Castle of the Heart (34 page)

‘Thomas,” cried the young earl of Chester,
“well met but late, my friend. We’ve missed you. Where have you
been?”

“Gathering up my wife,” Thomas replied.
“She’s aboard already. May I introduce her to your lady?” He bowed
over the extended hand of the countess of Chester.

“Certainly. I’ve heard you will be staying at
court for a while. We must go hunting together one day. We should
become better friends, Thomas. You and I can be of use to each
other on the Welsh border.” The earl clapped Thomas on the
shoulder. “Here comes Captain Fitz Stephen. Are we ready to
sail?”

“We might better wait for the morning, my
lord.” Captain Thomas Fitz Stephen frowned as he surveyed the noisy
troop of nobles crowding toward the gangplank. He’d had
The
White Ship
built by his own shipwrights to his special design,
as a gift for King Henry. He was proud of her and had no desire to
risk his beautiful creation to the dangers of the night sea. “Where
is William Atheling?”

“I am here, Sir Captain, and I’m ready to
sail,” replied King Henry’s eldest son. He had been drinking and
his cheerful face was flushed, his eyes bright, as he walked a
little unsteadily toward the gangplank.

“But my lord, we should wait until daylight,”
Captain Fitz Stephen urged. “It would be safer.”

“Nonsense. We are all gathered together at
last. It has taken us the entire day to reach the dock,” William
exclaimed merrily. “Who knows if we would get here at all tomorrow?
I would not even vouch for myself. Where is my father the
king?”

“Sailed before you, my lord. He grew
impatient with waiting,” Captain Fitz Stephen responded, casting a
doubtful look at the Atheling’s companions.

“What, gone? Then we’ll go after him.”
William laughed. “I am seized by a delightful idea, good captain.
You have boasted this new ship of yours can out-sail any other. We
will test it, and you. Let’s see if we can overtake my father. A
purse of golden coins for you, and all the wine your crew can
drink, if we are in England to greet King Henry when he steps
ashore.”

A cheer went up from William’s companions at
this challenge.

“My lord, I am at your service.” Captain Fitz
Stephen knew well enough not to argue too long with royalty.

“Follow me,” William called to his friends.
“Board the ship!”

In the near stampede that followed, Thomas
rescued the countess of Perche just as she was teetering on the
edge of the gangplank. As more young men and women crowded toward
the ship, he found the countess of Chester clinging to his other
arm. Realizing that while he was completely sober, they were not,
he politely guided them both aboard and then toward the center of
the main deck of
The White Ship,
where Selene awaited
him.

Thomas, himself serious of mind and
abstemious in eating and drinking, was amused by the carnival
atmosphere surrounding these young courtiers. He knew if the need
came again, the men would once more ride into battle with the same
high spirits they had shown in the war with France. If they must,
they would die for King Henry’s cause. Why not, then, enjoy the
sweetness of their lives while they could? As for the women, they
faced arranged marriages with unknown men, death in childbirth, and
incurable diseases with a bravery equal to that of the men. Though
most of them appeared frivolous on the surface, their underlying
courage in the face of life’s dangers touched his tolerant heart.
Thomas could not find it in himself to condemn their sometimes
childish or licentious revelries. No one among them had ever
condemned him for not participating in them. He had found good
friends at King Henry’s court and in his army, among them the
husbands of the two women he led across the crowded deck toward his
own wife. Selene already knew the countess of Perche, and was
pleased to meet Chester’s wife. The earl and his brother joined
them soon after.

“Food,” laughed Chester, plucking a roasted
capon off one of the tables set up nearby. “Let us eat while we
may. Who knows what will befall our stomachs once we reach the
rough waters outside the harbor?” He tore the bird apart in his
hands, distributing pieces of the meat to those standing near him.
“Sweet, white breast for you, my lady wife, in honor of your own, a
juicy thigh for my lady of Perche, a wing for you, Lady Selene,
that you may fly ever higher in this world, and for you, sir,”
turning to a rather effeminate young knight, “for you, the back, a
most appropriate piece of flesh.”

