Courtly Love

by Lynn M. Bartlett

  With trembling hands, Gyles poured a measure of wine and downed it in a single swallow. God, oh, God! Gyles laughed weakly to the empty room. The past two years might never have been; I am back where I started. No Serena, no love, no . . . For the first time since Serena's death a cry tore from Gyles's throat and he collapsed in a chair, his shoulders heaving with the uncontrolled sobs that racked his body.

  * * *

  Mara settled herself in the saddle, smiling at Arthur when he inquired as to her comfort. A movement from the castle steps caught Mara's eye and she glanced up to find Beda watching the departure, a satisfied smile on her face. Mara flushed guiltily when their eyes met, and she hastily averted her gaze as Beda laughingly disappeared into the castle. Arthur's affection and their marriage had given Mara the confidence in herself that she had so sorely lacked and now she raised her head defiantly. Beda had made her life a trial while she had lived at Camden and Mara was determined to put an end to Beda's infamous plan. Mara's eyes narrowed in defiant anger. Oh, Beda, you will sorely regret allowing me to know your secret.

  "Arthur!" Her husband was immediately at her side. "There is something I have forgotten. I must return to the castle."

  "I can do it for you, Mara," Arthur smiled. "There is no need for you to disturb yourself."

  "Perhaps," Mara said thoughtfully, " 'twould be best if you accompanied me—I may need your strength."

  Arthur looked questioningly at his bride. "What is it, Mara? What is it you have forgotten?"

  "Something I thought I should never have cause to speak of." Mara slid from the saddle into her husband's arms and gave him a solemn smile.

  * * *

  Beda stepped lightly into the small chamber from which Gyles conducted the affairs of his lands. Wooden shelves lined the walls and were strewn with leather-bound volumes, scrolls, and loose papers. Gyles rested against the table, his hands clenched so tightly against its edge that his knuckles had turned white. Beda gave him a triumphant smile and swept into a deep curtsy.

  "I had not expected your summons this quickly, dear Gyles, but may I admit it pleases me greatly?" Gyles remained watchfully silent so Beda plunged recklessly onward. "I have seen much that displeases me, Gyles, so I shall begin immediately to set things aright. Mara's and Lydia's chambers and solar will make an excellent nursery for your boys—and I do not want them to dine in the hall, Gyles, last evening was bad enough with Alan constantly underfoot and asking questions. Really, Gyles, 'twas quite intolerable!

  "Now, I plan to move into my old chamber immediately so what shall I do with those rags of Serena's? I had thought of burning them—"

  "Touch one item in that chamber and I will break your neck!" Gyles spoke the words so casually that it took a moment for their full impact to hit Beda.

  "I don't understand, Gyles, what—"

  "He knows the truth, Beda. I told him." Mara and Arthur stepped into the center of the room. "It does not speak well of me that I held my tongue for this long, but then I have been much the fool of late. I, for one, hope you are drawn and quartered!" Mara spat out.

  "Mara," Arthur pulled her gently away from Beda. "Gyles, should you have any further need of us, send a messenger at once."

  They departed and Beda, her face drained of all color, turned to face Gyles. His green eyes raked her from head to toe, his features impassive save for the whitened scar on his cheek. Braced for Gyles's wrath to explode, Beda returned his stare arrogantly. From the window came the sounds of the guests taking leave: laughing voices, the jingle of harnesses, the impatient blowing of the mounts as they waited for their riders. And still Gyles remained silent, his eyes like green flames burning into Beda.

  "Beda, you are the most lying, deceitful bitch I have ever known; and I am most tempted to end your rotten existence." At Beda's outraged gasp Gyles smiled faintly. "You have long said I lacked breeding—shall I prove it?"

  "I don't know what you mean." Beda retreated towards the door, then shrieked when Gyles grasped her wrist and thrust her into a chair.

  "You murdered your husband, Beda," Gyles stated in a flat voice. "Mara followed you that day—odd as it may seem, she felt Kier might turn his wrath on you and she did not wish any harm to befall you. She was hiding in the woods when I found you."

  " 'Twas Kier's plan," Beda admitted breathlessly. "He wanted you out of the way—"

  "After he discovered I was cuckolding him or before?"

