by Jo Beverley
"If I break the marriage, I assume Jehanne will marry Lowick."
"Marry Lowick!" his father exploded, then hastily lowered his voice. "If you have her put to death, she'll not marry anyone."
"I couldn't do that. And neither could you."
"I could put her in a convent so tight, she'd never so much as set eyes on a man again."
"True, but Lowick could still petition to marry her on the basis of their true attachment, which resulted in a child. He might even be able to fabricate a case of prior betrothal that would satisfy a Church court. I couldn't swear old Fulk never thought about it before his sons died. And in that case, Lowick would get Heywood, at least as guardian for his daughter."
"The sun's fried your brains if you think I want that scoundrel sitting on my borders!" Red anger tinged Lord William's face. "Even in this last year he's been disputing rents, interfering with my tenants...."
"Has he? Then perhaps you'd better help me restore my marriage."
Lord William stared at him, caught mouth agape. "You cunning fox!" Then a glint entered his eyes. "Right, then. But she can't get off unscathed. You'd better start by disciplining her. A daily whipping for a month should tame her."
"By all means. Why don't you order it?"
His father growled at that. "Don't think I don't know why you hit her, boy." He worked his jaw anxiously. "Well, what in the name of St. John are you going to do, then?"
"Try to understand."
His father shook his head. "There's nothing to understand. She always panted after Lowick. Half the girls in the shire did, including two of your sisters. With you gone and her needs untended, she grew weak, as women will. I thought it unnatural for all you men to be going away for years. It's surprising the whole of Europe isn't littered with bastards! If I'd realized earlier—"
"No matter how sex starved," Galeran interrupted, "do you really think Jehanne would slide into Lowick's bed the day of her child's burial?"
William looked at him steadily. "She did, though, didn't she?"
It was like a shower of ice. For she had, hadn't she?
"So," repeated his father, "what are you going to do?"
Galeran hadn't the slightest idea. "For the moment I'm going to let her out of custody so she can resume her work. Unless you object. It was for attacking you she was confined."
William shook his head. "A gnat to an ox. And she had a point. I should have told you."
"Yes, you should."
"Mary's womb, but she's a difficult woman! She came to me when there was news of your death. Cool as water from deep in the well, but for all of that, I'd swear she was distressed at the possibility."
"I'm sure she was. Did you see her after the child's death?"
William shook his head. "Not soon after. It was a full week before we had word, and when I came here, it was as if nothing—no," he said abruptly, "it was not as if nothing had happened. She was like a walking statue. But she was taking care of business as if nothing had happened, and apparently had been doing so since the day after the death. Looks funny, that."
"And talk had already started."
"Aye, though at that time none spoke to me of her liaison with Lowick."
Galeran fought the urge to get up and walk away. He was going to have to get used to talking about these things. "When did you find out about that?"
"That's a good question." His father worked his jaw again. "It's been a busy year, lad, what with one thing and another. The Scots have been bothersome. The weather's been chancy. And then there's Flambard.... When we had word of your death, I sent messages abroad, to the Pope and to Constantinople, hoping to hear better news. Lacking good news to share, I didn't seek out Jehanne."
He reached for his ale and took a deep draft. "Turns out Will's wife heard rumors, but didn't want to stir up trouble, the silly besom. But it was too late by then, anyway. First I heard for sure was when Lowick petitioned the king that you be declared dead so he could marry your widow, who was expecting his child. I came here only to be refused admission or explanation! I was much of a mind to take the place then, but it makes no sense to put a castle through a siege if it can be avoided. Especially one that's in the family. So I went south to oppose the petition."
"What happened?"
"It was tangled up in courts and chanceries. After a while I left them to it, for I could see nothing would happen soon. What's more, I'd spoken to one sailor, who swore he'd seen you alive in Constantinople. So I sent off more messages to seek the truth."
"Did Lowick get any support from Rufus?"
