A Kingdom of Dreams (34 page)

"There, you see!" Jenny said looking around at the taut, waiting crowd and raising her voice with relieved conviction, "He meant no serious harm, and the intent is as important as the crime itself." Turning back to Jake, she said severely, " 'Tis obvious some form of atonement is called for, however, and since you are so very good with your throwing arm, I think it should be put to better use. Therefore, Jake, you'll spend each morning helping the men hunt for game for the next two months. And if there's no need for fresh meat, you'll come to the castle and help me here. Excepting Sundays, of course. And if your—"

Jenny stopped in shock as the boy's weeping mother threw herself at her feet, wrapped her arms around Jenny's legs and wept, "Thank you, milady, thank you. 'Tis a saint yer are. Bless you, thank you—"

"No, don't do that," Jenny pleaded desperately when the overwrought woman picked up the hem of Jenny's skirt and kissed it. The husband, cap in hand, came to retrieve her, his eyes shining with tears as he looked at Jenny.

"If your son is needed to help in your own planting," she said to him, "he can perform his… er… penance in the afternoons instead."

"I—" he said in a choked voice, then he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and said with touching dignity, "will keep yer in my prayers ever' day of my life, milady."

Smiling, Jenny said, "And my husband, too, I hope."

The man paled, but he managed to look the fierce, dark man standing beside her in the eye and to say with meek sincerity, "Aye, an' you, too, milord."

The crowd disbanded in eerie, wordless silence, casting surreptitious glances over their shoulders at Jenny, who was wondering if perhaps two months had been too long a time. On the way back into the hall, Royce was so silent that she cast him an anxious glance. "You looked surprised," she said apprehensively, "when I mentioned two months."

"I was," he admitted with ironic amusement. "For a while, I thought you were going to congratulate him on his excellent aim and invite him to join us for supper."

"You think I was too lenient?" she said with relief as he opened the heavy oaken door of the hall, standing to one side for her to precede him.

"I don't know. I've no experience in dealing with peasants and maintaining order. However, Prisham should have known better than to talk of a penalty like death. 'Twas out of the question."

"I don't like him."

"Nor do I. He was steward here before, and I kept him on. I think 'tis time to look for another to replace him."

"Soon, I hope?" Jenny urged.

"At the moment," he said, and Jenny missed the wicked gleam in his eyes, "I have more important matters on my mind."

"Really, what are they?"

"Taking you to bed and then eating supper—in that order."

 

 

"Wake up, sleepyhead—" Royce's lazy chuckle brought Jenny awake. " 'Tis a glorious evening," he told her as she rolled onto her back and smiled languorously at him. "A night made for loving and now—" he nipped her ear playfully "—eating."

By the time Royce and Jenny came downstairs, many of the knights had already finished eating and the trestle tables had already been dismantled and propped neatly in their appropriate place against the wall. Only those knights who were privileged to dine at the main table on the dais seemed to want to linger over each course.

"Where is my aunt?" Jenny asked them as Royce seated her beside him at the center of the table.

Sir Eustace tipped his head to the archway on his left. "She's gone to the kitchens to instruct the cooks to prepare a greater quantity of food for tomorrow. I don't think," he added with a grin, "that she realized what monstrous appetites we'd have if offered tasty food."

Jenny looked around at the platters on the table, most of which were already empty, and breathed a silent sigh of relief. "It is—tasty then?"

"Fit for the gods," the knight exaggerated with a grin. "Ask anyone."

"Except Arik," Sir Godfrey said with a disgusted look at the giant, who had systematically stripped an entire goose down to the carcass and was finishing the last few bites.

At that moment, Aunt Elinor bustled into the hall, her face wreathed in a smile. "Good evening, your grace," she said to Royce. "Good evening, Jennifer, dear." Then she stood at the foot of the table, beaming her complete approbation at the occupants of the table, the empty platters, and even the serfs who were clearing away the debris. "Everyone seems to have had a veritable feast on my dishes."

"If we'd known you meant to come down and enliven our meal with your presence," Stefan said to his brother, "we'd have saved you more."

