Chapter Nineteen #3
Val couldn’t believe he was debating this with her.
“Why? Because of that dagger?” he asked, pointing out the obvious.
“I have already told you that they have swords much bigger than that dagger, Vesper. They will slice through you quite easily. Is that what you want me to see? My future wife slain before my eyes?”
“They will not touch her,” Margaretha said.
“I will take out the first man who tries. If you do not believe me, then watch and see. I am not so feeble and old that I cannot swing this sword. Since no man wishes to die by a woman’s hand, it will keep your haters at bay, at least until we reach Winchester. ”
Val was on the end of a losing battle. Shaking his head, he grunted unhappily, lifting a hand to wipe at his face because this situation was so unbelievable. “So you are telling me that simply because a man does not want to have the shame of being slain by a woman, that alone will keep me safe?”
“Exactly.”
Val hated to admit it, but there might actually be some truth to that. A man’s pride was funny that way. But he had to try one last time.
“Mother, please,” he begged softly. “Think of your bad heart. Of your health. This trip will be most taxing. Will you not go home? Please?”
Margaretha was facing forward, looking at the waiting army up ahead with the sword still laid across her lap.
“I cannot,” she said after a moment. “I have my future grandchildren to protect, and my legacy, so I must see this through regardless of my health. Henry will listen to the evidence presented. If he does not, he will be very sorry.”
Val cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you actually going to threaten the king if he does not release me?”
Margaretha didn’t look at him. For a moment, she didn’t reply, seemingly lost in thought. “It is said that Rosamunde travels with Henry these days as part of his court,” she said, almost casually. “I know the girl. I met her at Winchester two Christmases past. Do you recall?”
She spoke of Rosamunde Clifford, Henry’s beloved mistress.
That talk made Val nervous because Margaretha was a friend of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry’s wife.
Val’s mother and father had shared a monogamous marriage and, as far as Val knew, his father had never taken a mistress, but any talk of mistresses upset his mother greatly.
She felt very strongly that a mistress or concubine was immoral.
“What about Rosamunde, Mother?” he asked suspiciously.
Margaretha looked at him, then, and Val didn’t like what he saw in her expression. In fact, it frightened him. Such black determination there, something unmovable and… wicked. Aye, it was wicked.
“If Henry does not release you of all charges, it would be a shame if the dagger that Vesper holds finds its way between Rosamunde’s ribs,” she said. “It would make one less whore in court.”
It was a cold thing to say, shocking and cruel, but not something out of the realm of possibility when it came to his mother. Now Val understood the blackness to her expression… and he believed every word.
“I have never heard you speak that way,” he said.
“That is because my son has never been threatened before. If Henry is going to condemn you, then I will make sure he pays the price.”
“So you are coming with me to kill Rosamunde?” he asked, incredulous.
Margaretha sighed and looked away again.
Her gaze moved over the winter-dead landscape.
“Do you see this land, Val?” she asked. “This is what my soul would be should you leave me. I would be as dead as the ground in winter. Therefore, I have nothing to lose if something happens to you. And an old woman with a weapon can be a deadly thing, indeed. Remember that.”
Val pulled his horse to a halt. They were nearing the army and he didn’t want their conversation overheard. “Am I really hearing this correctly?” he asked. “Are you truly telling me that if Henry does not absolve me of Canterbury’s death, then you will go on a killing rampage to punish him?”
“No one will suspect an old woman.”
Val was stunned. Margaretha hadn’t reined her horse to a halt when Val had and was continuing to plod forward, so he spurred his horse and caught up to her quickly, blocking her.
“Is that how you would have others remember the House of de Nerra?” he hissed.
“A son who was blamed for killing Canterbury and a mother who went mad because of it? Because that is not how I wish to be remembered. If you are serious about this, I will have Dacian put you in irons right now. I will not let you spout threats against Henry and possibly get us all killed when I am quite sure this situation will be amicably resolved. I know you are frightened, Mother, but you must be reasonable. I need your level head. I want to return home when this is all over and marry Vesper and have those grandchildren you so badly want, but I must have your promise that if anything happens, you will not follow through with this insane threats. Promise me!”
He boomed the last two words and Margaretha jumped in spite of herself.
That cool exterior she was projecting suddenly fractured as Val’s anger was unleashed.
She looked at her son, trying not to appear startled by his shout.
After a moment, she merely nodded and looked away again but that wasn’t good enough for Val. He bent over, grabbing her by the arm.
“Say it,” he hissed. “Promise me you will do nothing.”
“You are hurting me.”
“I do not care. Promise me.”
Margaretha was stubborn but she wasn’t foolish. Moreover, she had always been willing to give in to Val’s wishes, no matter what they were. As difficult as it was for her, she surrendered.
“I promise.”
Val released her immediately, looking over at Vesper, who had listened to the entire conversation.
She didn’t look surprised by it; in fact, she looked as if she understood.
Something about those beautiful hazel eyes conveyed understanding in Margaretha’s position.
I have nothing to lose if something happens to you. Val cocked his head at her.
“I do not have to worry about you, do I?” he asked quietly. “You will behave yourself, will you not?”
Vesper nodded, but it was reluctantly. “I will do what you wish me to do.”
“Then go back to Selborne.”
“Anything but that.”
He started to get mad but the ridiculousness, the seriousness, of the situation overwhelmed him and he just ended up laughing about it.
It wasn’t a humorous laugh, either – it was one of disbelief and frustration.
But the truth was that, all things considered, he knew he was a very fortunate man to have two women so devoted to him.
Brave, bold women who would do anything for him, including kill for him.
As foolish as it was, he was touched by it deeply.
Men should be so lucky to have such rabid devotion in their lives.
When he thought he’d lost everything – his reputation, his freedom – perhaps he hadn’t really lost anything at all.
Perhaps those things he’d taken for granted had been the better part of him all along.
The love of not one good woman but two. It gave him the strength to face what he must.
“Very well,” he said, knowing there was nothing short of having them taken back to Selborne in ropes that would force them to return there. “Then stay close to me. We have already wasted too much time. The king is waiting.”
Vesper and Margaretha didn’t leave his side the entire ride to Winchester.