Lord William's smile was grim. "There was nothing in the case worth the cost of offending me, though Flambard tried to sway the king. The bishop's had some long-nosed cleric hereabouts asking questions, but since I had that sailor tell his tale, no one wanted to be hasty. I fear the bishop's man will be back now, though, at the least looking to fine somebody for something."
"Money is the least of my problems."
"Hah! With Rufus and Flambard picking over England like crows in a cornfield, money'll soon be a problem nobody has!" William pushed up out of the chair. "Which reminds me. I'd best get back to Brome and take care of my own affairs. Unless you need me here."
Galeran rose. "No, of course not."
"You'll have a care..."
Galeran met his father's worried look with a bland one. "I don't feel particularly violent, and if that changes, Raoul's bigger than I am. He seems to have appointed himself my watchdog, and he is as tender toward women as you are."
Lord William just harrumphed and went on his way. The army had already broken camp, and it didn't take long for the orderly file of men and wagons to disappear over the hill. Galeran looked out from the walls as if for the first time. Heywood certainly seemed more like home without an army encircling it.
The enemy, of course, was within.
He sent an order to remove the guards he'd placed on Jehanne and to tell her she was free to take up her duties but was not to leave the castle. Though he hated to do it, he also spoke to Walter of Matlock, making it clear that Jehanne was to be prevented, with any necessary force, from leaving.
Next, he summoned the carpenter and commanded a new bed, ordering a new mattress as well. He hoped it symbolized a fresh start.
Then he ordered out his best palfreys, gathered his hounds, two promising hawks, and four men-at-arms, and set out to show Raoul his estate and a bit of hunting. The trip could take days if he stopped to talk to his larger tenants and the village headmen. Of course, if he traveled to visit the other smaller estates that belonged to Heywood, the trip could last weeks, but that would be taking cowardice too far.
Chapter 7
When Aline heard that Galeran had left, she hurried in search of her cousin, silently berating people who ran away from situations that needed to be faced. She was sure that Raoul de Jouray had something to do with it. He was just the sort of slippery, smiling fellow who would rather go hunting than tackle a thorny problem.
And thorny it certainly was. She'd never forget the clash of joy and raw terror she'd experienced when Galeran had appeared two days before. She was only just beginning to believe that it wouldn't be instant disaster. She wasn't at all sure disaster could be avoided entirely.
Eventually she found Jehanne on the walls, staring after the riders. Aline stopped at a distance, reluctant to intrude on a moment she scarce understood at all.
She knew her cousin well and loved her deeply. Some might think that stony face showed indifference, but Aline knew it was a mask to cover Jehanne's deepest pain. It was unfortunate, though. The mask was too easily misinterpreted.
As it had been when Gallot died.
Aline still felt guilt over that. She'd adored the child, and had been so distraught herself that she'd given little thought to the mother's pain. Instead, she'd fled to the chapel to seek solace in prayer. Perhaps if she'd stayed to comfort Jehanne, her cousin would not have ended up in Lowick's arms, would not have ended up trapped by
Donata.
If that night had been different, then Galeran's safe return could have been a time of wondrous delight. Instead, she remembered with a shudder the time between Galeran's appearance at the gates and the morning after, when he'd entered the castle.
When a guard had burst into the hall with the news of Lord Galeran's approach, Aline had thought Jehanne might finally faint, though even she wasn't sure how much of the pallor had been fear, how much shock.
Lowick had simply been furious. It didn't take him long, however, to realize that staying was certain disaster. Certain death.
Right there in the hall, Jehanne calmly urged him to leave. Aline wanted to shake her cousin, to tell her to say something warm about her husband's return. Instead, she was sounding like a woman urging her beloved into safety.
At least Jehanne was publicly refusing to go with him, stating before all that she would not flee her legal husband. It hardly sounded loving, though.
"Jehanne. My lady!" Lowick protested, and he at least sounded genuinely moved. "How can I leave you here to face him? You must come with me, or I fear for your safety, and for the safety of our child."
