Captive Rose

by Miriam Minger

  “Nonsense, my lord. If so, you wouldn’t have met the beauteous Lady Leila. So a toast! To the women who will not be swayed … and to the swaying of them!”

  Guy drained his tankard, his foul mood a shade lighter as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Henry’s jests were ably serving their purpose, something his eloquent knight had been wont to do since he had pledged himself to Guy many years ago. But all levity aside, he was now faced with a most serious problem.

  Leila would soon be in a buzzing hornet’s nest, and he would likely have to go to battle to get her safely out of it.

  Roger was a foe he knew well. The bastard would lock her in a nunnery before he would allow her to return to Damascus. But a nun’s drab habit would certainly not be the garb Roger envisioned for his sister. More likely her glorious hair would be her only gown as Roger forced her into some rich man’s conjugal bed.

  Guy clenched his teeth at the unsettling thought.

  Roger would never get that far, he hoped. As soon as Leila realized that everything he had said about her brother was true, she would call for him. She would have nowhere else to turn. And when she did, he would be ready.

  Chapter 17

  “God’s bones, de Warenne! I’m glad you’re alive and back in England.”

  “As am I, my lord,” Guy said, sitting off to one side while a quartet of tailors hovered around the tall, athletic prince.

  Edward was standing very straight in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched, looking extremely uncomfortable as the four craftsmen tucked and hemmed the red silk damask tunic and crimson mantle he would wear in tomorrow morning’s coronation ceremony. Guy knew Edward enjoyed the pageantry and color of royalty, but the tailors had been busily at work for the whole hour they had been talking. It was enough for any man to bear, let alone a monarch.

  “And such an incredible tale,” Edward continued, doing his best to ignore the low whisperings and mutterings near to the floor. “It grieves me deeply about Reginald and the others. Good men, all of them. I’m grateful for your part in the embassy, Guy, though I wish it had proved more worthwhile, especially considering that men died in its cause. Who could have known when I sent you to Anatolia that I would not be in Acre to greet you upon your return?”

  “It was not a waste, my lord, despite the unfortunate loss of life. Our close relationship with the Mongol Ilkhan will hold us in good stead should we return to the Holy Land for another crusade.”

  “True, though God can only know when that might be. I have much to concern me now in Britain.” As the tailors seemed to pause in their work, Edward dropped his arms with a sigh of impatience. “Are you finished, gentlemen?”

  “Not quite, my lord,” one of the tailors spoke up, a balding man who looked extremely harried. He bowed apologetically. “Another few moments.”

  “That is all I shall grant you, so make haste.” Edward glanced over at Guy with a wry smile. “Hand me my wine, good knight. My throat grows parched from this tedious ordeal.”

  Guy laughed as he rose from the chair and brought Edward a goblet from a nearby table, but he grew serious when the prince lowered the vessel after drinking deeply. “I am honored to be a knight in your service, Edward,” he said, clasping his longtime friend’s arm. “Tomorrow will be a glorious day for England. A new reign. A new era.”

  “Yes, and I equally need men like you, Guy. Men I can trust. I’m glad the governor of Damascus, his Mameluke soldiers, and his wretched prison combined proved no match for you. What a day that must have been when you escaped!”

  Guy leaned against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t soon forget it. When I heard that the governor’s messenger had been killed—”

  “Now that puzzles me,” Edward interrupted, frowning. “Do you really think thieves could have set upon the man? I doubt it. I don’t believe any Arabs would have touched him, knowing he was a royal messenger. Native Christians, maybe. But I think it more likely that there was treachery involved. Perhaps someone didn’t want me to receive your letter of ransom. Every man has enemies, Guy, known or unknown. And there were always crusaders patrolling the hills around Acre, both singly and in groups. It’s a possibility …”

  “Yes,” Guy agreed, “but one that can never be proven.”

  “Perhaps. I suggest you watch your enemies well these next few days. Much can be betrayed by a simple glance, a misspoken word, a whisper.”

  “There! We have finished, my lord,” the chief tailor exclaimed proudly, hauling himself to his feet. The other three craftsmen were beaming, all of them clearly pleased with their meticulous handiwork.

