Lady Betrayed

by Tamara Leigh

  She smoothed her skirts, straightened her girdle, and raised her chin.

  The hall quieted when she stepped off the stairs, and Gabriel rose from the high table. “Lady Juliana,” he said, voice tight.

  “My lord.” She glanced at Sir Erec who sat to the right of Gabriel—her sister’s champion, she prayed.

  “Continue!” Gabriel ordered.

  The noisy business of eating resumed. Still, Juliana was watched as she crossed the hall. The people were curious about the woman no longer called Mary.

  Gabriel strode from behind the table and met her alongside the dais. Bending near, he said, “What do you out of bed?”

  “Is not the better question—for what do you keep yourself from your son? And me?”

  His lids flickered.

  Guilt, Juliana named it. Though he knew Bernart was undeserving, he could not cast it off.

  He took her elbow. “You shall sit at my side.”

  At their approach, the knight to the left of Gabriel’s chair picked up his trencher and exchanged his seat for a length of bench.

  “I am gladdened to see you again, Sir Erec,” Juliana said when Gabriel handed her into the vacated chair.

  His smile was strained. “As I am to see you, my lady.”

  He was displeased. With her? Or the task Gabriel set him when he preferred the defense of Mergot over a long journey to search out a frightened young woman?

  “You shall share my trencher,” Gabriel said and called, “Drink for Lady Juliana!”

  Shortly, a servant delivered a goblet.

  Juliana sipped and was relieved the wine was heavily watered. Her stomach was too wayward for anything stronger. More, the midwife had warned that what she ate and drank would be passed to the babe through her milk.

  “You may share my dagger.” Gabriel offered it and, as she speared a chunk of meat from his trencher, turned to Sir Erec and spoke in hushed tones she could not separate from the noise in the hall.

  Was it Alaiz they spoke of? Unfortunately, the matter was not easily discussed among three at meal. But afterward they would.

  An hour later, Gabriel ended the meal and turned to her. “Join us in the solar?”

  “I thank you.” She pressed her palms to the table to lever up, but he raised her beside him.

  Sir Erec following, Gabriel steered her across the hall and up the stairs.

  A fire was lit in his chamber. As Sir Erec turned his back to the hearth, Gabriel guided her to a chair.

  “I prefer to stand,” she said.

  He frowned, then realization of her discomfort shone from his face. “Of course.” He stepped alongside Sir Erec, and the flash of light upon their belts drew her regard to the jeweled Wulfrith daggers. Had Bernart’s ever looked as well upon him as Gabriel’s and Sir Erec’s looked upon them?

  “We have discussed at length the undertaking to find your sister,” Gabriel said.

  “And?”

  “The search could prove formidable. Know you where she might have fled?”

  That required no thought, Juliana having pondered it often. “I do not, though I am certain she will not have returned to our mother lest our brother’s guardian gives her into the sheriff’s hands.”

  “What of other family?” Sir Erec asked.

  She shook her head. “As they would not take her into their homes when it became dangerous for her to remain with our mother and brother, I brought her to Tremoral.”

  “Might she seek sanctuary?” the knight asked.

  “It is possible, but unlikely since the Church would not accept her without a goodly sum to maintain her.”

  “Then where, Juliana?” Gabriel asked.

  “I can think of nowhere safe.” Her voice broke. “Likely, she wanders…hides…”

  “I shall do my utmost to find her,” Gabriel’s friend said.

  She inclined her head.

  “Sir Erec departs on the morrow,” Gabriel spoke. “Once upon England’s shores, he shall ride to Tremoral.”

  She stiffened. “But surely Alaiz is no longer there.”

  “Perhaps, but it is a good place to begin our search.”

  “But what if Sir Erec is recognized? His fate could be the same as your brother’s. Or worse.”

  Gabriel’s face darkened. “Bernart will not be upon Tremoral. If he has not yet hazarded a passage of the channel, he awaits one—shall cross at winter’s first easing.”

  Meaning Sir Erec might also be delayed in sailing. Might the two cross paths?