Royce gave his brother an ironic glance. "Really?"

"No," Stefan said cheerfully. "Here, have a tart, 'twill improve your disposition."

"I'm sure we have something tasty left in the kitchen," Aunt Elinor said, clasping her small hands in sublime pleasure at this reception of her efforts. "I'll have a look while I get my poultice. Tarts will improve anyone's disposition, except Arik's."

Casting an amused look at his fellows, Stefan added, "There's naught that can improve his disposition—not even pine boughs."

The mention of pine boughs made all the others grin as if they were sharing some particularly delicious joke, but when Jenny glanced at Royce, he seemed as perplexed as she. Aunt Elinor provided the answer as she bustled in with a serf carrying platters of hot food as well as a small bowl and cloth. "Oh my, yes, Arik and I brought back all sorts of them today. Why, by the time we returned, his arms were positively laden with lovely branches, weren't they?" she said brightly.

She paused to cast a puzzled look at the knights, who were suddenly seized with fits of strangled laughter, then she picked up the bowl and cloth from the serf's tray, and to Jenny's alarm, the elderly lady began advancing on Arik with her poultice. "You didn't have a pleasant time today, did you?" she crooned, putting the bowl beside Arik and dipping the cloth in it. "And who can blame you?"

Emanating compassion and guilt, she glanced at Jenny and said sadly, "Arik and I encountered the most
evil-natured
spider I've ever had the misfortune to meet!"

Arik's expression turned thunderous as he watched her dip the cloth in the bowl from the corners of his narrowed eyes, but Aunt Elinor continued blithely, "The vile little creature bit poor Arik when he did nothing at all to provoke it except to stand beneath the tree where it had its web. Although," she added, turning to the glowering giant and shaking her finger at him as if he were six years old, "I think 'twas very naughty of you to retaliate the way you did."

Pausing to dip the cloth into the bowl, she told him sternly, "I could understand why you smashed the
web
with your fist, but I do not think 'twas sensible to blame the
tree
as well and cut it down with your axe!" She tossed a bewildered look at Sir Godfrey, whose shoulders were shaking with mirth, and then at Sir Eustace, whose shoulders were also rocking and whose blond hair was nearly in his trencher as he tried to hide his laughing face. Only Gawin looked truly alarmed as Aunt Elinor said, "Here, dear boy, let me just dab this on your fac—"

"NO!" Arik's meaty fist slammed on the heavy oaken table, making the platters dance. Shoving away from the table, he stalked out of the hall, his body rigid with wrath.

Stricken, Aunt Elinor watched him march out, then she turned to the occupants of the table and sorrowfully said, "He'd not be so very testy, I'm sure, if only he'd
eat
according to my suggestions. 'Twould solve his bow—his
digestive
," she amended hastily for the sake of the diners, "problems. Which I thought I explained to him very clearly today."

After supper Royce fell into a discussion of manly topics with his knights—topics that ranged from how many additional men should be assigned to help the castle armorer with his added burden of repairing the helmets and chain mail of the men-at-arms who'd returned with Royce, to whether or not the big catapult on the battlement had an adequate supply of stones laid by.

Jenny listened attentively, loving the quiet authority with which Royce spoke and generally enjoying the unexpected pleasure of being part of a family of her own. She was thinking how warm it felt and how strange, when Royce called a halt to the discussion of catapults and turned to her with an apologetic smile. "Shall we walk outside? 'Tis a pleasant night for October—much too pleasant to spend it discussing things that must seem very boring to you."

"I haven't been bored," Jenny said softly, unconsciously smiling into his eyes.

"Who would have guessed," he teased huskily, "that the selfsame woman who once tried to carve my initials on my face with my own knife would be so agreeable a wife?" Without waiting for an answer, Royce turned to the knights as he politely helped Jennifer arise. After reminding them to assemble in the bailey after breakfast for a practice session at the quintain, Royce escorted Jennifer from the hall.

After they left, Sir Eustace turned to the others and said with a grin, "Have you ever known Royce to indulge in moonlight strolls before?"

"Not unless he was anticipating a nocturnal visit from the enemy," laughed Sir Lionel.

