Chapter 14 #3
As they neared London, the heavy traffic toward the city spoke of excitement and acceptance of the new king. The closer they got, however, the more uneasy Lord William became.
Speaking quietly as they rode into Waltham, Galeran's father said, "Once we take our oath to Henry, it is settled."
"Henry will make a better king than Robert."
"Not if he's cursed. I let my dislike of Bishop Flambard and my concern for you push me into supporting Henry, but I'm not sure it's right, lad."
Galeran looked at his father. "You can't go to Westminster and not swear to Henry."
"I know, I know. In fact, I feel a terrible pain coming on..."
And by the time they stopped at the abbey for the night, he was groaning and swaying in the saddle.
Once he was settled and being treated by the monks, Jehanne came over to Galeran. "Is he really sick?"
"With any luck he will be after taking those medicines." Galeran flipped open a satchel with considerable irritation. He looked up at Jehanne and saw she already guessed the truth.
Having checked that no one was close by, he said, "He's never been easy about Rufus's death.
It was Flambard's interference in our affairs that pushed him into supporting Henry, then he stuck with it to aid us.
Now, however, his conscience balks. His opinion—and he could be right—is that no enterprise built on murder can succeed. "
"No enterprise supported by Bishop Flambard can be worthy."
"I feel the same way, but it's not logical. Good and bad men often end up on the same side."
"What will it mean to us if your father stays here?"
"As long as he doesn't openly support Robert's claim, it could be all right. With luck Henry will have to try to woo him."
"We will go ahead then, without Lord William?"
"Of course. We need this settled and these early days will be best. I suspect Henry is promising anything to anyone to gain support."
She let out an exasperated breath. "Your father is right. There should be more to this than expediency. If it weren't for me, you would both have a freer choice."
He touched her cheek. "Jehanne, I have forgiven you. It would be pleasant if you could forgive yourself."
She closed her eyes, clearly close to exhaustion, but of the spirit more than the body. "It's not so easy. Just think how it could have been...."
He ached with the need to heal all her hurts, but he could do nothing more than he was doing.
"Not so very different, love, especially as far as the question of who should be king goes.
I know Robert, and I don't want him as king of England no matter who fired that cursed arrow.
" He put an arm around her, to support and guide.
"Come on. We'd best go and find Aline and Raoul before they get up to mischief. "
The abbey was crowded with travelers heading to London, however, so there was no danger of Raoul and Aline finding privacy even if they wanted to. In fact, they were on a low cloister wall making music on cheap reed pipes.
"Raoul bought them from a packman," said Aline when she'd finished a little trill. "There's quite a fair out there, he says, sprung up to amuse the crowds. Why don't we explore?"
Galeran and Jehanne shared a glance, agreeing that it would be preferable to sitting in one of the crowded guest rooms worrying.
Evening shadows were lengthening and the local people hurried home for their suppers, but the acrobats and jongleurs hung around the square outside the abbey hoping to attract pennies, and some merchants and packmen had not yet put away their wares.
Galeran bought pasties from a pieman, and they ate as they wandered among the impromptu stalls delighting in pots and platters, beads and carvings, shoes and hoods.
One merchant had fine bolts of silk for sale, but the traveling party were in no mood to burden themselves with such as that, so he tempted them instead with ribbons. Galeran bought Jehanne an ell of blue, and Raoul chose white for Aline.
Aline knew she should be wary of the flamboyant southerner who could never be for her, but she wanted a gift from him to cherish through the long lonely years.
"For purity," he said with a teasing grin as he skillfully tied the long strip into an elaborate knot.
"Somewhat tangled purity," she remarked as she took it.
"Pretty, puzzling, challenging. Like you."
Aline glanced at him warily. "Is today the day for flattery exercises, Sieur Raoul?"
"You guessed! I delight in a quick-witted opponent."
Heart speeding, Aline fired back. "Then I must confess that you, too, are handsome and challenging. But not particularly puzzling. Your intent is clear."
"Is it? It's not even clear to me, sweet Aline."
"Then I have reason to worry indeed."
"Yes, you do."
She twirled the pretty white ribbons. "I seem to receive so many unhelpful warnings.
So," she said, looking up at him, "here I am, safe within the walls of my purity and resolution, and unlikely to open the gates just because of pretty words.
