Stuart, Elizabeth (29 page)

Aymer
stared at him incredulously. "You mean we're just going to turn our backs
and ride out?"

Robert
shook his head. "No. I'm riding south as my king has commanded. You,
Aymer, are staying here, you and a dozen men we'll handpick. You'll remain here
and keep watch, send me word if there's any change, if you chance to see
Jocelyn. You'll do nothing to engage Montagne in any case. A fight would be too
dangerous for so small a force."

Aymer
nodded.

Robert
turned, stared bleakly across the moat one last time. "My treacherous
brother-by-marriage did speak the truth in one thing. Henry will be overjoyed
to find he has been in England scarcely a week and has already deprived me of
my home. Again."

***

The
man crossed Belavoir's torchlit hall, moving quickly up the steps to the high
table. "My lord, the wench Alys sent me to tell you your lady sister is
waking up. What would you have her do?"

Brian
Montagne didn't even look up from his supper. It had been a satisfying day and
he felt better than he had in a long time. By a rare stroke of good luck plus
some fast thinking and hard fighting, he had managed to capture one of the most
important fortresses in the west. It was a pity he hadn't finished de Langley.
Still, his new liege lord would surely be pleased with him.

But
he wasn't ready to deal with Jocelyn yet. It could be a ticklish situation, and
he'd have to think how best to handle it.

"Give
her more of that wine mixed with poppy." He chewed for a moment, glanced
up and added sharply, "Just a few sips at a time whenever she starts to
wake. Enough to make her sleep. Not too much, mind. I don't want her
dead."

The
man nodded and turned away, and Brian returned to his dinner, his thoughts on
the respect he would soon command, the vast tracts of land he would one day
control. Some day he might be mentioned in the same breath with men like
Cornwall and Gloucester, maybe Leicester or even Ranulf of Chester.

He
smiled a little at his grand dreams, dreams he was determined to make reality.
By one method or another, his father had more than doubled the size of the original
Montagne holdings. Brian planned to double them again.

No,
he didn't want Jocelyn dead. He wanted her alive and well and quiet. For now
anyway.

She
had been sick, sick unto death. She must have been.

Jocelyn
lay perfectly still, trying to capture and organize the speeding, whirling
images into thoughts, to endure this terrible pounding that was about to take
off the top of her head.

She
hadn't opened her eyes. She wasn't quite certain she could yet and besides, she
was afraid. Afraid the room would start to spin and that horrible, wrenching
nausea would return. That it might truly kill her this time.

Memories
spun and tumbled with dreams, and she was regaining enough comprehension to
realize she had no idea what was real and what was not. Wonderful, euphoric
images of Robert and her mother clashed with dark, unsettling ones of Brian.
Brian and that insolent tanner's daughter, Alys. Nothing seemed to fit.

"Is
she awake yet?"

Brian's
voice. And this was no dream.

"Not
yet, m'lord."

"By
the Mass, girl, if you've given her more of that drugged wine, you'll be sorry!
I told you to stop it yesterday."

"She's
had none since your order. Slept easy last night... took a few sips of water.
No retching today, m'lord."

Jocelyn
held herself very still.
Alys's voice! Brian and Alys? It didn't make sense.

"Well..."
Her brother sounded oddly uncertain. "Let her sleep the rest of the
morning. I'll be back by afternoon. Weil try to wake her then." He
hesitated, added almost angrily, "This is the third day now she's had
nothing to eat. Jesus, she'll die of starvation if we don't get something to
stay down!"

Three
days? Three days she'd been like this? Dear God, where was Robert? And where
was she?

"Aye,
m'lord," the girl returned sulkily.

Jocelyn
heard footsteps cross the floor, then the sound of the door closing. She needed
to think, to remember what had happened. But it was difficult when her head
hurt so much.

She
remembered all the way back before Christmas. She could see that clearly
enough. Then the time before Robert had ridden to Leaworth. And then... and
then...

That
woman at Leaworth! She could certainly remember that. All the pain, the
betrayal. But there was something else, something she couldn't quite grasp.

Henry!
Henry of Anjou was in England! Robert had probably already gone to war.

But
why had he left her with Brian?

She
lifted her eyelids, staring out through thin slits beneath her lashes. This was
her bedchamber at Belavoir, but what was Brian doing here? And why was that sly
wench Alys sitting with her?

Jocelyn
closed her eyes, fighting the pain, ignoring her dry mouth and the thirst that
was becoming unbearable. She didn't want them to know she was awake. Not until
she could think clearly, recall all that had occurred.

