rings and the velvet?"

    Sir John looked at the beautiful young woman who was undoubtedly Sir Jerval's new wife. Why did he allow her to speak so freely? To question him?

    "I have offered to give her anything she wishes, but she refuses," said Sir John.

    It was so ridiculous that Chandra couldn't help herself. She laughed. "You are a pathetic man, Sir John. Soon, at least, your lady wife will be free from your abuse."

    Sir John stared at the girl. That she was even allowed in the men's presence still shocked him. But that she would speak of executing him— she was naught but a worthless woman— angered him beyond reason.

    "She is a stupid cow," Sir John yelled. "She is barren. You have naught to say about any of this, girl. Shut your cursed mouth!"

    "Enough!" Lord Hugh bellowed.

    Jerval said, "Chandra is right, Father. There is no doubt at all that Sir John has been in league with the Scots for a long time now. He is responsible for the loss of our stock. I think the money from the sale of all his rings will provide Lady Faye enough to live comfortably. She bears no blame in this, I am certain."

    He looked toward Lady Faye, and was surprised to see the haunted look gone from her eyes and her thin shoulders drawn back. Jerval said to his wife, " Chandra, would you please see that Lady Faye is made comfortable?"

    "Aye, my lord, it would be my pleasure." She smiled at Lady Faye and took her hand to lead her away.

    "You should not be swayed by foolish women, Lord Hugh."

    Sir John saw only a blur of movement. Jerval's fist smashed against his jaw, and he dropped where he stood. "I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw him." Jerval rubbed his knuckles. "To see his fat body swinging from a gibbet will please me even more."

    And so it was done.

    Lady Faye, Chandra discovered, was the eldest of four daughters of an impoverished knight from the south of England, near Rye. She was shocked to learn that Lady Faye was only twenty-seven years old, for she was so bowed and thin, her hair as scraggly as Alma's. There was a look of hopeless suffering etched into her pale face. "But why did you wed Sir John?" she asked as she herself helped bathe Lady Faye.

    Lady Faye winced slightly as the washcloth touched her bruised ribs. "Not everyone is as lucky as you, Lady Chandra," she said, without rancor. "Sir Jerval is not only an extremely handsome young man— he is also kind, an uncommon quality in a husband."

    Chandra said absolutely nothing, though she was thinking about his body over hers, his mouth touching her, caressing her. Lady Faye didn't know the half of it.

    "Sir John is— was— a mean, greedy man," Lady Faye said, no emotion in her voice. "My father, poor man, had four girls to contend with. Ten years ago, I suppose that Sir John looked at my meager dowry as sufficient, but of course it did not last long."

    Mary helped alter one of Chandra's gowns to fit Lady Faye, who was some inches shorter, and much thinner. Chandra presented her proudly at supper the evening after Sir John's hanging, an event to which Lady Faye appeared oblivious, and placed her in her own chair.

    "You are such a kind child," Lady Faye said to her, "but is it wise to bring me to sup with the family?"

    "No one has ever called me kind, Lady Faye. Nor am I a child. You are but a few years older than I, and soon, after you have added some pounds, you will look even younger. I doubt not that I will be telling folk that you are my younger sister."

    Lady Faye smiled. "You are as kind as your husband, and I will never let you forget it. I thank you, Chandra."

    Jerval greeted Lady Faye, smiling because he'd heard her words. He was surprised at the change in her, though he had no idea what they were going to do with Sir John's widow.

    Lady Avicia inclined her head politely and offered Faye a huge helping of roast lamb. "A man will not want you again unless you fill out my daughter-in-law's gown."

    "Mayhap," Chandra said, her chin up, "Lady Faye does not want another husband. Her first was a monster."

    Lord Hugh said, "Sir John's jewels will bring sufficient funds for another dowry if Lady Faye wishes it." For the first time Hugh saw the potential of the young woman.

    Julianna said, "Chandra's gown is not a becoming color for you, Lady Faye. I have a pink wool that you may have."

    Chandra stared at Julianna, so surprised that she did not at first see that Faye was silently weeping.

    "You are all so very good," she said, hiccupping.

    "You cannot eat if you are crying," Lady Avicia said matter-of-factly, and the newly created widow meekly swallowed her tears, and a goodly portion of lamb.

    After supper, Chandra fidgeted about in her bedchamber, waiting for her husband. She had finally left Lady Faye in Mary's capable hands.

    "You will wear out Mother's new carpets," Jerval said as he came into the room.

