Joining (22 page)

Possibly, though apparently not tonight, for the man made an effort to correct the blunder their silence had caused, saying now, “A roof and fire wouldst be appreciated. We had heard Shefford was closed to travelers, which is why we did not expend the effort to try their hospitality. Are you sure they make exceptions due to the weather? We would not care to break camp here only to be turned away at their gate.”

“I can assure you entrance.”

“And who would you be?”

“Wulfric de Thorpe.”

“Ah, son of the great earl himself,” the man said with a smile. “’Tis a pleasure, my lord. Your reputation precedes you.”

“Does it?” Wulfric replied skeptically. “If you are coming, be quick about it. I have been out here long enough to be feeling the cold myself now, so I am sure you are as well.”

They did make haste now and returned to
Shefford with him. But whereas he would have merely told the guard he turned them over to to see to their comfort and their departure in the morn, he now told the fellow to have them followed at a discreet distance. He wanted to be assured now that they did indeed leave Shefford lands on the morrow.

He could have wished his suspicions had been groundless, though. Yet were they proven correct when the man who was sent to follow them the next day did not return, and after an extensive search, was found half buried in the nearby woods, his throat cut. The three men were not seen again, though the patrols were given their description and were ordered to apprehend them on sight.

Wulfric even added a bonus for their capture, chagrined as he was that he had not seen to the matter himself. But if their leader was as intelligent as he had seemed, Wulfric doubted they would be found. Unfortunately, he also doubted they had left the area.

Thirty

The guests began
arriving. King John had been invited, but no one actually expected him to come. Thus it was a surprise when his huge entourage was seen approaching Shefford five days before the wedding.

Having the king of England as a guest could be viewed as an honor or a disaster. If he only stayed a day or two, it was usually an honor. If he stayed longer, though, it was nearly always a disaster, since stores would be utterly depleted, leaving a castle hard-pressed to feed its own people until the next growing season.

That John was going to be at Shefford at least five days due to his early arrival, mayhap longer, might have put a crimp even in a demesne the size of Shefford, if the earl hadn’t planned well in advance, and had many holdings to draw from. Extra stores had been shipped in from townships as far away as London, and his many vassals had contributed from their own stores as well.

The castle huntsmen and falconers had also
beert kept busy in the prior weeks, so there was an abundance of smoked and salted meats available. There would be food aplenty. The only problem being that each meal needed to be lavish to impress someone of John’s stature.

To that end, Lady Anne would be using more of her precious store of spices than she’d counted on, yet she did not begrudge the need. Her husband might bemoan the fact that the king would be in residence, but Anne was delighted that it was so, for with John came the highest-ranked ladies in the lands, including the queen, and naturally, entertaining gossip.

Milisant might have been excited to be meeting the king for the first time if she were not in a constant state of panic as her wedding got closer and closer to becoming a fact. And that her father had yet to arrive, or even send word of when he would, only increased it.

She was afraid he had no intention of showing up, which would be the easiest way for him to avoid sticking to their bargain. He had given her a month’s grace, yet he hadn’t wanted to, and he had been confident that she would change her opinion about Wulfric during that time. However, he wouldn’t really want to take any chances about this. If he didn’t come, his reasoning could be that she was there, the groom was there, and the groom’s parents would see the wedding accomplished, which was what everyone wanted—except her … well, and except for the groom.

Actually, she wasn’t so sure about the groom anymore, not after he had nearly made love to her that night in his parents’ chamber.
That
would have put an end to any hope of avoiding their joining. She knew it. He had to know it as well. And even before that, he had been behaving as if he were now completely resigned to having her for wife.

He might still wish it were otherwise, yet was it obvious that he was no longer expecting something to prevent it. But then he could afford to give up. A marriage, after all, would not prevent a husband from seeking love, as well as happiness, elsewhere, whereas a wife could not do the same—if she did not want to find herself killed in a jealous rage or locked away in some tower for the rest of her life, which in some cases just might be preferable.

The wife had no choices. The husband had as many as he cared to pursue. Yet another reason for Milisant to rail against the despised female body that she had been born into.

John’s arrival brought all this to mind again. And worse, as they watched John ride through the portcullis that day, Jhone pointed out that the king’s presence nearly made the wedding mandatory. After all, he was there to witness a joining. To not have one now … How could that be explained, without making one of their two families appear utter fools whom the whole country would soon hear about?

Could Milisant do that to her father, or to Lady Anne, for that matter, whom she had become so fond of? Yet what was the alternative? To accept the brute. To accept her every enjoyment henceforth being curtailed by a husband who took pleasure in gainsaying her. Nay, she
could not. There still had to be a way to escape the shackle awaiting her.

Milisant was officially presented to the royal couple that evening before the meal. Jhone saw to it personally that she was dressed befitting the occasion. The cumbersome bliaut and chemise of rich royal blue velvet were as heavy as the dread weighting her shoulders. Yet the queen remarked on their beauty—the sisters were presented together—which at least pleased Jhone.

The queen herself was an amazing sight. It had been rumored that she was a woman whose beauty was beyond compare. To find that the rumor was indeed fact was disconcerting, and led most people to simply stare, utterly bemused by such radiance. Even Milisant, who put little store in such things as appearances, was impressed. But then she was also impressed by King John.

