Yearning Heart (30 page)
“Sir Stephen is said to be searching for a safe house for the king to hide until such time as he can make a journey of penance and be forgiven.”
“Where would such a place be?”
“I have been looking at the problem from here,” Hugo said. “What sayst thou that we offer the king a place in our humble dwellings?”
Margaret laughed.
“Canst see King Henry sitting on a stump for a throne? Or eating from a tin cup washed in a mud puddle? Aye, ‘tis a good thought, Hugo, but Sir Stephen will find better for his royal highness.”
Rebecca thought differently.
“It would be a wise thing, his staying in your tent, Hugo. No one would think the king common enough to mix with gypsies and minstrels. How will you ask him?”
“Gerald can approach the back door of the royal kitchen where he has a lady friend. ‘Tis said she is smitten with the redhead and will do much for him. Eh, Gerald?” Hugo pounded the smaller man on the back. “What say you to this?”
Behind the clown mask, Gerald's face was serious. “'Tis true, Hugo. Leona will see me, but how to approach Sir Stephen as his whereabouts are not known?”
“ ‘Tis simple,” Hugo said. “The stables will have the royal team ready when the king is about. See to that ere you go to Leona.”
Chapter Twenty-One
King Henry paced before Stephen, restless hands linked behind his back, his shaggy head bowed. For two hours, Stephen watched his king, never before seen to be so uncertain. For truth, he had reason for uncertainty. His kingdom was in an uproar, his former best friend dead at the hands of the king's own knights.
Stephen doubted that even he, as the king's highest ranked manorial officer, could settle this latest debacle. Even though the king had known nothing of his knights’ intention, he was accountable for them. In the eyes of the courts and the people in the royal kingdom, it was the king's responsibility to prevent such a tragedy.
“Eleanor has turned the children to hostile thoughts of me, Stephen,” the king said, his voice low, disbelieving. “How couldst she desert me in this time of need? I, who have done much for her, loved her much, cared for her inheritance.”
He swung his big arms.
Stephen heard as though they were the words Rebecca spoke. “Marrying the richest heiress in the land did not hurt King Henry.” No, Rebecca would not agree with the king's words, not any of them. She was suspect of the king's love and care for the queen. Oh, yes, she'd say, he did, indeed, take care of her inheritance. He spent it.
Ah, Rebecca. Even in misery for his king, Stephen's body awakened hotly to thoughts of his wife. If ever I return to her, if ever I can see her again as she was in my arms this time. If ever ...
The king spoke again. “I must do penance soon, Stephen. The church and the country demand it of me. My conscience demands if of me.” He swung around. “What say ye, Stephen? Thou art my most trusted servant. Tell me what I must do.”
“ ‘Tis my humble opinion, Your Highness, that we find a safe house for thee until such time as a pilgrimage of penance can be safely planned.”
“Hide?” King Henry frowned. “I? King Henry, hide as the common criminal?”
“ ‘Tis only for a short time, Your Highness. And ‘tis necessary.”
The king stopped pacing, staring at Stephen. His wide form stood over Stephen who, though not a small man, was not the size of the king. A low growl of impatience issued from the king just as a knock sounded. He whirled around as a guard opened the doors into the great hall.
“A Monsieur Benet to see Sir Stephen Lambert, Your Highness.”
“Dost know this man, Stephen?”
“Aye. ‘Tis the leader of the minstrel band Queen Eleanor hired for yuletide entertainment at the palace. The same who performed for Princess Alix the year past.”
The king waved mighty arms. “Send him to the queen. I have no use for such.”
“Monsieur Benet wishes to speak with Sir Stephen, Your Highness.”
“Speak then, Stephen, in haste as we have work to do.”
The king stalked to the end of the dais, muttering profanities at his queen and their children and the world in general.
Stephen turned toward the great hall door in time to see Hugo ushered into the room. The Frenchman bowed low and murmured, “Sir Stephen, I am Hugo Benet. We met in Troyes when...”
“I know who you are. What is your business here?”
“It is rumored thou seek a safe dwelling for the king whilst unease rages in the city. Mayhap I can help.”
“In what way?”
Stephen did not like this man. Rebecca had spent much time in his company, aye, more than a year, and she told Stephen naught of their acquaintance. In his jealousy, he refused to question her, but by God's eye, she should say aught of their time together.
