Stuart, Elizabeth (35 page)

Jocelyn
twisted around and touched his face. "Robert, do you really not understand
I would count it nothing if half the rebel army used me if only it won your
life?"

"No,
Jocelyn,
no!
I
couldn't stand to think he had touched you, been with you like this. Not him.
Not
Henry!"

The
words rang with such bitterness, Jocelyn wrapped her arms about him and held
him close.

You
are of finer stuff than that other—that Marguerite.

And
suddenly she knew without asking, cursed herself for a fool for never having
guessed it before. "Henry slept with her, didn't he? With
Marguerite."

There
was a long, pained silence. "Yes," Robert admitted. "Yes, he
did. And she set it up, my dear wife. Set it up so carefully that I walked in
on them in the final throes of their lust."

Jocelyn
closed her eyes. What a bitter blow for any man, but especially a man like
this.

"It
was at Mantes," Robert muttered. "The abbot of Clairvaux had arranged
a truce in hopes of ending the fighting. The Angevins—Geoffrey of Anjou, Henry
and some others—myself and my allies were to talk peace with
the help of the
Church. Henry was just sixteen but large and strong and forward even then,
already a lord in his own right, already ruling his lands himself."

Robert
hesitated. "I shouldn't have taken Marguerite, but she begged to go, was
no doubt plotting even then. We had already come to hate each other, but even
with that she could still make me want her as I had wanted no woman before.

"I
don't know how to explain it to you, Jocelyn. I don't even understand it
myself. My relationship with Marguerite was sick, twisted, so much so that it
sickens me even to think on it now. It was nothing like what you and I have
together. You make me feel... I don't know... whole, right with myself and with
you. Marguerite had a way of making a man feel less, making everything she
touched into filth."

He
lay silent so long Jocelyn thought he was done. And she needed to know what had
happened with Henry, knew it might hold the key to his life. "What
happened after you found them? What did you do?"

He
laughed bitterly. "What would you expect? I dragged Henry naked from my
bed and began beating the life from his body. Geoffrey was with me. He dragged
me off the boy and screamed that I couldn't commit murder, that I couldn't slay
an unarmed sixteen-year-old who had come to Mantes under a truce of God."

Jocelyn
thought of the meeting she had witnessed between Geoffrey and the duke just a
short while ago, of the odd way they had stared at each other, then looked
away. Geoffrey had known. He had known Robert's danger all along.

"But
that wasn't what stopped me. At that moment I'd no reverence even for God. It
was Marguerite. She sat there naked in our bed, the whole room a shambles and
the three of us screaming and pummeling each other about on the floor. And she
was laughing, the bitch was laughing as if she watched a farce! And I knew then
that she had planned the whole thing, planned it to ruin me."

Robert
sucked in his breath, as if even the speaking of it ripped open a wound.
"So I let Henry scramble into his clothing and run. Marguerite was still
laughing, excited if
you can believe it, by the havoc she'd wrought. She informed me that Henry was
one of many, that I was so poor an excuse for a husband, she needed a legion of
lovers to make it up.

"She
threw out names, dozens of names, but I scarcely listened. Most of the men she
named were trusted friends. I told her I was done with her, that she could
couple with the devil every midnight, and I wouldn't care. And then I rode out,
thankful I already had a son, that I wouldn't have to touch her again."

Jocelyn
lay with her eyes tight shut, her arms around him. His words made her insides
twist and churn. "So you and Henry became worse enemies than before,"

"Yes.
The Angevins hunted me then with a vengeance, and I fought back with all the
hatred and cunning I could drag up from my bitter soul. I expected Henry to
boast of what he'd done, but there was never a whisper. It reflected on him so
badly, he didn't want it known, I suppose."

Jocelyn
held him, stroked him, and Robert clung like a boy needing solace. "There
is more," he muttered. "If you claim you love me, you'd best hear the
whole sick end to it all.

"Marguerite
had learned she couldn't get my attention any other way, so she set about
trying to surrender Geis Castle to the Angevins. I learned of it and raced to
end the plot. There was nothing to do but cage her there and set a watch. She
was furious, couldn't believe she had lost all her power to sway me.

