Lady of Steel

by Mary Gillgannon

  “What else do you know about FitzRandolph?” Fawkes asked. “Is he a strong leader? Or, merely acting as John’s lackey?”

  “My impression of FitzRandolph is that he is a shrewd man and a careful one. The very opposite of Mortimer. When they disagreed, FitzRandolph remained calm, while Mortimer argued and raged.”

  “Having met the man, and knowing what you know, how do you think we should approach him?”

  Nicola was stunned. That Fawkes would ask her opinion—a mere woman—’twas unthinkable.

  She concentrated, remembering the banquet. At the time, she’d been so distracted by the misery of being Mortimer’s wife, she’d scarce paid attention to their visitors. And yet, she did have a sense of this man, Roger FitzRandolph. “I think you might be able to reason with him. You have the writ from Richard, and you are married to me. Your claim is strong. More importantly, Valmar will not be an easy castle to take.”

  “That will be my strategy then. I will reason with him.”

  Reynard looked as if he would burst. His face was flushed and his green eyes bulged. “One day ago, you were deathly ill. Now you propose to arm yourself, mount a horse and ride out to meet an enemy!”

  “I can do it. If I take one step at a time. I am weak, but not so weak I can’t rally for this, when my whole future—our whole future—depends on it.” He looked at Nicola as he spoke. His gaze burned with emotion.

  Reynard stared at Fawkes and then headed for the door. “I’m going to get Glennyth. We’ll see what she has to say about this nonsense.” He slammed the door behind him.

  With Reynard gone, Nicola felt much better. Fawkes seemed to understand her, while Reynard never would.

  A frown creased Fawkes’s forehead. “I wish we knew what was happening at Mordeaux. There are so many unknowns. ’Tis risky to bargain when we don’t know what’s truly at stake. If FitzSaer has our son, we must stall FitzRandolph while we think of a way to rescue the boy.”

  Nicola nodded. It was a relief to be talking strategy with Fawkes. “If Temmen was able to get inside Mordeaux and speak to Morwenna, we should soon know much more.”

  “I don’t think we dare wait for Temmen’s return. The longer we delay in confronting FitzRandolph, the more confident he will become.”

  “You believe you can do this? Don your mail and sit a horse?”

  “I have to try. If I don’t ride out to meet him, FitzRandolph may decide Valmar is ripe for the taking.”

  “But it’s not,” Nicola insisted. “With the grain harvest almost in and the rest of the foodstores, we could hold out for several months.”

  “What if they bring in siege engines and batter the walls? And what of the people outside the castle? Although FitzRandolph has undoubtedly brought supplies, if things drag out, his army will end up living off the land. How do we stop them from seizing the crops and livestock of the villagers? We might prevail in the end, but what’s the point if our villeins end up starving this winter?”

  It pleased Nicola to realize Fawkes saw things the way she did. That being a lord meant you were responsible for the people you ruled. “If you are determined to do this, what do you need?” she asked. “How can I help you?”

  “First, I must get up.”

  Nicola nodded. “I will fetch some men.

  ****

  After Nicola left, Fawkes lay back and closed his eyes, thinking he might as well rest as much as he could. What he was about to do would take every bit of his strength and will. He hoped Nicola would hurry. Although he didn’t think Glennyth would agree with Reynard in this matter, he didn’t want to waste any more energy arguing with his captain. Reynard might have the best intentions, but it was not his decision to make.

  He also didn’t like Reynard’s treatment of Nicola, the way he had accused her of wanting him dead simply because she wasn’t treating him like a pathetic invalid. If Nicola had wanted to be rid of him, she could have easily managed it over the past few days. She’d done everything she could to save him.

  She loved him. Knowing that made him feel like anything was possible. He imagined himself floating down the stairs, buoyed by the thought that his cool, dispassionate wife loved him. The thought of it made everything he’d endured up until this moment seem more than worthwhile.

  But there was another test ahead of him, and he dare not fail it, or all his dreams might still come crashing down. If anything happened to their son, Nicola would never get over it. She might never forgive him if that happened. “One more trial. One more test. If you can make it through this, then you will have finally won your heart’s desire.”