  "After . . . no, before, he was jealous of you; he knew I loved you, wanted you, he thought—"

  "He thought if he could kill me, you would be faithful? Poor Kier—I can almost pity him. But why did you kill him? You were the lady of Camden; you had Kier wrapped around your finger, he denied you nothing."

  "Nothing!" Beda spat. " Tis exactly what Kier was —nothing. A weak, puling imitation of a man, the sight of him turned my stomach! Yes, I killed him! He was bending over your body—we both thought you dead— and I found a tree limb and smashed it against his head.

  "Had you awakened more quickly you would have seen me drag his body beneath a tree so 'twould appear his steed had carried him into a branch. Then, when you awoke I made you believe Kier's death was by your hand. Oh! how you believed me, Gyles. You were willing to do anything to keep your precious freedom. You even helped me weigh down his body and throw it in the river."

  Beda laughed harshly. "You were to wed me—not Serena. But Lord Geoffrey feared for his daughter—no dowry only a small estate—who would accept such a bride? And then Aurelia made a mistake, she mentioned to Geoffrey that you would take a wife. Twas a godsend to Geoffrey; you had no need for greater wealth, all you needed was a woman who could give you a legitimate heir.

  "We thought, at first, your marriage would make no difference to our plan. You were estranged from Serena, there was no chance for an heir." Beda jumped to her feet and began to pace wildly. "Then you took her to your bed, Aurelia failed to conceive and Geoffrey began to suspect that his sickness was unnatural—as indeed it was. The herbs Serena tended so carefully were most useful to us. One is particularly poisonous when administered in small doses over a long period of time. 'Twas easy enough for me to steal the herbs from Serena's chest and send them to Aurelia. Aurelia was certain Bryan would take her to wife when Geoffrey died."

  Beda turned with a snarl. "We are Normans! While we beggared our lands, Geoffrey's power increased—he gained the king's favor—and you, a baseborn bastard gained Camden. Camden should have been ours—William swore to my father that a vast estate of England should be ours upon his victory. But he lied! My father died in poverty, Aurelia and I were forced into loathsome alliances. Why should we not claim these lands? Twas ours in all fairness!

  "Your marriage forced us to rethink our plan—but you really made it quite simple. With Geoffrey's blood already staining our hands, shedding more could make no difference. All of Broughton's natural heirs must die— Broughton would come to you through Serena, and when she was gone, you would marry me."

  "And then I would meet with an untimely end?"

  Gyles forced his hands to remain at his side. They had planned it so well, all of Broughton's heirs would die, including Serena. They had never intended for him to live out his life with Serena.

  "Yes, you would have to die as well, but only after I gave birth to your heir. I truly wished you could live, but you see, if I was to control the lands, you had to die. We nearly succeeded—Bryan nearly died and Serena . . . if Richard hadn't lost his nerve ... he thought we would allow Serena to live, to run away with him. But Serena had borne you a child, an heir . .."

  "Evan." Gyles eyed Beda coldly.

  "Evan," Beda repeated dully. "We had to be rid of him as well, but Serena became suspicious, she never left the babe alone, and then she sent him to Camden with you."

  "You would murder a helpless babe!" The bile rose in Gyles's throat.

  "Yes!" Beda snarled. "The lands should have been mine. Mine! No one else had the right to them. No Saxon and not you!
"

  Beda flew at Gyles, her nails raking his neck, leaving four deep paths that welled blood. She twisted and turned as Gyles sought to control her wildly flailing limbs while avoiding her nails. Beda screamed and hissed, spat full into Gyles's face and wound her fingers in his hair. Gyles grunted as Beda jerked a clump of hair from his head and with an oath he slammed a large fist against her jaw.

  CHAPTER 19

  Nellwyn bustled into the great hall, a mother hen in search of her errant chicks, her color high and her eyes sparkling. "He be here, Lord Gyles, below in the courtyard. These old eyes have never seen such finery—looks like one of them ancient gods me lamb was always reading about. Alan, you come along now, 'tis time ye were back in the nursery. Where be Evan?" Evan's head appeared between his father's legs and he gave a merry gurgle to his old nurse, crawling with amazing dexterity beneath a table when Nellwyn made to pick him up.

  "Aye, ye little rascal, ye would choose to play yer games now!" Nellwyn scolded as Alan ducked beneath the table to join his brother. "Ye two will be the end of me—that be what ye wish?"

