SirenSong (16 page)

“But you have no objection to Aubery, do you?” Mauger asked.

“You know I have not. Aubery is a good boy and will make a
fine man, I think. If Alys will agree to have him, nothing could gladden my
heart more. But it is Alys who must live her life with Aubery, not I.”

“Would you object if I talked to Alys alone? I have some
messages for her from Aubery.” Mauger hesitated, then said, “I am a fool!
Aubery sent word that he wished to come home but could not. I should have known
then that trouble was stirring in Wales and de Bohun did not wish to give him
leave. He entrusted me with some words for Alys. I wondered why, but if he
believes there will be a war… Yes. Aubery has always taken it as final that he
is betrothed to Alys, you know.”

“No, I did not know,” William said.

It would be horrible beyond belief to inflict on Aubery what
he himself had suffered all these years. Now William tried to think of any sign
at all that Aubery had felt about Alys as he felt about Elizabeth when they were
children. He was almost ready to swear it was not so, but not absolutely ready.
Part of his unsureness, he knew, was owing to the fact that he could not really
concentrate. Elizabeth was in the keep. Elizabeth… Suddenly it came to
William’s mind that if Mauger took Alys away to talk privately about Aubery, he
and Elizabeth would also be alone.

“I may talk to Alys? Would you permit her to ride out with
me? It is very hard to transmit tender messages with servants coming and going
or a father listening and—”

“Yes, certainly,” William said, his mouth going dry with
desire. “If Alys is willing, I have no objections.”

Mauger’s plan was excellent, and it might have worked had he
been even slightly acquainted with his wife’s character and thus kept her apart
from Alys. The girl was not yet in love with Raymond, but his suppressed
emotion had communicated itself to her and something in her was coming awake in
response. A clear declaration of passion from almost any desirable young man
might have toppled her. Mauger’s secondhand relations of Aubery’s love would
not have been as effective, but Alys might have been sufficiently moved by the
false words to agree to a formal betrothal.

Elizabeth, who had seen what was happening to Alys, was
equally determined that Alys and Aubery not be precipitated into something they
would both regret. She was not certain of exactly what moves Mauger would make,
but she knew William would never force Alys into a betrothal. Therefore, her
path was clear, she had to make sure Alys would continue to resist. She smiled
at the polite, pleased, but puzzled thanks Alys gave for the length of cloth.

“It will suit you better than me, love,” Elizabeth said,
laughing, “but you know it was never bought for me. It was meant for Aubery.
Mauger wanted an excuse to come here, and this was it.”

“Oh,” Alys said, and laughed also. “Would you like me to
make a gown for Aubery from it?”

“No!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Alys, do you have any love for
Aubery?”

“Of course,” Alys replied, shocked. “How could I not? I have
known him forever.”

“That is not what I mean at all,” Elizabeth said. “Do you
want to marry him?”

Alys looked uncertain and rather embarrassed. A dark, thin
face with bright, intense eyes flickered through her mind. But how could she
say to Aubery’s mother that her son was not desirable?

“You have misunderstood me,” Elizabeth continued hastily,
reading Alys’s expression correctly. “I do not wish to urge you to marry my
son. To tell you the truth, I do not think you would suit each other at all.”

“Well,” Alys temporized, “I do love Aubery, but…but I have
known him so long that he is like a brother. I…I am not certain. If Papa wants
me to marry him…”

“Your father only wants you to be happy,” Elizabeth said
very firmly. “Believe me, Alys, there is no hell like an unhappy marriage. I
know! Do not allow anyone, even your father, to convince you that you feel what
you do not feel. I think my husband has come here to press for a betrothal. Do
not agree unless you are very sure that you wish to spend your life with
Aubery.”

“I am not sure of that,” Alys replied promptly. “How can I
be sure? And what about Aubery?”

“Aubery?” Elizabeth smiled again. “It is true Aubery is a
few months older than you, but in many ways he is much younger. I assure you
Aubery does not wish to marry anyone…not yet.” She hesitated, and a thoughtful
expression came into her eyes. “Alys,” she said slowly, “do not believe what
Mauger may say about Aubery’s feelings. I…I do not like to criticize my
husband, but…but he is not overcareful to speak the truth when he thinks a lie
will serve his purpose better.”