  A short while later, Nicola entered followed by burly Engelard and Ellis the smith. Fawkes motioned Engelard and Ellis near. “I’m getting up. Whoever is on my left side needs to be especially careful. Support me under my arm and don’t pull or bump my shoulder.”

  He eased himself to the side of the bed. The two men stood on either side of him and gingerly helped him to his feet.

  Reynard entered the room. “You’re a fool,” he muttered.

  Fawkes had no energy to waste arguing. With the two men half carrying him, he managed to make it down the stairs and out of the castle. They help him to the armory where he sank down on a bench. He sat struggling against the pain and weakness. After a time he motioned for them to bring his gambeson and mail shirt. They armored him and he sat down again. He was out of breath, and the weight of the mail shirt made his shoulder ache excruciatingly. How would he ever manage to ride out of the keep, let alone converse once he met up with FitzRandolph?

  He’d told the men to give him a moment. But the longer he sat there, the more he suspected Reynard was right and he truly could not do this. He took long slow breaths, hoping the pain would ease.

  “You see?” Reynard swiped the air in a frustrated gesture. “You’re not up to this. All you’re doing is risking further injury to your shoulder.”

  “Did Glennyth tell you that?” Fawkes asked. “Did she say I could not do this?”

  “Nay, but ’tis obvious to anyone with eyes in their head!”

  Nicola stood nearby. So far Fawkes had avoided her gaze. He dreaded the thought of failing her. The idea that he could not defend her home and the future heritage of their son was utterly humiliating.

  “Perhaps this is not such a good plan,” Nicola said in a soft voice. “For FitzRandolph to see you like this would only hurt our cause.”

  “Finally, she sees reason!” Reynard exclaimed. He motioned to Engelard and Ellis. “Get that mail shirt off him and arm me instead. Time is passing. Soon it will be too dark to parlay with FitzRandolph.”

  The knights helped Fawkes stand and eased his mail shirt over his head. Fawkes sat down with a grunt, still wearing his gambeson. He’d never felt more like a failure.

  “To me.” Reynard motioned to his own mail shirt hung on pegs on the wall.

  “You’re going out there?” Engelard asked.

  “I’m Fawkes’s captain. ’Tis my place to speak for him. Besides, there’s no one else.”

  “That’s not true,” Nicola said. “I’m the lady of Valmar, and FitzRandolph knows me. I will speak to him.”

  “What nonsense is this?” Reynard turned to her. “You’re the prize FitzRandolph seeks. If he seizes you, all is lost for Fawkes. And for the rest of us.”

  “I’m not going to ride out by myself. I’ll take an escort, a dozen knights, all on swift horses. Meanwhile, post archers on the walls. If FitzRandolph knows his own neck is at risk, he won’t try anything underhanded. He’s a cautious man.”

  Reynard appeared on the edge of apoplexy. “This is ridiculous!” He turned to Fawkes. “You can’t let her do this. She has no experience in negotiating.”

  “Ah, but she does,” Fawkes said. “Indeed, if it were not for her, FitzRandolph wouldn’t even be here.” He saw her blanch and added, “I have no doubt Nicola is a match for any man when it comes to bargaining. Especially when it involves someone dear to her. She has the most to l
ose in this. Therefore, it’s only right she be the one to confront FitzRandolph.”

  Reynard shook his head. “I can’t believe this. You clearly have no faith in me.”

  “That’s not true. I know you are loyal to a fault and always have my best interests in mind. But my instincts tell me that in this matter Nicola matches up against FitzRandolph better than you do. After all, her lineage as the lady of Valmar goes back generations.”

  “But she is a woman, negotiating with a man. She may have charmed and seduced you to do her will, but you can hardly expect her to manipulate FitzRandolph so easily.”

  Fawkes made an abrupt gesture. “I’ve made up my mind. If you want to be part of her escort, I see no harm in that. But Nicola will speak on my behalf.”

  “I must change. I scarce look like a lady in my stained work gown with my hair in rough plaits.”

  “Go then,” Fawkes said. “And hurry. As Reynard pointed out, the day passes quickly.”

