The tune passed in silence and all the while Jewel regretted the things she had said. She truly did not believe Gunther had had anything to do with the tragedy at Harcourt, but her bitterness toward Amery had loosened her tongue. Yet what could explain Gunther's conviction that Amery was innocent when proof of his presence in the hall confirmed it? Jewel's brow wrinkled as she thought about it. 'Twas not eyes that had seen him but the necklace of his mother left behind to mark his being there, she mused. Was it possible that someone else had placed it where it could be found? Who would do such a thing? Radolf? Nay, not he. Radolf had loved her father as he had his own. He would not turn against him merely to entrap his half brother as Amery had implied. 'Twas too outrageous even to contemplate. Nay, if indeed it had been that way, then someone else had set the snare. And for what gain? Who would profit by setting the two half brothers at each other? Or was the intent to have Harcourt? Suddenly Jewel's breath caught in her throat. Had the plan required that she too meet her death and only her absence had saved her? Dear God! Had Amery meant to kill her too? She squeezed her eyes shut. Had he told his friend a falsehood that would allow him time to consider another method of disposing of her since he had failed with the first? A chilling fear raced through her and she shivered.
"Art thou cold, m'lady?"
Reminded of the other's presence, Jewel quickly opened her eyes and forced a smile. "Nay, Aselma. Tis only the excitement of being so richly clothed."
Putting away her thread and needles, the maid came te stand before Jewel, sighing approvingly. '" 'Tis thy beauty that enhances the simple cloth, Lady Jewel. Sir Amery will be pleased."
The smile faded and Jewel hurriedly looked away so that the young woman would not see the fear in her eyes and question its reason. "Then I must not delay a moment longer," she answered nervously, "lest he come looking for me." With a loving sweep of her hand down the smooth cloth of her skirt, she glanced up at Aselma and said softly, "Thank you."
"My honor, m'lady." Aselma curtsied, then stood to watch the slim figure gracefully leave the room.
With the newfound suspicions still haunting her, Jewel felt as if her feet were weighted as she slowly walked the corridor toward the stairway that would place her in full view of the great hall below, for she was certain Amery would be among those sharing the morning meal. Her only hope of escaping the plan he was surely plotting would be to remain in the company of others at all times. Her step faltered. But what of the long hours after the sun had set beyond the hills? What then? How would she protect herself when no one stood in the way? She shook her head. He is no fool, this crafty knight. To slay her while only he shared the chambers would quickly raise a brow or two. Nay, he would seek to make her death appear as if an accident had befallen her.
The sounds of men's voices mingling with the laughter of children floated up to greet Jewel once she reached the landing at the top of the stairs. She took comfort in the fact that she would not have to face Amery alone and wished that somehow business had taken him elsewhere this morn, leaving her to break the fast without his eyes upon her. With a simple glance her way, he could so easily unnerve her, and in view of all the thoughts that plagued her mind at the moment, to find those penetrating green eyes devouring her would have a most devastating effect. After her conversation with Aselma, she had realized no one would listen to her pleas for help if all at Burchard believed in their lord as strongly as the young maid did. Only Lady Anne offered any kind of hope, but even she would soon change her mind once she had talked with Gun t her. After all, what woman would go against her husband?
The gnawing in her stomach reminded Jewel that she had gone without a meal the night before, and since there was very little she could do at the moment to change things, she decided to appease her appetite first and build up her strength. When her chance came, she would have to be ready for it. Drawing in a quick breath, she squared her shoulders and started down the stairs.
It was as if a muteness had struck the inhabitants of the hall once her presence had been seen. The men fell quiet, the children stopped their play, and all eyes lifted to view the beauty that eloquently descended the stairs. Golden velvet shimmered in the sunlight stealing in through the tall windows and seemed to be reflected in the slight blush of her cheek and amber glow of her eyes, shadowed by the thickness of her lashes when she lowered her gaze. The cloth clung almost possessively to the slim waist and accented the fullness of her bosom, and tiny slippered feet peeked out from beneath the fox-fur hem of the gown With each step she took.
