Candle in the Window (2 page)

“King Stephen won’t yield the throne on
Henry’s behest.”

“Nay, but these years of struggle have aged
Stephen. The man can’t live forever,” he said, but he
was hopeful, not convinced.

“What’s going to happen to our poor
England?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He sighed.
“I don’t know. Nineteen years ago, it all seemed so
clear. Queen Matilda was good King Henry’s only surviving
child, and he made the barons swear
to uphold
her claim on the throne. But she is a woman, and a haughty woman at
that.”

“That’s a bitter dose for haughty men
to swallow,” Saura answered with humor.

“You show a formidable insight.” His
humor acknowledged hers. “When Henry died—the present
Henry’s grandfather—Stephen claimed the throne in
London, and England hailed him. He seemed to be the perfect
solution. He was the grandchild of William the Conqueror, just as
Matilda was. He was charming, generous, and brave. The barons
thought Stephen would bring prosperity. We soon found out that
charm, generosity, and bravery are poor substitutes for the
unscrupulous sternness needed by a monarch.”

“I can’t even remember a time of
prosperity,” Saura said. “I was born the year good King
Henry died.”

“Aye, a whole generation of children have
grown up with strife. There’s been no law, and the powerful
terrorize those they should protect. The memory of these last years
chills my blood.”

“I understand. My own lands, the lands my
father left me, are slowly being eaten away by the ‘kind
neighbors’ seeking to care for them.”

“Doesn’t Lord Theobald
fight?”

Saura’s mouth lifted in a sneer, all the more
effective for being natural, unseen by her on any other human.
“It is too cold for Lord Theobald to go out.”

“I see.”

“Forgive me for my petty interruption. My
hunger for news dissolves my manners and my sincere interest in
your son’s tale.”

“Do not apologize. Your interest in the
country’s welfare has given me a moment to steady myself. I
still can’t talk about William, you see, without a pain in my
heart. It makes
me so angry, for he was injured
for nothing. Nothing!” He turned his head back and forth,
seeking to dispel the tension that knotted his neck. “We had
a battle with a neighbor, a modest skirmish. The most minor of
fights.”

“Your son was hurt?”

“God, yes. Bashed in the back of the head.
His mail hood left bloody imprints on his neck, his basinet helmet
crumpled. We had to cut him out. It would have killed a lesser man,
but not my Will. He lay like a stone for two days, and we were
scared, Kimball and I.” Lord Peter shrugged his shoulders,
uncomfortable with the unaccustomed sensation of fear,
uncomfortable with the volatile emotion of love. “Well,
he’s my only surviving son, and Kimball’s father. And
there he sprawled, white and still and barely breathing, like a
great oak knocked to the ground. He woke up, though. Just came
roaring up, demanding breakfast and demanding that we light the
damn torches. With the fire flickering on the hearth and the
daylight streaming through the slits in the walls.”

Saura bent her head in thought. “How long
ago?”

“Two months.”

“He has his health, my lord?” she
queried, tender with his grief.

“Healthy as a horse. Well, he does have pain
in his head. But what good is his health? He’s too old to
adjust gracefully. He’s damn near twenty-seven years old. He
earned the colée when he was fifteen, knighted for bravery in
the field of battle. He’s overseen the management of his
mother’s lands all these damn dark years since old King
Henry’s death. He’s a big man, by God, he has legs like
tree trunks and shoulders that bulge with muscle. He’s a
fighter and a man of action, but now he won’t go outside,
he’s ashamed to have the folk
see him and
afraid of making a fool of himself. He won’t do anything
inside.”

“Because he’s afraid of making a fool
of himself?” Saura understood, her insides clutching as she
recalled moments of being a fool, moments filled with the sound of
careless laughter at her own pain.

“Exactly. And because he wants to be outside.
He won’t accept help, he won’t help himself; he just
sits and broods and drinks.”

“He’s pitying himself.” Maud
snorted.

“He’s tangled in it.” Saura
nodded, touched by the real torment in Lord Peter’s voice,
the gruff call for help. “There’s only one thing to
cure it, my lord, and that’s a swift, brutal kick in the
seat.”

