A Bit of Heaven on Earth (9 page)

The king studied his adviser. The man’s beady eyes gleamed in anticipation. “So give me the missive,” he said cautiously.

“I think ‘twould be wise to see this messenger in person.”

Edward was intrigued. “Then bring him to me.” He wondered what was so important that he must lay eyes on the envoy. His curiosity grew.

Moments later, the courier shuffled in, flustered as so many were in the royal presence. Did they not understand he ate and drank and wenched and belched just like an ordinary man?

“Your Highness.” The man bowed low.

“Rise. Bring me your message.” He thrust out a hand to receive it. “Are you to wait for a reply?”

“Not necessarily, Your Highness. I was told to wait and see if you felt a reply necessary.” The messenger placed the missive in his hand.

He studied the man, not immediately recognizing the colors he wore. “And you are from?”

“Fondren, sire. But the message is not from my Lord Robert. Nay, ‘tis come from Lord Aldred of Kentwood instead.”

Now Edward relaxed and rewarded the messenger with a smile. “Aldred, you say?”

He sat and placed the scroll upon the table, breaking its seal and unrolling it. Aldred brought fond memories indeed. For two score, the nobleman was England’s premier knight, his bravery on the battlefield matched by his keen intelligence and wicked sense of humor.

But why not a messenger directly from Kentwood itself? If memory served him correctly, Fondren bordered upon Aldred’s own property. Why a roundabout way of communications? Were there French spies at Kentwood?

Edward smoothed the parchment and began to read.

Greetings, my king –

I trust this finds you well and in good spirits. I miss our exploits
on the battlefield as much as a nursing babe misses his mother’s breast.

War has been my calling in life, and I often long for those days of yore,
full of splendor and challenge.

Now to business, and I will not resort to flattery, though you know the high esteem I hold for you, my liege. You not only bring England glory every day, but you are a good man, one I admire and respect.

I find I am in the twilight of my years. ‘Tis been a good life, one made
even more pleasant by my dearest Elizabeth, whom you have met. I worry
about her well-being and what will happen to her upon my death. You know
of her beauty and wit, her charm and intelligence. I would ask that you grant
a last favor to a faithful soldier, as ‘tis in your power alone.

As I have no surviving heir, Elizabeth’s fate will be up to you upon my
death. Give her time to mourn, my king. Do not make her a political pawn and
rush her into another union. For all her strength, Elizabeth is yet fragile. I would request you give her in marriage to my neighbor, Robert of Fondren.

Our properties adjoin and could thus be united.

Lord Robert is a good man and familiar to her. ‘Twould be a most advantageous situation for all.

Think it over, my liege, and remember my years of service to you.

I hope you will honor my small request. If you feel need to reply, please direct
your missive to Robert at Fondren. I would not worry my most beloved wife about such matters.

As always, your humble servant,

Aldred of Kentwood

Edward touched the page, running a finger over Aldred’s name. The signature, written in a different hand than the letter’s contents, was barely recognizable. More than likely, Aldred’s health had deteriorated so much that he dictated the letter and then signed his name to it. The seal had been genuine, though, and the tone was so like Aldred. Edward had no doubt the missive came from his friend.

He remembered Elizabeth’s great beauty from previous visits to Kentwood. Her quick wit and vivacity only complimented her striking looks. She would be a great prize for any of his knights upon Aldred’s passing. Yet Aldred’s proposal made sense. To merge the two adjoining estates would be wise. Robert of Fondren was a proven, dedicated soldier. With his steadfastness and Elizabeth’s beauty and intelligence, ‘twould result in fine children that would be loyal to the Crown.

He decided to give Aldred peace of mind and honor this reasonable request. Upon the knight’s death, his widow would have sufficient time to grieve before she received word from her king to marry Robert of Fondren.

He called for ink and clean parchment and wrote a quick response to Aldred before charging the messenger to return the missive to Robert.

“’Tis for your lord to deliver to Lord Aldred. Take it to no other,” he warned as he handed the freshly sealed letter over.

