by Lynn Kurland
Before she could plunge herself into fouler humors thinking on the unpleasant prospects for her poor life, the door burst open and a monk suffering a case of very undignified excitement burst into the hall.
“They’re here!” he shouted.
Colin frowned. “Who?”
“Your sire! His company! They’ve arrived!”
Ali looked quickly at Colin to judge his reaction. His visage had lost all expression.
Indication enough, she supposed, of his distress.
She stood back and watched as Reginald of Berkhamshire swept into the great hall with the haughtiness of a king. He deposited greetings upon Sybil’s parents, then looked the rest of the company over as if they’d been nothing but errant servants loitering about on benches, neglecting their duties to him. He spared only a brief glance for Colin, but ’twas a glance of complete non-interest.
Ali looked again at Colin for his reaction, but saw none. Perhaps he was accustomed to this kind of treatment from his sire.
Pity for him welled up inside her. Had the man never known love from his parents? Even after her father had wed Marie, she’d known that deep inside him, he still harbored fond feelings for her. And her mother? Ali blinked suddenly. Those ten years of great love had given her a lifetime of comfort.
Poor Colin, had he not been blessed with that same comfort?
Perhaps ’twas little wonder he was as harsh as he was.
Soon the only person present with more bluster and arrogance than Reginald himself swept into the chamber. Ali watched in fascination as Ermengarde pecked her father into a semblance of compliance. He was shepherded into a chair, given food and drink, then he submitted with a surprising lack of irritation to being berated for having left her so long with such impossibly unmanageable company to see to. Ali wondered if Ermengarde had taken her mother’s place at such an early age that Reginald had succumbed to her rather forceful ways simply because she’d worn at him so long.
Ermengarde saw the important members of the company, including her father, herself, and Sybil and her parents, seated at the high table. Colin was left standing at the side of the hall, his arms folded over his chest, the very lack of expression on his face warning anyone with any intelligence whatsoever that he was not to be toyed with at present.
For herself, Ali sought cover on the opposite side of the hall, using Jason as a shield. She had no desire to be anywhere near Colin when his father finally forced him to the altar. She had no doubt he would not go quietly. Thinking on the temper his bride would face that night was enough to make her knees unsteady beneath her.
Her pity for him aside, she found herself rather relieved she wasn’t going to be that bride.
Once Reginald had eaten and drunk to his satisfaction, he called the company to order with an imperiousness that any monarch would have been proud to call his own. Peter and Agnes were brought to stand before the table.
“Agnes, my only command for you is to keep your knees together,” he said bluntly.
“Papa!” she gasped.
“You may go,” he said, waving her away.
“But Papa—”
“I’ve found no mate for you yet. Go, and endeavor to keep your virtue intact.”
Agnes went, her face in flames. Ali stared at Colin’s father, appalled yet somehow unsurprised by his lack of compassion. ’Twas no wonder Colin found himself at Blackmour instead of his father’s keep of Berkham. She would have done the same thing, in his place.
Reginald looked at Colin. “Come. Stand here by your brother.”
Colin gave his sire a look that should have made the man rethink his demand. Either Reginald was too old to fear his son, or he had more courage than anyone else in the hall, for he merely snorted with impatience and beckoned again.
“Now. I’ll see the both of you before me.”
Colin pushed off from the wall and sauntered across the hall. He stood next to his brother then folded his arms again over his chest.
“Finish out your drama, Father,” he said coldly. “I’ve business to attend to this day.”
“Indeed you do,” Reginald said, “but likely not the business you think.” He stood, smoothed down his tunic, then took up his cup, as if he prepared to regale them with tales far into the night. “Now, as you all might imagine, I have spent years trying to assure myself that my illustrious line will continue after my death. Unsuccessfully, so far,” he added, with a withering look thrown Colin’s way.
Colin didn’t reply.
“And having despaired of ever finding myself with a properly wedded heir who would provide himself with an heir, I took it upon myself to assure myself of the same.”
