Forbidden Love (15 page)

"The battle was lost before Harold fell. With the Normans fighting from horseback and us on foot, our only chance was to hold the high ground and make them come to us."

His silvery eyes clouded over as he recalled the scene. "The rain that had fallen over the last few days made the going slick. The horses wouldn't have been able to keep their balance. It would have been a matter of picking them off man by man. But instead some of us gave up the advantage to follow the feigned retreat. That lack of discipline and the failure to obey even the King's direct orders destroyed us."

So softly that the men had to lean forward to hear him, he added, "Don't look to chance for the cause of our defeat It lies in ourselves. We were a loose coalition fighting under a leader some of us did not want The Normans were completely unified and unshakably disciplined. Moreover, we clung to the old methods of warfare that had always worked for us while the Normans made great advances."

"It's easy to find fault after the fact," the red-bearded lord protested, "but you sound as though you think we deserved to lose."

"To the degree that we were unprepared to protect ourselves, our families, and our lands, that is true."

His somber judgment settled slowly over the table. The women glanced at each other anxiously, unsure how the men would react. But they need not have worried. Having achieved his aim in puncturing the cloud of rationalization and excuse, Colin moved quickly to bolster the shaken company.

"None of which is to say it is too late for us to learn from our mistakes. Certainly we have lost much. But if we conduct ourselves property, we also stand to gain."

"How so?" Alaric asked softly. He had never before heard his lord speak so ruthlessly and could only wonder where it would all lead.

Leaning back in his chair, Colin twirled the wine cup between his fingers absently before he said, "William's position is precarious. He has sufficient men to keep us at bay, but not enough to take over the country completely and remake it in the image of Normandy. Without our cooperation, he will have to spend the rest of his life fighting to hold on to what he won at Hastings, and in the end he will be defeated anyway because he will never have the rime to implement policies and truly rule."

"Are you seriously suggesting," growled Red-beard, "that we should help William?"

"Why not? We share the same quandary. If we continue to resist him, we condemn ourselves and our families to a life of perpetual fighting. But if we accept him and work with him, we will have the chance to create our own future instead of merely having it imposed on us."

Gently, he concluded, "What it comes down to is whether we are to be the conquered victims of a bloodthirsty tyrant or the loyal subjects of a just sovereign."

"Just! What makes you think William is prepared to treat us fairly?"

"Are you so foolish as to trust him?"

"Why would he ever see us as anything but enemies?"

"Because," Colin explained calmly, "William believes above all that it is his destiny to be King of England. To achieve that, he risked the considerable wealth and power he held as Duke of Normandy, as well as his very life. But without our loyalty, his victory is empty. Therefore, I believe he will go to considerable lengths to effect an accord with us."

Long moments stretched by as the lords considered this. Some clearly wanted to believe Colin was right Others fought against relinquishing the dream of continued resistance and an eventual return to the old ways. It was left to red-beard to express what seemed to be the consensus.

"Then God be with you, if you intend to act on that belief. For if you are wrong, the suffering of the past months will seem as nothing compared to what you will have to endure."

Roanna clasped her hands tightly in her lap where their trembling could not be seen. Red-beard's hope seemed more in keeping with a curse.

If Colin shared her thought, he did not show it His manner betrayed no doubt as he said quietly, "But if I am right, all those who choose to follow me will share the benefits."

It was clearly an invitation that held intrinsic attractions to the sorrow-ridden men around the table. They could have no hope of a better future without a leader to guide them to it. Colin possessed all the requirements of strength, intelligence, and most importantly, the vision of what might be. Moreover, they sensed he was an honorable man who would not simply use them to achieve his own aims.

No such decision could be taken without due consideration, but already there were signs of how the men might respond. Their earlier vehemence gave way to thoughtfulness. The meal ended quietly, each going off to consider his own position.