She
remembered leaving Leaworth and riding for Belavoir. Brian had been here. Yes,
that was it! Brian and his men had been waiting. He'd come to ride with her
husband against Henry, had been in a rage because Sir Edmund wouldn't open the
gates.

They
had ridden in together, she and Brian, her escort and her brother's men. She
had ordered a hasty supper prepared, then excused herself upstairs. She was
exhausted from that long ride in the cold and the extremes of emotion she had
dealt with all day.

But
surprisingly, Brian had followed. He had talked endlessly of the men he feared
were going over to Henry, of the dangers of a winter campaign, of things he
would never have spoken of with her before. Then he had poured them both wine.

Jocelyn
drew in a slow, shuddering breath. He had
drugged her! He must have managed to
take Belavoir as well. And that had been three days ago. "Lady, be you
awake?"

Jocelyn
opened her eyes. Alys sat near the bed, watching with dark, speculative eyes.
Why Alys? Why a woman the whole keep knew she didn't like?

Because
she was the only one Brian could trust not to aid her.

Jocelyn
opened her mouth, managed to force one word. "Water."

Alys
rose and poured a brimming cup, holding it so that Jocelyn could take a sip.
But after only two swallows, Alys drew it away. "Not too much. You'd best
wait a bit."

"But..."
Jocelyn's mouth was still so dry it was difficult to speak. "I
thirst."

"You'd
best wait a bit. It's not good t'be drinkin' so much as t'make yourself
sick."

Jocelyn
knew that. She had told it to countless patients herself. Still it was bitter
to watch as Alys turned the cup up and drained it, as she wiped her wet mouth
with the back of one hand.

"Don't
fret now. I'll be gettin' you more later. My lady." Alys smiled thinly,
managed to make the words insulting.

Jocelyn
stared back. It was difficult to think, too draining even to hate. She closed
her eyes, turning inward in the way she had learned as a child, fashioning for
herself the magnificent image of a tall, tawny-haired man in a sunlit scarlet
surcoat. A man with beautiful golden eyes and two rearing lions upon one
shoulder.

Then
the man and the lions seemed to merge, and Jocelyn smiled, let herself drift
and swirl and become one with the images. And she was no longer afraid.

***

Brian
returned that afternoon, but by then Jocelyn had slept several hours and had
even consumed some broth Alys had grudgingly sent for. She was better prepared
to face him, had even washed her face and made Alys brush out her hair.

"Well,
sister, you've given us quite a scare," Brian
remarked as he
crossed the room. "You've slept so much I feared you might never
wake."

"I'm
sorry I frightened you, Brian. But then I've never been drugged before,"
she said bitingly. "If I'd known, I'd have warned you that only a little
might prove too much."

"You're
too outspoken, Jocelyn. You'd be better served to mind your tongue and listen
to what I have to say. You may not like it, but you'll be much better off for
what I've done."

Jocelyn
held her voice steady with an effort. "And what have you done?"

"We've
declared for Henry, Father and I, along with Pelham and his father, the earls
of Chester, Hereford, Salisbury, and Cornwall, a host of other barons and their
vassals by now. They rode south to meet Henry at Devizes by a secret agreement
days ago, but I stayed back here to spy out what de Langley was doing, to
discover the number of men he could put on the field."

He
grinned, obviously gloating. "But then I did manage a bit more than We'd
planned. With your husband and his men away, it wasn't too difficult to take
the castle, once you'd so obligingly given us the run of the place."

Jocelyn
put as much contempt as she could into her voice. "You asked for food and
lodging for yourself and your men. I was so foolish as to overrule Sir Edmund
and let you have it. I'll never forgive myself for that."

"Nor
will Sir Edmund. He and his men are cooling their heels in the dungeon at
present." Brian grinned. "Nor will your husband either, madam. I did
tell him when he arrived that you handed the castle over to me in a jealous
rage."

Jocelyn
felt all the blood drain from her face. "You didn't! Brian, tell me you
did not!"

"Don't
distress yourself. You'll soon see all has happened for the best. I've heard
the story of how you found his mistress. Believe me, I did throw that in his
face on your behalf. By the way, it makes a wonderful story to pass on to the
Angevins. First Adelise runs away taking a considerable fortune with her, then
you hand Belavoir over to his enemies." He chuckled. "The man should
never have tangled with the Montagnes. The great Lion of Normandy can't even
manage the women of our family!"

Jocelyn
thought of her husband's bitterness as he had told her of Marguerite and of
that memorable scene she had made at Leaworth.

