Immortal Warrior (24 page)

The guards covered their laugh with coughing, and Alaida pretended she didn’t hear as embarrassment turned her ears to flame beneath her wimple.

“Go on, then, Geoff, and ride quickly. We will delay here a little, but the mist grows heavier. I do not wish to stay out longer than need be.”

“I will have the church bell rung thrice when all is ready, my lady.” He and Penda galloped off.

As she watched them vanish over a hill, Ari watched her in turn. “You play this game well, my lady.”

“I had much practice at it when my grandfather was off warring,” she said. “I do not like it, but it is too often necessary. Do the ladies of Guelders not have to play the game as well?”

His face went blank, then cleared. “Our women prefer knives and poisons to games, I fear. That’s why I left. Too many of them unhappy with me.”

“The ladies, or their fathers and husbands?”

He shrugged, but the mischief in his eyes said he was hardly sorry, either way.

“You should have settled into marriage long ago,” said Alaida. “You and Sir Brand, both.”

“Brand was married, my lady. His wife died many years ago.”

“I did not know.” She absorbed this news and nodded. “That would explain the sadness I sometimes glimpse behind his laughter. He loved her, I think.”

“
Inn makti mur,
” said Ari. When she raised an eyebrow in question, he explained. “An old saying in Guelders. It means the grand passion—the kind of love that turns a tale boring once the couple are wed—though Brand would never admit to the passion or to being boring.”

“His lady was fortunate to know such love.” Alaida pressed her lips together against a sob that suddenly welled up from nowhere.

Feeling ridiculous, she struggled to swallow back the tears that burned her throat. She had never been the crying sort, but tears had crept up on her several times in the fortnight since she’d cried about Ivo’s kindness to Tom. And over the oddest things. This time she understood—Brand’s lost happiness contrasted so sharply with her own marriage that she was bound to feel the ache—but only yesterday it had been the sight of men sowing her new fields at Houton that had made the tears come. And a few days earlier at Chatton, a sunbeam falling on the cross in the chapel had made her think of the Holy Mother’s sorrow for her Son and had brought on such sadness she had nearly sobbed during Mass.

Today, she covered her distress by fiddling with her cloak and chape, and by good fortune the mood passed as quickly it had come on. She soon had herself under control enough to fill the silence with the first thing that came to mind. “You were speaking of tales, sir. I believe you still owe me a dragon.”

“You will have it soon, my lady.”

“I will have it now,” she said firmly, not about to miss this chance. “It will distract me from this drizzle.”
And from these ridiculous tears.

“At your command, my lady.” He glanced up and she followed his gaze to see a black shadow cutting in and out of the wisps of low-hanging cloud.

“Look, Thomas, my eagle is back. He flew along as I rode to Chatton,” she explained to Sir Ari.

“Did he?”

“Aye, he circled over Lady Alaida near all the way,
messire
.” Tom stuck his arms out like a soaring bird and pretended to swoop from his saddle, so that Hadwisa, who rode pillion behind him today, squeaked and clutched at him in a panic. “See his crooked tail?”

“Sit still, Thomas.” Alaida turned to Ari. “Geoff said it is the same bird that followed you along the bounds.”

“Perhaps.” Ari stared upward for a long moment. When he turned back to Alaida, his face had shuttered over as though a storm were brewing. “Well. A dragon. Let me see. Once there was a princess by the name of Alaida . . .”

He spun out his tale until they forded the Aln and heard Geoff’s bell ring.

Alaida groaned. “He is too quick. Now I suppose I must wait another month to hear the ending.”

“Only until you are safely in your solar, my lady. Come, everyone.” Ari organized the group to his satisfaction while Alaida arranged her skirts and mantle to hang more gracefully—difficult, since they were so sodden from the mist.

“You do look like a princess, my lady,” said Tom.

“A very damp princess, I’m sure. Come, let us make this royal progress.” She led the way out across the field, her back straight, her chin high, and a confident, if false, smile on her lips. She was, after all, the lady of a castle. A lady with an eagle, for she caught another glimpse of the bird winging through the clouds. Her smile turned real.

