by Robyn Carr
“I am of the mind that naught will come of a marriage ill planned, and the best fruit falls from a tree grown in love. If he is not a criminal or unbeliever, then he is, in my mind, a good choice.” He touched her cheek with his hand, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. “And because you love him, he must be good.”
“Will you stand by me, Conan?” she asked.
“Aye. ‘Til the end of time.”
Edythe stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You are a good brother, Conan. When the time is right I will ask you to help me.”
Moments like this alone with Edythe, or hawking with Galen and sharing a close kinship, filled a place in his heart that had been empty. He promised his support to them both and found that adding these burdens to his already hefty load did not sap his strength, but made him feel stronger, surer. His loyalties had become many and varied. They fed his hungry soul.
He could not have guessed that his loyalty to his brother and sister would create ill feelings within the keep. Udele watched and worried with Edythe’s closeness to her brother. She could see that not only might Alaric encourage Mallory as a husband, but Conan might also. Udele cursed her daughter.
Lady Udele had delivered her second child only to see him die a few days after the birth. Her grief was felt throughout all of Anselm. She came with child as soon after that incident as possible, and Edythe was born. Her lost son had not been replaced, and she had no joy in her daughter’s birth. “What good is a girl?” she cried. “What can she bring to our estate?”
“Beauty and grace,” Alaric had returned angrily.
But Udele did not hold her daughter or nurse her. Before very long, Udele behaved in a more appropriate manner, accepting the baby, though in a more distant manner than she had with Conan. But Edythe never tasted the milk of her own mother.
Two years later, Galen was born to Lady Udele and she was more pleased with this addition to the family, but by this time Conan was nearly eight years old and had already shown his elders that he was of superior stock. He had been with Sir Theodoric for two years and had the promise of being a powerful fighter and leader. Udele had put all her hopes and dreams into that youngster. He would inherit, become rich and well known. She could relax in wealth and prestige, for Conan would never forget his mother. Edythe, Udele decided, was useless unless she could marry into a rich and prestigious family and give the de Corbneys a strong ally. Galen she saw only as a helpmate to her older son, not as a son to divide the estate. The fact that Galen was already proving to be a fine hopeful as Conan’s match did not alter Udele’s ambitions for Conan--or herself.
Udele was engaged in a serious discussion with Alaric when Conan entered. His mother sat in her chair before the hearth and Alaric paced up and down before her. Conan had only just left Edythe and her problems still lay fresh in his mind.
“I say the time is now. You needn’t allow for her approval, she is your ward. Select the one you deem best, remembering the state of the young man’s family, and let the wedding follow the coronation. If you truly care for her future it would be wise to insist she marry soon, before these wealthy young men lose patience.”
Conan stepped nearer the discussion. “Of whom do you speak, madam?”
“Edythe. She is past five and ten and must marry.”
“Must, madam? She will soon enough wed, and what purpose in a swift decision when patience and careful consideration can better guarantee her happiness and profit?”
“I see no need to be hurried,” Alaric said. “And the lass will be hard pressed to keep herself a maiden for long. The men all watch her now. She is beautiful.”
“Father,” Conan offered, “Edythe has spoken of marriage to me and in her heart she is wise. She seeks not power and wealth but a man of honor and deed. Those first to call bring their family names and their father’s money. Names lose their power and money can be lost. My sister seeks a more certain future. When all else is gone, a man’s honor becomes his strength. I say the lass will come to a wise choice in time.”
“The matter could be done now,” Udele argued. “What point in awaiting a silly maid who knows nothing of worldly ways?”
“Have you spoken with Edythe, madam?” Conan asked his mother. “I found her not a silly maid but a young woman of wisdom. And she alone knows her heart. Why betray her future to a man who can show his courtly manners in this keep, when in truth he may not be worthy? Edythe knows best whom she can live with.”
“Betray her? Am I not to be given credit for my ability to judge the character of a man asking for my daughter?”
“Aye, madam, for what you can see. But if there is no room in Edythe’s heart for the man you deem worthy, what chance has she for happiness?”
“Aye,” Alaric agreed. “Edythe is a bright maid. She will not fail me. And if she tarries too long, I will encourage her. If I have to choose for her, I will not hesitate.”
“You cling to your children, my lord,” Udele said scornfully. “You keep them too long in your nest and coddle their whims. They will become spoiled and unfaithful, that will be your reward.”
Alaric laughed outright. “Aye, madam, I can see before me the problems I have bred up,” he chortled, slapping Conan on the back.
He looked long and hard at Udele, ever wondering how she could find any fault in all that she had. Her riches were many, her beauty was enviable, and her children were fine and well bred. “I think I shall not worry about the wretched children I have sired. Rather I shall enjoy them, for I have more than most men.”
He turned to Conan, stroking the falcon on his shoulder. “I ride to the wood today to inspect a dam built by my woodsmen. Will you ride with me?”
Conan turned and walked with his father out of the hall.
Udele sat a moment longer and then signaled the manservant who was ever near to answer her call. Pierce came quickly to her, the same blind devotion that he had always felt showing in his eyes. Udele did not see it. All that mattered to her was that he was loyal to only her. He would carry out any plan or deed she designed and would not argue.
