Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  “Your grace, it is only recently that I have felt this calling. That is why I have not expressed it before now. I wish to be sure that it is the right thing to do.”

  “I see,” Edward said. He glanced at Lord John, whose face was impassive and unreadable. “Well, there is no hurry. John has come home to stay and I will remain here to talk to Robert at any event.”

  “Thank you for your consideration,” Imma said. “I will pray for guidance.”

  • • •

  The chapel was still and quiet and Imma sighed with relief as she sat in a pew. She had been sure to have Lord John’s eyes on her before she came into the chapel, looking suitably pious, eyes downcast, prayer beads (borrowed from Elizabeth) prominently in hand. She had not acknowledged John, but she had felt his gray eyes on her. According to Elizabeth, John had found Imma pleasing and wanted her for his wife even more now that he had met her.

  Her stomach clenched as she remembered how Simon had reacted the same way. If Lord John pressed his case … he was a powerful man, second only to the king.

  And she was just a woman. A Welsh noble, to be sure, but to these English that would not mean so much.

  Praying did not help her sore heart. She remembered slipping through the chapel door to Robert’s room when he’d been hurt in the forest. She did that now, stopping inside the doorway, her heart pounding, her eyes filling with tears.

  Now the hearth was empty, the table bare. She walked to the stool by his bed, and sank onto it as she had that day. Robert. Where was he now? Why did he not return? She picked up his pillow and buried her face in it, inhaling his scent.

  She was a fool. He believed she had betrayed him. He would want nothing to do with her. He would come back and be immediately dispossessed from his home. What care would he have for her then? He would have his own future to get. He would not like that she was bound to his brother, but it would secure her future and he would not stop it. Where would he go? What would he do?

  What would she do?

  • • •

  “My lady,” Imma said, entering Elizabeth’s room from the chapel door. “Forgive my intruding like this.”

  Elizabeth looked up. Her sewing lay unheeded in her lap. She looked all of her seventy years. Imma’s conscience bit at her. Why must she draw an elderly lady into this?

  Elizabeth’s voice was hoarse when she spoke. “You are welcome here, child. I am sure you have worn calluses on your knees from praying and would like a diversion.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Imma went to the chair next to Elizabeth’s and clasped the older woman’s hand in hers. “I fear I am not religious. For all I cannot bear to marry Lord John, I can’t take vows to prevent it.”

  “I understand,” Elizabeth said. “Many widows my age enter nunneries but I have never cared to do so. I support the Glastonbury abbot and his monastery so that they can do the praying my soul requires.”

  Imma smiled but her heart was not in it. She knew what had to be done. “My lady, will you help me escape to Wales?”

  Elizabeth’s brow rose in surprise. Then she said, “I suppose ‘escape’ is the word for it. You are sure it is your only choice?”

  “If I do not enter a nunnery and I refuse John, he and Edward will be vexed.”

  Elizabeth snorted a laugh. “Most assuredly they will.”

  “I cannot refuse John and then ask Edward to arrange a marriage for me to some other noble.”

  “That is true.”

  “But if I return to my uncle, though he will be angry, he will marry me to a Welsh, and all will be well.”

  Elizabeth sighed.

  “Or as well as can be expected,” Imma added. Then, softly, “Oh, Elizabeth. What I have got myself into! I only hope when I am your age I will be able to look upon this episode of my life with humor and fondness.”

  “I hope so, too,” Elizabeth said, but from the tone of her voice, it was obvious she thought it unlikely. “I agree it is wise to return to your uncle. If you cannot marry John and you cannot take vows, I don’t see what else you can do.”

  “Then you will help me? You have thanes, loyal to you, perhaps in Glastonbury? To guide a ship across the sea? I cannot manage that on my own.”

  “My lady, you surprise me,” Elizabeth said. “I had thought you could manage anything. Yes, I have thanes. When do you plan to leave?”

  “The sooner the better. Make the arrangements, my lady. Oh, how I will miss you — and Athelney.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The dawn broke over Athelney. In the darkness, Imma slipped out of the keep and into the stable. She saddled the palfrey, then tied the small bundle of her possessions to the saddle. Last night, she had kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, and Elizabeth had clasped her hand and promised to tell Tilly how sorry Imma was to leave without saying good-bye. But the fewer people who knew she was on her way to Wales, the more likely she would be to succeed.

  Now Imma rode her palfrey along the causeway. Jacob the stable boy was ahead on the hunter he had borrowed from the stable. He had agreed to see her to Glastonbury, where Elizabeth had arranged for the abbot to give her sanctuary, and to hire a shipmaster to take her across the sea.

  She was leaving Athelney. She wore the blue dress that Elizabeth had given her for Christmas and the travel cloak that had seen her through all these adventures. She had known she must leave Athelney in spring. Why was it so hard to do?

  Robert didn’t want her, and she wouldn’t marry John. There was nothing for her here. And yet, just before he left to fight, Robert had held her in his arms, warm and understanding and she had loved him so much then.

