The Troubadour's Romance

by Robyn Carr

  “Will you tell me?”

  He sighed and drew her near. “Let us have done with this unpleasant matter of Boltof. We need Vespera’s help, and I would not betray her confidence now and send her fleeing away from Segeland. Later, my love. Later.”

  ***

  Vespera sighed and leaned heavily against the cool stone wall in the dark gallery. She appeared brave, yet within she trembled, for although she tried not to let it show, this creeping about to eavesdrop frightened her. Her worries were twofold: that she would be discovered and hurt, or discovered and therefore unable to help Felise and Royce set Boltof’s plan awry.

  Vespera approached fifty years. She was no longer as agile, as quick. She felt far too old for adventures such as this and had never in her youth had the courage to take so many chances. Were it not for Felise, were it not so critical, she would have melted into the darkest corner and quietly ignored all these conspiracies.

  Royce had painstakingly recited his story for her, going over each detail from the day he met Boltof, through his affair with Celeste and the plot of her seduction, and all the circumstances surrounding Aylworth’s death. All through this story his young wife had sat possessively at his side. She alternately widened her eyes in surprise, flushed in embarrassment, and pinched her mouth in white-lipped rage. She affectionately placed her hand on his thigh, stroked his arm, or smoothed his tunic over his broad shoulders.

  Vespera forced herself to ignore these intimate ministrations and focus on Royce’s words. Royce meant for her to know all so that her listening and watching could be more effective. And his information had certainly enlightened her. But the one thing that had struck her hardest when she left his chamber was the knowledge that Royce and Felise truly belonged to each other now. Vespera knew her time in Segeland would be over with Boltof’s downfall.

  In these short months she enjoyed the pride of watching her daughter succeed where many a weaker maid would have failed. Felise was all that Vespera prayed she would grow to be--strong, beautiful, bright, and wise. When so many ills could have befallen this child, the angels had cared for her and bestowed her with her mother’s quiet, gentle, for her and bestowed her with her mother’s quiet, gentle, and pleasing nature and her sire’s strength and determination.

  However sad the prospect of saying good-bye, Vespera had done what she had intended to do. The lands in Aquitaine were settled on her heir and she could have a comfortable retirement. Felise had a husband strong and true and would be safe in Royce’s care. Vespera was too timid to claim maternity, which would require explaining that when Felise was a mere six months old she had given her into Eleanor’s care and became a resident of Fontevrault. Felise had parents in the Scelfton household and might only resent having been abandoned by her natural mother. It was better to be a servant, one who would soon depart with fond farewells and genuine appreciation and affection on both sides of the relationship.

  After Boltof, Vespera took a breath and slithered along the walls toward an antechamber through which she would find back stairs. The conversation she had overheard in Lady Celeste’s room had finally revealed some of Boltof’s plan. But poor Celeste! The woman had such foolhardy delusions. Vespera feared for her.

  “He asks us to leave his house by Sunday next,” Boltof had whispered. “So it is before Sunday that we must act.”

  Vespera had delivered linens and was busily pulling them tight on the bed. Knowing they would not speak farther with her in the room, Vespera finally fluffed the cover onto the bed and, lowering her gaze, crept quietly out of the room, gently closing the door.

  She had dashed around the corner to look up and down the long, dark hallway and then back to the door, pressing her ear against the stout portal.

  “I won’t do it,” Celeste cried. “He has warned me to deny you if you would have me seduce him. He will not come to my chamber at night. He won’t.”

  “He will if you tell him you will betray me,” Boltof said. “Claim secrecy for that. Promise to tell him how I plan to steal his bride. Royce will fear this, for his own mother was a stolen bride and he knows well it can be done. Lure him to your chamber when the moon has set and no servants are about to overhear.

  “I will excuse myself to Daventry to meet a friend and promise to return for you on Sunday. But I won’t go. I will wait in the north glen, where I can’t be seen, and I will return to find him in your rooms. It will goad the Lady Felise to have her husband take his lover under her nose.”

