Candle in the Window (23 page)

Something in his voice alerted Saura. “Your
wife? Is she really?”

He laughed, briefly and with irony.
“You’ve guessed, haven’t you?”

“’Tis my magic powers,” she
retorted. “That, and your frustration.”

“Is it so obvious? That she’s not yet
my wife?”

“Only to me. I know you so well. How do you
handle it?”

He stood and paced across the floor and back.
“It isn’t a problem, normally. I’ve not yet been
knighted, and I’ll live with Lord Jennings until I’ve
completed my training. Alice lives at my main holding of Penbridge
and learns what she should have learned from her mother. When
I’m home, we sleep in separate rooms. The only problem comes
when….”

“When what, dear boy?”

“When we must visit and the hostess
thoughtfully beds us together.”

“And?”

“Alice likes it very much. She says I’m
warmer and more comfortable than her dolls.”

He sounded so desolate, she couldn’t help it,
she burst into laughter. “Oh, poor Rollo. Poor, poor
Rollo.”

He pulled her braid in disgust and stomped over to
the table, snatching a wedge of bread and stuffing it into his
mouth.

“That merriment’s a pleasant
sound,” Dudley called from the doorway.

“Aye, and it makes me want to strangle
her.” Rollo stared at his chortling sister with unbrotherly
irritation.

“I wonder if her laughter has the same effect
on William?”

Her brothers contemplated that in silence, until
Saura choked, “Not yet.”

“Hmm.” John sounded thoughtful, and
then perturbed. “Couldn’t you have kept that pig out of
the food until we got here?”

“Nay, ’twas beyond me,” Saura
said, and went into an
other gale of laughter.
“Many thanks to you, Rollo. I’ve sorely missed your
humor and sorely needed a joke.”

Over her head, her brothers exchanged a long look
and Dudley began to juggle two pasties with a casual skill.
“I’m juggling your meat pies,” he warned.

“Well, stop it!” she said sobering.
“You’ll drop them on the floor.”

“First, tell me why you needed a
joke.”

“Dudley, the rushes were fresh last
week!”

“The dogs are drooling.”

“Better tell him, sister,” John
suggested. “The meat’s coming out.”

She snapped, “I can afford to lose some
pies.”

“I’ll juggle drumsticks
next.”

“Beast! Stop! My whole life’s changed
and I’m to be married and the groom is more than I’d
ever hoped or dreamed or deserved. Surely I have the right to some
tension!”

The juggling slowed and stopped.

“And you’ll never be a good monk with
such dreadful habits of blackmail.”

“On the contrary.” Dudley stuffed one
pasty in his mouth and flipped the other to Bula. “Used
judiciously, it forces confessions from stubborn women who would
otherwise never say a word.”

“You’re satisfied with little,”
she commented.

“I listen with my heart,” he
answered.

Unease touched her, but she was distracted by the
pounding of feet up the outside stair. She rose as the boys tumbled
into the room. “I’ll tell her,” Kimball
shouted.

Clare shouted back, “Your father told
me
to tell her.”

“I’ll not listen to either of you if
you don’t know a more mannerly way to enter a
room.”

Clare stumbled, clumsy perhaps, or Kimball shoved
him,
she could not tell, and she ordered,
“Stand right here in front of me, both of you.”

“You’re in trouble,” John
crooned, “when she gets that tone in her voice.”

“She can still make me tremble,” Dudley
agreed.

“That’s enough,” she told them,
and then to the boys she said, “All right. Lord William sent
me a message. To whom did he give it?”

“Me!” Clare said fiercely.

“I’m older!” Kimball
complained.

“And capable of more responsibility,”
she agreed. “So we must teach Clare that same responsibility,
and this is how we do it.” Kimball said nothing, and she
smoothed his hair on the back of his head. “Isn’t that
right?”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Spoken like a true knight,” she
praised. “Now, Clare, what is the message?”

“Lord William thought you’d like to be
alerted,” the boy said. “Sir Charles and his party have
arrived in the bailey and there’s more dust in the distance.
The guests are arriving early.”

“Oh, my.” Saura sank back down on her
bench. “Three days early. Praise God I’ve done so much
of the preparations in advance. But nothing can cure a cold meal on
the table, and the beds not ready.”

