Eleanor sighed. Perhaps these thoughts were nothing but the imaginings of a pregnant woman. Perhaps she’d only been silly and judged Richard unjustly. She smiled at the priest, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. “I thank you, Father. You’ve been very kind.”
“Not at all, my child.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Come to me at once if you have any other fears, any other suspicions.”
Eleanor glanced away, slightly embarrassed. She was surprised to see Sir Walter’s tall figure loping across the grass in her direction.
When he reached her, he bowed. “Lady, Lord Richard sent me to take you back to your lodgings, and to collect a few articles of clothing for him. He goes with the king and Lord William.”
“Goes?” Eleanor echoed. “Where is he going?”
“To Runnymede, my lady. It’s a meadow not far from here. But there both sides shall meet for the final negotiations. And pray God”—here he broke off and nodded at the priest—“that they make peace. For if they do not, I fear there will be war.”
CHAPTER 22
The hour was late and the tavern was dark when Richard rode his horse into the courtyard. A sleepy stable boy stumbled out of the gloom and reached for the reins with a mumble. Richard entered the common room and made his way to the room where Eleanor slept. In the moonlight, he could see her hair spilling out over the pillow. Her bare shoulders gleamed above the sheet. A little breeze blew in from the open window, and she stirred, pulling the sheet higher. He could see the curve of her hip beneath the sheet.
A wave of need, and longing, and something else swept over him. She was wary of him ever since he’d spoken so indiscreetly. How would she react if—when—he told her the truth?
He undressed slowly, shivering slightly in the late spring night, and slid naked beneath the sheet. Her body gave off a warmth, and he pressed himself against her. In her sleep, she shifted her position, molding herself to the contours of his body. He slipped an arm around her waist, and drew her close, cupping one breast in the palm of his hand. Its warm, familiar weight felt good against his skin. He rubbed the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and pressed a kiss into the nape of her neck. She stirred once more, and her round bottom pressed against his thighs. He swept the hair off her neck, and showered neck and shoulders with kisses.
He heard her breathing quicken, and he raised his head. She turned her head and looked at him.
In the moonlight her eyes were clear and blue. “Richard?” she murmured.
“I’m here.” He gathered her in his arms, and gently kissed her mouth.
“You—you’ve been gone for days.”
“I’m sorry. We never thought it would take as long as it did.”
She moved her whole body so that she was lying flat on her back. “I’m glad you’re here.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers, surrendering wholly to him. And as they moved together, Richard was aware of a profound sense of rightness and of wholeness.
Here, he thought, as their bodies rose and fell in the timeless rhythm of lovemaking, here is where I am meant to be.
In the morning, Eleanor woke to find him standing by the window, shaving. He grinned at her when he saw she was awake. “Good morning, my lady.”
For the first time in a long time, she smiled back. She was so genuinely happy to see him. Her body felt swollen and replete, and the stickiness between her thighs confirmed that they’d made love long into the night last night. “Good morning. My lord.” She bit back a giggle. “You look uncommonly happy.”
He put down the razor and patted his face dry. “I am, indeed. The great charter is signed, there is peace in the land, I have a beautiful wife, and—” He paused significantly and Eleanor wondered if he might have guessed about the coming child. But his next words startled her all the more. “And I am about to be rewarded for all my time and effort, and Hugh, that young puppy, is about to reap the reward.”
“Hugh?” Eleanor sat up and clasped her arms around her knees. “How so?”
“In between all the negotiations, I had a chance to speak to Lord William concerning the manor of Rhuthlan. And he agreed that the demesne could be split, especially since it’s about to be added to. So I will give Rhuthlan to Hugh and to Angharada s a wedding present. Hugh will not be landless, Angharad will marry Hugh, and there will be peace on the border of Wales. And,” he added with a wide grin, “at least I’ll know that my nearest neighbor, while he might despise me, is not likely to want to kill me.”
“Oh. Richard.” Eleanor said, torn between disbelief and delight, “Hugh doesn’t despise you. He—he’s only jealous. But now he’ll have nothing to be jealous about and—” She smiled at her husband. How could she have ever been so silly as to think him possessed? Truly she was a lucky woman. Whatever changes he’d gone through as a result of his accident were fortunate changes. “And I cannot quite believe it all.”
He came to the bed, picked up her hand and kissed it. “Believe it. It’s all true. Now. We must discuss a few other matters as well.”
“Oh? Such as?”
“Well, the matter of our going home. You do want to go home, don’t you?”
“Of course!”
“That’s what I told the King and Lord William.”
“They wanted you to stay?”
Richard shrugged. “They made it clear that my presence at court was not unwelcome, and that lodgings could be found for us—adequate lodgings, you understand—not just a blanket by the hearth. But I told them both that I thought that you would want to return to Barland. And I didn’t want to make any decision without speaking to you first.”
“I’m pleased and proud that they want you to stay. But it’s true I’d rather go home. If you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” He pulled her close and hugged her. “My lady, I don’t mind at all. There’s a great deal to be said about being at court, and there’s just as much to be said about not being here. So much intrigue—so many personalities to contend with—I’m sure it would wear on me quickly. I’d rather go”—he paused just for a moment—“home to Barland too.”
