Gilliane eyed the bath with trepidation. It was a large tub, a long oval, about twenty inches high smoothed and polished and oiled to prevent splinters. However, Adam was a very large man and the tub, owing to her fiddling with the water temperature, was rather full. Gilliane doubted that the tub would hold both of them. She was absolutely certain that, if they did what Adam obviously intended, most of that water would end up on the floor. She looked up from her slightly startled perusal of her fate to see Adam, free of his clothing, laughing at her.
“But, Adam,” she protested feebly, “I do not see how…”
Nonetheless, Gilliane had her cotte off before she finished the sentence. The idea was rather appealing. She had always taken a sensuous pleasure in the feeling of the warm water of a bath lapping around her body. The idea of that pleasure added to the delight Adam was offering interested her greatly. Still, as she tried to conceive of a position that would fit them and the tub, she began to laugh.
“You will not drown me, will you?” she giggled as her underdress and shift followed the cotte.
“Only in love,” Adam replied, getting in.
That surprised Gilliane. She thought she would get in first, but she was content to leave the management of so novel an operation in Adam’s hands and slid off her shoes and stockings without further argument. Trustfully, she put her hand into the hand Adam held out to her. His eyes were alight. He was sitting upright somewhat forward in the tub and directed her to slide her legs around his chest under his arms and place her feet behind him. It would have been impossible, because no person can stand at such an angle, but Adam had a firm grip on Gilliane’s hands.
Now, Gilliane swung free, supported by Adam’s powerful grasp on her hands. He leaned forward suddenly and buried his mouth in the mass of glossy curls that hid her mount of Venus. Gilliane gasped with surprise and pleasure at his tongue’s invasion, but the pang of joy undid her. Her knees buckled, sending her down upon Adam with a tremendous splash. She was not hurt because she landed on the flat of his thighs above the knees and from there slid down slowly. Both of them were giggling helplessly, but the laughter did not quench passion. Rather, it added its own stimulus so that when their mouths met a flame leaped between them that even oceans could not quench.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The deception Gilliane and Adam had practiced was not in the least successful, partly because the bath they took was probably the longest known for a keep in midwinter, partly because Gilliane’s clothes, discarded too near the tub, were soaked and Adam would not let her put them on lest she catch cold. Excuses enough could have been found for the wet garments—there was water over everything and Adam was known to be playful when taking a bath. No information could have been obtained from Catrin, who brought her mistress dry clothing and was the only one to know she was naked when the dry clothes arrived, because she was devoted and close-mouthed. However, nothing but the truth could explain the expressions with which Adam and Gilliane finally emerged from his chamber.
No one minded. No one said a word to them, even in jest. When Arundel raised his brows, Alinor laughed indulgently. “They are very young,” she whispered. “After all, she is not a maiden and has nothing to lose. Also, she has been greatly afraid lest harm come to Adam while he was in her service.”
Nothing could have suited Alinor better. She had sent Gilliane with Adam for the purpose of clarifying their relationship because Alinor had realized, even as she said Gilliane was bespoken, that she would have to tell Arundel the truth about the forced marriage to de Cercy and confess that Gilliane was not yet free to marry again. Too many people knew the situation existed, and Alinor was afraid Arundel might hear of it from someone else. She did not want even the faintest shadow cast on the veracity of the men and women of Roselynde. Once the story was out, Arundel would know Gilliane could not be betrothed to Adam, and he might have some hope of winning her estates for a member of his own family. But if it was made plain that Gilliane was already Adam’s mistress, Arundel would no longer consider her available.
In any case, such minor matters were soon completely forgotten. When the Earl of Pembroke arrived, all attention was focused on the state of the realm. Arundel was somewhat apprehensive. His parting with Pembroke the previous year had been rather acrimonious, Arundel shouting that oaths to a man who constantly violated his own could not be considered inviolable, and Pembroke shouting back that a man’s honor was his own and what others did was no excuse for dishonorable behavior. There was, of course, no trouble at all. Alinor had already written to Isobel, Pembroke’s wife and her long-time friend, that Arundel was expected at Roselynde and that, if her husband handled him properly, Arundel might be won back to Henry’s cause.
