by Anne Herries
‘Too much blood has been shed in my name,’ Katherine said and looked sad. ‘I know that you speak as you believe, my friend, and I would have had revenge for your loss—but of one man alone. The others did only as their lord bid them. I would not have had them die for my sake.’
‘Many of them were shown mercy,’ Sigmund replied. He hesitated, then, ‘Think carefully, my lady. Sir Alain is a good man and you may regret it if you shut him out of your life.’
‘I thank you for your advice,’ Katherine said, lifting her head proudly. ‘You may leave me now.’
Sigmund sighed. He had done his best, but what more could he say? If Ethel had but done his bidding and locked her in her chamber, Katherine might have been spared the horror that had wounded her tender soul.
He was sure that she had loved the man she was to marry, and it grieved him to see her suffering now. Sir Alain was suffering, too. It was there in his eyes, though he gave no outward sign. For such an honourable knight to be accused of evil by the woman he loved was indeed a heavy burden.
‘Your lord bids me tell you to prepare to leave,’ Ethel said when she came to Katherine’s chamber later that day. ‘Would you have your women begin to pack, my lady?’
‘Sir Alain is not yet my lord,’ Katherine said. ‘You may tell him that I am not yet ready to leave. Perhaps tomorrow or in a week’s time.’
Ethel hesitated, then sighed and went out. Her mistress was more stubborn than any had realised hitherto and it seemed that she was not to be persuaded into being sensible or forgiving.
‘Was that wise?’ Maria asked after the old woman had gone. ‘I would have thought you would prefer to leave this place. It can give you little satisfaction to be here.’
‘I wish I might never have to see it again,’ Katherine said with a shudder. ‘The memory of that night will always remain with me. It should not have happened, Maria—so many killed and injured…’
Maria looked at her sadly. ‘It is the way of war. You were not thus at Acre.’
‘Because I believed that a just cause,’ Katherine told her. ‘And it was only afterwards, when I saw…’ She closed her eyes as she recalled the slaughter of the family she had cared for in that fierce bloodletting. But that was something she had promised herself she would forget. ‘Our men fought for right and for God—though what happened after was something that will never be forgot.’
‘There is a beast in all men,’ Maria told her with a sigh. ‘When it is roused things are done that are afterwards regretted. King Richard hath a temper and his treatment of the hostages was a shameful act. Sir Alain is not like him. He is a gentle knight, a true knight—what he did here was for your sake. For love of you, Katherine.’
‘Do you think that makes me feel better—to know that slaughter was done in my name?’
‘You think it was slaughter because Ravenshurst’s men were taken by surprise?’ Katherine nodded and Maria sighed. ‘Do you not see that it was done to save lives—and to protect you? Had Sir Stefan and Sir Alain laid siege to this house, many more would have died. It could have gone on for weeks, causing terrible hardship for all here. At least this way, Ravenshurst’s men were given the choice to surrender. Several of them did—they would not have had that opportunity if they had been besieged. Their master would have hung any who dared to disobey him—and your own people, too, I dare say. Sir Alain dare not take the risk, for you might have been ravished or killed in revenge.’
‘You have changed your mind mightily,’ Katherine said, stung by her friend’s chiding. She knew that Maria was right and yet she could not think of Alain with blood on him without shuddering. ‘You thought him a monster and vowed to kill him for me once.’
‘And would have had he harmed you, but he hath done nothing but care for you and protect you,’ Maria told her, for Alain’s true love for Katherine had won her over at last. ‘Had I been given half a chance, I would have killed that evil man who took you from the Abbey. I am not as forgiving as you, my lady.’ She looked at Katherine strangely. ‘Why can you forgive others and not your betrothed?’
Katherine turned from her, unable to answer such a telling question. Maria was right to chide her. How could she show forgiveness to men who had been involved in her father’s murder, even tend their wounds and pray that their lives might be saved, when she could not forgive Alain?
