by Anne Herries
Stefan sat up. His head was spinning and it ached like hell, but at least no bones were broken.
‘We must go on,’ he said. ‘I dare not leave her there at that rogue’s mercy an hour longer than need be.’
‘We have received word that your father and his men will be with us by the morning. Would it not be better to wait, my lord? The greater the show of force we have, the more likely that Danewold will surrender.’
Stefan saw the sense of the man’s argument. Besides, it was already dark, and if the Baron’s intent was to despoil Elona and thus force her into giving consent for the wedding, it might already be too late.
Something inside him cried out a protest. He wanted to cover the short distance between them, scale the walls and kill the Baron with his bare hands, but he knew that it would avail him nothing. The fall from his horse had delayed them too long.
Elona was Danewold’s prisoner now and only God could help her at this moment. He rose to his feet, needing the assistance of the soldier’s hand for one second until the dizziness had passed, then he walked away. He would keep a vigil and he would pray that no evil would befall her, though his mind was sorely troubled.
Elona felt better when she woke, the sickness having left just an ache in her stomach, which eased when she ate the coarse bread and honey her women brought her to break her fast.
‘I hope I shall not have to take that vile stuff again this evening,’ she said to Roberta when they were alone. ‘If it made me as sick as I was last even, I should surely die.’
‘It would make you ill in truth if you swallowed it too often,’ Roberta agreed. ‘We must pray that my master does not feel amorous for a few days. They say that he is in a foul mood and that two of his servants have been whipped for no reason this morning.’
‘He is an evil man,’ Elona said and shuddered. ‘I am sorry that your people suffer, Roberta. I did not mean to cause trouble for others.’
‘They are used to it,’ she said with a grimace. ‘All of us who serve the Baron know that his moods can be violent. Some have tried to leave him, but he is a vengeful man.’
‘He should be punished.’
‘I wish it might happen,’ Roberta said. ‘But while he stays in his stronghold and sends others to do his foul work, there is little chance of it.’
Elona wanted to offer her comfort, a chance to leave the castle in her service, but how could she when she did not know if she would leave this place alive?
‘I shall get up now,’ she told Roberta. ‘But if I am sent for, say that I am still too ill to leave my chamber…’
How long could she play this waiting game? How long would it be before Stefan came for her?
Surely he would? She must believe it or she would be lost.
‘Thank God that you have come,’ Stefan greeted his father warmly as they both looked up to the castle that stood on a rise beyond the dense woods surrounding it on three sides. To the rear was a steep ravine, which made it impossible to reach from behind, and there was a moat all around the stout walls of the keep. ‘It would take a month to breach those walls, but my hope is that Danewold will realise he is beaten when he sees our combined forces and give in without too much of a struggle.’
‘When I give him the news that Elona’s lands have been taken into protective custody by Duke Richard’s men, it may give him pause for thought,’ Ralph told his son. ‘The messenger reached us but an hour before Dickon told us what had happened. Had Danewold known what he risked, I dare say he would have thought twice before abducting her.’
‘It cannot help but sway the balance in our favour,’ Stefan agreed grimly, but his thoughts were far from eased. Elona had spent several nights upon the road with the men who had stolen her and one within the walls of Danewold’s stronghold. Pray God that nothing had happened to her! ‘Then we are agreed, Father. We take our men forward and make a show of force, then send in our demands for Elona’s release.’
‘Yes, that would seem the best plan,’ Ralph nodded, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. He could not fail to notice his son’s agitation and wonder at it. True, the girl had been under Stefan’s protection and he would feel it reflected badly on him that this had happened, but there was more here than met the eye. Something deeper, stronger—hidden. ‘If we must fight, we shall for as long as it takes, and for that I rely on you. It is many years since I did more than drive off a few marauders from our lands and they were but poor creatures, badly armed and ill trained.’