In fact, Pembroke’s own eldest son, William, had rebelled and joined Louis, only recently returning to his loyalty to Henry and his father.
Young William had been apprehensive when he approached his father, but he was received with joy. Wiser heads than his, Pembroke said dryly, had been confused by King John’s atrocities. The only shadow that fell between himself and his father was ephemeral and led to a firmer understanding between them. This occurred when Pembroke summoned his son out of the castle given into his keeping and bade him come along to Roselynde. Instantly, the guilt-scarred pride of the young man was touched and he asked angrily if his father felt he could not be trusted.
“Do not be an ass,” Pembroke growled testily. “If I did not trust you, this is one meeting to which I would never bring you. We will be planning how best to win back the coast. Do you think I would invite anyone I did not trust? Everyone makes mistakes, William,” he said more gently. “Forget yours, except as it has taught you a lesson. Fortunately, it turned out none so ill.”
“Then what do you want me for?” the young man asked, less aggressively but still suspicious. “I am no sailor, as well you know, and I do not have any knowledge of those parts.”
“If you will listen for five minutes without jumping down my throat to drag out words that are not there, you will find out. I want you to convince Arundel, who we hope will be at Roselynde also, that the king will not be ill disposed toward him if he should wish to repudiate Louis, and I want you to convince him also that he must not speak ill of John to young Henry. He may say what he likes to me and to Gualo, but not to Henry.”
“Oh.” William’s face cleared. It was altogether reasonable that he should be useful in calming the fears of others who wished to be received but felt they might be scorned or insulted. “I will, indeed, but surely, Father, Arundel will not speak ill of John to the king. John was Henry’s father, and—”
“There is no telling what a blockhead like Arundel will do. He would only be trying to justify his own actions, but…I cannot say anything to him at all, except sweet words, because…well, think how you take fire before I even say a word. Do you be careful what you say to him, also. His soul will be just as sore as yours—soothe it with the balm you most desire for yourself.”
Pembroke did not forget his own advice. He greeted Arundel as if a whole year had dropped out of time, as if there had never been any argument between them on the question of loyalty to a bad king, as if they had never been opposed in battle. At first nothing at all of a political nature was said. It was perfectly honorable to meet your opponents in battle as friends during a truce. It was young William who started the ball rolling by announcing to Arundel that he had left Louis’s service. Louis had violated his oath to stay in England, William said hotly, and thus freed his followers from their oaths to him. Arundel might be a blockhead, but he understood the usages of war. He knew Louis’s action was no violation of his oath, unless he did not return to England. Arundel, however, did not make the obvious point and later it was seen that he was in close talk with young William.
“I think we have him,” Ian said softly, and Pembroke nodded in satisfaction.
“Nor will he waver again,” Geoffrey remarked, his golden eyes thoughtful. “Also, he will be
active in casting Louis out. He is not merely trying to protect himself against all chances.”
“Matters look most hopeful,” Pembroke agreed. “I have heard from good sources that Louis had some trouble making his way from London to a port that would supply him with ships.”
Adam grinned. “The most direct route is Kemp, but he has never tried that. I have just closed the mouth of the Arun to Louis, also—and Arundel smiled on me. I met him by chance on the road and told him Wick had fallen. Soon I will close off Bexhill.”
“Not until after Easter,” Pembroke warned.
“No,” Adam agreed, “but not because it has anything to do with the truce. Bexhill is my vassal’s honor and her vassal defies her. Still, I could do nothing until the new year in March. Gilliane’s men have already given near their forty days’ service for this year, and I will not ask them to serve again if I can avoid it. Thus, I plan to move against Bexhill after the first spring planting, but I would be very happy to serve the king in this and will move when you bid me—if the matter is not too long delayed.”