Roanna watched them leave with mixed feelings. Part of her resented the burdens she did not doubt they would shortly place on Colin. But the other, wiser part accepted the inevitable. She could not pick and choose from among his attributes. It was the whole man she loved, and he was clearly called to the service of his people in their time of need.

But it was her own needs that occupied her thoughts as she made her way upstairs. Having sent her maids to their beds long before, Roanna was alone as she slipped out of her tunic and surcoat and laid them neatly away. With the night so warm, she left the few sleeping robes she had brought in the chest and selected only a thin wrap to wear as she combed out her hair.

The polished metal mirror perched on a table reflected back a vision of loveliness. A radiant tumult of golden silk framed the slender line of her throat and delicate shoulders. Her thick lashes cast shadows on the high cheekbones brushed by a faint touch of rose. The amber eyes they shielded were turned inward upon the landscape of her own thoughts. The ripe curve of her mouth was even softer than usual, giving her a poignant air of vulnerability.

Her slender body but lightly covered by the robe was unconsciously tensed. Each sound from the corridor reverberated through her. Long moments passed, but still Colin did not come.

Plaiting her hair in two loose braids, Roanna rose with a sigh. She blew out the candles and climbed into bed disconsolately, shivering at the wide expanse of empty mattress. The long, arduous day had left her exhausted. Her limbs and back ached, but it was the pain deep inside her that kept sleep away.

Lying on her side away from the door, she stared into the darkness. Images of Colin rose to torment her. They had such a brief time together before the attack on the stronghold, yet every moment of it stood out in sharp detail

She did not even have to close her eyes to recall the look, sound, touch of him on the right they first made love when his tender passion and consummate skill brought her to blinding recognition of her full womanhood. Nor had she forgotten an instant of the blissful time they spent together before their marriage as all the world faded to insignificance before the sheer, overwhelming joy they found in being together.

Their wedding and the incandescent hours that followed remained as clearly etched in her mind as though they had just occurred. But after that there was only darkness.

Her terror during the attack and her revulsion at DeBourgnon's brutal handling of her had long since faded to only a faint echo of what they had been. It was Colin's behavior since then that tormented her with each breath she drew.

No woman could have asked for a kinder, more considerate husband. He had cared for her himself, washing the soot and grime from her body and rubbing a soothing salve into the bruises left by the near-rape. It was his hands that wrapped her in a warm blanket and his arms that held her as she drifted into healing sleep. But through it all, she had sensed a remoteness about him, as though he was forcibly restraining himself from giving vent to his true feelings.

And now, after the long days of their journey to London and especially since their brief encounter before supper, she greatly feared that they might never recapture their earlier happiness with each other.

A single, glistening tear slid down her cheek. Ro-anna brushed it away impatiently. She was not one to give in to self-pity. Refusing to indulge her melancholy thoughts any further, she was about to light the brace of candles beside the bed and fetch something useful to do when the sound of footsteps in the corridor stopped her.

Colin entered the room quietly, apparently expecting her to be asleep. After the relative brightness of the torchlit corridor, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he was startled to find his wife sitting up in bed regarding him with steady eyes that betrayed nothing of her thoughts.

"You must be very tired," he murmured. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I was waiting for you." This was the truth, although she had only just realized it Instinctively, she had not wanted to let another night pass without learning whether or not her fears were justified.

Colin did not seem pleased by this announcement He frowned slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. "That wasn't necessary. I know you need to rest"

"There are other things I need more." She had not expected to state the case so bluntly, but now that the words were out she was glad.

Colin, however, heard her through the filter of his own concerns. He thought she was referring to the present uncertainty of their lives, to the dangers that would face them if William refused to acknowledge his suzerainty of his own lands. Certainly it was the right of women to expect a secure home.

His eyes were bleak as he said, "I am sorry. If I had suspected what was going to happen, our marriage would not have taken place."

Roanna swallowed painfully. His words seemed to confirm her deepest fears. Colin regretted their marriage, wished it had never happened How was she to blame him when every time he looked at her he must be reminded of the suffering others of her race had brought down upon his people? If her love alone was not enough to overcome his abhorrence of all she represented, there was nothing more she could do.