"There
is no excuse for what I did then," he added slowly, "but I did pay
for it, madam. Christ, I did pay for my sins! Hating her as I did, knowing how
she hated me, I let her seduce me. I used her—we used each other—over and over
and over until even we were sick of it. And then I rode out, left her screaming
that I would be back. That I would always come back."

He
drew in his breath. "And I did, nearly four months later. My steward wrote
that Marguerite was dying. I didn't believe it, thought it only more of her
plotting. But I went, found her very near death from a fever, from some putrid,
rotting sickness inside her."

Jocelyn
cringed, tasted blood and realized that she had torn her own lip with her
teeth. She knew what was coming, sensed the terrible thing he was about to say.

"Marguerite
had conceived a child. An innocent child.
My child
from that day of
sickness and lust. She had tried to rid herself of it in the usual way, as she
told me then she'd rid herself of others. Only this time the draught hadn't
worked. She was forced to try other, cruder methods. My child—children—died
because of my lust, because I was too stupidly naive to realize the kind of
creature I was tied to."

He
hesitated. His breathing was rapid. Jocelyn could feel his heart racing,
thundering violently against hers. "Marguerite was cunning even at the
last, though not cunning enough as she found. She pretended to a fit of
terrible remorse, told me that Adam wasn't my son, that he was the get of some
stable groom, the result of a few minutes lust in a hayrick. She would make all
right, confess all here at the last so no serf's child would be my heir."

He
paused again, shuddered as if remembering, as if hearing it all again. "I
almost think she wanted me to kill her and have that sin to burden my soul, but
I held my rage and outplotted her. I pretended anguish, told her I was going
for her priest and my steward to stand as witnesses. Instead I sent everyone
from that floor of the keep and put trusted men to guard the stairways.

"Then
I returned and sat with her in that stinking room. I listened to her raging and
cursing and screaming insults at me for days while she died. The priest, her
women, even my own men thought me insane, but I let no one near for fear she
might ruin my son. I did let her priest in at the last. She was unconscious by
then, couldn't spew out her poisons. Not into earthly ears at least."

He
drew a long shuddering breath but Jocelyn sensed he wasn't finished. "And
then I went and found the hag who had helped her destroy my children," he
added softly. "An old woman of Geis who had long practiced witchcraft. I'd
never paid her any mind, but I killed her then, Jocelyn, killed her without a
qualm. My own priest knows of it. Now you. I've confessed and done penance, but
I don't regret it, madam. I've tried, but cannot!"

Jocelyn
was shivering. She tried to say something and
couldn't, realized the tears were
running down her face, slipping warm and salty into her mouth.

"You've
no idea how it is to look at a child you love more than your own salvation and
wonder if he is yours," Robert said raggedly. "To watch him die and
then sob and cry out in the night and to wonder still if it is some other man's
flesh you mourn. I know she was lying, I know it! But all the same, I will
never know for sure. And that bitch is in hell somewhere, laughing, laughing
even now. I might have kept her from hurting Adam, but she did most assuredly
come close to destroying me!"

Jocelyn
fought to steady herself, to speak through the tears that choked her.
"Does it really matter, my darling, whose flesh Adam was? Would you have
loved him any less had you known for sure he was sprung from some other? I
think not. I
know
not! You loved the boy, and he you, and that is what
matters. All the flesh and bone and blood in God's kingdom cannot bind one
person to another if there isn't love to hold them first.

"Look
at Marguerite! She was obviously the child's blood mother. Yet you were the one
who loved and cherished and protected the boy. You were the one who gave him
four, almost five years of happiness and love.

"That
is what makes the tie, Robert. Love is what binds one person to another despite
all the hellish plots the devils both here and below can dream up! It doesn't
matter whose seed Adam was. You were his father, you and none other. Love him
and mourn him for he deserves that. But don't tear yourself apart for the vile
mouthings of some foul and evil bitch!"

She
lay still then, struggling to breathe around the tears that ran unchecked.
Sweet
merciful God, grant this prayer if nothing else all my days. Let Robert have
some time of happiness at least, for he does deserve it.

