Promised to the Crusader

by Anne Herries

Yet for a time they had been friends. Had Philip not been seen murdering his uncle—had Baron de Bricasse not threatened to tell the king—they might have remained friends. It was the knowledge of what Zander might do if he discovered the truth that had made Philip realise that he must destroy Zander before he could rest easily at night.

  In the Holy Land the Saracens had almost done his work for him. He’d heard that Zander lay close to death and he’d believed himself safe, but then his friend returned and brought a fortune with him, some of which he’d sent to Philip for safekeeping until he returned to claim it.

  Philip had been sorely tempted to keep the chests of gold, silks and precious items, but then he’d seen Elaine and he’d known that he must have her. She was what Zander prized most, far more than his gold and silver, which was only a part of the fortune he’d amassed over the years. If he wanted to punish Zander for all the nights of fear, when he’d woken in a cold sweat after a dream in which his one-time friend killed him, it must be through the girl. And she was lovely. Philip wanted to seduce her. He wanted to possess and hurt her—and she had almost been his.

  She would be again. He would have her whether she liked it or not. When he was ready he would take the manor and he would take her. It mattered not whether she was his wife—he would use her, humble her and then…

  ‘My lord…’

  Philip turned and looked at the terrified housecarl in the doorway. ‘I have news.’

  ‘Speak, sirrah.’ Philip glared down at the wretch as he fell to his knees. The man was so terrified that the news must be bad. ‘Speak or I will have your tongue.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ the man cried, almost weeping in his fear. ‘We have found Lady Anne. She is gone to the Abbey of St Michael and the Abbess has given her sanctuary.’

  ‘Damn her!’ Philip kicked the man before him, sending him sprawling to the ground where he lay moaning. ‘Get out of here.’

  The man was almost gibbering when he looked up. ‘There is more…Lord…Lord Zander hath come back. He and his men are at Sweetbriars and…he has been reinforced by at least thirty men this morning.’

  A pulse was beating at Philip’s temple and the pain was almost more than he could bear. He swung away from the cowering servant, his rage so great that for a moment he was close to falling in a fit, white spittle on his lips.

  His sister was beyond his reach, for despite all his power the King’s Marshal could not command her to come forth from the abbey. Even the king himself would not be admitted to that place of sanctuary if he demanded it—and Richard would never permit a House of God to be despoiled. If Philip raised a hand against his sister now, he would feel the king’s wrath when he returned to claim his throne.

  Yet even worse was the knowledge that Zander had somehow escaped death. Had the men he’d paid to do his dirty work cheated and lied to him? They swore that they’d seen Zander fall and a dozen sword cuts rain on his body. No man could live through that—could he?

  Yet Zander bore a charmed life. Any other man would have died in the Holy Land, as Philip had hoped. He had cheated death too many times.

  Philip swore several times and smashed his fist against the wall. He would have his revenge on both Zander and his wife—when he took the manor of Sweetbriars, he would have Zander chained, forcing him to watch as Philip took his pleasure with the witch.

  His head was buzzing. The pictures went round and round in his mind, becoming fragmented and then shattering as he fell to the ground and began to twitch. He cried out for help, cursing his weakness. It was an affliction he’d suffered from since his uncle’s death, perhaps a punishment from God for his evil deed.

  ‘Anne, come to me…’

  Whenever he was ill like this, Anne had made him better—but his sister was no longer here to give him her foul potion.

  Was he going to die? The thought was in his mind moments before everything went black around him.

  ‘There is a message come from Lord Stornway,’ Sister Eveline told Anne that frosty morning as she sat in her chamber sewing. ‘Will you see him, lady?’

  ‘I would rather not speak with him,’ Anne said. ‘I fear it is some trick of my brother’s. He would tempt me from my sanctuary here and then…he would kill me.’

  The nun crossed herself. ‘God have mercy,’ she said. ‘If ’tis true, you must not leave these walls while he lives, lady—but the servant spoke of your brother lying prone on his bed and nigh unto death of some strange sickness.’