“Will you take a message for me? In your own hand?”
“Yea, madam. Have I ever failed you?”
“You are good, Pierce. Your reward will come.”
That was a frequent promise, but it had little effect on the loyalty he showed her. His reward was in being close to her every day, serving her every whim and protecting her against every villain. As he had promised her father when he came to Anselm, he would make her dreams and ambitions his own.
“I cannot deal with Edythe now,” Udele was saying. “My lord husband will not hear me again. But there is another matter that cannot wait. I must take money to London for a debt I owe. But Alaric knows nothing of this and I cannot carry the sum. You will carry it for me.”
He would not ask to whom she owed the money. It did not matter. He would gladly do as she bade him, however it compromised his own integrity.
***
Conan and his father were returning from the wood at a relaxed pace, their chore having been accomplished without problem. There was a thing that lay heavy on Conan’s mind, and in this private time he brought the subject to his father’s attention.
“Edwina has received a letter from her sister. It is as I suspected. Chandra will wed Tedric much against her will.”
“Pity,” Alaric said with a shrug.
“He buys Chandra’s hand with considerable wealth. Father, have you ever known Tedric to have money to call his own?”
“I have not followed the lad on his journey to France. Mayhaps he met some wealthy lord there and did a service for him.”
“Would Theodoric finance him in his pursuit of Chandra?”
“I have known Theodoric for a long time, and while he has given much to his sons, he has been most stubborn in his insistence that they make their own way as far as they can. He has complained that Tedric expects gifts he does not deserve. If he has given Tedric money, I would be surprised.”
“There is money he boasts as his own for the betrothal, but more, he has made Medwin a substantial loan. Is it possible that the money he loans Tedric is not his own?”
“Who, then, would give him money to secure himself a bride?”
“Jewish usurers?”
Alaric digested the possibility. “Whose name would he borrow in? Theodoric would have none of that.”
Conan did not like the alternative possibility and he did not wish to bring a slight to Medwin’s name in the presence of his father. He knew they had a long and valued friendship. “Medwin could have consented to the loan. Medwin has lands.”
Alaric frowned. “If that is the case, Medwin has been cheated. He has either lost Cordell to Tedric or promised Phalen twice: once to you through your marriage and again to usurers. I have never known him to borrow from the Jews. He traded with them fairly, but never borrowed.”
“I am not concerned with Medwin’s reputation; he is old and can be pardoned for his poor judgment. I fear he has compromised his daughter and fallen to the trickery of that knave, Tedric.”
“His sight has been dimmed by the brightness of gold. It has been hard on all of us to meet the Saladin tithe and keep our towns from starvation, but I would not think Medwin would sacrifice one of his own to meet the cost.” He shook his head sadly. “Medwin has suffered many losses in recent years. Millicent was taken from him and she was his best advisor. Edwina is gone and he fears for her health. Laine’s commitment to the sisters is a burden he has borne with strength, but I know he was displeased. I think his motives are right but his actions misguided.”
“Will you confront him, Father? Advise him yourself?”
Alaric nodded, and they rode on in silence for a time. Finally Alaric spoke again. “You show great concern in this matter. Is it because you so dislike Tedric?”
“Oh, I dislike him, Father, but it is not for that reason that I bring this to your attention. Tedric has been beating a path to Chandra’s door for some time, and she confided that she feared her father would insist they be wed. She does not love him.”
“Chandra’s battles are not yours,” Alaric advised.
“Should I ignore an injustice? If I fear Tedric lays a trap, shall I watch silently as Medwin falls into it?”
“And if Chandra had desired Tedric all along?” Alaric asked.
“Then I would not feel a fox sneaking along the ground in pursuit of unknowing prey. But if that were the case, Tedric would have but to pledge himself to Medwin and his daughter. I do not recall him offering so much wealth when he had bidden for Edwina.”
Alaric slowed his horse and Conan did likewise. Father looked at son and tried to see what more there could be to his concern. The younger’s blue eyes showed only his characteristic cool and confident detachment.
“And if she loved him, you would not be concerned?”
“I would be concerned in any business of Tedric’s, for I think little of him. But I would hold silent.”
“Three years ago you asked me if I would be pleased with Edwina as your choice of bride. I asked you if you loved her. You spoke of good faith, honor and oath. You spoke of desire and a pledge. You were a young man and I knew your word was your life. I will ask you only once, not because I doubt you but because I am your father. You have spoken for Edythe and your reason was love. You speak now for Chandra, your reason the same. Do you know now what love is?”
“No, my lord,” Conan said easily. “But I have learned what it is not.”
Chapter 11
By the second week in August the London streets were teeming with visitors for the coronation. Merchants found themselves rousted from their homes as nobles moved in and claimed them, tossing them a sack of money for their trouble. Even so reimbursed, they could not buy space in the city, for every stable and house was filled to the brim. Still, in this madness and confusion, every horn was raised in toast to Richard. And the excitement mounted as his entry into the city drew near.
