Part 33 (1/2)

I have lived in castles all my life, and I've never known how it happens. Yet I've seen it time and again-rumors about the lord and lady travel at the speed of a spring tide. That day was no exception.

Within moments of Sir David and Lady Alisoun's disappearance into the herb garden, everyone knew that something of importance had occurred in the training yard. Somehow the lord and lady had come to an accord. The rains would again nourish the crops, the servants would quarrel no more-and the newlyweds would once again share a bed.

I admit I might have had something to do with that rumor, not by anything I said, but by my actions. It was a small thing, but I picked an apple off one of the fruit trees and gave it to Bert. Watching Sir David with Lady Alisoun had mellowed a bit of my adolescent intolerance of bratty tagalong girls, and the half of the castle folk who had found reason to linger in view of the herb garden gate noticed.

So when the call came from outside the gate that the duke of Framlingford waited for permission to enter, everyone scowled. It wasn't so much that he was considered an unsavory character. Everyone knew he was; his reputation resounded throughout England. But he was too lofty a man to be bothered with Lady Alisoun's servants, and Radcliffe had never been important enough to visit before. Yet he had come now, just when we wanted our lord and lady to have a chance to secure their peace.

Instead, Sir David marched Lady Alisoun out of the herb garden like an infuriated parent with a misbehaving child. She tried to shake him off, but he just walked her faster, and when she called to me, I had to run to catch up.

She grabbed me and dragged me with them. ”Go into the keep,” she said. ”Tell my maids that Osbern, duke of Framlingford, has arrived. Make sure all of them know, and tell them to prepare a feast worthy of our honored guest.”

She sounded urgent. Sir David looked grim. I nodded and ran.

Bert ran with me.

Why now? Alisoun wondered desperately. She needed time to accustom David to the fact of who Philippa really was, but time she did not have. The open gate and lowered drawbridge left the way open to any who chose to enter Radcliffe in the daylight hours, but with a courteous flourish, Osbern waited outside for permission. And what could they do? They had to let him in, treat him hospitably, and pretend nothing had ever happened.

The subterfuge made her feel ill. Asking David to share in it seemed unfair, and from the scowl on his face, he felt the same way. In a low, apologetic tone, she said, ”David?”

David moved toward the gate. He didn't look at her. In no way did he acknowledge the plea in her tone. ”We must welcome our guest.”

”I beg you, David...”

He stopped and turned her to face him. He clutched her arm tightly. The black of his pupils had swallowed all the tenderness in his eyes. When he spoke, his deep voice grated like flesh over gravel. ”I will do nothing. You took responsibility when you brought Philippa with you into my castle, and so I will simply hope no disaster overtakes us.” Moving forward again, he dragged her behind him. ”But when Osbern leaves, you and I will talk.”

She had only a moment to realize that she'd underestimated the strength of his fury, then their heels clomped in hollow bursts on the wooden drawbridge.

”My lord!” David waved at the small party of hors.e.m.e.n waiting on the road. ”Welcome to Radcliffe.”

Osbern's face lit up at the sight of his host and hostess, and Alisoun had to close her eyes against the surge of anger and dismay.

With his sleek black hair and his flas.h.i.+ng eyes, he appeared the embodiment of masculine beauty. His steed matched his hair and the background of his coat-of-arms matched his steed. He moved with an oiled grace, and kept himself in the best of fighting condition. He looked, in fact, the perfect knight.

He and his squire moved away from his knights to come before Alisoun and David. Osbern dismounted and strode forward to grasp their hands. ”Is the rumor then true?” he asked. ”Are you wed?”

”Lady Alisoun graciously consented to become my wife,” David answered smoothly.

Osbern's fingers tightened uncomfortably on Alisoun's. ”You are a lucky man,” he said to David.

”Luck had nothing to do with it.” David smiled with practiced ease. ”I'm simply the better suitor.”

Throwing back his head, Osbern boomed with laughter. ”No false modesty from you, eh?”

”None at all.” David freed himself from Osbern's grip and indicated the gate behind them. ”But come inside and take refreshment. It's not often Radcliffe hosts so honored a guest as the duke of Framlingford.”