It was stupid, ungenerous and unlike her. She knew that there was a part of her that wanted everything to be as it had been, that she wanted to confess her love and ask his pardon, but another part would not give way. Was it merely pride?
She was not given long to ponder the question for the door was flung open and Alain strode into the room. One glance at his face told her he was angry. Ethel must have given him her message and it had brought him to her straightway. She trembled inwardly, for she had never seen him look that way.
‘We must leave here in three hours if we are to reach a safe haven by this night,’ Alain told her, his face hard and cold. ‘Your ladies must pack what you need for the journey. Anything left behind can be sent for later.’
‘And if I do not care to leave?’ He was bad as Achrington or Ravenshurst! She looked at him resentfully. Why must she always do as a man told her? She was tired of being treated as if her wishes counted for naught. ‘Supposing I wish to stay here?’
‘It is not safe,’ Alain replied. ‘We are returning to Banewulf until Ravenshurst is taken. He hath not the strength to take this place by force, for I shall leave some of my men here to guard it—but I do not trust him. I shall take you back to my parents’ home and then go to London. With a royal decree against him, Ravenshurst will be outlawed and shall be brought to justice one way or another.’
‘I shall go with you on one condition,’ Katherine replied, lifting her head proudly. ‘You will give me your word that he shall not die by your hand. I shed no tears for him, for he surely deserves to be punished by the law for his evildoing—but not by your hand.’
Alain looked at her in silence for some seconds. Katherine’s heart beat fast and she held her breath. Would he refuse?
‘Very well, you have my word,’ Alain said at last. His expression was cold, unforgiving. ‘You are my betrothed and I hope that you will come to accept me, Katherine. The promises we made to one another cannot be undone. You would be dishonoured if you broke yours—and I shall not break mine. We shall marry, though you will not be forced to suffer my presence. I dare say there is a foreign prince somewhere that will buy my sword.’
‘You would fight for any who paid you?’ Katherine was horrified. Was this the knight she had believed the truest in Christendom?
‘Why not?’ Alain’s mouth curved in a derisive smile. ‘I have blood on my hands, Katherine—the blood of innocent men, you said—why should I not fight for any who will pay me?’
His anger and his words shook Katherine. Maria had almost convinced her that she ought to forgive him, and she was trying to erase from her mind the memory of him coming towards her stained with the fresh blood of his enemies—but now she was sickened. She felt a pain in her heart as if a knife had pierced it, but she gave no sign of the wound he had dealt her as she raised her head and looked into his eyes.
‘As you say, I cannot break my promise, and as you will not we shall marry—but after that I shall go to the Sisters of Mercy and ask to join them. Not as a nun, but as someone who will work with them to help the sick and poor.’
For a moment Alain’s eyes blazed and she thought he would deny her, but he merely inclined his head.
‘As you wish, Katherine—but first I shall claim you as my wife. For one night you shall be mine, and afterwards…’ A harsh laugh escaped him. ‘Then, my sweet Kate, you may go to God or the devil if it pleases you.’
Katherine stood as if turned to stone as he swivelled on his heels and walked out of her chamber without another word. He could not mean what he had just said? Surely he would not force himself on her if she would not yield?
Alain h
ad never felt such anger. The look in Katherine’s eyes—the disgust on her face when she had first seen him—had stabbed him to the heart. How could she think so ill of him?
Did she not understand the danger she had been in? Ravenshurst would never have given her up, no matter his promises. Once he had the cup he would have seen that her inheritance was a rich one, for she was more wealthy than she dreamed. He would have forced her to be his wife and then… Alain could not bear to think of her eventual fate.
Ravenshurst would have used and abused her until he decided it was safe to rid himself of her. To think of Katherine at that evil man’s mercy was more than Alain could have borne. He would have killed twice as many men to set her free—but he had not killed in cold blood. Neither he nor Stefan had ordered senseless killing.