Ali wondered how it was that Colin could content himself with a mere sigh. His sire was insulting in the extreme.
“And so,” Reginald continued, waving his cup benevolently toward the assembled company, “we find ourselves here, enjoying Harrowden’s hospitality, conveniently near the appropriate marrying authorities.”
Colin’s sigh was rather gustier that time.
“The marriage contract did specify that the lady Sybil of Maignelay-sur-mer was to be wed with Berkham’s heir,” Reginald said, “and so she shall.” He paused, apparently for the drama of it, though all eyes were upon him just the same. Then he set his cup down. “Peter, step forward.”
Peter blinked. “Father?”
“Come forward, you witless pup,” Reginald barked. “Come forward and claim your inheritance.”
“But—”
“All I own!” Reginald said triumphantly. “The lady Sybil. The keep. All my gold, all my silver, all my baubles. Yours, the whole.”
“What?” Colin thundered.
Ali looked at Peter to find that he was teetering rather substantially. He continued to sway until he’d swayed right into his brother. Colin held him away with a very stiff arm.
“You’ve lost your wits,” Colin growled. “You cannot disinherit me.”
“Peter will wed with Sybil,” Reginald insisted. “And he will inherit my lands and gold.”
“I’m a priest,” Peter said weakly.
“Not yet, and not anymore,” Reginald said briskly.
That, oddly enough, seemed to bring Peter out of his swoon. He stood up on his feet, slapped his hands on the table before him and put his nose near his sire’s. Not too near, but near enough.
“I’m going to be a priest!” he shouted.
“They don’t want you here.”
“They do too!”
“I’ve ceased all monetary gifts to the abbey. Unless you’ve coin hidden in your robe, you’re no longer of any interest to these mercenary brothers here.”
Peter began to sway again. Ali didn’t have long to wonder if Colin would help him. Colin did, by pushing him out of the way with such force that he sent him sprawling onto the floor.
“I will not accept this!” Colin bellowed, leaning over the table with his nose much closer to his sire’s than his brother’s had been.
“It isn’t yours to accept,” Reginald bellowed back. “I’ve waited until I’m fair in my grave for you to manage to keep a bride I procured for you and I’ll wait no longer!”
“You won’t have to wait any longer,” Colin said, stepping back and drawing his sword. “I’ll send you to your grave now!”
Reginald wisely took a pace or two backward. He glared at his son. “Slay me and you’ll be hanged.”
“If it means you’re dead, I’ll go to the noose happily!”
“The gel is for Peter, not you,” Reginald said, looking about him—likely for possible exits from the hall.
“I’ll have her myself, or die in the attempt!” Colin shouted.
And Sybil, predictably, pitched forward into the little mound of food she’d managed to place before herself on the table, in a dead faint.
“You have a betrothed,” Reginald said, backing up and finding himself with no choice but to sit down in his chair. “Aliénore of Solonge.”
; Ali felt herself begin to sway. She understood completely Sybil’s fondness for the practice. Fortunately, she had Jason’s arm to keep her on her feet. She leaned against him, gasping for breath.
Her betrothal to Colin still stood?
What, by the saints, was she supposed to do now?
“I don’t want her,” Colin snarled. “Too great a coward to face her fate.”
Ali swallowed with difficulty. Well, he certainly had her there. Perhaps he would solve her problem for her all on his own.
“I’ll have that one there,” Colin continued, gesturing down the table with his sword and causing everyone sitting on the other side to fall back with a gasp.
“You can’t. She’s sworn to Peter,” Reginald insisted. “ ’Tis in the agreement both I and her parents signed. If you want a bride, go find yours.”
Colin put up his sword with such a great thrust, it came close to severing its sheath. “And then?” he demanded.
“Find the lady Aliénore,” Reginald said, “and then we’ll discuss the other.”
