Rivals for the Crown (30 page)

"Do you believe it? All the Christian teachings? Do you believe

it?"

Sarah shrugged. "It is not so difficult. I will learn it."

"Do Mama and Papa know?"

"It was Mama's idea. We're not going to tell Papa, until after we're wed."

Rachel's mind raced. "But—"

"Mama says we need to survive, and if this is what it takes, then I should do it. She says that our God has not protected us, He's abandoned us. And so I will abandon Him. Edgar loves me, Rachel. He is a good man and I will be the best wife I know how to be. I will have my own home and I will never be forced out of it in the middle of the night."

"What about your children?"

"They will be raised as Christians. When they are grown I will tell them the truth and they can decide for themselves."

"Will you let them visit us?"

"Of course! I'm only changing my name, Rachel."

"And your religion. And where you live. And who you are. And have been."

Sarah smiled a tight smile. "Do not judge me, Rachel. Where has God been in all our travails? Where was He for Isabel? She did no wrong, but she was once a lady-in-waiting to a queen, and now she serves ale in a tavern in another country. And her own mother has abandoned her. There is no God, Rachel, just our own idea of Him. Which I no longer believe. We decide, ourselves, whether to

do right or wrong, whether to be good or evil. For some, it is fear that keeps them within the law, but for others it is a greater sense of good. I do not think any religion can make a bad person good. Or protect a good person from bad happening to them. It was chance that brought Edgar to me, and I intend to hold him. He is a good man, and in our house religion will take a second place to love. I will worship where he worships, and truly, there is little difference between the two. Wish me well, Rachel, please." Sarah pulled the cover over her shoulder and turned to face the wall. "It's your turn now. We'll see who—and what—you choose."

Or who and what chooses me. Rachel stared into the dark.

Isabel was wonderful, Rachel thought a week later, watching, from the shade of the tavern wall, as her friend brought in a tray loaded with food. What a transformation in her. Isabel had arrived pale and thin and with a heart so heavy that she'd cried every day. The time she'd spent here in Berwick with Rachel's family, Rachel was proud to say, had healed her.

Isabel was full of ideas for improvements for the inn. This summer had been very warm. The tavern room, which faced west, had been uncomfortably hot. Isabel had suggested that they serve food on the flat terrace behind the inn, where patrons could sit outside in the shade. The terrace was so popular that they'd enlarged it, then enlarged it again. And still new patrons came, waiting to be fed.

Her mother's food, always wonderful, was partly responsible. As were the comfortable rooms upstairs that were seldom unoccupied, and never more so than now, when half of Scotland was expected in Berwick. Edward had established a court of auditors to make the choices of who would be king.

The new court, along with everyone else who wanted to be here for the momentous decision, had already begun to fill the castle and now the town. Thus far Gilbert had been correct in predicting that none of the courtiers, nor anyone that Isabel knew would come to the inn. And those Englishmen who had come had paid no attention to Rachel or her family. Everyone at The Oak and The Ash sighed with relief. They all hoped that finding Scotland a new king would prove to be a simple process, but with so many involved in the decision, few believed that it would.

"One hundred and four auditors," Isabel said, coming to stand with Rachel.

"You have to stop reading my mind," Rachel said with a laugh. "I was just thinking of them."

"We're all thinking of them and the man who will accompany them. Who needs a hundred and four auditors? And why that number?"

"Forty are Balliol's nominees. Forty are Bruce's nominees. The rest are from Edward's council."

"Ah, at least they will represent the common man," Isabel said caustically.

"What court does, royal or otherwise? It's absurd. But who are we to care? We're making money from them for a change."

Isabel nodded. "How strange that King Edward is now responsible for refilling your coffers. Who would have thought that?"

"Who indeed?" Rachel laughed.

Isabel glanced around them. "Rachel, I heard you and Sarah talking last night. I couldn't help but hear. I know you don't want her to marry Edgar."

"It's not that. I knew she would marry someone. But she's changing everything about herself. She's becoming a completely different person."

"She loves him, and he loves her. Does it matter what God she prays to?"

"It does to my father. It is who we are, the rules by which we live. But, then I listen to her and what she says makes sense. But still.. .how can our heritage matter so little? And yet, I do want her to be happy. Is she right?"

Isabel frowned slightly. "There Is merit in what she says. Why should there be just one road to God, or to good? Why, Rachel? Look at what has happened to your family, to your people."

"Look at the history of man, Isabel. What I fear is that the sister I have always known, who has shared our history, and our people's history, is willing to walk away from all that. Just walk away into a different world."

"And leave you behind. That's what you fear, that the bond between you will be changed forever. And it will. Nothing stays the same. Just look at me."

"It feels like she cares more for him than for us."

"She is in love. She does not see it like that. She still loves all of you."

"My father is convinced their marriage will fail."

"I hope not," Isabel said, then shrank back against the stone. "Rachel, hide me! Oh, dear God, he's here!"

Rachel spun around, expecting to see Walter Langton, but the man who had just stepped through the inn door was far from the monster Isabel had described. He was extraordinarily handsome. He wore the uniform of a king's officer, the badge of a knight. She whirled back to Isabel.

"Is that Henry de Boyer?"

Isabel's eyes were huge. "Yes. Here. What do we do?"

"He is even more handsome than you said!" Rachel whispered, admiring de Boyer's even features and long limbs, his dark hair gleaming in the sun, curling just over his collar. "No wonder you found him memorable."

"He must not see me!" Isabel whispered. "What do we do?"

"I will distract him so you can make your escape."

Rachel stepped forward quickly, rounding de Boyer and drawing his attention to her when she asked if he needed her help in finding a seat.