Stefan nodded. He knew that his father still trained often with his men to keep himself fit, but neither he nor they were battle hardened. If it came to a fight, it would be his own men that must lead the way, but sometimes a show of force was enough. Besides, the Baron would realise that forcing Elona to become his bride would avail him nothing as far as her lands were concerned. If the deed were done already, he would be punished for it, Stefan vowed. If she was a wife, she would be a widow ere long—but that would not restore all that she had lost, nor heal his own grief at her distress.
‘You are no more than a few hours behind her,’ Ralph said, somehow feeling Stefan’s agitation without understanding it. ‘He will not have had time to wed her yet. There are laws, which must be observed.’
‘That man does not regard convention,’ Stefan growled. ‘What does he care for the law unless he is forced to bend the knee?’
‘We must pray that he had at least the grace to allow her some rest,’ Ralph said. What ailed Stefan? Anyone would think he was in love with the girl! Yet how could that be? He had known Elona was intended for his half-brother’s bride. Surely he would not…? There Ralph’s thoughts were suspended, for one of his men had come up to him with some news and he turned away to greet him.
Stefan strode away to deploy his own men. He hoped that Danewold would be thrown into confusion by the news he brought of Duke Richard’s stewardship of the de Barre lands. Elona’s father had done well to protect her and his manor by making the Duke ruler of the lands in the event of his death. Whether the Duke would be happy to hand them back when she married was another matter, but one that did not concern Stefan. Anyone who cared for Elona would not care a toss for her fortune.
‘What is this?’ Baron Danewold roared his anger at the man who had brought him the news that at least a hundred armed men were massed before his gate. ‘Who dares to attack me?’
‘It is the combined forces of Sir Stefan and Sir Ralph de Banewulf,’ his steward told him, his knees shaking as he saw the rage in his master’s face. He would probably be whipped for daring to bring such news. ‘They are a formidable force, sir, much stronger in numbers than we are, and I do not think we can hope to drive them off.’
‘Damn them!’ The Baron cursed several times. He had not bargained for this, thinking that, as there was no true betrothal, Sir Ralph would not bother himself for a distant kinswoman of his wife’s. It seemed that he had underestimated the man and his son. Supposing the wench’s story were true and she was betrothed to Sir Stefan…carrying his child. Her vomit had turned his stomach sour and he had not yet recovered. He had been forced to bathe and discard his tunic—his second best that he had put on in honour of what was supposed to be a night of triumph. ‘Give me their demands, then—or read them to me if you will.’
His reading skills were not as good as he would like, though he tried to keep this a secret for fear that his steward would cheat him if he realised how difficult he found it to decipher letters. He must be clear about what these men had to say, for though he craved the lands Elona de Barre would bring him, there were other ways to make sure of them.
‘They demand that you deliver the lady up to them unharmed,’ the steward said. ‘They say that, if she has not been touched in any way, you will be allowed to keep your stronghold and go unpunished—apart from a fine of one hundred golden marks.’
‘One hundred golden marks!’ The Baron swore furiously. ‘Be damned to them. I’ll see them all dead first.’
‘The
re is more,’ the steward cautioned, though he trembled at the thought of his master’s fury. ‘It seems that John de Barre made Duke Richard custodian of his lands and it is decreed that if the girl is forced to a marriage she dislikes or dies…the lands become the property of the Duke.’
‘The Devil take him!’ Danewold raged as he realised that he was cheated of his prize. He might choose to fight Sir Stefan, though it was doubtful if he could win, but to go against the King’s son, a man who would be the future King of England—that was more than even he dared, for he knew his fate if he tried. ‘Curse the wench. She is not worth it—a dammed whore by her own confession. She should be whipped at the cart’s tail!’
‘Sir Ralph demands that you meet with him and his son outside the walls of your keep to discuss the terms of your surrender.’
