Downstairs, someone stirred in the kitchens. Mary or Hugh would be stoking the fire and heating water. Stephan ignored the noise and sat back down to pull on his boots. Henry rubbed his back. “Was that you in the wood yesterday?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Stephan just smiled.
Henry cuffed his arm. “Why didn’t you call out to me?”
Stephan sighed. “There were seven of us.” Turning, he brought his lips to Henry’s. He moaned softly and then pulled away. “I do not think the others would have been eager to see our reunion. It would have been torture if I could do no more than clasp your arm.” He grabbed his swordbelt from beneath the bed and stood.
“Seven?” Henry drew up on his elbow. King’s men watching Greyton. “Why were you there?”
Touching Henry’s cheek he said, “I cannot tell you that.” He buckled his swordbelt and stared into the darkened wood looming just beyond the window. “They’ll be waiting for me.”
Henry nodded. If he stood, his legs might give out. Stephan bent low to kiss him again, a long passionate kiss. Hands fisted in Stephan’s tunic, Henry held on for as long as he could. It would never be long enough.
A few moments later, Stephan slipped outside.
Henry’s spirits lifted at the sight of the new stables at Cartholme. A visitor calling on the lady of the manor would never know of the devastating blaze. Rubble had been cleared and workshops rebuilt. Bea would be pleased when she arrived. A clang rang out from the smith’s shop. Henry jumped at the sound, caught the stench of hot metal. The day was cool, but sweat broke out on his forehead. He palmed his crucifix and whispered thanks to God. Memories of that awful day—Bea, Elle, and Stephan so close to perishing.
Elle. He sighed. The wedding plans. Edric’s threat made his head spin. Weekly visits to Westorby to deliver letters from Elle during the summer had been a chore, but her words to Edric assured the illusion of happy domesticity. Mayhap she’d been too convincing given Edward’s announcement at the harvest celebration.
There was no turning back. Henry had to tell his father the truth, even if it meant losing him and leaving Greyton.
Henry busied himself the next few hours hearing villeins complaints, reviewing the accounts, meeting with the steward—anything to keep his mind from the coming confrontation with his father.
Daniel, one of the house staff, hurried into the solar. “Two dozen riders approaching, Sir Henry,” he announced, a quiver in his voice.
Henry rushed outside, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his sword. At the gates, the l’Aigle red eagle standard rippled in the wind. Bea was at the head of the mesnie, Gilbert l’Aigle at her side. Gil’s knights wore blue surcoats emblazoned with the bird of prey, and their mail gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.
Bea’s woolen cloak fanned out behind her. Its sky blue color complemented the deeper blues of the l’Aigle shield. She trotted up to Henry and reined in. One of the knights hurried to help her down. She waited until Gil dismounted and laid her hand on his arm. Elle drew up behind them looking smart in a forest green gown trimmed in deep browns.
“Welcome home,” Henry said.
Bea embraced Henry, but pulled back. “What’s amiss?”
“I must speak with you and Elle before Father arrives.” He remembered Stephan’s words, but could he truly count on his sister for support?
Bea introduced Gil, making it clear he would be included on any family business. Henry’s mind swirled with Stephan’s stories of the brother who’d thrown him out of l’Aigle and the very different picture Bea had captured in her letters. The very different picture he saw in Gil’s manner. The hostility, loathing, and ego Stephan once described did not exist in the man before him.
Bea pointed out the new stables and shops to Gil. Her gaze touched the horses in the pasture, eyes welling with moisture. She spoke of ones lost in the fire by name. Gil heard the anguish in her voice and responded with a gentle touch.
David shrieked in the wet nurse’s arms. Gil turned round with a smile as Cecili set him down. The toddler ran straight into Gil’s outstretched arms.
“He likes you,” Henry said, ruffling David’s dark brown curls.
Gil nodded, his eyes on Bea. “I hope so,” he said as a radiant Bea led him into the great hall.
Henry bowed to Elle. “Are you well, my lady?”
