Candle in the Window (18 page)

“Oh, indeed?” His grin widened.
“And which way did my father go?”

“To his chamber, brave soul that he
is.” One of the men cackled.

“And has anyone come out?”

“Nay, m’lord, he and the woman probably
wrestled each other into submission.”

The whole group fell about the benches, laughing at
the suggestion, and William shook his head and left them, well
aware their amusement was mixed with awe. Despite Lord
Peter’s age, and he was into his forties, he was a vigorous
man who enjoyed women both in and out of bed. And Maud
had terrified the minions from the day she set foot
in Burke Castle. She was a woman not to be trifled with. The
combination of Lord Peter and Maud seemed likely to change their
establishment in ways they couldn’t imagine.

William’s firm rap at Lord Peter’s
chamber brought only the muffled shout of “Go away!” in
a disgruntled masculine voice.

Ignoring the directive, he flung the door open and
stepped over the threshold. Lord Peter came out of the covers with
a roar that diminished abruptly when he saw their visitor.
“This had better be important, son,” he mumbled in
disbelief.

“I swear to you it is.”

Maud’s head peeked up through the furs on the
bed. “And m’Lady Saura had better be in good
health.”

“Oh, she is.” William moved closer to
the dais, dragging a stool after him. He sat himself astride,
surprised by the bobbing of Maud’s head. “She’s
wonderful. And sleeping very soundly.” He peered at her in
the feeble light of the night candle. What was the matter with the
woman?

Lord Peter sat all the way up, the furs falling
away from his bare chest. He shoved at the pile of clothes on the
bed and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “So what
is it, boy?”

“I need help with Saura. She’s
resisting me. She’s resisting the idea of marriage, and
there’s only one person I have to talk to.”

Both men turned to stare at Maud, her gray braid
set over her shoulder, and she blushed and sank into the
pillows.

God’s gloves! William thought. The woman is
embarrassed. Embarrassed, at her age! How he’d love to poke
fun at her, to torment her a little with his teasing. But in Maud
rested his key to Saura’s consent, and so he tactfully said
the
one thing guaranteed to distract her.
“Saura wants to stay on as my concubine.”

Maud clucked her tongue. “That girl
doesn’t have a bit of sense.” Realizing that sounded
like a compliment, she hastily added, “Not that marrying you
would be so wonderful, but ’tis better than going back to
live with her stepfather.”

His father stroked his chin. “Well, son, are
you sure you want to wed her? After all, there’s no reason to
own the tree if all you want to do is pluck the apples.”

Maud landed a punch in the middle of his chest that
rocked him back into pillows and made him wheeze with
breathlessness. She folded her arms across her chest and a
protective fire flamed in her eyes.

“I was jesting!” he gasped.

William drew two fingers alongside his mouth,
pulling the smile off his face. “Jesting or no, my problem
remains the same. The lady doesn’t wish to marry me, and she
has the strength of character to refuse me at the altar.”

A short silence greeted him, and then Lord Peter
nodded. “Refuse you regardless of the marriage
contract.”

Maud morosely agreed. “Refuse you in front of
a hundred witnesses.”

William sighed. “She must be convinced before
that time. What do I do?”

Maud shook her head. “Manipulating my
mistress is almost impossible. She knows when you lie to her, she
knows when you seek to persuade her to do something good for her
and bad for you.”

William’s fist pounded the bedpost with a
short, powerful rap. “Bad for me? This marriage will be a
blessing on my life. Can’t she be convinced it’s a sign
of God that in her arms I was bequeathed my sight?”

“Aye, God’s sign that she stay with
you. She wants to stay
with you, I’m
sure. But you don’t understand how she feels about her eyes,
about herself. You don’t understand the horrors of living
with Theobald, may God curse his name. From the time she could
toddle, he kicked at her. He used to tease her by holding her
breakfast so she could just smell it, tell her to grab it, and then
he’d move it. And laugh, like he was doing something
clever.”

“What about her mother? What did she
do?”

