Courtly Love

  "Serena!" Gyles seized her shoulders and spun Serena about. His face paled, then contorted in pain when he saw her battered features. Tentatively, Gyles's fingers stroked the swollen, mottled flesh that shrank from his touch. "Your face," Gyles whispered raggedly. "How ..."

  Serena stared at him then gave a twisted smile that sent a fresh bolt of pain tearing through Gyles while her eyes remained impassive. "Will you release me, please?"

  Gyles did so reluctantly but steadfastly remained in her path. "Tell me what happened."

  Serena's laugh was dry and harsh. "I was thrown from my horse. What did you think—that one of your fine Norman lords attacked me?"

  Gyles eyed Serena's bruises suspiciously. "Those marks were not made by a simple fall."

  "No?" Serena feigned surprise. "Perhaps I should have told you that I was thrown against a tree."

  "Tell me what happened—the truth, Serena!" Gyles demanded as he reached out to grab her shoulders.

  Serena fled from his advance. "Don't touch me!" She cried, then quieted at the incredulous look on his face. "I have been mauled enough today. Now I have told you the truth and you have showed the proper concern for my state of health, so I see no reason to continue this discussion. Will you stand aside and allow me to pass?"

  "You misunderstood what you saw today. Serena, Elspeth is—"

  "Don't!" Serena spoke quietly but with such vehemence that Gyles's words died a swift death. "I have no wish to hear more lies and excuses for your lust. Take your ease with anyone you please, but spare me this . . . this humiliation. Leave me some dignity at least." Serena's chin lifted defiantly. "The queen is expecting me, so will you please stand aside?"

  "Not until I have your word that you will hear me out." Gyles rested his broad shoulders against the door and fixed Serena with an inflexible gaze. "When I have had my say, then you may decide whether you share Catherine's chamber—but not before!"

  Serena passed a trembling hand across her brow. " 'Twill do no good! I have already decided—"

  "Your word, Serena," Gyles insisted.

  "Or you keep me here?" Serena laughed raggedly. "Your Norman arrogance is not to be believed! I am not one of your men and I refuse to be ordered—"

  " Tis your choice." Gyles shrugged. "When you regain your senses you can leave."

  Serena whirled away to study the fire. "Very well," she sighed. "You have my^ word I shall not go to Catherine until we have spoken."

  "Your word of honor?" Gyles would not release Serena until she reaffirmed her oath.

  "I have told you," Serena said dully. "I have given you my word of honor."

  Satisfied, Gyles stood aside and opened the door for Serena.

  "Remember," Gyles warned as Serena glided past.

  " 'Tis not likely I shall forget." Serena answered.

  Gyles watched as Serena sped through the hallway and out of sight. Confident, Gyles crossed to the table, pulled parchment and quill toward him and began to write. Three pages were covered with his sure hand before Gyles paused and reread the lines he had penned. A wry smile played about his mouth as Gyles boldly fixed his signature and seal to the bottom of each page. Each parchment was quickly folded, a few additional words inscribed and a larger seal stamped into the soft wax on the edges of each page. Soon, Gyles thought as he strode off in search of his retinue. Soon his life would be set aright.

  * * *

  Gyles was in good humor throughout the evening meal and the entertainment which followed. To Catherine, Gyles played the courtly gallant, and she began to glimpse the virtues Serena had often defended. Toward Bryan, Gyles retained an air of respect, refusing to be drawn into any argument and even agreeing that his behavior during the hunt had been shameful.

  "I have already been taken to task on that point," Gyles told them cheerfully. And Catherine and Bryan exchanged bewildered looks at his exuberance. "Tell me," Gyles leaned back in his chair and contemplated the workmanship of his goblet. "Do you think Serena would be pleased with the gift of a mount—or perhaps several pelts of silver fox for the trimming on the grey velvet you gave her?"

  Bryan's mouth fell open then closed with a snap as he overcame his disbelief. Catherine was more direct. "I think 'twould please her more to learn the truth about Elspeth."

  Gyles smiled indulgently. "Ah, Catherine, you have indeed learned much from my wife."