In battle there was always some unnecessary bloodletting. For some men the killing became a mindless slaughter that they could not control, though they might afterwards feel shame. Others killed cleanly, coldly, enjoying their sport.
Alain knew that when Richard had ordered the slaying of the hostages there had been others killed; innocent men, women and children were dragged from their homes and killed in the streets. It was a stain on the honour of those who had taken part, and Alain had done his best to control such evil where he could—but there were times when there was no choice but to take life.
Katherine must understand that this had been one of these times. If she could not, then the future was indeed bleak for them.
It seemed that he had killed her love. Having seen the horror in her eyes, he knew that she could not love him and it hurt him more than he had expected. Until this moment he had scarcely known how precious she was to him—and now it was too late.
She hated him, but he must marry her. She would not be safe from other unscrupulous men until she was his wife.
He would marry her, and he would know her as his wife—even if she went to her grave hating him for it!
Katherine held herself aloof on the return journey to Banewulf. A part of her wept bitter tears as she watched Alain riding just ahead of her, his back straight and stiff with a mixture of pride and anger. She wanted to make up their quarrel, to tell him that she still loved him, but she could not. Something inside her was still recoiling from the look in his eyes as he had come to her fresh from the lust of battle. It seemed that the knight she had loved so desperately had either vanished or had been merely a figment of her imagination.
For his part, Alain gave her no indication that he wished to make up their quarrel. When he looked at her his expression was cold, indifferent, and there was no sign of the merry smile that had enchanted her. He had become a stranger and one that she did not much like.
‘You should beg his pardon for so misjudging him,’ Maria told her as she undressed her mistress for bed on the last night they would spend upon the road. They were staying at a monastery, and the guestroom was cold and cheerless, the bed hard and monstrous uncomfortable. ‘It is no wonder he is angry with you. How could you accuse him of murder when he came to rescue you and be avenged for your father’s and your uncle’s murder?’
‘Be quiet,’ Katherine said, her mouth set stubbornly. ‘I will hear no more of your scolding, Maria.’
‘I have been friend and comforter to you for most of your life,’ Maria said, refusing to be silenced. ‘And if I do not prick your conscience, who will?’
‘I do not care to have it pricked.’ Katherine glared at her. ‘You did not see that slaughter happening as I did.’
‘And whose fault was that? Had you listened to Ethel, you might have spared yourself the pain.’
Katherine ignored her, refusing to answer. Yet as she lay upon her hard pallet that night she found herself unable to sleep. Maria was right, she knew it in her heart. Alain had done what he had for love of her, to protect her. He had a right to be angry after the harsh accusations she had made.
Yet the memory of so much bloodshed was hard to bear and she could not shut it out of her mind no matter how much she tried. It was impossible to reconcile the picture she had built in her mind of Alain de Banewulf with the bloody avenger she had seen in the Great Hall at Rotherham. Were there two men in him, and, if so, which was the real one—or was the picture she had built for herself of him simply false? Katherine could no longer trust her instincts.
She wanted to love him, but could she ever forget that sight—could she find the merry, gentle man she had loved again? If he were lost to her forever, she believed that she would be best to retreat to the Abbey and spend the rest of her life in prayer.
After a restless night, Katherine was tired and heavy eyed as they continued their journey, her face strained and weary. Alain’s gaze dwelled on her for a moment and she thought he might say something, hoped desperately that he would find words to bridge this gulf between them. When he turned away without speaking, she knew that it was over between them. She was a prisoner of her own despair, and he no longer cared whether she loved him or not.
Holding her tears inside, Katherine rode in silence. She was glad when Banewulf came into sight. At least when they reached it, Alain would leave her. He had said that he would go to London to petition the King, and she hoped that, before he returned, he would come to see that to go on with their marriage would be a mistake.
She was so weary that when a young squire came to help her down she almost fell. The tears were very close, and to her shame she felt them trickle down her cheeks when Alayne held out her arms to her.