“I thank you for the king,” Pembroke replied, his eyes fond as he looked at the worthy heir of his dearest friend. “Hold by your own present plans. I will let you know if some need of Daubeny’s should necessitate a change.”
“Who is this Daubeny?” Ian asked. “I scarcely remember the man. I thought you wrote he would come with you.”
“That was intended until I heard Arundel was coming also. I know that even if he does not come back to us, he would not act the spy apurpose, but…”
Pembroke did not need to finish that. The others nodded understanding. Arundel might not intend to betray them, but he might well say something without realizing its significance. Even if Arundel did return to his fealty to the king, he was not the safest person in the world to entrust with secret plans. There might well be in his household or entourage those who were in Louis’s pay. Arundel would never watch for spies. He did not engage in such practices himself, and was unlikely to think that anyone else engaged in them.
“As for Daubeny,” Pembroke continued, “he was warden of the islands of the narrow sea before Eustace drove him out. I bade him wait a few days longer. He will sail to Roselynde harbor as soon as I send him word we are ready. You need not mistrust Daubeny. Because he knew John so little, he loved the king well. He came to me as soon as he heard of John’s death to swear fealty to Henry.”
Ian’s brow wrinkled. “You say he loved John well, but I do not remember him to have been in any war of the king’s. How—”
“He was, Ian,” Geoffrey interrupted. “I know him. He is of the sea and directed the gathering and sailing of the king’s fleet. My father and I were much in contact with him when we sailed against Damme and in those other actions on the coast. He is a good man and knows the sea like a fish.”
“The sea? Our trouble is here on land,” Ian protested.
“We will soon be big enough to solve the problems in England…if Louis can obtain no more help from France. The Church is doing its part. The pope has sent strong letters to Philip, and Gualo hears that the king has yielded to the Holy Father’s threats. Besides, Philip does not care for England. He hated old King Henry and all his get, but I do not think he feels much against the children, especially John’s son. Now that Louis’s enterprise is beginning to cost more than it can bring in, Philip has lost interest.”
“Yes,” Ian agreed, “Philip always had a keen eye for what was worthwhile, and from what Simon said to me, it was Richard that Philip really hated.”
“He was always rather contemptuous of John,” Geoffrey added, “and the Battle of Bouvines seems to have cured whatever remained of his hatred because he now has someone to vent it upon.”
There was bitterness in Geoffrey’s voice. He had been wounded nigh to death at the disastrous Battle of Bouvines and would always walk crookedly because of it. Ian looked at him anxiously, but there was nothing of self in Geoffrey’s face. He regretted the lost battle, the comrades who were dead and those who were still shamefully imprisoned, treated like animals. His own injury meant little to him.
“Whatever Philip’s reasons, he is none so eager to support this venture any further,” Pembroke went on. “If, in addition, we close the narrow sea so that ships are lost to France, Philip will soon actively forbid any help to Louis rather than simply be indifferent.”
“That will take some doing,” Ian remarked sardonically. “Ever since Eustace the Monk quarreled with John and took Louis’s silver, we have near been locked in our own ports. Trade with the Low Countries is down to nothing, and Alinor is having fits at the loss in her revenues from Roselynde and Mersea. It has given me some work also,” he added dryly. “Our fisherfolk are faithful and give us warning, but if they did not, we would have reavers ashore all along the coast.”
“Yes, well, that is what is to be discussed with Daubeny. There is some money now for fitting out a fleet. If he is willing—and I believe he is eager—to take charge of it, we may solve that problem.”
“I do not believe Daubeny can conquer Eustace,” Geoffrey said. “The Monk’s successes and the liberties he allows his followers have attracted a very large number of captains. They are all little more than pirates, but they obey him because if they do not, he turns the others on them. Their profits are high, too, since they prey on all shipping and on the rich coast towns.”