  Bryan came to a blushing Catherine's rescue. "I cannot find any fault with that, Gyles."

  "Nor do I, Bryan." Gyles raised his hands in mock defense. "But you may think differently when Catherine lets you feel the sharp edge of her tongue. Then, perhaps, you and I can comfort each other when we are flayed raw by our wives." Gyles drained his cup and rose to sketch a bow. "Adieu, my friends."

  Gyles's high spirits prevailed as he whiled away the hours in his chamber awaiting Serena's return. The night drew on and Gyles banked the fire repeatedly to keep the chill from invading the chamber; he sipped sparingly from the mulled wine—and waited. He began a game of chess, playing against himself—and waited. The sound of a passing footstep would send him flying from the chair to the door and more than once Gyles was confronted by an astounded guard. With a muttered apology Gyles returned to his chair to continue his vigil. And Gyles waited. Gyles's patience had overflowed its boundaries when dawn lightened the midnight blue of the sky. Head pounding, eyes red from lack of sleep, Gyles hurled himself from the chamber and through the palace corridors until he stood in front of the door to Catherine's chamber.

  When there was no response to his knock, one foot drew up and back, then descended upon the portal with a force that separated the timbers. Ignoring the jagged, protruding splinters, Gyles thrust his way into the chamber, the look on his face stilling the cry that trembled on Catherine's lips.

  "Where is she?" Gyles growled, heedless of the frantic effort Catherine was making to drag the coverlet about her shoulders.

  "Wha—what do you mean?" Catherine shrank against the headboard as Gyles advanced upon the bed.

  "Serena—my wife! where is she?" Gyles grabbed Catherine's wrist.

  "I don't know!" Catherine cried.

  "You lie!" Gyles's grip tightened.

  "Nay!" Catherine sobbed. "I do not know of what you speak."

  Gyles released her arm and struggled to bring his rage under control. "Serena did not return to our chamber last night after waiting upon the queen. I thought perhaps—"

  Catherine's raised hand silenced Gyles. "Serena was not in attendance last night. Matilda was told Serena had taken ill and was resting."

  Gyles shook his head as if to clear it. "That is not possible, Serena sent no message and she went to the queen before the meal."

  "I thought it odd you said nothing at table," Catherine mused aloud, "but then I assumed 'twas not serious."

  "Bryan!" Gyles's head snapped up. "Did Serena go to Bryan?"

  Catherine shook her head. "He did not say, but if she had, I am sure Bryan would have told me."

  "Will you go to the queen? See if Serena attended her after you retired?"

  "Of course, immediately—if you would step outside so I may dress?" Catherine glanced meaningfully at the door and for a brief moment thought a blush rose in Gyles's face.

  Gyles paced impatiently outside the queen's chamber as he waited for Catherine to emerge, his thoughts veering from rage over Serena's behavior to bleak despair over her whereabouts. When Catherine appeared and gave a shake of her head, Gyles drove a fist into the palm of his other hand; and when Catherine informed him that Matilda had received a second note from Serena begging permission to withdraw from court, his hand shot out and Catherine found herself dragged along in Gyles's wake to a different part of the palace where Bryan took his rest.

  Roused out of a sound sleep, Bryan could do no more than glare at his sister's husband until he caught sight of Catherine waiting in the hall.

  "Close the door, Catherine!" Bryan barked, then rose and began to pull on his clothing. "Now what the devil is
so important that you find it necessary to disturb my rest? And what is Catherine doing with you?"

  "Do you know where Serena is?" Gyles demanded bluntly.

  "I do not make a habit of knowing my sister's whereabouts," Bryan snapped. "As you can plainly see, Serena is most certainly not here. Serena is your wife, Gyles, 'tis not my fault if you have misplaced her."

  "Serena is not a piece of armor I mislay!" Gyles replied irritably.

  "No?" Bryan retorted as his head emerged from his tunic. "It appeared differently yesterday. Mayhap if you spent less time dallying with Lady Elspeth you would know where Serena is."

  "I waited the night through!" Gyles flung out. "And how long has Serena waited?" Bryan threw back. "If Serena does not wish your company I cannot find fault with her, in fact I applaud her decision. Would to God she had made it months ago! You would have spared my family much, Gyles, had you refused my father's offer and allowed Serena to marry Richard."

