“What guarantee do you desire?” he asked, and the deep voice was hard and angry.
The little core of warmth that Gilliane had carried all her life, that had sustained her through fear and loneliness and physical hurt, began to freeze and shrivel into nothingness. Calm with complete desperation and hopelessness, Gilliane began to outline the plan for saving the men-at-arms. When she had wrung agreement on that from them, she began to bargain for the safety of the castle servants. There was not much she could do for them except bind Lemagne, who had identified himself, with oaths to treat them kindly. If she could, Gilliane would have sent them out with the men-at-arms, but there was no place for them to go. No one would take them in. They would starve to death once they were cut loose from the place and people to whom they were bound.
For herself, she made no bargain. She knew that any agreement concerning her safety would be violated—Osbert had made her fate clear to her—and the coldness in the deep voice that had once signified love and safety to her confirmed the end of all things to Gilliane. She hoped, however, that the fact that she had extracted no promise concerning herself, and thus that no oath would be violated whatever they decided about her, would be an inducement to these men to honor the oaths they had made, which would cost them little.
To give Cuthbert and his men the greatest advantage, Gilliane dragged out the negotiations for two days. She dared wait no longer, partly because she sensed the suspicion and impatience in the besiegers and partly because she had no idea how quickly Louis would respond to Osbert’s plea. Whatever happened to her, Gilliane wanted the strangers well entrenched and familiar with the offensive and defensive abilities of Tarring before Osbert and his supporters returned.
After Mass on the third day, Cuthbert and his men being well and safely away, Gilliane gave orders that the drawbridge be let down and the portcullis raised. Then she went to the great hall and seated herself in the lord of the manor’s great high-backed chair. She did not feel afraid, except for a hollow trembling sensation just under her breasts. In her hand, Gilliane held her marriage contract to Osbert. She did not believe that could save her, but she wished to be sure that, if she died so that Lemagne could rule Neville’s lands, Osbert would be Lemagne’s next target.
Adam, Ian, and Geoffrey watched the opening of the keep with wary eyes. The whole thing had been suspiciously easy. In a way, it was reasonable. If Neville was dead, it was very doubtful that his vassals and castellans would extend themselves to protect his widow, particularly if they suspected her of murdering him. Thus, the woman must know she had no chance of holding the keep for very long. On the other hand, they were accustomed to Alinor and Joanna, who would never yield an inch of land, much less a keep, no matter what the threat. Also, sending forth the small troop of men-at-arms was a very odd thing. That might have been done to lull their minds. It was not impossible that a much larger force was concealed in the keep, ready to fall upon them as they rode in, and that the troop that had ridden out had gone to get help. If their entire force came through the gates, they could be trapped in the bailey and courtyards between the keep itself and the walls while a force of rescuers, fetched by the men-at-arms who had ridden out, fell on them from behind.
“But where is the problem?” Adam asked Ian, who was expounding these ideas. “I and my men will ride in. You and Geoffrey will wait outside. The first thing I will do is make certain that we control the drawbridge and—”
“No!” Geoffrey and Ian exclaimed simultaneously.
Adam looked from one to the other, irritation mingling with affection on his face. He was Ian’s “little son” and Geoffrey’s “little brother.” Neither could bear the thought of him springing a trap that either would gladly spring himself without a second thought.
“God give me patience,” Adam sighed, grinning at them. “I am not a babe, and I will be the least loss. You both have wives…”
“But I will have one no longer if Joanna hears that I let you ride alone into a trap,” Geoffrey protested.
“And your mother will be a widow in any case,” Ian pointed out, “because she will kill me for this.”
“Oh no.” Adam laughed. “You cannot make headway by that path. Neither of you is going to leave me to face my mother and sister with the news that you were hurt or slain winning a prize for me. If you are mad enough to put all our necks in a noose at once, you can come with me, but I intend to go in and, to speak the truth, I will be safer without your company. If it is seen that we are aware of the trap and the larger part of our force is safe and free to avenge me, likely the trap will not be sprung at all.”