“Are you saying that Aubery does not love me?” Alys asked.

There was a hint of pique in her voice. Elizabeth thought
swiftly. Was she doing her son harm? Was she depriving him of a rich marriage
with a beautiful, intelligent woman? She thought of the last time they had been
together. No. Aubery already seemed to lean toward gentle girls who desired
protection. Alys infuriated him, although he was very fond of her.

“If you want the truth, he does not,” Elizabeth answered.
“Oh, like a sister, to quarrel with, as you love him, yes. But he is young, and
you know your father has filled his head with the need to be dutiful. Mauger
could doubtless convince him it was his duty to mouth words of love, but… Alys,
you will know love when it comes to you. You are fortunate in having a father
who cares more for you than for wealth or pride. Do not permit yourself to be
rushed into any avowal. There is plenty of time to take Aubery if you want him,
but once you are betrothed it will be too late to change your mind.”

Alys nodded. That was an argument her father would accept
without being hurt, but she felt dissatisfied. “Why do you suddenly speak to me
of this, Elizabeth?”

“Because Mauger has been speaking of it to me and says he
wants it settled in writing. He even sent to ask Aubery to come home, but he
did not come.”

“He did not? Did he send a message?”

Elizabeth’s face softened. She did not realize that what she
said implied Aubery knew his father’s reason for asking him to come home. Her
mind was on the fact that de Bohun’s messenger had sought her out after he had
delivered his master’s letter to Mauger. He told her softly that Aubery sent
his love and wanted to assure her that he was well and very happy. Also her son
wished to know if all was well with her. If his father’s message was on her
account, the messenger said, Aubery would beg his lord to allow him to come
home—which he had not done—and he was sure the indulgence would be granted.

“Only his love to me,” Elizabeth said softly.

“Then it is certainly true he is not dying for love of me,”
Alys snapped.

The tart tone made Elizabeth realize the mistaken impression
she had given Alys. “No, he is not,” she agreed, laughing, “but he did not
refuse to come. The Earl of Hereford would not give him leave.”

“Oh.” Alys’s face cleared and she laughed also. Then she
sobered. “I did not think. Of course de Bohun could not let his squire go now.
He will be needed in this Welsh war.”

“Welsh war?” Elizabeth repeated, growing pale.

“Did you not know?” Alys cried softly. “I am so sorry. I
should not have told you, but I thought… Papa goes too.”

“Your father also?” Elizabeth’s voice shook and her eyes
were enormous.

“No harm will come to Aubery,” Alys comforted, although her
voice was not very steady either, “and you will not need to worry about him
because Papa will write to me often, you know he does so, and he will look to
Aubery and send news of him.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth faltered, “yes, of course. Alys, you will
send me word if you cannot come yourself of how…how your father does, even if
he does not mention Aubery. I…I can judge from that, you know, what action is
taking place.”

A flicker of reluctance touched Alys, who guessed that
Elizabeth’s uneven breath and pallor owed only a little to fear for her son.
She was almost inclined to temporize so that she could keep knowledge of her
father jealously to herself, but a maidservant came in to ask that she and
Elizabeth come down to the hall.

Chapter Eight

When they entered the hall, Elizabeth sheltered behind Alys
and the maid so that her pallor and trembling were not perceived. She heard her
husband’s voice and tried desperately to understand so that she could answer
sensibly, but no one seemed to expect any answer from her. She was so shaken by
terror that she could not attempt to understand it. It was nothing new for
William to ride to war in Richard of Cornwall’s tail, and although she had
always feared for him, it had been nothing like this.

The exchange of voices in which, surprisingly, Alys had
taken a major part ended. Alys and Mauger were going off somewhere together.
That seemed peculiar, but Elizabeth had no fear that Mauger would insult Alys
and she only felt relief. She would be able to rest for a few minutes and
absorb the shock so that she could face Mauger when he returned. She had taken
a single faltering step toward a chair when she was seized in a strong hold.