He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Now, you get dressed. I’ll go down and order our breakfasts, and begin to make the arrangements for our return. I see no reason to linger here any longer than is necessary.” He bounded out of the room, whistling beneath his breath.
Eleanor leaned back against the pillows and froze. That tune—what was it? It didn’t sound like anything she’d ever heard. Nonsense, she told herself. The priest was right when he’d suggested that she wasn’t familiar with all the languages in the world, even all the ones Richard could have heard in his travels in the East. And after all, she was being ridiculous if she heard devils in a harmless tune. The man was happy, for heaven’s sake. And he was trying to make her happy. Hadn’t he even told the king and his liege lord that he would have to talk to her before he would consider staying at court? And hadn’t he told them he would prefer to go back to Barland, knowing that that was likely her preference?
She got out of bed. Her belly was still flat, but her breasts were definitely swollen. Her nipples looked darker too. She would have to tell Richard soon. He would notice soon enough if she didn’t. It was good to think that they would be home long before the birth. Ursula would be thrilled to know that there was going to be a new generation for her to diaper and care for and love. She dressed as quickly as possible and went down to the common room to find Richard.
He was sitting at a table near the window, a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread before him. A serving maid placed a small wheel of cheese before him. “I’m sorry, my lord, there’s no honey, but we have new berries just picked. Would you like some of those?”
He nodded and smiled when he saw Eleanor, rising to his feet as she approached. “You look as though the night’s rest agreed with you, my lady.”
“It wasn’t the rest I got last night that agreed with me, my lord.” She to
ok a seat across from him.
He bowed and sat down. “May I pour you some milk?”
Her mouth watered. “Certainly.”
The maid came back with bowls of strawberries, red and plump and bursting with juice. Richard cut the bread into halves with his knife, and they ate contentedly, while he told her all that had happened since he’d been gone. “And Hugh,” he said. “You wouldn’t know him. All dressed in William’s livery, he looks five years older already. He’ll be home sooner than you’ll believe, Eleanor. We’ll see him before we go. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“As will he, when you tell him the news.” Eleanor popped the last of the red berries in her mouth. She reached for Richard’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Thank you? What for?” He grasped her hand in his and held it tightly. “Hugh’s my brother, too, after all. And if he wants to be married to a Welsh hellion, he’s better off sticking close to home.”
She laughed. “That’s not all I meant.”
He met her eyes. His gaze was so piercingly serious it took her breath away. “I know, my love.” He said nothing more, but their eyes held for a long moment. Then he squeezed her hand gently and released it. “I’ll send word—” He broke off and looked out the window as the sound of many horses pounding into the innyard interrupted the quiet morning.
Eleanor half rose, peering outside. Soldiers, all dressed in the colors of the king, were dismounting. They strode into the tavern and paused, blinking. Then one spoke. “Lord Richard de Lambert?”
“Yes?” Richard rose to his feet. “I am de Lambert.”
“We have a warrant for your arrest, sir. You’re to come with us at once.”
“Arrest?” Richard demanded, even as Eleanor stared from the soldiers to her husband in dismay.
“For what?” she said.
“You’re to be detained until the charges against you can be resolved, my lord.”
“What are the charges?” Richard barked.
Eleanor stared at him. He sounded like the old Richard now. His shoulders were raisid and his mouth was a thin, tight line.
“Possession, my lord,” answered the soldier. “You’ve been charged with consorting with demons.”
Eleanor slumped to the floor as the world spun away into darkness.
CHAPTER 23
“What is the meaning of this?” William, Marshal of England and Earl of Pembroke and Striguil, strode into the council chamber accompanied by six of his knights. He planted his feet at the end of the table and stared his king in the eye.
On the opposite side of the room, John looked up from his chess game. “My lord Earl. I thought I’d see you soon.”
“I haven’t disappointed you then, Your Grace.” William glared at the king. “May I know the meaning of this outrage against one of my most trusted vassals?”
John sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his chest. “Come and sit, William.”
William did not move. “I want to know why you’ve had Richard de Lambert arrested and charged with this ridiculous crime. The man was nothing but a help to us all in the last weeks, and now you turn on him? Why, Your Grace? I have a right to know why.”
John motioned to William. “Then come sit. And I’ll explain it to you.”
Across the table, Giscard Fitzwilliam got to his feet, and picked up the board. “Shall we finish later, Your Grace?”
John nodded. “Of course. But you must stay, Giscard. The Earl has questions for you, too.”
With a brief shrug, Giscard placed the chessboard on the table and bowed to the earl. “My lord.”
“Who are you?” barked William.
“Giscard Fitzwilliam, my lord.”
William eyed Giscard up and down, his lip curled with scorn. His gaze slid back to the king, who lounged beside the fire. He was tempted to speak his mind to the king, but John was flushed with victory. In this mood, the king was often capricious and given to sudden changes. And the delicate peace just forged was not something William cared to risk disturbing. He walked with measured paces to the chair Giscard had just vacated and sat down. “Now.” His voice was dangerously calm. “Why has one of the most trusted of my vassals been hauled off to prison like a common thief?”