"Donata is too young for a wild journey, Raymond."
"Then leave her. Aline can hide her."
"She's at the breast."
"A wet nurse..."
"I will not give my child a stranger's milk, especially not to save my skin."
"There will be no milk if he strangles you!"
He tried to seize her then, but Jehanne whipped out her knife, and her men in the hall drew their swords. Lowick's men drew too, but they were heavily outnumbered, and so they and their lord headed for the postern gate in the dead of night.
With men of her own to protect her, Jehanne accompanied them down to the small door in the walls. Aline went too, wanting to make sure the chief cause of their problems left.
At the door, Lowick tried one more time to persuade Jehanne to flee with him. Failing at that, he fell to his knee to kiss her hand. "God protect you, then. And I will go to the bishop and beg his aid. He will speak to the king for us. I will find a way to protect you, a way for us to be together."
Jehanne, unfortunately, said nothing.
Aline muttered, "Good riddance," and prayed Lowick would quickly find some other propertied lady to prey on.
That wasn't fair, though, she thought as they all hurried back into the keep. Raymond was genuinely devoted to Jehanne. Perhaps that explained why Jehanne seemed so weak with him.
And there was reason for Lowick to fear for the safety of Jehanne and Donata. Men were not kind to adulterous wives and bastard children, and that knowledge haunted Heywood through a long, sleepless night. Aline, helping to prepare to open the castle to its returning lord, prayed earnestly to Mary Magdalene, patron of sinful women.
Dawn was welcomed as an end of waiting, though no one felt confident of what the day would bring. Jehanne, still outwardly calm, spoke one last time to her officers, making sure they understood their orders, and then tidied herself and went to wait in the hall.
When Aline realized she meant to greet her husband bastard in arms, however, she finally protested. "Donata is the only innocent in this, Jehanne. You can't put her at risk! Give her to me."
"No." It came out breathily, and Aline realized then that her cousin was almost faint with fear. Which meant she was not thinking clearly.
"Be sensible, Jehanne. You can't expect a man to be careful at a moment like this."
She tried to take the child, but Jehanne held on. "I won't hide her...."
"It's not a matter of hiding. Give her to me!"
But then Galeran was there, looming in the doorway, an ominously dark shape against the dawn sky. With a hiss of anxiety, Aline retreated a few steps, telling herself that Galeran had always been a rational, good-hearted creature.
For a man.
Aline had five brothers and few illusions about the male of the species.
Anyway, was this man the Galeran she knew? He looked a mess—ragged, gaunt, bearded, and filthy, with new scars on his face.
She almost wondered if it was him, until the dogs raced forward to welcome him home. He gave them their due, then looked up. As he walked toward Jehanne and the baby, Aline sucked in a fearful breath.
This man was not the Galeran she knew....
It had not gone too badly, all in all.
And yesterday he and Jehanne had spent time together at the bath. Then this morning Jehanne had been in the solar with him for quite a while, though she'd emerged stone-faced again.
Hardly surprising. Aline couldn't ignore the new darkness in Galeran's eyes and the sense, emanating from him like heat from a fire, of choked-off rage. She couldn't forget that blow.
Perhaps Jehanne was relieved to see him riding away for a few days.
She went forward to interrupt whatever thoughts held her cousin captive, and saw something else. "Tears?" Immediately, she regretted mentioning them. Jehanne hated to be seen crying. "Donata's hungry."
Jehanne wiped her eyes, then turned. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time." Calm again, she led the way down the steps to the bailey.
Aline hurried after, wishing Jehanne would cry in public, and often. It would soften the men up in no time. "What's going to happen now?" she demanded.
"I don't know."
"Didn't you ask Galeran?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Jehanne stopped and looked back at her. "Because he probably doesn't know."
Aline rolled her eyes. "You could have asked him. You were together this morning."
"We hardly spoke."
"But you were in there for ages! Oh..."
"Quite."
Aline could feel relief like a warm poultice to her heart. "Is everything all right, then?"