Although they fretted and fumed and argued, it was so obvious that Adam’s reasoning was correct that Ian and Geoffrey yielded at last. They made a great show of massing their men and readying them for assault, displaying the scaling ladders and devices for crossing the moat as a warning. However, nothing moved on the walls that they could see. The drawbridge lay quiet, the portcullis did not quiver as if it were being held aloft to be dropped suddenly. Adam rode in at the head of his men. Their shields were ready on their arms, their swords bare in their hands.
All that met them was an unearthly quiet. No servants scurried about in the bailey and yards. No voice called to them. As soon as they were within, men leapt from their horses and rushed into the towers where the winches were that controlled the drawbridge and portcullis. The doors opened at their touch. The towers were empty. They raced up the stairs and out upon the walls. Those were empty also.
When the party from the left tower met the party from the right, a man rushed back to call down to Adam that all was clear. He, meanwhile, had charged the forebuilding with another group. Here, too, the door yielded to a touch. All was empty. Adam returned to the bailey, swallowing an ugly feeling of discomfort. It was like a place of the dead, or rather, a place under an evil enchantment. Cattle lowed gently in pens somewhere in the background. In the kitchen courtyard, one could hear the crackle of the cooking fires, but no single human voice or footstep aside from their own came to them. He sent a man out to summon Ian and Geoffrey. Whatever there was in this keep to fear, it was not a surprise attack.
After Adam’s messenger had recounted what he had seen, Ian and Geoffrey left their men outside and rode in alone. If Adam’s troop held the towers and walls, their men could come in any time. By the time Ian and Geoffrey entered the bailey, the eerie emptiness had had its effect on everyone within. Adam’s men held their arms ready and watched warily on all sides for they knew not what; their voices had fallen into silence.
Ian and Geoffrey dismounted and, with Adam and a few men-at-arms at their backs, they entered the forebuilding, climbed the outer stair, and walked into the great hall. There they stopped and stared. The hall was as empty as the rest of the keep. All alone in a great chair by the hearth sat one young girl. So surprised that they forgot to sheathe their weapons, the three men advanced upon her. Slowly, she rose to greet them, one hand gracefully on the arm of the chair and the other clutching tight a roll of parchment.
“What the devil are you doing all alone in this place?” Adam roared, hurrying forward.
He could not remember being so uneasy in his life as he had been that half hour he waited in the silent bailey. It was clear to him that the power that had engendered the silence was in this woman, and he was furious at being frightened half out of his wits by a slip of a girl.
“Adam, be still,” Ian said sharply. “The poor child has enough to bear without you shouting at her.”
Then Adam saw that the hand resting on the chair held so hard to it that the knuckles were white and the parchment was fluttering against the girl’s skirt with her trembling. That she was frightened made Adam a little remorseful, but no less wary.
“I beg pardon, Lady Gilliane,” Adam said more softly, and then doubtfully, “You are Lady Gilliane?”
“I am.” The voice was low but only a little tremulous.
“Perhaps I should not have spoken so s
harply,” Adam continued, “but I still desire to have my question answered. Where are the castlefolk? Why are you all alone?”
“I am here alone so that you may do what you will with me and not need to…to stop the servants’ mouths to keep your secret. You may tell them I was taken for ransom or any tale you will, and so they will serve you willingly and be safe.”
“What the devil did you think we were going to do?” Adam bellowed, losing his temper again.
“My poor child,” Ian said softly, moving toward her. Then he stopped, realizing he was still carrying his naked sword in his hand. He sheathed it hurriedly. “You are perfectly safe, both your person and your honor, I assure you.”
But Gilliane’s eyes did not move to examine the man who offered her that kind assurance. She stared at the owner of the voice that had lived in her memory as a symbol of love and now roared threats.
