The Everlasting Covenant

by Robyn Carr

  Her instincts told her not to discuss political matters with him, especially finding him in this enraged and unkempt manner, but she foolishly sought answers. While Clifton paced back and forth like a caged beast, Anne questioned him. “Did the king tell you why he chose to preserve Brainard’s life? Was Brainard bidden to the rebellion, or was it only Ramsford keep that Richard wanted?”

  “He uses my strong arm to possess the crown, to hold it against usurpers, with promises of great rewards, and all he gives me is Wressel. The Ayliffe heir was in hand and could have been finished; there is no need for him to live. How can I have Ayliffe if he lives? And Richard has promised me. He promised me!”

  Anne almost breathed a sigh of relief. So Brainard was still the heir – Richard had not yet given Clifton his coveted title.

  “Brainard has not bothered us for many years. He has been quiet at Ramsford,” she said softly.

  “He betrayed me,” Clifton said, and she knew that he spoke of Richard, his king. “And even you betray me. You swore your loyalty to me, but the first time ever that I denied you something, you defied me and went your own way. Does everyone betray me?” He stepped closer to Anne, Gage still sitting on the settle, partly behind his mother’s skirts, which earned him even more scorn. “Do you call yourself a man, you sniveling baby, hiding behind your mother?”

  “Leave the boy alone, Clifton. You confuse and frighten us all with this anger. Brainard’s capture was none of our doing.”

  He whirled away, running a hand through his overlong hair. Anne wondered about his presence when he was with the king. Did he allow himself to become fat and dirty even with Richard, or was this only the effect of the hard ride, the long campaign?

  “No one here means to betray you, milord,” she said to his back. She watched anxiously as he drew himself a full cup of wine and slugged most of it down too quickly, dribbles running down over his chin. He closed his eyes briefly, as if the brew calmed him. Then he smiled, and his eyes shone with mischief.

  “You delivered Deirdre to Heathwick?” he asked. She slowly nodded. “To accept her property?”

  “And to join the husband she had been denied.”

  “Was he there?”

  Anne closed her eyes tightly, thinking. “Lord deFrayne delivered his nephew,” she finally replied.

  “You are a whore,” he said in a strained whisper. Gage shot to his feet, anger burning in his blue eyes. Anne held an arm across Gage’s middle, forbidding him to take so much as a step.

  “Everyone knows it,” Clifton went on. “You are the most interesting gossip at court. They talk about you even in front of me, as if it does not burn me deep. But then,” he laughed, “they call me the culprit to draw you away from your near-dead old husband.” Anne closed her eyes hard. It was fast becoming too late to save Clifton from himself. She almost hoped he would spill it all out, publicly, taking the burden from her. She had heard whisperings all her life. She had read the letters at Heathwick. She had no idea how many secrets she actually held. She heard her husband chuckle wickedly, and she opened her eyes to look at him. She did not see the young, strong, faithful man who offered to keep her safe with marriage, but an obese, indulgent, obsessive fool. He bowed from the waist. “But of course they all say ‘twas me to tinker with the old lord’s woman. It was my pleasure, cherie.”

  “Clifton, you must--”

  “Do not tell me what I must do! You are a mere woman, and my wife. And as mistress of this keep you might distract the men from my command sometimes, so long as you do not interfere with King Richard’s rule, but as my wife you will not gainsay my authority. You will not defy me again. You are my servant, my chattel, and you need be punished. Punished!”

  Anne stiffened but held her chin up, keeping her bearing proud. “And for what crime am I to do penance, milord? For seeing my daughter wed?”

  “For adultery,” he grumbled.

  “There has been none of that,” she lied, knowing he could not prove it. She had stayed in Heathwick with Deirdre only four days and no one knew for certain that she went to Dylan. It had been much as it was in that time so long ago, at Ayliffe, when they exchanged but a few polite sentences by day in the company of other Heathwick residents, though by the dark of night she crept to his room. Only three nights in all. She prayed no one would betray her in that, even through conjecture or suspicion. Even her body served her in this secret, for she knew she was past childbearing.