“That is my question to you.” She rested her hand on his arm as they followed the others inside. “You have had to deal with my brother. He’d not responded to my last letters. If I suspected he had taken Amicia’s death hard and needed consoling, I would have reached out again.”
Henry squeezed Elle’s hand. His patience with Edric Weston had been tried for months now. The man’s indifference to his wife’s passing and stillborn son, his self-importance, his desire for Bea… Curse the bastard! He’d get his due. But first, news of the wedding plans needed to be shared with everyone.
In the hall, the steward directed the distribution of bags to the proper rooms. The trestle had been prepared and house servants set out a sumptuous meal. Bea must have sensed Henry was in no mood for small talk. She suggested the servants and Gil’s men be dismissed so the family could speak privately.
Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “Father and Edric have agreed that Elle and I will be married in November.” Elle stared at Henry, and he quickly added, “We will not, of course, but I will need your help.”
The hall was deadly quiet except for the fire crackling in the hearth.
Bea sipped her wine, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Mayhap you should marry—in name only, of course.”
“What!” Elle cried.
Henry gaped at Bea. “Do you hear what you’re saying? No, I will not. Other marriages might work that way, and I might never live outright with the man I love, but I will never deny Elle a chance for a life, love, and family. I won’t put on a show. Not for Father, and not to keep Edric quiet.”
Bea looked hard at Henry. “How do you intend to deal with Edric’s threats?”
“I will tell Father. Tonight.”
“Tell me what?” came a brusque call from the door.
Henry jumped at the sound of the familiar voice. Edward had arrived.
Hurrying into Edward’s arms, Bea diverted the subject. “Father, you look well. Come.” She grasped his hand and tugged him across the hall. “You must meet Gil, Lord Gilbert l’Aigle.”
Gil was at his most charming. For a few minutes they exchanged pleasantries and talked of business until Cecili brought David to say goodnight.
Afterwards, Edward turned the discussion to the wedding. “Do not give me that look,” he said before Henry could speak. “I know you care for each other.” Edward’s gaze lighted on Elle. “You enjoy your time together. Laugh at the other’s stories. What more do you need?”
Elle looked as composed as the Queen of England appearing before her council. Tough, stubborn, but compassionate. Bea looked from their father to Henry, unmoving.
Heart thundering, Henry knew this would not go well. He found his voice. “I must speak with Father alone.”
“Are you certain?” Bea asked.
Henry nodded and paced to the fireside as they left. The crackling fire soothed him. “I cannot marry Elle,” he said, turning to face his father. “She can be no more than a friend to me.”
Edward waved his hands and scoffed. “You are being immature and childish. You know your stations. The choices have been made for you.”
“My choice is not Elle. I will not marry her, will never lay with her just to beget an heir.” Henry had to will himself to breathe, but his voice was steady. “I love Stephan.”
Edward blinked. He drew a short rasping breath, and then glared.
“I fell in love with Stephan,” Henry repeated. The burden of keeping his secret vanished, snuffed out like a candle flame. But there was no darkness because his heart and soul spilled over with light.
Edward’s face turned a deep crimson. Fuming, he s
houted, “You cannot! Your soul will burn in Hell.” He snarled and poured himself a goblet of wine. “You might have any of a thousand maidens from one end of England to the farthest corners of Scotland. How could you fall into a liaison with a man?”
“A true, good man, with a heart—”
Edward stood abruptly. He backhanded Henry. Hard. Stunned, Henry’s hand flew to his face to curb the sting. He swiped at blood in the corner of his mouth. His father had never struck him before.
“Thank God your mother is not alive to hear this.” Edward rubbed his sore knuckles. “What are you thinking? Sodomy… Vile, despicable, condemned by the Church. You’ll not be allowed to receive the sacraments.” Edward started to pace, stopped. “God’s blood! Edric Weston will tell everyone.” He whirled around. “You could be banned from the courts, from polite society. Respect? You’ll have none. Think of the scandal! We won’t be able to sell our goods—”
“Is that all you worry for? How you will look in others’ eyes?” Henry regretted the words. He’d wanted to speak of love, not argue about the Church or business. He reached for his father, but Edward jerked back. “Please understand how I feel. Without Stephan, there is nothing. My heart is empty.”