As the messenger left, Edward found himself in much better spirits. So good, in fact, that he decided he would call upon his prisoner. King John enjoyed visitors, especially those who played chess.

He smiled to himself. The French monarch was abysmal at chess. And Edward was in the mood to win.

As always.

CHAPTER 9

“Wife, will you stop fretting over me? I am fine, just stiff from all the time spent in bed. I need to be up and about. Now let me be.”

Elizabeth hid her smile from an exasperated Aldred. He’d been up several times in the last few days, practicing on how to get around with his new walking stick of fine mahogany, a gift from Robert.

“Tell me if you are not feeling well or if you are simply overtired. I will hustle you back to bed, my lord, and make all the proper excuses afterward.”

He snorted and leaned upon the stick. “I missed the last judgment day. I look forward to this one. Nothing will keep me from my people today.”

“Especially now the Lenten season has passed? I know how you miss your sweets during fasting.” She walked to him and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “Besides, the people knew you suffered from chills and fever. All understood. ‘Tis been a dreadful winter these past few months. I am happy spring is finally here.”

She walked and gazed out the small window, a luxury Aldred had added to the solar at her request. “The earth turns green again, my lord.”

Aldred joined her at the window. He brought an arm about her waist. “I hear you have a new tapestry finished that will keep the blustery spring winds from invading our Great Hall.”

His eyes had their old sparkle back. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Aldred. I hope ‘twill please you. You may even recognize a scene or two from your past adventures woven upon it.”

He gave her a squeeze. “You always please me, Elizabeth. You have perfect sense in every way. Whatever changes you have made since I last saw the Great Hall will no doubt be wise ones. I wonder why I even bother to accompany you to these judgment days. You do so well on your own.”

She turned and laid a hand upon his sleeve. “I need you, my husband. I will always need your guidance.” She smiled gently at him. “You made me what I am today. I wish to please you in every way. Make you proud of me.”

Aldred returned her smile and took her hand. “You will please me by getting me downstairs and settled before the proceedings begin.”

“Then take your new stick in hand. Do not rush. And do not think I will miss seeing if you favor your right leg. I will be watching for that. You may have your strength back, but you must—”

“No fussing,” he retorted. “No hovering. Simply let me be.”

She heard the affection in his voice, despite the gruff words. Sweet Jesu, how this man had become her entire world. She thanked God Almighty at mass every morning for bringing Aldred into her life.

The doubts crept in at night, though, as she lay next to him, listening to his labored breathing. What would happen to her after his death? Would she finally come face to face with her long-awaited date at the nunnery? Or would she be forced to return to her father’s castle until the king saw fit to pawn her off onto another nobleman, one that would demand his marital rights?

And who would receive Kentwood? No one could care for it as she had. The property thrived now in no small part due to her excellent management skills. She’d made Kentwood what it was. She deserved to keep it. Damn the silly rules that would not allow a woman to be awarded an estate upon her husband’s death.

Still, no sense in dwelling on the matter. Their people awaited them. Rulings needed to be issued. Disputes must be settled. And afterward they would feast. She’d hired a new troubadour to sing of Aldred’s exploits, hoping to cheer him.

Elizabeth swore to enjoy one day at a time. For as many as were left.

Gavin approached Kentwood, hoping to make a better impression than he had at Ashgrove. He was still thinner than before his imprisonment but not as bedraggled as a few months ago. He now wore clothes instead of rags, though their fit left something to be desired.

He was cleaner now, too, things he hadn’t thought of as he’d urged his tired body homeward two weeks before. He’d taken time to stop and bathe in the cold waters of a nearby river. With some of his money, he’d purchased a razor and was clean-shaven again. The knots were long gone from his hair, which was neatly trimmed. His fatigue lessened each day and his strength grew as he ate better. Making the long journey on horseback was much easier on his body than his trip from London north to Ashgrove.

He wanted to look the best he possibly could before Aldred. He hadn’t seen the warrior in years, not since Crecy over half a score ago. As Kentwood came into his sight, he realized how much he’d missed Aldred and all those at his large estate.