  “Tis an old adultery, for which you were rewarded with a good marriage, when you should have paid dearly. You were unfaithful to the Earl of Ayliffe, and he was killed before you could atone. I will consider the matter.”

  She should have known he would not expose the boys’ true sire – that would put a wedge between himself and Ayliffe.

  He refilled his cup, swilled the brew quickly, and slammed the silver chalice on the table top.

  “Do not leave the hall, madam. I will return. Consider yourself prisoner for now.”

  I have been a prisoner all these many years, she thought in despair. However, before, his hold had been tight only to keep her close and watched so that he might own her completely. Now he wished to destroy her. She placed her arm around Gage’s shoulders as she watched Clifton leave the hall and go to his men and his horses in the courtyard.

  “Madam, what has happened to Father?” Gage asked.

  “Try to keep a healthy distance from him, Gage,” she whispered. “I fear he is unwell.” She turned to the guards behind her. “You find me at my weakest, sirs. I fear I need locks on my chamber door and sentries without. But be cautious that you mind Ayliffe for me, and mind me for Clifton. Do you understand?”

  “But my lady ... ,” one man began.

  “His authority over me is absolute. His authority over Ayliffe does not exist until such a time as the king endorses him. Pray God, Richard is not hasty.”

  “You support Richard as king?” the other man asked.

  Anne smiled briefly, causing her mouth to hurt. “It is bad enough to be punished as an adulteress, pray do not lure me into any punishment for treason. Richard is crowned. Parliament endorsed him. That much is done.”

  The men looked at each other again, scowling blackly, then left the hall to carry out her instructions.

  Anne turned to her son and grasped his shoulders, carefully brushing her lips against both his cheeks. She saw him struggle not to cry, and she pitied him for the effort it took to behave like a man. Gage knew the family story, the one Clifton wished him to know--that he was sired on the wrong side of the bed, but born into a legal marriage.

  “You must trust me, Gage, for Clifton loves no one today, and this is not your fault. You must not leave Ayliffe with your father, even if it means that you go into hiding. Tis a large house, there are many places to hide. Stay much out of sight until this passes. I do not think he will stay here long. He is too ambitious to have Ayliffe to remain here, even to dally with these punishments.”

  “When did this happen, madam? How? Why does he love us no more?”

  She smiled sympathetically. One day he would know the truth, and she hoped he would delight in the news. There was a father who had never stopped loving and wanting him. And she would never abandon him.

  “It is impossible to know,” she sighed. “I did defy him with Deirdre’s marriage, but I saw love in the maid’s eyes and I could not deny her. And deFrayne is a good and powerful man – he adores her. Perhaps my husband’s anger in that is justified.”

  “If he touches you again ...”

  “Nay, my love, my son. This business is between Clifton and me and has little to do with you. A man’s treatment of his wife is his own cross to bear. Do not interfere. Take a lesson from this. You will marry one day.”

  “But if he hurts you?”

  “I am strong, Gage. He cannot hurt me that badly.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Sloan needs to be here to protect you. Tell me what to do, Mother.”

  She smiled at
him – she was so proud of him. “If you will only trust me, and love me, I think we will mend even this, given time.”

  ***

  Bolts were placed on the inside of Lady Anne’s chamber. The lady kept much out of sight throughout the afternoon. Gage was seen by two knights as he stole to the donjon to avoid his father. In late afternoon Clifton called together a group of three dozen knights to the hall to drink with him. They came warily, only one or two of them eager to imbibe. Then he called for his wife, and someone was sent to fetch her.

  Clifton lounged in the chair on the dais he had occupied in the hall since his marriage to the countess. He was drunk and well fed, and his eyes glazed over. Anne descended to the common hall, surprised at first by the size of the gathering, but when she noticed Clifton’s strange behavior, she reasoned he had some plan. She hoped that Gage had taken her advice.

  “Ah, madam, you look lovely ... lovely,” he said. “You have always been proud of your beauty, have you not, Lady Anne?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor, unwilling to parley with him.

  “Answer me,” he snapped.

  “Nay, milord. I do not think myself vain.”