”Best get used to it, Sir David.” Now Osbern's fingers squeezed Alisoun's to the point of pain. ”With Lady Alisoun as your wife, the king himself will lead the way.”

David picked up her free hand and kissed it. ”Aye, I've married a national treasure.”

”That you have.” Osbern kissed the hand he held, then in a voice meant just for her, he said, ”But feel how cold her fingers are-and on such a summer's day.”

Releasing her, he stepped up to David and they walked shoulder-to-shoulder into the bailey, leaving Alisoun staring at their backs.

So that was how the men would play it. Deceitful courtesy, smiling falsehoods, manly fellows.h.i.+p, and beneath it all, the knowledge that tormented them all. The knowledge of Philippa's existence.

Had Eudo told Philippa of Osbern's appearance? Alisoun stepped out, making a wide circle around David, Osbern, and the stable which seemed to have captured their attention. She hoped viewing the horses would keep them busy while she got to the keep and took the precaution of hiding Philippa.

Behind her, she heard the clomp of horses' hooves as...o...b..rn's knights crossed the drawbridge, then the jingle of tack as they entered the bailey. It sounded as if they were getting closer to her. Even pursuing her. She glanced back.

The horses seemed about to ride her down. Astonished, she stopped and stared. The horses kept moving. The fully armored knights grinned beneath their helmets.

Then Osbern shouted, ”Roger!”

The knights came to a halt, and the lead knight dismounted. He walked toward Alisoun, his hand on his sword. David started toward them at a run.

”Roger!” Osbern shouted again.

Lifting his hands, the knight removed his helmet and grinned, his one tooth winking in the light. ”Do you remember me, my lady?”

Of course she remembered him. Roger of Bissonet, Osbern's steward and faithful servant-and another man who could recognize Philippa if he happened to see her.

David grabbed her arm and faced Roger. Without a smile, he said, ”We greet you, Sir Knight, and offer our hospitality for you and your fine animal.” He looked at all the knights. ”For all of your fine steeds. If you'll go to the stable, my servants will show your squires where to place your horses. After you've ascertained they will have good care, please come to the great hall and wash down the dust of the road with our newly brewed ale.”

Osbern loomed on her other side. Jerking his head toward the stable, he commanded, ”Go on.”

Roger bowed and signaled to the other knights, and they moved away.

Osbern took Alisoun's hand again and bowed over it with every evidence of contrition. ”My pardon, Lady Alisoun. Roger is a mighty fighter, but he's not a deep thinker. He just wanted to greet you and didn't realize how his actions might alarm you.”

Alisoun knew Osbern too well to believe his protestations. His charm scarcely covered his wretched soul, and that he bothered to use that charm at all spoke highly of his respect for David.

She must have paused too long before answering, for David answered for her. ”It would never have occurred to Lady Alisoun to be alarmed by your knight, Your Grace. Her courage knows no bounds, and for that reason I have sworn always to protect her.”

”Even from her own foolishness?” Osbern asked.

She found her tongue quickly enough this time. ”I am the lady of George's Cross. I am never foolish.” She moved toward the keep and to her dismay, both men walked behind her, an unshakable escort.

”Don't listen to her, Sir David.” Osbern sighed in gusty melancholy. ”I thought my dear wife above foolishness, also.”

”What happened to change your mind?” David sounded no more than politely interested, but Alisoun detected the thread of steel in his tone.

”She was in such a hurry to show our child to her dear friend Lady Alisoun, she rose from childbed and rode to Beckon Castle. That's another of Lady Alisoun's holdings, if she hasn't told you. Philippa sickened there, so the ladies took to the road-I told you they were foolish-and went to George's Cross where my dear wife died of...” Osbern paused as if confused. ”What was it she died of, Lady Alisoun?”

Alisoun climbed the stairs to the top, placed her hand on the door latch, and looked back down at Osbern. ”To my enduring sorrow, Philippa and the babe died of a contagious fever.”

”I have so few clear memories of that dreadful time.” Osbern's sharp gaze remained at odds with his words. ”What kind of fever was it?”

”A dreadful one.”