Geoff had done his job well. The villagers greeted her with enthusiasm, and some of them, but not too many for the effect, followed her along to the manor. She slipped her purse to Ari, so he could pass out alms at the gate, and rode in to be greeted by the manor servants, nearly all of whom turned out wearing smiles and chattering like jackdaws. The stir pulled Lord Robert and most of his men out into the yard—precisely where she wanted them.

“Greetings, Lady Alaida,” called Lord Robert over the din. He was a lean man of dark complexion and thickly sensual features. She remembered thinking him handsome years ago when he had visited Bamburgh during her fostering, but he was past his prime now and looked tired and worn despite his fine clothes and heavy rings. He stood by as a groom helped her down from Lark.

As the man led the mare off, Alaida glanced around at her noisy servants and held up a finger. The yard immediately dropped silent.
Excellent.

“It is I who should have been here to greet you, Lord Robert.” She dipped graciously low in her courtesy. “Forgive my absence, and my lord husband’s. Had we known you were coming . . .” She let the thought trail off, a subtle reminder that a messenger should have been sent ahead.

But of course he hadn’t wanted to send a messenger. He had wanted to come on them unawares, to see what they were up to. There would be much mistrust of the marcher lords after last year’s rebellion, even of the new, loyal ones like her husband. She expected they would have many unannounced visits over the next years, even after the castle was built. Perhaps especially after the castle was built.

“Never fear, my lady,” said Lord Robert. “Your officers have made us welcome.”

“I am glad to hear it. Now, if you will excuse me, my lord, my journey has been damp and chill, and I find myself exhausted. I believe I will sup in chamber tonight. This is Alnwick’s steward, Geoffrey, who was with me. He will see to your needs now, so our seneschal may return to building the castle the king so desires. Hadwisa, come.”

“Of course, my lady, but I hope . . .” Lord Robert’s words were lost in the chatter as her women surrounded her and swept her inside and up the stairs.

By the time she stuck her nose out to go to prayer the next morning, the solar was firmly hers.

CHAPTER 16

NEVILLE BEHAVED BETTER than Alaida had expected. A week into Lord Robert’s stay, and he had not approached her, nor even spoken to her, other than a polite greeting if they happened to pass. Geoff and Oswald said he was even gentle with the servants. Perhaps he had repented his vileness on Ash Wednesday.

Or perhaps he was up to something.

In her experience, Neville fitz Hubert turned courteous only when it served his purpose, so she watched him out of the corner of her eye during dinner, trying to discern what that purpose might be while Lord Robert regaled her with tales of his recent boar hunt in Nottinghamshire. The king’s emissary had proven pleasant company, by and large, except when he talked about hunting. And he did love to talk about hunting.

“Our Sir Brand recently killed a boar with his bare hands,” she commented when he slowed.

Lord Robert smiled the kind of tolerant smile one used with boastful children. “No doubt he embellished the tale to impress you. A boar would tear an unarmed man to shreds.”

“It very nearly did. Sir Ari, you were present. Tell Lord Robert what happened.”

“Well, he did have a small branch, my lord, barely a twig,” began Ari, who had been spending more time in the hall since their guests’ arrival. He spun the story out, keeping Lord Robert and his men well diverted—excepting Neville, whose jaw clenched more tightly with every mention of either Brand or Ivo. True colors showing at last, thought Alaida.

As Ari finished, de Jeune and his knights thumped the tables. “Well told,
messire
. You would make a
jongleur
if you were not a knight.”

“
Jongleurs
contrive their tales from mist and smoke, my lord. This tale is the truth.”

“I would like to meet this Brand for myself,” said Lord Robert.

“Unfortunately, he travels with my husband. We do have the tusks, however,” said Alaida. “He hasn’t yet decided what to have made of them. Thomas, fetch them.”

The boar’s thick, curved tusks were produced in short order and passed from Lord Robert to his knights with much commenting on their size and on the bloodstains that darkened them. De Jeune turned to Alaida. “I’m sorry I questioned your word, my lady. Let me make amends by taking you riding. ’Tis a fine day.”

“That is not necessary, my lord.”

“Ah, come, my lady. You have barely left your solar since we arrived. You will be well escorted and safe.”

