“My lady?” the bishop prodded.
It was a none-too-gentle hint that she’d best begin her tale. At the same instant her father shifted in his stance to look across his enemy at his daughter. His icy gaze bore a hole through her.
Kate’s nerves twanged. His look left her as disconcerted as he no doubt meant her to be. How was she going to explain any of this without mentioning the uncapping of that lance? The story she had to tell was complicated enough without worrying over a stray word upsetting the delicate balance in the chamber. Mary save her, but they’d all blame her if this came down to war.
“My lord, I fear it was all my own doing,” she said in preamble, then couldn’t think of another word to say. The silence lengthened. The bishop drummed out his impatience on one arm of the chair.
“Today, my lady,” he commanded.
Her heart clip-clopped. She told herself to take comfort that she started at the middle of her tale. That meant no mention of her idiotic infatuation with Warin. At last her mouth opened. Words dropped from her lips.
“You see, I was heart-sore over what happened at the joust.”
There was a wary, worried rumble from the men around her. The confidence in Rafe’s gaze slipped a little as she stumbled too close to the truth. If it hadn’t been so frightening, the irony of it would have made Kate smile. All these men, afraid of what she might inadvertently reveal. The thought of so many powerful nobles holding their breath against what she, one insignificant woman, knew flooded Kate with a sudden sense of power. And that went far to clear her thoughts.
“So much anger and hatred over what was surely an accident, I mean,” she said, her clarification winning many a relieved sigh. “After the meal my father released me to join the other women in the garden. Before I reached the hall door I received a message from Sir Warin, bidding me to meet with him outside Haydon’s walls before he departed for the priory.”
“Outside the walls?” her father snapped, his voice a whip’s crack. “What sort of woman agrees to meet any man, alone and unchaperoned, while beyond the protection of walls? Moreover, what cause had my steward to believe you would agree to such a request?”
As he spoke he leaned forward to look past Rafe at his daughter. What Kate saw in his face sent irritation leaping through her. It wasn’t curiosity or concern over her misbehavior that filled his face. He didn’t care that she might, or might not, deserve the title lightskirt. All that mattered to him was reclaiming Glevering. Since his peers wouldn’t allow him to disown her, at least not here, then he meant to destroy her to win what he wanted from them.
The very unfairness of this, especially when his murderous attempt was the cause for all that happened, put steel in Kate’s heart. Let the battle be joined. She wouldn’t pay for his sin. She had sin enough of her own to worry over.
Head high, she fixed her attention on the churchman. “My lord bishop, Sir Warin and I had spoken a time or two at Bagot, as those who live in the same place are wont to do no matter their rank. Never in private, of course,” Kate added. Which was true; they’d never had a closeted conversation at Bagot.
“As to what we discussed,” she went on, anticipating the next sort of question her sire might ask, “our conversations were naught but pleasantries.”
That wasn’t a lie either, according to Lady Adele. Adele had insisted that what courtly lovers said between them must always be pleasant. Of course what these men assumed were pleasantries and what Lady Adele had claimed as pleasant subjects weren’t likely to be the same thing.
From the corner of her eye Kate saw Rafe’s jaw shift as if he fought a smile. So he would grin, for she’d told him the whole of her tale last night. She hurried on before Rafe’s reaction infected her.
“As for why I left Haydon’s walls, my lords, I took my lord father’s trust of Sir Warin as my guide. The knight’s message begged me to come so that he could assure me he wasn’t the villain the joust made him seem. With no reason to doubt him I went.
“My lords”--she looked at the men standing behind the bishop’s chair, for they were the ones she needed to convince--“in that moment, my only thought was to soothe the pain of my sire’s esteemed and trustworthy steward, a man I believed too harshly punished over what was sheer accident.”
How they would have groaned and gasped if she’d revealed her true purpose in meeting Warin was to confide that she’d witnessed her sire’s misdeed. What she next must say would cost her just as dearly. Kate drew a bracing breath, even as the heat of shame flamed in her cheeks.
