Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Read online

  That was surprising enough. But then Benedict lumbered into view, heading toward the tavern like a bad omen made flesh.

  Humming the tune to a ballad about a bold knight and his faithful lady love, Reece entered the hall. He had marched the errant youths to the barracks, given them a good tongue-lashing, and left them sitting on their cots with orders to polish every speck of armor they owned by tomorrow morning. They could start in the short time before the evening meal and finish afterward.

  All things considered, though, they hadn’t gotten into too much mischief. None had been drunk, and not much money had been lost on their youthful wagers. He had made certain of that, and the owner of the tavern knew better than to lead the boys training with Sir Urien too far astray. Sir Urien himself had made that point very clear soon after the man had opened his establishment in Bridgeford Wells.

  He wondered again where Trevelyan and Piers Delasaine had got to, hoping they weren’t fighting again, or getting into trouble of another sort.

  Then his gaze moved to the dais. His father was there, and so was—

  “Gervais!” Reece called out, hurrying forward.

  Even as he did, his heart hammered in his chest. What news did his brother bring? From the look on Gervais’s face, it did not appear to be good. He also looked exhausted, as if he had rushed to Bridgeford Wells as fast as he could.

  They embraced in greeting. “What news from court?” Reece asked.

  “I bring a summons from Henry. You are to appear before him immediately,” Gervais replied.

  Reece could think of only one reason Henry would summon him back to court—the annulment that he no longer wanted.

  Gervais and his father studied him, so singular in their expression, they were like mirror images.

  “To the solar,” Sir Urien brusquely ordered after a sweeping glance around the hall. “We need not discuss all our business in the hall. Your mother is from home, but she can come to us there when she returns.”

  He turned and led the way. Reece followed with Gervais, who glanced at him uncertainly.

  Was his change of heart obvious? Reece wondered. Could Gervais see how unwelcome his news was, news that days ago would have been cause for relief?

  After they entered the solar, Sir Urien closed the door behind them and took his seat at his table. He gestured for his sons to sit. “Now, Gervais, begin at the beginning.”

  Gervais nodded, but first he methodically drew off his gauntlet gloves. He unbuckled his cloak and let it fall behind him on the chair. His preparations, so characteristic of him, threatened to make Reece scream with impatience.

  There was nothing new in that, either.

  “I finally got an audience with Henry, after he returned from hunting in the New Forest. As I had hoped, he was in a genial frame of mind, and I was able to convince him that an annulment of the marriage between Anne and Reece would be the best thing for all concerned. He agreed and that is why Reece and Anne are to return to court.”

  Oh, God. His plan had worked. His stupid, unnecessary plan had worked.

  “He was not angry at the implied criticism?” his father asked.

  “No.” Gervais cleared his throat and spoke without looking at Reece. “Damon Delasaine has not been acting wisely, and I think Henry understands why a man loyal to the king would not wish to be allied with that particular family.”

  “You are not at court now, my son,” Sir Urien rumbled. “Speak plainly.”

  “As bad as we already knew the Delasaines to be, they are even worse. Their crimes are more extensive than we thought.”

  Reece leaned forward. “What crimes?”

  “There are stories of rape, possibly murder. Even on my way here, a serving wench in a tavern was found dead, and the man seen riding away sounded like Benedict Delasaine.”

  “Was he not at court?” Reece asked.

  “No. He has not been at court since shortly after you left. As if all this is not bad enough, Damon Delasaine is apparently trying to seduce the queen.”

  Surely Gervais was wrong, interpreting rumour and gossip in the worst possible light because the Delasaines were their enemy.

  “How do you know what Damon Delasaine plans?” Reece demanded. “I don’t imagine he discusses such things with you.”

  “He’s a vain, arrogant fool who makes his goal plain. Everybody at court can see what he is trying to do.”

  “If everybody at court can see it, why isn’t he charged with treason?”

  “Because then the queen will be implicated, too. Henry cares for Eleanor, and thus far, she is blameless. She has not encouraged the man. She hasn’t sent him away, either,” Gervais added grimly, “but she has done nothing criminal so far, and neither, exactly, has he. But Blaidd says—”

  “Oh, and what the expert on women says must be true?” Reece charged. “He can read Eleanor’s mind and heart?”

  “Not Eleanor’s—Damon’s,” Gervais retorted.

  Reece’s hands balled into fists as he fought to control the rage and dismay building within him. “I point out that so far, there is no proof of any crime on the part of the Delasaines. I agree they seem quite capable of violence and murder and even treason but—”

  “But?” Gervais cried, staring at him. “But? What more do you want? You had less evidence of the man’s evil ambition when you made the wise decision to annul your marriage to his sister. The Morgans agree with me that Delasaine would probably be willing to assassinate Henry if he succeeded in becoming Eleanor’s lover.”

  “Even he could not be such a fool,” Reece declared. “For one thing, he does not have royal blood, so he could never be king.”

  “Unfortunately, he does,” his father said. “Only about a drop, but for him, that may be enough to believe he can succeed. Or a man may rule without a crown.”

  “If the risk to Henry is so grave, have the man arrested and charged.”

