Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  “You address Sir Richard, but whether it is an honor… Is my lady your prisoner, Sir Adam?”

  “She is my vassal.”

  “She is your vassal?” Sir Richard asked, his face suddenly darkening. His destrier danced, indicating the sudden tightening of his hand upon the rein.

  “Sir Gilbert de Neville is dead,” Adam said quietly, “but not by my hand, I assure you, nor by any contrivance of mine.” He was deeply grateful to Gilliane for having prepared him for this. Had they not discussed the matter previously, Adam knew he would have flown into a rage at the suspicion implicit in Sir Richard’s expression and manner. “Sir Richard,” he went on, “you came here alone, knowing Tarring was taken. You must then have had some reason to believe you would be treated with honor.”

  “My son is waiting with every man in the keep armed and ready. If I do not return in a very short time, he will come seeking me.”

  “I believe you,” Adam replied, “but nonetheless you came alone. Thus, you must have known or guessed that the conqueror of Tarring did not desire your hurt. Why, then, should you believe I would harm a poor, helpless creature whose living would have been greatly to my benefit?”

  Gilliane had prodded her mare forward. “It is true, Sir Richard. Indeed, poor Gilbert was dead over a week before Sir Adam and his companions arrived. And I do not speak through force or fear.” She paused a moment and then said bitterly, “I told you what I feared, and it came to pass. No sooner was Gilbert dead than Osbert forced me into marriage. I have with me the signed contract.”

  “What?” Sir Richard gasped, and then. “How came Lord Gilbert to die?”

  “He fell from the window of our apartment, but how that came about I do not know,” Gilliane replied, her voice trembling just a little. “I had a blow to my head, and knew nothing. For that matter, I do not know how my mark came upon this contract, for I would have died sooner—I swear it. But this I can tell you. If I made that mark at all, someone held my hand to do it. I do not need to mark an X. I can write my name.”

  “Lady Gilliane!” Adam exclaimed, remembering despite his shock at the bold-faced lie to address her formally. Even Adam the heedless realized that to display his relationship with Gilliane at this moment would merely make it harder to convince Sir Richard that he had had nothing to do with Gilbert de Neville’s death.

  “Do you not believe that I can write?” Gilliane asked with a touch of plaintive indignation that made Adam’s eyes widen.

  He knew that most women were capable of displaying emotions they did not feel, but he did not like to be reminded of it with respect to Gilliane. Even less did he like being made a party to the lie, yet he was trapped. To show any doubt of Gilliane’s truthfulness could only start a whole series of suspicions in Sir Richard’s mind that might end in his conviction that the marriage contract was a forgery. Adam stiffened. He had never thought of that. It was conceivable that Gilliane would employ such a device to keep herself free of a real forced marriage. She had had time enough while she kept them outside the castle ostensibly bargaining for Cuthbert’s safety. She could have… No! He would not think about it. He would end a madman.

  “I know you write, Lady Gilliane,” he said stiffly.

  “It does not matter,” Sir Richard said bitterly. “I need no proof that Lady Gilliane would not willingly accept de Cercy. I saw his behavior to her, and to poor Lord Gilbert, also.”

  “Yes, and so when I came to my senses—for I was ill a long time after Gilbert died—Osbert was just leaving the keep. He told me to hold it while he went for help, but I did not hold it. I yielded Tarring and all else in my hands to Sir Adam. I had rather be prisoner or dead than wife to Osbert de Cercy.”

  “But…God in heaven, what does that contract say?”

  “That Lady Gilliane was Gilbert de Neville’s heir and that all the honors and powers of her inheritance are to be held by her husband during her life and inherited by him after her death,” Adam replied deliberately.

  “No!” Sir Richard exclaimed.

  “Just so,” Adam agreed. “When I, with my stepfather, Lord Ian de Vipont, and my brother-by-marriage, Lord Geoffrey FitzWilliam, came into Tarring, Lady Gilliane took terms, accepting me as her overlord. She complained to me of the forced marriage, and I agreed that it must be repudiated.”

  “Yes, although I do not see how… But I will not have Osbert de Cercy as overlord, not even if I must gainsay my oath of homage.”

  “There is no need for that,” Adam pointed out. “You swore to Lady Gilliane, and there is no reason to violate that oath. De Cercy, after all, has made no claim on you.”