  Anne frowned. ‘My brother hath the falling sickness from time to time. I used to make him a cure that eased him, but…’ She hesitated, then, ‘May I use herbs from your gardens?’

  ‘If it is for a mission of mercy, I am sure Mother Abbess would not object.’

  ‘Then you may tell my brother’s messenger that I will prepare the cure and he may return here tomorrow to fetch it. I will not deny Philip my help, but I shall not go to him, for as soon as he is better he would punish me.’

  ‘God will bless you for your charity,’ the nun said piously and went away to deliver the message.

  Anne was thoughtful. Philip did not deserve that she should do anything for him, but he was her brother. She had sins enough on her conscience and had begun to repent them in this house of prayer. Yet because of Philip she was forced to spend the rest of her life here—and already she was bored with the routine of the nuns’ days.

  A part of her was tempted to send a herbal drink that would do nothing to ease her brother’s fevered mind, but then she remembered that the mixture was strong. Had she not been there to oversee his illness in the past he could easily have taken too much and died.

  His fate was in his own hands. She would prepare the mixture and send it to Philip, with the proper instructions—but if he chose to ignore warnings…then he could easily die. It would not be her fault.

  Only God could decide what would happen then.

  The twelve days of Christmastide were happy ones for all those at Sweetbriars. They danced, sang carols and played games, everyone enjoying the time of peace and plenty that had come upon them.

  Elaine felt that Zander cared for her. He might not love her as she loved him, but he was passionate when he came to her at night and generous to her and her people.

  For Elaine there was a chain of green stones that she knew were called emeralds set in silver, which she could wind in her hair or about her throat.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ Elaine said. ‘I thank you for my gift.’

  She gave him a pair of leather gauntlets she had embroidered with silks, using his initials and the crest of a flying eagle, which he carried on his armour.

  Elaine had given small gifts of cloth to all her ladies, and Zander gave them five gold coins each, which would provide a dowry for any lady that wished to marry. She knew that some of her ladies had formed alliances with knights in Zander’s train and some might wish to marry, but most would not leave her service unless their husbands won honours and could purchase a good house and land of their own.

  After Christ’s Mass was over, the household began to be busy once more. The men went out hunting to replenish their stores of meat. They brought back venison, hares and a wild boar. The boar’s head was roasted, as was the hind they had killed, but the hares were cooked in rich sauces and the boar’s meat was salted to keep a little longer.

  Because of Elaine’s industry in the first weeks she and her ladies were at the manor, they had several barrels of salted beef and pork, flour, preserves of fruit and dried fruits, but the time of winter was difficult and outside the manor house some of the common folk were starving. Every day they had beggars at their door asking for food and medicines for the sores that afflicted their skin.

  Elaine was a generous chatelaine and she’d made good use of the herbs and berries they had gathered out foraging. No beggar was turned away without at least a piece of bread, perhaps a heel of cheese or a strip of salted beef to chew. If she thought her cures would help to ease their pain, she offered th
em freely, but often the only help she could give was to advise the sufferer to make a pilgrimage to a shrine and pray for the saint’s intervention. Some had already visited several shrines, others spoke of miraculous cures brought about by holy water, but some took what she offered gratefully and said it eased them.

  It was from one of the visiting pilgrims that they heard that the King’s Marshal lay sick on his bed.

  ‘’Tis said that he was struck down with some kind of fit after Lady Anne ran away from the castle,’ the man said and crossed himself devoutly. ‘May God rest him, for he may not be long for this earth.’

  ‘Do you know where Lady Anne went?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘I have heard she took sanctuary in the Abbey of St Michael,’ the man said and crossed himself once more. ‘It is said her brother threatened to kill her. May God protect and have mercy on her soul.’