  Gyles stormed from the room and for the remainder of the morning haunted the places within the castle that Serena frequented. Solars, sewing rooms, music rooms, all were empty, for the courtiers were enjoying the second day of the hunt. In desperation Gyles descended to the stables and found Serena's horse still in its stall. If Serena had decided to join the hunt while awaiting Matilda's permission to leave the court, she would have ridden her own mount, Gyles knew; and had she already left William's court, her steed would also be missing. Frustrated, Gyles returned to the palace, his footsteps crunching hollowly in the light dusting of snow, when a startling thought struck him.

  The corridors echoed as Gyles ran past the public rooms toward the royal apartments, ignoring the astonished guards he passed and at last halting and speaking to a knight who guarded the entrance to one of the royal chambers. The guard disappeared with Gyles's request and a moment later he reopened the door to admit Gyles.

  The chamber was dimly lit by less than its full complement of candles and the fire in the hearth had been carefully banked so that while it warmed the room it emitted little light. Lustrous fur pelts littered the floor, tapestries sewn with gold and silver threads hung from the ceiling to the floor and in the semi-darkness they caught and reflected what light was available. Near the fire a shadow moved, then resolved itself into the form of a slender man.

  "Your Highness." Gyles bowed.

  "Lord Gyles." Henry's voice held a faint trace of amusement. "Rise, sit here by the fire. Wine?" Gyles shook his head and Henry settled back comfortably into his own chair.

  "I have come—" Gyles began.

  "I know why you are here, Lord Gyles. In truth, I expected you much later, but 'twould appear your wife underestimated the effect her absence would have on you. She was under the impression you would search here as a last resort."

  "Then you know—" A slim hand silenced Gyles yet again.

  A folded leaf of parchment appeared in Henry's hand and he extended it to Gyles. "She asked that I give this to you if you bothered to try and find her. Apparently she doubted your . . . fidelity." Henry folded his hands beneath his chin and turned to study the fire.

  Wordlessly, Gyles unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents. His face grim and his scar white when he had finished, Gyles carefully refolded the note and placed it inside his tunic before he spoke.

  "Do you know where Serena has gone?" Gyles, too, watched the fire.

  "Nay." Henry's eyes did not move from the flame.

  "Did Serena tell you what was in this letter?"

  "Nay." The quiet voice seemed to fill the room. At last Henry shifted to face Gyles. "Nor do I wish to know. She has fled from both of us now—I did not ask her reasons but did only what I could. All that she asked me for I would gladly have given ten times over."

  Gyles drew a pouch from his tunic. "Serena asked that I repay you for that which she borrowed . .."

  Henry sprang to his feet with a disgusted snort "Your lady owes me naught! Did you not hear? I freely gave that which she needed—all that I gave is hers, not mine! She is my friend! Between us there can be no debt."

  "Will you tell me where Serena has gone? I must find her." Gyles rose also and moved closer to the fire.

  Henry passed a slender hand across his eyes. "That in truth I cannot do, for she did not confide in me. She came to me before the evening meal to ask for a few coins. Did you know she had decided to run away alone? Without benefit of guards? When I learned she was determined to leave, I insisted she have a small escort. Four of my knights ride with her to her destination; she will return them to me when she is safe. I also gave her a steed, for she was determined to take nothing that belonged to you, and I would not see her walk."

  Gyles nodded and closed his eyes briefly. He knew Serena's temper well enough to believe what Henry said was true. And the emotionless note Serena had left confirmed Gyles's fear that she had told no one where she had fled. "I would question your guards when they return, Your Highness."

  "As you wish," Henry agreed. "It may mean prolonging your stay and I understand you must return to Camden to gather your men for my father's Scottish campaign."