Friends who had not met in some years found themselves together in the streets of London, making the most of the market and shops, enjoying parties and sports. Others did not find each other for days, the crowds were so great and there was no way of knowing where their acquaintance had found lodging.
The latter was the case for Medwin and his daughter. They had secured a fine hall from a merchant who could house many without putting his family to any great discomfort. Medwin sent out servants immediately to locate Theodoric’s and Alaric’s families, but neither had been found. Medwin had begun to think he would not be reunited with his old friends until he saw them at the coronation banquets.
He had kept his daughter within the confines of this London manor, for the pressing mob bothered him greatly, but he could contain her no longer. Chandra begged for a chance to shop and barter. Along with prizes that could only be found at the grandest of country fairs, the merchants brought news from faraway places and fascinating tales to tell that caused Chandra to be nearly hypnotized with interest.
She skipped from shop to shop to stand, to examine goods and argue with the peddlers. Merchants who had traveled to the East took advantage of the many visitors to London to bring out their wares. There were spices, brass, pewter and gold, ornately carved wooden furniture, stoneware and silver goblets and pitchers finer than any that could be fashioned in the small English burghs.
She could not pass a fabric for sale without touching and caressing, viewing for the first time the many luxurious silks and satins brought to the city by these widely traveled merchants. She leaned over a long length of silk and purred quietly as she touched the precious piece to her cheek.
“Cut the amount the lady desires,” said a familiar voice.
She turned to look into the eyes she remembered--the deep blue beneath his dark brown lashes. His hair was cropped shorter, his beard trimmed, his face bronzed. When his lips parted to smile at her, Chandra felt the same rush of joy and excitement that swept over her at every meeting.
“Conan,” she breathed.
“The cloth, Chandra,” he said. “As much of it as you would like. ‘Tis yours.”
“You must not, Conan,” she advised. “It is too generous.” She looked about a bit nervously to see if any member of their families looked on.
“While I’m able, Chandra,” he said softly, “let me make you this gift. ‘Tis not nearly what I would like to give you, but cannot.”
Flushing slightly, she turned to the merchant and gave him a measurement. The little man frowned slightly at the humble yardage and looked to Conan to see him hold up three fingers, ordering triple the amount. The merchant beamed and handed the entire bundle to Chandra, taking Conan’s silver eagerly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, tucking the fabric beneath her mantle for safe keeping.
“Unless you are asked, you needn’t mention it,” Conan told her, sensing that she attempted to hide the piece. “But don’t worry, Chandra. No harm can come from my simple gift, I will assure it.”
Quickly he inspected some fabric displayed and purchased some for his wife and his sister.
He took Chandra’s arm to lead her out of the shop, and in doing so he leaned near and whispered to her, “Do not think my gift a casual thing. Remember that I cannot easily show you the way I feel.”
“I will cherish the cloth, Conan,” she said, smiling.
“Your father waits,” he urged.
“And Edwina? Is she with you?”
“Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “She would not venture into these crowded streets. She is afraid of the mobs.”
“Poor Edwina,” Chandra sighed. “She misses so much of life because of her weaknesses and fears. Pray be gentle with her, Conan. I know she needs you.”
“She is well cared for, Chandra. I gave my word to that, and so I keep it. As for needs, what of mine?”
“You are strong,” she said softly. “I am strong. We can endure.”
Medwin stood against the wal
l of a hastily constructed merchant’s stand trying to escape the bedlam of carts, horses and people. Beside him stood Edythe, obviously left in his care while Conan looked for the shop where Chandra could be found.
Edythe rushed to Chandra to greet her, kissing her cheek, but she obviously had something else on her mind. She did not wait for the exchanged niceties.
“Knights of Richard, Conan. I heard a passing man say knights of Richard approach. Please, please, let us see!”
Conan smiled and took her hand and drew her to Medwin. “Edythe longs to see the army approach, my lord. Will you come?”
“In this madness? Bah! My time is better spent in a warm hall away from these maniacs. Nay, Conan, I will find my way home.”
“I’ll go with you, Father,” Chandra offered.
“Do you wish to see the army, daughter? I would trust Conan as your escort, if that is your desire.”
“Oh, come with us,” Edythe begged. “Later Conan can take us home and you may visit Edwina.”
Chandra looked between Conan and her father, and, when assured Medwin would allow this, she smiled and nodded. “I won’t be long, Father. Will you go to Alaric’s house?”
“They’re coming!” Edythe shrieked. “I hear a trumpet, it must be they! Hurry, Conan, I want to see them come!”
Chandra was barely able to wave to her father, she was so quickly drawn away through the crushing mob. Conan held fast to her hand, he being pulled by Edythe. To become lost in this city would be a nightmare.
They were pressed together closely, among the last to respond to the call. They could not see past the other spectators. Edythe wailed her complaints until finally Conan grasped her at the waist and lifted her above his head, laughing and trying to escape the skirts that threatened to smother him. But Edythe found a perch on his shoulder and was quite content. She called down to them how many knights she could see, what banners she could make out, and finally she wiggled in excitement and screamed, “Mallory and Sir Thurwell!”
“Where do they go?” he shouted.
“I cannot see. I don’t know where they will stop. The palace?”