In her mind, the truth brought a shiver. The danger
crept closer as the guests flocked to the castle. Who now would
keep William safe from danger?

Looking up from his appraisal of the
young stallion, William noticed the young men observing him. They
stood in a row outside the stall: Rollo and Dudley on the ends,
John and Clare holding Blaise’s hand in the middle. The
golden afternoon sun touched their fair complexions with color and
lit their solemn expressions for his study. Even Blaise, all
unknowing of their mission, stared at him with unblinking
intensity.

Loosed of his rigid restraint, the destrier reared
and bucked. William vaulted to the top of the gate and said,
“I’ll come out, shall I?” Lowering his feet to
the ground, he motioned to the boys to follow him. In the
hay-strewn corner beside the stack, he pulled benches into a
semicircle and waved them to their seats. They sat two to a bench
and William willingly took a stool in the middle. Blaise rolled on
the floor in the straw between them.

Resting his great hands one on each knee, William
peered
directly at each brother in turn.
“You wished to speak to me?”

Given permission, they exchanged glances and Rollo
agreed. “About several things, my lord. The first, and
perhaps the most important, is the tale John brings us.”

William transferred his attention, and John
straightened beneath the weight of so many sober eyes. “I
don’t want you to think I’m trying to increase my own
importance by repeating tales, but this is such a fantastic story,
I feel I must warn you. I’m fostered with Sir Hutton of Gent.
Not a rich landholder, and unable to provide well for the knights
he hires.” His background given, he took a deep breath; the
news he brought rested heavy on his shoulders. “One of those
knights left Gent eight days ago to seek his fortune in London and
arrived back in only four days.”

“He rode like the wind,” William
commented.

“Aye, for he brought great news. Eustace is
dead.”

“Eustace?” William puzzled briefly, and
then straightened his spine with a snap. “King
Stephen’s son?”

John nodded. “His heir and eldest son. Is
this God’s judgment on King Stephen for usurping the throne
of England?”

“Perhaps. If ’tis true. Such tales are
too often rumors that seep from place to place by unseen
channels.”

John assured him, “The man is honorable, my
lord, and saw enough to convince him.”

Sadly, William shook his head. “Stephen has
another son, and Matilda’s son Henry presses claim—with
more right, some believe, than any of Stephen’s spawn. What a
dreadful maelstrom we find ourselves in! Thank you for alerting me.
Had a guest brought the news, I might not have been able to guide
the conversation with any intelligence. God knows, with such an
occurrence, there’ll be fighting among the landholders, the
knights, the women.”

The boys nodded in unison, even Blaise, who watched
them with great wondering eyes. William laughed at the serious
imitation on the little boy’s face, and ruffled his hair.
“But that’s not why you came to me. What else preys on
your minds?”

Again that brief exchange of glances, and again
John was elected to speak. “When our father sent word Saura
was to be married, we each took the fastest road to Pertrade and
found him wringing his hands and mourning the loss of her lands,
but we could gather no more information from that
pitiful—” He pulled up short. “We don’t
know yet why you wish to marry her.”

A small smile touched William’s mouth.
“Is it so strange I should wish to wed a beautiful young
woman?”

“Who is blind.”

“Damn it!” William had heard that one
too many times. “Is that so important?”

Astonished, then pleased, the brothers shifted and
settled themselves, now comfortable with his attitude. “Not
at all,” John said. “But she’s more vulnerable
than other women. Are you prepared to protect her?”

William’s face lost all expression, and his
eyes glittered with an intense concentration. “What have you
heard?” he asked softly.

“Naught, but she’s a woman who needs
more than the usual protection. We just—” John stopped
short. “Wait. What should we have heard?”

“It’s their kidnapping,” Clare
blurted. All his brothers stared at him. He reddened, and then
cringed as William cleared his throat noisily.

“They were kidnapped?” Rollo said with
heavy forbearance.

Clare nodded, glancing at William and then at his
eldest brother.

“Tell us about it, Clare, lad,” Rollo
instructed.