Sir Godfrey, the eldest of the group, didn't smile. "He's been expecting one since we arrived here."

W
here are we going?" Jenny asked.

"Up there to see the view," Royce said, pointing to the steep steps that led up to the wall-walk, a wide stone ledge adjoining the castle wall that ran through all twelve of the towers, enabling the guards to patrol the entire perimeter of the castle.

Trying to ignore the guards, who were posted at regular intervals along the walk, Jenny looked out across the moonlit valley, the breeze blowing her hair about her shoulders." Tis beautiful up here," she said softly, turning to him. "Claymore is beautiful." After a minute, she said, "It seems invulnerable. I can't imagine how you ever managed to seize it. These walls are so high and the stone so smooth. How did you manage to scale over them?"

His brows lifted over amused gray eyes. "I didn't scale them. I tunneled
under
them, shored them up with beams and then set fires in the tunnels. When the beams collapsed, so did the wall."

Jenny's mouth opened in shock, and then she remembered something: "I heard you did that at Castle Glenkenny. It sounds dangerous in the extreme."

"It is."

"Then why did you do it?"

Brushing a stray lock off her cheek, Royce said lightly, "Because I can't fly, which was the only other way to get into this bailey."

"Then 'twould seem," she remarked thoughtfully, "someone else could get in here the same way."

"They could try," he said with a grin, "but 'twould be foolhardy. Just beyond us, a few yards from the walls, I had a series of tunnels constructed, ones that will collapse on invaders should any of them decide to try what I did. When I rebuilt this place," he said, putting his arm around her waist and drawing her against his side, "I tried to redesign it in a way that even
I
couldn't breach it. Eight years ago, these walls were not of such smooth stone as they are now." He nodded at the turrets that rose high above the walls at regular intervals. "And those towers were all square. Now they're round."

"Why?" Jenny asked, intrigued.

"Because," he said, pausing to brush a warm kiss upon her forehead, "round towers have no nice corners for men to use to climb them. Square ones, like those you had at Merrick, are especially easy to climb, as you well know…" Jenny opened her mouth to issue a deserved reprimand for bringing up such a subject, only to find herself being kissed. "If the enemy can't climb the walls or tunnel beneath them," he murmured against her lips, as he kissed her again, "the only other thing to do is to try to set fire to us. Which is why," he whispered as he drew her against him, "all the buildings in the bailey now have tile roofs, instead of thatch."

Breathless from his kisses, Jenny leaned back in his arms. "You're very thorough, my lord," she teased meaningfully.

An answering smile drifted across his tanned face. "What is mine, I intend to keep."

His words reminded her of things of her own she had not been able to keep—things that should have belonged to their children.

"What's wrong?" Royce asked, watching her expression turn somber.

Jenny shrugged and lightly said, "I was merely thinking that it's natural you'd want children, and—"

Tipping her face up to his, Royce said quietly, "I want
your
children." She waited, praying he would say 'I love you,' and when he didn't she tried to tell herself that what he
had
said was nearly as good as 'I love you.'

"I had a great many things—jewels and things—" she continued wistfully, "things of my mother's that by rights should have belonged to our children. I doubt my father would give them to me now. I wasn't dowerless you know, if you read the betrothal contract."

"Madam," he said dryly, "you're scarcely dowerless now."

Feeling truly belittled by the sudden realization that she'd come to her marriage with only the soiled garments she wore, she turned around in his arms, gazing out across the valley. "I have nothing. I came to you with less than the lowest serf, without so much as a single sheep as dowry."

"No sheep," he agreed dryly. "Your only possession is the most beautiful little estate in all England, called Grand Oak—because of the giant oaks that guard its gates." He saw her startled look and added with a wry smile, "Henry gave it to you as a bride gift. 'Twill be your dower house."

"How… how nice… of him," Jenny said, finding it extremely difficult to speak so of the English king.

Royce shot her a sardonic, sidewise glance. "He took it from
me
."

"Oh," Jenny said, nonplused. "Why?"

" 'Twas a forfeit levied on me for actions pertaining to a certain young Scottish girl captured from an abbey."

