Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four)

by Roberta Gellis

  It should not be very hard to convince Gilliane to think the same way, if that was her problem. The matter of killing Osbert was different. Alinor knew from Adam’s face and manner that Osbert would die as soon as Adam caught up with him, even if the question of marrying Gilliane was not in point. In fact, there was no need to kill Osbert for that. The girl claimed she had been forced; thus, the marriage could be set aside easily enough. Since the French invaders were already in disgrace with the Church and publication of excommunication for them a daily possibility, the king’s friends were sure of quick and favorable treatment on any Church matter. Peter des Roches would bring the petition of annulment to the pope’s legate, Gualo, and he would pronounce the marriage void.

  Alinor said nothing of that to Adam. Until she was sure that her son had not sensed real evil under Gilliane’s sweet exterior, it was just as well they not marry. The legal impediment was useful because Adam was as stubborn as an ox. To caution him would produce little beyond a stronger determination to have his own way.

  Still, nothing he had said so far implied any fault in Gilliane. Further questions produced the information that Gilliane was determined to rule her lands in her own right—a statement that surprised Alinor very much, although she made no comment upon it—and that Gilliane had agreed to take Adam as overlord—which did not surprise Alinor at all. That last piece of information, however, produced the first uneasy look since Adam had first commented on Gilliane’s cleverness.

  “Why should she not take you for overlord?” Alinor asked, really puzzled.

  Adam looked past his mother into the flames of the great hearth. He wanted Alinor’s advice very much, but he did not wish to prejudice her against Gilliane. So far, Alinor seemed more inclined to defend Gilliane than to blame her, and Adam did not wish to change that. He loved his mother dearly; more than that—he liked her. He did not wish to lose her friendship and her astute counsel. But he had to have Gilliane. If it came to a choice, he would choose Gilliane. He did not wish to have to choose between them. He wanted his mother and his wife to like each other well enough so that he could have them both.

  “Mama,” he said slowly, “I intend to marry Gilliane. I cannot think of anything—except, perhaps, if she herself should refuse me because she craved another man—that could hold me back from that purpose. I hope for that reason that you will take her as a daughter. Yet there is something… I hope you will not blame her overmuch nor take her in dislike, but I think you must know because I will leave her in your charge.”

  “Something I must watch her for or keep her from doing?”

  “Yes, but…but I am not sure.”

  “Well,” Alinor said sharply, “out with it. What do you see in her that is evil?”

  “I think she favors Louis.”

  Alinor’s eyebrows flew upward. This was what was distressing Adam? “There is nothing evil in favoring Louis. For an Englishman, it is stupid, but Gilliane is French. In any case, why should I care for that?” she asked, not laughing only because she was afraid she had misunderstood Adam. “I assure you, even if she does have a way to communicate with the prince, she will not be able to hand Roselynde over to him.”

  Adam did not respond to his mother’s sarcasm. “But she says to me she will swear to Henry, blithe and free, and that her father was John’s man,” he said, following the train of his own thought.

  Now Alinor understood. Adam thought Gilliane was lying, not only about her political purpose, but about loving him. He was wrong about the latter, although it might be the conflict between her love and the cause she believed in that was making her unhappy. There was a flaw in that reasoning. Why should Gilliane be attached to Louis’s cause?

  “You think she seeks to turn you away from the king and to the French prince? Why? What has she done? Has she urged you to join Louis?”

  “No, never.”

  Having gone so far, it was useless to hide anything. Adam told about Gilliane’s resistance to his suggestion that he raid Lewes and that he take the keeps of any vassals who were firmly committed to Louis. But, he pointed out, in other cases, such as winning Sir Richard to his purpose, she had given him most excellent advice. Such a contradiction was certainly peculiar, but Alinor was no more positive than Adam what it meant. However, she assured him with a smile, she would not dislike Gilliane over a political matter. What she would try to do was to explain that, if Gilliane desired both to hold her lands and marry Adam, she would have to abandon Louis. There was proof enough that Louis would never permit an estate like Tarring to fall into the hands of an avowed king’s man.

