Candle in the Window (24 page)

“If there’s any assistance we can
render to prepare for this celebration, my lord? Preparing the
games or the stables?” Rollo sounded anxious. “If we
stay within the keep, Saura will have us doing women’s
work.”

“My thanks. I can keep you busy with the
preparations for the boar hunt two days hence, and for the
mêlée
on the eve before the
wedding. Indeed, your work outside would free me to watch over
Saura in the keep. When a man gets old, as I am, he’d rather
stay within and help with the woman’s work than pitch manure
outside.”

“Oh, ho!” John disagreed. “You
wish to keep an eye on the guests, more likely.”

“Aye,” William sighed. “This
rumor of Eustace’s death worries me, I cannot lie. What will
happen to my poor England now?”

“The way I see it, things will either get
better or they will get worse.” Charles waved his tankard
with drunken emphasis, and stared with innocent surprise at the
spreading stain of ale on the cloth.

Outside, the bright summer sun stood high in the
sky and warmed the servitors as they finished the preparations for
the mêlée, but in the great hall men squabbled and Lord
Peter looked grim and forbidding. “If the rumors are correct,
and Stephen no longer has a trained heir, by God, who will rule
England on Stephen’s death? These last black years of
disorder will be a mere pittance compared to the horror of England
without a king.”

“There’s Henry, Queen Matilda’s
son, who demands the throne, and if he doesn’t get it,
there’ll be two armies marching over our lands again.”
Nicholas swore with delicate precision. “When my churls have
to spend their time rebuilding their burned-out huts and the
harvest is trampled by the horses, my accounts fall on evil
days.”

“All you ever care about is the money,”
Charles sneered. “Like a damn merchant.”

Nicholas rose, his face flushed by the insult.
“’Tis better than you! Drunk before the noon meal, and
you with not a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out
of.”

The guests in the great hall, two hundred strong,
broke out in a babble of conflicting optimism and pessimism.
William stood and pounded on the table with his fist.
“Quiet!” he roared. He wished, with all his heart, this
tale of Eustace and
Henry hadn’t come on
the heels of his wedding announcement. The gentry gathered in his
hall had marveled at the tidings that Lord William of Miraval would
marry, and prepared with all haste to attend. Then the rumor of
death and confusion swept the country, and their haste had turned
into a flurry. Before the consequences of Stephen’s heirless
state could take effect, they galloped to Burke to exchange gossip
and opinion. They brought their outriders to protect them on the
road, they brought their servants, and they all came early to feast
and sleep and argue.

The noise slowly faded under William’s
towering authority, but the sibilant whispers couldn’t be
completely hushed. “Speculation will avail us nothing. Less
than one hundred years ago, William the Conqueror vanquished this
island and divided it among his followers, and this bastion will
not fall.”

“Well spoken.” From the stairwell came
the cheerful voice of a travel-stained lord. “I come from
London this day, riding at all speed to attend your wedding, and I
leave great happenings behind.”

“Raymond!” William leaped over the
bench and strode to his friend. Embracing him, he murmured,
“I’ve been worrying.”

“All is well,” Raymond murmured back,
and then raised his voice. “All’s well, and better than
it has been these last years of darkness. Stephen will acknowledge
Henry as the future king of England.”

Frozen with surprise, not a servant moved, not a
lord breathed. Total silence descended at last.

“The Angevin pup?” Lord Peter lowered
his goblet from his lips. “Have you seen him?”

“Aye, and a grand man he is, too.”
Raymond strode in. His spurs jingled, his mud-spattered squire
limped at his
heels, and an excitement lit his
cool eyes. “He’s everything Stephen is not: decisive,
energetic, vigorous. He’s an easy man to talk to, but one
never presumes on his geniality, for an air of majesty surrounds
him like a cloak.” Raymond’s voice rang with
conviction, his hands waved with fervor. “The clerks and the
priests are working out the terms of his succession right now.
Stephen speaks of adopting Henry as his heir.”

“His heir?” Lord Peter said. “Is
Eustace really dead, then?”