Danewold’s face flushed ruby red with fury and he was tempted to tell his steward to send back a message that he would see them in hell before he would surrender, but then he thought of the consequences of such action. Perhaps he could find a way to escape the fine—and, if not, he would have his revenge another way. A crafty smile touched his mouth. The lady was a self-confessed whore and he would see that Sir Ralph knew it.
Oh, yes, he would wipe the smile from their faces!
‘Send word that I shall meet alone with Sir Ralph outside the walls,’ he told his steward. ‘I am not agreeing to the fine, but I will parley with him and discuss the merits of his demand.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Danewold’s steward wondered what had pleased his master. Something must have, for he had seen that evil smile before. The Baron was planning something—of that much he was certain.
Chapter Seven
‘But why does he want to speak to you alone?’ Stefan asked. His hands curled at his sides in frustration at this demand. He had wanted the chance to get Danewold at his mercy. ‘Do not let him persuade you to mercy, Father. If he has harmed her, I shall not stay my hand. I swear he shall die if he has laid so much as a finger on her!’
‘You wrong me, Stefan,’ Ralph told him with a frown. ‘I am not a soft fool nor yet a hothead. What is it that you fear? What does the girl mean to you?’
‘I was entrusted with the care of her,’ Stefan said, his eyes staring at a point somewhere above his father’s head. He could not speak of his feelings for Elona—not until he had settled things between them. ‘This is a slur upon my reputation.’
Ralph was not convinced, but understood that his eldest son was in a difficult position. He knew that Alayne had intended the girl as a possible bride for their son—but nothing was settled. She would not insist upon it if there was something between Stefan and Elona. Besides, he was not sure that Alain was ready for marriage as yet. He had sensed restlessness in the young man of late and wondered if he was troubled by thoughts of a marriage that would bind him too soon.
‘Very well, if that is your only reason.’ There was no point in pushing too hard at this time. First they must settle this business with Danewold. ‘I shall bring Elona back with me—but I shall make sure that she is untouched before I give him pardon.’
Stefan inclined his head. He did not like it that he was to be left behind. Damn it! He should be there when Elona was brought out—he should be there to comfort her, to teach that vile brute a lesson he would never forget. His spirit rebelled at waiting tamely for her to be brought to him when he longed to strike out at his enemy.
And yet he knew that she was vulnerable. Until the walls were breached, she would be at the mercy of Danewold and his men. Better then to make peace if he could rather than risk more harm to her.
But supposing Danewold had… Stefan crushed the thought that threatened to overwhelm him. It did not matter. He would still wed her even if—but the thought of that brute touching her, forcing her, turned his guts and he knew it would haunt him, as it must her. She might be forever scarred by it, shamed so deeply that she would never recover. Pray God she did not ask to be sent to a nunnery! That way he would lose her as surely as if she were dead.
‘Do what you must,’ he told his father, tight-lipped. ‘Only bring her back safe.’
No matter what was promised, he would punish the Baron if Elona had been harmed!
‘I am glad you agreed to my terms,’ Danewold said, eyeing Sir Ralph uncertainly. The son had a fearsome reputation, but there was little known about the father, who had lived peaceably on his manor for years. ‘I am sure we can reach some agreement.’
‘Our terms are that you hand over the lady at once and unharmed,’ Sir Ralph said, fixing him with a hard stare. In his heart he would have liked to see the man whipped and brought before the King’s justice, but it would be better to avoid a long siege and much loss of life if it could be managed. Besides, the longer the dispute went on, the more the lady would suffer. ‘I have managed to restrain my son thus far—but should you refuse, I dare not think of the consequences. He will subdue you and your men no matter how long it takes and you will pay the price with your life.’
Danewold felt a queasiness in his stomach. It seemed that Sir Ralph was himself no easy mark and this interview might prove more difficult than he had hoped.
‘The lady has not been harmed by me or my men, that much I promise you,’ he said. ‘My men were under orders not to touch her and would have paid with their lives had they dared. I have scarcely seen her. She has been unwell since she arrived and kept much to her chamber.’
