Anita Mills (39 page)

“Aye,” the captain answered hollowly. Taking the chain in his hands, he nudged Elizabeth gently. “Lady.”

It was not until they were again in the stairwell, away from the eyes of the others, that she halted. “I’d unbind my hair, Bevis—I’d be covered with that at least.”

“Aye.”

“Bevis?”

“Jesu—what? Tarry overlong, and they will come up also.”

Her hands worked quickly, tearing at the gold threads that wrapped around her braids, and then her fingers combed through her hair, pulling the rippling waves down over her breasts. “How did Ivo die?”

“His horse fell.”

“Why did you tell Reyner otherwise?”

There was a sharp intake of breath behind her, then he sighed heavily. “I wanted to punish him for what he did to Ivo,” he answered finally. “Lady, I am heartily sorry for this.”

“We will see him punished for it.”

“Bevis!” Reyner roared from below. “Get her to the wall!”

“Lady …”

“Aye.”

She walked with what little dignity she could muster, climbing the narrow, sloping, winding stairs to the top. The wind that whipped Giles’ standard caught her hair, lifting it as she emerged onto the wide wall. She closed her eyes against the sudden nausea she felt, then opened them again and looked down. Across the moat, sheltered by the trees, she could see Hob, Lang Gib, and another watching her. Wordlessly, Hob turned away and disappeared into the dense woods. The others dropped their eyes.

Giles emerged to stare upward as Reyner joined her and Bevis on the wall. Very deliberately, the count lifted the thick curtain of her hair to expose her naked body. Humiliated, she felt the rush of blood to her face.

“Behold the bitch you have bred!” Reyner shouted at him. “The collar fits her, do you not think?” Turning to Bevis, he ordered, “Cut her hair that he may see she is whole.”

But Bevis, feeling the snare tighten around himself, considered his chances of taking his lord. If Reyner had not held Elizabeth between them he would have attempted it, but the risk was too great. And if Reyner survived … he dared not think of his fate. Instead, the captain moved to the edge of the wall and looked down to the water below. And in that instant he made his decision. Before Reyner could stop him he plunged headlong over the side, parting the reeds to submerge himself in the murky water.

Cursing, Reyner dropped Elizabeth’s hair and leaned to call to his men-at-arms, “Kill the whore’s son! Man the arrow slits!”

Bevis came up beneath the garderobe, caught at gnarled tree roots growing into the ditch, and pulled himself out. Then, as a dozen archers tightened the springs to their crossbows, he scrambled toward the Scot.

“Have mercy, my lord! I am come from your lady!” he shouted.

Elizabeth could not hear what Giles said, but Bevis was led away. Suddenly Reyner, his face already dark, stiffened as though he’d been struck. A low, guttural oath escaped him as she followed his gaze, and her humiliation was forgotten.

“You have tarried overlong,” she told him triumphantly. “Behold the Hawk of Rivaux comes. You are lost, Reyner—lost.”

“Hold your tongue, else I’ll cut it from you,” he muttered, pacing along the wall, his eyes counting the ever-lengthening line of helmets moving like ants over the distant hills. “I am not done yet—I will send to Stephen.”

“And you think he will come?” she scoffed. “You yourself have said—”

He struck her hard in full view of Giles of Moray, then stood over her with clenched fists. “It matters not what I said! I can give him riches—aye, and I can aid him in breaking the Normans who stand against him, you fool! I can yet give him Guy of Rivaux!”

“The only fool on this wall is you,” she retorted, wiping her face.

“Nay, I will break them—all of them. When you are here for all to see, when you shiver in the rain and bake in the sun, they will know they cannot take me. You are my shield, Elizabeth, and here you will stay until Stephen comes.”

The import of his words sank in slowly. He was going to keep her chained like an animal to the tower above Wycklow’s walls. Every man jack with eyes would look on her and see what none but Giles had the right to gaze upon. And in that moment of realization she hated him as much as he hated her.

“When you are taken, Reyner,” she said evenly, “I will ask that you be killed with deliberation. I’d have you separated from life as my grandsire would have done.”

“Roger of Harlowe? Nay, but he had not the stomach to mete out a cruel death.”

“Nay. The other one—the Devil of Belesme.” As if to emphasize her words she held out her arm, examining where his hand had bruised it. “And do not think men call my husband Butcher without reason.” As she spoke her cold green eyes met his, sending a shiver through him. “Aye, Reyner, you will pay.”