What would an evil attacker—a hypothetical evil attacker—do to harm me?
In what skills do I need to be trained next? "
"I am beginning to think I should build myself a sturdy keep and huddle. However," he said, steering her onto another stall, "one option for your enemy is to lay siege. But that could take a long time."
As they strolled past a tinsmith, she asked, "Is my castle not worth time, sir?"
"Undoubtedly, but time is not always available. What if your suzerain were to approach with supporting troops?" He cast a meaningful glance at Galeran and Jehanne, who had paused to watch a fire-eater.
"In that case, I suppose my enemy would need to decamp. Unless he could find a speedier means of assault."
"You have an excellent understanding of warfare. But to charge straight at such a well-defended fortress would be suicidal, don't you think?"
She looked up at him. "Then I'm safe? I didn't think war was so easy." Or so disappointing. Aline was aware that she did not want her besieger to fold his tents and ride off to find an easier target. Not at all.
He leaned against the tinsmith's cart. "No castle is safe from a truly determined assailant. With time your attacker could mine the walls, burrowing underneath, supporting the passages with timber, then setting fires to bring them down."
Aline was powerfully tempted to lay her hand on his very broad chest. Did a besieged castle ever just throw open the gates and invite conquest? "But our hypothetical attacker does not have time..."
He took her hand, rubbing his thumb gently against her skin. "In which case he could attempt assault from a distance. He'd use projectiles, attempting to batter down the walls."
"That sounds rather dangerous to me. Wouldn't I be on the walls hurling things back?"
"And we all know how formidable you are on walls...."
"Oh," she said, lips twitching, "were you hurling yourself at me?"
When he'd stopped laughing, he raised her hand and kissed it. "The other approach, of course, is betrayal."
He switched his grip on her hand, seized her around the waist, and swung her behind the cart so that in a couple of whirling seconds she was out of sight of the others, trapped by his body in a shadowy corner, his hand shutting off her cry.
Aline stared up at him, both terrified and thrilled. Jehanne had warned her. Were the warnings to come true?
He eased his hand away from her mouth, but immediately sealed it with his own, a hot, overpowering kiss that had nothing to do with courteous wooing and everything to do with conquest.
His whole hard body pressed against her, drowning her in power and danger and a spicy smell of horse and leather. With a sudden shift he pulled her skirts up and thrust his thigh between hers. Despite her stifled shriek, he raised his foot onto the wagon wheel so her feet left the ground.
She had to clutch at his shoulders for balance, as she was stretched wide, pressed open against him. A jolt of something shot right through her.
Panicked by her own feelings, she pushed desperately at his chest, but all her strength didn't move him one inch. He just rocked his leg beneath her and stretched her mouth, overwhelming her with tongue and thigh and arms until her resistance weakened and she could scarcely think, never mind fight.
Then she kissed him back and found that surrender was much more rewarding than resistance....
At last, at long last, he released her lips with very flattering reluctance, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Are you conquered yet, little castle?" It was hardly a question, but a smug announcement.
Aline pricked him in the back with the knife she'd slid out of his sheath. "Are you? "
Shock wiped away the smile, but then it slowly returned, though his eyes were a great deal more alert. "Feint, then attack. Excellent tactics. There are dangers to taking prisoners you can't handle, though."
Aline prayed for a steady voice despite her absurd position, still straddling his thigh. "I can handle you, Raoul de Jouray. I'll let you go for ransom, just as long"—she pushed the knife in a fraction farther, so he hissed—"as you admit that you were as overwhelmed by that assault as I."
"More, my fair opponent. Or you'd not have my knife."
She hadn't expected such full capitulation.
Warily, she moved the knife, watching for retaliation.
But he simply eased her to the ground, then stepped back and held out his hand.
She placed the knife in it and straightened her clothes, distressingly aware of a heated ache where his thigh had been, an ache that made her want to seize his belt and haul him back to her.
She looked down, concentrating on the precise arrangement of her gown.
"You are a remarkable woman, Aline of Burstock."
She looked up. "Because I am not driven totally witless by your kisses?"
"Because you can keep your wits under pleasure." He slid the knife slowly, very slowly, into his jeweled sheath. "Do you deny the pleasure, Aline?"