Lord of the Mist (30 page)

Godshall’s head snapped up. He surged to his feet. “Nay. I
demand you release me!” he cried.

“You demand!” the king shouted. “We demand! You obey!”

No one moved. Cristina’s throat dried. She could not look at
the still, silent lake.

Godshall moaned and tore away from his captors. He drew his
dagger and charged the king.

Durand stepped before John, and as Godshall attacked was
borne to the ground beneath him.

Cristina screamed. The king’s men fell upon Godshall and
snatched him away. She dropped on her knees beside Durand.

Godshall’s blade was buried in his stomach.

The king knelt at her side. He helped her pull off Durand’s
helm and coif as Durand struggled for air.

A young boy’s reed-thin voice wailed his father’s name.
Penne and Luke escorted Adrian and Robert to their father’s side. Robert burst
into tears and fell on his knees at his father’s side. Adrian, more aloof, but
white-faced, stood off to one side.

“Cristina. My sons,” Durand said in a gasp.

Cristina shoved both king and son aside. “Give him space. He
needs air.”

Durand licked his lips and put his hands to the blade handle
protruding from his middle. “‘Tis the Aelfric.” To a moan from his son, he
jerked the blade out.

Cristina did not know whether to laugh or cry. She knew
there was only one way to show Durand’s worried sons that he would be fine. She
helped Durand open his tunic and pull out the herbal. No blood stained the book
or Durand’s middle.

She handed the book to Robert. The deep cut in the wooden
cover showed where Godshall’s blade had embedded itself. Luke and Penne, along
with the king, helped Durand to his feet.

“You’ll have a bellyache for a few days,” the king said. As
Cristina watched, the king put off his concern and donned his royal demeanor.
“Bring him here,” he pointed to Godshall.

Torches smoked. Fog wreathed the shore and obscured the
smoldering ruins of the mock ships and castles. There was no sign of Sabina.

“We have seen much this day, Godshall. You are accused in
the attack upon Bishop Dominic’s party. How say you?”

Godshall was a dead man. Cristina saw the man’s knowledge of
it on his face. He had tried to kill a king.

The man straightened his spine. “Aye. Sabina took the
Aelfric for Simon le Gros. He told us he earned just two rings, one for her and
one for him, the lying dog.”

He struggled in his guard’s arms. “The fool told us the true
value of the book, and she thought ‘twould be worth taking back and selling
again. Churches are fat.” He slipped to his knees. “I had not the wealth to
have her.” He began to sob. “I loved her.”

“Then you must join her,” the king said. With a quick jerk
of the royal hand, Godshall was dragged away.

“Now, de Marle. Let us deal with your sins against us.”

Penne and Luke ranged themselves at Durand’s side. His sons
moved closer, too, their faces pale in the dying flames.

“By rights, you should forfeit your life and the lives of
your children.”

Cristina put her hand in Durand’s. He squeezed it.

“But we recognize the deed done this day in our service. We
recognize, too, the injustice visited upon Mistress le Gros.”

With that he swept back his mantle and scratched at the back
of his neck. “Go free, Durand de Marle, and take with you whomever you please.”
With a nod, he included Luke, Penne, and the boys. “But go without title or
land, and never enter England or France again. What say you?”

Durand went down on one knee. “I ask nothing, sire, but safe
conduct for my family.”

“Granted.”

Edward De Warre rushed forward and made a deep bow. “Sire, I
beg of you, do not allow this man to go. He’ll foment trouble among your
barons. You’re too kind. Too easy.”

The king turned to the crowd who had gathered. “Too easy?”
he asked the people. “Is banishment easy?”

De Warre impaled Durand with a hard look. “He came in secret
to remove his sons whom we held as surety to his good favor. For that alone, he
deserves death.”

“Aye,” the king acknowledged with a nod, “but we recognize
his bravery in saving his king’s life. As we know he has loved and served us
well, we send him hence with safe conduct.”

Cristina trembled. She knew King John was not known for a
generous gesture. She clung to Durand’s hand for strength as de Warre protested
anew.

“Sire,” de Warre interrupted. “I fear—”

The king began to laugh. “What fear have we of this man? He
has no influence, no power. He is lord of nothing. Lord of naught but the
mist.”

* * * * *

Durand’s sons rode behind Luke and Penne. Cristina rode in
the shelter of Durand’s arms. When they reached the crossroads, Cristina could
bear it no longer. “Stop, Durand.”