  Adam was not perfectly pleased with his mother’s suggestion. To his mind it gave Gilliane too much leeway, but he heard Sir Andrew’s voice asking for him and had time for no more than to warn Alinor that Gilliane’s men knew nothing of either his doubts or his plans and that he wished to speak to Gilliane about marriage himself and she was not to interfere. Alinor’s lips twitched. She would certainly say nothing to Gilliane until she was sure of the girl. After that, she would do what was best for Adam without worrying much about his wishes.

  Joanna came down with Gilliane, who looked much better, just as the servants finished setting up for dinner. The scented bath she had taken had relaxed her. The quiet time she had spent in a well-outfitted chamber, Alinor’s warmth, and kindness, Joanna’s easy jesting, all combined to make her realize her fears had been foolish. In addition, she had no time to dream up new terrors because her mind was fully occupied making note of the elegance she saw—the little tables set beside chairs, the embroidered cushions to add comfort, the goblet of wine and water set beside the bed to assuage the thirst of sleep. She noted, too, Alinor’s manner and way of directing her maids. A glimpse of an embroidery frame holding a half-worked piece of exquisite design informed her that she had much to learn on that score also.

  None of this did much to bolster Gilliane’s ego, but it did not depress her, either. She knew herself very capable of learning such things and, if she had the materials, of producing a similar effect. Her only fears concerned Adam. If this was what he was accustomed to, was it the lack of such amenities at Tarring that had made him believe Gilliane was a lesser creature and could be used at will—as Saer used the maids? If so, it was only in his mind that she was dross. He had presented her with honor to his mother and had reminded her, when she herself forgot, that she was a woman of consequence, the mistress of a substantial estate.

  Also, Adam’s look when Joanna brought her to the table was first admiring and then questioning and anxious, certainly not angry or contemptuous. Gilliane smiled shyly. She knew she looked good. Joanna had brought her an exquisite dress, palest yellow over a darker gold tunic, all embroidered in gold that gave her skin a velvety glow. Beyond greeting, they said little to each other, although Gilliane was seated beside Adam. For one thing, Alinor dominated the conversation, which was her right and her duty. For another, Gilliane was busy absorbing the formalities of dining in a great house and taking note of the abundance and variety of dishes that were brought to the table.

  Gilliane was appalled, thinking of the pottage, stew, roast, and savory that she had presented to her illustrious conquerors. Well, Gilliane resolved, she would not make that mistake again, any more than she would omit the offer of a bath or the placement of a drink beside each guest’s bed. There would be cushions for the chairs at Tarring also, and she would learn the fine stitchery if Lady Joanna or Lady Alinor would teach her.

  Her determination was bolstered by pride when Adam offered his mother a formal compliment on the meal and then commented that he had twice had a ragout in Tarring that was the match of anything presented to him anywhere.

  “Then it must be close to angels’ food,” Alinor said tartly, but laughing. “I must tell you, Gilliane,” she said, leaning across Adam, “that my son could chew raw oats like a horse and not notice the difference. When I made the mistake of stopping at Kemp, I was near starved to death, and poor Ian has often told me
that camp rations have more savor than meals there. You must give me the making of this dish, if you will, for truly, it must be wondrous to draw Adam’s notice.”

  Gilliane disclaimed anything special but said she would write down the recipe, and the talk ran pleasantly on cooking until they rose from the table. Alinor then asked what the gentlemen would like to do, but, before she made a suggestion, it was seen to be raining. That ended all thought of any outdoor exercise. A maiden newly come to Roselynde for nurturing was asked to play the lyre and the blonde maid, Edwina, sang. Joanna drew Sir Edmund into a game of chess, noting with amusement that his attention was somewhat divided between his game and Sir Andrew, who was listening to the music with surprised pleasure. Adam seated Gilliane near his mother, beckoned to Sir Richard, and asked how many men he might borrow from Roselynde keep and hire in Roselynde town. Alinor heard Gilliane’s breath draw in and, from the corner of her eye, saw the girl’s pretty color had faded into pallor. Definitely something was wrong.