Giles watched the wall with an impotent fury. It was not until Bevis of Lyons climbed out of the moat that he could be brought to tear his eyes away from Elizabeth. Then, ordering that the man of Eury be cleaned of the mud that clung to him, Giles turned his attention again to his wife.

The wind caught her long black hair, lifting it away from her face, and although he could not make out her features in the distance, he knew what her pride must be suffering. After Reyner left her she leaned forward, bowing her head that her hair might cover her nakedness. In another Giles would have taken the gesture for one of submission or despair, but not in Elizabeth. Her pride might allow her fear, but never cowardice.

It was he who despaired, for he’d been unable to keep Reyner from taking her, and he’d failed to persuade the count to give her up. Now he waited in uncertainty for Guy of Rivaux, who might well take her from him also. She raised her face to look again to where he stood, and he lifted his hand in salute. Nay, but no matter what happened after, he’d get her out.

“My lord, we are approached,” Lang Gib murmured at his back.

He swung around. “How many?”

“Too many to count—and they wear the red of Rivaux.”

Holy Jesu and the Blessed Virgin. So Count Guy came. It was as though his heart paused, for he knew not what would happen when they were met here, before the walls of Wycklow.

“My lord,” Hob cut in, “the fellow would speak with you.”

“Aye,” Giles answered, his throat almost too tight for speech. He turned back to where the fellow still wiped mud and refuse from his face. “How is it that Eury let fly his arrows on you?” he asked curtly.

“I escaped ere he could kill me.” There was that in the cold black eyes that watched him that made Bevis think of Elizabeth of Rivaux. Summoning his courage, he blurted out, “She would have me tell you to send to her brother—to send to Rivaux of Celesin at Harlowe. She says he is there.”

“Giles’ eyes narrowed. “How is it that she knows that?” he demanded. “She cannot know.”

“She came from there.” Bevis licked his lips nervously, not wanting to sound foolish, then he blurted out, “And she also would have me tell you that there is no shame in loving you. She said you would recognize it for a sign,” he added hopefully.

“Aye.” Once again Giles looked to the wall above them, seeing her sitting there, her hair streaming over her shoulders to disappear behind the safety ledge. And despite his fears for her, he felt a surge of anger in the discovery that she’d defied him. She’d gone to Harlowe.

And he wondered: Did she think she had to offer him this to make him stand for her? Or did she truly recant the words she’d flung at him at Dunashie? Or had she hopes of appeasing his temper when he discovered what she’d done? He could not know, not until he faced her later.

Abruptly, he looked again to Bevis. “Aye,” he said tersely. Then, “How fares my brother?”

“The big one? He took an arrow in the Lady Elizabeth’s defense, but unless the wound festers he will mend.”

“If he is harmed further there will not be a Eury man to leave mine lands alive. By the Rood of God, I swear it.” His eyes bore into those of Bevis. “How came you to serve such a man as Reyner?”

“I have but been with him since the Lord Ivo died. Ere then, I served the son.” Bevis dropped the linen cloth and rose to face Giles. “There is something else I’d say, my lord.”

“Say it.”

“Reyner of Eury is mad.”

Once again Giles’ gaze strayed to the wall. “Aye,” he agreed grimly. “I’d not dispute it.”

“And if Stephen does not aid him, I think he will kill her.”

“My lord, the outriders from Harlowe are come,” someone cut in hurriedly. “Do you greet them?”

Giles favored Bevis with a twisted smile. “Elizabeth need not have asked, for I have already sent to Harlowe for Count Guy.”

“My lord …” The captain hesitated, uncertain whether to ask the lord of Dunashie’s favor just yet, and yet afraid if he did not, he would be forgotten.

“What?”

“I am without service now. Count Reyner will have all I hold of him, making me a penniless man with a wife and son.” He could see the impatience in Giles’ face, so he rushed on to ask, “Would you speak of me to Rivaux?”

A derisive snort escaped from the border lord. “Nay. My commendation would be more like to get you hanged with me. Speak for yourself, if ’tis your will.”

The first riders came into the clearing and reined in. A tall knight, his surcoat blazoned with the black hawk of Rivaux, dismounted, asking, “Where is Giles of Moray?” As he spoke he tossed his reins to Hob, with the assurance of one used to being obeyed. “Tell him Rivaux is come.” His eyes traveled over the silent Scots until they reached Giles. “Art he, I think, for you look to be the only one tall enough for Liza to favor.”

One of Giles’ black brows lifted. “Liza?”

“My sister.” Richard strode to face him. “I am Rivaux of Celesin, come to answer your call to arms.”