  ****

  A short while later, Nicola rode down trackway from the castle, accompanied by a dozen knights. She wore her gray silk gown with her scarlet mantle over it. Her hair was braided away from her face, but she wore no head covering. She would not go to this man looking demure and meek, like a nun or proper matron. She hadn’t listened to Old Emma’s counsel in what to wear, but Fawkes’s. He’d advised her to ride forth like a queen, her bright mantle mirroring the vivid red of the banner Sir Gerard carried.

  The Valmar device—a black hawk on a crimson banner—fluttered in the breeze. I must think and act like a queen, Nicola told herself as she steadied her hands on the reins of her white palfrey. She must be like the Queen Mother, Lady Eleanor, who had a will to match any man’s. She would remember Eleanor as she negotiated with FitzRandolph. She would also remember the way Fawkes had looked at her before she rode out, his dark eyes blazing with pride and love. He believed she could do this. She would not fail him.

  The army was setting up camp, staking out their position in the valley. But a look-out had seen their approach, and as they drew near, a group of mounted knights carrying the gold and black FitzRandolph banner made their way through the mass of men, tents and supply wagons. Nicola and her escort halted and waited for the envoy to approach.

  FitzRandolph wore a gold and black surcote over full armor, but no helm. His nut-brown hair was thinning at the crown and streaked with gray, but he looked fit and strong and his weathered features were as bold and striking as Nicola recalled. The troupe of knights halted a few paces away. Nicola saw the flash of surprise in FitzRandolph’s dark eyes as he realized she meant to lead the negotiations herself.

  “Lady Mortimer.” He inclined his head politely.

  “Not Mortimer,” Nicola answered. “Lady de Cressy. Mortimer has been dead for some time. I am wed to Fawkes de Cressy now.”

  “Where is de Cressy?” FitzRandolph asked. “Why is he not here to argue his claim? I had not thought to negotiate with his wife. Or perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps I’m negotiating with his widow.”

  “Fawkes was wounded, but he is mending. If you look up at the walkway near the gatetower, you will see him.” Nicola turned and gestured to Fawkes, standing tall and proud in his crusader surcote, his black hair clearly visible even from this distance.

  FitzRandoph cocked a skeptical brow. “Mending? And yet he does not come to meet me? Doesn’t he realize what’s at stake?”

  “Fawkes is healing well, but I didn’t want him to overtask himself. He took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder, shot by an assassin on Adam FitzSaer’s orders. A cowardly act, to shoot a man on a peaceful mission, especially using such a brutal weapon. If you think to ally yourself with FitzSaer, you should beware of his treacherous nature.”

  FitzRandolph’s tone was scornful. “I’m not allied with FitzSaer, and I certainly do not answer to him. Indeed, the only man I answer to is Prince John, soon to be King of England.”

  “Ah, there is the crux of the matter. ’Tis all well and good to say John will soon be king, but you can’t know it will be so. Richard may be imprisoned, but the terms of his release are being negotiated as we speak. Given that he is strong and fit, there’s every reason to think he will be our king for many more years. As you’ve no doubt been told, my husband Fawkes de Cressy has a writ from Richard giving him Mordeaux and Valmar. For you to try to seize these properties from their rightful overlord is nothing short of treason.”

  FitzRandolph gave her a grim smile. “You had no trouble plotting treason when you were wed to Mortimer. Or have you forgotten what you told Father FitzAlan?”

  Nicola fought to control her anger. FitzRandolph was trying to provoke her. “Mortimer was unfit, both as a husband and as an overlord. I believe Richard learned of Mortimer’s failings and that’s why he awarded the lands to Fawkes, knowing he would be a much better steward of the castles than Mortimer could ever be.”

  “Even so, if Richard was ever to learn of your part in Mortimer’s downfall, I don’t think he’d be pleased. ’Tis ungodly and unnatural for a woman to plot against her husband, no matter his faults. Richard may tolerate such behavior in his mother, but I doubt he would accept it in any other woman. Indeed, I think he would discipline your unwomanly pride and defiance by wedding you to a man who is strong enough to take you in hand and force you to submit to his will. Fawkes de Cressy is clearly not that man.”

  “These are matters for the king to decide when he finally returns to England. You have no say in whom I’m wed to. And no claim whatsoever to Valmar or Mordeaux.”

