Lord of My Heart (30 page)

Their heated kiss was interrupted by a shout. They broke apart and saw one of the castle guards trotting over to them.

Madeleine was flooded with embarrassment to be caught in such an embrace. Then she remembered she’d recently made long, desperate, passionate love at the edge of a path where anyone could have seen them.

Aimery glanced at her red face and laughed. “If anyone did see us, they doubtless only felt jealous. I’d better go and see what’s amiss while you take time to recover your composure.” His eyes were warm and loving, and he touched her cheek gently. “Later,” he promised.

Madeleine watched him stride away. She welcomed the chance to accustom herself to the wonderful thing she had found, a union that went beyond bodies to hearts and souls. She was reluctant to return to the castle and disrupt this idyll with day-to-day concerns. She picked up her herbs, then wandered a bit more, gathering a few more plants but mostly gathering dreams of a golden future.

“He rode out, Lady,” said the man.

She stared at him. “Out? Where?”

“Don’t know, Lady. He went on a journey with three men.”

An icy foreboding assailed Madeleine. But no. She wouldn’t think that of him.

“Just three men?” she demanded of the guard. “He didn’t take Lord Geoffrey?”

“That’s right, Lady.”

“He must have left a message,” she said.

“Doubtless with Lord Hugh, Lady.”

Madeleine hurried to the training grounds, desperate for reassurance. “Hugh, what message did my husband leave for me?”

He raised his sweaty brows. “None with me, Lady Madeleine.”

She deliberately summoned the memory of Aimery’s tender parting like a ward against evil. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

“No. He said he’d likely be gone a sennight, maybe longer. He may have left word with Geoffrey.”

“A sennight?” Madeline echoed with horror.

The squire was her next quarry. “Geoffrey,” Madeleine demanded, “where has Aimery gone?”

The young man paled. “Er ... he didn’t say, Lady.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

She saw him swallow. “He said earlier he thought of visiting the other manors ...”

“Without you? With only three men?”

He bit his lip, then offered hopefully, “It was doubtless something to do with the messenger, Lady Madeleine.”

Madeleine’s fears abated. At last. An explanation. She poured herself a beaker of ale. “What messenger?”

“A messenger passed through from the queen en route for the king. He spoke to Lord Aimery.”

The beaker never reached Madeleine’s lips. “The messenger didn’t bring a written message to Baddersley?”

“No, Lady Madeleine.”

Madeleine put the beaker down untouched and went into the solar, remembering at last that when she’d admitted she didn’t know whether he was a traitor or not, he had not affirmed his loyalty, but said, “Nor do I.”

The whole golden scene fell into a new, bleak pattern. As soon as she’d moved to thwart his plan to join the rebels, he’d turned her up sweet and rutted her senses clean out of her. What a fool he must think her.

How convenient that a royal messenger had passed through at such a time, doubtless just stopping for refreshment. What would Aimery claim the message had been? A request for some vague minor service which would cover his journey to meet Hereward and Edwin? What a fool he must think her. No royal message came by word of mouth and he wouldn’t go on legitimate business without Geoffrey.

Tears of betrayal burst in her eyes and she threw her much-abused basket at the wall just as Dorothy came in. The woman hurried to pick up the spilled herbs.

“I’ll gut him!” Madeleine muttered. “I’ll put teasels in his braies so he’ll dance from here to London.” She tore off her kirtle and shift. “He won’t have to worry about the king gelding him, I’ll do it myself!”

“Who? What?” The woman stared at her.

Madeleine realized she was standing stark naked and grabbed clean clothes from a chest and put them on. “Aimery de Gaillard, the low, scheming bastard.” She scrubbed at the tears streaming down her face. “He played on me like a lyre—a right pretty tune, too—then sneaked away . . .”

“Lord Aimery rode out in armor with three men and two packhorses, Lady.”

Madeleine swung on her. “And what has that to do with anything? He said he wouldn’t go!”