“Do sit down again, Lady Gilliane,” Geoffrey urged, also sheathing his sword and tapping the hand in which Adam held his weapon to bring it to his attention. Geoffrey was ready to be polite, but he was less softhearted than Ian and wished to be sure he was not confronting a clever murderess before he offered promises of safety and support.
Adam also put up his sword and then cleared his throat uneasily. He was suddenly aware of Gilliane’s beauty and of her youth. “I beg pardon again,” he rumbled, “but I do not like to be thought a liar. I passed my word you would be treated with honor. Why should you think we planned your hurt?”
Naturally, Gilliane could not say that she had been given good reason through most of her life never to trust anyone. There was thus no answer she could make, so she merely stared. Uncomfortable under the steady gaze, Adam pushed off his helmet and unlaced his hood. Gilliane’s eyes widened when she saw how young he was—and how handsome. This was no monster, she realized, this was the knight of her dreams, deep-voiced, giant-big—and he was forever beyond her reach. He believed her to be an enemy. It was the monster to whom she had been in thrall most of her life who made Adam Lemagne her enemy. It was the monster to whom she was married who told her Adam Lemagne would harm her.
Until that moment Gilliane had been totally unself-conscious. When one fights to keep abject terror under control, little things like the fit of one’s gown or a smudge on one’s nose are of no importance. Manners become insignificant when one faces death. It is sufficient if there is strength enough to maintain dignity. All at once Gilliane took in the fact that she was not going to die—at least, not immediately. With that understanding, the freezing despair that had blocked all lesser things melted. Then came a huge roiling mixture of all the thoughts that she had subconsciously suppressed, most of them utterly silly. Gilliane remembered with a horrible sinking feeling that she had not combed her hair that morning and, worse yet, she had not ordered any dinner to be prepared.
Chapter Six
No dinner! The ultimate sin in a woman’s household lexicon—and three noble guests to feed. When fear of death is conquered, lesser fears take hold. Gilliane uttered a faint squeak of dismay and looked wildly around for the servants. As she remembered that she had told them all to hide, her hand was taken and held gently.
“We mean you no harm. Truly, we do not,” a mellow voice comforted.
Gilliane looked up and gasped. Never in her life had she seen so beautiful a face on a man—and kind! The eyes were luminous with warmth, the mouth tender in spite of a stubble of beard.
“We know that to de Cercy we were enemies, but we do not make war on innocent women. If you have done no wrong, you will be safe.”
That voice was lighter, a pleasant tenor. Gilliane turned her head to examine the third man. He was smaller and slighter and not as handsome as Adam Lemagne, but the light-brown eyes that stared somberly at her were very keen. There was a faint stress on the words innocent and no wrong that had some dangerous meaning, Gilliane guessed, but her overriding concern was still the lack of dinner.
“And I still want to know where the castlefolk are,” Adam insisted, a bare tinge of anger in his voice.
As a magnet is drawn to a lodestone, Gilliane’s eyes came to Adam as soon as he spoke. Geoffrey raised his brows. Adam must be warned. The girl was a real beauty, yet different enough from both Alinor and Joanna that she might be especially attractive to Adam. If she was an innocent victim of circumstance, that might be a good thing, especially if she really was the heiress of Neville’s property. However, if she was a clever murderess, it would be a disaster for Adam to be entrapped by her. Adam was as passionate and headstrong as his mother, and Geoffrey feared that once his affections became fixed, he would be as tenacious.
“They are below—the men—and the women are in their quarters above. And I must fetch them at once,” Gilliane said breathlessly, finally answering Adam’s question.
Adam blinked. “At once? Why the sudden need for servants in haste? You were bold enough to meet us all alone. There are other things more important…”
Suddenly in the wake of the enormous relief of knowing she would live, Gilliane was swept with irritation. There were always things more important to a man than the preparation of dinner, but if the meal was not perfect and served exactly when that same man desired it, it was the woman, who had been told there were more important things to do, who was beaten. At that moment it did not seem significant to Gilliane whether she was beaten now for insolence or later for inefficiency. At least she would have the satisfaction of speaking her mind, since either way she would be beaten.