  “It’s about time,” Edward declared, then softened his tone as he perused his appearance. “My thanks, gentlemen. The garments are truly splendid … fit for a king. But now help me out of this finery and fetch me something more comfortable to wear.”

  As the tailors rushed about and Edward changed, Guy moodily drank his wine.

  He, too, had considered the possibility of treachery, but it seemed remote. The odds of that messenger running into men who would have wished, for whatever reason, to thwart his ransom were so slim …

  Guy inclined his head at the light burst of feminine laughter drifting to them from a distant room, and his hand tightened around the goblet.

  God, he missed Leila!

  He was amazed at how easily his mind could skip to thoughts of her, despite the fact that he was surrounded by bustling activity and in the presence of the crown prince, who had granted him an audience as soon as he heard Guy was at Westminster. It felt as if it had been weeks since he had last seen her, rather than a few hours. He never would have dreamed that being in love could be such torture. Yet he would not trade it. Not for a sultan’s riches.

  What was she doing right now? he wondered. Where might she be … strolling somewhere in the palace or perhaps resting in the Gervais tent, one of many such temporary lodgings which had been set up on the palace grounds? Was she thinking of him? How was she faring now that she was under Roger’s guardianship?

  “Come and sit with me, Guy,” Edward said, shrugging into a white surcoat embroidered with gold trefoils and taking one of the four carved chairs in front of the huge fireplace. “I want to hear more about this intriguing Lady Leila Gervais.”

  Guy grinned wryly as he walked over and sat down next to Edward. “You read my mind exactly, my lord,” he admitted, stretching out his long legs to the low burning fire. “I was just thinking about her.”

  “Now that’s a most serious sign.” Edward raised a dark eyebrow as he regarded Guy with a curious smile. “I don’t recall you dwelling overmuch on any one woman before, my lord de Warenne. Since you lost your first wife, you’ve broken many a fair maiden’s heart here at court, and God knows how many peasant wenches have lost their maidenheads back in Wales.”

  “You paint me as quite the rogue, my lord.”

  “From the sound of it, a reformed rogue. Your half brother Philip will be in his priestly glory to know you’ve a mind to settle down.”

  Guy swirled what little wine remained in his goblet as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire. “That is my hope, though how long it will take me is entirely another matter.

  “Ah, yes. You would have chosen Gervais’s sister. Now there’s a fine trick of fate.” Edward was silent for a moment, shaking his head, then he asked quietly, “How did it go when you handed her over to Roger?”

  “As I expected. It wasn’t hard to find him. He and his men were practicing with the lance and shield in Tothill Fields when we rode up.”

  “Getting ready for the jousting, I imagine. Roger’s prowess with the lance grows stronger with each passing year. No doubt he’s already counting the horses and armor he will win when he unseats a record number of knights at my tournament.”

  Guy grunted. “He’s never beaten me.

  “Nor have you beaten him. It’s always come to a draw. Ranulf trained you both well. I’ve never seen two opponents mor
e equally matched.” Edward shifted in his chair, waving for a servant to bring more wine. “Another subject altogether. Forgive me, Guy. Go on with your story.”

  Guy waited until their goblets were refilled, then he continued. “Roger looked as if he were seeing a ghost when he spied me, but he quickly recovered, masking his emotions as ably as he always has. He scarcely blinked when I introduced Leila to him as his sister, though he did thank me when all was said and done, which surprised me. I think the blackguard did it for Leila’s benefit. He became quite charming and most solicitous, suggesting he escort her at once to his wife Maude so she might refresh herself from the journey.” Guy shrugged. “That was all. He had a palfrey brought for her, and she rode with him from the field.”

  Without even a backward glance, he thought to himself. That last slight had cut him deeply. She must have truly believed she was finally rid of him. Ah, Leila …

  “Hmmm. If you would like, Guy, we could arrange to have her stay here at court as one of Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting,” Edward suggested. “At least then you would see her and know that she is safe. I doubt you will be allowed near enough to Gervais’s castle to catch even a glimpse of her.”