Edward swallowed down his drink. “You have betrayed our family. Betrayed me. How could you… Forgetting your duty to me, to the de Grey’s.” His eyes focused on some distant point. “I never should have let you leave on pilgrimage. You’d never have met this…this…sodomite.”
“I took the Cross because God called me to it. And God brought Stephan into my life. Call him sodomite and you must call me the same.”
Edward’s face blazed with anger, his eyes dark. “This is the devil’s work. He sent this…this…man to tempt you. Do not give into it. Confess. Drive this lust from your soul.”
Henry knew arguments would be futile, but he had to get the words out and hope his father might remember them, if not today, then mayhap one day soon. “It is not lust. I love Stephan. If you cannot accept that, then take Greyton. Give it to the wolves for all I care. Titles and wealth or power mean nothing to me without Stephan.”
Henry stalked from the room, the door slamming behind him.
“Henry,” Bea called.
Pushing past her without a nod, he didn’t turn when she called his name a second time, just walked out into the night.
*
Bea wanted to console Henry but knew it was her father who needed soothing.
Edward sat, head clasped in his hands. He looked up when the rushes stirred beneath her feet. Old, tired eyes met hers. Deep lines creased his face.
Bea sat beside him and pulled his hands into hers. “Maman has been gone but three years, yet you have forgotten what it is to love someone.”
“Love? Your brother is not in love. It is depraved lust, nothing more. It will fade the longer he is away from that man.”
Bea had thought long and hard on Henry. Before he’d left for Outremer, she’d seen him with Alys. Always a sadness in his eyes. So unlike their parents who truly loved each other. Could anyone expect Henry or Bea wouldn’t look for that in the person they’d marry? They had found love. In Stephan. And Gil.
“Do you recall when Henry first returned to Greyton? If we had watched more closely… We failed to look beyond the soldiers’ camaraderie to see what Henry has with Stephan is so much more than friendship. They love each other, Father.”
“It makes me ill to even think—” He jerked his hands away from her and poured another drink. “Leave me alone.”
“You should go after him,” Bea said.
“Why? To tell him to put aside this foolishness, get himself a wife to bed, and do what marriage intends.”
Bea sighed heavily. “It won’t do to push him away. Is that what you want? He will leave. We might never see him again.”
“Mayhap I will have another son. I will remarry.” Bea’s shocked expression did not deter him. “Henry won’t marry Elle Weston, but I could.”
“Father—no!”
“Am I not good enough for the girl?”
“Of course you would make a fine husband for any woman, but not Elle.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Surely it was the drink speaking. “You want to leave her unhappy for the rest of her life?”
“Marriage and happiness need not go hand in hand.”
“Oh, please. Listen to yourself. Give Elle a chance to have love and joy in a happy marriage like you had with Maman.” Edward started to retort, but Bea clutched his arms. “Don’t take that away from her.”
Edward frowned. “Then I shall find another. Henry can go swive his blond knight and good riddance to them both.”
“That knight is the brother of the man I intend to marry.”
“I don’t care if he is the brother of the good Lord Jesus. He will not be welcome at Greyton, and you will warn me to stay away from Cartholme if he is here.”
“And your son?”
Edward tossed back another drink. “I have no son.”
*
Henry stared at silhouettes of the trees across the pasture. He heard a door groan and saw that Elle had followed him.
The cool breeze caught her gown and it swayed beneath the bright crescent moon. As Elle drew to his side, Soleil wandered up to the fence rail. She stroked the animal’s snout. “I wish there was something I might do to help.”
“You’ve been a good friend. I cannot ask for more except that you stay safe and away from your brother.”
“Edric may order me home.” Elle shivered.
Henry slid his arm around her waist protectively. “I shall ask the king to see that you stay with Bea, at least until you marry.” Moonlight captured something in her eyes that he’d never seen. Fear. “You must believe King Richard will be back in England soon.”