  Clifton struggled against his growing paunch to sit up straight. He leaned an elbow on his knee, his chin on his fist, and stared at her through reddened eyes. He belched loudly, and she cringed. She had never been so ashamed. That she did not love him was not at issue. He had destroyed himself. There was nothing left of the pride that had burned so brightly in his eyes when he was a young man. She pitied him, she hated him.

  “Do you deny you have defied me?”

  She stiffened her spine and held her head with dignity. “I deny it, milord,” she said softly.

  “Louder. For these men.”

  “Please, milord, I ...”

  “You defied me. True?”

  “Nay, my lord husband. I did not follow your wishes in my daughter’s marriage, but I did not defy you. ‘Twas my decision alone – with the queen.”

  “Never mind that,” he slurred, sitting back in his chair, his belly swollen with food and drink. “Did you not deliver your daughter, Deirdre, to her dower estates?”

  “Is this a trial, my lord?” she asked.

  “Answer!” he shouted.

  “I did. I delivered her to her grandmother’s burial, her dower estate, and her husband.”

  “And was Lord deFrayne at Heathwick?”

  “Aye, my lord. He did escort his nephew, Sir Justin.”

  “Aha!” The cry was victorious, followed by laughter, rude and almost shrewish for a man of his size. “Did you join him in bed, madam?”

  “Nay, milord. I was well guarded.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw one of the men who had accompanied her on that journey turn away from the scene of questioning. She had no idea how much her people gossiped about her. Clifton had never mentioned Dylan deFrayne, especially in conjunction with her sons, a silence that she surmised was never to protect her, but to keep himself some dignity as her husband. Perhaps the knights whispered, perhaps many wondered. Perhaps the luscious gossip from letters written by bored, bitter old dowagers had traveled even this far.

  She tried to catch the actions and expressions of all of them, but she failed to do so. In her heart she knew that Clifton was ready to expose her now, to name her sons bastards.

  Clifton’s voice came softly. “You loved him once, many years ago,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  She glanced around the room, her cheeks showing the fire of shame. She was terrified that he had hit his mark, that he would not cease until he saw her stoned. Would he speak the truth before them all? He could do it, he knew it all.

  She tried to look into Clifton’s eyes, but his gaze wavered as if he could not focus. “Many, many years ago, my lord. I was five and ten and our parents forbade us. But I beg you--”

  “Do you remember Jane Shore, madam?”

  The king’s mistress was unforgettable. The way Edward had flaunted her was permanently etched in Anne’s memory, and Richard’s treatment of her later also could not be forgotten. Richard punished her publicly for whoredom. But the poor girl was truly an innocent whore, if ever there was such a thing. Jane Shore had been merely a loose, frivolous woman who delighted in her affair with the king. But she had never presumed on power, not ever. She had not dressed herself more ornately than the queen, nor had she spun conspiracies based on her position of power. She had simply shared her body, first with Edward, then with others. She had been a powerless, fleshly trollop. She had never been as dangerous as many virtuous women Anne had known over the years.

  “Of course, my lord,” she finally answered.

  “Well,” he said, spreading the word out loudly and with a breath. “If I strike you, these men will come to doubt me, for they are smitten with you.” He chuckled. “They do not know you, of course. They do not see you as you are. You are selfish, hoarding your fortune and your children by Forbes. You delight in keeping me without title here. But they cannot deprive me of fair punishment of my wife.”

  “For what am I being punished, my lord?”

  “For causing me to worry. For spending days in the same hall with your previous lover. And, of course, you were never punished for what you did to Forbes. You are only a whore, but few of us know it.”

  She dared not look around, but then neither did Clifton. Clifton hung on to the old lie that Gage was sired by him. She wondered why, he was surely drunk enough to tell all.

  “You wish I would leave, don’t you, madam? I will not. Food and drink are plentiful here. These men will deliver me a wench from the village to warm my bed now that you are locked in yon chamber. And I am still your husband.” He looked at her long and hard. “Take off your dress.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. “My lord?”