  “Thank you for your kind offer, my lord, but no. That would only prolong the situation. She must go with Roger to Wales. From what I saw this afternoon, I’ll wager he’ll be on his best behavior while at court, and if so, Leila will draw no closer to seeing him for what he really is—a coldhearted opportunist who has no thought for her welfare, only for lining his own pockets.”

  “Well, if there’s any way I can assist you, let me know. I must honor my late father’s peace, but that does not mean I suffer traitors lightly. I still remember well my days of imprisonment in Kenilworth Castle.”

  Both men grew silent, lost to dark memories until a commotion came at the door. They rose together as a beautiful woman was ushered into the room, her patrician features lighting with a radiant smile when she saw Guy.

  “Lord de Warenne! What a wonderful surprise! I just now learned you were here at Westminster, though I’m amazed it took so long for the rumor to reach me. My ladies-in-waiting are all a-twitter that the most handsome and eligible knight in England has returned from the Holy Land.”

  “Hold on to your pretty plans, my dearest wife,” Edward said, planting a resounding kiss on her smiling lips. “I fear your ladies will be sobbing in their pillows this night. It seems our valiant knight de Warenne is in love.”

  “Lady Eleanor,” Guy said, bowing deeply. He was not in the least embarrassed by his sovereigns’ open affection for each other. It was well known throughout the realm that Edward was devoted to his wife, their marriage an exceedingly happy one.

  “What’s this? In love? Oh dear, and I thought I’d have a chance to play the matchmaker now that you are back. Who is the lucky girl?”

  “Lady Leila Gervais,” Guy answered with a thin smile.

  “Gervais? Surely not any relation to …” Eleanor’s voice died away as she looked from her nodding husband to Guy. Her lively green eyes widened considerably. “Oh my,” she breathed, clearly nonplussed.

  “Oh my, indeed,” Edward said with a short laugh.

  “Wait until you hear where he met this mysterious lady.”

  “Damascus, Syria,” Guy said, playing along. “Damascus! But how—”

  “Ah, did you hear that? The trumpets are sounding for the feast,” Edward cut in, looping his arm through Eleanor’s. “It’s about time, too. I’m ravenous. Come, my beloved wife. Our guests will be gathering, and we should be there to greet them.”

  As he began to sweep her along with him to the door, Eleanor laughingly protested, “But, my lord, I must hear—”

  “And so you shall, my love, so you shall. Guy can regale you with his romantic tale over supper.” Edward called to him over his shoulder. “You will sit at our table, de Warenne, on my lady’s right hand. And if you spy your Lady Leila, you must point her out to us.”

  “I am honored, my lord. Indeed I will,” Guy said, an eagerness to his stride as he followed them. He felt like a raw youth, such was his excitement at the prospect of seeing Leila again. She was bound to be at tonight’s feast in Westminster Hall, for it marked the official beginning of the coronation festivities.

  And if there was one thing he was certain about her, it was that she was easy to read. He would be able to tell with one look at her lovely eyes exactly how she was faring.

  He didn’t relish the thought of Roger mistreating her, but he secretly hoped the bastard had already forgone his mock gallant behavior. The sooner Leila discerned her brother’s true colors, the better.

  ***

  “My only wish is for you to enjoy yourself, dear sister. A king’s coronation is a rare event. We will talk of your concerns further when we return to Wales, I promise you. Come. We will be late for the feast.”

  Leila lifted her eyes to Roger’s and was still astonished hours after their initial meeting that there was so little physical resemblance between them.

  He was a handsome man, no doubt of that, tall and robust, with dark, closely cropped hair which was more brown than black, piercing steel-blue eyes, and ruggedly cut features. She could only reason that he took after the father she had never known and whom her mother had never described to her. Yet in his smile, which seemed warm enough, she could see a glimpse of Eve. It made her dreadfully homesick, and she shook her head, unconvinced by his placating words.

  “I don’t understand why I must journey all the way to Wales. It will only waste precious time. The matter is quite plain, my lord. I wish to return to Damascus before the change of seasons makes traveling too difficult. Surely you understand by now that my presence here in England is all a dreadful mistake.”

