Forbidden Love (13 page)

Roanna was deeply relieved to see that despite the ferocious fighting and the nearness of defeat, few of the stronghold's forces had actually been killed. Far more of the Normans had fallen once Colin and his men arrived to turn the tide of the battle.

Her relief deepened as she spied Brenna standing safe within the circle of her husband's arms. She looked bruised and disheveled, but otherwise unhurt Beside her on the ground lay the body of a Norman attacker, the ceremonial dagger protruding from his throat.

The combined effects of terror and relief proved overwhelming. Roanna's thick lashes fluttered against her amber eyes as a tiny sigh escaped her. Nestling into the iron warmth of Colin's chest, she yielded to his care.

Gazing down at her, his silvery eyes darkened with profound worry. The victory was as ashes in his mouth as he was forced to recognize that it would not be long before another Norman tried to take his lands . . . and another . . . and another.

If he did manage to kill them all, he would only have established himself as a major threat to the new regime and invited an all-out assault that would drench his lands in blood.

For the first time in his life, Colin felt the keen edge of despair. The future that a few days before had appeared infinitely bright now seemed to promise only pain and death.

His proud head bent as his arms tightened spasmodically around all that he cherished most in the world. Silently he vowed to find some way to keep her safe, no matter what the cost.

L
ondon was not at all as Roanna had expected. The city Brenna and Guyon had described as a prosperous, vital center of trade and commerce was instead a filthy, crowded, sullen blot on the landscape.

Glancing round at the morass of jostling men and women, straining horses, and creaking carts, she shook her head wearily. Everyone seemed in a great hurry to get somewhere, but their grim faces indicated they were less than certain what they would find when they arrived. A cloud of uncertainty hung over the city made all the worse by the somber grayness of the heat-laden sky.

With no rain in several weeks, the narrow streets stank from the accumulation of trash and waste. In the days of King Edward and during most of King Harold's brief reign, the capital was kept fairly clean. But now in the chaos of the new order even such fundamental services as collecting the bodies of the dead and disposing of stray animal carcasses had broken down. Roanna was appalled as much by what she smelled as what she saw.

The swift journey from the Algerson stronghold had tired her. Nights spent sleeping on the ground and rising after only a few hours to move on left her spent and aching. She was dirty, hungry, and distinctly out of sorts. But not for the world would she let Colin see her discomfort Especially not when she was there on sufferance, against his better judgment, which had urged him to leave her at home.

Their "discussion" about that still rankled. Once the last remnants of the battle were cleared away and the traitors who had opened the gates were executed, it was quickly decided that Colin must present his case to William himself if he was to have any hope of retaining his lands.

"The King is a reasonable man," Guyon had claimed. "He knows he can't possibly replace all the native lords, nor does he wish to. As long as you can convince him of your loyalty, he will be likely to accept you."

"Even though I killed DeBourgnon?" Colin asked skeptically.

"Even so. William respects strength above all. In his eyes, you will only have proven your worthiness to rule by slaying the man he sent to replace you. Once he's assured you have no argument with him, he will give you no further trouble."

Colin was doubtful. Part of him wanted nothing to do with the new sovereign, but another, far wiser side warned that he could not wage a one-man crusade against the inevitable. At least not without destroying himself and all those dearest to him.

Pride was a hard taskmaster, but honor proved stronger. His obligations to his people demanded that he at least try to make peace with the Norman.

"Very Well, I will go to London. And do my damnedest to convince William I am not his enemy." A slight smile softened the hard line of his mouth. "I don't envy you. You will have to guard both our lands while I am gone."

The calmness with which he said this was an eloquent indication of the new relationship between them. In the days since their two families had been joined by marriage, and in particular since they had fought side by side against DeBourgnon's forces, Colin had come round to accepting the fact that he could trust and rely on his brother-in-law without reserve. Guyon felt the same way. The differences separating their two peoples were forgotten as they prepared to present a united front against those who dared to oppose either of them.

More softly, Colin added, "Keep Roanna safe for me.

Guyon surprised him by grinning mischievously. He glanced toward his sister, who had abruptly broken off her conversation with Brenna and was glaring at them. Glad that it was not he who provoked her ire, her brother settled back to watch.

"Am I a child, to be left in another's care?"