‘My poor Katherine!’ Alayne cried. ‘I have prayed for your return every night. Forgive us for letting that wicked man take you away from us. We believed he had the right, but we should still have made him fight for it in the courts. My son was so angry with his father for allowing you to leave that I believe they may never be on the same terms again.’
‘He should not blame Sir Ralph,’ Katherine said, her throat choked with emotion as she fought her desire to weep. ‘It was neither his fault nor yours, my lady. I chose to go…’
‘Knowing that it would cause trouble for us if you refused.’
‘It was not only that,’ Katherine replied. ‘I did not want more bloodshed. I hoped to spare your people and his. There has been too much, too much….’ She faltered as she saw Alain was standing close to her, his face a mask carved out of stone. ‘While I believed that man my uncle, I hoped that he would relent and allow me to marry Alain, but I would have borne anything rather than see innocent men die.’
She heard Alain exclaim furiously. He walked away and she realised that he had misinterpreted what he had heard. Did he imagine it would have cost her nothing to give up her hope of being his wife? It would have cost her more than he knew, for she would never have been another man’s wife in anything but name. She would have died rather than let any other man claim her.
‘Well, you are safe with us now,’ his mother told her, putting an arm about her waist. ‘You have been through a terrible experience, my dear daughter, but we shall help you to forget. You will soon feel better and then you will learn to be happy again.’
‘Perhaps…’ Katherine checked her tears. She would not give way to her desire to weep like a weak woman. ‘Yet it is not of myself I think—but all those who lost their lives because of something I had. It would have been better if I had cast it into the sea.’
‘No,’ Alain said and she turned to see he had come up to them again without her realising it. His expression was harsh and she was unable to read what was in his mind. ‘The cup is too precious to destroy, Katherine. Your father’s papers were recovered from the baggage Ravenshurst left behind at Rotherham in his haste to escape justice. I have read them and I believe they are proof positive that the cup he discovered is indeed the one that our Lord used at the Last Supper.’
‘Yet still I would be rid of it,’ Katherine said. Why could he not understand her feelings? To her the cup had become tainted by the evil that had surrounded it. ‘It has caused nothing but evil and I beli
eve it is cursed.’
‘Have a care,’ Alain warned. ‘You speak of a holy relic and one that belongs to Christendom. It should be in Jerusalem and would be had that city not been lost to us—but failing that it belongs in Rome. Now that we have provenance we could take it there after our wedding and seek an audience with his Holiness.’
‘You may care to make the journey, sir,’ she said, her face cold. ‘I do not. For my part, I would destroy it before it costs more lives.’
‘I shall not permit such sacrilege.’
‘You will not permit?’ Katherine could barely control her anger. How dared he behave in such a high-handed manner? He spoke as if he owned her—as he would in truth once she was his wife.
She would not marry him. She would refuse him—run away if need be. Wild thoughts of leaving Banewulf chased through her head, but were soon dismissed. In truth, she would not be safe wherever she went while she still had the cup.
Once they were wed Alain had promised to let her retire to the Abbey. She hoped that he might keep his word, even though it meant that she must pay a price before he granted her her freedom.
She would have said more, but the puzzled look in Lady Alayne’s eyes held her silent. This quarrel between them was private and must not be allowed to bring grief to others. Lifting her head, she forced a smile.
‘Of course, sir,’ she said. ‘I must accept your decision in all things, must I not?’
Turning proudly, she walked away from him, making her way inside the house and going up to her chamber. Once inside, she stood with her back against the door, gathering her wits. Alain was determined that they should marry and that she should be his wife in truth as well as name. How could she bear that? How could she give herself to him and then walk away from the marriage?
Katherine despised and hated him. Alain could not doubt that, for her manner to him was reserved and cold. She had smiles for his mother, and even his father—who he had still not quite forgiven for letting Katherine be taken from them—yet there were none for him.