  She loved him so much now. It was more than she could bear that he thought so little of her, that he would assume she must be the one who betrayed him.

  The healer’s words echoed through Imma’s mind. He will destroy all things Welsh. He will take his men across the sea and none will stand against him. I have seen this, my lady. I have seen the sea run red with blood.

  Her uncle had believed she could make the peace, but she could not. And though Robert accused her of betraying him, his was not the towering rage the healer predicted. He had expected Imma to betray him, and so in his mind she had, and all it meant was he did not love her, not that he would someday avenge his hurt by making the sea run red with blood.

  They had reached the edge of Glastonbury forest. Imma paused, looking up at the towering trees. All of the things that had happened among those trees … .

  “My lady?” Jacob said. “You need not fear the thiefmen. Lord Robert has destroyed them utterly.”

  “I know,” Imma said. She looked at the boy. “It will go hard for you when you return to Athelney and Lord John discovers your role in this.”

  The boy lifted his chin. “When I have delivered you safely to the abbot, I will ride to join Lord Robert.”

  “You don’t fear the war he makes?”

  “I am his thane. I would follow Lord Robert anywhere,” Jacob said stoutly, squaring his thin shoulders beneath his bright blue tunic.

  • • •

  The day dawned gray and overcast. They had traveled all across Wessex, encountering no signs of the Welsh army — other than the destruction of a village here and there, or a small unit left behind to ambush them, which Robert and his army dispatched readily enough. So he had ordered his men to return to the keep, restless and uneasy, unsatisfied.

  When they reached the broad plains north of Athelney, Robert and his retainers found the Welsh army. They stood between him and his keep.

  Before he could give a command, Gruffydd and his second cantered to the middle of the field. Usually the soldiers dismounted, tethering their horses away from the field of battle, keeping them safe from injury. The men fought on foot. This was how the Welsh and English had always met.

 
But the Welsh king had something to say.

  Did Robert want to hear it?

  A cold spring rain began to fall. He would win this fight. The English must prevail. What need had he for conversation? Deeds and actions, that was what mattered.

  What would he say to Gruffydd? Your niece, or one who claims to be, has sought sanctuary at my keep. If you wish to see her safe home, then lay down your arms?

  Imma, who betrayed him. She did not even defend herself or explain herself or say, What did you expect of a Welshwoman? She did not demand to know why he would accuse her of such a thing. Imagine accusing Elizabeth of betrayal. Elizabeth would run him through with a sword.

  But that was not Imma’s way. I would have your esteem she had once said to him.

  Why did he think she betrayed him, except that other women had? Had not other men betrayed him? Look at what Osbrycht had done. And yet he did not assume that the second at his side was getting ready to plunge the spear into his back.

  Robert stole a glance over his shoulder.

  No. His stomach clenched as he thought. He did not like to think. The more he thought, the less he was sure that blaming Imma for betraying him and stabbing Gruffydd through the heart was the best way to end this bloodshed.

  The more he thought, the more he knew he had wronged Imma. Who else could have given plans to the Welsh? he had demanded. When it could have been anyone. It could have been his steward, Michael, for all he knew. Why did it have to be Imma? Because he wanted it to be, he expected it to be. Because the arrival of the Welsh meant winter had ended and Imma must go and it was easier to see her leave as a faithless deceiver than as the woman he loved. Because if he loved Imma and he could not have her —

  If he loved Imma —

  He must listen to the Welsh king.

  He nodded to his second and they rode out to meet Gruffydd in the muddy field.

  “Robert,” the Welsh king said, his English heavily accented.

  “Gruffydd.”

  “My son, Malcolm.” Gruffydd nodded toward his second. “He was in your care this winter. He and his men escaped, which brings shame to me.”

  Robert glanced at Malcolm, whose face was tight with anger.

  “I am wealthy enough to ransom my sons,” Gruffydd said.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “I have chastised him for his behavior. He offers his apologies to you.”

  Malcolm gritted his teeth and said, “I am sorry my behavior embarrasses my father.”

  Robert nodded. Gruffydd glared at his son. It was not much of an apology.

  “Malcolm tells me something that troubles me greatly.” Gruffydd tightened his grip on his spear. “He says you have dishonored my niece. I have fought you many times, Robert, and you have been a man of honor. But if you have done this to me, and to mine, I will burn Wessex to the ground.”

  Robert bit back his first reaction. You must get through me first. He understood exactly what Gruffydd meant.

  “I have not betrayed Lady Imma’s honor,” he said. And yet he had. Not in the way Gruffydd meant, but he had.

  “Then you deny having done anything improper? I warn you, she is the daughter of my heart.”

  What was wrong with stabbing people with spears? It would be easier than having this conversation.

  The Welsh king glared at him when he didn’t answer right away. He didn’t think he had the words to explain any of it. He thought for a moment, then fumbled at his throat and lifted the jewel Imma had given him from beneath his tunic and chain mail.