William watched Clare steadily, waiting for the boy
to decide where his loyalties lay: with his brothers or with the
knight who fostered him. At last Clare said to Rollo, “If my
Lord William believes you should be informed, he will do so.”
Then he dropped his head, embarrassed and not at all sure
he’d made the right choice.

Rollo patted his hand and John hugged him around
the shoulders. William watched them and decided the duty that
required him to love his wife’s brothers could stretch to
hold respect and liking. “There’s more to the story
than Clare could tell you, and I’d be glad of your helpful
surveillance.” With an efficient lack of detail, he filled
them in on the accident that had blinded him, the kidnapping, the
continued threat from a mysterious source. They listened
incredulously, saying nothing until he concluded, “I’ll
not tell you who my primary suspects are. I fear to direct your
attention. Watch them all.”

“Well!” Rollo exploded. “An
incredible tale.”

“Do you still approve of my plan to marry
your sister?”

To William’s surprise, the brothers laughed
with various degrees of irony and amazement. “Oh,
there’s no question about our approval. What good would it do
if we disapproved? Saura’s made up her mind to have you, and
have you she will. She’d never thank us for our
interference.”

“Then why doesn’t she want to
wed?” William demanded.

Rollo asked sharply, “Why do you say so, my
lord?”

“Oh, she’ll do it, but with reluctance.
She’d rather live in the shadows, accepting bits of my
attention and depending upon my goodwill.” His bitterness
rang out, and one by one the brothers dropped their gazes from his.
William deduced
more from their lack of
response than they desired. “So you know why. Explain this
puzzle to me, please, for I ache with the blow to my…my
pride.”

The boys looked to Dudley, expecting him to speak
for them. “That’s her legacy from my father,” he
said gently.

“How can you say that?” William asked.
“He gave her nothing.”

“Like the evil fairy at the christening, my
father gifted us all with something vile.”

William stared at them. They no longer sat with
negligent grace, but shifted as if the benches had developed
splinters. Dudley explained, “We are men, unscarred,
outwardly perfect. But inside ourselves, Theobald has affected
us.” Dudley touched the simple crucifix that hung around his
neck, the first sign of nervousness William had seen him make.
“John will not drink wine, in any amount. He fears the
monster who dwells inside every man and waits for a lack of control
to pounce. Rollo would never beat his wife, no matter how richly
she deserved it. He abhors cruelty to women. I, well, I thank God
my vocation frees me from the complexities of family, for I bear a
great fear of hurting someone with word or deed.”

“What about me?” Clare asked with
innocent trust.

Dudley smiled at him. “You’re
perfect.” Clare still stared up at him, waiting, and he said,
“Sometimes I think you’re just the slightest bit
timid.”

With the sudden appearance of a summer storm,
Clare’s eyes filled with tears.

“In sooth, you think he’s timid?”
William remarked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The boy’s smile appeared as suddenly as his
tears, and Dudley winked at William.

“I understand,” William said soberly.
“Must this little one carry a scar, also?”

Blaise piped up in clear tones, “I have a
scab on my knee and one on each elbow, but Mama says they
won’t scar.”

William stared, astonished.

John chuckled. “Is that the first time
you’ve heard him speak?”

“Aye.” His gaze roved over the
brothers, stiff with pride and amusement. “Does he understand
all?”

“And says little,” John agreed.
“But when he talks, he’ll be our diplomat, he will. Our
father’s afraid of him, our little stepmother protects him.
She’s worthless as a chatelaine, but fiercely protective as a
mother.”

Rubbing his hands across his eyes, William said,
“Tell me then, what is Saura’s scar?”

“A feeling of unworthiness.”

Remembering the stories Maud had told of
Theobald’s abuse, William understood. “But I am no
great prize.”

“False modesty, my lord. You’re very
rich, the sole heir of a great family. You are the greatest warrior
in England, and much admired.”

“I’ve got a roaring temper, I’m
rough and uncultured, I’m not interested in politics or life
in the court. I sit before a warm fire in the winter and ride the
woods in the summer. I like to fight and rut and eat. Do I seem
like a great marriage prize?”

“You seem like a simple man.”

William shrugged in disclaimer. “Just a man,
and one who can hardly believe that Saura struggles with the demons
in her depths. She is the most restful woman I know.”