“There may be more important things to you, my lord,” Gilliane said, “but for me, who is responsible for dinner, setting the servants back to work—”
“You must be mad!” Adam exclaimed. “First you accuse me—without the slightest cause—of desiring to murder first you and then a whole castle full of people to conceal my crime, and now you begin in the middle of yielding a keep to babble of dinner. Is this a time to be thinking of dinner?”
“If you wish to eat it before it is totally dark, it certainly is,” Gilliane retorted smartly.
Ian burst out laughing and even Geoffrey smiled, although his eyes were still wary. Gilliane, who had tensed with fright a moment after the sharp retort passed her lips, stared with amazement at the three faces that confronted her. Adam looked bewildered, Ian and Geoffrey amused. Certainly none of them were angry at her sauciness. The breath she had held trickled out slowly.
“Both of you are so very right,” Ian said, “that I scarcely know with which to agree. I cannot deny that I would very much like a decent meal at a rational hour. Your household at Kemp, Adam, leaves a great deal to be desired, and I am tired of food little better than that of a camp served any which way at any time someone remembers to ask for it.”
Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, very well. I bow to the immediate needs of your bellies, or the next thing I will be accused of is starving my father and brother apurpose. By all means, Lady Gilliane, summon and set the servants to work—but do not forget to return to us here.”
She did no more than curtsy before she hurried away to start the life of the castle again. She now realized Osbert had lied about Adam’s desiring her death. Had he also lied about Adam’s desire to swallow the lands? But if Adam did not desire the lands, what did he desire? When he found that Osbert and Saer between them had stripped the castle of everything of value, every jewel, every mill of money, even every decent horse and piece of cloth, would he simply go away, leaving her at the mercy of her husband?
Gilliane never noticed that she had begun to think of the “monster Lemagne” as “Adam.” It was impossible to think of that very young, mobile face with any sense of formality. Contorted by rage, Adam’s face might be fearful; softened by love… Gilliane wrenched her mind away from that. She was married, and besides, he must have his choice of any woman he desired. He would never look at her. Still, it was not possible for her to feel a sense of distance. Adam’s expression, when he was not angry, was very open and…and…friendly.
In fact, Gilliane was so far wrong about the fact that Adam would never look at her that Ian and Geoffrey were watching his eyes follow her to the stairwell with feelings of considerable trepidation.
“Adam,” Ian said sharply when Gilliane had disappeared, “you have promised to treat the girl with honor.”
“What?” Adam murmured, pulling his eyes away and looking at Ian in a slightly bemused way.
“Lady Gilliane is your captive. I am no longer your master, my son, but I hope you do not intend to shame my teaching or Robert of Leicester’s by forcing your attentions on her.”
“Force!” Color rushed into Adam’s face. “No! How can you—”
“Adam,” Ian repeated reprovingly, “you know I do not mean you would knock her down and rape her, but…for God’s sake, you are a most desirable man, you know that. The girl is under your hand. You must not set yourself to win her into your bed.”
“Ian,” Geoffrey remarked, “has it entered your mind that Adam might not be the seducer?”
“Oh, come now,” Ian began to protest.
“Listen to me,” Geoffrey insisted. “Lady Gilliane had every reason to believe Adam was the leader among us. He parlayed with her from the wall. He spoke first when we came upon her in the hall. Although Adam did say we were his father and brother, that was afterward. Did you not notice that she looked nowhere but at Adam at first?”
“Well, if I were, a young woman, I would look at Adam also,” Ian pointed out merrily.
“Nonetheless, we must not forget the other possibility, either,” said Geoffrey, “that Lady Gilliane murdered her crippled idiot husband the moment his protector was dead, and that, having been forced to yield to our superior force, she intends to win her freedom from us by trickery.”
Adam flushed bright red, but his angry protest was drowned in Ian’s explosive “Nonsense!”
Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four) Page 10