Uncomfortable beneath their silent regard, not certain if they disapproved of what they saw, Jewel concentrated on the stone steps and failed to see the one who hurriedly approached.
"Lady Jewel?"
Startled, she glanced up to find Hadwin's youthful face smiling back at her.
"Your beauty this morn outshines the sun," he whispered and received an embarrassed laugh from her in return. "Twould honor me if thou wouldst allow me to escort you to the table."
It seemed like such a long time since anyone had sought to flatter her that Jewel eagerly accepted his arm and smiled her appreciation as they started toward the others. But her pleasure was short-lived, for she looked up and found Amery staring at them, his face expressionless and his eyes the color of emeralds. The morning light streamed across the hall as if to single him out among the rest and Jewel was suddenly unaware of anyone else in the room.
* * *
"Didst thou sleep well?" she heard someone ask. Blinking, she turned her gaze on the one who spoke once she realized the question had been directed at her and noticed for the first time that Gunther sat next to Amery and Rickward flanked him on the right. Across from them, Stafford grinned up at her.
"Yea, Sir Gunther," she replied quietly, sitting down and silently wishing Hadwin had chosen a different place at the table for her when he offered a chair opposite Amery. She would be hard put to ignore his unspoken advances. "Hath Lady Anne yet to arise?" she asked, the silence seeming to engulf her as she focused her attention on the platter of meat and cheese before her.
"Nay," Gunther laughed. "My wife has never allowed the sun to find her still abed. Some problem in the kitchen has taken her there. She will return,"
Unable to look at him, knowing Amery still watched, Jewel toyed with the fur cuff of her gunna. "I must thank her for her kindness. I am not worthy of such splendid clothes."
"Nay," Hadwin exploded, easing himself into the chair next to her. "In truth, 'tis the other way around. Thy beauty only enhances the cloth and if it had a tongue, it would agree."
Jewel felt the light blush rise in her cheeks and she smiled at the young man's boldness. "And if I listened overmuch to the words you spill, Sir Hadwin, my head would swell."
" Tis only truth you hear," he assured her, then glanced at his cousins. "Is it not?"
"Yea, Hadwin," Rickward agreed with a grin. "For once thou speakest with knowledge."
Piqued by his cousin's insinuation, Hadwin stiffened. "I am not a child, Rickward. I am a score of years and have fought beside you in battle. I am a knight and a man full grown."
"And one who rattles on," Stafford teased with a chuckle.
"And thou art envious, cousin," Hadwin fumed, "I am not afraid to give a compliment where one is deserved."
"Afraid? Nay, not that," Stafford added, reaching for a piece of meat on which to chew. "Careless, perhaps." He leaned closer to his cousin. "Thou flatterest another's betrothed."
Hadwin's fair face paled all the more and he turned startled eyes upon Amery. Worry rode high and strangled the breath from him when he sought to explain to the one who studied him so intently. Gulping, he glanced at Gunther, then Rickward, then settled his attention on the plate sitting before him and missed the exchange of amused looks his cousins shared.
The tension that mounted in the ensuing quiet grated on Jewel's nerves. Although they had disclaimed their vow to wed, only Gunther knew of it. Had all at Burchard been made aware of their decision, H
adwin's innocent praise would have remained just that and the mood this morn would have been light. Now it seemed as if Hadwin had trespassed carelessly, unintentionally, and Jewel could only blame herself. It had been a mistake to dine in the great hall. She should have accepted Aselma's offer to bring food to her chambers. Eyes averted from those who shared the table with her, Jewel slowly reached for a crust of bread and a sampling of cheese, longing to flee to some dark corner where she could not be seen.
Lifting his tankard of ale, Gunther leaned back in his chair to quietly observe his friend and the young woman sitting across from him. He had covertly watched Amery's reaction when Jewel had stood at the top of the stairs and he had seen the slight lift of one brow in silent admiration of the magnificent beauty about to join them. In all the years they had spent together, Gunther had never seen Amery exhaust the merest effort to appraise any damsel. And when Hadwin had rushed to her side, Amery had straightened in his chair. Gunther bad not been able to see his eyes, but he was sure they had darkened, for the muscle in his cheek had flexed as he ground his teeth, and the knuckles of his hand had whitened as he clasped his tankard of ale more firmly than before. Hadwin's unmasked affection for the maid had spurred a jealous vein in Amery whether he cared to admit it or not. And with a little help from Gunther, that jealousy would fester and sorely trouble this self-proclaimed unobtainable knight, the lord of Burchard mused with anticipation.