“Except when she makes you long to murder
her,” Rollo complained.

“There’s that,” William agreed.
“Stubborn, outspoken.”

“Determined, intelligent.” John
continued.

“Bossy.” Clare put a wealth of disgust
in that one word, and everyone laughed.

Dudley folded his hands on his lap and said
rapidly, “This does bring up the one subject it’s my
sworn duty to discuss with you.”

As if raised by a spring, Rollo bounded up and
dusted his seat. “Time to leave!”

John rose in agreement. “Past time. It has
been a pleasure, my lord.”

William watched, amazed, as the two brothers fled
toward the open door.

“Cowards, come back and sit down,”
Dudley called. The men stopped at the entrance, pulled by the
authority in his voice but reluctant to return. “You know
this should be said. You’d be ashamed if ill fell from your
reluctance to interfere between man and wife. Lord William will
forgive us our intrusion, and mark it down to brotherly
concern.”

Moving with a creaking reluctance, they dragged
themselves back. John seated himself on the corner of the bench and
Rollo stood behind, shifting from one foot to the other. Clare
stared at his brothers, wondering about their uneasiness, and
Blaise tasted a handful of dirt and chewed with obvious
enjoyment.

“That’s no good for you, my lad. Stand
up.”

Blaise stood, and William looked him up and down.
“How old are you?”

“I have four years, sir,” the boy
answered promptly.

“Why do you eat dirt?”

“Because it tastes good.”

William didn’t laugh, a restraint he was
pleased with. “Any lad who is old enough to learn to ride a
horse is too old to eat dirt.”

“Ride a horse?” Blaise lit up, and then
asked suspiciously, “Who will teach me?”

“I will,” William leaned down so his
gaze and the boy’s met, “and I never break my
promise.”

Blaise thought about it. “As you wish, sir,
I’ll not eat any more dirt. And I never break my promise,
either.” He wiped his black-rimmed mouth and sat down at
William’s feet, his arms crossed.

William brushed the boy’s black bangs off his
forehead. “His hair’s too long.”

“He’s a demon when faced with the
shears,” John excused.

“I’ll take care of it.” William
sifted a handful of straw over Blaise, and the boy grabbed it and
tossed it back. “Now, what bothers you, Dudley?”

The young monk refolded his hands, arranging his
fingers with fussy precision, and cleared his throat. “Mother
Church teaches us many things about women. They’re the
descendants of Eve, temptresses all, and for their sin they are
subservient to their fathers and then their husbands. They’re
frivolous and light-minded, and ’tis a husband’s duty
to discipline his wife. A wife who’s undisciplined is a wife
who rules the home, to the detriment of all. Women shouldn’t
be beaten too vigorously, nor with a cane any bigger than the width
of a man’s thumb.” Dudley held up his thumb as
illustration, then shifted his gaze from William to his hand and
held it there. “Our sister Saura is at times a difficult
woman. As we’ve commented, she is determined and outspoken.
She’s honest to a fault and, worst of all, she’s
intelligent.”

“I have noticed,” William said, heavy
with sarcasm.

“Still, she’s our sister, and we love
her. When our father would strike her, she could not dodge or run
and ’twas al
ways a nasty blow. It seems
an act of cowardice to strike someone who cannot see.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Rollo
interrupted impatiently, “is that if you beat Saura,
you’ll have to answer to us.”

William stopped sprinkling hay over Blaise’s
head and examined them all. “Because she has no father to
advise me, you lads take it on yourselves to do so?”

“Aye, sir.” John stared at him, a
worried frown wrinkling his brow. “That is, nay, sir. Not to
advise you, but to explain that in the absence of a father’s
defense, Saura has her brothers to stand behind her.”

“You’re good men,” William said,
and the brothers relaxed. “Let me reassure you. I seldom even
strike my servants. They must display a consistent cruelty to merit
such attention, and even then, ’twill not cure an evil
temperament.” He thought of Hawisa, still stirring up trouble
in the kitchen, and sighed. “’Tis a weak man who must
resort to physical discipline. ’Tis necessary your servants
respect you for what you do and not just what you are. And I never
beat my women, regardless of how much they deserve it.”

The boys grinned and stood, shuffling their
feet.