“I can’t! I’m crippled too,
crippled by my love for the boy.” Responding to the sway of
the women’s bodies as they bent protectively to him, he
stuttered with awkward emotion. “I know you not, barring the
little I have seen tonight, but I can see, Lady Saura, that
you’re a good woman caught in a bad situation. Your
stepfather leers at you, and he’s a weak man.”

“Ye decided that quickly enough,” Maud
said.

“I’m a warrior. There are times when my
life depends on my judgment of character and circumstances.”
He stared at Maud, and Maud stared back at him and nodded. “I
can help you, and what I’m going to suggest will assuage all
of our discords. I admire you. I admire the way you handle
yourself, your life. I admire your spirit. I would like you to come
and live with me.”

A growl from Maud interrupted him and he held up
his hand. “Peace, old woman. I don’t want her for any
dastardly reason. Just to live at my castle for a while. She could
help
me with William, tell me how to help him,
perhaps she could help him herself.”

“And if this William of yours refused her
help, ye old fool, then where would we be?” Maud blazed.
“That slimy whoreson downstairs would never let us
return.”

“Which would be worse?” Saura twisted
her mouth with disdain. “Starving to death in the wilderness
or living beneath Theobald’s roof?”

Lord Peter stroked his chin. They raised a
legitimate complaint. If Saura left her home of her own free will
and William would have none of her, what would they do with her? A
stray bit of humor brightened his face.

“I could take Maud as my mistress and refuse
to part with her.”

Maud snorted.

“Does she always express herself so
disdainfully?” Lord Peter asked Saura, touching her hand with
an indulgent finger.

“Always. It’s the way she gives her
opinion of the world.” Saura smiled into his face, an amused
and thoughtful smile. “But I expect you would be good for
Maud. She’s not nearly as old and tough as she would have you
believe.”

“I thought your lady wife would have your
gizzard on a platter,” Maud snapped.

“For dealings with a young woman. And Lady
Saura is too young. My wife painted quite a vivid picture of an old
goat like me with a girl. But were she alive today, rest her soul,
she would approve of you, Maud. Believe me, you and she are two of
a kind.”

Glaring at the man, Maud was jolted into awareness
of the warrior before her. His skin was mottled from too much sun
and scarred by too many battles, but his fighter’s build was
attractive. His thinning hair shone with health and his
brown eyes twinkled. He had most of his teeth, and he
used them all when he smiled knowingly at her.

“I am a widower. So is my son, and his son is
not yet married. Kimball is only eight. What we have is a bachelor
household, and a dingy mess it is. Perhaps if you’re not
happy here, you could be prevailed upon to come to Burke Castle as
a housekeeper.”

“Housekeeper?” Saura exclaimed.

He slapped his knee enthusiastically. “Aye,
that’s it! Because I fear William will refuse to accept help
from you. You’re blind, and he doesn’t want to be
taught by someone sharing his experience, doesn’t want to
acknowledge his own plight. I’ve suggested it before. And
you’re too young, and a woman.”

“I can’t hide the fact I am a
woman,” Saura said, “but there’s no need to tell
him my age.”

“Not tell him? I’ve never deceived
him,” he answered, troubled.

“But it’s necessary?”

“Aye,” he agreed slowly. “Aye,
it’s necessary. We’ll not tell him you can teach him,
at least not at first. First, we will let you prove what a
magnificent housekeeper you are. You could get that damned castle
cleaned and the kitchen in better shape. If we didn’t tell
him you are blind, he would never know, how could he? After you had
been there a sufficient time and he was accustomed to you, we could
tell him you are a dedicated teacher of the blind, a woman of,
perhaps, forty, who has handled many students and taught them
everything. He respects age and efficiency. Damn! I believe that is
it!”

“What does my mistress get out of this, ye
old fool? A passel of hard work, all for a man she has never
met,” Maud said.

Lord Peter shifted, abruptly uncomfortable with the
slope of the trunk. “In my household, women who dwell therein
are treated with respect and not beat all out of reason or
imprisoned for a peccadillo. Lord Theobald has a new wife, one who
will some day be well enough versed to take over the housekeeping,
whether any of you wish for it. And Theobald has no fondness for
you. It is too easy to die by disease or accident. Have you given
any thought to that?”