Robert
was still clinging to her, but his breathing had slowed to a more normal
cadence. "You're right," he said softly. "It doesn't matter
whence Adam came. Only that he was mine to enjoy for a time... that he is safe
now with God."

He
rolled over, drawing her close against the curve of his body as if he would
make her part of him again. "If only I had known you were out there
waiting for me, Jocelyn, I wouldn't have been nearly so desolate," he
whispered.

And
then he smiled. Somehow Jocelyn could tell he was smiling even in the dark,
even through her tears. "I'm so thankful, my love," he said,
"that you waited for me, that you did not die when you were ten."

"Wake
up, sweetheart, someone's coming."

Jocelyn
blinked and opened her eyes, becoming aware of loud voices as someone entered
the tent. It would be the duke, of course. No one else could get through the
guards.

"Stop
whatever it is you are doing," Henry called. "You've company.
Leicester is returned, and we've brought something to break your fast."

Robert
grabbed up the coverlet and jerked it over his wife just as Henry caught back
the silken curtain screening the private area of the tent. The duke's eyes
traveled from Jocelyn's flushed face and tangled hair to Robert's arm curled
possessively around her. "Ah," he said softly. "I see all is
well. You've been testy of late, my lord de Langley. I did almost hate to throw
the lady into the lion's den."

"The
lady knew she had nothing to fear," Robert muttered.

"The
lady does not appear to fear much," Henry returned.

Jocelyn
glanced from one pair of tense and watchful eyes to the other. "The lady
would like to get dressed," she said crossly.

Henry
glanced at her and grinned. "I stand rebuked, madam. Hurry then, for we
are waiting." With a flutter of the curtain he was gone, and Jocelyn could
hear him talking to the earl of Leicester a few steps away.

She
glanced at Robert. He was biting his lip to keep from laughing. He bent swiftly
and kissed her. "I do love you, madam," he whispered. "Whatever
happens, I would have you remember that. You've brought me joy and laughter and
peace—even now. Always remember that."

Jocelyn
traced his mouth with one finger. "And you, my love, have brought me far
more even than that."

He
caught her hand, stared at the ring she was wearing. "I see you found
this. I didn't know if you'd ever want to wear it again, but I bought it back
from that woman, thought it might be good to remind myself of my own folly on
occasion."

"Of
course I'll wear it. To remind me of what we had and what we've passed through.
To remind me that things can become even better after trials." She glanced
sideways at him and smiled. "To remind my lord husband that his wife has a
temper, that she isn't slow to wield a knife."

Robert
tried to hold it back, but the laughter burst from him. It was odd and
wonderful to hear him laugh after what they'd been through last night, with
what they were facing now.

"It
is good to hear you so full of mirth, my lord, but I would remind you that
Leicester and I are waiting," Henry called dryly from just beyond the
curtain.

They
dressed hastily and stepped around the curtain. Both men were sitting, but
Leicester rose to his feet. He was a tall man, graying and deliberate, the calm
center of the storm that so often raged around Henry.

"Robert...
my lady." He nodded gravely. "I'm sorry, madam, that I wasn't here
for you yesterday. I understand there was some trouble with your brother."

Jocelyn
nodded, forcing herself to smile at Henry. "Yes, but the duke came to my
rescue in the most amazing way. Almost as if he'd been expecting me," she
added with only the slightest widening of her eyes.

Henry
met her gaze, amusement lurking round the corners of his mouth. "The
providence of God, madam. He does provide for those who work his will. It's a
lesson we all should remember. Now come and eat. I'm hungry."

A
page had spread the table with a cloth and laid out cheese and good white bread
from the castle, honey, and two pitchers of ale. Jocelyn lifted her brimming
cup and drank. It was good. The duke would demand the best of everything, she
expected.

"My
lord of Leicester returned from Bedford in the
night," Henry was saying.
"Imagine his amazement when my guards wouldn't let him near his own
tent."

Jocelyn
smiled at the earl. "I'm sorry if you were inconvenienced, my lord. Robert
and I had little choice."