Wordlessly she turned from him, burying her head in the pillows. Her tears fell soundlessly into darkness that held not a glimmer of light or hope.

"
I
'm not sure how long we will be, Alaric, so why don't you escort Lady Margaret to the market and then see her safely home?" Colin smiled as he made the suggestion, well aware of how eagerly his housecarl would accept it.

"Well, if you think that's best ...." The older man hesitated, but only for a moment He was a bit embarrassed at having his desires so plainly known, yet nothing could detract from the pleasure of spending a day alone with the lady who made him feel like a young and eager boy on the verge of first love.

They went off together happily, not seeing how swiftly Colin's smile faded the moment their backs were turned.

Roanna stood beside him silently. Much as she enjoyed Lady Margaret's company, she was glad he had sent the pair away. The strain of hiding her feelings from such astute eyes was becoming intolerable. At least inside the court she would be surrounded by people who were far too occupied with their own concerns to notice hers.

Leaving the rest of their escort with instructions to wait, they proceeded through the gate set in the high wooden wall guarding the new royal residence. At first glance, William's headquarters were singularly unimposing. A rough-hewn round tower on top of a hastily erected mound commanded a view of the murky Thames and the southeastern portion of the city. It was large enough to house only William and his closest retainers. The rest of the Conqueror's court made do with tents scattered about the bailey, or when that proved too crowded sought shelter in the nearby taverns and inns.

Off in the distance about half a mile upriver stood what had been the royal home in the time of Edward and, very briefly, Harold. It was a far larger and more gracious structure, but lacked the security William considered essential.

Until he could construct the great White Tower for which his architects were already drawing up plans, he would make do with shelter that was, if not elegant, at least easily protected.

Roanna did not consider his caution misplaced. The citizens of London were notorious for their willingness to rise up and make trouble on the slightest pretext And they were only the most visible danger in a country finely balanced on a knife's edge between war and peace. If hotter heads than Colin's prevailed among the remaining Anglo-Saxon lords, William would need every bit of his military advantage to keep his newly won kingdom.

Still she couldn't help but wish that he had spared a moment's thought for those who had to make their way through the crude bailey to reach him. Dust stirred up by countless feet and hooves clogged the air. The stench of uncollected garbage and overloaded latrines made her nose wrinkle. She had to step carefully to avoid the piles of manure which in a well-run household would have been gathered for fertilizer almost before they hit the ground.

Shaking her head, she wondered what the Duchess —or was it now Queen?—Matilda would say if she could see such squalor. William's ducal manor in Normandy, presided over by his wife, was a model of cleanliness and comfort. But no such feminine influence yet existed in his new domains. The few Norman women who had so far arrived were not of sufficient rank to dare to advise him. As for the others of her sex, Roanna glimpsed around the stronghold, they were clearly bent on providing services that had nothing to do with cozy domestic concerns.

Turning a blind eye to the prostitutes who were, after all, an expected feature of such an encampment, she followed Colin up the steep wooden stairs to the tower. The entrance to the great hall was unguarded, but not because of any carelessness. No guard was needed when everyone inside was armed to the hilt and ready to pounce at the slightest sign of trouble.

Roanna's back stiffened as she saw the instant belligerence Colin's presence provoked. Several of the knights nearest them actually reached for their swords, while others were content merely to step forward threateningly.

Only her husband's firm hand on her arm kept her moving forward. Glancing up, she was relieved that he seemed unaffected by the hostile display. His slate gray eyes revealed only confident assurance. The hard planes and angles of his face were set impassively. But for the gleaming chain mail stretched across his powerful torso and arms, and the war sword buckled to his side, he might have been in his own keep.

Though he showed not the slightest hint of anger, his manner alone was enough to cause the knights to hesitate. Not even their vastly superior numbers were enough to make them risk challenging so powerful a warrior, who, it was already rumored, just might have William's favor.

