Winter Song (3 page)

Chapter Two

Raymond dismissed Lucie from his mind as swiftly as she had
intruded upon it. In spite of his words of assurance to his father, he was not
looking forward to the coming interview with his mother. However, he had the
evidence of her obedience to his firm orders last night and this morning to
reinforce Alys’s earlier advice. If he faltered or showed weakness or sympathy,
Alys had warned, he would be defeated. Thus, he strode into the solar with a
tight mouth and an angry frown and thrust Eleanor’s and Sancia’s letters at
her.

“Here, madame,” he announced, “are letters from the queen of
England and the Countess of Cornwall recommending to you Alys of Marlowe, whom
I intend to marry as soon as I return to England. I already have my father’s
agreement. The scribes are writing a contract, so do not bother to raise
objections.”

His treatment had the good effect of shocking his three
auditors into silence. The sobbings over his cruelty were choked off by the
enormity of the news and the new offense. One thing Lady Jeannette had long
been determined upon was the choosing of her son’s wife to suit herself.

“Who?” she gasped. “Who is this Alys? Where is Marlowe?”

“Alys is my betrothed,” Raymond replied. “Marlowe is a town
on the Thames in England, midway between Windsor and Oxford. Do you know more
now?”

All three gaped at him, his mother and Jeanine in horror and
growing rage. His younger sister Margot also knew she should be offended, but
she was really more interested in Alys, who, she hoped, would add a little
variety to her life. It was
very
dull in Tour Dur. Margot had hoped that
she would become “eldest” daughter when Jeanine went away to be married two
years ago. But Jeanine’s husband had died, she had returned home since she had
not produced any child, and Margot was again pushed into the background.

That might have been an enviable position in a keep where
many highborn maidens were raised and trained. Under such circumstances, being “last
and least” provided freedom for fun and mischief. Aix should have had just such
a group of
demoiselles.
Many of the lesser knights would gladly have
sent their daughters to be trained. Lady Jeannette, however, said she was not
strong enough, that she could barely manage her own daughters. The trouble was,
Margot thought, that her mother was strong enough not to let her stray more
than an arm’s length from her skirt.

“Read the letters,” Raymond was urging. “They will tell you
more about Alys than I have time to relate.”

“But Raymond,” Lady Jeannette wailed, having caught her
breath and gathered her thoughts, “you cannot marry a girl from England. We do
not need ties to England. And what do you mean you have no time? You have just
come!”

“Yes, and I will leave again as soon as Father and I decide
which Gascon property we wish augmented. I believe it will be possible to have
Alys’s dower settled in Gascony. Her father is marshal to Richard of Cornwall
and has great influence with the earl.”

“Is that what decided you to marry this girl?” Lady
Jeannette asked.

Then Raymond made a serious mistake. “No,” he replied, his
voice softening. “No. I would have taken Alys barefoot in a shift, if I could
have got her no other way. I love her—”

“That is ridiculous!” Jeanine interrupted, jumping up. “Do
you think you are living in the pages of a romance? Or has this little slut
withheld—”

Raymond slapped her face. “You will not speak of Lady Alys
in such terms,” he snarled. “Alys will be mistress of Aix some day, and there
is no woman in the world better fit to hold that place—or any other.”

Jeanine began to scream, and Raymond slapped her again,
harder, thumping her down on her stool, and threatening to give her something
truly worth screaming about if she did not hold her tongue. Margot began to
whimper in sympathy, but she choked off all sound when Raymond turned his glare
upon her. Then he looked at his mother.

“Well, madame,” he growled, “what have you to say?”

“You have been among barbarians,” Lady Jeannette whispered, “and
have come back a monster.”

“Whatever you like, so long as you hold your tongue and treat
my wife with the respect due her.”

“And what of the respect due to me from my son and my son’s
wife?” Lady Jeannette quavered.

“You need not fear that,” Raymond assured her in happy
ignorance. “Alys has been properly brought up. You will find her a most dutiful
daughter. I am sure you will come to love her. Indeed, it is impossible not to
love Alys.”

To that ridiculous statement, Lady Jeannette made no reply
except a faint smile of combined bitterness and derision. Her son misread the
expression completely and bent swiftly to kiss her. “There,” he remarked, “now
that you understand the matter of my marriage to Alys is settled and will not
argue with me, I can say I am very glad to see you again.” He turned to Margot
and kissed her also. “You are looking very pretty, my sweet, and next to Alys
you will look even prettier. She is very blonde and will set off your dark eyes
to perfection.” Finally he stepped around his mother and stood before Jeanine. “I
will forget what you said and forgive you,” he remarked quietly, “if you will
be careful of your tongue in the future.”

“I will never forgive you,” Jeanine hissed. “How dare you!”

Raymond’s face tightened. “If you wish to be angry with me,
Jeanine, I do not care. Just remember that if you offend Alys, I will punish
you in a way that will make this seem like a kiss of love.”

She sniffed, and he raised his hand again. The sniffles
stopped abruptly. Lady Jeannette had absorbed Raymond’s mistake and this byplay
with his sister in silence. She was not clever but not completely a fool,
either. Years of getting her way with a weak husband had led her to misjudge
her son’s character. He was gentle and loving rather than weak and had a strong
desire to do what was right. This had led him to yield dutifully to his father’s
orders—thus, indirectly to his mother’s—until he was driven too far. But Lady
Jeannette did not realize that yet.