  "See what awaits you?" Bryan grinned down at Catherine from his place behind her chair.

  "Leave the boys, Nellwyn," Gyles ordered with a smile. " Twill do no harm. Alan, bring Evan out from there immediately!"

  The visitor entered and for a moment no one spoke, and then Catherine sank into a curtsy as Gyles and Bryan bowed. The voice which broke the silence was familiar, a thread of humor coloring the tone.

  "Rise, my lords and lady." Henry, youngest son of the royal family, dropped his sword onto a table and strode forward to greet each in turn. "Lord Bryan, you look well. And dear Lady Catherine—ah! my congratulations to you."

  Henry turned to Gyles, their eyes clashing in remembrance before Henry smiled and clasped Gyles's forearm. "As ever, Lord Gyles, you appear to enjoy the best of health. From the missive you sent my father, the king, I expected to find Camden a haven for carrion crows. And your lady, Lord Gyles, is she not present?"

  Catherine gave a muted cry and Henry looked at her sharply, noting the pallor of her face, which was not caused by the babe she carried.

  "We ... I thought word had reached the court," Gyles said in a quiet voice. "My lady was killed September last."

  A spasm crossed Henry's face. "We had not heard —my condolences, Lord Gyles. May I ask—"

  " Tis the reason I wrote the king." Gyles indicated a chair. "Will you not be seated, Your Highness? 'Tis a long tale and, I fear, a most unpleasant one."

  Catherine withdrew as the three men arranged themselves at a table. Bryan spoke first, beginning with the attack upon his riding party that had culminated in Serena's death and his own injury. Richard's part was explained, his murder of Aurelia bringing a pained expression to Bryan's eyes as he remembered his friend dying in his arms.

  "Will Balfour be taken from Richard's father?" Bryan asked of Henry. "He has no other heirs—not even a daughter—and he is an old man. Richard's death has broken him, the loss of Balfour would kill him."

  "He knew naught of Richard's plan?" At the shake of Bryan's head, Henry sighed. "In that case, I see no reason to bring an innocent man more sorrow. Balfour's lands shall remain intact. Proceed."

  Gyles took up the tale, his deep, melodious voice relating the plot Beda had revealed to him. Not sparing his own guilt, Gyles explained Kier's death and his own part in disposing of the body of his brother. His liaison with Beda Gyles kept to himself, for it had only a slight bearing upon the whole. He said only that he was to have wed his brother's wife. Henry said little during the narration, interrupting occasionally to ask a question, but otherwise he silently contemplated the coats-of-arms hanging on the wall.

  Justice—his father had sent him to Camden to mete out justice. How could justice be delivered to the dead? William Rufus should have been sent instead; he would one day rule England, not Henry. And he, Henry, was to sit in judgment, for when such wealthy lands were involved, William insisted upon discretion. Land! Henry sighed inwardly when Gyles rested from his narration to take a drink of wine. Two—-no, four, Henry corrected himself—four people sacrificed for a few acres of land. Four lives wasted; offered up on the altar of greed. Wanton destruction: disgusting and unavoidable.

  Henry's well-ordered mind rebelled against the illogical, improbable facts Gyles was so calmly delivering. Was it for this William had crossed the channel? So that innocents could be slaughtered, brave men had fought and died? This was the kind of legacy William Rufus would bestow upon England, Henry thought angrily. His brother would like nothing better than to have families displaced so the crown would fall heir to the lands and their richness. How William would enjoy destroying Serena's husband . . . and son. Oh yes, Serena's son, of that there could be no doubt. Henry studied the babe now playing quietly with his brother, a babe who in a different time and a different place might have been his own. Henry drove that disturbing thought from his mind and returned to his perusal of the coats-of-arms while Gyles concluded his story.

  "May I see Lady Beda?" Henry requested when Gyles had finished.

  "As you wish, Your Highness, but—" warned Gyles, "—'twill serve no purpose. Lady Beda will not answer any questions you may put to her and she will deny any charges I make."

  Gyles led his royal guest through the second level of the castle and up a narrow, winding staircase to a turret chamber on the side of the castle farthest away from the family wing.