  “But what if he does?”

  “Sir Richard, we need time and comfort to discuss this matter. It is cold here for Lady Gilliane. Is there some place that you would consider safe for you—and safe for Lady Gilliane—where we could be at ease to talk?”

  The older man looked down at the younger for a long, considering moment. “I knew your father very well, Sir Adam, when he was sheriff in these parts. He was the most honest man I have ever dealt with. I know your stepfather by reputation. Let me ride back to Glynde to tell my son that all is well, and then I will return with you to Tarring.”

  “I thank you, sir, for your courtesy,” Adam said. “I swear, upon my life, you will not regret what you now do.”

  Neither man regretted it. The talk was most satisfactory on both sides. Trust was established, and it was agreed that, as Sir Richard had had no part in old Gilbert de Neville’s switch in loyalties, he was not responsible for Lady Gilliane’s change back to King Henry’s party. He had been loyal always to his overlord and would continue in that path. Sir Richard was not completely happy at the thought of Louis’s strength in the area, the great keeps of Pevensey, Lewes, Bramber, Hastings, Amberly, and Arundel all being in the hands of Louis’s men. However, he had heard rumors of the favoritism shown to the French. With Saer dead, his choice was between taking Osbert as overlord for his French connections and accepting Adam with his affiliation to the king’s party.

  The lesser of the two evils was plainly Adam. Sir Richard had always felt a sneaking uneasiness about repudiating John. He had comforted himself with the thought that his oath was to Neville and he had no way of controlling his overlord. After John died, his uneasiness had increased. It seemed dreadful to be part of a group that was attempting to deprive a child of his heritage. Only the knowledge that his own wife and children would be the immediate victims of any attempt to unseat Saer had convinced Sir Richard to keep the status quo.

  He felt an enormous sense of righteousness and relief in returning to his original loyalties, and this was bolstered by his knowledge of Adam’s connections. Adam pledged Lord Ian’s and Lord Geoffrey’s support in the face of any attack by the prince’s forces. Sir Richard renewed his oath to Gilliane with considerable enthusiasm, and then sat down to plan bringing Gilliane’s other vassals into line.

  “I am sure you will have no trouble with Sir Andrew and Sir Edmund. In fact, I had much ado to keep Edmund from repudiating Saer as soon as John died. He was all for the little king. I held him only by pointing out that there was no contest in these parts and he could only lose his land by declaring against Louis with no support.”

  “Sir Edmund is where?” Adam asked.

  “Alresford—some ten miles from Winchester,” Sir Richard replied. Adam whistled between his teeth, and Sir Richard nodded. “Yes,” he continued with a wry smile, “Edmund is a nice young man, but a little hot in the head. Ten miles from the stronghold of Saer de Quincy, the second greatest rebel next to FitzWalter, and he wishes to declare openly for the king.”

  His tone invited Adam to agree that the young were foolhardy, as if Adam were a man of his own age instead of younger than Sir Edmund, but his eyes were watchful. However, he was not disappointed. Adam had not been trained by Robert of Leicester—the most famous fence-sitter of the age—for nothing.

  “There is no need to blazon abroad the answer to a que
stion no one has asked,” Adam replied promptly. “We will need to write to Sir Edmund—something soothing that will induce him to hold his tongue and keep the peace until we can come to him. There is no need to waste time on someone whose sympathies are already with us. Believe me, I have no desire to start a war single-handed. However,” Adam added firmly, “when it is time, I will expect you all to do your parts to thrust Louis out.”

  “If there is a reasonable hope of it, we will not fail you,” Sir Richard agreed. “Of the other men, Sir Andrew…well, I do not mean to speak ill of him. He is a good man of his hands, but…if I tell him it is right, he will swear to Lady Gilliane. I am not sure he understood that Neville had gone over to Louis. It would be unwise to discuss the matter with him, if I may offer a word of advice.”

  “Please do not hesitate to do so. You know these men, and I do not wish to fight Lady Gilliane’s men if it can be avoided.”

  “Yes, well, I am afraid it may be necessary if we are to hold Bexhill. Sir Godfrey was one of the first to urge old Lord Gilbert to swear to Louis. One cannot blame him, really, caught as he is between Pevensey and Hastings. Also, he is a man most set in his opinions, argument or threat only making him more stubborn.”