But Jehanne sighed. "No, Aline. Sex doesn't mend problems like this."
"What does, then?"
"I don't know." And Jehanne turned again to make her way across the bailey.
"You can't just put it out of your mind. You have to be prepared. What will Raymond do now?"
Jehanne stopped dead. "Raymond?"
"You remember Raymond," Aline said caustically. "The tall, blond one? He won't give up. He's probably doing as he said and trying to get the king's interest in his case."
"I suppose he is," said Jehanne, but her frown was thoughtful. "What gain to the king, though, in supporting Lowick against Galeran's family? And a returning crusader at that. They are the closest thing we have to living saints."
"So he'll have to give up?"
Jehanne turned pale. "So he might think of correcting fortune's move." She lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs to the hall, Aline pounding after.
"What?" she gasped as Jehanne shouted for her scribe. But then she heard the hasty note her cousin was dictating—a warning to Galeran to beware of sneak murderers in the woods.
"He'd try to kill him?" Aline asked as the scribe hurried off to give the letter to a fast rider.
"Why not? Why not?" demanded Jehanne, pacing the hall in a swish of skirts. "With Galeran dead, Raymond would once again be in an ideal situation to claim me." She suddenly stopped, hands gripped together. "Oh, if only I could ride with that note myself!"
"To protect him? Jehanne, he can look after himself, especially now that you've warned him. And he has that Raoul de Jouray alongside as well. All that brawn must be of some use."
Jehanne calmed and even laughed. "True. And I am resolved to have done with my fierce ways. Look what they have brought us to. I am going to put my trust in God."
Aline hugged her. "Then there is hope. And Donata is waiting, as you can hear."
Aline accompanied her cousin to the crying babe, sending up her own most earnest prayers for Galeran's safety.
* * *
Galeran was surprised by the note. He could read no particular affection in the terse words, but surely they must mean that Jehanne preferred him to Raymond.
Unless she
simply feared to be judged an accessory to murder.
With a grimace at his thoughts, he pulled up his coif and rode on, keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding countryside.
They slept that night at a monastery, one that prospered under the protection and endowments of Heywood. In fact, many of its riches came from Jehanne's petitions for a child.
The Lord gives to his people, but He also demands sacrifices in season...
Was that a part of the answer? Had his disgust and lack of faith at the taking of Jerusalem angered the generous God, and caused Him to take back his gift? Galeran was not accustomed to thinking of God as petulant, but he wasn't used to thinking of him as cruelly unjust, either.
As he and Raoul sat in the guest parlor finishing a fine meal, Galeran said, "You're being remarkably tactful. No questions? No advice?"
"Do you want advice?"
"Yes."
"But will you take it?"
Galeran grinned and mopped up a delicious gravy. "Probably not."
"Then it may be harmless to give it. Put her aside. She's a sorceress."
Galeran stared at him. "A sorceress? "
"Scoff if you want. No one who's under a spell knows it. It's clear the people in the castle think she uses magic."
"The people in the castle think she's strange because she doesn't always act like other women. She does not use magic."
"Then how did she get into your bed today?"
Galeran burst out laughing. "You can ask that? I was like a stallion with a mare in season. She had only to touch me."
Raoul leaned forward, jabbing a finger to emphasize his point. "That's because she persuaded you to that vow of fidelity. I always said it was unnatural."
"I persuaded myself to it, Raoul. It seemed right, considering what we were asking of God. And," Galeran admitted, "I've never wanted or taken another woman."
Raoul's mouth slackened with shock. "There. You see. Bewitched."
"Raoul, you might see that as a sign of bewitchment, but it's only a sign of devotion. If ever a woman conquers your wandering affections, you'll probably feel the same way. I met and loved Jehanne before I had much interest in wandering. And she is a special woman." He saw Raoul gather breath to speak. "But not a sorceress. She's the most down-to-earth woman I know. Which reminds me. Don't embarrass Aline."