“I have no doubt, my lord, but I—”

“I could tell you it is the king’s command,” he interrupted, his eyes full of mischief.

“But that would be a lie,
monseigneur.
”

“Alas, it would,” he admitted. “But I would happily tell it to pry you out of your chamber for a little. Please your guest, Lady Alaida. Ride with me.”

Alaida hesitated. She had assured Geoff and Ari she was safe, and until this moment she’d thought she was. But why was he so insistent? What if this was no simple ride, but an attempt to lure her out where she could be seized? William had been known to take a wife hostage to ensure her husband’s behavior. On the other hand, what if her imagination was running away with her? She had a duty to Alnwick and her husband to keep the king’s representative happy. She silently cursed Ivo for leaving her in the situation, but conjured up a gracious smile.

“Of course, my lord. Give us a moment to ready ourselves. Oswald, see to everything.”

“Yes, my lady.” The marshal selected a few men to follow him, and Alaida headed for the solar with Bôte and Hadwisa. As she topped the stairs, she couldn’t help noticing that Neville looked pleased with himself. The hairs on her neck prickled. The little stoat truly was up to something.

 

“ARE YOU CERTAIN of this? I have noticed no interest at all.”

“Positive, my lord.” Neville fitz Hubert kept his voice low lest any of the manor servants hear. “You were too absorbed in Sir Ari’s tale to notice, but I watched Lady Alaida—and she watched you with great longing in her eyes. She tries to hide it, but she warms to you.”

Lord Robert fiddled with the tab of his belt. “She is so very tempting.”

“You have left yourself the perfect opportunity.” Neville sidled closer and dropped his voice even lower. “The lady rides astride which, as you know, my lord, leaves a woman well stimulated. Add to that the fact that she has been nearly a month without her husband . . .”

“I have heard talk that de Vassy disappears every day from dawn ’til dusk when he is here,” said Robert. “Is that true?”

“So I have heard as well, my lord. Such constant absence of her husband must surely leave the lady wanting. Add a good gallop to the wine she just had for dinner . . .” Neville stopped to let his lordship absorb the idea.

Lord Robert looked to where Alaida spoke with her men. Seven of them had brought out horses, one Alnwick man for each of Lord Robert’s men who would be going, plus her page and a groom to carry a maidservant pillion. Neville, of course, was not riding with them. She would never tolerate it, and it would not do to have her angry.

“But I tell you, she has revealed none of this interest to me.”

“She hardly would, before others,” said Neville. “She would not want word to get back to de Vassy.”

“Nor would I, though she would be worth the risk.” Robert studied her like he would a castle he wished to capture. “I will find a way to get her alone today, and see whether you are right about this.”

“Do not be diverted by feigned reluctance, my lord.”

Robert looked at Alaida again. “You are certain she wants me?”

“Like a bitch wants a dog, my lord.”

“Perhaps I will oblige her by taking her that way, eh?” Robert snickered and nudged Neville, then groaned as Sir Ari gave Alaida a leg up. “God’s knees, would I were that saddle.”

Neville nodded at the sentiment. He had often wished to have Alaida that way. “Imagine what a good gallop will do to that quaint, my lord. How tender it will be. How ready.”

Robert’s ragged sigh said he imagined precisely that. “And to think I was aggrieved when de Vassy was not here to welcome me. I think I will forgive him if she proves as willing as you say.”

His tongue flickered over his lips, as though he were tasting her, and jealous bile filled Neville’s throat. Alaida should have been his—would have been if he hadn’t made the mistake of trying to persuade her to marriage instead of simply forcing her. Would have been anyway, if de Vassy hadn’t turned up with the king’s writ before he could wear her down.

She would never have him now, but setting de Jeune on her would serve its purpose. He would have the pleasure of seeing de Vassy cuckolded, while buying himself a powerful man’s goodwill. And knowing she’d been bedded at his suggestion, if not by his body, would merely add to the sweetness of the revenge. Perhaps he could even find some way to watch de Jeune with her. He hardened, just thinking of it.

“You have my thanks, fitz Hubert,” said Lord Robert as he pulled on his gloves.

Neville bowed. “At your service, my lord.”