Malia Martin (29 page)

“Your husband is a good man, milady.” Berthilde laid another loaf of bread on the table. “He saved a poor girl today from certain death in the forest.”

Aleene looked up at her maid, then shrugged. “You no longer help me at my bath, Berthilde. I assume you have too much to do?”

“Nan will do well enough, I should think.”

“No she will not.” Aleene sat back on her bench. Truly, it did not seem to matter anymore. She had insisted upon Berthilde’s assistance before because the old woman knew Aleene’s secrets. Berthilde knew that since her stepfather had begun visiting her at night, Aleene could barely stand to look at herself, much less show herself to another. That fear had dissipated, though, with all that had happened to her. Aleene could have accepted another’s help, she was sure. But she did not want anyone else to help her.

Aleene stared up at Berthilde. Her gaze took in the old woman’s familiar brown eyes, the gray hair that crinkled just so at her temples. They had been through much together, this woman who had been more of a mother than Aleene’s true parent. “I shall have no one if you cannot help me.”

“That may be difficult.”

“It does not matter.” Aleene shrugged.

“He is sending the women out with an escort of soldiers to find others who may be hungry or cold.”

Aleene tore off a piece of bread and dunked it in her stew. “Who?” she asked, not really caring.

“Robert, of course.”

“This stew is wonderful.” Aleene sopped up some more of the steaming broth with her bread. “Did someone go hunting? It tastes like fresh meat.”

“Robert brought home a hare. He said he would get more tomorrow, but today he found the girl.”

“The girl?”

Berthilde huffed and rested her fists on her hips. “I do not like this way of yours at all, Lady Aleene, you are acting the part of a spoiled child!”

A tiny spark of some emotion penetrated her apathy for a moment, and Aleene stiffened. “I don’t remember how to act the spoiled child, Berthilde, the opportunity was taken away from me rather early in life.”

“Well, you seem to be remembering well enough. You are needed, milady, I have work enough to do without having to take on your responsibilities also.” She turned, her skirts throwing up a breath of dusty rushes and stalked toward the door that led out to the cooking area.

Aleene’s flare of defiance sputtered to nothing, and she turned back to her food. She just did not care, could not make herself care. Without looking about her again, she ate the rest of her dinner and left the table.

“Milord, a message for you.” A young boy came running through the bailey, a man on horseback coming up behind him. Robert looked up from the young girl to whom he was speaking. Nan and her companions had found three children, one with her mother, in the forests the day before. He had sent them out again today, and meanwhile was trying to learn from each of the children if they had any family living. He patted the girl on the head and told her to run in to Berthilde.

“What is it, Peter?” Robert turned, knowing he had gotten the boy’s name right when the boy beamed.

“A messenger from William!” Peter announced triumphantly. Robert had given him the
duty of standing at the gate and bringing any news.

Robert nodded. “Thank you, lad, ’tis good work you do.”

The boy grinned and went running back to the gate and his post. The messenger dismounted as he reached the bailey, handing the reigns to another boy who came running from the stables.

“Robert de Guise, of Seabreeze Castle?” The messenger asked, walking up to Robert.

Flinching at the name, Robert nodded. He recognized the young man as Frederick, one of William’s squires.

“I’m to await an answer,” Frederick said as he handed over a rolled parchment.

Robert eyed the young man. He had always joked and kidded with the boys of William’s company, but Frederick did not smile, or even offer a friendly hello. Obviously, Robert was persona non grata in William’s ranks now. Of course, he did not fear outright hostility. Robert had risked his life to bring William’s amazing feat of landing an entire military force on English soil to fruition, not to mention fighting valiantly at Hastings.

Still, Robert was obviously not rising higher in his liege’s esteem. With a sigh, he unrolled the parchment and read, scanning the neatly penned message quickly.

Christmas Day was to be William’s coronation. Relief surged through Robert. At least the fighting was over, he hoped. He looked back up at Frederick. “This does not give me much time to get to London,” he said.

“He wishes you to attend, sir.” The boy gripped his hands together in front of him. “May I tell him to expect you?”

“If I do not come myself, I will be sure to send a representative.” Robert gazed toward the direction of the fort. “Or perhaps representatives.”