  "Then, Your Highness, if you would question—"

  "No!" Henry wheeled toward Gyles. "That I will not do! Find her any way you please, but I will not aid you. Mayhap Lady Elspeth can help you in your search!" Henry brought his emotions under control with an effort. "I have done as your lady requested, Lord Gyles. My solemn oath to her is fulfilled. There is no reason for us to meet until my knights return. I will not strive to keep you from your wife, but I will not actively support your cause, for by all that is holy, you are not worthy of her. If you find her, remind your lady my offer remains should she ever have need of it. You are excused from my presence."

  Gyles bowed from the room and returned to his chamber. Serena's tapestry frame still stood by the window, its very presence accusing Gyles of his folly. Gyles strode to the bed and tore back the curtains to stare at the pelt-covered mattress. Cushioned in the middle of the fur—exactly as her note had said—were Serena's gold chain necklace and emerald ring.

  CHAPTER 12

  The greying, battle-scarred knight cast a wary eye at the growing cloud banks building in the evening sky. They foretold no good, he thought wearily. He could see the wind gathering in the clouds, which meant the castle was due for another pelting of sleet or snow. The knight drew his cloak tighter around his armor. Sleet, he thought unhappily. The weather had taken a decidedly evil turn since the young mistress had arrived several weeks ago. He glanced at the slight form that paced the battlements in front of him. He had not seen his mistress since she had been a lass of twelve and the promise of beauty he had seen then had come true over the past years. Although when she had hailed the guard the night of her return and he had first set eyes upon her, the sight of her bruised face had taken him aback. But the bruises had faded since then and the beauty had reappeared but with a lack of vitality. His mistress did not live, he reflected sadly, she merely existed, going through the motions of life without conscious thought. And where was her husband? Not once had his mistress mentioned his name or the fact that she had even wed.

  "Sir Cyril!" The lilting voice broke through the knight's thoughts, and with a sigh he moved to his mistress's side. "Some of these stones have loosened." A slender hand picked at the mortar and held the crumbled mixture for his perusal. "On the morrow gather some of the men and see to its repair."

  "Yes, m'lady." A gust of wind blew across the battlements, causing Cyril to huddle deeper in the folds of his cloak. " 'Tis likely to storm again tonight, Lady Serena. Twould be best if you retired."

  Sapphire eyes turned upward to reflect the light of the torches. "Dear Cyril, still afraid I will take a chill?" Serena laughed at Cyril's embarrassment. "Rest easy, Sir Cyril, I have long since passed the time when I am hustled off to bed by my nurse. See that the guards receive mulled wine every two hours to warm them throughout the night."

  Cyril's reply was lost to her as Serena descen
ded from the battlements. Her chamber greeted her with an enveloping warmth and Serena spared a brief smile for the young girl who was filling a tub with steaming water. Serena quickly disrobed and sank gratefully into the tub. A cake of soap was offered and Serena leisurely lathered herself from head to toe, allowing the delicate scent and hot water to drive the tension from her body.

  But while her body responded to the ministrations, Serena's mind busied itself with the repairs and changes that had to be made in the castle. Serena made certain that her thoughts were fully occupied during her waking hours, for in a moment's idleness her treacherous mind returned to Camden and a tall green-eyed man whose very memory could cause her eyes to fill with tears. Above all else, memories were to be stored away in a far portion of her mind, to be taken out later—years from now—and perhaps then remembrance would not be as painful.

  Serena rose from the water and toweled herself briskly, bringing a rosy hue to her satiny skin, before slipping into a nightgown. Serena eased onto the bed and drew the covers over her shoulders, deliberately closing her mind to the thoughts that hovered near her consciousness. "I want nothing from Gyles!" she had angrily declared to Henry, and now, Serena laughed bitterly at the ceiling. How could she forget, pretend an entire year of her life had never been? How was it possible to shut away the memories, the pain, the love? No, Gyles was a part of her, more so now than he had ever been; a portion of herself Serena could not always hide away.

  It had been easy at first; there was so much to be done to make her new home comfortable. The common-place needs of her life had occupied Serena totally until recently. Repairs to the castle and buildings were nearly completed; logs, food, all had been prepared. But now time was heavy on Serena's hands and no matter how hard she tried, Serena's thoughts turned more often to her ill-fated marriage. Serena delivered a solid blow to the pillow then sank back and closed her eyes, resolved to find sleep.