"I'm not so certain we were on the grounds of the abbey."

"According to the abbess, you were."

"Truly?" she asked, but Royce didn't hear her. Suddenly he was staring intently at the valley, his body taut and alert.

"Is something wrong?" Jenny asked, peering worriedly in the direction of his gaze, unable to see a single thing out of the ordinary.

"I think," he said coolly as he stared out at a nearly invisible speck of light far beyond the village, "our pleasant evening is about to be interrupted. We have guests." Six more tiny pinpoints of light bobbed into view, then a dozen more and then twice that many. "At least a hundred, possibly more. Mounted."

"Guest—" Jenny began, but her voice was drowned out as a guard far off to her right suddenly raised his trumpet and blew an earsplitting blast on his clarion. Twenty-five other guards, stationed at intervals along the wall-walk, turned in his direction, and a moment later, after confirming what he saw, they lifted their own clarions and suddenly the peaceful night was split with the ominous blasts of trumpets. Within seconds men-at-arms were pouring into the bailey with weapons at the ready, some of them dressing as they ran. Frantically, Jenny turned to Royce. "What's wrong? Are they enemies?"

"I'd say they're a contingent from Merrick."

Sir Godfrey and Sir Stefan bolted up the steps of the wall-walk, strapping on long swords, and Jenny's whole body began to tremble. Swords. Bloodshed.

Royce turned to issue orders to the captain-at-arms, and when he turned back to Jennifer, she was staring out at the flickering lights, her fist pressed to her mouth.

"Jennifer," he said gently, but the eyes she raised to him were wild with terror, and he realized at once he had to get her away from the scene of what obviously looked to her to be preparations for a full-scale battle.

Hundreds of torches were being lit in the bailey and on the castle wall, and the whole scene was already aglow with eerie yellow daylight as Royce took her arm and led her, down the steps and into the hall.

Closing the door to his bedchamber, he turned to her, and she looked at him in numb anguish. "Should you not be out there—with your men?"

"No. My men have been through this drill a thousand times." Putting his hands on her rigid shoulders, he said to her in a calm, firm voice, "Jennifer, listen to me. My men have orders not to attack without a command from me personally." She shuddered as if the word "attack" had been all she heard, and Royce gave her a slight shake. "
Listen
to me," he commanded sharply. "I had men posted in the woods near the road. In a few minutes, I'll know exactly how large a group is approaching. I don't think it's an army unless your father is a greater fool than I think he is. Moreover, he hasn't had time to put out a call-to-arms to your hotheaded Scotsmen and raise a fully equipped army. I think it's merely a group from Merrick, including Lord Hastings, Lord Dugal, and your father. Considering the awkward position I put him in when I snatched you from Merrick, it's natural he'd want to bluster in here and put up a pretence of innocent outrage. Moreover, he'll save a little face if he's able to gain entrance to Claymore even if it takes a flag of truce and an Englishman from the court of the Star Chamber to get him in here."

"And if it is a peaceful group," she cried frantically, "what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to lower the drawbridge and invite them in," he said dryly.

Her fingers bit into the muscles of his upper arms. "Please—don't hurt them—"

"Jennifer—" he said tightly, but she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. "Don't
hurt
them," she cried hysterically. "You gave me your word! I'll do anything you ask of me… anything… but don't hurt them."

Exasperated, Royce moved her away from him and grasped her chin. "Jennifer, the only wound that's going to be inflicted tonight is to my pride. It galls me beyond measure to have to raise my gate, lower the drawbridge, and let your father strut into my hall."

"You didn't care about
his
pride," Jenny argued wildly, "when you breached Merrick's tower and took me from there. How do you think that made
him
feel. Is your own pride so great you can't put it aside, just for a few hours, just this
once
?"

"No."

The single word, spoken with such quiet conviction, finally snapped Jenny from her mindless panic. Drawing a long, steadying breath, she leaned her forehead against his chest and nodded. "I know you won't harm my family. You gave me your word."