Colin looked ready to tear out his hair with fury. He slapped both his hands on the table before him. “Does she,” he said through gritted teeth, “have to be alive?”
Ali’s knees buckled. Jason hauled her up with his hands under her arms.
“Steady,” he whispered quickly into her ear. “Call attention to yourself now and the tale is finished.”
Ali drove herself back against the wall with her knees straight and stiff, praying she could keep herself from pitching forward into senselessness in Sybil’s accustomed fashion.
Had she ever considered taking others’ advice to reveal herself to Colin, then bravely face the consequences? She’d been daft to listen to them! Telling him who she was was the very last thing she could ever do! He’d vowed to slay her two years earlier, and apparently, given what she’d just heard, he hadn’t changed his mind about it.
Reginald cleared his throat and tugged on the neck of his tunic. “I would prefer you bring her back alive, of course—”
“But?” Colin asked.
Only a fool would have dared push him, Ali decided.
Only a fool would have dared deceive him.
And, lastly, only a fool would have wed with him.
His sire gulped. “Bring her as you find her. If you can find her.”
“I intend to,” Colin said curtly. “And when I bring her back, this foolishness will be over. Wed the lady Sybil to Peter and ruin both their lives. But you’ll not take my birthright from me.”
“Bring Aliénore back and we’ll see,” Reginald said.
Colin leaned over the table. “You’ll not take my birthright from me,” he repeated coldly. “You’ll regret it if you do.”
Reginald made blustering noises, but Ali didn’t have the luxury of staying to hear them. Colin whirled around and looked about him. Ali wanted nothing more than to disappear behind Jason. Unfortunately, Colin’s gaze fell upon her first.
“Henri,” he barked, “you’ll come with me. I’ll need the diversion of training. And I daren’t leave you in this nest of asps here.”
Ali couldn’t even manage a weak nod. Come with him? To look for herself?
Could things worsen for her?
“Jason, you’ll come to guard my back.”
Jason nodded, no trace of a smile on his face.
“Lest my sire think to send someone to slay me,” Colin added. “That would be foolishly done.”
Reginald huffed even more loudly at that, but Colin had seemingly finished speaking to his sire. Ali was ready to march out the door with him—if nothing more than to be more at liberty to flee—when she realized he wasn’t finished choosing his companions.
“I’ll need a guide,” he said, looking about the hall. “That I might concentrate on other things—”
Sir Etienne threw himself forward. “My lord, I offer my aid.”
Ali gasped. Nay, not him. He was the very last person she wanted to see any more of.
“You?” Colin asked doubtfully. “What know you of anything useful?”
“I know much of many things,” Sir Etienne responded without hesitation. “And I can lead you quickly and safely to wherever you want to go in France.”
Colin muttered something under his breath, then sighed heavily.
“Very well,” he said. “You’ll come along too.” He swept his new company with a look. “To France, then.”
“France?” Ali squeaked. “In truth?”
“We’ll begin at the beginning,” Colin said heavily.
“The beginning?” she wheezed.
“Solonge,” he replied.
The saints preserve her, he was going to take her home.
“Aye,” Sir Etienne boasted, “I can definitely lead you there. I’ve been there several times myself.”
Ali stared at him in surprise. Had he ever been at her home? She searched frantically back through her memories, but emerged with nothing for her trouble. If she’d seen him before arriving at Maignelay-sur-mer, she didn’t remember it.
But did that matter? Colin was going to her home and dragging her along with him.
And bringing Sir Etienne to be their guide.
It was a disaster.
“But, Sir Etienne,” she began.
“Knows much of France, no doubt,” Colin said briskly, “and often manages to hoist his blade in an almost intimidating fashion. Surely my lord of Maignelay-sur-mer won’t mind loaning him to me for a pair of fortnights.”
His lord of Maignelay-sur-mer was hiding behind his cup and didn’t offer an opinion on it.
Ali didn’t dare look at anyone who knew her secret to judge their reactions. She found herself with no choice but to pack her gear and follow Colin from the hall.