"And what of you, my friend?" Gunther asked casually, studying the amber brew he held. "Didst thou sleep well?"
Laughter threatened to part Amery's lips and tugged at the corners of his eyes, but he made no sign that he suspected the underlying meaning of Gunther's inquiry, nor would he ever allow the man to know the truth of what had transpired in his chambers the night past. 'Twas painful enough that his friend knew this damsel had lingered in his thoughts as no other had done before, but should he learn that Amery had spent the long hours of darkness sleeping in a chair near the hearth, Amery would consider it a fatal Mow to his ego.
It hadn't been his plan to finish his bath, dress, and return to the hall and the festivities without Jewel at his side. Nor had he intended to drink so much ale that the simple task of climbing the stairs became a major feat. For the first time in his life— nay, surely there had been others—he had enjoyed the thought of finding a wench in his bed, one more beautiful than any he had ever seen, and the aching in his loins had burned deeper. The eve had been meant for sating that lust and though his steps were difficult, he had hurried onward. But once he had opened the door of his chambers and had seen the tiny figure asleep on the mound of fur pelts, the firelight glowing in the long, coppery curls, a tenderness had gnawed at him and his passion had waned. Could it have been the innocence of her face in slumber that had softened him? A sympathy for all she had endured? Or had his body longed for rest more than the satisfaction of his cravings? His brow furrowed even now as he thought about it, wondering if in truth he had only sought a willing partner, not a she-wolf. He had undressed her, covered her with the thickness of the furs, and gone to the chair near the hearth to contemplate this reckoning. Before he knew what had happened, he had fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with stiff and aching muscles.
"Was thy bed filled with thorns?" Gunther asked when he saw Amery rub the back of his neck as if it pained him.
Glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye, Amery replied, "The only thorns I feel, nosy one, are those surrounding your questions."
"My questions," Gunther challenged in a whisper, "or the attentions of another toward Jewel?"
Amery's eyes darkened instantly and without answering, he lifted his drinking horn to his lips and took a long swallow.
"Methinks," Gunther continued, "that young Hadwin will be pleased to learn Jewel is no longer your betrothed. Of course he is no match to you, but in time he will become a skillful knight and Jewel would do well with him." Resting his chin on the fist of his left hand, he studied the lad engrossed in conversation with his cousins from across the table. "Doth set my mind to wondering. Dost thou suppose their children would have the blue eyes of their father and tufts of auburn hair? Or perhaps Jewel's lovely eyes and bright yellow curls? Ahh, yea, Sir Hadwin of Harcourt. Doth have a noble sound to it. What dost thou think, Amery?"
"That you prattle like an old woman," Amery ground out.
"Yea, I suppose you are right. 'Tis Jewel's decision to make." Straightening, he leaned in to take a piece of meat from the platter. "But time can fly on swift wings and I think she will choose sooner than we imagine. Hadwin has a kind heart and gentle soul. He will place her on a pedestal and worship every breath she takes. Twill be a good union."
Although Gunther was truly not hungry, he chewed on the sampling of pork in an effort to hide his smile. Stealing a furtive glance Amery's way, he saw the slight flare of the man's nostrils and the twitch of the muscle in his jaw, and he knew his plan had worked. He would not push too far and limit his attempts lest they turn against him. To change a man's way of thinking would take time and Amery's would prove most difficult, but Gunther was determined to see it done.
"I shall speak with Lady Anne about it," he said aloud suddenly as if struck with an idea.
Amery turned a dark scowl on his companion. "Speak of what?" he demanded.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Gunther laid aside the meat and looked up, feigning irritation. "About Jewel and Hadwin. I think they should be allowed some time together."
Of a sudden, Amery's huge frame turned to granite, his emerald eyes flashed sparks, and before Gunther could ask what bothered him so greatly, Amery slammed his fist down upon the table's surface, startling everyone around them.