    "Oh, good, you are here. Jerval, I must speak to you. It is very important. Now."

    "I must needs speak to you as well. I believe this is yours, Chandra." He pulled a foot-long plaited rope of golden hair from his tunic and tossed it to her. She caught it and stared at the dusty hair.

    "He was wearing it braided around his wrist— like a gallant knight with his lady's favor."

    "It is my hair," she said. "My hair— he was wearing it? That is ridiculous. It is no favor."

    Jerval walked slowly to her, stopping only inches away. "Listen to me. Durwald was a vicious animal. Had he escaped with you, there would have been no ransom. He would have kept you and raped you until you were dead or wounded deeply, like Lady Faye. He would have broken you, Chandra, doubt it not."

    "Just like poor Faye? Aye, you're right. God, what you men do to women. You didn't see all the bruises. She is only twenty-seven years old, Jerval." She was trembling, so angry that she blurted out, "And like Mary? Mary is pregnant, raped by another one of you animals! And none of it her fault either!"

    Jerval stared at her silently for a long moment. He said finally, "By the virgin, the child is Graelam de Moreton's?"

    "I didn't mean to tell you like that. I meant to speak slowly, in a very reasoned manner. Oh, damn. There is no hope for it now. Yes, Graelam raped her, you know that. Now she is pregnant, and she doesn't know what to do. It wasn't her fault, but now she will be damned. Please, we must do something. I just don't know what."

    She was over three months gone with child. He cursed softly. "I can see that you are greatly disturbed by this. So am I. Don't worry. I will take care of the matter."

    "Just like that?" She snapped her fingers. "I know that you are very kind, that your mind works wondrously well, but what is it you will do? Come, tell me."

    But he was gone.

CHAPTER 20

Lord Hugh bellowed to the nearly eighty people in the Great Hall of Camberley, "Oldham needs a master who will not cheat its people, and who will rebuild its defenses. Sir Mark of Oldham. Ah, I like the sound of it. Come forward, Mark."

    Malton laughed at the stunned look on Mark's face. "Go ahead," he said, poking Mark in his ribs, "leap for joy."

    Mark just couldn't believe it, but it was true— it really was true. He was now a landed knight. Lord Hugh wouldn't lie about that. Absolute euphoria filled him.

    "Will you, Sir Mark of Oldham, swear fealty to your overlord?"

    A cheer went up from the men-at-arms. Mark, who didn't think there were any words in his head that could make their way out of his mouth, did not have to answer until the noise died down. He walked slowly to Lord Hugh, who sat in his grand chair, his left hand on his boarhound's head, Jerval standing beside him. Jerval was grinning at him from ear to ear.

    Then Mark threw back his head and said, loud and strong, "I swear upon my honor and my life to be your loyal vassal, Lord Hugh." He could have well understood if he had been appointed castellan of Oldham, but now he was the master of Oldham, and no longer a landless knight in the service of another. When Jerval asked to speak to him privately later that evening, Mark was still both bewildered and elated at his good fortune.

    "I have a favor to ask of you, Mark."

    "I would hesitate to cut off my arm," Mark said, that foolish, happy smile of his widening even more, "but anything else I will seriously consider—"

    "Oldham will need a mistress, and if you have no strong objection to the lady, I would offer you Mary."

    Now this was a blow to the belly. Mark said slowly, "That makes a man serious very quickly. I suppose you have seen that I believe her comely and gentle, that I know she is honest and open, and she smiles at my jests. Perhaps I would have come to this myself, but I doubt it, being a landless knight with nothing at all to offer a wife. No, I would have had no right to ask her to wed me. But now— well, it is all different now, isn't it?"

    "Yes, things are different now. I know that her father, Sir Stephen, will provide her a sufficient dowry. As I said, Oldham will need a mistress."

    "She is a woman grown," Mark said even more slowly now, looking past his friend's right shoulder. Then he shrugged and smiled. "It is just that you have taken me by surprise. I had not thought of marriage. And now it is staring me in the face. Ah, Jerval, Mary is also an innocent babe."

    "Have you wondered why she accompanied Chandra to Camberley?"

    "Not really. She and Chandra grew up together. They have been friends since they were children. Also, I've been told that her father doesn't care for her very much, simply views her as a pawn, as barter."

    "All that is true, and there is more. There is no easy way to say this, Mark. Mary was raped by Graelam de Moreton when he took Croyland. He raped her in front of Chandra to bring Chandra into line. Mary is pregnant, over three months gone."