“My mistress, Lady Eleanor, didn’t
realize when she married him. Not that she had a choice.”
Maud reached out and dragged her shawl from the tangle of her
clothes and wrapped it around her shoulders. Rubbing her arms with
a slow kneading motion, she remembered, “Saura’s father
died so suddenly, like a candle snuffed out, and Lady Eleanor was
big with the child, and ill with a rash and fever. She
couldn’t keep the estates together. The neighbors began to
tear the lands apart immediately. Saura was born, and we
didn’t know there was any problem, the babe was so pretty and
fair. So Theobald offered for Lady Eleanor and he seemed like a
decent man.” She stared back into the past and knit her
fingers together. “We knew right away we’d made a
mistake. He made her put the child out to a wet nurse and got
m’lady pregnant at once.”

“When did you discover Saura couldn’t
see?” William asked.

She hesitated, sad with memories and not sure if
she should share them. The two kind faces turned to her convinced
her, and she told them, “I knew before Lady Eleanor, and long
before Theobald. Saura was so bright. She lifted her head from the
moment she was born and laughed out loud when most babes can only
smile. At first I thought that unfocused look was just the way of
infants. But soon it was obvious to me, and to the wet nurse. When
Saura began to
creep on her stomach and groped
for everything she touched with such amazement, Lady Eleanor knew.
That slut of a wet nurse told Theobald, and he wanted to kill the
babe.”

William sucked in his breath, and Lord Peter
muttered something dark and horrified under his breath.

“If m’lady hadn’t stepped between
them, he’d have broken Saura’s neck. If m’lady
hadn’t been carryin’ his child, he’d have thrown
her aside. As it was, he threatened her if his heir wasn’t
perfect. He raged like any weak man faced with a situation he
couldn’t bend to his contentment. He sent Saura away, to be
raised on her properties, and I went with her. M’lady ordered
it, ordered I train her to run and play in the sunshine like any
child. And I did until her ninth year, when Theobald grew afraid of
the disorder around the country and demanded she come back where he
could keep an eye on her. Afraid someone would abduct her and
demand her properties.”

“Was Lady Eleanor happy to have her
back?” Lord Peter asked.

“Oh, aye. Started right in training her to be
a lady in charge of a household. Didn’t allow for any
excuses, and between the two of us Lady Saura learned everything a
chatelaine needs to know. A good thing, too, for m’lady
produced five healthy boys for Theobald and grew old before her
time. Trained little Saura to care for them, always suspecting
she’d not be there for any of them.”

Alerted by the tone of her voice, William asked,
“How did Lady Eleanor die?”

“I think he kicked her in the belly when she
carried his last babe.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and
Lord Peter put his arm around her. “Another beautiful boy,
stillborn on the wash of his mother’s blood.”

Recalling the pride and affection in Saura’s
face as she
spoke of Lady Eleanor, Lord Peter
asked, “Does Saura know?”

“Of course,” she said flatly.
“We’ve never talked of it, but she knows. I
wouldn’t be surprised but Theobald has bragged about it to
her. He worked her, you know, forced her to run the household and
raise the children, and then condemned her efforts. Never let up on
her. Would have raped her, but for the whole castle who loved her
and interfered for her.”

William leaped to his feet and swore.
“I’ll skewer that whoreson on a spit and roast him over
slow coals.”

“I’ll make the sauce,” Maud
nodded. “And when he’s done to perfection, we’ll
bake him in pastry and toss him in the dung heap.”

They nodded in unison, equally pleased by the
picture in their minds, but Lord Peter interrupted their vindictive
relish. “That’s fine, but unless William weds the woman
Theobald has every right to demand her return.”

“Possession—” William began.

“—is worth nothing if the lady decides
to leave you,” Lord Peter said brutally. “Indeed,
she’ll not get her pennyworth with you as a husband. What
sane woman would seek a protector who awaits his death from a knife
in the back?”

With grim resolve, William sank back down on his
stool. “Have you thought about what I told you this
afternoon?”

“What? That Arthur was a traitor? I agree.
That we need to discover who has masterminded this outrage? I
agree. That you need to sharpen your skills as a knight? On that
point there can be no doubt. The brain, the muscles have atrophied.
That bit of work you did today convinced me of that. Your swordplay
is atrocious, your work with mace and broadax is enough to affright
your destrier into ducking.”