Colin frowned, perplexed by the angry glints in her amber eyes and the sudden haughtiness of her manner.

"No, of course not. But I thought naturally you would prefer to remain here."

He didn't add that she was only just beginning to recover from the effects of near-rape. The bruises he saw each night on her honeyed skin filled him with rage he barely managed to conceal. Holding her in his arms as she drifted to sleep, he lay awake long hours wishing DeBourgnon was still alive so that he might kill him again and again.

"You were wrong. My place is at your side."

The flat certainty of this statement made Colin's eyebrows arch, '"Your place," he reminded her firmly, "is for me to decide."

Before Roanna could reply, his sister-in-law interrupted. Gently, she said, "Guyon, why don't you tell Colin what happened when you tried to go off to London alone last year."

A low laugh escaped her husband. He smiled in rueful memory. "My sweet wife decided to accompany me. She hid in the baggage train of a merchant and then made her way on board my ship. I didn't discover her until it was too late to turn back." He shrugged resignedly. "I was angry enough at the time, but truth be told, I quickly became glad to have her with me."

Colin stared at them in astonishment. Brenna was a gentle, tractable woman deeply in love with her husband and disinclined to oppose him in any way. If she was capable of going off on her own, how much more likely Roanna would be to do the same.

"Well. . . perhaps, if you're really certain you want to come along. . . ."

"I am." Her anger faded as she reached out a hand to him. "Fifty years hence I may be willing to be parted from you for some short time, but right now I cannot bear even the thought"

Forgetting the other couple who watched them tolerantly, they gazed into each other's eyes with all the intentness of lovers enthralled by one another.

That, Roanna remembered ruefully, was their last peaceful moment for quite some time. Colin quickly became caught up in preparations for the journey. The most skilled and highly disciplined of his retainers were chosen to accompany them. They had the formidable appearance of a war party eased only by the presence of Roanna, several baggage carts, and a dozen somber servants not at all sure they wanted to make the journey but with no other choice.

As she took in the full extent of London's unruliness, she felt justified in having brought so much help. It would be an uphill battle to establish any sort of orderly household in the midst of such chaos. They were fortunate in having already secured lodgings. Alaric and several thegns had ridden ahead of the main party for just that purpose. The grizzled old warrior waited to greet them at the entrance to a rather dilapidated but good-sized residence.

"Welcome, my lord, my lady. I trust your journey was uneventful."

Colin nodded gruffly. He was in no mood for small talk. "Well enough. How are things in the city?"

Alaric shrugged: "About as you see." Signaling grooms to take their horses, he walked inside with them where they could not be overheard by passersby.

"The court, such as it is, is in turmoil. As near as I can determine, William's supporters are split in two groups. The more sensible seeks an accord with us so that he can reign peacefully. The other will not be satisfied until the last piece of English land is held by a Norman. Balanced between them is our audacious Conqueror. He needs the support of both, though how he expects to reconcile two such opposing views is beyond me."

"Don't underestimate him," Colin muttered. "He has already accomplished more than anyone would have thought possible."

Roanna half listened to them as she looked around her new home. What she saw did not inspire confidence. The former residence of an Anglo-Saxon noble fallen on hard times since the invasion, the three-story structure might once have been a gracious, well-appointed establishment But months of neglect had taken their toll The plaster walls were peeling, birds nested in the rafters, the floors were covered with waste-encrusted rushes that served no purpose other than to attract vermin, and what little furniture remained looked about to collapse.

Leaving the men to their talk, she hastily summoned the servants. The first priority was to get the kitchen in operation. Colin had brought some fifty retainers with him, all of whom would expect to be fed well and amply before the day was out

Setting three of the strongest men to work scouring the floor and walls, she soothed the irate cook and baker who claimed they could not function in such surroundings, ordered the food supplies to be offloaded at once from the baggage carts, and began setting up her pantry. Later she would have to go to market, but first something had to be done about the sleeping arrangements.

The retainers would sleep on the lower floor adjacent to the kitchens. They had their own pallets and blankets, so that was no problem. But not even the most hardened warrior would cheerfully bed down in such filth. Giving thanks for the foresight that had caused her to bring along so many mops and buckets, she put more servants to work cleaning the men's quarters.

