Only For You

by Hannah Howell

  “Botolf,” she called.

  Mellowed by drink, joviality, and the lateness of the hour, Botolf lifted her up in his arms and set her on his lap. “What, dearling?”

  “This is very undignified,” she scolded, but grinned at him.

  “Aye. Do not recall me to it come the morning.”

  “I promise. Um, Botolf? Do you recall our speaking about the chance of a spy within your household?”

  The clouding fumes of drink rapidly cleared his mind, and Botolf tensed. “Aye. I remember that very well. A close watch has been kept for a traitor, but none has been found.”

  “We-ell, I cannot be sure, but I think I may have found him.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Not much, I fear. I found myself watching everyone in the great hall and wondered why. Then I knew when one particular man caught my eye and held it. The news of a child is news Cecil would be interested in, would he not?”

  “Very interested. He told you as much when he attacked you.”

  “Aye, he did. His lackey will be very eager to get this news to him, and when do you think the best time would be to do that?”

  His angry scowl was disguised by Saxan, who idly fed him grapes, and his expression was impossible to maintain. “When everyone here is besotted by drink and celebration.”

  “Exactly what I thought. That man seated near the wall—the one with the red hair and a blue jupon—drinks little, yet pretends that he drinks a lot. He watches everyone around him, yet pretends that he is soddened with drink and can barely stay awake.”

  “ ’Tis James, James Pipp. Aye, he was close to Cecil.” Botolf covertly watched the man for a while and saw the same things Saxan had. “He may not be the traitor, but he plays a curious game and bears close watching. Ah, here comes Wesley. Let us pray that he is sober.”

  Sir Wesley was not drunk, although Saxan guessed that he had been working hard to reach that condition. He sobered quickly when he heard what Saxan and Botolf had noticed about James. Saxan soon saw that Wesley could play James’ game far better than the man himself. When Pipp finally slipped away, Wesley was a steady shadow at his heels.

  “And now all I can do is wait,” Botolf muttered, then smiled faintly when he saw Saxan try to smother a yawn. “We will retire soon.”

  “You need not come to bed with me, Botolf,” Saxan said as she straightened up, regretfully leaving the comfortable resting place against his broad chest. “You may linger here if you wish.”

  “I do not wish. I lingered only to see if Pipp left and Wesley followed.”

  Just as they stood up, Lady Mary and Edric hurried to their side. Saxan could sense a tense excitement in the pair. She guessed that Cecil was not all the couple had discussed while secluded in Lady Mary’s bedchamber for so long.

  “I have a request, m’lord,” Sir Edric began with gravity although the glance he sent Lady Mary was one of laughter and happiness.

  Botolf began to suspect what the question would be. “And what is that, Sir Edric?”

  “You are your mother’s only male kin, so I turn to you to request her hand in marriage. I realize that I reach high, m’lord—”

  “Oh, Edric,” Lady Mary protested, but she was ignored.

  “Howbeit,” continued Edric. “I must ask. I may not be able to keep her in such luxury as this, but she will want for nothing as my wife.”

  “All I want is you, Edric,” Lady Mary whispered. “That is enough for me.”

  Saxan held her breath as Botolf hesitated in answering. Although Botolf wished for his mother’s happiness and liked Edric, that did not mean he would approve of his mother’s marrying a mere knight and vassal. He did have a great deal of pride in his name and could easily have felt that this union could seriously hurt that good name. Although he had no control over his mother, his disapproval could be enough to stop her from reaching for happiness with Edric.

  Saxan let her breath out slowly and beamed as widely as Lady Mary when Botolf smiled and said, “My mother has just given you your answer, Sir Edric. When is the wedding to be?”

  Saxan stretched sleepily as she heard someone come into the room. She opened one eye and saw a disheveled Wesley leaning over Botolf. When she heard Wesley say that he had found Pipp with his throat cut, she shivered and huddled closer to a tense Botolf. The man’s death did not trouble her, for he had been a traitor who was helping Cecil try to kill Botolf, but it did frighten her. Each time they drew a little closer to Cecil, the man slipped out of their reach again. She could not help but wonder if they would ever be able to end the threat to their lives before it could be carried out.

