by The Prisoner
“Trevor you were not there,” Stephen said, “but the three of us all saw Loutrant fall from the tower into the sea below.” He shook his head. “Nay, it cannot be.”
“Yet how do you explain these then?” Trevor demanded.
“The more likely explanation is someone wants us to think Loutrant is alive,” Lucien spoke up. “These little scraps are being placed around the castle so they can be found. It is no accident, surely, one was found in the stable fire. Likely the man who planted them also started the fire.”
Brian nodded his agreement. He had been convinced of the very same just a short time ago. At the moment he was gladdened Lucien hadn’t mentioned the possibility that the likely explanation was Brian had lost his wits.
“Who would do that though?” Trevor asked.
Stephen shrugged. “Loutrant’s half-brother Marcus. I’ve seen him on Fitzroy land before while you were still being held prisoner.”
“A good candidate, aye,” Brian agreed. “He’s always been under his brother’s thumb and is easily swayed to do Loutrant’s bidding.”
“Damn. What is that simpleton up to?” Lucien asked.
“I agree that it is the simplest and easiest explanation,” Brian spoke quietly. “But I fear it is not the real one.”
“Brian…” Stephen opened his mouth to protest.
He’d waited until the end to show them the other bit of evidence he had to prove Loutrant was likely still alive. Brian held out his hand, fist clenched, then turned it over and opened his palm.
“A ring?” Trevor craned his neck.
“Not just any ring,” Brian replied. “This is Loutrant’s ring. I found it in the graveyard.”
“I don’t understand,” his son said.
“He was wearing it when he fell from the tower,” Stephen said.
****
Brian waited in the courtyard for the king’s party.
They’d been spotted some time ago in the distance, but they had almost nearly arrived now.
Trevor stood to his right, Constance to his left. She’d been strangely quiet the last few days. Each night they came together to make love, but afterward she remained withdrawn. Reminded him of himself a bit.
Next to Constance stood Stephen. Lucien was lying in bed with a fever he caught when learning of the king’s impending arrival.
Why was the king coming to see them when he’d only been there a few short months ago? The question had been plaguing his mind since he’d received the missive.
“What do you suppose he wants?” Trevor whispered to his father.
“He’s not here yet, Trevor, you needn’t whisper,” Brian told him. “His message didn’t say.”
“Well, what do you think?” Trevor demanded, frowning.
Brian shrugged.
“You must have some theories,” Stephen added.
But he didn’t. Not a one. Brian supposed they were all used to the wisdom of Nick and were looking to him to come up with the answer. Only he couldn’t.
“I have no earthly notion,” Brian assured them.
“What do you think, Constance?” Stephen asked her.
“What?” She started.
Stephen smiled. “I was asking you why you thought King Edward was coming.”
“Oh, um.” Constance licked her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I am sure whatever Brian said is correct.”
Trevor laughed. “He said he didn’t know.”
“Oh.” Constance reddened.
“Are you all right, Con?” Stephen arched an eyebrow. “You seem miles away.”
“Aye, I am.”
“Miles away or all right?” Brian teased.
“Both.” Constance smiled, though it was forced.
Brian wanted to ask her what was bothering her but did not want to call too much attention to their relationship. They’d already been getting a lot of looks from his brothers and now even his son eyed them curiously.
For the moment, Brian returned his gaze and his thoughts to the king and his arriving entourage. They would be within the inner bailey any moment.
In the few months since Brian had last seen the king, Edward had lost weight and his bearded face was thin and gaunt. He leaned to the left side and his eyelids drooped heavily.
Brian moved forward to greet the king as one of the king’s advisors helped him down from his horse.
“Majesty, ‘tis good to see you again.”
Edward’s smile was strained. “Forgive my appearance, Fitzroy. I have been ill the last two days of the journey.”
“I will see you receive perfect care while you rest here, sire.” Brian called for a servant and then instructed the man to fetch the healer at once.
“Lady Constance, pray attend me,” the king said to Constance.
Constance hurried to the king’s side and took his arm.
Brian watched Constance and Edward head into the castle with the help of one of the guards who had accompanied him.
“Fitzroy.”
Brian turned toward the man who’d spoken. It was a face he recognized as someone he’d fostered with when they were both young boys.
“Thomas Wentworth?” Brian asked, just to be sure he was not mistaken.
The man grinned. “That’s right. I’m the Earl of Trumley now.”
“I am sorry about your father,” Brian said, patting Thomas on the arm.
“Yours as well,” Trumley returned.
“You accompany the king now?”
“Aye.” Trumley studied Brian hard. “How are you?”
“Well enough. And you?”
“Good.”
Brian asked the question most interesting him. “Do you know why the king wanted to come here?”
Trumley smiled and glanced toward the castle doors. “‘Tis no sinister visit. He likes the Fitzroys.”
Brian raised an eyebrow. “He never used to.”
“As long as he feels up to traveling, we will only be here but a day or two,” Trumley explained. “We are on our way to Lancaster.”
Brian frowned. “His majesty doesn’t have a reason to come here?”