Robert
had looked up sharply at the name. "Bedford? What were you doing at
Bedford, Robin?"

Leicester
met his eyes briefly, then turned his attention back to his meal without
comment.

"Bedford
is now under siege," Henry answered, biting at a thickly-buttered slab of
bread. "We've taken Tutbury and Bedford will fall before long. The earl of
Derby did surrender himself finally at Tutbury. He has repudiated Stephen and
sworn himself to me. Now he and his men will take part in the siege. My lord of
Leicester did but go with him there to oversee all and report back to me."

Robert
had paled at the news, but now he glanced contemptuously at Leicester and then
back to Henry. "Do you value them then, these men whose honor is like spit
in the wind?"

Leicester
flushed deeply and kept eating, but Henry held Robert's eyes. "I'm no
fool, de Langley. I value each of those men exactly as each should be valued.
And so I should value you."

"I
won't swear to you, Henry. I won't. Not to
you!"

The
room went still. Jocelyn held her breath and even Leicester stopped eating.
Henry narrowed his eyes and smiled. "You think not? We shall see then,
won't we?"

The
duke glanced shrewdly at Jocelyn. "But come, my lord de Langley. Your lady
is looking alarmed and I'll not have that. Madam, after the difficult day you
had yesterday, you deserve this one for rest and pleasure at least." He
glanced back toward Robert, took a long, considering drink. "Did your lady
tell you her brother is talking about the camp. That he is wanting her burned
alive for a witch?"

Robert
hadn't taken his eyes from Henry's. "Before God, I do swear if you harm my
wife for an old grievance between us, I will see you damned for eternity, will
come back from the dead myself to be sure it is done!"

All
pretense of politeness was abruptly stripped away. "That grievance is dead
and buried!" Henry snapped. "That's what I've been trying to tell
you, you fool. I wronged you and you wronged me, and we've both flailed and
burned and bloodied each other, killed good men for years for something that
wasn't even worth piss! I won, Robert, and I'll win again. I will be king of
England and not even you can stop it. And by God's passion, I'll destroy you
without remorse if you continue to try!"

"I
don't fear you... not even
you!"

"I
know that! I know it! I've had years of learning it!" the duke shouted.

There
wasn't a sound in the room. Henry's face was red and mottled. His eyes blazed
with a strange inner fire. Jocelyn held her breath, gripped her cup, and
prayed.

Henry
sucked in his breath, fought for control of his temper and steadied himself.
"But I would win something here besides a burned-out waste of a kingdom.
That's the fate this land is rapidly running to. You could help me stop it if
you would, de Langley. We could stop the burning and killing before the rest of
the kingdom goes up in a funeral pyre that does stink to heaven!

"Stephen
is an old and ailing man," he added, "and Eustace but a poor excuse
for one. Everyone knows they cannot stop me, even those lords still sworn to
Stephen. If I read you a list of men who have secretly approached me for terms
I swear it would astound you."

"No,"
Robert said softly, sadly. "No, it wouldn't."

"Then
for the love of God, man, join us!" Henry cried, leaning forward. "I
would welcome you with all honor, confirm your lands and give you more.
Leicester is here and Cornwall, Hereford and Salisbury, Gloucester and Derby,
some of the foremost men of the kingdom. You've fought a fierce and honorable
war. All men know it. No one will think the less of you if you swear to me
now!"

"I
will think the less of me," Robert said.

"Oh,
for the love of God!" Henry drew in his breath and leaned back.

"Yes,
Stephen is growing older. He is ailing, perhaps. Is that any reason to betray
my king?" Robert asked. "Does God exempt me from vows sworn on holy
relics simply because they aren't convenient? Someday, if you are lucky, you
too will be old, my lord. Would you then see
your friends and vassals drop away?
Would you understand and wish them well as they go fawning and cringing to lick
the hand of the younger, stronger man who would take your crown?"

The
two men stared at each other as if they were alone. "You agree then, that
I will be king," Henry said, so softly Jocelyn had to strain to hear.

Robert
drew in his breath. "I think it is probably inevitable."