Raucous laughter greeted this comment and was
joined in by the knight himself, who instead of being offended
threw one arm across the earl’s shoulders, raised his winecup and
toasted his friend in a long, confused speech.

“More wine here.” That was William Atheling,
moving about the deck and courteously seeing to the needs of
friends and guests. “Let us have music and dancing. And you there,
open a few casks for the crew. They’ll row the faster for a bit of
wine in their bellies. Tell them, good Captain Fitz Stephen, there
will be more wine for them in England. And for God’s sake, cast
off. Let’s be on our way. We’ll never overtake the king if we stay
all night at dockside.”

“It will be nearly another hour before we can
leave, my lord,” Captain Fitz Stephen replied. “There is a new load
of baggage yet to come aboard, and a few stragglers from your own
party. But have no fear, sir, we’ll crack on all the sail we have,
and with the rowers working besides, we’ll easily outrace the
king.”

“I’m depending on you,” William said. “Come,
Lady Selene, will you dance with me? I trust I have your
permission, Thomas?”

At Thomas’s nod, Selene curtsied, blushing
prettily at the honor, and went off with the earl and countess of
Chester, leaving Thomas standing alone next to the earl of
Chester’s brother.

“By heaven, I nearly forgot in all this
confusion,” Sir Ottuel cried, striking his forehead with one hand.
“Thomas, forgive me, I am truly a dunce. There’s a man on the dock
who wants to speak with you. He says it’s important.”

“I thought my people were all aboard,” Thomas
said. “Did he give his name?”

“I don’t think it’s one of your men. I’ve
seen your servants, and his clothing is not like theirs. He gave me
no name, but said it had to do with Afoncaer.”

“Did he mention my Uncle Guy, or Lady
Meredith?” All Thomas could think of was the horrible possibility
that Guy, or one of the others he loved at Afoncaer, was sick or
dead. What if Guy’s wounds had reopened and felled him all these
months later? Or might the Welsh have made another attack? “I
should never have left them,” he muttered.

“The man mentioned no names,” Ottuel said,
“but he’s still there, see, in the grey cloak standing by those
casks. You have plenty of time to speak to him before we sail, and
if aught is amiss at Afoncaer, you could have no faster transport
back to England than this ship. We’ve a little room left, I think.
If he’s from Afoncaer, bring him aboard with you. William won’t
mind.”

“I wonder he did not come aboard himself to
find me. I see my wife is still dancing. Should she ask for me,
will you tell her I’ll rejoin her as soon as I can?”

“Gladly. I’ll ask her to dance myself, if
William will give her up.”

The man waiting on the dock was a smooth,
black-haired fellow with eyes that did not look directly at the
person he spoke to, and Thomas knew at once he was not from
Afoncaer.

“What is your business with me?” Thomas
demanded, one hand on his sword hilt, prepared for treacherous
attack.

“There’s no need for that, my lord,” the dark
man said, shifty eyes following the motion of Thomas’s hand. “I’ve
not come to take your life, only to plead for your presence. Your
lady mother is desperately ill and like to die this night. She
charged me to beg you, on my knees before all the Atheling’s court
if I must, to let me take you to her. She would ask your
forgiveness for her sins against you before she dies.”

“I cannot go to her,” Thomas said. “She is
bound by the documents she sealed on the day she left Afoncaer. She
may not contact me or see me.”

“That can scarcely matter once she’s dead,
can it?” the man asked. “Would you deny the last wish of your dying
mother? Will you not give her the forgiveness she so desperately
wants, and send her peacefully into the next life?”

“She is truly contrite?” Thomas did not know
what to think. Selene had said days ago that Isabel wanted to see
him, and he had refused, though in his heart he had wanted to go to
her. Had she perhaps been ill even then? It was possible she had
changed after so many years, and really was sorry for what she had
done in the past. He believed she had always loved him. He
hesitated, torn and uncertain what to do. The messenger saw his
confusion.

“My lord, she is desperate for your
presence,” the man insisted, adding, “I came here alone, but I have
brought extra horses with me in case you wish to take your own men
with you. We need only mount and ride.”

Thomas still hesitated, but he discounted the
idea of treachery, since he would indeed take several of his own
men along. They would be well armed and alert.