He drew Marauder to a halt. The rest of the party also drew
up. She shimmied from Durand’s arms and dropped to the ground.

“I can go no further.” She smoothed her skirts down.

The horses ringed her. Adrian and Robert, who knew her not,
watched her with avid curiosity. Durand threw his leg over the front of the
saddle and dismounted.

“Let me guess,” Durand said. “You feared in some way we
might leave without Felice.”

She burst into tears. “I cannot go without her.”

Durand smiled. “And I never planned to do so.” He held her
tightly. “Trust me. We’ll make a camp here for the night.”

The men helped the women to dismount. They led the horses
into the depth of the woods, keeping the little stream on their right. The
light grew purple and green the deeper into the forest they walked. The fog
muffled their steps.

They found a small hollow with a sheltering canopy of
branches. It would serve for the night, but Oriel needed the warmth of an abbey
house, at least. Durand thanked God he had a heavy purse to see her comfortable
until they were far from John’s reach and retribution should he renege on his
generosity.

With great awkwardness, Durand introduced Cristina to his
sons. They bowed to her, but Adrian watched her with wariness, and Robert with
open confusion.

“Luke,” Durand said. “You have no need to be a part of my
punishment. Go back and offer your services to the king. Mayhap one day he will
reward you with Ravenswood.” He then turned to Nona. “You, too, have no need to
suffer from this. John does not yet know you aided me. Return with me when I
get Felice and make some excuse for your absence.”

“I go with you,” Luke said. “Ravenswood is naught but stone
and wood—replaceable.”

Penne lowered himself to the ground on a mantle he had
spread out for Oriel. “Don’t tell me to leave. I knew what I risked by aiding
you. We’re content to make a new start somewhere else, are we not, Oriel? And
without William Marshall, John will never triumph over Philip.”

Durand put his arm about Robert’s shoulders. The boy leaned
against him. “Are you sure, Penne? You’ll soon have your own child to see to.”

Oriel drew Penne’s hand to her waist. “We’re sure. I was so
sure he would die in Normandy. Now—” She broke off and buried her face against
Penne’s neck.

“Then I want you to wait here. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
He set his son aside with a quick ruffle of his hair. Then he walked to where
Cristina stood alone. He kissed her fingers. In moments he had mounted up.

“Go with God,” Cristina whispered as he disappeared into the
shadows. She sat on a fallen log and watched the boys. They skirted around her,
finally perching near Luke and Penne. The men and boys recounted the events of
the mock battle, the shock of Godshall’s attack on the king. Their words became
a drone. Fear and fatigue put her to sleep.

* * * * *

The snort of a horse and jangle of harness woke her. Leaping
to her feet, she dashed blindly into the trees. ‘Twas him, a bundle in his arms.
She grabbed Durand’s reins.

“Are you looking for this baggage?” he asked, smiling down
at her. He bent near to place Felice, wrapped in thick blankets, into her
outstretched arms. She whirled away and sank to the ground on her knees.

Durand dismounted and knelt at her side. He watched Cristina
pull open her gown. He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek. “I love
you,” he said.

Cristina pressed against his hand. “She will be mine, will
she not? I mean, I could act as her mother. I could—”

“Hush,” he said, laying a finger to her lips. “As my wife,
you will be mother to my children. And she is mine.”

She lay her head on his shoulder and he embraced them both.

When Felice was fed, Durand lifted his daughter into his
arms. “I wondered if you could still feed her.”

She put her arm about his waist. “I worried about it day and
night, but I chewed parsley to keep my milk, so see, everything has worked as
it should. Was Rose much disturbed when you took her?”

Durand laughed. “Oh, Rose was more startled than concerned.
Felice was shrieking her head off, and I merely lifted her up and she stopped
instantly. I gave Rose a very courtly bow and left.”

“Oh, my,” Cristina said. “Rose will miss the extra pennies.”

“By the expression on her husband’s face, he’ll not miss the
noise!”

Durand and Cristina entered the clearing. Nona was preparing
a simple meal of bread and cheese from her saddle bags. Food might become a
difficulty, Durand thought.

He sent his sons to fish in the little stream. When they
were out of earshot, he called for his friends’ attention.

“Luke knows of what I am to say, but as I rode back to this
place with Felice in my arms, I thought I must tell everyone of this child
here, for she represents much to me—betrayal, love, lust, and even forgiveness.