  A rap sounded. “My lord,” a voice called from the corridor, “you are needed.”

  Gabriel strode past Juliana and wrenched open the door.

  “In the hall, my lord.” The man-at-arms jerked his head toward the stairs. “A disagreement between knights. They make to shed blood.”

  Gabriel looked over his shoulder. “Our talk is concluded. Sir Erec, would you return the lady to her chamber?”

  “You do not have need of me?”

  “I will bring them to heel.” Leaving the door open, Gabriel departed.

  “Come, my lady.” Sir Erec started across the solar.

  “I would speak with you first.”

  He turned. “Of?”

  “As you know, my sister is near blind, but though many assume her difficulty with negotiating a darkening world means she is also witless, she is as intelligent as ever she was.”

  “This I know. Lest you forget, we danced much that last night at Tremoral.”

  “Never will I forget your kindness, nor how happy she was to partner with you.”

  He inclined his head.

  “Another thing. I cannot know what happened between Sir Randal and her, but she is not mad—would only do him harm to defend herself.”

  “That I do not question.” He frowned. “Do you think she disguised herself to escape? That is how she eludes capture?”

  “Quite possible. The night Gabriel and you arrived at Tremoral, she suggested we don men’s clothing to steal away.” In answer to the hike of his eyebrows, she added, “As told, she is far from witless. Though I tried to hide from her the danger we were in, she knew.”

  “Then it is a woman disguised as a boy I look for, one who may present shorn hair.”

  Juliana would not be surprised. She offered a smile of gratitude. “Though I know you do not gladly undertake this task, that you would rather stand with Gabriel against Bernart, I appreciate your sacrifice.”

  “It is an honor to do the bidding of my friend and lord, but it is true I would prefer to be at Gabriel’s side when Kinthorpe comes. And die in defending Mergot if need be.”

  Such fierce loyalty, of which Gabriel was worthy. “How came you to be his friend, Sir Erec?”

  A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Though we both trained at Wulfen, he and your husband were several years ahead of me. Thus, I did not truly become acquainted with Gabriel until we shared a cell at Acre.”

  Her knees weakened as if someone had taken a stick to the backs of them. “Gabriel was imprisoned at Acre?”

  His eyes widened. “I have spoken what it is not for me to speak. Now come, my lady.”

  She hastened forward and set a hand on his arm. “I must know.”

  “If Gabriel has not revealed it, it is not for me to do.” Gently, he loosened her hold on him.

  “Tell me, Sir Erec!”

  Anger flashed across his face. “Would it make you more kindly toward him had you proof he did all he could for your husband?”

  “More kindly? Much has gone since last you were at Mergot. I love Gabriel and have told him so.”

  His head tilted. “Truly, you love him?”

  “I do. But though he feels the same for me, I fear his guilt over Bernart builds the wall higher between us.”

  His chest puffed, hands closed into fists. “Guilt! It is Kinthorpe who ought to be awash in it for all those who died for his vainglory.”

  “How know you that?”

  His face darkened further. “I am one
of the fools Gabriel could not turn from your husband’s quest.”

  A chill pierced her. “You followed Bernart?”

  “I am ashamed to say I did.” He crossed to the window. Back to her, he said, “We were confident sixty men could take the city, and we had little difficulty in breaching the wall.” Bitter laughter clouded the cool air slipping past the shutters. “Hardly did our feet touch ground than hundreds were upon us. Not long thereafter, nearly all our numbers were slaughtered.”

  “I am sorry.” Juliana waited for the rest to be told, but he gave no more. “Sir Erec, how did Gabriel come to be imprisoned?”

  He turned. “He followed us over the wall—for a friendship of which Kinthorpe was undeserving.”

  She put a hand to the chair to steady herself. “Never did Bernart tell me.”

  “Never did he know.”

  “How could he not?”

  “He fled—left those yet standing to fall beneath the enemy’s swords. When Gabriel appeared, Bernart was gone.”

  Juliana’s stomach turned.