  “Nay, he will deny it,” she insisted. “And how will you enter the keep? Sir Trumble will admit no one after the sun has set.”

  “I might show Trumble my lame horse and plead a spoiled sojourn. He would let me in. And I will send a message to Wharton so that he is ready with men and horses should Royce attack me. You see, Celeste. It will work.”

  “How? How will Felise take you over Royce now? Even if he comes to my chambers, he won’t come to my bed. How do you hope to make Felise believe that we are again lovers?”

  “Leave that to me, Celeste. You have little reason to doubt me. Had the king not commanded Royce in this marriage, you would be his wife now.”

  “But it is done,” she had retorted.

  Boltof’s voice had become threatening and deep. “I promised you a hearty groom with an inheritance, and I have not failed you yet. He had his family lands, you had him, and now Henry delays us, but we are not finished. If you can only get him into this room, I will do the rest. You will do as I say.”

  There was no sound from within the room and Vespera moved silently down the hall toward the back stairs where she could flee unnoticed. She didn’t know exactly what Boltof planned, but perhaps the whole of it rested in the message he would send to Wharton. She hoped that would tell more of the story, for however naive Celeste was, Vespera did not believe Boltof would use arms against Royce to get what he wanted.

  She had little doubt that Boltof had killed Royce’s brother. Boltof had promised himself a rich brother-in-law and saw his chance in the quarrel between Wharton and Aylworth. He had covered his involvement well in his defense of Royce. Sir Wharton, she surmised, would be very interested to know how Boltof would have sacrificed him. She moved quickly down the stairs, through the cookery, and bade to the hall. There she gathered several logs for the hearth and ventured up the front stairs toward Felise’s chamber as if delivering firewood. As she paused to knock on the chamber door, Boltof came down the gallery on his way to the stairs.

  “My lord?” she questioned shyly, not looking directly at him. “I go to Coventry two days hence to purchase wool for my lady’s looms. She bade me ask if there is some trinket the lady Celeste desires. Can I buy something for the lady’s journey?”

  Boltof thought quietly for a moment. “I will ask the lady,” he said, turning to descend the stairs.

  Vespera nodded and turned back toward Felise’s door.

  “You,” Boltof beckoned, getting her attention again. “You are the lady’s scribe?” he asked coyly.

  “Nay, messire,” she replied quietly. “I serve her chamber. I cannot read.” Then she looked up at him and tried a shy smile. “But I can count sums and never yield the wrong coin in barter.”

  “Ah,” he said. “If I give you coins for a lighter mantle for Lady Celeste’s journey, do you think you can buy it without error?”

  “Aye, messire. I have done so many times. I often purchase clothing for my lady.”

  “‘Tis well. And if I allow a small sum for your trouble, could you take a letter to a priest there?”

  “Aye, sir. I have seen the church.”

  “I know the priest; he was a friend of my father’s. I will give some thought to a letter for him, since I have made no effort to visit the man. Perhaps I will send him monies for the church. Find me before you leave.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  As she turned again to Felise’s door, she hid her face that Boltof would not see her sly smile.

  ***

  Royce lin
gered over large pieces of cloth on which he had inked a replica of his lands, his house and walls, and the road to Coventry. He tried to judge where Boltof would hide in wait. In the morning Vespera would leave with three horsed escorts for Coventry, although Royce did not like the idea of her bearing a message to Trothmore meant for Wharton. He thought it too dangerous. But she had approached Boltof and gained his trust before he could stop her. And it seemed that Boltof was not at all suspicious of Vespera.

  Vespera leaned over his shoulder. “There is something of Boltof’s plan we do not know. He has ridden the perimeters of your land and must know a way to enter without Trumble’s knowledge.”

  “The wall is well repaired,” Royce argued.

  “Ropes?” she asked.

  “He would risk being seen. That cannot be his way.”

  Vespera sighed in frustration. “I cannot see how he has convinced Celeste that the trap of finding you in her chambers will make you appear her lover. A sleeping herb in your wine? Does he mean to hide within her rooms and strike you down, disrobe you, and put you in her bed?”