  Elaine told Zander her news when he and his men came back from another hunting expedition that night. This time they had taken only some wood pigeon and a small deer. The weather was bitter and the smaller game had vanished from the woods, either disappearing into the pot of a desperate villager or in burrows beneath the ground. It was unlawful for the villagers to hunt in the lord’s woods, but Zander was lenient; he knew that many would starve this winter, especially on the lands of intolerant lords who gave their people nothing. Some barons would hang a man for taking a snared rabbit from his woods. Zander shared what he could, though at this time of year it could be hard to find enough food to exist, even in a house such as theirs.

  ‘Do you believe that Lord Stornway is close to death?’ she asked him. ‘Or do you think it a clever ruse to put you off your guard?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ Zander said. ‘I would go to Lady Anne and ask her—but I know she will never forgive me for killing the man she would have wed.’

  ‘I could go in your stead?’

  ‘No! Do not think of it,’ Zander said and took hold of her wrist, his eyes boring down into hers. ‘Promise me you will not defy me, Elaine. If you should be taken…we have heard nothing from Newark as yet, though Janvier sent word that he was on his way to visit him at Howarth.’

  ‘Do you believe that the earl will restore Howarth to us?’ Elaine asked. ‘Why should he? You are stronger now and I know that every day men come to you and ask for service—but Howarth is not easily breached. It would not have fallen to Newark had he not used trickery.’

  ‘We need more manors,’ Zander told her and frowned. ‘Sweetbriars hath supported us thus far, but the game is scarce and we need to move on soon, especially if I am to gather more armed men about me. I have asked my uncle to find me a house and land near his own, but Howarth belongs to you—and through you to me.’

  ‘What will you do if he refuses to give it up?’

  ‘I must settle with Philip first and then…’ Zander frowned as he saw her look. ‘I know you do not wish me to leave, but I have to protect your interests, as well as those of our people. As the lord of this manor I have my duties.’

  ‘Yes, I understand.’ Elaine smothered her sigh. Great lords had huge responsibilities to the people who relied on them for their living and the work of running a large manor went on from first light to dusk. She had been fortunate to have a period of some weeks settled at her dower lands. Sweetbriars was not large enough to support all Zander’s entourage for the whole year; they must move on soon, and perhaps sooner than she’d hoped. ‘You must decide for the best,’ she said. ‘Has your uncle found anything suitable for us?’

  ‘He wrote of a manor not more than twenty leagues’ distance from his own, which will soon be for sale. The land is sweet and there are extensive woods with plenty of game, also a small lake well stocked with fish. I think it may suit us—and I plan to visit my uncle to secure the property, as soon as I am certain you will be safe here.’

  Elaine wanted to ask if she could go with him, but she knew she must not cling. Many knights left their wives at home while they went to court or to foreign lands to fight wars for their king. She had waited so many years for Zander to return and since then they had had only a few stolen hours of time alone together. He had his duties as lord of the manor and she had hers—but her heart protested at the thought of parting from him once more.

  ‘When do you plan to leave?’ she asked, but even as he prepared to answer there was a commotion in the hall and then one of his men came hurrying towards them.

  ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘Will you come? The Earl of Newark is at the gates with a force of some thirty men. He claims he comes in peace to treat with you. Will you give him entrance?’

  ‘If he hath no more than thirty men, he has no idea of making war on us. Ask him to come in with fifteen of his knights and they may retain their swords. The others must wait outside, but the gates will remain open.’

  As the man hurried back to pass on his message, Zander turned to Elaine. His eyes were dark with concern as he looked down at her.

  ‘Go to your room and lock the door lest it be a trick. There may be fighting and I would not have you harmed or kidnapped—though I think Newark must have come in friendship, because he would be outnumbered by my men.’

  ‘I shall do as you ask,’ Elaine said. ‘Do not fret for my sake, Zander. I shall gather my ladies and we will work on our sewing until you send word that we may come down.’

  ‘Then I must leave you.’ He smiled and reached out to touch her face with the tips of his fingers. ‘These past weeks have been the happiest of my life.’

  With those words he left her and Elaine called to her ladies. They had hurried to her as soon as the news concerning the earl’s arrival had reached them and flocked up the twisting stairs to her solar and the sewing room, where many of them slept at night. She could hear their whispers and knew that they were anxious and uneasy.