  “Gabriel saved my life, and had the infidels not fallen upon him and beat him bloody, he would have searched out Kinthorpe. For two months we nearly rotted in a cell too small to lie down in. We were taunted, beaten, often thirsty and hungry. And when there was food and drink…” His brow creased. “If not for Gabriel’s tales of courtly love, I fear I would have gone mad.”

  Juliana reeled. Gabriel had repeated tales he so despised?

  “It was in that cell I first heard your name, my lady. And often I heard it, determined as Gabriel was to find Bernart and return him to you.”

  How he had been wronged! Juliana silently bemoaned.

  “When we were released, he searched the other cells. Though it seemed unlikely he would find Bernart, he was in one distant from ours, the door thrown wide, shackles loosed by those of King Richard’s army.” Sir Erec’s gaze drifted to the fire. “Kinthorpe did not move from that corner, simply stared at Gabriel. Dim though it was, his hatred was so thick one could hardly breathe for it.”

  Juliana knew it well, but neither Gabriel nor Sir Erec had known whence it came.

  “No words were spoken between them.” Sir Erec returned to her. “None were needed.”

  “Thus, Bernart never learned Gabriel followed him into the city,” she murmured.

  “Gabriel would not let it be told.”

  “Why?”

  “You would understand had you been there.”

  “But had Bernart known—” She stopped herself. No difference would it have made to learn Gabriel had nearly laid down his life to aid his irresponsible friend. Still Bernart would be incapable of fathering children. Still he would place the blame anywhere but upon himself. Ever his injury and the deaths of those who followed him would be Gabriel’s fault.

  Juliana eased her hold on the chair. “I do understand. What happened afterward?”

  “Gabriel and I joined King Richard’s army and fought alongside our sovereign.” The knight pinned her with his gaze. “Many times I have battled at Gabriel’s side, and there is no coward about him. He fights with courage and honor, does not run from danger, is ever loyal. For this, the king awarded him Mergot.”

  She inclined her head. “I thank you for telling me.” Not that she could do anything with the knowledge. Bernart would lay siege, killing and plundering all for which Gabriel had labored, would not be content with anything less than the drawing of his old friend’s blood and making good his claim on a child not his. None could stop him save the Lord. Or was there another?

  “I require your aid, Sir Erec.”

  Suspicion glimmered in his eyes. “Speak.”

  “I wish you to deliver a message to the king.”

  His mouth tightened.

  “As Richard holds Gabriel in high regard, I would ask him to intervene when Bernart comes against Mergot.”

  “It is not for me to summon the king,” he said gruffly.

  “You know Gabriel will not do it himself. Hence, he and others may die. Pray, Sir Erec, I do not suggest you betray your friend. I ask only that you help me ensure our son knows his father.”

  “I cannot. I am sorry.”

  Moving toward hopelessness, Juliana drew back from that edge and stepped toward the door. “I have something to show you.”

  When he did not follow, she looked around. “Did your lord not task you with escorting me to my chamber?”

  Grudgingly, he followed.

  She led him down the corridor and opened the door. Seeing Lissant on her pallet, candlelight playing across lowered lids, Juliana looked over her shoulder and said low, “Will you not come inside and meet your lord’s son?”

  More grudging, but Sir Erec entered and crossed to the cradle. He stared long at the sleeping infant, finally said, “Gabriel told me you were brought to bed of a fine boy. He is that, my lady.”

  “Does he not deserve a fine father?”

  His jaw shifted. “Certes, he is Gabriel’s?”

  It was her turn to reveal secrets long held. Assuring herself the maid yet slept, she said, “After Acre, no amount of God’s mercy would allow Bernart to father a child. That which has been taken cannot be given back.”

  The knight startled.

  “I speak true, Sir Erec.”

  Though questions surely clambered through him, he held his tongue.

  “King Richard is still on the continent?” she asked.

  He breathed deep. “Where else would he be? Though he is king of England, France is his home. Many say he will never return to his kingdom.”

  As she had also heard. “He is in Normandy?”

  “At Rouen. He intends to build a castle on the Seine.”

  She could not ask for better. “You shall pass by on your way to the coast?”

  “I shall.”