  “You do not want to believe this, do you?” Gervais demanded.

  “Of course not. Delasaine is my brother-in-law.”

  “For now,” his father said sternly. “What Gervais has learned makes it even more imperative that you free yourself from this liaison. Damon Delasaine has no more sense than a mad dog, and he will take others down with him in his ambition.”

  Reece could not disagree that any tie to a convicted traitor to the crown meant danger for the traitor’s family.

  “What about these other crimes—the rapes and murders?” he asked. “Why has he not been charged with them? If he were in prison, or executed, he could not assassinate the king.”

  “So far, there is not enough proof for a jury of nobles to convict a knight in a court of law.”

  Reece crossed his arms. “But there is enough for me to annul my marriage?”

  His father studied him with a searching intensity that would have made him flinch two days ago. “What are you saying, Reece? That you no longer want the annulment?” he asked incredulously.

  “Our loyalty is without question.”

  “A man in power can be very suspicious if he thinks that power is in jeopardy,” Sir Urien answered sternly. “Former loyalty may count for nothing if he feels threatened. You should not tarry, but go to court before Damon does something traitorous, especially given that Henry sounds amenable to reconsidering the marriage. I’ve known men like Damon before, and patience is not one of their virtues. When he moves, you do not want to be tied to him.”

  In his mind, Reece knew his father spoke the truth about Damon Delasaine. Men like him would over-reach themselves, and like Icarus flying to the sun, destroy themselves. Unlike Icarus, Damon would take others with him.

  His father’s expression thawed a tiny bit. “I was afraid of this. You have started to care for her.”

  “Yes, I have. She is my wife, after all.” He looked at Gervais. “If what you say is true, what will happen to Anne if she is not my wife? The whole family could have their money and land stripped from them.”

  “Reece,
” Gervais began, “I did not want to have to tell you this, but now it seems I must.”

  A shadow seemed to fall across Reece’s heart as he watched his brother warily.

  “Whenever I encountered Damon after you had gone,” Gervais said, his tone grim but certain, “he regarded me with smug satisfaction, like a peddler who’s sold something at twice its value. It was strange, and raised my suspicions. If he were upset about the marriage as he seemed to be at first, he would not act so. Why should he now be pleased after opposing it before?”

  “He realized there was nothing he could do, and he had no dowry to pay,” Reece replied.

  Gervais’s expression grew even sadder. “Or he realized there was some benefit to be had by this marriage.”

  “It ties him to a better family,” Reece suggested.

  “Yes, it does. But where has Benedict Delasaine gone? I had news of a man fitting his description at all the inns I stopped at on the way here, yet nobody in the castle knows of him. He has not come to visit his sister—at least, not openly.”

  Reece felt a leaden ball forming in his stomach. “What are you getting at, Gervais? As our father says, speak plainly—or do not speak at all.”

  “I am saying that we are the natural enemies of men like the Delasaines. A wife learns many things, and information can be a weapon. It could well be that Damon Delasaine is pleased because he has someone in our household who can pass such information on to him.”

  Reece leapt to his feet. “You accuse Anne?”

  Gervais nodded.

  Reece turned to his father. “Anne is not a spy!”

  “Do you know that with absolute certainty?” his father asked, his voice quiet but cold as a blizzard’s wind.

  Anne could not be a spy. She would never betray him.

  Yet even as his heart shouted denials, his mind recalled her questions about their friends and other things that had seemed unimportant on the journey. He realized the many things a woman helping the chatelaine would learn, of stores that could be used if they were besieged, or weaknesses in the buildings needing repairs. He remembered the way she had surveyed Castle Gervais and that he had told her of at least one secret passage. He would willingly have told her where it was, if she had asked.

  But she had not asked.

  She must be innocent. She could not have been insincere when they were alone together.

  “I know this situation has not been easy for you, but annulment is for the best after all,” his father said, interrupting his tormented reflections. “The Delasaines are the worst sort of men and any links to them must be severed.”

  But Anne? What of Anne? Beautiful, loving Anne, the Anne he had come to love, in every way.

  This had to be wrong. “Father, Gervais, I cannot—”

  A fist pounded on the door. “Sir Urien!” Piers Delasaine shouted, his voice desperate. “Sir Urien, I have to talk to you!”

  Reece started to protest the interruption, but his father held up his hand. “See what he wants that brings him in such alarm.”

  Gervais strode to the door and pulled it open.

  Piers stood on the threshold, his face pale and his body trembling with suppressed emotion. He appeared as upset as Reece felt.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Sir Urien demanded.

  “I have to talk to you,” Piers said as he looked past Reece and Gervais to Sir Urien.

  Sir Urien gestured for the boy to enter.

  “I have come to warn you,” Piers said, his expression grimly resolute, giving them a glimpse of the stern warrior he might become. “I saw my brother Benedict. He was talking to Anne in an alley in the village.”

  Oh, God. Reece felt for a chair and sat heavily.

  “Are you certain?” his father demanded.

  Piers nodded. “I would know Benedict anywhere.”

  “You came here at once?” Sir Urien asked.