They were mounted and on their way sooner than she would have supposed possible. Either Colin was anxious to find her—which she doubted was the case—or he was in a fiery temper—which she decided was more likely—and had to do something to give vent to it. And flinging them forward on an adventure certainly seemed reasonable enough.
She looked back at the hall just before they turned for the gates. The witches were there, and Berengaria was smiling encouragingly at her. Sybil was there, clinging to Peter, damn her anyway. The lady Isabeau was there as well. She looked at Ali with tears in her eyes.
I’ll pray for you, she mouthed.
Ali suspected it would take more than a single woman’s prayers to aid her in this.
Then they were out the gates and on their way before she could count up in her head just how many prayers it might take for her to survive the journey without Colin killing her, Sir Etienne killing Colin, or her killing herself to avoid having to watch either of the other murders.
“Do you think,” Sir Etienne asked suddenly, as if he truly were concerned, “that the lady Aliénore might still be alive?”
Colin only shrugged.
“And if you find her,” Sir Etienne pressed on doggedly, “will you kill her in truth?”
Colin paused and looked at him. “Absolutely.”
“I’m not opposed to bringing back a corpse,” Sir Etienne offered cheerfully.
“Good, for you likely will be,” Colin said shortly.
Ali closed her eyes and wished there were some clear path across the country, for she would have taken it and thrown herself on the mercy of the first band of ruffians she’d come across. The possibilities for her future were limited to just one.
Flight.
But how? When? With Colin watching her every move, with Sir Etienne dogging her steps, with Jason motherhenning her until she couldn’t move that he didn’t know it?
Her chance of finding a convent was gone. Her chance of being free of Sir Etienne was gone. Her chance of seeing Colin safely wed to someone else and thereby fully and finally releasing her from her contract was gone as well.
And if those weren’t foul enough tidings for the day, she had another sea voyage to look forward to!
“Henri? Are you unwell?”
Ali looked at Colin and wasn’t sure even how to form words that wouldn’t immediately and fully alert him to her distress. Fortunately for her, there were souls about her who knew her secret and didn’t mind offering her aid.
“Mayhap the lad has been to Solonge and offended the lord there,” Sir Etienne offered. “He doesn’t seem overanxious to return, does he?”
Ali swallowed with difficulty and looked at Colin. “The boat, my lord. I fear the boat.”
“Don’t think on it, lad,” Colin said with a grimace. “I know I won’t until I have to. It won’t last long, then we’ll be about our business and back home before we have time to truly wallow in our misery. Of course, my misery will be a far sight less than yours, given my manly constitution, but there’s nothing to be done about that.” He reached over and patted her companionably on the back. “You’ll survive the journey, Henri. I’ll see to it myself.”
Sir Etienne coughed quite suddenly and with sounds that greatly resembled chuckles.
Ali didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t dare look at Jason to see his reaction.
And she didn’t dare look at Colin.
Or her betrothed, as he might be more commonly known.
The saints pity her, she was in just as dire straits as she had been before!
Perhaps if she returned to Solonge and threw herself at her father’s feet, he might be so relieved he would rescue her.
“Stay by me, Henri,” Colin said quietly. “Always in my sight. I will keep you safe.”
Ah, but who would keep her safe from him?
Chapter 20
Colin stood with his backside against the ship’s railing and wondered how it was that a piece of wood so thick and well-constructed could feel as if it had all the firmness of silk. It seemed to buck and sway with every gust of breeze, with every swell and dip of the sea. Indeed, the whole of the ocean about him seemed to be nothing but a billowing surge.
Yet the captain seemed to be highly pleased with such a pleasant and uneventful crossing.
Colin turned and quite casually heaved up his guts over the railing. Then he resumed his nonchalant pose against the side of the deck, dragged his sleeve surreptitiously across his mouth, and looked about him to see if anyone had noticed his moment of weakness.
