The Troubadour's Romance

by Robyn Carr

  Celeste only nodded a bit forlornly, trying to smile. Felise looked suspiciously out of the corner of her eye and saw Boltof’s frown of displeasure.

  “Your journey has been a long one,” Felise said. “Sir Hewe, if you will show our guests to their chambers, I will instruct the cooks to prepare a gallant fare for their evening meal.”

  “Aye, it is a long ride to Segeland,” Boltof said, looking around the hall and judging its worth. “And I am tired and hungry.” He bowed over the lady’s hand. “You will find us better company after a short rest, madam. My thanks.”

  Boltof took his sister’s hand and led her, behind Sir Hewe, up the stairs. Felise watched them each step of the way. Many unusual things confused her. The one thing that she had quickly determined was that they were not here to secure her friendship, however much it looked that way. She did not think she could voice her suspicions to Royce, should he return during their visit. But she heartily hoped for his swift return.

  She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Vespera also watching the couple ascend the stairs. Hers was not a perplexed frown, but a black scowl.

  “Madam,” Felise whispered, “you are most certainly a soothsayer. How did you guess they would come?”

  Vespera continued to look at the staircase, although the visitors were out of sight. A certain fury flickered across her brow and she did not answer Felise. “They are about trouble,” Vespera finally said.

  “That is fact,” Felise said. “The journey from Lord Orrick’s home would take days, especially with a woman of Celeste’s delicacy. Yet they are clean and appear rested. They have not traveled far. And Boltof would have me believe they were unaware of Sir Royce’s absence. In my heart I know Boltof wished to arrive here while I was much alone. Does some army of knights perhaps wait in yon glen to attack us?”

  “We will set Sir Trumble to survey the land, but I trust he will find nothing. Boltof is clever.”

  “Vespera, does Boltof bring his sister to tempt Sir Royce from me?”

  “Nay, I think not. That fair dame could not seduce the saddle off a horse.”

  “But Royce admits he loved her deeply.”

  “You mistook him, surely. Nay, whatever Boltof intends here, he does not use Celeste as a temptress.”

  Felise’s whisper was soft and carried the edge of fear. “Vespera, do they mean me harm?” Vespera’s eyes met Felise’s. “If I am dead, my dower lands belong to Royce. Mayhap my husband would share the wealth with his former betrothed and her brother.”

  Vespera took a deep breath and looked closely into Felise’s eyes, meaning to have her words carried home to the young woman’s heart. “If they planned to come here to bring you to doubt your husband, already they have success. Be wary, Felise. Royce is ofttimes a surly man, but he has shown his concern for you and cannot prefer the lady Celeste. Even should such a horror tempt the skittish groom, the men of Twyford would not let him live if harm came to you from any quarter. Rest easy on that and let yourself trust your man. He did not call Boltof to Segeland.”

  Felise nodded but continued to fret, for she couldn’t fathom the purpose of this visit. Her insides told her it did not bode well for them.

  Vespera patted her hand. “We will watch him, lass. He dare not touch a hair on your head. Until Royce returns to us, his loyal vassals will keep guard.”

  Felise nodded bravely. “I am wishing that Maelwine had but moved the mighty bolts and locks to the inside of my chamber doors.”

  Vespera’s eyes wandered about the room, though she looked at nothing in particular. “Your safety will be attended to,” she said distractedly. “Be wary, love, but do not be frightened. You have snared the wolf in your own den, and though he does not know it, he is much at our mercy now.”

  Fifteen

  Royce drove himself hard toward Segeland, taking far more risks than he was wise in doing. He had tampered with the absolute trust of his men by pushing them so hard and making such feeble excuses for the speed of their travel.

  He left three men to stay in London in wait upon King Henry with many pages of revenue descriptions, maps, and intricate details about the de Raissa lands, not wishing nor seeing reason to stay himself, and took those remaining on a heartlessly bold trek toward his manse. “While the weather is dry and clear, we must make use of it,” he had said, although he knew well that any journey at night was less wise than day movement through a rainstorm. He compromised the costly destriers on which they rode by chancing their stepping into a shallow hole or fatally slipping down a concealed crevice.