“Quite dead. He left court in a pique. He
realized his father would be forced to give up the throne to Henry,
and it didn’t sit well with him. They say Eustace plundered
Bury St. Edmunds Abbey in the morning, sat at noon for his meal,
and choked on a dish of eels.”

William meditated on the news with grim intentness.
“A fitting end to the impious Eustace
and
the eels.”

“Stephen has another son. What about
him?” Lord Peter asked.

“His other son will be satisfied with the
lands his father ruled before he became king of England, and
Stephen saves face with this adoption. He says Henry’s
succeeding him by designation. I say Henry’s succeeding him
through his mother, the rightful queen of England. He’s
collecting his birthright.”

“What terms are they discussing?” Lord
Peter asked.

“That’s the sting. Henry will not
recognize the lands Stephen granted his followers, for Henry
considers Stephen a usurper.” There was a gasp in the room,
and Raymond’s gaze swept them all, bright and amused.
“Oh, yes, good people. There will be changes in
England.”

William watched him and judged him to be drunk with
the narcotic of power. “Bring Lord Raymond a cup of ale to
quench his thirst and escort him to the head table where,”
he glanced and smiled, “where my lady has
already ordered a place set. Can you eat and talk at the same time,
Raymond?”

“I can’t bring my dirt to table.”
Raymond laughed. “I carry half of England on my
boots.”

Saura came forward from where she stood.
“I’ve ordered warm water taken to the solar, and there
you can wash with all speed and return to these waiting
ears.”

With a nod of acceptance, Raymond followed her as
she led him to her room. Every eye in the hall followed them, eager
for the tales of monarchy from one who knew the truth.

Saura waved at the steaming bowls, the handmaidens
and towels, and apologized, “Forgive me if I don’t help
you bathe, my lord, but I’m needed in the hall. I leave you
my competent maid, and if you desire anything, please command
her.”

“Wait.” Raymond stepped up to her and
tilted her chin up. “So you’re Lady Saura. We
haven’t officially met.”

A tiny smile tilted her mouth. “Aye,
I’d forgotten. Events have rushed at me with such scrambled
speed I neglect the courtesies.”

“You’re beautiful,” Raymond
breathed. “I hadn’t expected that.”

“Beautiful?” She froze with a kind of
horror. Beautiful. She didn’t want to hear
“beautiful.” Just last night as she hurried across the
bailey from the kitchen, she’d thought she heard a hoarse
voice call her beautiful. She’d thought she’d heard
footsteps beside her, just out of reach. She’d thought a
menace stalked her, but when she turned to confront it, nothing was
there.

“You
are
beautiful,” Raymond said again, bringing her back from her
imaginings.

“And you’re tired,” Saura
answered. “For the controlled
and quiet
Lord Raymond has loosened the bonds of his restraint.” She
pushed his hand away from her chin, and both his hands immediately
fastened on her shoulders, halting her before she could step
away.

“I told Lord Peter about you.”

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.
“When?”

“All those moons ago, when William had been
blinded and needed someone to help him, I told Lord Peter about
Saura of Roget.”

She searched her mind. “Had you been a
visitor at Pertrade?”

“Nay.” His hands kneaded her shoulders
and she thought he smiled. “But I’d heard stories from
a knight who had. Fantastic stories about the beautiful blind girl
who knew everything, who walked without help and kept house for her
miserly stepfather. When Lord Peter was desperate, I passed the
stories on. I am responsible for your marriage.”

“Oh, so you’re the man to blame.”
She ignored the stroking fingers and put frost into her voice.
“Why didn’t you address me when last you
visited?”

“Address the mysterious Lady Saura who
improved the cooking at Burke? If you chose not to show yourself,
who was I to speak?”

Her thoughts whirled. He’d known about her,
but never told his friends the truth. There were depths to Raymond,
depths she didn’t understand. Should she trust him?

He teased, “Were you hiding in the
corner?”

“’Twas easier,” she excused
herself.

“And now, poor thing, William has forced you
to perform for all.”

“I pay the price for marriage,” she
said calmly.

“The marriage every woman insists
on.”

“Not my woman.” William strolled in,
blocking the view
from the great hall. With
great deliberation, he removed Raymond’s hands from her
shoulders. “She’d rather be my meretrix.”