  Elaine set them to mending torn garments or embroidery, depending on their talents. She went to the window herself and looked down at the scene below. Men and horses were milling around and she could not tell whether they came in friendship or to cause harm.

  ‘Sit with us, my lady,’ Marion said. ‘Read to us from the Bible. It will ease all our minds.’

  ‘Yes, I must leave everything to my lord,’ Elaine said. Her heavy Bible, bound in leather and embossed with silver, was set out on a lectern of good English oak. She opened it, looking at the pages of thick vellum on which monks had inscribed the words of God, each page beautifully decorated with bright images of gold, crimson, yellow and blue. It had taken several monks years to perfect this work of art, which was worth a small fortune.

  Elaine read aloud the passage concerning the creation of mankind. It was writ in Latin and most of her ladies could understand a few words of the ancient language, but they all knew the story and were used to hearing it read by priests, for all religious services were conducted in the ancient tongue.

  Her voice soothed them and they bent over their work, none of them speaking as she continued to read out loud. Some time had passed before a knock sounded at the door and then Bertrand’s voice was heard telling them to open for him.

  Marion got up and went to the door, looking at him anxiously. ‘What news?’ she asked. ‘Is all well?’

  ‘It seems the earl comes in friendship. He has brought documents for Lord Zander to see—some relating to the castle at Howarth, I think—and others to King Richard’s return.’

  Elaine closed her Bible. ‘Does my lord send for me?’ she asked.

  ‘You and your ladies may come down now. My lord is satisfied that no harm is intended.’

  Elaine breathed a sigh of relief, for Zander had taken a risk by admitting the Earl of Newark. She signalled to her ladies.

  ‘Very well, we shall come down now.’

  They gathered about her, still subdued and unsure, but she smiled at them. ‘Zander would not send for us unless he was certain.’

  She led the way down the stairs to the hall below. It seemed to be filled with men and she guessed that
Zander had summoned his knights to give a show of strength. As she entered the large room a hush fell and every head was turned to look at her. She saw the earl, saw his eyes narrow and felt apprehensive. Would he truly submit so tamely to Zander’s request?

  Raising her head proudly, she walked to where he was standing with Zander. Outwardly, she was calm, though her heart raced wildly. She fought to subdue the trembling of her hands. This man had murdered her uncle, humiliated her aunt and done his best to capture her. Pride and anger banished the fear, her eyes beginning to spark with temper.

  ‘Elaine, my love, the earl hath something to say to you.’ Zander smiled at her.

  ‘I have come to beg your pardon, Lady Elaine,’ the earl said and his thick lips curved in what passed for a smile. ‘Had I understood you were betrothed to Lord Zander, I should not have pursued my claim to your hand and lands.’

  ‘You killed my uncle and banished his lady wife, sir.’

  ‘Regrettably that is so,’ he agreed. ‘I considered that your uncle had cheated me and so I planned to take what was mine by force—but you escaped me. I have seen the deceit Lord Howarth meant to practise—he would have kept your lands himself and cheated us both, Lady Elaine. Since you are now wed to Lord Zander, your lands belong to him—and I shall restore them to him. I shall also make reparation of one hundred silver pieces to you for any harm that was done you.’

  Elaine’s gaze narrowed. The man’s leer made her feel sick inside and she wanted to refuse, to throw his silver back in his face. He had murdered her uncle by a trick and it was a lie to say that he had been cheated, for he’d never had any right to her or her lands. She had refused his offer and he’d thought to take everything he wanted by trickery. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him what she thought of him, but something in Zander’s eyes warned her to hold her tongue. She was seething inside, but she said nothing and waited for her husband’s lead.

  ‘My wife thanks you for your offer,’ Zander said. ‘She was fond of her uncle, but like you she was deceived in him. Come, Elaine, set your hand to this document and the feud is ended. The Earl of Newark travels to his lands in Normandy, where he hopes to meet with Richard—and there must be no enmity between us, for the king needs all his friends when he returns to England.’