Castle of Dreams (46 page)

“Well, madam,” he said, “I have a few free
moments to grant you before I am needed elsewhere. I hope you
wanted to see me to tell me you have repented of your crimes.”

“Tell me about Thomas,” Isabel said,
interrupting him. “Has he recovered from his illness? The guards
will tell me nothing.”

“Do not try to convince me you care about
Thomas’s welfare,” Guy scoffed. “I do not recall that you have ever
shown any concern for him before.”

“How could I? Because of him I was sent away
from court, to live alone, to bear him without family or friends
nearby.”

“He is your own son, madam. You seem to need
reminding of that fact.”

Isabel’s laugh was harsh. She started to say
something, then changed her mind and said something else.

“You don’t know what it was like, being
married to Lionel – the humiliation, the viciousness. He was an
abominable man, and I an innocent, trusting girl, prepared to love
my husband.” Isabel sniffed delicately, and Guy felt the irritation
he usually did when she began to cry. He spoke coldly, before she
could continue.

“There is no excuse for what you have done to
Thomas or to me and my friends, or most of all, against the king’s
interests,” he told her. “And you have ruined Walter. You used his
love for you to seduce him into breaking his knightly vows.”

“Walter.” Isabel shrugged with callous
indifference.

“Are we to assume your passion for Sir Walter
is finally spent?” Reynaud interjected quietly.

“He tricked me,” Isabel stated. Her voice was
expressionless, her shoulders drooping. “Why should I deny it now?
You probably know it all, anyway. The original plan was mine. I
showed Walter how he could become Baron of Afoncaer. You had been
rude to me, Guy, and insulted me, and kept me a near prisoner. I
wanted to pay you back for my damaged pride. I knew how much it
would hurt you to have to choose between Thomas and your loyalty to
the king. I never dreamed you would decide to hold Afoncaer over
Thomas’s life. And I swear to you, I did not know Walter would be
cruel enough to actually kill Thomas. That’s why I helped Meredith
to get Thomas away from Tynant. By then I knew if Thomas remained
in Walter’s hands he was doomed.”

“You misjudged both men,” Reynaud said, “and
nearly cost your son’s life as a result.”

“Be quiet!” Isabel turned on him, some of her
old spirit reviving. “I don’t need you to tell me what I’ve done.
And now I hate Walter, hate him! He lied to me and he has disgraced
me by failing. I will never be received at court again. Guy, you
will take me in, you will let me stay with you at Afoncaer, won’t
you? I have no place else to go. I am your sister-in-law, after
all, and you are the head of the family.”

“You ceased to be my sister, or my
responsibility, the day you married Walter,” Guy told her. “You
chose to marry him over my advice against your foolish passion, and
now you will share his fate.”

Isabel plainly thought Walter’s fate could
only mean one thing. Everyone knew what the penalty for treason
was.

“No! Guy, please, please, help me.” She would
have fallen to her knees, but he grabbed her elbows roughly and
held her upright. “I loved him, I did. I’m a poor, weak woman. Is
it my fault I was mistaken?”

“Love is unreal, a troubadour’s dream,” Guy
said, and saw that she was weeping, as he had known all along she
would do. He released her with a gesture of disgust.

“This forenoon I received a letter from King
Henry,” Guy told her, and watched her tears stop. She regarded him
fearfully. He had the feeling she was holding her breath. “His
majesty has sent me a copy of a document he now holds at
Westminster. The Earl of Chester has put his seal to it. The
document releases Walter fitz Alan from his oath of fealty to the
earl. Walter is now an unattached knight, charged with intent to
seize a licensed castle from a king’s baron.” Guy did not voice his
own deep revulsion at Chester thus detaching himself from his
vassal’s treachery. Guy knew the wily earl and had expected
something like this. Isabel gave a little gasp at the news but said
nothing.

“Ordinarily,” Guy went on, “Walter would be
sent to the White Tower in London to be tried before the king.
However, since Chester has convinced his majesty that this affair
is not a conspiracy against the king but rather a personal feud
with me as its object, King Henry has delegated me to judge the
case in his stead. Henry has written that he would prefer to have
Walter beheaded so he can cause no further trouble, but I am to
decide Walter’s punishment, and yours, using my own
discretion.”