“He will be disappointed if it is not you, sir.”

Robert detected the warning in Frederick’s young voice. “I shall do my best.”

The boy stared for a moment into Robert’s eyes, as if unsure of whether to press for a more affirmative answer.

“Go, tell William I am happy for him. He has succeeded where many thought he would fail,” Robert said sincerely.

Frederick hesitated a moment, then nodded. “May I quench my thirst before I go?”

“Of course!” Robert pointed to the door of the great hall. “We have food and ale, boy. I shall send someone in to serve you.”

Frederick relaxed a bit. “Thank you, sir.” He went to the hall.

Robert was probably going to catch hell from William for what he planned, but at least the rambunctious men with nothing to do at the fort would finally be gone. He went and told Berthilde of their visitor, then headed for the fort.

The men were drunk and lying about in their own filth. Robert was sorely tempted to plug his nose when the leader came barreling up to him, breathing heavily in his face.

“Lord Robert! Have you come to celebrate with us?”

“You’ve heard the news then?” Robert backed away quickly. “Are you not going to the coronation?”

“Weren’t given orders to leave our post, sir.” The man slurred his words so horribly, Robert was hard pressed to understand him.

“But surely you and your men would enjoy such a great event?”

“Aha!” The man let out a great belly laugh. “And that we would, sir!”

“I’ll tell you true, man, I have already written to William telling him that there is no need
for this fort to stay intact. I have an entire garrison of men at Seabreeze who will keep order here. 1 also just told William’s personal messenger that I would send you and your men as representatives for me at his coronation.”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement. “Really? What a fine thing!”

“Yes, so, if you think to make it before Christmas Day, I suggest you form ranks and get moving!” Robert ended his enthusiastic suggestion with a hard thwack on the garrison leader’s back. He coughed and stumbled forward, nearly landing face first in the dirt.

Robert wished he could hit him harder, this time somewhere it would be terribly painful, but he stayed his hand.

“Yes, sir.” The man finally managed to stand upright. “We will do just that!”

Robert smiled, nodded, and went on his way. He would write another message to William assuring him that the garrison at Seabreeze was quite capable of defending Pevensey and keeping order. Whatever happened, Robert would not accept a garrison of William’s men back in Pevensey. None of the people who now looked to Robert for protection would be hurt ever again.

Aleene sat in her father’s chair tracing one of the stars carved into the dark wooden arm. She heard the knock at the door, but did not acknowledge it. When Robert walked into the room, she glanced up, then away from the sight of his large, imposing form in the doorway. His shoulders nearly touched either side of the frame, and, again, Aleene wondered how she could have mistaken him for a half-wit poacher.

Aleene quickly shut her mind to those devastating memories. She stared hard at the carvings on her father’s old chair and set herself to tracing them again. Over and over, her finger never left the smooth wood.

“I have ordered you a bath,” Robert stated.

Aleene said nothing.

“I have set some men to building crofts for the people left homeless.”

Aleene bent her head to her task. People left homeless because of her failure, she thought, closing her eyes and willing the guilt to oblivion.

She heard another knock, then the sound of bustling about the room. She did not look, tried not to care.

“Get in the tub, Aleene.”

A tiny shiver of alarm shook her. Bathe? In front of Robert?

His large hands curled about her upper arms and hauled her from the chair. It took all of her willpower not to fight, and all of her strength to blank her mind to what was happening.

Robert set her down and began undoing the ties at her throat. “I think back to only a few days ago when you threw things at me, and I would give anything to have that Aleene back with me now.” Robert’s voice was low as if he spoke only to himself. “And I tried to halt the tirade.” He chuckled without humor. The old, dirty gown she wore dropped to her feet. “I would allow it now, exalt in it.” His fingers curled about the bottom edge of her chemise and pulled upward.

Willing her soul into a very small, dark corner of her body, Aleene allowed herself to be undressed. She stared at one spot on the wall and thought of nothing. The steam rising from the tub caressed her legs, licking up toward her belly when Robert put her into the tub. He pushed her gently down so that she sat.

Aleene kept to her corner. Still, she could feel his hands against her skin as he rubbed
soap into her back. She had lost the knack to separate from herself. Before, when she had done this, she had ceased to feel as well as care.