“I want to.”
He heard the quiver in her voice. “You need not pretend to be the strong one. I am here—we are all here—for you.”
Looking into his eyes, Elle nodded. She rested her head against his shoulder and then turned, pressing herself into the warmth and comfort of his embrace.
Three dozen of Robin’s men had set camp in the wood most of the summer to watch the old Roman road for signs that Lincoln would be provisioned for war. Though Count John and King Philip’s offer to the Emperor Henry had been quashed, informants had reported an increase in messengers to the Castle as the deadline for the truce grew close.
Forays into the surrounding countryside had revealed nothing unusual on Little John’s watch. He could not remember so quiet a time for as long as he had served Sir Stephan. Grateful, he gave thanks to God every night, and, on this day, to Robin who had given him leave to hunt for dinner. Allan accompanied him, chatting like a clucking hen—a quiet one, if that was possible. It had not taken Allan long to realize Little John was scouting for more than rabbit. Elle had returned from Yorkshire with Sir Henry’s sister. And the camp was so close to Cartholme. He just wanted one look.
“Where are we going?” Allan asked innocently. “Aim to get us lost, do you?”
“Shh!” Little John bit back his guilt. “You’ll scare the rabbits. I know exactly where we are.”
He stopped mid-stride and Allan plowed into him. As the bigger man crouched behind a holly bush, Allan saw their quarry. The manor house at Cartholme. “Rabbits my arse.” Drawing down to one knee, he said, “You sly hound. When did you figure we were in bow range of Lady Bea’s home?”
“Makes no difference. I just did.”
“I knew you were smitten! Why did you not tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. You saw Sarah from a distance at the harvest celebration. And Sir Stephan had the night with Sir Henry. I was jealous.” The whole summer had passed since he’d seen Elle in Yorkshire. He could picture her long golden hair and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed. “Just a glimpse. That’s all I need.”
Allan grew thoughtful. “I understand, brother. I did see Sarah smile, but it was from afa
r and not what I’d have preferred. I worry for her. That captain…using her.” He smacked the bush. “When the king returns I will take her away from this.” Exhaling, he cocked his head towards the manor. “Can you see anyone?”
The yard, stables, shops, and the manor house with its stone keep were bathed in moonlight. Little John jerked his head back to the stables. “Elle—with Sir Henry.” Chewing on his lip, he growled and drew up on his haunches. His heart pounded like waves crashing against a rocky shore. “He’s got his arms around her. Look, did he just kiss her?”
“Calm now.”
Clouds scudded across the moon, casting Elle and Henry in shadows. They were close. Too close.
“I’m going to—”
“What? Kill him?” Allan asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
“Of course not. But I’ve a mind to charge in there. Tell him to keep his hands off my girl.” Passion flared in Little John’s voice. His fist tightened. “He knows I would marry her.”
“But she isn’t your girl, let alone your wife. Sir Henry’s father expects—”
“She’s as good my girl as the moon is full.”
Allan pointed to the crescent hanging like a jewel in the sky.
“You know what I mean.” Little’s John’s heart held fast to the kiss he’d shared with Elle beneath brilliant stars and a June moon. He sighed deeply, and then looked to Allan. “I know I have nothing. Lord Henry has wealth, property. But she cares for me. She will marry me.”
“She’ll have to do as she’s told. That’s how things are.”
“She would not. They would not. She knows Henry loves Sir Stephan.” Little John ground his fist against his thigh. Sir Stephan had told him Elle’s betrothal to Henry would be sorted when the king returned and he’d nothing to worry about, but he had to let Elle know he wanted her for his wife.
“I am going down there,” he said watching Elle and Henry walk back to the house and disappear inside.
“You cannot. Robin said we mustn’t be seen.”
“No one but Elle will see me.” He shoved past Allan and raced to where they’d tethered the horses. Mounting, he put heels to the animal’s flanks, ignoring Allan’s calls. In any case, what would he say? I’ve nothing to worry about. Well, nothing except Sir Robin. He would not be happy.
For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2) Page 32