For a man in his middle years, John was still a very handsome man, and charismatic, with an engaging smile that could put one quite at ease. It was hard to believe that half the country could be his enemies. But then, that half likely did not include women, for John was known to be at his most charming where women were concerned. What could be wondered was if he was still the womanizer he had been in his youth, now that he had a wife so exquisitely lovely.

Milisant was to find out for herself, unfortunately, when later that night one of John’s servants sought her out, to bring her to the royal presence. The pretext, not that one was needed since one did not refuse a summons by the king,
was that the royal couple wished to congratulate her in private on her brilliant match. And since Milisant considered her match anything but brilliant, she was understandably not in a pleased state of mind as she followed the servant to the king’s chamber.

Jhone, aware of her feelings without being told, had cautioned her to at least be civil, and to keep in mind that John’s presence meant he must approve of her marriage. Not that his approval was needed, since Nigel had mentioned once that King Richard himself had given his blessings on the joining of the two families. But Milisant knew better than to pour out her grievances to someone of John’s reputation. He was a sovereign who could not be trusted to give aid unless he himself might benefit from it. This was such common knowledge that one didn’t have to attend court or be involved in royal intrigue to hear of it.

The queen, on the other hand … Milisant did in fact consider confiding in. Isabelle was young, had seemed very approachable. If anyone was likely to understand her aversion to marrying a man of violence, Isabelle would.

But Milisant was undecided whether to entreat the queen for help. She wanted to speak with her in private first, to determine if she would even be sympathetic. Some women, she knew, wouldn’t be.

She hoped she would have the opportunity during this meeting, but when she was led into the chamber, she saw that Isabelle was not there—at least not yet. She thought nothing of that, however, even when the door closed
soundly behind her. The queen was merely tardy to arrive—or the servant had fetched Milisant prematurely.

John was there, though, and completely alone. Unusual to imagine a king without his servants and lords of state hovering over him, even in his bedchamber. He was dressed in a simple, long tunic, loosely belted about his hips. He had been bathed as well as cologned—at least there was a pleasant smell in the chamber.

Brazers in every corner made the room nigh too warm. But no expense would be spared for the king’s comfort, she was sure, even to wasting precious fuel.

He sat in a high-backed chair, nearly thronelike with carvings and inlaid silver, that was set out in the center of the room. It no doubt traveled with him. He sipped from a gem-encrusted chalice, staring at Milisant over the bejeweled rim, another item that no doubt came from his own treasure rooms. A king would not want to leave all his luxuries at home, after all, just because he must journey about his kingdom.

Milisant noticed all this in utter silence. The silence, and his staring, continued overlong, though, causing a slight unease. Mayhap it was his habit, but one she was not accustomed to—found rude, in fact.

She was close to breaking the strange quiet herself when he said, “Come here, child. We wouldst have a closer look at you in the light.”

The room was well lit. His eyesight must not be as keen as it used to be. She was not about to remark on it, though, since he might be overly
sensitive about his age. She approached his chair instead.

As she stood in front of him, he stared at her some more, thoroughly looked her over, actually, from head to toe. This habit, he might find very useful in dealing with his barons, to cause them nervousness, thus putting them at a disadvantage. Milisant found it quite annoying. The only thing she feared was that she would say so. So it was an immense relief when he ended the silence again, though she could have wished for a different subject, never comfortable with compliments.

“He should have mentioned how pretty you are,” John said in a chiding tone.

“Who should have?” she asked.

Instead of answering that, he added cryptically, “But there are other ways to accomplish the same goal, are there not? Some ways even having the added benefit of being pleasant.”

“I am afraid I do not know of what you speak, Your Highness.”

“Come, sit here, and I will explain,” he replied, and patted his lap.

Milisant said merely, “I am beyond the age of knee sitting.”

He chuckled, his green eyes crinkling with the laughter. “A woman is never too old for that.”

Perhaps she wasn’t sophisticated enough to figure out what he found amusing. She just knew she did
not
want to sit on his lap.

He might be old enough to be her father, and want to act in a fatherly manner toward her, but he in no way reminded her of a father. Far from it. His smiles were too sensual. And he was
looking at her, well … the way Wulfric did, which was highly disconcerting, considering who he was.

Not that it meant anything, of course. He was wed to an incredibly beautiful woman, after all, who was all that any man could ask for in a wife. He must simply look at all women in that way, as if they were all created for his personal plucking. Before Isabelle, he might have thought so—his reputation said that he had—but surely that was in the past.

So she ignored his last suggestion and recalled him to the matter of her summons. “The hour is late, Your Highness. If you have aught to say to me, do you please say it now, so I may find my bed.”

He glanced toward his own bed, then back at her. She stared at him blankly. He frowned. “Are you as innocent as you seem, girl?” She frowned as well. “Innocent in what way?”

“Do you love de Thorpe?”

This question was unexpected and opened an entire new line of thought. She had not considered bringing her grievances to him, but if he wanted to hear them, for whatever reason, she would not keep them to herself.

So she said, “Nay, I must confess I do not.”

“Excellent.” He confounded her by saying that with a smile most charming, and further baffled her when he added, “Then you will not mind overmuch if he repudiates you.”

“I wish that he would, but he has resigned himself to our joining,” she said with a sigh.

“He just has not been given a reason yet to
do so. But we can see to that most easily. I am pleased we shall both benefit by this solution.” “What solution?”

He stood up abruptly. “Come now, the answer is obvious,” he replied as he put an arm around her shoulder to lead her to his bed.