A Flame Run Wild (17 page)

Curling a tendril of his hair and toying with the idea of ripping it out, she judiciously considered Alexandre's probable reasons for lying. They were complicated and various, but finally Liliane had to admit there were several points that mitigated his guilt. Oh, she could make him pay for his perfidy, if she wanted to make the next twenty years as unbearable as the last three months. If she had learned little else from their time together, she had found that pride and suspicion exacted a terrible price. The wicked slant to her laps softened as she finally reached a decision. With rueful fondness, her fingers wove through his shining curls. No, she had not the heart or the stupidity to punish the deceitful rogue as he deserved, but she would exact one pleasant tweak of revenge. She would not tell him she knew.

Alexandre stretched luxuriously and rolled over on his back. "You were magnificent," he whispered.

Liliane moved atop him and softly bit his underlip. "And you, darling, were never better." Beneath her lashes, she saw his eyes widen in confused alarm, and she kissed him as she had never kissed him before.

Chapter 7

~

Kings May Meddle

Castle de Brueil

Fall and winter of 1189

F
or Liliane and Alexandre, the last days of summer were like a garden of flowers, each a fresh revelation of love's blooming. They were careful to take the time for themselves to let their love grow naturally and fully. In stolen moments from their duties as lord and lady, she and Alexandre picnicked, fished and hunted, although they never returned to the hunting lodge. Then fall winds stripped the trees of their leaves, touching their branches with winter's, first, light snows. Winter closed the castle upon itself, with only a rare visitor or wandering merchant stopping at its doors. The distant wood rang with the sound of falling axes as the woodpiles of the villages and castle rose high against the biting winds from the Alps. In the highest turret of Castle de Brueil, the fire in the grate always burned brightly late into the night.

The castle folk saw the affection between their master and his lady, and although some distrusted the glow in Liliane's face, others swore that she loved their liege lord and would be faithful. At Alexandre's side, she worked among them, tending their injuries and sending them food. She was happy—happy as she had never been, and Alexandre was as proud as a young stag who has at last come into his own, with his chosen mate and a peaceful mastery over his domain.

As the months passed, even Jacques de Signes's cloud hardly darkened their horizon. Although she usually rode with Alexandre, Liliane was now able to roam without hindrance. "I believe that no man of yours will harm your lady now," Father Anselm assured Alexandre in September. "They will not risk their souls as well as your disaffection."

Taking care not to abuse Alexandre's trust and the serfs' tolerance, Liliane went to the message tree only three times all that glorious fall and dark winter. No doubt Jacques's man, who normally visited the tree every other sabbath afternoon, had more trouble during the winter snows, and she found nothing after the first visit.

Upon that visit, she found Jacques's brief inquiry. "Is there trouble?" Her answer that the problem had been solved seemed to satisfy him, for in November the cylinder was empty. She was not surprised that Jacques had heard of her being caught after her foray to the lodge. Castle gossip might be expected to travel; on the other hand, someone might have carried the news to Jacques, yet so far, he had not contested her lies about Castle de Brueil's defenses. If Jacques did have an observer in his pay, the spy might either be playing him foul, or Jacques could be playing her.

Liliane became doubly careful. She was strongly tempted to confide in Alexandre, yet she knew he could not permit her to keep playing such a dangerous game. No doubt his inclination would be to bait Jacques, quickly ending the game, yet the risk of an open attack on the undermanned castle was becoming increasingly possible as spring drew close. Alexandre had seen enough of war; he wanted no more of it. Word drifted down from Paris that Philip planned to leave on crusade with King Richard in the spring; if so, he might soon be years absent from France, leaving Alexandre without him as a vital ally to contend with Jacques.

Liliane needed to devise a plan to discredit and ruin Jacques before Philip departed for Palestine. After much thought, she decided upon a possibility. Father Anselm had mentioned that minor Italian princes sometimes led bandit raids into Alexandre's territory. Why not persuade Jacques to disguise some of his men as Italians and conduct such a raid? She might logically persuade him that Philip would blame the Italians for attacking Alexandre. Once Jacques took the hook, all she had to do was warn Alexandre to prepare for an ambush. If he caught a few "Italian" banditti and forced them to provide confessions for Philip, Jacques would be meat for the royal dogs. Jacques would take the bait because he badly wanted direct access to the sea to lower Ins mercantile expenses. Unlike sullen Louis, Jacques had no love of petty brawls; money was his chief concern.