The main floor on a level with the street would serve as their hall. Colin had already taken possession there, along with his most trusted thegns and housecarls. Heedless of the disorder, they were deep in discussion and would not welcome any disturbance. Deciding that part of the house could wait, Roanna continued upstairs.

The rooms she would share with her husband were in somewhat better repair than she had hoped Several shutters covering the small windows were askew, but they could be quickly put right There were signs of damp rot in the walls, but since the weather was warm that was not an immediate problem. It was the probable infestation of vermin that worried her.

At both her brother's keep and Colin's stronghold, stringent measures were taken to keep down the ubiquitous fleas, lice, and rats. Rushes were changed frequently, tapestries and bed covers regularly beaten, wastes scrupulously removed, and foodstuffs kept in metal bins. Even so, constant vigilance was needed to prevent those carriers of disease and death from invading even the best-run household.

Spotting several small holes near the floorboards, she ordered them closed up at once. What little furniture remained was removed for burning. A harsh solution of lye and camphor was prepared to clean every surface before Roanna would allow her own goods to be brought in.

By afternoon, the air was considerably fresher and the house looked far brighter and cheerier. Even Colin, absorbed though he was in worldly matters, noticed the difference.

"You have done wonders," he told her sincerely as he prepared to leave for court "I'll be back before dark. Don't see how hard you can work."

She agreed perfunctorily, well aware that men had no idea of what it took to make a house livable. The servants were already drooping with fatigue, and Roanna felt that her very bones ached. But far too much remained to be done for anyone to rest just yet.

Forcing her weary body back up on her palfrey, she set off for the London market with a suitable escort led by Alaric.

The small shops and stalls were densely packed together and crowded by all manner of produce and goods. Colorful banners fluttered in the slight breeze as the shouts of peddlers, oracles, healers, horse traders, and gaily dressed women offering more personal services added to the din.

To the casual eye, it looked as though little had changed since the invasion. But the prices were ten-and twentyfold what they had been, and the merchants were quick to ignore anyone who looked Anglo-Saxon in favor of the Norman conquerors.

Despite the richness of her garb, Roanna still had some difficulty getting served. Only the well-armed men behind her assured that the grain merchant whose shop she entered first gave her his full attention. At least until a plump, overdressed Norman matron decided she did not care to wait

"Here, here, my good man. I have far better things to do than waste my time. If you prefer the patronage of"— the matron looked down her nose derisively — "natives, I will go elsewhere."

The flustered shop owner instantly broke off his discussion with Roanna. "Oh, no, my lady! My apologies, I assure you I had no intention to keep you waiting. Please, how may I serve you?"

Somewhat mollified, the matron sniffed. "Well, perhaps you do have some quality goods...." With a doubtful look, she fingered a sample of bread before popping it into her ample mouth.

Only a slight flush betrayed Roanna's anger. Drawing herself up, she said firmly, "If you don't mind, I have not yet finished giving my order."

The matron swallowed abruptly. About to deliver a proper dressing down for such presumptuousness, she realized the disdainful young woman had addressed her in perfect Norman French. Unable to reconcile the Anglo-Saxon garb with such fluency, she stuttered, "W-why you aren't . . . that is ... are you Norman?"

"What difference does it make? I was here first, therefore you will wait until my business is completed."

As though to emphasize her words, her watchful guard stepped closer. The large, grim-faced thegns had not missed a word of the exchange. Their hands on their weapons were enough to make the merchant wish he had chosen that day to remain abed.

Sputtering, the matron glanced from Roanna to the men-at-arms in disbelief. "Why I never. . . . How dare you! Have you no idea who I am?"

Amber eyes looked her over scornfully. "Your dress and manner proclaim you the wife of some landless knight, one of the multitude who have come here hoping to be given property. If your husband is as foolish as you, I doubt even the beneficence of King William will stretch far enough to grant your wish." Dismissively, she added, "Your upstart behavior displeases me. While I finish my business, you may wait elsewhere."

The matron turned alternately bright red and sickly gray. She was tempted to argue further, but Roanna's self-assurance stopped her. Few social gaffs were as serious as annoying a member of the aristocracy. Her chest heaving in indignation, she stalked off, still unsure as to whether she should stand and fight or thank God for having gotten off so lightly.