  "I felt 'twas best," Gyles explained as he lifted the bar from the door. "You can appreciate my plight, I am certain, Your Highness. I have no desire for my children to have any contact with Lady Beda. And 'twas for my own sake as well; had she freedom of my home I believe I would have killed her."

  The door swung open to reveal a small but well-appointed chamber, the spring sunlight lying in bright pools on the worn stone floor. Henry stood to one side as Gyles closed the door and leaned back against the panel, placing himself between his prisoner and freedom.

  "Beda, I have brought you a visitor." Gyles's voice was cold, the hostility he felt barely concealed.

  Beda rose from her seat near a window. "Gyles, I must insist again that you release me immediately! I—" Beda's eyes widened when Henry stepped forward and she fell to her knees. "Your Majesty! How glad I am someone has come to my rescue. I have been kept here by this—this beast against my will."

  "On a mere whim?" Henry did not raise Beda to her feet but instead rested a hip negligently upon the table, his eyes hooded.

  "No whim, Your Majesty." Beda cast a scornful look at Gyles. "I cannot imagine what he has said that would bring you to Camden, but I pray you, do not leave me to his devices. He bears a hatred of the old lord's family and myself, and I do fear for my very life at his hands." Henry gave no sign that he believed her and Beda felt a moment of uncertainty before rallying her courage. Surely Gyles would not have mentioned Kier's death, for if he did, Gyles would also have to implicate himself. Beda resolutely squared her shoulders and pointed a shaking finger at Gyles. "He is responsible for the death of my husband, Your Highness. I dared not speak before now for he would surely have taken his revenge upon me."

  "You were at court two winters ago, were you not, Lady Beda?" Henry asked as he toyed with a goblet. "Why did you not approach the king with this matter?"

  "I-I dared not, Your Majesty!" Beda gasped. "He ... I was watched constantly."

  Gyles snorted in derision. "No doubt you were, Beda, but undoubtedly by whoever shared your bed, not by me."

  Beda's hissed intake of air brought a lifted eyebrow from Gyles and a quickly hidden smile from Henry.

  "Your Majesty, must I listen to insults from one such as he?" Beda turned an imploring gaze on Henry. "I appeal to you, Your Majesty—I have no one to turn to in my time of need, save the king's well-known justice."

  "And justice you shall have, Lady Beda," Henry told her with a winning smile. "I desire only the truth in this matter and would have your side of the tale I have be
en told. Please, rise, be seated. I wish you to be comfortable in the telling." Henry deposited Beda in a chair and waited, an expectant look in his eyes.

  Beda shifted beneath the prince's direct gaze. What had Gyles told Henry? Had he admitted his part in Kier's death or had Gyles merely laid the blame for Serena's death on her shoulders? Beda glanced nervously at the two men and suddenly wished she had never returned to Camden.

  "I ... I do not know what you have been told, Your Majesty," Beda said sullenly. "May I know the charges against me?"

  Henry drew back in surprise. "But, Lady Beda, what charges could possibly have been levied against you? You have said you fear for your life at the hands of Lord Gyles—I but wish to know why."

  "I saw Gyles murder my husband, Your Majesty," Beda repeated. " Tis because of that he wishes me dead."

  "If what you say is true—" Henry gazed thoughtfully at Beda "—in his place I would have killed you also. Immediately. Why do you suppose Lord Gyles waited so long?"

  "He ... he used me most vilely, Your Majesty! He made me his harlot—Lady Mara and Lady Lydia will testify to that."

  "Even after his marriage?" Henry glanced incredulously at Gyles. "M'lord, have you no shame? You preferred this—" he waved a hand at Beda, "—to your wife? I fear, Lord Gyles, your many years of warring have left you addlepated. But, Lady Beda, I have it within my power to set aright the injustices done to you." Beda's features brightened only to darken at Henry's next words. "You shall marry Lord Gyles and regain the position you were so shamefully deprived of."

  The look in Gyles's eyes stilled Beda's acceptance. Oh, no, Beda thought desperately. Where before her plans had centered around once again being the Lady of Camden, Beda now knew that if she agreed to Henry's offer she would be going willingly to her own execution. Gyles would not really kill her, of course, but his face told Beda he would like nothing better than having her at his mercy for the rest of her life. Gyles knew she was in part responsible for Serena's death and Beda would pay dearly for that guilt. Her life was far too precious to be wasted because of one Saxon's death.