“No one would think to search our humble tent for his royal highness, my lord. If the king would honor us with his presence, we would protect him with our lives.”
“Dost agree that King Henry is innocent of murder even though his knights killed Sir Thomas?”
“ ‘Tis not my judgment, Sir Stephen. I do this because of our friendship with Rebecca whilst she was in our midst.”
“What know ye of Rebecca?”
Hugo looked surprised.
“That she is thy wife, Sir Stephen, but she was a friend and hard worker whilst journeying with our band of minstrels and entertaining. She is well-loved by all.”
“Well-loved, thy sayst?” Stephen took a threatening step towards the Frenchman. “Thou art in love with Rebecca?”
Hugo smiled, showing whiteness behind a thick black mustache. “Ah, Sir Stephen. To love Rebecca is not to be in love with her. She dost not encourage such things. Methinks the lovely Rebecca loves her husband and none other.” Hugo bowed, still smiling.
Stephen's heart jumped but a frown remained on his countenance. This man must not see how affected he was by knowledge that Rebecca loved him. She had not spoken of love for her husband, not even when their bodies united with heat.
“What dost offer as dwelling for the king, monsieur?” Stephen said.
“ ‘Tis only a common tent, my lord, but there is fire to warm him and food to eat whilst awaiting other provisions for his safety. His royal highness will be welcomed by my troupe and no one will allow an enemy in the camp.”
Stephen bowed his head, his thoughts dwelling on the king's danger, knowing the ugly whispers would become outraged cries if justice for Sir Thomas’ murder was not sought, and quickly. There were few paths open to them.
“I thank thee for thy kind offer, Monsieur Benet,” Stephen said. “Willst wait in the hall until I have talked with the king?”
The door closed behind Hugo and Stephen walked slowly towards King Henry. He repeated Hugo's plan. “Your majesty, I respectfully say thou should accept Monsieur Benet's offer.”
The king spun around, the two men stared at each other. Finally, the broad shoulders slumped, and the king said, “Thou art right, Stephen. I must leave here.” He brooded at the backs of his freckled hands. “Ere we go, wouldst see Eleanor and ask that she not provoke the children against me? ‘Tis only right she give me support in this tragedy.”
“Aye, Your Highness,” Stephen said and, bowing deeply, turned and left King Henry alone with his troubled thoughts.
* * * *
“Nay, Stephen, ‘tis not the king's right to our support. He has long neglected our children and me. Yea, even to bringing that ... that woman into my own apartment and tumbling into bed with her on all occasions.” Queen Eleanor's countenance was vengeful, her gray eyes sparkling with anger and a glowing triumph.
Stephen winced inwardly. For all these years, he had fenced his feelings between the royal couple, keeping peace when there was no peace to keep. Shifting his personal opinions to fit those of his lord and master. Would that he had never heard of King Henry and Queen Eleanor.
He was tired. He was frustrated by royal demands. Just ... tired. Tired of it all.
If Rebecca wishes to return to Glastonbury and ride Tor over Moon Cliffs, that is what we will do. New Sarum be damned. I do not need to be closer to London after
this—this damnable thing by the king's knights.
He looked at the queen's haughty stance, her face half turned from him, her nose pointed upward. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her body proudly straight. She did not wish to listen to the king's entreaties.
“ ‘Twould be a brave thing if thou would support King Henry during his trying times, your majesty. Knowledge of his children's love would see him through this horror.”
Queen Eleanor smiled, not a friendly nor a pretty smile, but a taunting smirk.
“ ‘Tis late for Henry to look for love in the family he has neglected lo, these many years, Stephen. Thou knowest as I do it is only that he is frightened, that he feels alone and to blame for the archbishop's murder. And well he should.” She sniffed and turned away. “Henry was warned not to put his friend in such a high place, that only ill could come of it. Methinks Henry's condemnation is well deserved.”
Stephen remained kneeling in front of the queen, and now she looked down at him, a real smile softening her lovely features.
“Ah, Stephen, we art lucky to have such a friend as thee.” She sighed. “I promise to keep the children calm for awhile, but Henry must do his penance alone. I will not be a part of it.”
The queen's promise was more than the king could rightfully expect, Stephen thought, making his way back to the king's room. He gave his report and added what he must.