  Gruffydd inhaled sharply. “Where did you get this?”

  “Imma gave it to me.”

  “She gave it to you? Willingly?”

  “That is so.”

  “You know what it means?”

  It could mean many things. That she was trying to convince him she had an affection for him that did not exist. That she believed a sign of her affection toward him would assuage his doubts. But he knew what it meant.

  “It means she loves me.”

  “And you?”

  “And I love her,” he said simply, and wondered how it could have taken him so long to say it.

  The king nodded again but didn’t look convinced. “Why have you not sent a messenger?”

  “A messenger?”

  “To negotiate for a marriage bond. Malcolm tells me she is a widow. You say you love each other. Even in England, I have heard that wives and husbands sometimes love each other.”

  “I am a younger son,” Robert said. “And she is a Welsh princess.”

  The king grunted. “Yes. They call you the Steward. Lord John will return and dispossess you. It is why we began our campaign before his return, for he will bring more men.”

  Robert stared at him. “How do you know this?”

  “Imma told Malcolm how she came into your household. She said what that man Harold’s duty was — that you were called to account. John’s returning is the only reason why that would be.”

  Robert felt off-balance now. How could this Welsh king know more about his lands than he did? The old king smiled, and his smile was more ferocious than his scowl.

  “I have ruled a wilder land for many years longer than you, Robert. And I believe everything Imma says.”

  John was returning to Wessex? Robert wondered who else had divined this. He remembered how Imma had put it: Edward has had a messenger from John. But he had been so convinced that he could not believe her he had not thought what it might mean if she told the truth.

  But Malcolm had discerned what it meant —

  And Osbrycht had discerned what it meant —

  He had not believed Imma, because he knew Edward would have informed Robert of what he intended, and told him to ready his household to receive Harold.

  But Robert had been out fighting the Welsh at the time. And Osbrycht could have intercepted the king’s message. He could have destroyed Harold’s company. Everyone knew that John could not hold these lands without Robert. So Robert must be got out of the way. That had been Osbrycht’s plan.

  Malcolm’s plan, less serpentine, had been to get the news to his father as quickly as possibly so they could attack before John arrived.

  If Robert had believed everything Imma said —

  What would she tell him to do right now?

  Make the peace, Robert.

  “I would not be at war with you,” he announced clearly.

  Gruffydd nearly dropped his spear in surprise.

  “You must win this war before John joins his army to mine,” Robert said.

  “Then you have the upper hand,” Gruffydd said. “And only a fool would sue for peace.”

  “I will not ride against my kin.”

  This time Gruffydd did drop his spear.

  “You are asking to marry my niece?” Gruffydd demanded.

  “Even so.”

  “You are a younger son, about to be dispossessed, and she is a Welsh princess.”

  “Even so.”

  Gruffydd threw his head back and laughed. “I told her she would make the peace. I just did not expect her to do it by confounding Robert the Steward. I would not have thought it possible. Very well, my lord. You may have her, if she is willing, and my blessing with it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They had made it through the forest. Imma turned to Jacob and said, “I can make my own way now. Go to your lord.”

  “You know the way to the monastery from here?”

  “I can see the outer wall.” Imma pointed.

  Jacob hesitated and said, “Is there a message, my lady?”

  She glanced over at him. “A message?”

  Jacob turned pink. “For my lord,” he muttered.

  “No,” she sai
d. “He believes I have betrayed him.”

  “Oh, he cannot believe that!”

  “But he does. He accused me of it.”

  “Well, he has a temper and does not always think before he speaks. When he thinks, he will know better,” Jacob said.

  “He should not have to think to know better.”

  “You know what he is like,” Jacob said. “You must tell him how foolish he is when he gets a notion like that.”

  “I should not have to. If he thinks so little of me — ”

  Jacob stared at her with wide eyes. “My lady, everyone knows he thinks the world of you. That is why he is so foolish. Everyone knows that.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” she said crossly.

  “My lady.” Jacob paused. “When I became an apprentice to the horse-thane, he often said to me, ‘You should know how to muck out a stall’ or ‘You should know how to mend a saddle.’ And he would clout me on the ear because I did not.”

  She stared at him. What did that have to do with her situation?

  “Well, it was foolish of the horse-thane,” Jacob explained with a shrug. “Perhaps I should have known, but I did not. If he had told me what to do, or shown me how, he would have been much less frustrated, and I would not have got my ears boxed half so much.”

  Imma turned away. It was ridiculous to compare Robert to an ignorant horse-thane. Robert should —

  He had been betrayed so often and loved so little. She always expected he should act as a gentleman would, but he acted exactly as a hard-pressed soldier who had been betrayed so often and loved so little would. Why should that surprise her? It had, she realized, nothing to do with her.

  Of course, he should not accuse her of betrayal, but she had not even responded to the charge, which probably made him think he was right. She had not reassured him of the love and esteem she had for him. Which was almost certainly what he had wanted to hear —