“When the king and I visited Ravenswood last summer, Marion
and I fought over her flirtations. We slept apart. And thus, I am not Felice’s
father. Who is has tortured me in many ways. Not the least of which is knowing
I had failed my wife. Pride would not allow me rest. I had to know Felice’s
sire.”

No one spoke. Only Nona and Penne’s faces registered
surprise.

Durand lifted Felice and kissed her cheek. “But Cristina
showed me that if not in blood, still this babe is mine to care for and before
you all, I claim her as mine, daughter in name, and now, close to my heart.”

He put out his hand to Cristina. “When we find a priest, I
will wed the woman I love and give Felice a mother. Will you take my brother as
your husband?” he asked Nona.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know if I can wed the Lord of
Skirts,” she said softly.

Luke shot to his feet. “Lord of Skirts! I’m sick of that
appellation. I’m guilty of naught more than coveting Lady Nona when I knew she
was for Durand,” he swore to the company. “I’ve done naught to be ashamed of,
and when I wed—
if
I wed—I will be the most faithful of husbands!”

“What of your list of lovers?” Nona rose just as swiftly. “A
list so long ‘twas a source of great amusement—”

“That was Durand’s doing.” Luke swept a hand out to his
brother. “He could not see Cristina suffer and sought to raise some doubt as to
Simon’s guilt that he might save
her.
If you listened well, you heard
the king ask me who visited the counting room. I collect the Ravenswood rents,
you know. I see every man, woman, and child in the manor in that room!”

Nona stared at him but a moment, then threw her arms about
his neck with a soft cry of joy. She kissed Luke’s cheek, and, along with a
promise of eternal love, she also extracted a promise he put off using
Cristina’s rank hair preparation no matter how bald he might become.

“Well, I’m sadly disillusioned,” Penne said with a laugh.
“How the famed lord has fallen. Now there will be no one left at Ravenswood to
flatter the ladies and soothe their troubled spirits.”

The words struck Cristina as if it were she who had taken
Godshall’s dagger to her middle and not Durand. She thought of how Simon’s son,
Hugh, had reminded her of Felice. She thought of how her husband had inquired
so of Lady Marion as she lay dying. She remembered well how often Lady Marion
had called Simon to the keep when first they had come to Ravenswood.

Cristina looked at Oriel who dropped her gaze and bit her
lip. “It was Simon, was it not, Oriel? He flattered Lady Marion and soothed her
troubled spirits, did he not?” She found it did not hurt as she expected. Nor
was it quite so great a surprise. “Come, admit it, Oriel; they are beyond our
touch and want only our forgiveness.”

Durand looked down at Felice. “You think—”

“I said nothing for Cristina’s sake, Durand,” Oriel said. “I
thought ‘twas just another of Marion’s passing fancies that would disappear
like the morning dew once you returned. Only you did not…and when she found
herself with child…”

“Say no more,” Durand said. “She knew well my anger.” Cristina
saw regret upon his face.

“I’m sorry, Durand, Cristina,” Oriel said softly. “I think
she might have loved Simon in her own way. And forgive me; I did little to
discourage her, for I was already very jealous of her and thought she would
turn her attentions to Penne.” She put her head on her husband’s shoulder.

Durand shook his head. “Forgiveness has never been one of my
strengths, but this time I find it simple. And I must put this behind me. I
have sons to care for, and now a daughter.” He held out his hand to Cristina.
“You taught me many things, trust and forgiveness among them.”

* * * * *

Several hours later, when his children were sleeping, Durand
placed Felice in Oriel’s arms. “Practice your mothering skills,” he said.

He drew a mantle from his saddlebag and tossed it over his
arm. He then took Cristina’s hand and led her into the purple and black shadows
of the woods.

They walked for what seemed over a league to her. When he
stopped, it was in a tiny clearing. Moonlight washed the small glade bright as
day. It gilded the gold on his mantle. When he swept out a hand in invitation,
she went to him.

He stripped quickly and dropped to the mantle. Every fiber
of his body went taut with anticipation as he watched her unlace her gown. With
a sudden modesty, she turned away. Her gown fell to the ground. The soft linen
underdress joined it.

She set her hair free to tumble down her back. When she
turned, his breath caught, and it had naught to do with the injuries to his
body. “I dreamed of this here, in this place,” he whispered, offering his hand
to her so she might come and lie at his side. “It made me curse the dawn for
sweeping the dream away.”