‘Unwell?’ Ralph’s gaze hardened as he looked at the other man. ‘What do you mean, unwell? Explain yourself, sir.’
‘Her trouble is none of my making,’ Danewold said. ‘’Tis the trouble that comes to a woman when she lies with her lover. She vomited at table last even and told me herself that she carries your son’s bastard in her belly. She says that she is betrothed to him, but I think she lies. She is most like a whore and the child may be anyone’s—’
‘Be careful what you say, sir,’ Ralph warned and his mouth was white-edged with anger. ‘You malign the good name of my son, Alain, who has never yet seen her.’
‘I meant the elder—the one who brought her to these shores. She swears that he is the father of her bastard and that they were betrothed at court. And she seems to be with child, for she has the vomiting that plagues women in their first months of carrying.’
Ralph’s eyes narrowed. Surely it was a lie! Stefan would not so far forget his honour as to deflower a maiden—and one promised, though not yet betrothed, to his brother?
‘I would see the lady,’ Ralph said. ‘Talk to her alone.’
‘You are welcome to her,’ Danewold said, his mouth curling sourly back from teeth that were blackened with neglect. ‘Take the whore and good riddance—but you’ll get no gold marks from me. You can burn the damned keep around us and I’ll see it burn before I pay.’ He raised a hand and signalled to one of his men and a woman was brought out of the stronghold, riding on a white palfrey. A serving woman riding on a mule accompanied her. ‘There she is—take the whore for all I care.’
Ralph controlled his temper with difficulty. There was still time for Danewold to change his mind and order the girl stopped; he must let the Baron’s remarks go for the moment. Elona’s safety was the most important thing at this time.
He noticed that she rode well, her head high, cheeks pale, but her eyes were proud and her expression determined. She was certainly very lovely, he realised, the kind of woman that many a man would lose his head over.
As her palfrey drew abreast of him, he dismounted and went up to her, taking hold of the reins and gazing up at her. Close to, she looked as if she might have been unwell of late, her eyes shadowed and red as if she had wept many tears.
‘Are you hurt, Elona?’ he asked softly in a voice that only she could hear. ‘Have they done aught to harm you?’
‘The only harm was in bringing me here in the first place,’ Elona said. ‘It was against my will and…I was threatened, but nothing happened, perhaps because I was
unwell.’
‘The Baron claims that you told him you are carrying a child—Sir Stefan’s child. Is that true, Elona?’ His eyes narrowed as she hesitated, glancing towards the Baron nervously. ‘You are safe now. You may tell me the truth. I wish only to help you, in whatever way I can. Are you carrying my son’s child? Has he promised to wed you?’
‘He…’ Elona was about to tell him the truth and then she stopped. If she admitted it had been a lie to stop the Baron ravishing her, she would be taken to Banewulf and compelled to marry Alain. At the start of her journey it had not mattered so very much, but now she saw clearly that she could never marry any other than the man she loved with all her heart. If she told the truth, she might never see Stefan again. And she might not be believed. The realisation that people would always suspect her of losing her honour was shaming.
If Alain de Banewulf did not want her after what had happened, there was a possibility that Elona would be forced into a marriage with anyone who would still have her—and if her reputation was lost she could not hope for a good marriage. She had branded herself a whore and, even if she now denied it, some would believe it still. And if she did not tell the truth…what then?
She believed that Sir Ralph was a man of honour. He would think of his duty towards her. He would do what was right by her, she was certain of his mind, and suddenly she knew what she was going to do. It was a terrible, terrible thing, but something inside her compelled her to speak as she did, ‘Yes, I am carrying his child—and he did promise to wed me, though we are not yet betrothed.’
Ralph’s expression became stern, his mouth drawing into a grim line of disapproval. At that moment he looked so much like an older version of Stefan that Elona shivered. All of a sudden she realised the enormity of what she had done! To lie to the Baron was one thing, but to lie to Sir Ralph was quite another.