  Alinor pretended she had noticed nothing and asked, “How long a term of service and how far from here must they serve?”

  “Term of service? A month. If I cannot crack Wick in that time with a little more than five hundred men, I will need to call in my castellans on their forty days’ service for an offensive war, but I will not do that until spring. The weather has held very well, but it cannot be trusted much longer. The distance? Twenty-five miles or a little under.”

  “And how soon will you need them?” Alinor asked.

  “My lord,” Gilliane put in, “are you forgetting Sir Philip?”

  “Of course I am not forgetting him,” Adam replied sharply. “I will leave for Leith Hill after lauds tomorrow.”

  Gilliane paled still more at the angry tone, but her voice remained steady. Better Adam should be furious with her than in danger. Every hour she could delay the attack on Wick was an hour of safety for her love. “But,” she said, “from what Sir Richard told us, Sir Philip is a man of very thin skin. If he believes himself slighted, he may refuse to join your action against Sir Matthew. Then you will have the choice of fighting him also, or of having your authority set at naught and attacking Wick without the addition of his strength.”

  “What the devil are you talking about, Gilliane?” Adam snarled. “How will it slight Sir Philip if I go with your other men to—”

  “My lord,” Gilliane interrupted, knowing she would soon be unable to speak at all if Adam grew angrier, “you were born a man of great estate and Roselynde was your home. Thus, it is little to you, except for the joy and love you find here. But to me, it is a great honor to be a guest at Roselynde—as it is for my vassal and castellans. If Sir Philip is not invited to share this honor with my other men, will he not feel slighted?”

  Alinor raised her brows and widened her eyes. She, like Adam, would never have thought of it, but Gilliane was right. Adam opened his mouth to make a curt denial and then closed it. Sir Richard nodded his head solemnly.

  “Lady Gilliane has a strong point,” Sir Richard said slowly. “And I will add this. From a feeling of insult, suspicion will grow. Sir Philip will soon begin to wonder what we were doing here at Roselynde and whether we were planning something to his hurt. He is not a bad man, but…”

  “I see it now,” Adam snapped. “I wish I had seen it sooner. Why the hell did you not mention it this morning, Gilliane?”

  “I am sorry, my lord,” Gilliane replied, dropping her eyes. “We had so little time and you seemed—irritated when I…I thought you had some purpose that made it needful to come here quickly.”

  Clever, clever, Alinor thought. Adam was quite right, Gilliane was clever as a witch. Not only did she point out a difficulty that everyone else might have overlooked but she did not crow over her cleverness and even took the blame for Adam’s impatience and oversight without a hint of ill-temper. Alinor saw what was coming next, but held her tongue. Let Gilliane manage it if she could.

  “Well, now that it is thought of,” Adam remarked irritably, “what is to be done?”

  “How far is it to Leith Hill?” Gilliane asked.

  “I am not sure. Thirty miles, perhaps forty. Why?”

  “Then it is not too far. A messenger could be sent in one day to invite Sir Philip here, since it is no more than a day’s ride for him. You could blame your coming direct to Roselynde from Alresford on me. You could say that, although at first I thought I could manage, I found myself too shaken by my experience at St. Leonard’s to continue.”

  “That is indeed the answer, Lady Gilliane,” Sir Richard agreed enthusiastically. Sir Philip would not know this breed of woman any better than he had himself before he met Gilliane. He would believe she was prostrated by an abduction more quickly than he would believe she slew one of her captors, escaped, and talked calmly of how to win his service the next day. “In fact,” he continued, “if you will trust me, my lord and lady, I will go as your messenger. That will prevent Sir Philip from wondering if the message is a trap.”