He believed the nobleman would give him a home for now. He would ask to be attached to Aldred’s guard, if possible, or even to Robert’s household, which he knew lay nearby. Or would Aldred advise him to play the knight-errant, seeking adventure and fortune as he went? He had entertained thoughts of returning to the war in France, if nothing else materialized, though he loathed the thought of being on French soil again.

In his highest hopes, Gavin wished Aldred’s connections would allow him a place in King Edward’s retinue. He would give his life for his king and had the skills to protect him in any circumstance if Edward would consider him to become a part of his royal guard.

His determination to go on, though, drove his every thought, much as it had during his imprisonment in France. Anything would be better than living in that cramped cell with the dying all about him. Their pitiful cries still haunted his dreams.

As Gavin moved closer to his destination, he saw the gates opened wide. He stroked Homer’s head absently as he rode on, shaking the nightmare images of the prison cell from his head.

“’Tis judgment day,” he told the kitten, who gnawed playfully on his finger.

He climbed from his horse and walked it up to the portal. Gavin spied a now gray-haired Rufus and called out a greeting. The burly soldier hurried over to him, surprise written across his face.

“Captain of the guard, Rufus. I am impressed with your accomplishments.”

Rufus slapped him on the back. “Why if ‘tis not Lord Gavin. Come home from the wars in France, I dare say.” He pumped Gavin’s hand enthusiastically as he studied him. Gavin saw the look of concern flicker across the soldier’s features.

“And how are you, old friend? Was the fighting so terrible? ‘Tis reed-thin and pale you are, my lord.”

“I’ve been better, Rufus, but ‘tis good to be home on English soil once more.”

The soldier smiled broadly. “I still remember you as a lad at Crecy. You showed such bravery. Oh, my Lord Aldred will be happy to see you at his table tonight. ‘Tis like the Prodigal Son, returning home to Kentwood again.”

He laughed. “But I am neither son nor have I misspent my youth, Captain.”

“Nevertheless, his lordship would want a fatted calf killed in your honor if a feast ‘tweren’t already planned.”

Gavin cocked his head. “And what celebration occurs today?”

“’Tis custom, sir. Lady Elizabeth started it. After each judgment day, all are welcome for a bountiful meal with dancing and music. My lady is wonderful, well loved by all. You will see what I mean. Kentwood ‘twould not be the same without her.”

Rufus motioned him forward. “Come. I will escort you to the Great Hall myself.” He signaled for Gavin’s horse to be taken and cared for.

He followed the soldier into Kentwood. The Great Hall teemed with people. Rufus bowed and left to return to his post, wishing Gavin well. He surveyed the room for Aldred even as Rufus left.

He spied his former overlord on the dais, but the sight took him aback. An old man wearing Aldred’s visage and clothes sat upon the platform. His posture caused him to stoop over in his chair. A shag of white hair now replaced the salt and pepper of Gavin’s memory. In the ten years since he’d last seen him, Aldred had become an old man.

His eyes wandered to the woman seated to Aldred’s right. Even at this distance, he saw how comely she was. A gorgeous mass of auburn curls spilled down the back of her dark blue surcoat. ‘Twas almost a sinful display of great beauty, to have hair unbound in such a manner. She sat as royalty would, with a self-assurance and grace that made her all the more attractive.

Every now and then, she turned to Aldred and chatted easily. The camaraderie between them was obvious. Gavin listened as she rendered several judgments in a row. He realized this woman had become the real power at Kentwood. Immediately, resentment festered in him. For Aldred to age was one thing. For him to lose authority to a woman—albeit his wife—was quite another.

At least her rulings seemed fairly received. She thought quickly in any given situation. Gavin couldn’t help but be impressed with her common sense and easy manner. He almost experienced jealousy at her quick, thoughtful decisions. That skill would make her a formidable opponent in war. He was glad she was a woman, for he would never willingly tangle with the likes of her.

“Have we reached all decisions needed on this day?” Her voice rang out clearly through the hall. He admired her presence and wondered who her sire was.