  “Oh, come now, Leila,” Maude interjected, taking her arm. “You must at least visit your ancestral home before entertaining any idea of leaving us. Winter is still many weeks away. There is plenty of time to enjoy the coronation and a short side trip to Wales, surely. You have come too far to leave us so soon.”

  Leila glanced at the striking blond woman holding her arm, not sure if she liked her sister-in-law or not.

  Maude had seemed friendly enough since she had been brought to this tent. Maude had set her servants at once to cutting down one of her own gowns to fit Leila’s smaller figure, and then she had personally served her cool wine and a light repast. The source of Leila’s unease wasn’t something she could easily put her finger on. The older woman was doing her utmost to appear cordial. Perhaps it was as simple as that … ah, then again, maybe it was nothing.

  “Maude is right,” Roger said, the same warm smile still on his face. “It’s not every day one is reunited with a long-lost sister. You’re the exact image of Mother, you know. I was nine when she left with Father for the Holy Land, so I remember her well. How I’ve missed them, and now to discover after these many years that she is still alive and well, and that I have a beautiful sister …” He cleared his throat meaningfully. “Please, Leila. Let us enjoy each other’s company, at least for a few short weeks.”

  Leila sighed, looking from Maude to Roger. She was beginning to feel she had been purposely deceived by Lord de Warenne. Her brother didn’t appear the evil ogre Guy had made him out to be.

  Roger’s demeanor had been affable since the moment they met. Most importantly, he hadn’t denied outright her request to return to Damascus, as Guy had predicted he would. He had listened patiently to everything she had to say. Guy had been dead wrong, and she felt a sudden rush of resentment that he had tried to mislead her for his own selfish purposes. Her sense of pique at that moment swayed her more to her brother’s favor than anything else.

  She supposed she could humor Roger, and Maude as well, since he had just virtually assured her that she could leave England in a few weeks. And she was curious to see the Gervais family’s ancestral home. It would be interesting to tell Eve about it once she was back in Syria.

  “Very well,” sh
e murmured, smiling faintly. “I don’t see that a couple of weeks’ delay will hurt.”

  “Excellent!” came Roger’s quick reply.

  “Oh, Leila, I’m so pleased,” echoed Maude.

  Leila missed the furtive look between them as she glanced uncertainly at her rose-colored kirtle. It was indecent how the silken fabric was molded to her slim figure, giving her the sensation that she was wearing little more than a second skin. Maude’s servants had clearly misjudged her proportions. This gown was much too small for her.

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t wear a surcoat?” she asked, raising her head.

  “Heavens, no,” Maude exclaimed, “and spoil the line of the gown? You look absolutely ravishing, Leila. Especially with your hair hanging free like that with only the silver circlet as a headdress. We’re so proud of your beauty, we want to show you off to everyone!”

  Leila felt a niggling unease at such a gushing declaration, but she gave it no more thought as Maude whisked her from the tent. Roger followed close behind with a large retinue of knights who had been waiting outside.

  The air was charged with excitement as throngs of people made their way in the gathering dusk toward Westminster Hall, the chaotic procession accompanied by much laughing and good-natured jostling. Everyone seemed to be having such a wonderful time that Leila found it difficult not to become caught up in the high-spirited tumult.

  She actually felt a bit adventuresome as their party entered the Nightly lit building, the men forging a path for her and Maude to the middle of the hall where they all sat down, Roger on her right and one of his knights on her left.

  And why shouldn’t she feel lighter of heart when it was only a matter of weeks before she would be on her way home?

  Leila was amazed at how quickly the hundreds of richly dressed lords and ladies, court officials, clergy, and what looked to be wealthy merchants and their wives took their places on crude benches among the rows upon rows of white-clothed tables. Everyone was clearly eager for the feast to begin; the din of animated voices and laughter was deafening. And now that people were seated, except for a few stragglers and the scores of scrub-faced servants lining the walls, she had a good view of the raised dais at one end of the cavernous hall