  “The punishment did well enough for Shore’s wife, it will do for you. You may take your walk through the streets of Ayliffe at dusk, your feet bare and your body likewise. These hearty knights will spread the word among the townspeople. The sun will set ... “He broke off in the middle of his well-planned sentence as it briefly eluded him. Unless the wine took the better of his head soon, she would have no recourse.

  “You will carry a candle, as Shore’s wife did. To your shame, madam. Mayhap you rule your castle well, but you serve your husband ill.” He laughed suddenly, and just as suddenly he recovered his former surly disposition. “Take off your dress.”

  “Do you punish me for my sins against my former husband?” she asked softly.

  “Yea, that and other discomforts.”

  “Tis not your right--”

  “I make it my right. Do as I say.”

  She briefly considered defying Clifton, but feared goading him into disclaiming her sons. Better to take his punishment, unjustly levied against her. “Do you plan to have me walk through the villages in my thin kirtle, as Mistress Shore was made to walk through London?”

  “Nay,” he replied, leaning back and smiling. “I think you do not need a kirtle.”

  “My lord, you cannot--”

  “You spelled out the confines of our marriage, madam, as I have been oft reminded. Over your body, I have dominion. Over these estates, the dominion is yours, for now at least. You need to be taught a lesson. Your people will learn of my might from this, I reckon. The dress.”

  At his command, Anne braved a look around the room. She took quick note of a variety of expressions and postures. She was not allowed much time to survey her people, but she caught a few eyes cast to their boots, a few castlewomen hanging back in the doorways with pain in their eyes. She saw Jane, horrified anger shining in her eyes, a few scowling mouths, some disturbed frowns, questioning or frightened twists to lips, she did not see anyone enjoying the scene.

  Faith, she told herself. Strength and faith were her only tools. She had been at Ayliffe for twenty-three years, since she was barely sixteen. She had made mistakes, but she had been true to her oath to
keep the place well. If her people doubted her or did not respect her, it was their careful secret. They had always treated her well, few had ever defied her. Clifton was clumsy and drunk. He did not know what he was doing. In his effort to gain power and control, he could be yielding the last of it.

  “Mistress Jane,” she called. The servant came forward of the knights with a furious grimace on her lips. “My fastenings,” Anne instructed, pulling her unbound hair over one shoulder.

  “My lady, you cannot allow ...”

  “The fastenings, Jane. My husband has commanded me in this – and in this I fear to defy him.”

  She could feel the fingers of her old friend and servant tremble as she unfastened the dress. The dress was finally dropped around her ankles. Anne kept her eyes focused on Clifton, but his eyelids dropped now and then. She hoped he would fall into a drunken slumber soon. She wondered at the feelings of the men who surrounded her now. Were they too curious to avert their eyes? Would someone slay Clifton in the dark of night for this cruelty?

  “Are my sins so serious that I am not allowed a kirtle?” she asked softly.

  “You are insolent,” he barked. “Nay, no kirtle. To the flesh, for you are not a good wife.”

  Anne could no longer look around the room. She prayed. She felt Jane retreat to safety.

  “Do not forget, my lord,” she said. “Alert the villeins that the Countess of Ayliffe does penance.”

  “Aye,” he shouted, throwing an arm wide to the room in general. “Announce my lady to the streets of Ayliffe!”

  “And a candle? As with Mistress Shore?”

  “Mistress Jane,” he bellowed. “Bring the lady a candle.”

  He waited while people hesitated. Looking directly at Clifton and not daring to look around, she quietly said, “My lord addresses his wife – do as he orders.”

  Slowly, but finally, a long taper arrived before her, but Jane could not meet her eyes. Anne felt sympathy for her friend. This was the first woman to attend her, to notice the young breeding in her. Her body was different now, heavier, sagging in places where once she was firm. She had given birth to large babies and there were sweet, memorable months of nursing them. Hers was not a girl’s body, but a woman’s. She wondered if this punishment was likely to hurt some of the onlookers more than her. She heard the door to the hall open and she bravely turned to see who went. It was Sir Gravis, a seasoned knight who had been at Ayliffe since Brainard was a baby.