John looked uncomfortable. “We can’t have rumors like this one flying around, William.”
“And what rumors are these, Your Grace? Exactly what are we talking about?”
John’s dark eyes slid over to Giscard, who stirred from his position at the table and cleared his throat. “Possession, my lord. There’s reason to believe that de Lambert is possessed.”
William looked shocked, and then he began to laugh. “You’re joking, right? This is an attempt to be funny.”
John shrugged, saying nothing.
“Ah, no, my lord.” Giscard looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Not at all.”
William crossed his long legs at the knee. “Oh? And what exactly is the nature of the evidence against him?”
“He’s been heard to use strange words in a language no one knows. He’s been heard to hum strange songs and tunes beneath his breath when he believes no one is listening—he revived when everyone thought him dead—”
“These are not charges, Your Grace!” William leaped to his feet. “How can you listen to such nonsense? Richard de Lambert was one of the most useful men to you in these last weeks. How could you so carelessly, callously use him this way?”
“It was his own wife who made the charge,” said the king. “Is that not so, Giscard?”
“His wife?” William looked shocked. “I saw her once or twice at Windsor. She’s the one who said these things?”
“There are others who have heard it. His own men. There are questions, William.” John stared the other man in the eye.
“I cannot believe this is true.”
“But is it not true that de Lambert distinguished himself as he never had before?” John asked. “I’ve known of him for some time—he was never a man of words and peace. He was a man of action, who lived by the sword. And died by it, too.”
“Is it not possible that de Lambert was dead, my lord?” put in Giscard. “And when he revived, it was with a demon’s spirit?”
“Faugh.” William spat into the fire. “You speak nonsense.”
“We shall see,” said the king.
William shifted his gaze to Giscard, pinning him against the table. “This makes no sense at all.” He got to his feet. “I see you are set on this, Your Grace. I want to talk to de Lambert, at least. Do you agree?”
“Of course, William.” John looked a little relieved that the interview was over. “Talk to him as much as you like. You might see for yourself why he’s been accused.”
William glanced from the king to Giscard and back again. “I shall speak to you again on this, Your Grace.” With a brief bow, he stalked out of the council chamber.
John turned to Giscard. “You’d better be right about this, my friend. This de Lambert endeared himself to William rather quickly. It isn’t quite as simple as you thought it would be, is it?”
Giscard shrugged. “Leave it to me, Your Grace. I wasn’t the one who raised the question. It was his own wife. And there are others who can testify. I promise.”
John pursed his lips. “We will see, my friend. We will see.”
The tall shadow that fell across Eleanor’s shoulder startled her. She turned, a wild, half-formed hope that it was Richard making her heart pound. She was even more surprised by the man who stood before her. William the Marshal bowed with courtly grace, his face grave. “Lady Eleanor.”
She got to her feet unsteadily, twisting her hands in the fabric of her gown. Her eyes were swollen with weeping, and she knew her skin was pasty from the long sleepless night. “My lord.” She dropped a careful curtsey.
“Sit down, lady.” His voice was sad, and he sighed. “May I sit?”
“Of—of course, my lord. You have no need of my permission.”
He gave her a sad smile
. “I came to you as soon as I heard the news, my lady. I’ve already spoken with the king.”
“And what does he say?” Eleanor said eagerly. “Does he understand how ridiculous these charges are?”
William looked even more grave. “He does not. John is superstitious. His relationship with the Church has been even thornier than his own with his barons, if such a thing were possible. He dare not offend the pope. And with this recent unrest—well, let us just say John will be more than happy to lay the blame on someone else’s door. And if he can work the devil into it in some way, all the better.”
“So you’re saying the king wants to believe that Richard is possessed by a demon? And that he is the cause of the barons’ rebellion?”
William sighed once more. “I don’t want to go that far, lady. But John is ever looking over his shoulder and under his bed for scapegoats. He doesn’t shoulder responsibility well. He never did.” William spoke with a bitter twist.
“Have you seen Richard? Will you speak to him?”
“I will, lady. But there is something I wanted to ask you about first.”
Eleanor looked down.
“The king says that you were the one who raised the issue of possession—you and some of Richard’s own men. Is this true? Do you believe him to be possessed?”
The Marshal’s steady gray gaze bore into hers. She clenched her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. There was nothing to do but to tell him the truth. She straightened her shoulders. “Did you know my husband before—before you met him in the autumn?”
William shrugged. “More by reputation. I met him when he swore fealty to me, of course, after your marriage to him. And I saw him once or twice campaigning. He was an able and worthy knight. I have to say his reputation did not at all match the man.”
“The man you met in the autumn at Pembroke?”
“Yes. The man I met at Pembroke was not what I was expecting, that is very true.”
Eleanor swallowed hard. “He’s nothing like the man I married, either.” William looked at her curiously and she hesitated.
[1997] Once and Future Love Page 19