Sweet
Mother of God, what had she done? What would he think?

"This
is no laughing matter, Brian! Robert might actually believe you. Think of the
damage you may have done."

"It
doesn't matter," he returned with a casualness that was truly chilling.
"You were forced into this marriage. You'll be much better, much safer,
out of it. We all will. A blood bond with de Langley might prove disastrous in
times to come."

"What
are you saying?"

"The
young duke of Normandy does hate your husband, madam. Do you think when he's
king he'll leave any stone unturned to find de Langley and destroy him, if your
lord does even survive the fighting, that is. No, I've done you a favor. I've
brought you, willing or not, onto the winning side."

Jocelyn
lay back against the pillow. She was too weak to rage at her brother. Besides
it wouldn't do any good.

Brian
studied her thoughtfully. "Good, you're ready to listen. I'll give you
another matter to think on then. Your husband leaves no heirs, Jocelyn. Unless
you're breeding yet, you inherit all when he dies. You'll need someone to
manage things for you, to protect you from men who would seize you for your
inheritance."

"And,
of course, you'll be my protector," she said dryly.

"Of
course." He smiled. "You may have your dower lands. You'll be a woman
of substance with those alone. You did always wish to live quietly at Warford,
and I can arrange for you to do just that."

Jocelyn
held his eyes. But for how long? If she died childless, Brian would inherit
those lands as well. "And what if Henry doesn't win, if Stephen is
victorious?" she asked. "Have you thought about that?"

"Stephen
is strong still, yes. He does hold most of England. But Henry will win. I've
met the man, Jocelyn, and I tell you, sooner or later, he'll win."

"You
don't know that," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage.

Brian
shrugged. "Very well. A calculated risk. One Father and I are willing to
take, one a growing number of others seem willing to take as well. Besides,
even if Stephen wins, he has never been known to wreak vengeance on his
enemies, has always been ready and eager to take the strayed lambs back into
the fold."

So
much, too, had Robert always said. It was Stephen's main failing, he was too
good-hearted to be a king. "But my husband is not so forgiving,"
Jocelyn returned. "What do you think he'll do to you for this?"

"I
doubt I'll have to worry about that. If you're not already a widow, you soon
will be, madam. Your husband is one for lost causes. I doubt he'll survive the
fighting in the south."

The
words made Jocelyn's blood run cold. But her brother was still speaking, and
she forced herself to listen. "You need to rest here and regain your
strength. There's really nothing else you can do. My force is small, but I've
plenty of men to hold Belavoir and keep you closely guarded."

He
hesitated, smiled. "I can be generous if you cooperate. It's what I would
prefer. Adelise is fond of you, and I'd hate to distress her. However there's
far too much at stake here for sentiment to play any part. If you cause me
trouble, I can make your life hell." He held her eyes. "I can and I
will, Jocelyn."

"I've
no doubt of it, Brian," she said. "You've always been good at
that."

A
commotion sounded at the outer door. Brian turned his head, listening.

"But
I was told to bring the lady food," a shrill voice whined. "There's
soup here, some bread and weak ale. Maude the herb woman said it was needful.
That the lady would need it for strength."

Adam!
Jocelyn
sat forward at once. "I do feel I could eat, Brian. If Maude sent
something, it's bound to do me good."

Brian
nodded and called to a guard who opened the door to escort the boy in. Jocelyn
eyed the guard and her heart began to pump wildly. The man was tall and
broad-shouldered and just beneath his ear, an ugly, puckering scar disfigured
the flesh.

She
swallowed hard, looked swiftly away. This was the man, the man who had tried to
kill Robert that night in the bailey. And he was wearing her brother's livery!

"Maude
said to commend the soup, lady," Adam was muttering in a surly, uneducated
voice. He placed the tray on the bed beside her. "Said it'd do you
good."

Jocelyn
fought to pull her scattered wits together. She glanced up at Adam, was
surprised to find he had dirtied his hair and was wearing a threadbare tunic.
He was obviously masquerading as a kitchen lackey.

"Thank
her for me," she managed. "Tell her I'll eat what I can."

Brian
jerked his head toward the door. "Out, boy."

Adam
directed his eyes significantly toward the soup. Then he bowed toward Brian and
was gone.

Jocelyn
stared at her brother. Her head was still reeling. So Brian had been behind
that ambush attempt. And now he'd done this.

She
swallowed hard, forced a smile for his benefit. "I would eat now and rest,
Brian. Perhaps there's something in what you say, but I'm too exhausted even to
think on it. Give me time. Let me think on all you've said."