Dorothy rolled her eyes and poured her mistress a goblet of wine. “Drink this, Lady. You’ve been too long in the sun.”

Madeleine took a deep draft. She felt painfully used. Then she had a worse thought. All his recent thaw dated back to the time she’d threatened to betray him to the king. Was that all it had been, a way of besotting her out of her honor? Her misery was as sharp as a blade.

There was a rap on the door. Dorothy opened it, and Geoffrey entered hesitantly.

“Yes?” said Madeleine curtly.

“Lord Aimery did leave a message, Lady Madeleine.”

Hope burst in her, full-blown. “What?” she demanded. “How could you have forgotten?”

“It is not to do with his journey,” Geoffrey said. “Or not about where he’s gone ...”

Madeleine could have screamed. “What is it?”

Like a boy repeating a lesson, Geoffrey said, “He said he was sorry. And he’d pick up where he left off on his return.” The squire looked at her and added warily, “He departed in a mighty hurry, Lady.”

Geoffrey, too, left in a mighty hurry, a hair’s breadth ahead of a flung goblet.

“Oh, he will, will he?” muttered Madeleine. “Over my dead body . . .”

“Lady Madeleine!” moaned Dorothy, wringing her hands.

“He’ll never do this to me again,” said Madeleine fiercely. “No matter how my body clamors, I will not be used like this again.” She seized the carved crucifix from the wall. “You are my witness, Dorothy. I promise— nay, I
vow
—never to lie with Aimery de Gaillard again until he proves he is true to the king and me both!”

Dorothy went pale and crossed herself. “Oh, Lady, take it back. You can’t deny your husband.”

Madeleine hung up the crucifix again. “It is done. Well. Let’s get back to work.”

As she checked the kitchens and the pens of poultry awaiting death, Madeleine’s thoughts were all of Aimery.

He’d ride into Baddersley in a week or so, and she’d be able to tell him then just what she thought of him.

He’d ride into Baddersley with a perfect explanation of his absence, and she would happily beg his forgiveness for her wicked doubts.

He’d be sent back to Baddersley in pieces . . .

A wave of nausea passed over her at the thought of him blind, or without hands or genitals. She sent up fervent prayers for his safety. “Only send him safe home to me,” she whispered, “and I’ll make sure he does not stray again.”

How she was to achieve that she didn’t know.

Someone cleared his throat. Madeleine looked around to see a soldier. “Lord Hugh sends to say Odo de Pouissey approaches with four attendants. Are we to admit him?”

Odo? What more shocks could the day bring? He was someone she’d rather not see, but she couldn’t refuse hospitality. “Of course. I will come to greet him.”

The man trotted off. Needing something to bolster her dignity, Madeleine took the time to enter the solar and drape a wimple over her head and shoulders. By the time she reached the hall doors, Odo was swinging off his horse in the bailey. He came over and gave her a familiar kiss on the cheek, then looked around. “I see you and de Gaillard have been working on the place, but it’s not much even so. A proper stone castle and walls. That’s what a man needs these days.”

As she led him into the hall, he went on about the glorious campaign underway to crush the English rebels once and for all, and to build castles to keep them in order. “The king’s ordered one built at Warwick and is giving it into the charge of Henry de Beaumont. I have no doubt I can soon win such an honor.”

Madeleine ordered food and ale for him and his men, and provisions for his horses. Odo’s was a clear case of sour grapes and wishful thinking, but she didn’t ill-wish him. If he could achieve glory and win himself a castle, she had no objection, as long as it was in another area of the country.

One part of his monologue did interest her, however. “So the rebellion is over?” she asked. If so, Aimery would be in no danger.

Odo tore a large lump of pork off the bone with his teeth and washed it down with ale, half-chewed. He wiped his mouth and belched. “All but. William has only to appear before a city for it to open its gates and beg pardon. If I were him, I’d lop a few heads and stick them on pikes and have done with this once and for all.”