  “I begin to wonder if Sir Philip is worth the trouble,” Adam remarked dryly.

  “It is not so easy to deseisin a vassal as to put out a castellan,” Sir Richard pointed out firmly. “Also, he is not only a good man of his hands and strong in action but is one who sees where the hands should be laid on and the action taken. Further, he does not like Sir Matthew. It will not be hard, I think, to induce him to bring as many as a hundred men—if you will bear part of the cost.”

  “That may be cheaper than hiring them from Roselynde,” Alinor suggested.

  Adam sighed. “Yes, I know. I did not mean it. The man must have his chance, just like any other. If you are willing to go, Sir Richard, I will be grateful. It will even save time because I can begin to recruit in the town.”

  “Do you not think you should send an invitation to Sir Matthew also?” Gilliane asked. Both men looked at her. “My lord, you just said each man must have his chance. Do you not think Sir Matthew should be told formally of my inheritance of the honor of Tarring—although doubtless he has heard by rumor—and also of what news we have about Lord Arundel and the treatment of the English by Prince Louis?”

  “But that will warn him that we are coming down upon him,” Sir Richard said harshly.

  “I did not mean that!” Gilliane exclaimed, looking frightened. “I only thought that he might see which way the wind blows and—and there might be no need to fight at all.”

  A glimmering of an idea came to Alinor. She understood from what Adam had said—if Gilliane had told the truth—that Gilliane had hated or feared every man with whom she was closely associated since she had been made Saer de Cercy’s ward. Naturally, she had not cared whether they lived or died, but her father had died in battle and so had Saer. If Gilliane associated fighting with death, it might be that she was only trying to prevent Adam from fighting, not trying to forward Louis’s cause. Alinor had never put much faith in Gilliane’s attachment to a political cause that could have little effect on her life. She was sorry for Adam, who, in spite of his irritation at having an oversight pointed out, had been delighted with Gilliane’s cleverness and helpfulness. Now unease showed in his eyes again.

  It was not an unease that Alinor would rush to dispel, even if she found her idea was right. Alinor, too, hated and feared war. She had waited all too often with a sick, heavy-beating heart for news of her loved ones. There were times when she could not look into her own eyes in the polished silver oval that served her for a mirror because of the terror that looked back at her. Her heart bled for Gilliane’s fear. Nonetheless, if the girl could not master that fear, swallow it, bury it deep behind laughing lips and downcast eyelids, she was not the wife for Adam.

  Subterfuge to prevent war, to encourage settlements by peaceful means, was good. If women did not engage in such subterfuge, there would soon be no men left, for they would all kill each other—half for fun, the other half for greed. However, emotional blackmail that left a man with a divided mind when he w
ent to fight was an extra weapon in an opponent’s hand. Gilliane might simply not understand that. If that were so, Alinor could explain easily enough. Then it would remain to be seen what the girl would do. By God, Alinor thought, such an explanation would answer both questions at once. If Gilliane’s opposition to taking Wick came from her love for and fear for Adam—and if she cared more for Adam than for her own comfort—the opposition would stop at once. If Gilliane was incapable of setting Adam’s welfare—either political or physical—ahead of her own, she would continue her attempts to dissuade him from bringing Sir Matthew to heel.

  While she had been considering Gilliane’s purpose, Alinor had been watching her son. He was not completely reassured by Gilliane’s disclaimer, but in considering it, an idea had come to him and he began to smile.

  “There is no reason why an invitation to Roselynde to meet his overlady should warn Sir Matthew of any danger to himself if it is phrased correctly,” Adam said to Sir Richard. “Moreover,” he added, smiling more broadly, “if he does not answer or refuses to come, he will have given us legal cause to move against him without further warning and without any challenge. What is more, since Wick is not more than twenty miles—it is less, in fact—we can move as soon as Sir Philip is here and has agreed to our plans. Even if Sir Matthew has taken fright from the letter, what could he do in a few days to bolster his defenses that he could not do if I sent a challenge?”