Chapter Six
“Peregrine said that she was brought back to Westminster last night,” Domnall said. “It cost me nearly every coin I have, but he told me that the wedding is planned for today at Westminster. What will we do? We do not have Uncle Rhun’s document yet.”
Rotri had been seated, eating his morning meal of bread and wine, when Domnall burst into the apartment. Startled by the news, he tried to swallow the bite in his mouth but ended up spitting it onto the floor so he wouldn’t choke.
“Today?” he sputtered. “When?”
Domnall shook his head. “Near sext,” he said, naming the noon liturgy of the hours. “If that is true, there is not much time.”
Rotri was already up, brushing off his tunic and wiping at his mouth for any remnants of crumbs.
“We must go now,” he said. “We must be there when Callie and de Reyne arrive. I am not entirely sure we can stop the marriage without the document in hand, but we can try. I can plant the seeds of doubt, mayhap enough to cause a delay.”
He was heading for the wardrobe where his cloak was hanging.
The apartment had six big chambers, not including two smaller chambers on the sublevel of the building where the servants slept near the kitchens.
An older servant who had been with Dordon for many years rushed in to help Rotri don his cloak as Domnall already headed for the entry door.
Rotri pulled his cloak on, heading for the door after his son as the servant followed after him, straightening it out and brushing off any visible dirt.
Down the stairs and they were out into the cluttered yard behind the manse.
Domnall’s horse was already waiting, so it was simply a matter of preparing Rotri’s horse, an aging animal that he’d had for almost thirty years.
All of the fine horses he’d purchased over the years had been lost in gambling games, including one to his son, who was riding that prize today.
A young beast, blond and strong, and Rotri eyed his son as he mounted the animal.
He was still peeved that Domnall managed to wrest the horse away from him.
He loved his son, but he hated losing to him.
Soon enough, Rotri’s horse was brought around and Rotri mounted the beast, heading out to the Lombard Street with Domnall beside him.
There were crowds out today, as it was market day, so they had to slow down or risk running people over.
The weather was warm, with dust kicking up in the air and children and dogs running through the street.
One dog ran up to Domnall’s horse and barked, causing the horse to nip at it.
Domnall chased the dog away.
“You still have not told me how we are going to prevent this marriage,” he said to his father. “You do not have Uncle Rhun’s missive in your possession, so it will be your word only, and I doubt that de Reyne or Henry will stop their plans simply because you say so.”
Rotri knew that but was clinging to the hope that his convoluted logic could postpone this wedding.
“It depends on how convincing I can be,” he said.
“Mayhap if I create enough of an argument, they will at least delay the wedding until the missive in question can be presented. The king knows I have staked a claim on Callie. I will bring the document to the Archbishop of Canterbury and let him decide the intent of my brother. If he agrees, then approval of her marriage will be given to me and, of course, I will not approve.”
“And you will proceed with the dispensation.”
“Exactly. Time will be on our side.”
Domnall lifted his eyebrows. “You really should have remembered this missive sooner,” he said. “It could have saved us a good deal of time and effort to prove Uncle Rhun’s intent when it came to Callie.”
Rotri grunted. “As I said, I did not think it would be so difficult to gain our wants,” he said.
“Moreover, how am I supposed to remember a missive I tossed aside nearly the moment I received it? Constantine was alive, as was Rhun, and the chances that Callie would not have anyone to take charge of her and her fortune were very small. I put it aside and forgot it.”
Domnall didn’t reply. It wasn’t the first time his father had forgotten something important.
Forgetfulness had been increasing as Rotri got older, but so did his agitation at small things.
The man was volatile in the best of times these days, and forgetting something as important as Rhun’s missive requesting Rotri’s management over his daughter should it come to that wasn’t surprising. Disappointing, but not surprising.
But Domnall let it go. There was no point in harassing his father over it. Rotri seemed moderately convinced that their interference would work in spite of the lack of the document, but Domnall wasn’t so sure. He, too, hoped it would be enough.
They would find out soon enough.