  Thirteen

  “Stop squirming.” Botolf kissed Saxan’s ear and held her closer.

  “I feel I ought to visit with Denu, who has traveled so far to be here, and I am not really tired, Botolf.” Saxan sighed with a mixture of annoyance and resignation.

  “Nevertheless, you will rest before attending my mother’s wedding. It will be a long, tiring evening. It is the middle of November, and the dullness of winter has already set heavily on Regenford. This chance to celebrate is much looked forward to and will go on for a long time. It could even grow wild.”

  “You were not really surprised when the king approved the match, were you?”

  “Nay. My mother is a distant cousin of the king and past childbearing age. What land she holds is poor and small. She is of little use to him.”

  “So she may wed where she wishes to.”

  “Aye. Asking the king’s approval was just courtesy. Have you spoken with my mother yet?”

  Saxan grimaced. “Nay. I am a coward. Everything goes along so smoothly that I do not wish to bring up a time that was painful to both of us. Mayhap it is best forgotten.”

  “If you are certain that it has been forgotten.”

  “Aye. Your mother acts as she always did before I flayed her with harsh words.”

  “Then let it lie, if you wish.”

  She propped herself on one elbow and smiled crookedly at her husband. “You think I should speak to her about it. Has she said anything to you? Has she hinted about why she finally left her room? Or why she now accepts my uncle?”

  Botolf gently urged her head back down onto his chest and sighed. “Nay, not a word.”

  “ ’Tis a shame Wesley lost Pipp. The trouble with Cecil could well be over now, and we could stop fretting over these things.”

  “Aye, but now we have to wonder how Cecil found out that Wesley was following his lackey and so killed the man. He could have tried again.”

  “To cut the throat of a man who was loyal to you,” she whispered and shuddered.

  “Cecil cares for no life but his own. I saw that in him years ago. He was a cruel child and that viciousness deepened with age.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “We will find Cecil and end this game, do not fear, little one.” A soft knock sounded at the door and Botolf frowned, for he had made it clear that he and Saxan were to be left alone. “Who is it?”

  “ ’Tis your mother, Botolf.”

  As he sat up, Botolf gently restrained Saxan from doing the same and called, “Come in.” When his mother entered, there was a look on her face that prompted him to ask, “Is there anything wrong?”

  “Nay, my son.” She shut the door and moved purposefully toward the bed. “I but need to talk—to both of you. Nay, Saxan, lie down,” she said as Saxan tried again to sit up. “ ’Tis good for a woman with child to lie abed now and again.”

  “Is something wrong with the preparations for the wedding?”

  “Nay, Botolf. I wish to talk of Cecil, of my foolish hiding away in my room.”

  “ ’Twas my fault, m’lady,” Saxan said. “There was no need for me to spew my rage at you in so cruel a manner.”

  “Nay, Saxan,” Lady Mary said. “Even if I never faced up to the truth of your words, I would never condemn you for them. You had a right to your anger. That much I understood even then. You have naught to apologize
for.”

  “You need not speak on it, Mother. ’Tis forgotten,” Botolf assured her.

  “I think not. Just this once I wish to talk about it, then I want to hear no more of Cecil. Well, as little as possible.”

  “As you wish.”

  “When I think of how stubbornly blind I have been, I feel a terrible fool.”

  “Nay, m’lady,” Saxan protested.

  “ ’Tis a fool who closes her eyes to the truth, Saxan, and that is what I did,” said Lady Mary. “Cecil could be so sweet. He was the second child I was never able to give my husband. It was also hard for me to understand how he could turn against us so when he had been taken into our home, recognized, and trusted. How could he strike out at Botolf when he knew it would be as if he struck at me, too?

  “Ah, the excuses I made for him. Even as a child. Aye, Botolf, I was not blind to his games and faults. I thought, mayhap, that he felt the sting of bastardy too keenly. What little I saw was not too bad; but, then, as he became a man, he grew worse.