“That will be as it may,” Pembroke replied with a shrug. “I do not expect to run before I walk. It will content me if Daubeny can capture or sink enough French ships to make Philip forbid the supplying of the French force here, and if he can protect enough of our ships and those of the Low Countries to bring trade closer to normal.”
“Most reasonable,” Ian agreed, but without much interest. He did not have Alinor’s passion for profit, and, although he was a brave man, the thought of fighting at sea gave him a definite sensation of chill.
“It is very interesting, indeed,” Geoffrey remarked with far more enthusiasm. He liked sea duty. “But what is our part in this? Does Daubeny wish to recruit from among Lady Alinor’s people?”
“That, of course,” Pembroke replied, “but far more important is the assurance of safe havens for him if he must run from a greater force or seek harborage in a storm.”
“Ah, I had not thought of that,” Ian confessed. “This is the right place for such assurances. Among us here, we hold harbors enough to make the attempt reasonable. Wales is safe, of course.”
“But too far from Louis’s usual path and too poor to make it of much interest to Eustace’s reavers,” Geoffrey commented.
Pembroke nodded. “And Cornwall, which is also safe, is much the same. By the time Daubeny reached those places, he could be wrecked or taken a dozen times. Portsmouth is the last harbor to the east that is the king’s—aside from Dover. But Dover is so often under siege that it is not a sufficiently reliable haven. The four other of the Cinque Ports are even worse. The mayors and people incline toward us, but the fortifications are held by men who have sworn, although they are now doubtful, to Louis. They are near ready to come to us, but they desire some assurance that the French will not send a large fleet against them.”
“And so you go round and round.” Ian laughed, a little bitterly. “Daubeny needs harbors, which the Cinque Ports will furnish if Daubeny first offers assurance that he will preserve them from attack by Eustace. But he cannot promise this until they promise harborage and repair facilities.”
“What is more, even Portsmouth is not safe with Roselynde sitting where it sits,” Pembroke remarked.
“What?” Ian exclaimed. “Are you mad, William? When has my faith wavered that you should consider Roselynde a threat?”
“Not I. I have sworn myself blue in the face that you are true as steel, but Daubeny has eyes and ears among the sailors and he has had reports of a French ship sitting in Roselynde harbor. Not only that, but sailing out with armed men.”
“A French ship?” Ian’s eye
s bulged. Had Alinor’s lust for profit or her desire to have a foot in each camp led her to consort with Eustace?
“It is not a French ship,” Adam said hastily. All three men turned toward him and he laughed irrepressibly at their puzzlement. “It was a French ship but is now ours,” he explained. “I mean it is Lady Gilliane’s.” He described the capture of the ship and the use to which it had been put since then.
Pembroke smiled at him. “Lady Gilliane has had a remarkable change of heart in political matters. She came to fix Louis’s power over Neville’s property and has become devoted to Henry instead. I wonder why?”
The teasing was meant as a compliment to Adam’s male attractiveness, but it touched a sore point. “Because those are the terms on which she continues to hold her lands of me,” Adam said rather harshly.
“Do you mean she has not had a change of heart?” Pembroke asked, rather startled. “Why, you have just told me it was she who ordered the French ship taken.”
“I do not know,” Adam replied unhappily, regretting that he had betrayed Gilliane. “She has never acted in any way other than in complete compliance with her oath to me. I do not know what makes me doubt—other than that she is a woman and oaths mean very little to women.”
“Alas, we all know that,” Geoffrey said, grinning, “but I do not think you need to doubt Lady Gilliane. My wife says she has no political particularity—which is also common to women—and Joanna sees clearly.”
Geoffrey did not say that whatever Adam believed in, Gilliane would believe in, but the faint smile on his lips and the cock of his brow made Pembroke nod. Adam’s doubts were a young lover’s nervousness. Adam flashed Geoffrey a glance of gratitude, wondering whether Joanna had really said that or whether Geoffrey had sprung to the defense of Gilliane as he would to that of any member of the family. There was a feeling of comfort in that and the tight look on Adam’s face eased.
Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four) Page 39