  “Then Bexhill had better be left to its own devices until we are all of one mind,” Gilliane said.

  Both men turned to stare at her. She had said very little, beyond the usual feminine offerings of food and wine, since Adam and Sir Richard had begun their talk. Sir Richard had been a little surprised when Adam set a chair for her, because he could not see that a woman would have any interest in such a discussion. That she was technically his overlady was a thing apart from any practical reality. He knew summons would be sent in Gilliane’s name, for example, but he assumed Adam would be the real sender and have complete control. After Sir Richard’s initial surprise that Adam expected Gilliane to listen to them, however, he was pleased; it was a kind and courteous gesture on Adam’s part to seem to include his direct vassal in the planning. The interruption surprised Sir Richard even more, but not nearly so much as what followed.

  “It is my land, after all,” Gilliane said gently, “and I suppose I must be allowed to decide.”

  “Within reason, my lady,” Adam agreed, “and so long as I believe that your decision does not harm my interests or the interests of the king. What is your reason for abandoning Bexhill?”

  Gilliane’s reason was that she did not want Adam to fight anyone, anywhere, ever, but she had sense enough not to say that. “From what you said earlier about Sir Edmund, and from what I understand to be Bexhill’s position, to take it from Sir Godfrey by war, perhaps after a long siege and many assaults, would be the same as stirring an anthill with a stick. That is, surely all the activity would draw undesirable attention from Hastings and Pevensey. If it were possible to come in such force that Sir Godfrey would yield at once, there would be much less likelihood that the suspicions of Louis’s people would be wakened or their interest aroused.”

  Sir Richard said nothing. His mouth hung a little open and he stared at the big soft-brown eyes, the delicate heart-shaped face with its fine nose and sweet, full lips. He had never heard such talk from a woman. His instinct was to tell her to mind her own business—which was the needle and the cooking pot—only what she said made remarkably good sense. When the second shock that realization gave him passed, he looked apprehensively at Adam. Young men did not love advice, least of all from a conquered woman. But Adam was smiling at Gilliane with the proud look of a hen with one precocious chick. All of a sudden a brilliant idea came to Sir Richard. One worry in the back of his mind had been that if Adam found the costs of defending Lady Gilliane’s lands higher than the profits to be taken from them, he might abandon his new vassal and her men to their own devices after setting them at odds with Louis. Sir Richard did not really believe this, he was sure Adam was too honorable. However, the danger did exist. Now he saw a certain way to avoid it. Adam must marry Lady Gilliane—as soon as they were rid of de Cercy.

  “That is reasonable enough,” Adam said, controlling an urgent desire to take his grave counselor into his arms and kiss her soundly. “Let us leave the question of Bexhill stand aside until we have seen what else lies before us.”

  Fortunately, Sir Richard had recovered enough from his surprise to respond naturally. “If you are asking me what I think best, my lord, I would say we should go first to Sir Andrew at Rother. That need not take much time, but he is…er…not quick of understanding, and his feelings would be hurt if we only sent a letter and did not…er…ask courteously for his loyalty and assistance. Then…then I think we should take the chance of riding to Sir Edmund. It is a fair journey, but if Andrew and Edmund are with us, Philip will agree to swear to Lady Gilliane without protest. I…er…Sir Philip is not a bad man, and he is very clever, but…er…”

  “But he wishes to be sure his interests will not be overlooked?”

  “Yes.”

  Gilliane’s eyes had been moving anxiously from Sir Richard to Adam. She realized that Sir Richard was trying to avoid the suspicion of speaking ill of his fellow vassals to increase his own value and importance. There was danger in that. Adam, sweet-natured and trusting as he was, might take the words as said instead of as meant. In this, Gilliane badly underestimated Adam, who, though good-natured enough, was far from trusting. Sir Richard’s meaning was relatively clear to him. Before Sir Richard could reply to Adam’s bland comment, Gilliane spoke.

  “And if he thinks his interests are not cared for, he will care for them himself. Is that what you mean to say, Sir Richard?”

  “Well…” the vassal hesitated.