  “Yes.” Piers swallowed hard and his gaze faltered, but he spoke out nonetheless. “If Anne is deceiving you, I want you to know I had no part in it.” He raised his eyes to regard Sir Urien steadily. “I want to be a good and honorable man, like you.”

  Reece jumped to his feet and strode to the door.

  “Where are you going?” his father demanded.

  “To find my brother-in-law,” Reece growled as he marched out of the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anne looked up from mending her shift as Lisette hurried into the room.

  “Oh, la, my lady! Here you are!” She frowned as Anne put her shift down, as if wondering what she was doing, but did not puzzle over that for long.

  “What is it?” Anne asked. “Does Lady Fritha need me?”

  “Non, non! Your husband’s brother has come from court.”

  Anne swiftly sucked in her breath. She put her trembling hands on the arm of her chair and rose. “When did he arrive?”

  “Not long ago. He is in the solar with your husband and Sir Urien. Or they were there. Your husband passed by me in the hall and…” She hesitated, blushing. “And perhaps I should be silent.”

  This was such an unusual thing for Lisette to say, more trepidation filled Anne. “What about my husband?”

  Lisette reached for the basket. “I will finish this if you like, my lady.”

  Anne kicked it out of the way, paying no heed to her garment tumbling onto the floor. “What about my husband?”

  The girl didn’t meet her gaze. “He was angry, my lady. More angry than I have ever seen him. And I have heard…that is, I overheard Sir Gervais say that your husband has been summoned back to court.”

  Anne went to the window and looked out unseeing. Gervais could have come to tell them Henry was amenable to an annulment. Perhaps Reece had told his brother, and his father, that the plan was no longer to be followed. Maybe they had quarreled over that alteration, and were angry at Reece for what they had done.

  No matter what had happened between the members of her husband’s family—and now hers—they would have to go to court because it was the king’s command. Once there, Reece would have to tell the king that there was, after all, no cause for an annulment.

  And then what? If his father was angry because the marriage could not be annulled, if Sir Urien still thought her a serious liability, she and Reece would have to…what? Leave here, perhaps.

  She didn’t really care where she went, as long as she was with Reece. But then they would not be so safe from Damon. She could well believe her half brother would try to exact vengeance if he thought them vulnerable.

  And what of Piers? Would Sir Urien let him stay to complete his training? Would Piers want to?

  “My lady?”

  She had forgotten Lisette was there. “Yes?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

  Lisette held up the shift. “Would you like me to finish mending this?”

  “Yes, please, Lisette.”

  The girl sat in the chair and Anne went back to looking out the window. Where had Reece gone in his rage? When would he come back?

  She would keep watch, and when he returned, she would speak with him at once. Lady Fritha would likely be too preoccupied with her other son’s return, or the possible rancor in her household, to miss her daughter-in-law.

  Who was the cause of that rancor.

  Anne sighed and leaned her head against the window frame. She did not want to be the cause of dissension in this happy household.

  “I should not have told you,” Lisette murmured, and with a sniffle.

  Anne turned toward her and saw a tear sliding down her cheek. She hurried to Lisette and patted her shoulder. “It’s all right. I would have found out eventually, and I would rather have such news from a friend.”

  Lisette made a tremulous smile. “I am your friend, my lady?”

  “Indeed, you are. I hope you will always be my friend.”

  Lisette started to sob, hunching over the bundled shift in her hands.

  Before Anne could say anything to comfort her,
a shout caught her attention and drew her again to the window, for she instantly recognized Reece’s voice.

  The guards opened the wicket in the inner gate and she waited anxiously to see her husband.

  But it was not Reece who came through first.

  It was Benedict.

  She watched in horror as Reece frog-marched her half brother across the courtyard and into the hall.

  Fear’s cold fingers squeezed her heart. She had not foreseen this. She should have. Benedict was a fool. He had probably said something when he was deep in his cups that revealed his identity.

  Yet the greater fault was hers. She should have told Reece Benedict was in Bridgeford Wells. She should have told him everything last night, of Damon’s plans and her decision to foil them. She should have confided in her husband—because now what would he think?

  This was the worst thing that could have happened, far worse than Reece’s delay in telling his father of their union, for if Benedict was trapped, he would say anything to free himself—implicate anyone, tell any lie.

  She must confess all now. At once. Reece must hear it from her own lips.

  With firm resolution strengthening her, she ran from the room. As she rushed to the hall, she dared to hope all would soon be well, and her dishonorable covenant with Damon would have no serious consequences. She had erred by not being truthful from the start, but she would make things right.

  She must.

  And because he cared for her, Reece would believe her, and trust her.

  He must.

  Reece and Benedict were not in the hall. The solar, then.

  She was panting by the time she reached it. Trying to catch her breath, she knocked.

  Sir Urien himself opened the door. Reece had a grip on Benedict’s arm, and Gervais stood beside the large table, glaring at her half brother. Even more surprisingly, Piers was there.

  But not for long. When he caught sight of her as she stood on the threshold, he marched out of the room, pushing his way past her without a word.

  What was he doing here? Why did he ignore her?