  “Then you will entreat the king to come to Mergot.”

  Displeasure further unsettled his face. “Will I, my lady?”

  “I pray so—for your friend and his son.”

  He glanced at the babe, turned on his heel, and strode opposite.

  Juliana dropped her chin to her chest. Was there any possibility she could reach Rouen? If so, what of their babe?

  “If the king can be persuaded to come,” Sir Erec’s voice cut through her desperation, “what do you think he will do?”

  She hastened to where he stood before the door. “It is an annulment I seek, Sir Erec. King Richard’s presence will not only prevent bloodshed, but assure I am heard.”

  “You will reveal your husband’s…impotence?”

  She darted her gaze to Lissant, further lowered her voice. “Too long I have stayed his side, watched his hatred grow like the deadliest weed, done as he bade. But no more. This child is not his, and I shall not allow him to be taken from Gabriel.”

  “That is what Kinthorpe intends?”

  “As he ever intended.” There, it was said.

  The air thickened with more questions, but he did not speak them.

  “For Gabriel and his son I will do as you bid, my lady. What message would you have me deliver the king?”

  Relief nearly made her reach to him for support. “Tell him Bernart Kinthorpe comes to steal his loyal vassal’s son and the mother of that child—that he is needed at Mergot to end the coming siege.”

  “It will be done.” He stepped into the corridor.

  “Gabriel cannot know, Sir Erec.”

  He hesitated. “I understand.”

  She watched him go from sight, then closed the door and returned to the cradle. Gabriel’s son blinked at her, and when she lifted him, turned his face to her breast.

  “Patience,” she whispered and gently laid him on the bed, loosed her laces, and pulled the bliaut off over her head. Propped against the headboard, the bodice of her chemise parted, she put the babe to her breast.

  Though he quickly satisfied his hunger, she was loath to return him to his cradle. Deciding it would do no harm to hold him awhile l
onger, she turned onto her side with him.

  “King Richard comes,” she softly crooned. “He comes, little one.”

  Gabrien’s half-hooded lids lowered.

  Gabriel stared at mother and child. Though he knew he should return to the solar, he stretched out beside his son and the woman who ought to be his wife and considered Juliana’s shadowed face. In all his life, he had wanted nothing as much as he wanted her and their child—not even the inheritance his father denied him. But could he hold onto Juliana and Gabrien?

  He closed his eyes and ran through the castle’s defenses. Was all provided for—food, water, weaponry? Were Mergot’s people ready?

  “You keep secrets,” Juliana whispered.

  He met her gaze over the top of Gabrien’s head.

  “Why did you not tell that just as you tried to bring Alaiz out of Tremoral, you followed Bernart into Acre? That you were also imprisoned?”

  He growled. He should not have left Erec alone with her. How much had he told? Had he spoken of the tales Gabriel had shared in their cell—those of courtly love learned from Juliana, which kept them half sane with laughter and the foolish hope to live long enough to one day experience long-suffering love?

  So slight a thing such love had seemed compared to what they had endured throughout their captivity, but it was no slight thing. As now proven and Erec had guessed in that dark pit and again at Tremoral, Gabriel felt much for a woman who belonged to another.

  “Why did you not tell me, Gabriel?”

  He pushed up onto an elbow. “What is there to tell other than I failed Bernart as I failed Alaiz? Think you there is redemption in good intentions?”

  “I do. Though you did all you could to stop Bernart, he chose a path that sacrificed scores of men, whereas you chose one that saved scores. Bernart has paid for that choice as he should—and you should not.” She reached over the babe and touched the Wulfrith dagger’s hilt. “You are worthy of this. Bernart is not, and he knows it. Thus, we owe him no son. Believe it, Gabriel, and forget not the ill he has inflicted. Forget not Blase.”

  As if he could. What Bernart had done to his brother demanded retribution, but what had been done to Bernart…

  Gabriel recalled the day he had found his friend in a cell that reeked of death, blood, and excrement. He had but to look upon the man he had grown up alongside to know never again would they share a skin of wine, a laugh, or good conversation.