“Here my lords, is the crux of mine own foolishness. My lord father is correct to say I should have asked maid or man to accompany me. God knows Adele de Fraisney taught me that. I didn’t ask because the animosity toward Sir Warin was so great that I was certain I’d be denied the chance to see him if I did. Thus, I knew I had to go alone and unseen from Haydon’s gates.”
At her admission of wrongdoing more than one man nodded, condemning her with the mere movement of their heads. But at the same time, new consideration filled the faces of her critics. They were listening even as they disapproved. Against that, she no longer minded the intensity of her sire’s continuing glare.
“How was it you accomplished that, my lady?” Lord Haydon asked. “The Lord God knows my folk have been taught better as well.” His stern tone said someone, most likely that handsome porter, would pay a price for what was not entirely his fault. That Kate couldn’t bear.
She faced her former host. “When I arrived in your courtyard, my lord, I found the servants dancing to the music from the garden. I waited in the shadows out of your porter’s sight, hoping for a chance to escape unquestioned. Just when I began to think my chance would never come, your man’s attention was diverted by the dancers. It was then that I slipped past him.”
“Jesus God!” her sire shouted, stepping around Rafe to face his erring daughter and waved a chiding finger in her direction. “It shames me to call you kin. No honest woman would ever have conceived such deviousness. But you, you speak about doing it with such ease that it makes me think you’ve done it more than this once,” he charged.
“Enough, Bagot,” the bishop warned again. “This is no church court to pass judgment upon your daughter’s morals. I only wish to know how she became your steward’s captive. She’s answering my question in full knowledge that what she says is to her detriment. Now, no more interruptions. My lady,” he said to Kate, “do I assume that when you met with him, Sir Warin made you his prisoner?”
“Aye, my lord,” Kate replied, once more turning to face him before launching into her tale.
By the time she’d recounted her attempts to escape Warin as well as his abuse, not mentioning the discussion of Rafe owning her missing ribbon, all but the countess’s marshal had slipped away from the bishop’s chair to take seats at the tables. When she told of escaping Rafe’s bonds to warn Glevering’s defenders against the Godsols, something she might have sworn was respect took fire in the eyes of the countess’s man.
“Which brings us to the question we most need answered,” the bishop said. “After so steadfastly resisting a wedding that was against your sire’s will, how can Sir Ralf claim you came willingly into your union with him?”
So stark and bold a question demanded an equally frank answer. Kate glanced at Rafe. He watched her in return, the confidence in his gaze having returned and grown threefold. Aye, but here came the difficult part of the tale. The last thing she needed was for these men to think she’d used marriage to Rafe to avoid a union with Sir Gilbert, which was certainly part of the truth.
Marshaling her tongue along with her courage, Kate started into her answer as if tiptoeing through a field of toadstools. “My lords, I knew nothing at all of Glevering when we arrived, having never seen the place that was my dowry. Still, I was determined to put barriers between myself and a marriage I knew my sire would despise. I barred myself into yon bedchamber”--she threw a gesture toward the doorway that had been her h
aven--“not realizing that there was a key that lifted the bar. Thus when Rafe”--she caught herself--“Sir Ralf opened the door, I knew all was lost. The Godsols now owned Glevering, which meant I was impoverished, as Glevering is, or was, my dowry.”
Here she paused to look about the room at the men who were her judges. They watched her in return, most in consideration, but others with a glimmering of respect upon their faces. Only her sire still glared, and that he did for his own reasons.
“Without a dowry,” she continued, her voice softening against terror impoverishment had set in her, “all I have to my name is my de Fraisney dower. That’s hardly wealth enough to attract any landed man, much less the man my father had settled on as my next mate.”
At the head of the room Bishop Robert nodded. “By the same token if Glevering was confirmed as his by right of conquest, Sir Ralf might well have looked higher than a widow with a few virgates and a mill to her name.” He knew well the property she owned, having dealt with the de Fraisney estate.