Westminster Palace loomed ahead, sitting on the banks of the Thames like a great, rambling beast. The spires of Westminster Cathedral could also be seen, shrouded in the faint smoky haze that hung about London these days.
Smoke from cooking fires, from dust, clouded up in the hair and created a layer of murk that clung to the entire city.
Sometimes, the breezes from the ocean to the east blew it out, but today was not one of those days. Everything looked smoky and dirty.
But that wasn’t what had Domnall or Rotri’s attention.
That enormous cathedral up ahead did.
They could only hope they were in time.
*
“Are you awake?”
Caledonia wasn’t entirely sure that she was. She thought she might have been dreaming. She’d been staring at an unfamiliar ceiling for an indeterminate amount of time before she heard a soft, deep voice ask the question.
Are you awake?
She recognized the voice.
Her heart began to beat a little faster.
Slowly, she turned her head and the hammers started. Hammering her skull, her brain, her eyeballs, and even her teeth. Everything seemed to hurt.
Her hands flew to her head.
“I think I am dead,” she muttered.
She heard a snort. “You are not dead, though you might wish you were, given the pain you are now experiencing.”
She grunted, eyes scrunched closed. “Nay, I am dead,” she said. “Send every physic in London to me now, please.”
“You think that multiple physics can cure your ache?”
“I think it will take that many to carry my giant head out of this chamber for burial, because it feels as if it weighs more than a horse.” She peeped an eye open, catching sight of Thor as he came into view. “Why are you grinning at me? Where am I?”
His big arms were folded over his chest as he gazed down at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. “At Westminster,” he said. “I did not know where you were staying in London, so I brought you here. This is my chamber.”
Her other eye popped open and she stared at him a moment before lifting her head slightly and looking around at what was genuinely a grand chamber.
The ceilings were soaring, the walls paneled and painted, and five enormous arched windows were overlooking…
something. She couldn’t see what was beyond the windows, but she could hear men and birds and the sounds of a morning.
She laid her head back down again.
“I do not remember coming here,” she said, closing her eyes against the surging ache.
He unfolded his arms and moved to the edge of the bed. “I am not surprised,” he said. “That drink you ordered was… powerful. It put you to sleep.”
She put her hands over her eyes. “It has never done that to me before,” she said. “I usually tolerate it.”
“Not this time.”
She uncovered one eye and looked at him. “Did you poison me?”
He shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. “When did I have the chance?”
“I do not know. I do not remember.”
“What is your last memory?”
She had to think on that. “You told me I had a lyrical name,” she said. “You said it was beautiful.”
“Like you.”
Both hands came away from her eyes and she propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at him as much as her red-rimmed eyes would allow.
“If you think sweet words will convince me to marry you, then you are sadly mistaken,” she said. “I do not want to hear them.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “I would not use sweet words to coerce you,” he said. “I am not manipulative by nature. Moreover, I do not need to coerce you. You lost our bargain and that means we shall be married today.”
Caledonia almost argued with him, vehemently, but she remembered the part of the conversation where she had agreed to a wager.
She thought she could out-drink him, but he, in fact, had held his own.
More than that, he had bested her. Given that she had told him she was a woman of honor, it would do no good to continue the fight.
Looking around, she could see that she was in a very big bed.
She thought she knew why.
“I see,” she muttered. “And you brought me back here to consummate a marriage that will take place today. Is that it?”
Thor shook his head. “I did not touch you,” he said. “You snored like a drunkard all night. I do not take advantage of women who are not agreeable to something as serious as that.”
Somehow, she believed him. He’d never given her a reason not to believe that he was a man of honor, and, as she’d told him, honor meant something to her. It was practically the only thing she had that preserved her dignity. After a moment, she smiled ironically.
“So you have your bride,” she muttered, tossing back the covers to see that she was still in the clothing she’d been in the night before, down to her shoes. “I lost and you won.”
“That is the gist of it.”
“And you expect me to go quietly?”
“I expect you to honor your word.”