She had no intention at all of accepting Raymond’s marriage
to Alys, however, she had come to understand that her usual methods could not
be used. It would be necessary to be more subtle and devious to separate her
son from this succubus that had bewitched him. There was no use weeping and
lamenting. The first step toward persuading her son had been taken by accident,
but now Jeannette knew where she was going. Slowly she opened the letters
Raymond had handed to her and pretended to peruse the contents while she
planned what to say. She could really read the letters later. They might offer
a hint as to how to deal with the girl herself.

But first she would try to delay that necessity or end it
completely. Jeannette raised her eyes from Sancia’s letter and smiled
tremulously. “Indeed, Alys sounds to be a delightful girl.”

The remark was rewarded by an embrace from Raymond and a
kiss. “She is,” he agreed.

“Yes, and virtuous, too, so I do not see why it is necessary
to hurry back to England so fast. Surely Alys will be faithful, and surely she
would not be so cruel as to deny your mother and sisters a few weeks of your
company.”

“Alys will be faithful,” Raymond replied impatiently, “but
it is the end of October. Here it is still summer, but north it is growing
cold. If I spend the few weeks you speak of here, there will be snow in the
mountains—”

“Oh, not so soon,” Lady Jeannette said, “and even if it
should fall early, it will melt. You look so tired, my poor darling, and you
are so thin. You must stay here and regain your strength. God alone knows what
you were eating among those barbarians.”

“The food is barbarous enough,” Raymond agreed to pacify his
mother since he had no intention of agreeing to anything else she asked.

Actually Raymond had come to enjoy the large self-flavored
roasts that were so much a part of the English diet. Here in the south the meat
spoiled so much faster that it was necessary always to cook it more thoroughly
if it was not eaten fresh-killed. Thorough cooking meant cutting the meat into
smaller pieces fit for stewing, and flavoring it more strongly to disguise the
taste of spoilage.

“Ah!” Lady Jeannette cried. “I will have all your favorite
dishes prepared.”

“As many as possible for today’s dinner,” Raymond laughed, “for
I will not be here tomorrow.”

“What! But you just said—”

“Tomorrow I must ride to Grandfather and obtain his
approval.”

“You? Why should you ride there? Have we no messengers?”

“Mother, I have said already that I am in great haste. I do
not wish to cross the Alps when the passes are covered with snow, nor sail the
narrow sea in the teeth of a winter gale.”

“Then wait for spring, my beloved boy. Of course you will
wait for spring. Whoever heard of a marriage contracted in such a hurry? One
would think that the lady feared waiting lest—”

Raymond had been thinking exasperatedly that King Henry and
Earl Richard might have already quarreled and that he would be too slow with
the wings of a bird, but he knew from past experience that it was useless to mention
such practicalities to his mother. She would either say with false soothing
that she
knew
the king and his brother would not quarrel, or else she
would say that the whole thing was unimportant and there would be another
opportunity. Then the sense of what she was saying came to him.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, angry at her innuendo that Alys
might be with child.

“Well, why the haste if she has nothing to hide?” Jeanine
hissed.

Raymond turned on her, and she shrank back. He bowed stiffly
to his mother. “Then I will say farewell, madame. I will see you again when my
bride stands beside me.”

“No! No!” Lady Jeannette cried. “I never meant such a thing.
I… But Raymond, it will be thought odd. Even your grandfather will think… Wait!
If you
must
fly back, if you cannot bear to be parted—”

“You have it right at last,” Raymond interrupted coldly. “It
is
I
who am in haste, not Alys.”

“But Raymond, your haste does not look well for the lady.
No, I know you would not choose a girl about whom there could be any doubt, but
here, so far from her own place, no one knows her. What will be said—?”

“I will answer with my fist or my sword!
Nothing
will
be said to or about Alys.”

Lady Jeannette swallowed and shrank a trifle. It was most unlikely
that anyone would say anything about
anything
while Raymond wore that
expression. She had not known her son’s face could look so cold and hard, so
dangerous
.
Plainly the idea of keeping him at home day by day until his interest in the
blonde slut faded would not work. However, there was another way.

“If you would only allow me to finish a sentence, my heart,”
Lady Jeannette quavered. “I only want the best for you and your sweet Alys. All
I wished to say was that if you are in such haste, we will have the marriage
here
.
That would be best. All our vassals should be invited to the wedding of the
heir. They would be
so
disappointed to miss such a celebration.”

“Hmmm,” Raymond responded. For the first time his mother had
said something really sensible, he thought. It was true that the vassals would
be disappointed. They would resent paying the
aide
owed for his marriage
if they were not offered some compensation. Also, the marriage would serve as
another opportunity to exact fresh oaths of homage to his father and to himself
as heir. That was important. Raymond did not think his father was likely to die
soon, nor that young Alphonse would try to usurp his position, but it was a
very uncertain world and a good idea indeed to have the men swear fealty
directly to him. That would eliminate one more loophole for betrayal.