Isabel did not make her usual protest that
the queen was her friend and would help her. She must have
understood by now that that dearly held belief was only a fantasy.
She stood quietly, still not speaking, her face a careful
blank.

“Would you like Reynaud to read you the
king’s letter?” Guy asked.

“That won’t be necessary. What will you do,
behead us both?”

“I thought I would leave that up to you,
Isabel. You recently gave me a bitter decision to make. Now I give
an equally harsh choice to you.”

“What choice?” He could tell from the stiff
way she spoke that she believed he was going to offer her a choice
of ways to die. He hardened his heart against her. She had caused
so much suffering, let her feel some pain now.

“Either Walter dies,” he said, watching her
flinch as he spoke the words, though she claimed to hate Walter,
“and you remain at Afoncaer for the rest of your life as a closely
confined prisoner, or Walter lives, but you must go with him into
permanent exile, and you will sign a document that Reynaud will
prepare, swearing never to see or communicate with Thomas again.”
As he spoke his nephew’s name, Guy knew he could not bear to have
her live at Afoncaer. His anger against her was so deep and strong
that at the first demand she made of him, or the first petty
quarrel she began between them, he would very likely strangle
her.

“Am I to be made responsible for my husband’s
death along with all the others? How many died at Tynant for my
pride’s sake?”

“Altogether, eighteen men and one woman,” Guy
said.

Isabel gave a deep sigh and was silent for a
while. Then, “Where would our exile be?”

“Walter’s brother Baldwin, acting on his own,
has spoken with King Henry, pleading for Walter’s life. He has
offered Walter a small holding on his lands in Brittany. If you go,
neither of you may ever return to England again, on pain of
death.”

“But there is France and Flanders and
Brabant.” Isabel’s face had taken on a livelier aspect. “It’s not
so harsh a prospect. I choose exile.”

“Even with a man you hate?”

“I hate Afoncaer more. To be its lady at
court is one thing. To be a prisoner here forever would be
unbearable. I would rather die.” Isabel shivered, then cast him a
sly look. “I can manage Walter. Even when he knew I had helped
Meredith to get Thomas away from him, angry as he was then, he
still desired me. Furthermore, his brother Baldwin is rich.”

“You will sign the document about
Thomas?”

“Of course, gladly. Walter will sign, too, if
you want. How long will this take? I want to leave this cursed
place as soon as possible.”

“Reynaud will draw up the document tomorrow.
The day after, there will be a formal ceremony at which you and
Walter will be charged and your punishment read publicly, after
which you will be escorted, under armed guard, to the nearest port
and thence to Brittany.”

“I suppose there must be this public
humiliation? You would not forego this ceremony?”

He could tell she had already pushed the last
few months into the past and was dreaming of social conquests in
Brabant or France. She would, of course, need new gowns paid for,
thank God, not by Guy of Afoncaer, but by Walter’s brother,
Baldwin.

“It’s better than a beheading,” he said, and
left her.

“Don’t be foolish, Meredith.” Guy, facing her
across the window recess, looked almost angry. They were in his
chamber, sitting on opposite sides of the western window niche, on
the silk cushions that padded the stone benches. Their knees were
nearly touching, but Meredith felt as though they were moving
steadily farther apart. Guy spoke again, still frowning at her.
“You cannot leave. Where would you go? Not back to the cave to live
alone?”

“No, I’ll never live there again, not with
Rhys and Branwen gone. Oh, Guy, I wish I could make you understand.
I’ve spent all my life learning to be a healer. How can I not do my
work? How can I neglect people who need my skills? If it is within
my power to help someone, I must do it.” Seized by inspiration, she
leaned toward him and went on eagerly. “Perhaps I can make you
understand. It is as if you, trained as you were for fourteen years
to be a knight, and still practicing with your weapons each day, as
I know you do, were suddenly told you could never again put on your
armor and mount your horse and ride out to answer your king’s
summons to war. It would drive you mad. You would soon cease to be
Guy.”