Aimery’s head on a pike . . . “And what of that Hereward?” Madeleine asked, refilling his flagon. “I heard he was to join Earls Edwin and Gospatric.”

He turned on her with surprising alertness. “Where heard you that?”

“Rumors, no more,” said Madeleine cautiously, praying he would say something of what was on his mind.

She needn’t have worried. Odo was incapable of keeping quiet about anything which might be to his own self-aggrandizement. He grinned. “I heard rumors, too, as I was riding south. More than rumors. I received sure word that Hereward is out of the Fens. He and a large force are lurking in Halver Wood not far north of here. Too many for my men to tackle, but I sent word to the king. He’ll send a force and that will be the end of that weasel.”

Madeleine fought to hide her sick dread. Hereward was out of the Fens and had sent for his nephew. “Do you intend to wait here until then and take part in the fighting?” She heard the thinness of her voice and cursed herself.

He smirked, unobservant as always. “Lonely, are you? Where is your fancy husband anyway?”

“East,” Madeleine said quickly. “He’s gone to visit his estate of Rolleston.”

Odo shrugged. “It was always clear he didn’t want you, so you’ve no cause for complaint if he’s neglecting you.” He looked over her plain dress. “And you haven’t even cajoled out of him any of that gold that dazzled you. He probably has a buxom Saxon Danelaw wife tucked away at Rolleston, dripping with his spare jewelry.”

Madeleine pinned a faint, unconcerned smile on her face, while splinters of bitter jealousy tormented her. Was it possible? A
manno Danico
marriage didn’t block a Christian one. King Harold had been married in the Danish style for twenty years to Edith Swannehals and had taken Eadgyth of Mercia at the church door to solidify support for his claim to the throne.

But what did that matter anyway if her husband was riding to his death?

“Aimery and I are dealing together very well,” she lied. “Do you intend a stay here, Odo?”

He shook his head. “Though the food’s improved. I’m under orders south to the queen,” he said importantly, “to be captain of the advance guard to bring her north.”

“Bring her north?” Madeleine queried in surprise. “Into the middle of a rebellion? She’s eight months pregnant.”

Odo shrugged. “The rebellion’s as good as over, and the king wants her with him when the child is born.”

Madeleine thought darkly of men and their lack of consideration, but a large part of her mind was on Aimery.

Odo had sent word to the king about Hereward. William would surely send an army, maybe go with one himself, to finally capture that thorn in his flesh, and find he had Golden Hart in his grasp, too.

Aimery had surely guessed something of this. She remembered him saying,
Remember me,
even as he thrust into her. As if he were going to oblivion.

She swallowed tears. What was she to do?

Let him stew in his own juice, said a bitter part of her, but it was only a very small part.

She turned to Odo. “Do you ride on immediately then?”

He nodded. “Just thought I’d stop since we were passing close, and find better food than we carry. And a spare horse if you have one. One of ours has a sore leg.”

Madeleine arranged for a fresh mount and soon had the satisfaction of seeing him on his way. Then she went into the stables, ostensibly to check on the injured horse.

“Just a strain, Lady,” the stable groom said. “Soon remedied.”

“Good.” Madeleine leaned against a post and said idly, “Do you know where Halver Wood is, John?”

“Aye, Lady,” he responded readily and without suspicion. “It be north of here half a morning’s ride. Off the old road a bit and toward Gormanby.”

Madeleine left armed with directions which were doubtless clear enough to the local people but mystifying to her. Half a morning’s ride. Aimery would already be there then. But even if she couldn’t stop him, someone had to warn him of the danger. How?

She went into the solar and pressed damp hands together nervously. She had sworn to expose Aimery if she had proof of treason, but here she was trying to abet him. If the king could capture the magical symbol who was Hereward, and the other who was Golden Hart, he could break the back of English resistance to Norman rule. It was her duty to support that in every way possible.