  “I’ve been too long away, and there is much to be done at Segeland,” he said, knowing it was his curiosity about Vespera and whether Felise was still there that drove him. He had thought to stumble upon a traveling tryst, as most knights on sojourn are apt to do, but no village wench, inn maid, or harlot coerced his mood. Not even the bold ones tickled any desire within him.

  He had not wanted to return to Segeland with the rush of uncontrollable desire he felt, for he thought it a dangerous notion. He hoped he could restrain his lust and approach her with a husbandly concern. But what if he should find her gone? Or angry, after his long absence? Or her brothers worse in their hovering?

  “My lord, a half day’s journey on the morrow would see us within the town walls by midday,” one of his men declared, the complaining tone clear in his voice.

  But returning under the cover of night did not distress Royce, for should Felise be within her chamber asleep, he would not be above creeping past her brothers to wake her. His calculations put him at Segeland just before midnight, when all manor residents would be soundly sleeping. The darkness had suited him well before, and it would serve him now. And with that, he would not have to view much of the keep that depressed his spirit so.

  Rousing Sir Trumble’s attention to open the gate had proven simple enough, for that trusty soul would let no lesser knight keep this post in the dark hours. And after dismissing his men to the stables, Royce found the hall to be open. There were no bars necessary if Trumble held the wall. He smiled in satisfaction at this, for what he lacked in material things he certainly could equal in the competence and loyalty of his men.

  He knelt before the hearth in the main room and placed two dry logs atop the smouldering embers, blowing up the flames. He would at least take the chill off his body before investigating the lady’s chamber for whatever desserts lay within.

  Pulling his mail and hauberk off and flinging them aside, he noticed the room only when the fire had brightened. It had become a warm and tasteful place, with tapestries hung, candles placed about in metal and wood holders, chairs and tables completely repaired and in some cases rebuilt and polished with oil. In addition to herbed rushes on the ground, there were skins and rugs. Handsomely crafted pitchers and bowls stood in useful decoration on the tables. He smiled in equal parts of pride and relief. These small indications of Felise’s continued perseverance pleased him well.

  A certain melancholy settled over him, for there had been a time when he had rejected this hall. And later, after Aylworth’s death when this belonged to him, he could barely bring himself to visit the place. But now, with Felise working to make it a home any man would be proud of, he was changed.

  He nearly laughed at himself, for the decor of the room and the implication of her presence caused his manhood to swell against his chausses. He was aroused before even setting eyes on her.

  “Welcome, my lord.”

  He turned toward the stairway to find Vespera descending, holding a candle to light her way through the dark passages. She wore her drab and modest dressing robe over a nightdress and her hair was conspicuously covered. Royce had never known a woman to dress for bed with veils or wimples. Was her dark nun’s costume a ritual, deception, or simply the only garb she owned?

  He bowed. “Madam. Does my lady sleep?”

  “Aye, my lord. Would you have me wake her?”

  “Nay, ‘tis you I wanted to see, in any event. An
d I have no hesitation in waking her myself.”

  She came down the few remaining steps into the room, a knowing look on her face.

  “How did you find Aquitaine?” she asked.

  “You’ve kept it quite well.”

  Her breath came out in a relieved sigh. “Jasper is a talented castellan. I hope you plan to retain him.”

  “Is that decision mine, lady?” he asked, pointedly using a worthy title in his conversation with her.