“Elizabeth!” William’s voice held fear. “What ails you?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, “a slight faintness. Let me sit
down a moment.”

“You are so cold,” he said. “You are shaking.”

His touch made it worse. Such a violent mixture of fear and
desire roiled in Elizabeth that the room dimmed and her knees buckled. She was
aware of being lifted and carried and clung instinctively. Then, as she was set
down on a bed, the world steadied and cleared. She felt William reach up to
unlock her arms from around his neck so that he could cover her, but she
whispered, “No, do not let me go. I am afraid.”

He sat down on the bed beside her. “Of what? In my house,
what could you fear, Elizabeth?”

The supine position had restored her. Fear still ate her,
but the physical effects of it were gone. Her hands had slipped down from
William’s neck, but she still held tightly to his arms.

“I am better already,” she assured him. “You have done all
that was necessary in letting me lie down. Let me rest a moment.”

“But what overset you?” William asked anxiously, and then a
horrible notion came into his mind. Elizabeth had been with Alys. “Did Alys say
something unkind to you?” he snarled.

“Alys? Have you told Alys what…what…?”

“I have told Alys nothing, but one does not need to tell
Alys things. She is very clever. Elizabeth, if that pert devil said something
to hurt you after all the kindness you have shown her, I will lift her hide
with my belt.”

“No!” Elizabeth drew a deep breath. Color came back into her
face. “I had no idea she knew about…about us.”

“Knew is too strong a word, perhaps, but a guess so
certain…” She still held him, and heat coursed up his arms from where her hands
lay, running over his body. Desperate to say something, anything, he went on,
“But something happened, something was said to distress you.”

“Alys told me you were going to war in Wales.”

She had her eyes fixed on his slightly averted face and all
of a sudden the dear, familiar features were startlingly clear, as if she were
seeing him for the first time. He was not handsome in terms of a hero of
romance, like Mauger. In particular those ridiculous, long, curling lashes that
now hid his eyes made her want to laugh at the same time that she could barely
prevent herself from pulling him down and kissing them. The thought of kissing
brought Elizabeth’s eyes to William’s mouth and she began to tremble. He looked
back at her when he felt her shaking, his own eyes dark with passion. He did
not dare make any direct advance. He had asked her that time at Hurley and she
had refused. But he could see the desire as plain in her face as he knew it
must be in his own.

“Yes, I go to Wales.” His voice was thick.

“When?”

“A few weeks. I must train some more men. I cannot leave
Alys defenseless.”

They were staring at each other, only partly aware of what
was being said. Elizabeth’s hands slid down from William’s arms and lay above
his hands, not clutching but stroking them gently. He did not move, but his
breathing grew uneven and finally he closed his eyes altogether. The long
lashes had an unusually bright sheen. Tears? It was more than Elizabeth could
bear. She drew his head down and their mouths came together.

Almost at once, William pulled free. “I cannot bear it,” he
said. “I cannot give you up and I cannot have you. I am a man, not a mouthing
ape who sighs for a glance from his lady’s eyes or a glove from her hand. I am
a man! I want you! I wish I were dead!”

“William!” Elizabeth cried as he stood up.

He turned away. “Thank God I am going to Wales. Thank God
for it. Perhaps—”

“William!”

He was only going to say that perhaps he would be able to
sleep a night through when he was a hundred miles from her, but Elizabeth had
put together the wish for death with the Welsh enterprise. William might try to
get himself killed in battle. It was a notion that would never have entered his
mind, not because his cry of misery was false but because he would betray his
men and Richard and his duty to his daughter if he deliberately permitted
himself to be killed. It would never occur to William to ease his own pain at
the cost of his duty. But Elizabeth, who was not thinking clearly at the moment,
did not realize that.

The sense of doom, of looming disaster, which had gripped
her when Alys first spoke of the Welsh war, returned. She felt driven to act,
to do something to avert the disaster. There was no sense in begging William
not to go. Both his duty and the fervor with which he had spoken of leaving
proved to Elizabeth that any plea in that direction would be useless. All she
could think was that she had to give him a reason, provide him with a hope that
would bring him back. She followed the few steps he had moved away and gripped
his arm.