The two men stared, each measuring the other against his reputation, then the knight pushed off his heavy helmet to reveal thick black hair that reminded Giles of Elizabeth’s, and handed it to one of those who’d ridden in with him. Despite the deep impression left on his face by the nasal, Richard of Rivaux bore an astonishing resemblance to his sister. But the eyes were different: where Elizabeth’s were green, her brother’s were brown flecked with gold. Incredibly, he smiled.

“Aye. Though I am the elder by some years, we look as though we could have shared the womb together.” After he removed his heavy gloves, he took another step forward until he was directly before Giles. “Canst do naught but gape, Sir Scot? Afore God, but is this how you would greet one who has ridden night and day to aid you? Am I the only one to cry peace between us?” he demanded.

He even spoke with the same arrogant assurance as Elizabeth. Giles hesitated but briefly, then clasped him by the arms, leaning to give him the ceremonial kiss. “Peace,” he choked out, overwhelmed that Richard of Rivaux accepted him.

The irony of it was not lost on Elizabeth’s brother. His hands closed on Giles’ shoulders briefly as he brushed the other man’s cheek with his lips. Standing back, he nodded. “Aye, peace that we may make war together. I came in all haste, bringing but what I had at Harlowe, but the machines and pitch vats come after. At least I thought to bring tents.” His eyes scanned the defenses of Wycklow without betraying his contempt for it. “He holds her there? Sweet Mary, but I know not if we will need the sap even.” Then he saw her, and his jaw gaped momentarily. “Mother of God, but I will hang him for the insult he offers her!” he promised when he found his voice. “ ’Tis not to be borne—I’ll take his miserable life for this!”

Giles’ jaw tightened as he stared upward, and he shook his head. “Nay,” he said tersely. “He is mine alone to take. And anger serves us nothing now. Before all else, I’d have her safe.”

On the instant, Richard was all business. “Aye. Do you know how many Reyner has there?”

“My lord, he has fifty-eight men now, thirty-five of whom are mounted knights, twenty archers, two heralds—and the Count of Eury himself,” Bevis answered.

“Eh? Sweet Jesu, but who is this? Knave, you stink of offal,” Richard complained.

“He comes from inside by way of the moat,” Giles explained.

“Your man?”

“Reyner’s. What of those I left here?” Giles asked Bevis suddenly. “How many survive?”

“Reyner hanged one, and there is the bastard wounded. The rest are but disarmed and confined with the rats in the storerooms.”

“ ’Twould seem that they did not mount much resistance,” Richard observed sarcastically.

“As ’twas done by ruse, there was not a fight. When ’twas discovered that the lady was not there, my lord of Eury professed great friendship for her, saying she had been his dear daughter by marriage, and he’d come with your blessing to visit her there.”

“Jesu! And Willie let him in?” Giles demanded incredulously.

“The giant with the red hair? Nay, he was at Harlowe with Elizabeth,” Richard answered for Bevis. He looked again to the wall where Elizabeth sat chained, and he grimaced. “ ’Tis as well Papa does not see this, for he would dispute your right to take Reyner of Eury.” Shading his eyes against the sun, he studied again the weak defenses, then asked, “What does Eury expect from this?”

Again it was Bevis who answered. “He would deliver Count Guy to Stephen that he may have Rivaux itself. He says he has knowledge that will bring Count Guy down—that Rivaux has not the right to rule his lands. He claims he possesses proof, my lord.” Then, perceiving that the younger Rivaux’s hand rested on his sword hilt, he protested, “Nay, but ’tis not true—’tis but his madness that tells him so.”

There was a momentary dread within him, a seeming pause of heart, then Richard shook it off. Exhaling, he turned to Giles. “Well, ’tis no matter what he thinks to do, I suppose. He is caught out as a wolf separated from pack and lair, and he’ll not live to tell the tale.”

“He sends to Stephen,” Bevis added. “He tells him that Count Guy comes, and he hopes ’twill be enough to make the king aid him here.”

That brought forth a derisive snort. “Then he is an even greater fool than I have thought him, for Stephen will not face my father. If he cannot bribe and smile, he will do nothing and hope. Were it not for his queen, the Empress and Gloucester would already be marching on London. When Stephen cannot be all things to all men, he is nothing.” Richard’s face sobered. “Well, what would you that we did whilst we wait?” he asked Giles. “Would you that I treat with him? I will tell him that if he does not take her down from there, he’ll not live to leave this forsaken pile.”