    For a moment Mark could find no words. Rage filled him. But then he realized fully that what was done was done. "I am to be the father to Graelam's child? I wonder if God will grant that the child not be a boy and I have another man's son as my heir."

    "It is something you must consider closely, Mark. I will not try to coerce you, even though Chandra is very nearly distraught over it."

    "Yes, she would be. Naturally, that would add to her dislike of men."

    "Aye, it has."

    "I will do it, Jerval. I like Mary very much. She soothes me, she makes me smile, she is generous. Please ask Lord Hugh to send a messenger to Mary's father to gain his permission."

    Jerval nodded. "He will do it tomorrow. At the very least, her portion should enable you to buy what you need to provision the keep properly, make repairs to the walls, and provide feed and seed for the farmers."

    Mark smiled. "I suppose that I am to have dallied with Mary, and am doing the honorable thing by her."

    "Aye, you will doubtless be cast as the lecher, particularly by my mother, when Mary's belly becomes nicely rounded in the next couple of months." The two men rose, and Jerval placed his hands on Mark's shoulders. "I thank you, Mark, as will Chandra. She has been frantic with worry."

    "Have you told Mary?"

    Jerval looked at him, surprised. "Nay, of course not. I trust she will be overcome by her good fortune. No, of course I could not tell her. Do not worry that her father will turn you down. He won't. My father thinks he will hear soon enough from Sir Stephen and you can wed by early next week."

    "This moves very quickly. It makes a man roll his eyes, Jerval."

    "Aye, that and a good deal more. Are you certain you wish to wed her?"

    "Aye, but I wish I knew whether she wanted me."

    "But I couldn't tell her, could I? What if you had not wished to become master of Oldham? I could not foist a landless lout on her, now could I?"

    "Your wit fells me."

    "I know, but I am trying. Now, you must marry the girl quickly. Do you feel that you can safely leave Oldham in Malton's hands until you return with your bride?"

    "My bride," Mark said, and swallowed. "Aye, I can leave Malton with a half-dozen men under his command. Lord Hugh said that I could recruit more men from Penrith and Carlisle. I must do that quickly. I hope the Scots will not attack until I have the additional men I need at Oldham."

    An hour later, Jerval found his father with a roll of parchment on his lap, his gouty foot propped up on a stool. He was smiling.

    "Sir, what is it?" Chandra said to Lord Hugh, drawing closer, Lady Faye at her side.

    Hugh drew himself up, and that smile stretched his mouth even wider. "It is a letter from King Henry. Prince Edward and Princess Eleanor are touring the lake region on their way to Scotland, and will be our guests. So what do you think of that?"

    "When, Father?"

    "In a week, no more."

    "Only seven days from now?" Lady Avicia whirled about to yell at her husband, "By the Virgin, Hugh, I must have a new gown. Oh, and all the preparations. I haven't the time to get it all done. Oh, my."

    "How exciting it is," Mary said to Mark, who had walked to stand beside her.

    "Aye, it is an honor," he said. "It will also drain Camberley of some of her winter stores."

    "I had not thought of that."

    "It is still wonderful," Mark said, smiling down at her, seeing her with new eyes, the eyes of her future husband. Please, God, he prayed as he looked at her still slender waist, do not let it be a male child.

    Jerval said, "It will be good to see Edward again. You will like Edward's ready wit, Chandra, and Eleanor's gentle grace." He frowned suddenly at the old gown his wife was wearing. "I trust you have something more fitting to wear?"

    "I am learning how to weave," she said, her voice as flat as the tapestry against the stone wall behind Lord Hugh. "It is dirty work."

    Jerval grinned at her. "I trust you are growing as skilled with the loom as you are with a bow."

    "No," she said. "I am not." She shook her head and couldn't help herself— she smiled from ear to ear. "I cannot believe it! Prince Edward will be coming here?"

    He smiled at her excitement.

    "The king writes that my poor Matilda's husband, Eustace, will be accompanying them," Lord Hugh said. "It appears he has been hanging about Windsor since his return from France."

    "I wonder what Eustace was up to in France," Jerval said thoughtfully. "Louis, after all, has already left for the Holy Land."

    "Whatever it is, it won't be good," Lord Hugh said. "Eustace is a rotten whoreson, and I doubt that he's improved with the years. Now, I also think the prince has more reason for visiting the lake region than just to tour his lands and to kick any Scots warriors who happen to get in his way."