Henry
stared for a moment, then slowly began to smile. "Finish your breakfast,
my lord de Langley. I'm riding out shortly and would have you accompany
me."

Robert
held the duke's eyes. "And if I won't?"

"Then
I'll take your lady wife in your stead. I've no doubt she would make a far more
agreeable companion."

"My
wife stays here," Robert snapped. "I'll go."

Henry
glanced at Jocelyn, still smiling. "Don't look so strained, madam, I will
bring him back alive. Your lord may well seem to run after martyrdom, but I
don't plan to oblige him. He's had that once, and I found him just as troubling
to me dead as alive."

He
pushed back from the table and stood. "I'm done now. We will ride."

Robert
rose as well, holding onto his ale cup and a slab of thick bread. "I've no
horse, you know. That cur Chester cut open the finest stallion I ever
bestrode."

"Yes,
the big gray." Henry was moving toward the entrance and Robert followed
reluctantly. "As you may recall that animal was mine," Henry was
saying. "I've spoken to my lord of Chester concerning his mistake in
destroying my property. He is going to pay me back, will have the mounting of
you now from his own stable."

Robert
chewed his bread, added dryly, "So that's the punishment you intend, to
make me ride one of Chester's mounts. God help me then, for the man is so cow
handed there'll be no suffering his horse."

The
duke burst into laughter and Robert glanced back toward the table. "Robin,
for the love you once bore my father, stay by my wife."

"Of
course."

Jocelyn
met her husband's eyes, forced a smile with a major effort. "Don't worry,
Robert. I'll be fine."

Henry
was taking in the tableau from his place in the entrance. "Of course
she'll be safe. So long as the lady enjoys my protection, not even her brother
would be fool enough to touch her."

Robert
glanced up sharply. There had been just the right inflection to make it obvious
what the duke had intended. The two men eyed each other, one grim-faced, one
smiling. And then they turned and disappeared together from the tent.

Jocelyn
put a hand across her eyes, drew in a long, shuddering breath. She didn't know
how much more of this she could stand.

Leicester
reached across the table and quietly refilled her cup. "He's not in any
real danger, you know, madam. At least not at the moment. I assure you the duke
wants Robert alive."

"But
he won't bend," Jocelyn murmured despairingly. "Robert will never
bend, and your Henry isn't a patient man. He won't let things run like this
forever. The duke must bend Robert or break him. That is his way." She
picked up her cup and drank, for the aching in her throat was becoming
unbearable.

Leicester
stared at her consideringly and then sipped his ale. "I don't know what
was between them, madam. I don't want to know. But I'll tell you something,
something between the two of us, I hope. It's difficult to know this young man,
this Henry Plantagenet, but I've learned him as well or better than most. I
didn't come to him for gain, but because I saw in him the only way to stop the
killing. Because Henry knows I seek nothing from him, he does value me, trust
me, at least as much as he does any man."

He
hesitated, stared at her, then sipped his ale again. "If you'll forgive a
crude comparison, lady, I'll tell you this for your comfort. Henry is much like
a man who is hot for a woman who denies him. He woos her with heat and urgency
and finally wins her. But once he has what he most desired, he does wonder why
he set her value so high. Henry has wooed and won many of Stephen's vassals,
many of the high men of the land. But secretly I believe he mistrusts and
despises them, even myself a little, perhaps."

"And
you can love such a man?" Jocelyn demanded.

"Love
doesn't enter into it," Leicester said calmly. "I loved Stephen, but
Stephen was soft. He couldn't hold such wolves as Chester and Peverel and Hugh
Bigod and the rest of them, couldn't keep them from destroying the land. Henry
hasn't a soft bone in his body, and he will make justice. And that is what this
land needs."

"But
what of Robert?" Jocelyn asked. "He won't forswear himself. Not even
for me, as Henry obviously believes."

"Don't
fret, madam. Your husband is playing the game in the best possible way it could
be played. The more he denies Henry, the more the duke wants him, the higher
his value is set."

"But
this is no game my lord plays, and the stake that is set is his life!" she
exclaimed despairingly. "Robert means every word. He will not swear!"