Kate sighed and boldly met the churchman’s gaze. “Exactly, my lord. Needless to say, it was no longer forced marriage I feared. Nay, I believed the Godsols were finished with me and would return me to Haydon and my sire.”
Rafe shifted at her side. Kate glanced at him in time to catch the slight shake of his head. In his gaze glowed the message that he’d never once considered rejecting her for another.
The corners of her mouth lifted as his assurance only deepened the love she knew for him. In the end, he’d wanted her more than Glevering, and that was wondrous for its own sake. She returned her attention to the room.
“Think on it, my lords. There was no chaperone to vouch for my virtue during my experiences. Who would believe me still a chaste woman? I was worse than impoverished and useless to my sire. From that time on I would have become a millstone around his neck, an embarrassment and a black spot upon his name.” Her voice thickened with the horror of the fate she’d only narrowly escaped.
All around the room, eyebrows rose and heads nodded in agreement. Even the countess’s man’s face softened. He knew well enough she was right to fear ruin, even to this moment, for these men might yet render her marriage to Rafe illegal, no matter how Rafe tried to twist them to his will. For hatred’s sake her sire would never let her remarry Rafe. After what she had revealed here today, nor would another man want her. Not even her father would keep her. Calling her a traitor to his name, he’d happily cast off his betraying daughter. If that happened Kate would soon be dead.
The lift of the bishop’s chin bade her to continue. Drawing a shaken breath, Kate did as commanded.
“You cannot imagine my surprise when Sir Ralf offered marriage to me. He did so suggesting our wedding would heal the rift between our two families, saying that it was past time for the animosity to cease. I didn’t accept solely to protect myself or my sire from abasement. To me, it seemed the best solution. After all, if I come to bed with an heir for my new husband, that child will have Daubney as well as Godsol blood in his veins. In this way my sire never loses Glevering, for one of his bloodline yet owns it.”
As the last word left her lips Kate congratulated herself. Why, she’d even convinced herself that marriage to Rafe was a boon, not a slight, to her sire. Beside her, Rafe’s eyes glowed with approval. A pleased murmur rose from about the room.
“Well said, my lady,” Lord Haydon called to her.
On the dais, what remained of the tension in the countess’s marshal drained from him. Setting his helmet at the chair’s foot, he took a step to the platform’s edge and looked out at the room. “My lords, as you well know, I come this day as witness for my noble lady. It would be well for you all to know that naught but a few days ago at the picnic my own lady voiced this very opinion. Before Lady Haydon she wished there might be an alliance between Daubney and Godsol and through it peace might be restored to our shire.”
That startled Kate, for it was more support than she’d ever expected from him. His piece said, the knight retreated to stand behind the prelate’s chair. No longer did he seem an unforgiving judge. Instead, his stance made him look like Gerard or Sir Josce as they stood behind Lord Haydon.
“What say the rest of you?” Bishop Robert asked of the room. “Sir Guilliame has offered his opinion as well as that of his lady. I’d hear what you think before rendering mine own judgment.”
“I say Bagot’s better off accepting this marriage,” the old nobleman replied, his voice as cracked as his face was lined. “Take it from me, Lord Humphrey,” he said, waggling a chunk of bread at his peer as if to drive home the point, “better that your daughter’s married, no matter what you think of the union, than that she makes no match at all. I’ve three girls for whom no man offered, they having no inheritance despite my efforts on their behalf. Now it’s my purse that pays the price, supporting them as they reside in barren uselessness with the Benedictines.”
He shifted on his bench to look at Lord Haydon. “I daresay Lord Baldwin here feels the same. He has four lasses for heirs and not enough property to divide between them.”
“I expect I do,” Lord Haydon replied quietly, a note of sadness in his voice as if the thought of any of his precious daughters being left without husband or home pained him.
Her father’s harsh snort dismissed both the men and their hapless daughters then he turned his back upon them to study the others in the room. His mouth took a sour twist at what he saw.