  “When the attacks began on you, Botolf, a part of me did believe, but I struggled to repress that. ’Twas Cain and Abel, and I could not bear to think that such a sin could emerge within my own family.”

  “I always understood that, Mother.”

  “I know, Botolf. You were most forbearing. But, then, when he attacked Saxan,” Lady Mary shuddered. “I could hear the tale even as I went to her aid, but I closed my ears to it. Howbeit, here was an evil I could not fully ignore. Here was no shadowy figure that Botolf could fight off and who could have been bought by anyone.

  “The reason your words cut me so, Saxan, was because they were the same ones that echoed in my own heart and mind. I was trying so hard to silence those voices, and you strengthened them. They became a deafening roar, and I simply could not bear it.”

  “I am so sorry, m’lady,” Saxan said.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, child,” Lady Mary assured her. “Truly. I would have acted the same in your place.” She smiled faintly. “Nay, I would have collapsed and mayhap have lost the child because of shock and fear. We can only thank God that you are made of stronger stuff.”

  Lady Mary took a deep, steadying breath and continued. “I hid away in my room so that I could think, to come face to face with the truth. Even though I knew I was worrying you, I had no alternative. I needed to be alone, to hear no words but those that came from my own mind and heart. It was a time for me to face my own demons, fears, and follies. ’Twas also time to grieve for that pretty dark-eyed babe I had nursed.

  “I looked back to the very beginning and made note of all that had been said about Cecil and all that I had known he had done, even when it seemed to be simply naughty, a child’s mischief. I included all you had told me, Saxan, for I know you do not lie. Oh, I know Botolf does not lie either, but he had never seen Cecil try to kill him face to face. The murder attempts were all made by others. When I was done, the image before me was chilling. My excuses no longer worked to dispel this view of Cecil, and I knew it was the true Cecil that I saw.

  “Then I had to battle my guilt. Nay,” she said when both Botolf and Saxan began to protest. “I felt it was my fault, as any mother does when a child goes wrong, when bad blood appears in her brood. That battle was a hard one, but I won it. The evil that is Cecil is none of my doing. Mayhap God felt it was time that the Lavingtons were put through a trial. I know not save that it is not my fault.

  “It was as I wondered which way to step that Edric arrived. When I saw him, my first thought was that here, too, Cecil had hurt me, for ’twas Cecil who had made me turn from all Edric offered. I was asking an honorable man to turn from his duty or turn from me, for I would not be able to forgive his ending the evil that is Cecil.”

  “I was most surprised that Elizabeth had allowed him in,” Botolf said quietly.

  “Ah, well, Edric used what I call his coaxing voice, and it is a potent tool. Even Elizabeth says she had opened the door to him e‘er she knew what she was doing. He then used it on me, for shame held me in my room. ’Tis hard to face the world when you know you have been a fool and all have pandered to that. Do not deny that they did, Botolf, for I know otherwise.”

  “No one wished to hurt you,” he explained.

  Lady Mary nodded. “I know, but I saw that, by soothing my feelings, you did not protect yourself as you should have or could have. Edric convinced me that mothers, aye, even fathers, are allowed to be fools for their children, that everyone understands that and would ne’er fault me for it. He talked to me most sternly for a time.”

  Botolf felt compelled to return his mother’s smile and noticed that Saxan did as well. He could see the glow of happiness on his mother’s face and hear the love she held for Edric in her voice. For one brief moment he tasted anger. How could she love another man after his father? Was it not rather soon after his father’s death for her heart to be captured by another?

  Inwardly, he laughed away those thoughts. His mother needed love—and that of a man not only that of a child. She could not gain the warmth she needed from a memory. He was honestly happy for her, pleased that in her later years she would have the love of a good man.

  “Well, Edric showed me that I need not hide away, that everyone understood,” Lady Mary continued. “He showed me that I need not lend a hand nor even listen much to what must be done about Cecil. I must simply accept it. That is what I will do. I know what must be done and I accept it. In my heart and mind, Cecil is dead. The child I nurtured at my breast is no more. I but await the time when his body is brought home for burial. I do ask that that be done, Botolf.”

  “I will see to it. I swear it,” Botolf vowed.