“He’s been concerned about you since the Loutrant incident, Brian, ‘tis all.” Trumley sighed. “Unfortunately, yesterday he started feeling ill.”
“Our healer will see to him,” Brian assured the earl. “Come, you must be tired.”
“And hungry.”
Brian laughed.
****
“Who is that woman?”
Trumley, who sat next to Brian on the long wooden bench at the dining table, leaned over to whisper his question.
Brian followed Trumley’s finger. Constance. She had just laughed at something the king said, flinging her braid back as she did.
“No one,” Brian muttered.
“She’s beautiful. Come on, Fitzroy, who is she? You have no sisters.” Trumley picked up his pigeon leg and took a large bite of the bird.
Brian watched Constance in silence for a moment. She sat at the large table directly next to the king, whose color had already improved since his arrival. She did look particularly fetching in the deep purple gown with the forest green under-dress. Her raven locks were braided through with gold thread. He could hardly blame Trumley for his admiration.
“Her name is Constance,” Brian replied at last, his fingers tightening around his goblet of watered wine.
“And who is her husband?” Trumley asked, none too subtly.
Brian rolled his eyes. “She has no husband.”
Trumley’s smile brightened. “Oh?”
“Yet,” Brian added.
“Ah, I see. She is betrothed then.”
Brian wanted to seize on the idea. He enjoyed the look of disappointment on Trumley’s face. Constance was his. Wasn’t she? He glanced uncertainly in her direction. They’d spent a few nights together but they meant more, didn’t they?
Trumley finished the leg of pigeon and reached for the slice of rare meat on his trencher. He continued to stare at Con
stance.
“Who is her betrothed? Telford?” Trumley glanced around the table. “Where is he anyway?”
“He has gone to help Nick with his new castle.”
Trumley nodded. “I recall the king gifted Nicholas with the Loutrant place. So is he Lady Constance’s betrothed?”
Brian decided to be deliberately obtuse. “Nick has a wife…Marion. She expects his child in the spring.”
“Telford,” Trumley said dryly.
“Nay, Constance is not betrothed to Telford,” Brian said through gritted teeth.
“Surely not Stephen?”
The incredulous look on his friend’s face annoyed Brian. What was wrong with Stephen?
“Nay, ‘tis not Stephen.”
“Who then?” Trumley tapped his fingers impatiently on the table.
“No one, Trumley. Constance is not betrothed,” Brian snapped.
The interest sparked in Trumley’s eyes instantly. An odd, confident smirk came over his face. Brian itched to wipe it off. He was not jealous. Definitely not.
Down the table, Constance laughed at something the king said. Both men turned their attention fully to her.
“She’s absolutely captivating,” Trumley whispered. “You know, I have been looking for a bride.”
Constance with Trumley? Nay.
Constance with anyone other than himself was beyond comprehension. It was time to set his friend straight.
“Trumley…”
But the earl had risen from the bench and was straightening his tunic, his gaze fixed intently on his prey. He took a step forward.
“Wait. Trumley, wait.” Brian grabbed the man’s arm but Trumley shrugged it off and walked directly over to Constance, who smiled at Trumley in a way she had not smiled at Brian in a few days. His gut twisted.
It was nothing. She was merely being polite. But a part of him realized Constance might welcome interaction with a man who did not remind her of the nightmare of Loutrant. Her time spent with him was always touched with it.
Brian looked away from the sight of the earl with Constance. He stared down at his mostly untouched trencher.
“Is there something the matter?” Trevor asked him from across the table.
Brian attempted a smile but was afraid he’d failed. “‘Tis naught.”
Trevor inclined his head. “I’m not really very hungry. Do you mind if we go somewhere to talk?”
Relieved to escape his own absurd jealousy, Brian eagerly nodded.
“I’ll excuse us with the king,” Brian told Trevor, rising.
Moments later, Brian and his son had gone up to the battlements where all was quiet. Brian temporarily dismissed the guards from it and gazed out into the night.
“It’s colder out here than I thought it would be,” Trevor said with a scowl. He rubbed his arms.
Brian had to smile. Lord, his son still seemed so young. Had he ever been as young? Rash and impulsive, aye. Oblivious and insensitive, too. But as young as Trevor was? He didn’t imagine so.
Trevor didn’t say anything further for a while and Brian started to wonder just what his son wanted to talk about.
“Did you want to talk about the girl you slept with?” Brian asked, wincing at his own lack of delicacy. He never had been very good at this sort of thing.
Trevor flushed and quickly glanced away. “Nay.”
Trevor shifted away from the edge of the battlements and rubbed his arms. He looked vaguely uncomfortable.
“Well?” Brian persisted.
“I was wondering what your intentions toward Constance are,” Trevor said in a rush.
“What?”
“I know you’re, well, you’ve been with her, and I don’t want her to be hurt,” his son told him, developing a sudden interest in his own boots.
“Trevor…” Brian stopped, movement from below catching his attention. He leaned over the battlements and watched the hooded figure dash back toward the woods.
“What is it?” Trevor asked, frowning.
It was not possible and yet, Brian knew his eyes were not playing tricks.