The slippery point was the possibility that there was a spy in Castle de Brueil. If Jacques guessed that she had been lying about the defenses, he might wrap her neck in her own rope.

In May, Liliane left the suggestion of the banditti in the tree cylinder; however, before she reached the castle, she feared that disaster had already struck. Serfs were whispering and hurrying about the villages like bees whose queen has died. When Liliane inquired, they told her in dismay, "The French and English armies are camped only a day's ride away. King Philip has come to the castle. His escort is enormous!"

And he has come without warning, she thought, their anxiety becoming hers. Philip and Richard must already be on their way to the new crusade. Within a few days of departing the castle, he and Richard would sail with the armies from Massilia for the Holy Land and leave Jacques the leisure to move on Alexandre. Another dangerous, disheartening possibility occurred to her. What if Philip re-enlisted Alexandre to help him fight his new war?

Her white mare became sweat-flecked from the speed Liliane urged on her. As she expected, the castle environs were scattered with tents and strings of horses; soldiers tramping about her spring fields stared at her in open admiration as she galloped past them. After tossing the mare's reins to a hostler in the castle courtyard, Liliane raced up to the turret chamber to change. Her one weapon with Philip would be persuasion, and women were most convincing when they were dressed in their finest. As she pulled on a yellow chainse, from the turret window she glimpsed Alexandre leaning against the old, ruined wall arguing with a tall, dark-haired young man she knew must be Philip. Looking hot and bored, his retinue lounged idly among the rubble. Armor, gear and supplies were piled in the far courtyard and twenty horses crowded the smithy string. About fifty chargers were penned outside the bailey wall. Liliane gave her hair a few short strokes and shoved its honey mass into a long gold snood. Then, wearing her yellow chainse, a pink bliaud and jeweled filet, she hastened down the stairs to the kitchens.

The cooks were scurrying about, trying to find enough knives and trenchers to serve Philip's retinue. Pickled salt bacon was steeping in crocks. Several pigs and mounds of last season's wizened turnips were roasting on the grates as Doucette and three other women turned out pastry for apple and egg pies. From their size, the pigs were probably old ones, but in a day or so, the cooks would be forced to take mother sows and sucklings. The rest of the food being prepared would cut a wide hole in the supplies they needed to last until the crops were harvested at summer's end. Please, let Philip depart soon, Liliane prayed silently. His nags are eating the forage for our animals, and his men are tramping the young seeds into the ground.

Doucette caught her eye. "You do not approve, my lady?" she inquired.

"On the contrary, Madame Doucette," Liliane replied, "you have done admirably. Will sunset be convenient to serve dinner?"

Doucette nodded. She had no love for Liliane, but Liliane accorded her personal and professional respect. Liliane also would accept no nonsense about rudeness and slipshod work. Malcontents were sent to work the fields.

"What will be put on the tables at sunrise, I'd like to know." Doucette wiped flour off her face and whacked out another crust with a twirl of her knife.

"Fish. Send out the village serfs and let them keep a fish for each member of their household if they turn in eight from the catch to the castle by cockcrow."

Doucette swatted a scullery boy with a floury hand. "You heard. Off with you to the villages and tell 'em it's fish." She squinted at Liliane. "Should I ask about lunch?"

"Soup from leftovers, and as for dinner, let Philip's men hunt for it themselves. They will be wanting entertainment in the afternoon. A stag and boar or two should be turned up at the very least."

"And the next day?"

"Plain porridge," Liliane said firmly. "That should urge them on to Massilia."

Her gimlet eyes betraying her suspicion that Liliane might be trying to discredit Alexandre, Doucette put her hands on her hips. "It won't do. The king would be offended."

"From all accounts of him, he is not idiot enough to be offended. Royal retinues are like locusts. Too long in one place can ruin their hosts. Philip must be aware Alexandre is more vulnerable than most in that respect."

"Milady might ask your uncle, the baron, to invite His Nibs for a week," slyly suggested the old cook.

"That is an excellent idea," Liliane agreed calmly. "I may even offer my uncle your services as cook for the king's stay."

With an appalled grimace, Doucette subsided. She would have been grimmer yet had she known that Liliane was seriously considering the older woman's suggestion. Jacques would be both thrilled at the king's notice and horrified at its expense, particularly as Philip would also certainly ask him for a hefty financial contribution to his campaign. Still, before she urged Philip onto Jacques's doorstep, she had best make certain that the king would not be susceptible to her uncle's bribery and blandishments.