  “He uses Celeste in some way, but not as a seductress, I assure you. I am as confused as you,” Royce said.

  “Perhaps he truly plans to abduct Felise, and have Wharton’s help waiting outside the gate,” Vespera attempted.

  “Nay, though she will be well guarded just the same. There are two things we know of Boltof. He is very patient; he is content to plot and wait, using Trothmore to attack one part of my reputation while he and Wharton weaken my hold on Felise and her dowry. Even so serious a thing as excommunication from the church takes many months.

  “And Boltof thinks himself clever, but he knows he is limited in warring skills and muscle. The man avoids any direct battle and would not steal away my wife and live with the threat that I would find him ... and kill him.”

  He looked into Vespera’s worried eyes. “Whatever he plans, madam, he will attempt in the dark of night when no one knows. That is why I am certain he lies to Celeste and hopes to enter Segeland unseen, leaving the same way.” A twinkle crept into his eyes. “But I, too, know darkness well. I am almost as skilled in this as you.”

  “I cannot help you from Coventry, my lord,” she said, worried.

  “When you leave here to seek Wharton, you are done with Boltof. When you return, you will find him chained, dead, or gone.”

  “Have a care, Royce,” she whispered.

  “If there is no opportunity to read his letter to Coventry before you leave Segeland ...”

  “I know what to do, my lord,” she replied confidently.

  “And I won’t rest until I determine how he plans to enter the hall unseen, for I too am certain of his treachery.”

  A knock at the door interrupted them and Vespera quietly left Royce’s room to enter Felise’s chamber. She would not allow any intruder to see her in the lord’s chamber.

  Royce carefully folded the pieces of cloth and placed them in his coffer before allowing anyone to enter.

  Sir Hewe opened the door. “Another visitor, Royce. It is the old lord, Orrick. He approaches the gate, alone.”

  “Orrick? Why the devil ...”

  He could not believe that Lord Orrick would conspire with Boltof. That would come as too much of a shock. From the moment his suspicions had been raised, he had decided that Aswin knew nothing of his stepson’s plotting. He couldn’t imagine what this visit meant and took himself quickly down the road toward the gate, determined to intercept him.

  Lord Orrick was easy to identify, for he rode poorly and without any assist. He held the reins with his one good hand, the other, gnarled, against his side. Both feet were in the stirrups, but Royce knew that one leg was useless. It was madness for him to ride any distance alone, without servants or guards. He was helpless should the horse need a stronger command and completely vulnerable if any brigands attacked him. Royce met him before he was far into the town and approached him, frowning his suspicion and his displeasure.

  “Lord Orrick,” he said. “Will you dismount?”

  The old lord, usually pleasant and even jovial in spite of his handicaps, was glowering blackly. “They are here, are they not?” he growled.

  “My lord?”

  “Celeste and her brother. They are not at home, nor in London, nor have they left word about their travels.” His eyes were narrowed to slits, his gray hair tousled from days of difficult riding, his clothes torn and dirty. He turned from Royce and spit into the dust. “Those two are bent on making trouble.”

  Royce let his features relax somewhat. “My lord,” he breathed, reaching up to his friend to help him dismount. “You should not have come. I have the trouble in hand and watch Boltof carefully.” He braced Aswin against his body and carefully lowered him to the ground.

  Aswin held his weight on his good side and searched his saddle for the staff he had tucked under the leather straps. Once found, he leaned on that and cursed the horse. “Damned beast has not a breath of compassion for a cripple. I’ll turn him into soup!” He looked back at Royce. “I warned them to let the matter be, but I knew as I looked at the boy’s sullen mouth that he would not. And though I’d have had it otherwise, since her mother died, Celeste will hear only Boltof. And he seldom wishes her well.”

  “I thought you supported Boltof.”

  “I have tried to be a good elder for the boy, but he will take no example from me. He was against Dulcine’s marriage to me because it delayed his inheritance from his true father. And since then he has only spoken kindly to me when in the presence of others or if there is something he needs. He is in a hurry for his way.”