“But William is forever honorable,”
Raymond mocked. “He insists on marriage.” He rolled his
neck in weariness, and a faint regret tinged his voice. “God,
I must be tired.”

William wrapped an arm around Saura’s waist
and turned her away, but Raymond called, “Stop!”
Stepping in front of her, he examined her, then ordered the maid,
“Wet me a cloth.” With gentle hands, he took the rag
and wiped at Saura’s chin. “I dirtied your
face.”

She laughed, a pure, musical sound of pleasure, and
he stared with an air of enchantment. “Welcome to my heart,
Lady Saura.” He leaned down and touched her cheek with his
lips.

“Many thanks, my lord.” She
curtsied.

Gruffly, William ordered, “Wipe the dirt off
her cheek, Raymond, so we can go out and finish our meal.”
Grinning, Raymond did as William ordered. William picked up her
hand and played with her fingers, observing her creamy skin and the
slight flush that underlay it. She
was
beautiful, and he couldn’t fault Raymond for seeing it. But
he preferred those past days when she was his to look on, and his
alone.

Had she ever been his? It seemed so long ago, he
could hardly remember. She looked like a princess, untouched, pure;
and wanton with the curves of her body to tempt him. He pulled her
a step closer and she came willingly, her hip pressing against his
thigh. The touch liberated the thought from his inner mind; kiss
her and show Raymond whose lady she was. He pulled her closer
again, put his hand on her waist, brought her flush against him.
Her hands clasped his arms to keep her balance and she raised her
face with sweet readiness. A sudden rosy pleasure at the warmth of
their two
bodies filled him, and he raised her
onto her toes. In a voice as smooth and golden as honey, he
murmured, “You’re short for me, but I like it. I like
lifting you to me, I like towering above you. It makes me feel that
only I can protect you and keep you from all harm.”

It was heaven and hell. He shut his eyes, blotting
out the world, and with searching instinct found her lips. They
were open slightly, encouraging him to feats of madness, enticing
him to plunge in and create fantasies for them both. He did not. He
brushed her with his lips, dragged the grain of his beard across
her mouth, and drove her to cling to him in spasms of joy. He
wanted to fling her on the bed that sat close at hand, but remnants
of his conscience refused for reasons he couldn’t
remember.

His inner mind, the one that first suggested this
madness, kept insisting he should pleasure her now, but he nobly
ignored it and dragged himself back out of this pit.

Saura clung to him, whimpering deep in her throat,
and held him to her with one hand at his waist. He shut out the
world for one more moment, savoring the sound and the feel of her,
and then he set her down and opened his eyes. That was almost a
mistake. Her head tilted back, still begging for attention. Her
lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed a fiery red, and tendrils of
dark hair etched her forehead.

By our Lady of the Fountain, could he wait another
day?

“A convincing demonstration.”

A voice interrupted William’s intense
scrutiny and brought his gaze up to stare blankly at the
speaker.

“The priests say ’tis better to marry
than to burn, but it seems you will do both.”

William cleared his head. This was Raymond who
teased them, Raymond who watched with kind interest as he slavered
over his woman. Glancing toward the open door, he
saw the craning heads of the too-curious servants and
the grinning folk at the head table. Reaching out, William took
Saura by the back of the head and brought her close to him once
more, to bury her head in his shirt and hide her face. He stroked
her hair, soothing her, and answered Raymond with rough humor,
“If this be hellfire, the sinners would jump into the
coals.”

Raymond laughed, his gaze on Saura. “Trust
you to steal the beautiful heiress before any of the rest of us has
a chance.”

The sharp agony of unfulfilled desire made William
want to strike his dearest friend for gazing at her in
appreciation. Instead he turned the subject with admirable
composure. “There’ll be a mêlée after
we’ve eaten. Will you be too tired to participate?”

Raymond tossed his filthy cloak to his squire and
stretched his arms toward the ceiling. “Today I could kill a
boar bare-handed.”

“We hunted boar yesterday,” William
answered drily.

“Do we eat it today?”

“Aye. Come out and have a slice.”

“I could eat the whole boar.”