  “‘Tis yours through your lady wife,” she said gently. Her eyes glowed with an emotion that Royce had never seen before. She seemed pleased. But in looking at the tenderness of her expression, he realized that this was one of the few times he had had a full view of her face. She had concealed herself all this time with a mask of modesty and shyness, either intentionally or by rote. She had kept her eyes cast away from perusal, her face turned from inspection. All had considered her habits nunlike, when possibly she had only been inclined toward mystery. Now, as she let him view her face fully, her eyes open to him, he could see why. If he imagined fiery gold hair beneath her veil, he could see a strong resemblance, especially in the mouth and eyes. This was Felise’s natural mother.

  “Have you told her?” he asked.

  “Nay.”

  “Why not?”

  “I could not find the way. And I cannot see what purpose would be served.”

  “But yet you have involved yourself in her life far beyond anyone’s imaginings, lady. And you’ve stayed protectively close.”

  “I had imagined all these years since she was taken from me that I might supervise her in some way. Now I see she is fit, and I may retire to Fontevrault.” She paused and looked at him earnestly. “Jasper will not speak of me further if I ask him not to,” she added. “It is safe to take Felise to view her grandfather’s lands.”

  Royce couldn’t help but ponder the reason for her secretiveness. “But you have allowed me to gain knowledge of this arrangement.”

  “Messire, it was never my intention to deceive you. Had there been a better way for you to know the truth, I would have told you all. Do you feel tricked? Nay, you are not. It is all very simple and just--you are the only choice for Lady Felise, the only possible man for her. As she is the only woman for you. There are no others, nor could there ever be.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, peering at her. “How so, lady?”

  “The knowledge may little please you,” she attempted.

  He gave a sharp nod, and, mostly out of habit, his eyes grew fierce in demand for an answer. She did not shrink from his scowl, but smiled easily. “I saw you kiss her.” A light flush marked her cheeks, but her embarrassment seemed not to be linked with the confession, but perhaps more with what she had viewed. “The cold gallery grew warm in the moment.” She shrugged lightly. “‘Twas not the heat of a man’s lust alone that stirred me, but the glow of both man and woman, intent on each other.”

  Royce thought perhaps he might blush as well, and commanded himself to remain in cool appraisal of this situation. He leaned against the nearest table and looked at her curiously. He remembered the moment, and in his mind the memory of a presence watching them was almost as clear as the softness of his wife’s supple form as he held her. “I think it possible, madam, that you felt more of that kiss than I.”

  “Not so,” she said. “I spent my life singing of such passions as I saw that day, and I know it comes but once in each life. I would not have it pass Lady Felise as it has others.”

  He understood immediately what had moved her. This was her own story of love lost--lost but for the child that came of it.

  “And so you witnessed a brief encounter in a gallery and took the reins and made a match. This is your custom?” he asked in a slightly teasing voice.

  “Never before and never again, kind sir,” she said, an equal mirth in her voice. “But I felt the need to know who this bold knight who fondled the demoiselle might be. Those few I know well enough to trust approved you above all others. I know your road has been one of hardship, but you are not alone in that. Many have grown strong because of their troubles. And I never believed every Leighton must be afflicted,” she said, shaking her head. “Not any more than I can be made to believe that a bastard child should be scorned and held away from family love.” Her eyes glowed as if from some inner knowledge as she looked at him. “I think you are lucky to have each other, and with each other, you may accomplish many good things.”

  “What of her family?” he asked.

  “Ah, the Scelftons.” She smiled. “They have endorsed her every whim. They deserve her continued devotion. That they have not warmed to you yet does not mean they do not accept you. Tis a well-known fact that Lord Scelfton chafes at any interference with his family. He’ll come around.”

  “Who among us knows the truth?” he asked.

  She let her gaze drop for the first time since they began their quiet talk. “I came quickly to trust Lady Edrea, feeling a debt to her for all she has done for Felise. ‘Twas I who asked the king to name you. To work with Henry is better than to work against him, and in this I have been well schooled. But I could not allow this to frighten Lady Edrea. I made my confession to her and explained away as many of her fears as I could. She is a strong woman--so wise and good. I am certain she has confided in her husband by now, but I fear not soon enough, for the Scelfton knights irritated your humor sorely.”