Giving Lord Peter his first glimpse of the mettle
beneath her quiet exterior, Saura impatiently slapped her hands
together. “I’m not such an idiot that I never thought
how a trip down the stone stairs would affect me. But I do have my
own meager salvation. My half brothers were all trained by my
mother to protect me, and they have done so vigilantly.”

Maud’s mouth turned down; she stared at
Saura. “Aye, m’lady, but John has been sent for
fostering, and Clare is seven and not much help.”

“Rollo—” Saura began.

“Rollo is your stepfather’s heir, and a
good man who cares for ye, but he’s just married and in
training for his knighthood. He manages your mother’s lands.
He is so busy that something could happen to ye and it would be a
month before he knew. Or longer. He avoids Lord Theobald at all
costs. And Dudley studies for the Church. After Clare there is only
Blaise, and he’s four. He’s attached to your new
stepmother, and your dear mother’s teachings are no good to
him.”

“Make your point, Maud,” Saura murmured
drily.

“M’lady, don’t ye realize? Your
brothers aren’t…ye’re teasing me,” Maud
accused.

“You do twist the knife a bit, my dear.
We’ve refused to discuss my imminent demise for a reason.
There were no choices. Now Lord Peter offers me an alternative to
this
wretched existence and my unreasoning
reaction is to snatch it with both hands. Do you know how long it
has been since I was beyond the boundary of this little castle? The
seasons pass and I languish here, paying with the money from my
lands for the privilege of keeping house for a drunken sot. Still,
I wonder if you can convince my stepfather.”

“Aye,” Maud agreed. “Theobald
will not let her go, just for spite.”

“Let me talk to your stepfather.” Lord
Peter grinned in anticipation. “I’m a rich man, a
powerful man. He’ll pay heed to me one way or another. If he
fails to see that having a connection in my household would add to
his consequence, perhaps the threat of a summer siege would move
him to sense.”

Maud laughed out loud. “That’ll make
the sorry lout see reason.”

“I wish I could hear it,” Saura said.
“Well, if you can convince Theobald, and if sober,
conservative Maud thinks I should go, then go I will.”

Maud answered with a glimmer of humor. “Ah,
m’lady, I never planned to go haring off with this gentle
lord without references. I shall check Lord Peter’s
reputation with his servants.”

Saura reached out and caught Maud, sliding her hand
down the arm to Maud’s hand. Lord Peter watched the grace
with which Saura lifted the old maid’s gnarled hand and
kissed it fondly.

That was what he wanted for his son. That ease of
movement, the ability to judge the limitations and adjust. She had
to come. She had to. William was desperate and dirty and lost. He
needed direction, and this accomplished girl was the one to guide
him. Lord Peter decided to rush the defences. “I’ll
give you my wife’s apartment—a private chamber with a
huge hearth. We keep fires burning day and
night. Burke is close to the coast, and I have many ells of
material from France we bought for William’s late wife, Anne.
You’d be welcome to them.”

“Bribery isn’t necessary, Lord
Peter.”

“We’ll want to take Alden, too, Lord
Peter,” Maud interrupted firmly. “He’s Lady
Saura’s man and her mother’s before her.”

“As you wish.” Lord Peter nodded at his
ally. “My home is three days’ ride from here, and the
snow is deep, but I would gladly buy a cart.”

Saura winced. “I can ride, sir, on a leading
rein, and I assure you I prefer the motion of a horse to the hard
bumpings of a cart.”

“I go to arrange both at once.” Lord
Peter rose hastily.

“Wait!” Saura commanded, holding out
her hand. “The snow is deep.”

“Dress warmly and pack all your clothes, Lady
Saura. As soon as the storm weakens I must go. Burke is my primary
keep, stronger than the others, but even so I worry about William,
alone and in the dark. He’s helpless in a way you cannot
imagine, still endowed with strength and determination but unable
to find a way to proceed.”

“Do you want me to pity him, my
lord?”

“Yes, pity him. He has always been clear and
direct, full of hearty laughter and great rages. Now his rages are
unrelenting and self-directed and his laughter has disappeared.
Please, Lady Saura,” Lord Peter took her hand in his
trembling grasp, rubbing his calloused fingers across her chilled
skin. “Please come. I know my William is there somewhere,
buried beneath the mountain of anger and disgust. My son is still
there, but only lost. Please help me find him.”