  Adam’s lips twitched. “It is a characteristic of women, I have noticed, to be most nice and delicate about spitting and pissing but to say those things that had better be wrapped up in white linen in the most bald and uncompromising manner.”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Gilliane offered meekly. “I only wished that there should not be any misunderstanding. Sir Richard is too generous to speak his true suspicions, I fear, but here, in private, the worst should be said so that it may be considered along with the best.”

  Again both men stared at Gilliane. She had made an important point. Sir Richard cleared his throat. Adam shrugged. “She is right, you know,” he said.

  “Very well, then I will speak as plain as I can and beg you to remember that I do not speak for spite. Sir Philip is no coward and is a valuable man to have as an ally. Nor do I believe him to have treacherous intent. He will not fail you on the field of battle. However, he thinks too much. If he has overmuch time for consideration before a battle, for example, it is not unknown for him to grow to believe he is ill-used, put too much in the forefront. Then, he will withdraw. Or, if he should be besieged and you do not come swiftly enough to his aid, he will believe he is betrayed, and you may find yourself with two enemies instead of one when you do come.”

  “I will make sure to speak to him often, soothe his care, and assure him of my good will.” Adam nodded, dismissing Sir Philip. One could never really predict the behavior of such men, but Gilliane had been right. The plain speaking was necessary. Now he would know better what to watch for in Sir Philip’s behavior. “The last, then, is Sir Matthew of Wick.”

  The struggle on Sir Richard’s face was interesting. He was an honest man and did not wish to lie, but plainly he hated Sir Matthew and was finding it hard to resist the temptation to say what he felt.

  “I am not the right man to speak of Sir Matthew,” he got out at last. “I have a personal reason to know him as a treacherous dog—but I have no proof of it, nor of the fact that the thing was done on purpose. Probably, if we all come together with an army, he will yield. That he will be faithful—I do not believe it, but you must judge for yourself.”

  “That is something to think about also,” Adam said, shooting a meaningful glance at Sir Richard. “But our first moves are clear. I cannot see any plan better than what you have offered.
We will ride to Rother as soon as is convenient for you, Sir Richard.”

  “The sooner the better for me, but will it be safe to leave Lady Gilliane alone in Tarring? I hope—”

  “I ride with you,” Gilliane said firmly. “To whom will Sir Andrew swear if I do not?”

  Adam grinned as Sir Richard’s mouth gaped again. It was a reaction with which Adam was quite familiar. Men who did not know his mother always looked that way from time to time while holding conversations with her. It was a considerable delight to Adam that his woman should have the same effect.

  “But, my lady,” Sir Richard expostulated, “this is not the time of year nor is the land in a state of peace proper for ladies to travel. The baggage warns will be mired—”

  A trill of laughter cut him off. “My dear Sir Richard, you are so very kind to be concerned for my comfort, but truly I am a hardy creature. One pack-horse can carry all things needed for my ease.” Her eyes darkened and the laughter died. “I assure you there were no baggage wains when Osbert de Cercy brought me hither from France, and I wore a knife strapped to my thigh for my own protection.”

  “Now that,” Adam remarked, “is an excellent idea. I have thought more than once that an eating knife is no more than a toy. I remember when my sister had need to go alone into a keep where we were not sure of a friendly reception that I bid her carry a real knife, but I was concerned that it would be hard for her to hide it. You must show me—”

  He cut that off and blushed. Gilliane also colored. Adam was appalled at his slip, but it was really most fortunate. By and large, Sir Richard had been taken up with the practical concerns of changing political sides and his shock at Gilliane’s unwomanly perspicacity. He had not noticed any sign of love.

  In any case, that thought was the least compelling in Sir Richard’s mind. The hardness that had changed Gilliane’s normally sweet expression when she spoke of Osbert, and Adam’s casual acceptance of the notion of a woman defending herself with a knife and his comment about sending his sister into an enemy’s stronghold alone, worked so powerfully on Sir Richard’s mind that he had little attention to give to the subject of the relationship between Adam and Gilliane. Although Glynde was a substantial holding with an extensive demesne and several freehold farms attached to it, Sir Richard knew that he and Adam were not really of the same class. Adam had no title; technically, Sir Richard and his overlord were both simple barons. Nonetheless, Adam’s connections were wide and powerful. He was overlord to a number of men very like Sir Richard. Most probably, Sir Richard thought, the women of Adam’s class were different.