“All right! I’ll practice with the
squires until I can chal
lenge even you, my
father, but that’s the easy part. What of this sly, slinking
cur who seeks to destroy me and mine? Who can it be?”

Maud sighed in exaggerated patience and asked,
“Have ye a bed robe, m’Lord Peter?”

“Of course.” Lord Peter pointed at the
trunk where a warm velvet wrap lay flung. “But you’re
not leaving me? This strategy will take only a moment.”

“Men who talk of war and fighting can stretch
a moment to its greatest length. If Lord William will hand me the
robe, I’ll pour us a cup of wine to sharpen our wits and wet
our tongues.”

“A good woman.” Lord Peter hugged her,
his eyes glowing with amusement and tenderness.

“A sensible woman.” William tossed her
the robe and turned his back as she struggled into it. “But
how could she be less, to have helped raise up such a woman as my
Saura?”

Maud lifted the pitcher of wine left for the night
thirst of the lord. Deliberately she clattered the pewter cup to
signal William he could face them once more, and brought him his
wine with a puckish grimace. “Flattery will win ye no allies
ye haven’t already earned, and expediency buy ye the
rest.”

She flipped her braid behind her as she turned to
serve her lover and returned to the bed with her own goblet in
hand.

“Thank you,” William said gravely.
“Both for the wine and the advice. Both are good and
necessary, and we’re still faced with an unpleasant
discussion of serpents and weaklings.”

“Our choices are limited.” Lord Peter
stared right at William, and their thoughts meshed with identical
links.

“Aye. Arthur was fostered with Charles and
Nicholas.”

“And Raymond of Avraché,” Lord
Peter reminded him.

“Not Raymond. He’s one of the richest
nobles in the land, one of the highest placed.”

“Son, men are not always what they should be.
Raymond was an unhappy boy when he came to us. His parents cared
nothing for him. They were only interested in him as heir, as a
political being who could help advance the Avraché cause.
Sometimes, such an upbringing can never be cured.”

“Do you believe that?”

Lord Peter weighed the facts against his instincts,
and shook his head. “Nay.”

“Raymond is my friend,” William
declared, and for him that ended the discussion. “Let us
check, instead, the other two and how they influenced
Arthur.”

“Nicholas.” Lord Peter massaged his
forehead and then his brow as if the failure of his own fostering
drove a pain into him no wine could cure. “Nicholas is quiet,
deep, with little to say. He never confided in me, not even as a
boy. If there’s rot in him, I’d never know
it.”

“Nor I. Did he influence Arthur?”

“Arthur had no mind of his own, he blew with
the breeze and relished the different currents. Nicholas could have
influenced him, but why? Nicholas’s elder brother held the
title, but he died three years ago, not long after Nicholas
returned to the family holdings. Now Nicholas is lord, and one of
the wealthy men of Suth Sexena.”

“We have left only Charles.”

“Charles.” Lord Peter took a swig of
his wine and lay back against the pillows.

“What of Charles,” Maud interposed
sharply, “that you two should look so thoughtful when you
mention his name? Is he not lord to some powerful
estate?”

“He’s lord,” William agreed.
“But the estate is not powerful.”

“When Charles came to his inheritance, the
fine castles he should have received had dwindled to a mere one.
Only one
estate, and ’tis ridden with
debt and dishonesty. His father was ever a wastrel, letting the
fortifications decay while he followed old King Henry around the
courts. Charles is not much better, bragging about his prowess and
afraid to joust for fear of losing his horse and armor. And with
this wicked disorder that governs us, I fear….”

“Aye, and I.” William massaged his
forehead and eye in such natural imitation of his father Maud
chuckled as she carried the pitcher to refill their cups. “If
’tis Charles, how can we trap him before he does us
harm?”

“Invite him to the wedding,” Lord Peter
answered promptly. “In such a festive setting, he’s
bound to betray his intentions. We’ll watch him like a hawk,
keep witnesses nearby.”

William rubbed his hands in glee. “What a
marvelous persuasion for Saura. Surely she’ll wed me if her
consent frees me from such a threat.”

“I wouldn’t depend on that,” Maud
said.

“Well, ’tis the best idea we’ve
uncovered yet,” William retorted, rising from his stool and
thumping his cup on its wooden seat.