    "I think you are right, Father," Jerval said, then smiled at Mark. "I have more good news for all of you," he called out. "It would seem that my mother has more to do in the way of preparations than just for the prince and princess's visit.

    Lady Avicia, who had just begun to make lists in her mind, bent a sharp eye to her son at his words. "Whatever do you mean, Jerval?"

    Jerval studied Mary's lovely face for a moment, then winked at Mark. "I believe I will savor the telling until this evening."

    "He did naught but
inform
you?" Chandra said.

    Mary's happy smile did not dim. "Not exactly," Mary said. "Jerval is always kind to me, and I know he means me well."

    "I should have insisted that he tell me what he was planning."

    "But, Chandra," Mary said, "what does it matter that he did not tell you? After all, he had first to gain Sir Mark's agreement. Mark will be a fine husband, and he is too kind ever to reproach me about the child. I am more pleased than I can tell you."

    "But you were given no choice, Mary. How can you be pleased that Jerval simply decided that you would wed Mark, without even asking what you thought of him?"

    "It would have been my father's duty to find me a husband," Mary said reasonably, "and I cannot tell you how thankful I am that my father will never know about the child. Because Jerval took it upon himself, I am now to marry an honorable man who likes me and will treat both me and the child well. What more could I ask? I will have a gentle lord, be mistress of his keep, and bear his children. Mark knows that I will try to make him a good wife. It is more than I ever could have wished for."

    At Chandra's sigh, Mary said with a rare show of temper, "Would you prefer that I bear a bastard in shame?"

    "Nay, of course not. It's just that I would have liked to know what he was thinking, what he was planning. After all, it is I who am your friend first."

    Mary couldn't help herself. She laughed aloud, laughed even louder, holding her stomach. "Oh, my, Chandra, it is just that Jerval did not even consider asking you that makes you snipe about all of it. But surely you cannot disagree with the outcome. After all, what meaning would life have if one did not marry and have babes, and live together, and share joy and sorrow? Such a sad life it would be." She laid a light hand on Chandra's arm.

    Sharing, Chandra thought, sharing. With a man, with a husband, with Jerval. It was a very difficult thing. It meant giving over— it meant no longer holding what you were, deep inside, close.

    It meant being less than yourself, giving part of yourself over to the other. Over to Jerval. No, he would demand that she give him everything she was. It was a terrifying thought.

    Chandra said, suddenly brisk, "You are right, of course. Now, we have little time to prepare your bridal clothes. And the prince is coming as well. I hear he is terribly tall, isn't he?"

    "Aye, he is called Edward Longshanks. And Lady Avicia is already bustling about. She must wonder why we are to wed so quickly, but she said nothing of it to me. She is so very kind to me, and I fear I have done little to deserve it."

    "Nonsense, you are an angel, and Mark the luckiest man alive. I hope my mother-in-law doesn't clout Mark in the head when she hears of this."

    Five days later, Chandra, her husband beside her, waved one last time to Mary from atop the outer wall.

    "Mother packed the baggage mules so high, I was beginning to wonder if we would have anything left at Camberley," Jerval said. He looked down at his wife's clear profile, so elegant, so pure. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she was gowned beautifully in soft yellow, with yellow ribbons threaded through her hair. He wanted her, right that moment. But he didn't move.

    He said, "You will miss her. We will visit them. Do not fret." He paused a moment, then said slowly, "Mother tells me that you are learning. Not as quickly as she would like, but nonetheless, it appears you are trying a bit. She tells me that most of the time you even manage to keep your mouth shut— a miracle, she believes— but there is still the cursing under your breath."

    "Does that mean I may go hunting with you and the men on the morrow?"

    "No, but perhaps by next month you will have the skill that will change my mind. You will tell me when you are ready to demonstrate what you have learned." He added, "I will miss Mary. She mended my tunics. I will be favorably impressed if you can show me that sort of skill with a needle."

    "I mended the last one— the blue wool you had ripped under the arm. See, you did not even think that it might not have been Mary's work."

    "I simply wondered if perhaps Mary had decided to sew with larger stitches."

    He was laughing at her. She wanted to clout him and she wanted to throw herself against him and beg him to make love to her. He hadn't touched her for well over a week. She wanted him— she admitted it. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her in that special way he had; she wanted him inside her, deep, a part of her. She didn't say anything, but the tears gathered and fell.