Despite the muttered speculation about why he was there, no effort was made to stop them. Still Roanna did not breathe comfortably until they were through the great hall into the anteroom which led to the new King's, private quarters.

The room was crowded, but they were instantly spotted by the man awaiting their arrival. Odo, Bishop of Bayeaux, newly made Earl of Kent, and half-brother to William, was a startling figure. His ecclesiastic robes were rigorously correct, yet the scarlet velvet embroidered in lush gold thread and the massive cross embedded with precious stones looked utterly out of place on a man so evidently born for the battlefield rather than the pulpit

Not that the apparent contradiction between his character and his calling seemed to trouble Odo. At thirty, he was renowned as the ruthless facilitator of bis half-brother's policies. His abilities were manifold, extending from the skilled manipulation of legal doctrine to the deadly wielding of a studded mace at Hastings, where he accounted for more than his fair share of the slaughter while technically honoring his church's prohibition against her servants carrying swords.

Since being appointed to the bishopric at the scandalously young age of nineteen, Odo had never permitted his holy orders to interfere with his pursuit of either power or pleasure. He was known to favor an accord with the Anglo-Saxons for the simple reason that further warfare would threaten the wealth he hoped to accumulate. Said to be far readier to destroy an enemy or tumble a wench than to say a mass, he had nonetheless impressed Roanna as a man who, once having decided where his interests lay, could be trusted to follow through. As such, she was glad to see him.

The bishop shared her delight. Odo's small black eyes set beneath bushy brows glowed as he looked her over appreciatively before reluctantly turning his attention to Colin.

"My Lord Algerson, you are most welcome, as is your lady. Roanna, my dear, you look glorious as ever. I trust you have been well?"

"Exceedingly, sir. And you?"

"Much better now that you are here." Dropping his voice confidentially, he added, "Never have I seen a drearier court We are starving for even a morsel of beauty and here you provide a banquet"

Colin's eyes widened slightly at such blatant flattery, but he made no objection. No man, even one as bold as Odo, would advertise his intended seductions in the very presence of an armed and clearly watchful husband.

Nor did Roanna mistake his compliments for anything more than what they were. The bishop, greedy and lustful though he might be, was the furthest thing from a fool. Even as he gave the appearance of flirting with her, he was adroitly steering both Algersons toward a secluded corner where they could all talk privately.

Her presence provided the necessary cover for what quickly developed into a serious discussion.

"Ordinarily, it would take several weeks for you to arrange a meeting with the King," Odo began, "his schedule being so hectic. But frankly I think William will be curious to meet the man who killed DeBourgnon. So I will present you to him this morning after he finishes with the council"

This was far better than Colin had hoped. Whatever William's reaction to the Norman's death, he wanted to get this first meeting over with as soon as possible. At least then he would know if there was any basis for accord.

Cautiously, he said, "I thank you for your assistance. There must be many here who don't want me to get anywhere near William."

"That is true," Odo confirmed, "it is an unfortunate fact that we are suffering an excess of shortsighted fools."

The prelate's bushy eyebrows arched toward a tall, red-faced man standing near the door. "Take FitzStephen, for instance. He won't be content until every Anglo-Saxon lies dead and every inch of land is ruled by a Norman. It doesn't seem to occur to him that if we embark on such a course of wanton destruction, there will be no one left to tend the fields, reap the harvest, pay the taxes, or do any of those other mundane things necessary for a kingdom's survival. Moreover, FitzStephen and the others like him forget that William still has another realm to rule. Part of his time each year must be spent in Normandy. But he cannot leave here until he is confident of peace."

"Perhaps I can help instill that confidence," Colin suggested quietly. Meeting the bishop's gaze, he added, "For a price, of course."