"Yes," he said reassuringly, gathering her into his arms for a swift kiss. Turning to the door, he paused with his hand upon the handle. "Stay in here, unless I send for you," he ordered implacably. "I've sent for the friar to bear witness that we're well and truly married, but I imagine the emissaries from our kings will want to see you to ascertain that you're safe and unharmed."

"Very well," she agreed and quickly added, "Father will be in a dreadful mood, but William is gentle and seldom loses his temper. I'd like to see him before they leave—to talk to him and send a message to Brenna. Will you let him come up?"

He nodded. "If it. seems wise, I will."

 

 

Masculine voices raised in anger thundered in the hall, carrying to the
bedchamber, where Jenny paced, waiting, listening, praying. Her father's voice,
blustering and furious, was joined by the angry voices of her brothers, as well as Lord Hastings, and Lord Dugal. Royce's deep voice, hard and authoritative, rose above the din, and then there was silence… eerie, foreboding silence.

Knowing she could observe what was happening if she left the bedchamber and went out onto the gallery, Jenny walked to the door and then hesitated. Royce had given her his oath not to harm any of her family, and all he had asked of her in return was that she remain in here. It seemed wrong not to honor his wish.

Snatching her hand away from the door, Jenny turned away from it, then she hesitated again. She could, however, honor his wish and still be better able to hear by simply opening the door a bit without leaving the bedchamber. Cautiously, she turned the handle, opening the door a scant two inches…

"Friar Gregory has verified that the couple is wed," Lord Hastings, the English emissary from King Henry's court was saying. " 'Twould seem Claymore adhered to the letter of the agreement, if not precisely to the spirit of it, while you, Lord Merrick, by plotting to hide your daughter away from her rightful husband, broke faith with the agreement both in spirit and in fact."

The Scottish emissary mumbled something soothing and conciliatory, but Jennifer's father's voice rose in fury. "You English swine! My daughter
chose
to enter a cloister, she
pleaded
with me to send her away. She was prepard to make the marriage, but 'twas her holy
right
to choose God as her lord if she wished. No king can deny her the right to pledge herself to a life of seclusion and devotion to God, and you know it! Bring her down here," he shouted. "She'll tell you 'twas her own choice!"

His words slashed Jenny's heart like a jagged sword. Evidently, he really had intended to lock her away for the rest of her life, and without ever telling her what he meant to do; he'd been willing to sacrifice her life for revenge against his enemy. When it came down to it, he had more hatred for a stranger than he had love for her.

"Bring her down here! She'll tell you I speak the truth!" her father thundered. "I demand she be brought down! The Barbarian objects because he knows his wife loathes him and that she'll confirm what I say."

Royce's deep voice was filled with such calm conviction that Jenny felt tenderness blend with the pain of her father's betrayal inside of her. "Jennifer has told me the truth, and the truth is that she never collaborated in your scheme. If you have any feeling for her at all, you will not force her to come down here and call you a liar to your face."

"He's the liar!" Malcolm bellowed. "Jennifer will prove it!"

"I regret the need to cause your wife unhappiness," Lord Hastings interrupted, "but both Lord Dugal and I agree the only way to get to the bottom of this is to hear what she herself has to say. No, your grace," he said instantly, "under the circumstances, 'twould be best if Lord Dugal and
I
escort the lady down here—to… er… prevent the claim of coercion by either party. Kindly direct Lord Dugal and me to her chamber…"

Jenny closed the door and slumped against it, laying her cheek against the iron banding, feeling as if she was being torn asunder.

The hall was filled with tension and hostility as she walked forward between her two escorts. Men-at-arms from Merrick, Claymore, and those from King Henry and King James lined the walls. Near the fireplace, Jennifer's father and her brothers stood across from Royce, and all of them were watching her.

"Your grace—" Lord Hastings began, turning to Jennifer, but her father interrupted impatiently. "My dear child," he said, "Tell these idiots that 'twas your

wish
to flee to the solace of a cloister, rather than endure life with this… this
bastard
. Tell them you asked me,
begged
me to let you do it, that you
knew
—"

"I knew
nothing
, "Jenny cried, unable to endure the feigned look of honesty and love on his face. "Nothing!"