  FitzRandolph’s dark eyes glittered. “Such defiance. ’Tis unbecoming of a gentlewoman. You are most desperately in need of discipline, Lady Nicola.”

  “That is for my husband to decide, Sir Roger.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps not.” FitzRandolph turned and started to raise his arm. A second later, an arrow whistled out of nowhere and struck the ground in front of him. Almost the same moment, Engelard and Reynard rode forward, their horses forming a barrier between Nicola and FitzRandolph.

  “Go ahead,” Reynard jeered at FitzRandolph. “Give the order to seize Lady Nicola. I vow you’ll die with an arrow in your gullet ere any of your men touch her.”

  Nicola let out her breath in relief. The archer on the castle wall must have had his bow already drawn and been waiting for some sign from Reynard to loose the arrow.

  If she was startled, then FitzRandolph was stunned. But his look of surprise quickly altered to one of fury. He glared up at Fawkes, who saluted him from the ramparts. Then FitzRandolph jerked his mount around and shouted at his men to do the same.

  The troupe of knights rode off. Nicola’s stomach churned as she struggled to master her frazzled nerves. “Thank you,” she said to Reynard. “I’m glad you came up with this plan to defend me. Otherwise I’d probably be on my way to his tent at this moment.”

  “Mayhaps now you will realize that while you may be the lady of Valmar, you have no hope of holding it without Fawkes.”

  “Of course I realize that. I’m not an utter fool.”

  Reynard’s jaw remained stiff and his green eyes frosty. “What do you think you’ve accomplished in all of this? You’ve faced down FitzRandolph. Now what happens?”

  “I don’t know what will happen. But at least FitzRandolph realizes I’m not powerless, and neither is Fawkes. He also knows we stand united. Perhaps he will think twice about attacking Valmar, knowing it is guarded by a seasoned battle commander…and his bold and daring captain.” She smiled at Reynard, hoping her recognition of his part in things would ease his anger. His fierce expression did appear to soften as he turned away.

  “I wish we knew what was going on at Mordeaux,” he said. “If FitzRandolph controls the keep there, he’ll see this as only a minor setback.”

  “Surely Temmen and Alexander will be back soon,” she said. “Perhaps they are, and we don’t know of it yet. They might have gone through the village to avoid FitzRandolph’s army.”

  Reynard
didn’t answer, but wheeled his horse around and set off for the castle.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By the time Nicola and Reynard reached the tower room, Fawkes was back in bed and Glennyth was tending him.

  “You were magnificent,” Fawkes said, his voice husky with emotion.

  Despite his effusive reaction, Nicola could tell from the ashen look of his normally tanned skin that the last hour had consumed every bit of his strength.

  “Thank you,” she responded. “But despite my efforts, all would have been lost if not for Reynard’s quick reaction and planning. Although I knew FitzRandolph might try to abduct me, I thought there would be more warning. But one moment we were calmly conversing and the next he was giving the order to grab me.”

  “Trust no one, is my thought when dealing with high-born men,” Fawkes said. “I certainly had enough experience while on Crusade.”

  “FitzRandolph is a canny one,” Reynard said.

  “Which might work in our favor,” Fawkes responded. “He will think very carefully about what he risks. If we have convinced him that taking Valmar will cost him time and men, he might well decide there are easier properties to seize.”

  “I believe we’ve made a good start of convincing him of that,” said Nicola.

  “I believe we have,” Fawkes responded.

  Reynard remained silent.

  Nicola stood. “We need to find out if Temmen has returned. If he hasn’t, we must send someone after him.” She started toward the door.

  “Nicola,” Fawkes called. She turned, her spirits lifting at the warmth in his expression. “Hurry back.”

  “Of course.” Her body tingled with happiness as she started down the stairs. Many things could still go wrong. But God willing, Fawkes was recovering and it was possible they might have a future together.

  She reached the yard to the sound of shouts and cheering. It seemed to be coming from the barracks so she headed there. Inside, Gerard and Engelard were regaling the rest of the knights with the tale of the meeting with FitzRandolph. They were in high spirits, boasting of how Fawkes and Reynard had thwarted FitzRandolph’s plans. Then they saw her and quieted.