“She is at her house near Dol?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” the messenger said.

“Too far for me to ride there and back and
still sail with William as I should. And yet, if she is really
dying, I may regret all my life that I did not take this last
chance to see her.”

“Just so, my lord. Lady Isabel was certain
you would feel that way, and confident you would not fail her.
Consider that the Atheling would not be angry with you for leaving
him under such circumstances.”

“Wait here for me,” Thomas said, making his
choice.

He hurried back aboard
The White Ship.
He met Selene by the gangplank, her face flushed with wine and
dancing, her eyes shining. She wore a deep wine-red gown belted in
gold, a gold net on her hair, and she was exquisitely beautiful.
She took his hand to pull him into the throng on deck.

“I thought you had deserted me,” she cried.
“We are ready to sail. We are going to a new life, Thomas, where I
will do all I can to make you happy. I swear it. Come and dance
with me.”

When he told her what the messenger had said,
all the glow went out of her face, and she stood before him, white
and haggard.

“No, Thomas, you can’t go to her. Stay here
with me.”

“How could I do that, laugh and dance and
drink my way across the Narrow Sea while my mother lies dying? I
must go to her. I’m surprised at you, Selene. Only a few days ago
you were urging me to visit her.”

“She’s evil. I saw it at my last visit with
her. Stay away from her, Thomas, I beg you.”

“She has repented of her evil and wants my
forgiveness. The messenger said so. You will come with me,
Selene.”

“No! No, she doesn’t want to see me again.
It’s you she wants to speak with.”

Thomas, although surprised at Selene’s
vehemence, agreed with her after only a moment’s reflection. He
knew from what the messenger had said that he should make haste. He
did not want to tarry long enough to have all their belongings and
the servants disembarked and to make provisions for them to stay at
Barfleur until he returned, and if he insisted that Selene go with
him she would only delay him. He could ride much faster without
her.

“There is no time to discuss this,” he said.
“I must leave at once if I’m to reach Dol while my mother still
lives. Perhaps it’s just as well that you do stay on board. I’ll
take Benet for squire and two men-at-arms for guards. The rest of
our people and our baggage I leave in your charge. When you reach
England, go to court as we had planned and remain there until I
join you. I’ll see to my mother’s last wishes and attend to her
funeral, and when it’s over I’ll sail to England. From what the
messenger said, it won’t be very long, a day or two at most. I pray
she lives until I get there.”

“Thomas, don’t leave me.” Selene put her arms
around his waist, laying her head on his chest. “Please stay with
me. I love you, dear husband.”

He held her briefly, thinking how sad it was
that she should say she loved him after he had ceased to love her
at all, and wondering if she really meant it. Then he took her
slender shoulders in his hands and set her gently aside.

“If you love me, do as I wish,” he said.
“Tell William what has happened. I don’t have time to search him
out in this crowd. See to all my belongings, my goods and my
people, and especially to yourself, Selene, and I will join you at
court as soon as I can.”

She reached toward him once more, clutching
at his sleeve.

“I will obey, my lord. Will you kiss me
before you go? Just one last kiss.”

He bent his head and her arms crept around
his neck. She pressed her body against him, but he did not embrace
her. His mouth was on hers, and he felt her lips open under his,
her tongue searching across his lips. Thomas did not, could not,
respond to her. He reached up and caught her wrists, unlocking them
from the back of his neck and holding her away from him.

“I trust you to carry out my orders,” he
said, and turned to leave the ship.

Selene watched him go, feeling fear beyond
anything she had known before. What good were all her intentions of
winning back Thomas’s affections and making herself into a perfect
nobleman’s wife if Isabel ruined everything by confessing to Thomas
all the things she and Selene had done? Was Isabel really sick? She
had appeared to be in perfect health a few days ago. Perhaps the
message was a ruse. If it was, its purpose could only be to lead
Thomas face to face with his mother, where she would betray Selene
and tell all. Dying or healthy, Isabel would surely do Selene
irreparable harm. And there was no way she could stop whatever
Isabel planned, for after much delay, the lines had finally been
cast off and
The White Ship
began to move out into the
harbor.