Liliane summoned a harper from the village for the night's feast and had children gamer flowers for the high table. Finally she ordered that all the serf women and girls go to the hunting lodge for the evening so that they would not be obliged to accommodate Philip's troops. Only those who wanted to make themselves available were free to remain. Nearly a dozen stayed— no prizes most of them, but enough to cheer the soldiers.

As Liliane sent out a servant to buy extra trenchers from the market outside the wall, Alexandre and Philip strolled into the hall; that is, Philip strutted, while Alexandre moved as tensely as a leashed leopard. Six of Philip's retinue drifted in behind them. Two were richly dressed courtiers who disdainfully glanced at the barren walls and plain furnishings; one was a sharp-eyed, balding little man: in brown surcoat whose expression gave away nothing; the other three were hard-bitten bodyguards.

Philip posed a striking contrast to his companions. A shade taller than Alexandre, with the same wiry quickness, Philip exuded charm and energy. Clad in green and yellow velvet tabard, he was handsome and knew it. His narrow green eyes appraised Liliane with a connoisseur's appreciation, certain of her reciprocal approval.

Liliane gave Philip a lovely, welcoming smile, but she was definitely not attracted to him. He might be Adonis himself, but she had strong reservations about men who locked up one wife to enjoy another. She sank into a curtsy as the men approached. Then, as Philip bade her to rise, she exchanged a quick, sympathetic look with Alexandre. From his tight-lipped expression, she gathered Philip was either deserting or appropriating him. Her heart sank, even as he introduced her to Philip.

Philip, seeming blithely oblivious to the newlyweds' dismay, conveyed his approval of Liliane with a flirtatious grin. "Alexandre, you have found a very pretty countess. I envy your luck." He caught up her hand and kissed it. "How do you find life in the country after the sophistication of Andalusian cities, my lady?"

" 'Tis most pleasant, Your Majesty." Liliane smiled up at Alexandre with particular brilliance in a vain attempt to fend off Philip's attention. Within her was the growing certainty that Philip was going to cost them their happiness. "But, then, I should find life fair with my lord even in a barren desert."

As if disappointed, Philip arched his left brow and laughed softly. "By Saint Michael, Alex, your beautiful wife's in love with you. 'Tis unfashionable but a splendid relief from the calculation of most grasping vixens. Fortunately, Countess, you will not be obliged to follow your husband into the desert; instead, you shall remain in Provence to grace France."

"Remain?" she echoed numbly. "Am I to understand that Alexandre is ..."

"To accompany His Majesty to Palestine," Alexandre finished flatly. He looked at her as if he wanted to cut his own throat.

Liliane could not conceal her stark dismay. At her stricken face, Philip murmured, "Aye, she does love you, you poor cockerel. If I were jealous and wanted revenge, this would be it. If I could, I would reward you better for your past service,
mon ami.
I need you, Alexandre. That infernal roasting spit across the sea may turn kings and heathen to my taste, but my appetite will be satisfied only upon a whole and suzerain France. France, not your mother, birthed you. You were bred not from your father's seed, but from those vast pine forest blowing northward of here to the sea-battered rocks of the Aquitaine." Philip grasped Alexandre's shoulders. "I am a clever fellow,
ami
; I am very good at being king, and you know that not another like me is going to come along for another hundred years. England has a blow-hard bully boy on the throne and a pimply coin counter in the larder; Spain is being gutted by Moors; and Italy by its greedy lords and the Church. This is France's golden hour, and if I have to squeeze your marrow blood and that of a thousand others, I shall use every last, glittering drop. I shall do it"—he shook Alexandre slightly—"and you will damned well smile while I squeeze."

Alexandre was silent for a long moment, then his lips curved in a weary smile. "I have been your man since the Flanders rout; only a pile of rocks over my bones will ever keep me from answering your call. But grant me one boon, if you will, sire; leave the last trump to God."

Philip laughed heartily and threw his arms about Alexandre. "I knew you would not fail me!" He held Alexandre at arm's length again and, to Liliane's surprise, she saw his eyes were glistening with tears. "You are the best of my knights, and my most faithful friend. With you at my side, I cannot fail. Glory awaits us both,
ami
! History follows in our very footsteps. We will bring back the days of Charlemagne and make France so strong that none will dare challenge her integrity."