  Royce studied the old lord for a moment. “You did not encourage them to come here?”

  “Blood of Christ, never! I was sorry for Celeste, but years ago I knew she was not the woman for you. When you made free with her affections for so long, I did the father’s part as I must and pushed you toward marriage. Aye, Royce, I knew you were too involved with my stepdaughter. But truth, it was more that I wished to find a son in you than a husband for Celeste.” He spat again, clearing the dust from his throat and the disgust from his words. “I never could reason your attraction to her. Felise is the daughter of one of my closest friends. I would not rise against Harlan for any reason. I only wish the lass well.”

  “But you endorsed Boltof to Lord Harlan,” Royce said.

  Aswin shook his head almost sadly. “I had never had such high hopes as those I suddenly enjoyed when I dined with Harlan’s family. Do you see this old man’s dreams? Those two whelps could bring two fine children into my home. I could have you through Celeste, and the Lady Felise might have turned the worst of Boltof into a proper knight. I had no right, Royce, but still I wished to do honor to Dulcine by helping her children.” He shrugged. “My disappointment at losing you equaled Celeste’s, I vow. But I would not allow those two to plot against Henry’s order. The king is wiser than I allowed.”

  Royce chuckled. He should have known it was foolish to distrust this man even for a moment. He looked over his shoulder and saw that they were still far from the hall. They had paused beside Ulna’s modest house. “Come, Aswin. Let us hide you quickly. The widow Ulna will give you a proper meal.”

  “Hide me? Take me to yon hall and I’ll rid the place of serpents!”

  “We have much to discuss before you next meet your stepchildren. It appears that I was alone in trusting them.”

  “By damn, ‘tis a pity. Dulcine was a good and kind woman. But she failed with those two. I hope I am not too late.”

  “I hope no one has seen you, for your arrival could dampen Boltof’s courage. He has a mighty plan afoot here. There is only one way I can catch him: I must let him try to see it through.”

  “How can I help you?” the old lord asked.

  “First, you must get out of sight,” he said, smiling. “And next, you must give me a great deal of time to explain.”

  Eighteen

  Vespera rose early on the d
ay of her trip to Coventry to make preparations. After a light morning meal, she went to Celeste’s chamber and knocked on the door. She was not surprised to find Boltof already within, although she had wondered if Celeste would be the one to give her the message to carry. He greeted Vespera warmly, putting his most courtly manners on display for her.

  “It is good of you to offer these services, madam.” He smiled. “My sister is most appreciative.”

  Vespera looked at Celeste, who sat meekly on a stool near the bed. It was obvious by her drawn features that she had become exhausted and frightened. She wondered how badly Boltof threatened and abused his sister to force her to follow his instructions.

  “Does my lady have a preference for the color of cloak?” she asked.

  “Nay,” Celeste replied solemnly, barely raising her eyes. “Anything will do.”

  Vespera looked at Celeste with pity. Her appearance had changed remarkably from what it had been at Windsor, when she had stood erect and proud. Though plain, she had possessed an inner glow when she was full on the devotion of Royce. Now, rejected, she seemed to be dying inside. She had only Boltof now.

  “Come, Celeste,” Boltof insisted happily. “A deep green, to darken your eyes and set off the gold of your hair? A royal purple? Blue?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, you see the lady’s skin is fair and her eyes are blue. Do you think you can find a mantle that will both enhance her beauty and liven her spirits?”

  “I will try, messire. How much would you like me to spend?”

  He shook a bag of silver and placed it in her hands. Vespera could tell by the weight that it was a generous sum. She let her eyes widen accordingly so these two would think they had bought themselves a good servant. “The sum is less important than the piece. It must be rich and worthy of my sister’s beauty. You may keep what is left for yourself. And if it would not be too much trouble for you, I have carefully written this short letter to my father’s friend, the Coventry priest.” He pressed a small scroll into her hand.