With that thought, the memories began to trickle into her mind. The footsteps coming toward her small chamber, the putrid smell of an unwashed body, the hands touching her roughly, hurting her.

Aleene clenched her hands, drew up her knees and hugged them. She was that person again, the small, helpless girl, controlled by everything but her own will. She was dark, ugly, unlike the golden-haired people around her. She was different. She was bad. She lived without love.

She shivered and bent her head forward to cradle it on her knees. No. She could not let it happen again.

She stood, water sluicing from her body, splashing to the floor. “Get away from me,” she yelled and stumbled from the tub. “Don’t touch me!” She backed away from the man who stood watching her with a frown. The image of Tosig danced before her eyes, and she hit out at it. “You can’t do this to me again, never again. I will not let you!”

“Aleene!”

“No!” She hit out again. “I can’t stand it any longer.” She closed her eyes then, putting her arms about herself and crouching down to the floor. “I don’t want to be different.” She dropped her head to her knees again.

“Aleene.” She flinched as his hands touched her shoulders, but didn’t move away. The memories had receded and she knew it was Robert, not Tosig who touched her. He would not hurt her.

She sighed, knowing that she was no longer the small girl vulnerable to everyone and everything. And yet, she still felt ugly and bad. She was different from those around her. She was dark, not of English blood, and she had betrayed the people she had so wanted to accept her. She had hurt them by doing stupid things. She
was
bad.

Aleene began to tremble. She felt Robert’s arms about her, but they provided no warmth, her teeth chattered together, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms.

“Come, Aleene, we must get you warm.” Robert picked her up and took her to the bed. He wrapped her in a blanket and laid her down, curling up behind her. “Shh.” He rubbed her through the cover, then brushed the wet tendrils of hair from her face. “It will be all right, everything will be all right.”

Aleene shook her head, knowing nothing would ever be all right again. “It cannot be all right.”

“It can.”

“I failed, in everything I failed. I was a traitor, and now my people hate me. They have a foreign king and I am a foreign lady.” Aleene felt a tear finally drop down her cheek. “Oh, how I failed in everything.”

“You, Aleene, are no traitor. Were there any other landowners in London trying to rally troops against William?”

“There was a soldier who had fought with Harold.”

“Were there any other women?”

That quieted her. “But I did it from guilt. I brought William here with my treachery. I opposed Harold’s will. I would not marry the one he chose for me.”

“The one he chose was the traitor, Aleene. I saw him, Aethregard, with William while we camped outside London.”

Fury shot through Aleene’s body, chasing the chill from her with its heat. “Aethregard! He came to the meetings with the archbishops proclaiming William’s right to the throne.” She sat up, hugging the blanket to her body. “I shall kill him.”

Robert sat next to her, wrapping a large arm about her shoulders. “He was not worthy of you, Aleene.”

She turned to her husband. “I would never. have married that spineless bastard.”

A smile lit Robert’s face. “Do I hear my Aleene?”

She frowned. “What nonsense do you speak, Robert? Who else is here in this room?”

Robert laughed outright. “When I entered there was a timid mouse sitting in that chair.” He pointed to the large chair in the corner.

“Afraid of everything, shutting it all from her mind, she was.”

Aleene stared at the chair a moment, her hate for Aethregard withering before the memories of her own traitorous activity. “She is still here, Robert.”

“Why?” Robert gripped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Why is she here? What are you afraid of?”

“I am afraid of myself. I hurt the people I only ever wished to make love me.”

“Aleene.” Robert shook her, not roughly but gently. “You hurt no one. If anyone here
should make recompense ’tis I. You did not bring William here. He would have come even if you had tortured and killed me in your dungeon.”

Aleene could only gaze into her husband’s eyes. Those beautiful sky-blue eyes that had made her trust him, love him. “I know.” She hung her head. “I know. But now we crown a foreign king, and we shall all suffer for it. I wish I could have stopped it somehow. And I didn’t.” She looked back at Robert. “I didn’t stop it, and while it was happening, I loved you. I loved an enemy. I prayed for you on the day of battle, not my people, not my king, you!”