“You’ve decided, all of you. Each and every one of you sits ready to trade away my property on a cobbling of lies told by this foul woman.” With each word his voice rose.
Circling Rafe, he came to stand before his daughter. The cords of his neck stood out as his fists clenched. Deep rage glittered in his eyes. Kate took a frightened backward step. There was something unholy and ancient about that emotion.
“By God,” her father roared, “but she stood before you and admitted she was a woman of no morals! For that you reward her with Glevering? Nay, you do better than that. You’d have the spawn of mine worst enemy someday take my title through her.”
He whirled once more to look at his peers. “You’re thieves, all of you, and I won’t stand for it!” His hand dropped to his sword’s hilt.
Terror ran roughshod over Kate. Not certain who he meant to kill she threw herself at Rafe, as if nearness would save them both. Her husband caught his arm around her, shifting until he stood between father and daughter.
“My lord, your protection,” he called out to the bishop, but the prelate was already out of his chair and off the dais. The countess’s knight came with him, staying close to the churchman’s back. An instant later they closed on the nobleman. As Bishop Robert grabbed Bagot by his shoulders, the knight reached around his better to yank his sword from his scabbard. Kate’s sire shouted in outrage and whirled to face this new threat. The bishop gave the peer a stern shake.
“I warned you, Lord Bagot. There is a truce, and I will brook no violence here! Now, calm yourself and think. If you’ll but do that you’ll see that this is a reasonable match, especially given that you lost Glevering because of your steward’s treachery. My God man, this is in your best interest.”
Rather than heed the churchman her father pulled free of the smaller man’s grasp. “Damn you all! You’re stealing Glevering from me to give it to my enemy.” His cry was a pained roar.
“Bagot, what choice have we?” one of his erstwhile supporters called to him. “By your daughter’s words the marriage is made, the deed done. She was free to wed. You yourself bought that right from our king.”
Fists clenched against his brow, her father squealed in frustration, then threw back his head to shout to the rafters above him, “You know damn well I didn’t pay a fortune so she could play whore to my greatest foe!”
As if called to it by his words Rafe stepped away from Kate to the center of the hall. He held out his arms as if to gather all attention. “My lords, it’s a good point Lord Bagot makes.
He did, indeed, pay a fortune for the right to choose a husband for his daughter. Since what he did was to my profit I deem it only fair that I shoulder half my father-by-marriage’s debt,” he offered.
At once more hearing Rafe name him kin, her father’s face twisted until he looked mad. “I will be no relation to a thieving snake-eater!”
He lunged at the man he hated. Kate managed a tiny scream. Her hands clutched at her chest, as if protecting her own heart would save the man she loved.
As he’d done at the picnic, Rafe caught her father by the arms to hold him at bay. Together they wrestled their way down the hall’s length. Gerard and Sir Josce raced around the table to aid their friend while Will nigh on catapulted over a bench to reach his brother. Every peer within the room was on his feet, bellowing for his fellow to cease.
Naught but a moment later her sire was caught between the two younger men. Will stood panting at Rafe’s back, his hands opening and closing against his need to strike out at his enemy when he knew he mustn’t. Around the room not one man reclaimed his seat. Indeed, two of them went so far as to draw their swords.
“You pigheaded noble fool!” Bishop Robert shouted at the recalcitrant baron. “To attack Sir Ralf when he offers to take on half your debt says your hatred of this family goes too deep. For that sin can our precious Lord damn you. But here, through this wedding, has He given you the chance to release what eats at your soul. I beg you. Heed your Lord. Confess to what fouls your heart, bear your penance and heal. For the sake of God and this shire, make your peace with this marriage!”
“Nay,” Bagot’s lord howled to the rafters, “better that I die damned!”
Then as if what he said shocked even him, he sagged between his captors. “Better that I die than let that Godsol have my daughter,” he sobbed, his tone that of a friendless man alone and adrift on an empty sea.
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