  “Where do those worthies sleep?” he asked, his voice growing piqued just at the reminder of them.

  “At Wyford, my lord. They have long since departed.”

  “Ah,” he said, the scorn heavy in his voice. “When the wolf was gone and the lamb could not be assaulted, they ceased in their ardent protection.”

  “That was not the way of it,” she argued. “But your lady wife may have a better explanation for you than I.”

  “Just one thing, lady. Will you name her father?”

  She shook her head. “If there were any need, I would not withhold that from you. But it serves only my shame to name him. Rest assured he is a noble sire and there is no reason to be wary of future generations. If I named him to you, you would be well pleased with the strength of his blood, but I beg you not to ask it of me. Some pain still comes of my sin.”

  He shook his head in some delighted confusion. “I don’t know, lady, whether to thank you or cast you out. I have never liked being meddled with to this extent, regardless of the intention.”

  “I need no thanks and it will not be necessary to cast me out. Tis time I returned to my home. I will soon leave Segeland, when there is no further need for me here.” She turned quietly away, as if to go back to her bed. Then turning back to him, she spoke softly. “I waited for your return, my lord, to be assured that you knew everything due you. I meant you no injury and would only see you prosper ... and with you, your young wife. Please believe this to be truth.”

  Royce took two large steps, took the candle from her hand, and held her elbow. He looked down into her eyes, gentleness and understanding in his. “Stay, Lady Veronique,” he whispered. “I won’t tell her.”

  She smiled at the sympathy. “I fear I shall never leave if I allow myself to stay now. And this is my place for only a short while longer.

  He escorted her up the first step, planning to light her way up the stairs. “It becomes more your place with each day, lady. And should you choose to tell Felise the truth, I think she would be pleased.”

  Vespera stopped sharply and looked at him with a pained expression. “Ah! But do you not see, Royce? When your heart aches with love, just the fear of having it thrust away is enough to frighten the boldest from spilling their simple truth.”

  He gently touched her cheekbone with his knuckle. “Surely, dearest lady, we were born under twin stars,” he whispered.

  “We share many things, Royce.” She smiled. “The most important being our love for yon lady. Keep her well, I beg you.”

  As they gained the top of the s
tairs, a shadow caused Royce to stiffen. A man stood outside his wife’s door. Sir Hewe came out of the darkness and his sleepy face shone in the candlelight.

  “You guard her door as she sleeps?” Royce questioned, his hackles rising as he considered the need for this.

  Vespera quickly touched his arm. “Did you not order Sir Hewe to keep the lady safe beyond all question?” She looked pointedly at Hewe. “The knight does you honor as your vassal, my lord, for he does not rest even when all seems at ease. But now you are home, Sir Hewe can light me to my chamber and you may rest beside your wife to make sure she is well and safe.” She took the candle from Royce’s hand and gave it to Hewe. “You will wish to sleep, and Sir Hewe can speak to you on the morrow. That is soon enough to discuss estate affairs, is it not?”

  “My lord,” Hewe began, seemingly ready to launch into a long discussion, but he stopped abruptly and smiled. “The morrow is soon enough,” he finally said. He took Vespera’s arm and led her away down the hall, leaving Royce outside Felise’s door.

  When Felise’s chamber door softly opened, the hearth vents high on the wall created a cool breeze and she stirred, sleepily wondering why Vespera shuffled around in the darkness. She murmured softly in her sleep and pulled the quilt more tightly around her.

  Perhaps because of her depth of sleep, the touch of a hand on her hair did not startle her. She rolled in half-sleep and looked up at him, breathing his name.

  “Royce.”

  She saw his large physique and tousled hair in profile above her, and at her sleepy sigh, he lowered himself to sit on the bed. A single candle barely lit the room from near the door and his image was dark. But she would have known his touch, scent, and silhouette in the blackest cavern. “I am sorry to disturb you,” he whispered.