  “Thank you. Well, I had best go and ready myself. ’would never do for me to be late to my own wedding.”

  After Lady Mary left, Saxan sighed. “It must still be very hard for her.”

  “Of a certain,” Botolf agreed. “But she has accepted the situation, and that is a heavy burden lifted from my shoulders.”

  “Aye, now your hands are free and you need not fear that each strike you take at your enemy is one that might cut your mother.”

  He nodded. “I know Cecil was to blame for all her pain. I never asked for this fight, but I have twinges of guilt.” He sighed. “There is still a large part of me that wishes no part of this.”

  “Of course you want no part of this. Cecil forces you to shed a brother’s blood to survive. I think that must be the unkindest thing he has ever done.”

  “We could argue o’er that until a new day dawns, but you are supposed to rest now.”

  After a long moment of silence, Saxan began to feel drowsy and closed her eyes, but she asked, “Do you truly accept this marriage between Edric and your mother?”

  “Aye. Mother needs a husband. That is where her happiness truly lies. So, too, is Edric a man I like and respect. I know he will cherish her.” He smiled when he felt Saxan grow lax against him, her breathing slowing as sleep conquered her. “Mother needs more than to live for her son and his family.”

  “Uncle will make her happy. You will see.”

  “I already have.”

  Saxan was groggy when she was awakened by Botolf, but she struggled out of bed to prepare for the wedding. She grew more alert as she bathed and dressed with Jane’s help. Soon the joy and excitement of the event began to infect her. By the time Botolf escorted her to the small chapel, the last vestiges of her weariness had faded and she gaily looked forward to the celebration.

  The wedding ceremony itself was brief, but Saxan thought it was beautiful. She dabbed at the tears in her eyes and ignored Botolf’s grin as they left the chapel and returned to the great hall for the festivities. As she sat with Botolf at the head table, the mood of the guests told her that the celebration would be long and hearty. She decided to take things very carefully so that she could enjoy as much of it as possible before tiring.

  She smiled at her sister Denu as the woman sat down next to h
er. “ ’Tis wonderful that you were able to come, Denu. I am sorry that the children could not join you.”

  “The weather is too uncertain at this time of the year,” Denu said. “I dared not let them travel in it.”

  “Of course. Do you know, I was most surprised that you and Thomas came. I was almost certain that Tuesday would. She almost always wins the toss of the dice.”

  “Aye, she does, the slattern,” Denu agreed with a grin. “She had no chance of winning this time.”

  “No chance? How so?”

  “The dice were weighted in my favor.”

  Botolf destroyed his pretense of not listening to their conversation by joining in their laughter. Every one of the Todds had that spirit he realized. Despite years of marriage and a growing brood of children, the impish light still shone in Denu’s fine eyes. He mused that, with such relatives, his life would never again be dull.

  “ ’Tis good of you to take Pitney in as you have, m’lord,” said Denu.

  “A man would have to be a complete fool to ignore one who has so completely proven his valor and loyalty, Mistress Denu,” Botolf replied.

  “Pitney does have a lot of that,” Denu said with obvious pride, then smiled at Saxan. “I may use my dice to insure that I am the first to see your child. ’Tis so hard to believe. You show very little.”

  “Did your belly round quickly then?” asked Saxan.

  Denu giggled. “We-ell, not my belly, but nearly all the rest of me.”

  “Ah, my dearling, have you missed your man?” Thomas murmured as he came up beside Denu and kissed the back of her neck.

  “You have swilled too much ale,” Denu scolded as she disentangled herself from his hold. “Have you greeted his lordship, our host?”

  Thomas sat next to his wife, his back to the table, and leaned on his elbows. He smiled at Botolf. “Greetings, your lordship.”

  Botolf grinned and nodded a return to the lazy salutation. A great deal of nonsensical banter ensued, and Botolf enjoyed every minute of it. He realized suddenly that he had enlarged his family tenfold when he married Saxan. There was no lessening of the respect due to a man of his high position, but there was an open friendliness easily extended to him. He was considered one of the family now, a member of the large affectionate clan, and he liked it.