“It’s not the same thing.” His jaw clenched,
the scar along the left side of his jawbone showing white. “It’s
too dangerous for a woman to live alone, especially if she is
defying the law, as you would have to do. The old ways of this
country are more strictly prohibited now. Father Herbert is right
about that at least, if he is right about nothing else. Women are
not permitted to practice medicine. When I think of what could
happen to you if you persisted in such activities, I cringe with
fear for you.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then you have fewer wits than I thought.
Once you were protected by Rhys. Now you have no one. If you leave
Afoncaer and pursue this whim of yours, I cannot guarantee your
safety.”

“It is not a whim. It’s my life’s work.”

“Meredith, stay here,” He reached across the
space separating them, catching her hands and bending forward to
kiss her. She felt herself melting. She did not really want to
leave him. “Stay with me, please.”

“As your mistress?”

“I need you.”

“Were I a noblewoman, it would be different.”
She pulled away, just a little.

“If you were a noblewoman you would be aware
of what a woman can and cannot do. I will not allow you to leave
Afoncaer, and that’s the end of it.”

It was not the end. She would bring the
subject up over and over again until he understood that she must
go. For the moment she gave in, loving him and angry with him at
the same time. She knew she was foolish to stay even a little
longer. She should simply put on her cloak tomorrow or the next
day, and walk out the gate and disappear into the forest. If she
stayed it would always be like this – she would be his mistress,
nothing more, and she would be unable to do her work. But she loved
him, and when he put his arms around her and began kissing her and
led her to his bed, she went willingly, forgetting for the moment
everything but him.

For a day devoted to punishment it was oddly
beautiful. Guy squinted up at the early November sun as he stepped
from the great hall into the inner bailey. All work had stopped, or
rather, had never begun this morning, for the folk of Afoncaer
would not miss the unusual entertainment the day would provide.

On Guy’s left hand the tower keep rose square
and solid, completed except for some minor details that would be
finished during the winter months. The outer wall surrounding
Afoncaer and its town was finished, the higher wall around the
inner bailey was nearly done. A space in one corner between inner
wall and tower keep that had been designated for the new great hall
was clearly marked by the first course of stone for its walls, laid
only yesterday under Reynaud’s supervision. If the good weather
held, more stones would be laid before all masonry had to be
stopped for the winter.

Guy surveyed the men-at-arms lined up in the
inner bailey, and the common folk, masons, carpenters, village
folk, and farming villeins crowded behind them. He saw the castle
cook, cleaver in hand, waiting at one side of the bailey until he
was needed. Beside him was the blacksmith holding his heavy hammer.
At Guy’s right shoulder stood Reynaud, with a letter and a roll of
parchment in one hand. At his back Guy sensed Geoffrey leading the
two new squires, Robert and Kenelm, into their proper places.

Guy saw Meredith and smiled, then sighed as
Thomas appeared. He had thought the boy still too weak to attend
this difficult ceremony, but Thomas had insisted, claiming his
right as Guy’s heir, so here he was, clad in his best clothes and
his warm winter cloak. Guy knew Meredith was responsible for that
last detail, and he felt a warmth at his heart that superseded for
a few moments the unpleasantness still to come. Guy composed his
face into impassivity as the prisoners were led forth from their
rooms in the tower keep.

Isabel came first. Having made her choice,
and by that choice having banished her fear of imprisonment or
violent, untimely death, she apparently saw no reason to continue
to appear as a martyr or a nun. Her belongings had been brought to
her from Tynant and she had made the most of them. Her gown was
brilliant green, trimmed with bands of gold embroidery. Her cloak
was deep blue, her wimple of the sheerest gold-shot silk. Atop it
her gold circlet gleamed softly when the sun touched it. She
bestowed her most charming smile on the guard who told her where to
stand.

Alice and Margaret, both much more soberly
garbed and serious of face, stood directly behind their mistress
next to Father Herbert, who had rather unwillingly agreed, after a
firm hint from Guy to the effect that he was no longer welcome at
Afoncaer, that it was his duty to accompany Lady Isabel into
exile.