I just saw Loutrant.
“‘Tis naught,” Brian said, not wanting to sound the alarm while the king’s party was among them. Later after the king was gone, Brian planned on telling them of the sighting. “The wind in the trees.”
****
A weary Constance opened the door to her chamber. It was late. She’d spent a good deal of time talking with the Earl of Trumley. A very handsome and charming man.
For just a time she was able to forget the thoughts plaguing her. But now, they returned.
She closed the door and turned to face her lonely bed.
“Brian,” she whispered, her heart leaping at the sight.
Her bed was occupied by one of the two men who filled her every thought.
His smiled brightened the candle-lit room and he pulled aside the furs, inviting her in.
It was an invitation Constance would not refuse. She pulled off her garments and cast them heedlessly on the floor. She went into his arms.
He kissed her lips gently, then pushed her head to his chest, gently stroking her hair. His arms around her were heaven.
“Tell me,” his said softly.
“Tell you what?”
“Something has been troubling you. What is it?”
She toyed with his chest hair. Lord, would there ever be a time when they could talk about something other than Loutrant?
She reached up and touched his jaw. When he looked at her, she leaned up and kissed him.
“I don’t want to talk, Brian,” Constance whispered against his mouth, echoing what he often said. “I just want you to love me.”
She meant it in so many ways, too. Physically, aye, but she wanted him to love her. Wanted him to be hers. Always. They were destined for each other. This Constance knew, even if Brian did not.
“Constance,” Brian started to protest, but she cut the words from his lips with another kiss, this one more insistent.
She knew the moment he surrendered to the notion of making love instead of talking. The tension left his shoulders, his jaw became less rigid.
When they came together, Constance felt safe, and loved. The need for talk disappeared, at least for a time. And she didn’t even think of Loutrant.
In the early morning, Constance woke, fully alert. Brian was gone. She didn’t know when he had left her. She touched the spot on her bed where he had recently lain, holding her. Mayhap it was time for talk between them. Things she needed to tell him and certainly he needed to share with her. Even if he would not admit it.
Constance rose from the bed and quickly pulled on her kirtle and surcoat. She hoped to catch him in his own room, before he left to break his fast or training.
When she reached his room, though, Constance discovered it was empty. Disappointment washed over her. Where had he gone? It was still dark out.
She grabbed her cloak from her own room and hurried down the stairs. Before going out, she checked the Great Hall and the kitchens. She could not find Brian.
The air was crisp and her misted breath swirled in front of her. To the east, the first rays of the sun appeared but overhead, stars still shone.
“Brian, where are you?” Constance whispered.
To the right and left of her were Fitzroy warriors standing guard over the courtyard. Neither paid her any heed.
Constance stepped down into the main part of the courtyard and glanced around. Her chances of locating Brian seemed slim. He could be anywhere.
With a snort of disapproval, she turned, intent on giving up her futile task and returning to her lonely bed.
Constance was grabbed abruptly from behind and slammed into a hard muscular form. She opened her mouth to call out to the guards, but her captor slid his large hand over her mouth, silencing her cry.
“Hush,” Brian said into her left ear, causing shivers to go up then down her spine. She relaxed instantly.
Constance reached up a
nd removed his hand from her mouth. “You scared me.”
“You should be frightened,” Brian said. “What the hell are you doing wandering around in the dark by yourself?”
“I was looking for you.” She pushed away from him and placed her hands on her hips. “Where have you been? Why did you leave so early?”
Brian lowered the hood of his own cloak and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk.”
“You should have awakened me. I could have thought of something to make you sleepy.”
He shook his head. “I did not think.”
“‘Tis you who ought to have a care,” Constance admonished him. “There are all sorts of dangers about.”
“I have learned to take care of myself,” Brian assured her. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, then he showed her the wicked sword he wore under his cloak.
“The finest of warriors can be overcome by surprise,” Constance retorted. She hadn’t grown up the daughter of a warrior and learned naught.
Brian smiled and pulled her once more into his arms. “As long as we are both awake, shall we watch the sun rise together?”
Constance quickly agreed and he took her hand in his and led her to a wall to the east of the yard, away from the prying eyes of the watchful guards.
In truth, Constance had never been an early riser and she could count on one hand the times she had witnessed the sun rising.
The wall was short and wide enough that Brian could sit astride it, and Constance sat with her back to him. She leaned into his arms.
The sun rose slowly, turning the sky first a light pink, then orange, the rays reaching out to touch the day.
Neither of them said a word, and for Constance, it was a moment to treasure. The closeness, their shared experiences, the solid strength of Brian. All these things surrounded her, holding her in their grip. She wanted it to never end.
When the sun had fully risen, Brian placed a kiss on the top of her head. The experience was over.
With a regretful sigh, Constance rose from the wall and held out her hands to Brian. He took them and stood up.
“What are your plans for the day?” she asked, loathe to let him go.
He inclined his head, a mysterious smile curving his lips.
“What?” Constance demanded.
Brian turned and pointed to the hill where the Fitzroy graves lay. “I intended to go there this morn. Before I must see the king on his way.”