“ ‘Tis my thoughts thou wouldst be safe with Monsieur Benet for the nonce, Your Highness.”
It was plain the king did not wish to hide in a tent, but if Stephen said he should, then he would agree.
“Aye, Stephen, make the arrangements, and I will accompany thee to this—this minstrel's tent.”
He grimaced in distaste as Stephen bowed and left.
* * * *
“King Henry is being cared for in the main tent, Sir Stephen, and Gerald will guard him with his life. No one will get near nor have any knowledge of who lives there.”
Hugo stood outside another tent where he had moved his and Margaret's belongings to give their room to the king.
“I thank thee for thy help, monsieur. And now, I must needs leave London. If there is trouble ere I return, send a messenger to New Sarum.”
“Margaret is preparing tea with freshly baked bread. Mayhap thou wouldst join us before departing.” When Sir Stephen saw his wife was about, he would be much happier, Hugo thought as he turned away to enter the tent.
“I thank thee for I am sore hungry.”
Stephen sat on a log bench in front of a rough table and rubbed his chin, blinking weary eyes at the dreary sky. It would be good to get home to warm fires and dry clothing.
And Rebecca.
“Good evening, Stephen.”
Stephen's head jerked upward, and he stared at a smiling Rebecca holding out a steaming mug to him. He gaped, mouth open, at his lovely wife.
“ ‘Tis good to see thee well, Stephen,” she said. “I was sore worried about thee.”
“What dost thou here? In this tent with Monsieur Benet?”
“I followed thee, Stephen, because...”
He stood, snatched the mug from her hands and set it roughly on the table. “Get thy things. We leave immediately for New Sarum.”
He was no longer tired or hungry. All had vanished with his anger at finding Rebecca in this man's camp.
“Do not speak to me in this tone, Stephen,” Rebecca said. “Hugo and Margaret and Gerald offered me friendship when I had none. I will not leave ere I have reason to.”
Stephen turned.
“Aubin,” he shouted.
Aubin appeared at his side, his crooked grin wide at the sight of Rebecca.
“Take the Lady Rebecca to the carriage. We depart forthwith.”
“Nay, Stephen, I will not go thusly. Thou art cold and unfeeling, and I will not return to New Sarum. Art not happy that Hugo has offered safe lodging for the king? I thought it kind of him.”
Rebecca bit into her lower lip. This was not as she intended it to be. Stephen should be happy to see her, happy that Hugo provided protection for his beloved king. But, nay, he was the same rough and cold man who demanded that which he wanted. Aye, even her body. Malvina's notion that Stephen would welcome Rebecca's love was sorely misplaced.
Her head lifted. She would not shed tears over this.
“Take her,” Stephen said to Aubin through clenched teeth.
Aubin looked from his master to Rebecca. “My lady,” he pleaded.
“Nay, Aubin,” she said.
Stephen's hands closed on her arms, and he pulled her against his chest. “Thou will do as I say, Rebecca. Thou art my wife, do not forget.”
“How canst I forget when dragged by thee hither and yon whenever thou wishes.” She flung the words at him, hurt and wishing she knew a way to make Stephen hurt. “I was right to leave you. There's no room in your life for a wife. What thou needs is a willing prostitute such as thy king has at his beck and call.”
Stephen, his face like thunder, did not reply as Hugo stepped through the tent opening with Margaret behind him.
“What say, Sir Stephen, we are about to sup.” He looked from Stephen's raging expression to the haughty lift of Rebecca's chin.
“We will away to New Sarum and eat at an inn along the way.”
Stephen turned Rebecca towards Aubin who offered his loosely clothed arm to her. Eyes sparkling dangerously, Rebecca took the arm and walked towards the carriage. She looked back once at Hugo and Margaret and lifted her arm in farewell. She would not satisfy Stephen by fighting in front of them.
But he had not heard the last of her.
* * * *
Stephen's cold countenance showed his displeasure, but Rebecca offered no words of explanation or apology. He deserved none. Her throat choked with unshed tears, and her heart ached for what she wished for and could not have. Wasn't it always so?
Very well. As soon as she could pack, she would leave. He would have to chain her to keep her at New Sarum.
“We will stay the night at the inn near the crossroads,” Stephen told Aubin. “Thou will sleep outside the Lady Rebecca's door.”