Odo nodded philosophically. He lived in a world in which everything from eternal forgiveness of sins to the sexual use of another's body could be had for a price. Far from objecting to Colin's pragmatism, he applauded it William, the bishop believed, would find this Anglo-Saxon chieftain a great improvement over the blustering hotheads who had all too much in common with the more belligerent faction of his own supporters.

A short time later, as the council filed out, the bishop ushered both Algersons into the royal chamber. For all its grand name, the room was in fact no more than an alcove partitioned off from the rest of the hall and sparsely furnished by a table cluttered with papers and several chairs.

William rose as they entered and came forward to meet them. He was little changed from the man Roanna remembered. From their mother, he and Odo had inherited certain shared characteristics. Both had straight black hair and penetrating onyx eyes, and both were tall, ruggedly built men with barrel chests and long, powerful arms and legs. But there the resemblance ended.

The bishop's blatantly sensual nature was in sharp contrast to his half-brother's marked self-restraint All William's considerable intellect and energy was poured into the single goal of attaining and keeping power. At thirty-nine, he had no time or thought for other pursuits, no matter how pleasant they might be. Not even his love for his wife, Matilda, who was in every sense his helpmate and confidante, was allowed to distract him from what he clearly regarded as his life's purpose.

In another man, such single-mindedness might have been distasteful. But in William it was balanced by innate charm that made even the most skeptical feel easier about him.

The smile he beamed at Roanna lacked the teasing lustfulness of his half-brother's welcome. Rather it was a genuine expression of warmth and pleasure that evoked an instant response in kind.

Sweeping him a graceful curtsey, she said softly, "It is good to see you again, my lord. My brother sends his greetings and hopes that all continues to go well with you."

William nodded kindly. On closer inspection, she could see new lines cut deeply into his tanned features and shadows beneath his eyes that bespoke too many nights with little sleep. But his voice was firm as he said, "It does, although I miss Guyon's help. Is he pleased with his new lands?"

"Very much, sire. Your generosity touched us deeply."

"Not at all," the King protested. "All that your brother received was more than deserved. But now, let us speak of you. What's this about you marrying?" His gaze slipped to Colin as Odo stepped forward to make the introductions.

"Algerson . . ." William murmured thoughtfully after a moment. "That name is familiar."

"I do not doubt it, my lord," Colin said quietly, "since not too long ago you awarded my lands to another man."

The King's eyebrows arched in a mannerism he shared with his half-brother, but which on him looked less benign. Though he was several inches shorter than Colin and not as powerfully built, he exuded no less a sense of authority and confidence Coldly, he demanded, "Indeed, and have you come to ask me to rescind that decision?"

"Not precisely. I have come to tell you that the man you sent is dead. DeBourgnon perished at my hand, as will anyone else who attempts to take what is mine Therefore, in the interest of preventing further bloodshed, I ask you to simply confirm my right to the lands so that my people may live in peace with yours."

Roanna held her breath, afraid that William would not take this advice well. Certainly he could not be accustomed to an Anglo-Saxon warlord flatly telling him what he should or should not do. But the King surprised her. He appeared at least willing to listen to what Colin had to suggest The glance he shot at Odo indicated his wish to be alone with his unexpected guest

"Come along, my dear," the bishop said, taking her arm. "I'll fill you in on all the latest gossip and you can tell me how that exquisite sister-in-law of yours is doing."

Resignedly, Roanna allowed herself to be led away. She understood that her husband and William had to speak privately, but that didn't stop her from worrying about what would be said. The reassuring smile Colin gave her only slightly eased her concern. She gave scant attention to the bishop's chatter as he guided her back into the antechamber.

With rare sensitivity, Odo quickly gave up the effort to distract her from her concern. When she was settled on a bench along one side of the room, he discreetly took his leave. She was left to gaze at the curtained partition concealing the royal chamber and wonder anxiously what was being decided within.

The slender, pale-skinned young man who appeared at her side had to cough several times before she noticed him. When she at last looked up, he smiled shyly.

"Hello, Roanna. It's been a long time. How have you been?"