"Yes, mistress, if you would," he said.

"Of course," Rachel answered, drawing him to a table at the other end of the terrace while Isabel darted through the door. She brought de Boyer a cup of ale and talked to him about food, then hurried inside to find Isabel.

She found her in the kitchen, deep in conversation with Mama, who wiped her apron and started for the door. "I must see this young man for myself. No one can be that handsome. No one."

"Mama! What about Isabel?"

"She must hide. Go upstairs, Isabel. If one of the king's knights has found us, more will follow. You will hide until they are gone,

no matter how long it takes. Welcome to the world of the exile, child. Don't look so startled. We knew they would come, just not when. Rachel, get back outside and feed our guests."

"This could endanger your family," Isabel said concerned.

Mama laughed harshly. "Oh, yes, you are far more dangerous to us than a city full of King Edward's soldiers. Go, child."

Isabel watched him from the room just under the attic. It was Henry. She'd had a moment of doubt after she'd darted up the stairs, wondering if she had lost her wits entirely and it was some other man downstairs. But of course it was not. It was Henry, looking even more appealing than he had in London. He was alone, which was curious, for surely he had tasks if he was here for the king, and of course he must be, for what else could have brought him to Berwick? She should have realized some of the king's courtiers or knights would find the inn, with its reputation for serving the best food in the city.

What if he was staying here? She knelt beside the open window and peered out. How long would it take to choose a king? Days? Months? She watched while he ate his meal, laughed with Rachel, and ordered more ale and a cup of wine. Her heart sank. He was waiting for someone.

She sat down on the floor, her back to the wall, then leapt up again as she heard Alis's voice. Alis de Braun, of all people. Here,

of all places. Her heart pounded. Why was Alis here? The king had not yet arrived. Why was a lady of his court here before him?

She peered out again. Yes, Alis sat with Henry, wearing a blue silk gown and cream underskirt and wimple. Her neckline was low and she leaned forward often, as though she did not know how much of her lovely bosom she revealed. Her headdress was unadorned but elegant. Even her shoes were exquisite. She sat across the table from him, simpering, smiling. Ignoring Rachel, who served the food. And then there was a shrill cry, a scrape of wooden chair on stone, and Rachel's clear and calm voice.

"I'm so sorry. Here, let me dab at it and try to get the stain out."

"It is fine," Alis said with annoyance. "Truly."

"I insist that you come to the kitchen. My mother will know just what to do."

"That's hardly necessary," Alis said.

"I insist," Rachel said smoothly, smiling at both Alis and Henry. "I do insist that you come with me."

"Very well," Alis said and rose to follow Rachel.

Isabel could see Rachel's smug smile and laughed quietly to herself. Rachel was wonderful. Isabel knew just what her friend would do next, and a moment later she was proved correct, for Rachel returned and talked quietly to Henry. Rachel laughed at

something Henry said, then left him to serve the other patrons. Henry looked around him. Then, as though he knew she was there, he looked right at Isabel.

THIRTEEN

For a moment, just the briefest breath of time, she stood frozen,

then pulled back into the shadow of the room, her heart pounding. Had he seen her? Of course he had. But, no, she was in the dim room and he was in the bright sunlight. But she had seen his expression change. He'd seen her. He knew she was here.

She threaded her fingers together and paced the room, then stopped, knowing her footsteps could be heard below her. She sank to the floor, where she sat while the long rays of evening came and dimmed, while the noise below increased with the amount of ale and wine served. She was still there, in the gloaming, when Rachel came to her at last, sinking wearily on the bed.

"What on earth were you doing spying on him?" Rachel demanded.

"I just wanted to see if it was truly him! Do you think he saw

me?"

Rachel sighed heavily. "Yes. He was still staring up here when I went back to him. I asked him if he was well, and he said he'd just seen a ghost. Then he asked me if we had a girl named Isabel de Burke staying here. I said no. And then he asked if we knew of anyone named de Burke. Or Lonsby. He saw you, Isabel."

Isabel covered her mouth.

"What were you thinking?" Rachel asked.

"I was not thinking. I just wanted to see him. Did he say anything else?"

"No."

"Is the whole court here?"

"No, only a few."

"Is Langton here?"

"I've not heard of him, but I will ask. Isabel, my parents say you should stay hidden while they're here."

"And what of the hearings?"

"The king is collecting all the petitions but saying nothing. Some of the men said they would not be here long, but others said even if the king leaves, his soldiers will remain here."

"If King Edward takes over Scotland, what will you do?"

Rachel shook her head and looked into the distance. "I don't know. If we have to leave, it will kill my father. He is so proud of what he's built here. I don't think he has the heart to do it again. Perhaps Sarah is right, to marry a Gentile and never have to worry about being forced out of your home."

"That would kill him, Rachel. He's so unhappy about Sarah and Edgar."

"I know. He calms himself by saying if she's a Jew, her children will be Jews."

"Not if they do not practice your religion. They'll be what they're taught."

"No. They'll be what their blood is."

"Do you want me to leave, Rachel? Ask your parents. I do not want to bring attention to them."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know. But ask them, Rachel. Maybe I should go to Newcastle."

"No. You're not leaving. We'll hide you."

"And if I'm found?"

"You've done nothing wrong, Isabel. You keep forgetting that."

"But I have, Rachel. I questioned a king. And one cannot do that."

Isabel crept downstairs once the terrace was empty and the tavern room quiet. No knights or courtiers remained, and she breathed a sigh of relief and joined their efforts to get everything prepared for the next day, which was Friday. Shabbat would begin at dusk, when the third star was visible, and Rachel's family would do no work until the following evening.