"Nay, Gunther! I will not permit it," he raged, coming to his feet.
"But Amery—"
"Enough!" he bellowed and quickly turned on his heel to stalk away.
Gunther watched the angry gait of his friend as Amery crossed the room, jerked his mantle from a chair, and stormed from the great hall out into the cold, crisp morning air. The thunderous banging of the door closing behind him brought confused looks from everyone except Gunther. He merely smiled, leaned back in his chair, and glanced over at Jewel with a non-commital shrug.
Hadwin, indeed! Amery thought as he marched across the yard on his way to the watchtower. That young fool doesn't know how to handle wenches. Jewel would have him following her around like a love-struck boy. His frown deepened. He'd probably do anything for her, including helping her find a way off this island. They won't succeed, he vowed inwardly. My eyes are too quick and will know what they are about before they have the chance to think twice on it. Jerking his fur-lined mantle more tightly around him, he headed for the doorway that opened up to a flight of stairs and the tower above.
A light snow had begun to fall and soon blanketed the castle grounds in a soft cushion of white. Amery viewed its subtle beauty from the tower, feeling the solitude it instilled as preferable to remaining inside near a warm fire. Gray clouds hovered overhead, choking out the morning sun and casting a somber mood about the land. The eve of Christmas would soon be upon them, and whilst most would rejoice, Amery felt a sadness tug at his heart. He had wanted to celebrate Christ's birth at Wellington, share a cup of wine with his father, and hopefully restore the love they had once had. But all of that had been taken from him and he had been cast out.
Turning, he watched the waves roll inland and crash against the rocks, hurling a wall of water high above them until nothing was left but a fine mist of crystal droplets that showered out and fell back into the sea. Countless times it seemed the ocean tried to weaken the fortress made of stone, to reclaim what had once been hers in a powerful assault of relentlessness, and suddenly Amery knew his mission. Evil would not triumph. With the unyielding determination of the sea, he would fight until the lands of Wellington once again belonged to their rightful heir.
"Didst thou have enough to eat, Jewel?" Anne asked with a smile as the
women sat down before the hearth in the great hall.
"Yea, Lady Anne," Jewel answered. "You are overkind and honor me with your hospitality."
"Nay, Jewel, 'tis I who is honored with your presence ... and please, call me Anne," she said. "I wish for us to be friends and not let formality stand in the way."
Jewel smiled happily in return. "Then that is how it shall be ... Anne."
"Good," she answered, leaning over to pat Jewel's hand as it rested in her lap. "Did Aselma serve you well?"
"Oh, yes, indeed. I have never had such talented fingers work miracles with my hair or redo a gown so quickly. Twould have taken me the day to do it alone."
"Tis why I sent her to you. She is the best in all of Burchard." Lifting the sewing basket from the floor beside her, she opened the lid and took out a bright blue cloth. "I am making this for Ella to wear on Christmas morn," she said, handing it to Jewel.
"'Tis beautiful," Jewel replied, holding up the tiny dress before her to examine. "I remember a similar one my mother—" Tears suddenly burned Jewel's eyes and she swallowed hard to keep them from spilling over the rims of her lashes. "Mother and I used to sit before the fire at Harcourt and sew dresses for my youngest sister. Ivy. She had blond hair too. Both she and Edwina favored our mother. But I ..." She paused, envisioning the amber eyes and auburn hair of her father.
"Please forgive me, Jewel," Anne spoke softly. "I did not mean to stir unhappy thoughts."
"'Tis not the thoughts that are unhappy, Anne, only that I will have no more to treasure. I must make do with those I have and pray time will not cause them to fade from my memory."
"But there will be others. Someday you will have a family of your own, children to bear, a husband to love," Anne pointed out comfortingly. "And you and your daughters will sit before the fire at Harcourt and talk of the families they will have."
"Nay, Anne, that will never come to pass. When this has ended, I shall join a convent and dedicate my life to God, for I have lost all trust in mankind. I wish to serve the Lord, for He would never forsake me in the name of greed as all others have."
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