by Maura Seger
Though he showed not the slightest hint of anger, his manner alone was enough to cause the knights to hesitate. Not even their vastly superior numbers were enough to make them risk challenging so powerful a warrior, who, it was already rumored, just might have William's favor.
Despite the muttered speculation about why he was there, no effort was made to stop them. Still Roanna did not breathe comfortably until they were through the great hall into the anteroom which led to the new King's, private quarters.
The room was crowded, but they were instantly spotted by the man awaiting their arrival. Odo, Bishop of Bayeaux, newly made Earl of Kent, and half-brother to William, was a startling figure. His ecclesiastic robes were rigorously correct, yet the scarlet velvet embroidered in lush gold thread and the massive cross embedded with precious stones looked utterly out of place on a man so evidently born for the battlefield rather than the pulpit
Not that the apparent contradiction between his character and his calling seemed to trouble Odo. At thirty, he was renowned as the ruthless facilitator of bis half-brother's policies. His abilities were manifold, extending from the skilled manipulation of legal doctrine to the deadly wielding of a studded mace at Hastings, where he accounted for more than his fair share of the slaughter while technically honoring his church's prohibition against her servants carrying swords.
Since being appointed to the bishopric at the scandalously young age of nineteen, Odo had never permitted his holy orders to interfere with his pursuit of either power or pleasure. He was known to favor an accord with the Anglo-Saxons for the simple reason that further warfare would threaten the wealth he hoped to accumulate. Said to be far readier to destroy an enemy or tumble a wench than to say a mass, he had nonetheless impressed Roanna as a man who, once having decided where his interests lay, could be trusted to follow through. As such, she was glad to see him.
The bishop shared her delight. Odo's small black eyes set beneath bushy brows glowed as he looked her over appreciatively before reluctantly turning his attention to Colin.
"My Lord Algerson, you are most welcome, as is your lady. Roanna, my dear, you look glorious as ever. I trust you have been well?"
"Exceedingly, sir. And you?"
"Much better now that you are here." Dropping his voice confidentially, he added, "Never have I seen a drearier court We are starving for even a morsel of beauty and here you provide a banquet"
Colin's eyes widened slightly at such blatant flattery, but he made no objection. No man, even one as bold as Odo, would advertise his intended seductions in the very presence of an armed and clearly watchful husband.
Nor did Roanna mistake his compliments for anything more than what they were. The bishop, greedy and lustful though he might be, was the furthest thing from a fool. Even as he gave the appearance of flirting with her, he was adroitly steering both Algersons toward a secluded corner where they could all talk privately.
Her presence provided the necessary cover for what quickly developed into a serious discussion.
"Ordinarily, it would take several weeks for you to arrange a meeting with the King," Odo began, "his schedule being so hectic. But frankly I think William will be curious to meet the man who killed DeBourgnon. So I will present you to him this morning after he finishes with the council"
This was far better than Colin had hoped. Whatever William's reaction to the Norman's death, he wanted to get this first meeting over with as soon as possible. At least then he would know if there was any basis for accord.
Cautiously, he said, "I thank you for your assistance. There must be many here who don't want me to get anywhere near William."
"That is true," Odo confirmed, "it is an unfortunate fact that we are suffering an excess of shortsighted fools."
The prelate's bushy eyebrows arched toward a tall, red-faced man standing near the door. "Take FitzStephen, for instance. He won't be content until every Anglo-Saxon lies dead and every inch of land is ruled by a Norman. It doesn't seem to occur to him that if we embark on such a course of wanton destruction, there will be no one left to tend the fields, reap the harvest, pay the taxes, or do any of those other mundane things necessary for a kingdom's survival. Moreover, FitzStephen and the others like him forget that William still has another realm to rule. Part of his time each year must be spent in Normandy. But he cannot leave here until he is confident of peace."
"Perhaps I can help instill that confidence," Colin suggested quietly. Meeting the bishop's gaze, he added, "For a price, of course."
Odo nodded philosophically. He lived in a world in which everything from eternal forgiveness of sins to the sexual use of another's body could be had for a price. Far from objecting to Colin's pragmatism, he applauded it William, the bishop believed, would find this Anglo-Saxon chieftain a great improvement over the blustering hotheads who had all too much in common with the more belligerent faction of his own supporters.
A short time later, as the council filed out, the bishop ushered both Algersons into the royal chamber. For all its grand name, the room was in fact no more than an alcove partitioned off from the rest of the hall and sparsely furnished by a table cluttered with papers and several chairs.
William rose as they entered and came forward to meet them. He was little changed from the man Roanna remembered. From their mother, he and Odo had inherited certain shared characteristics. Both had straight black hair and penetrating onyx eyes, and both were tall, ruggedly built men with barrel chests and long, powerful arms and legs. But there the resemblance ended.
The bishop's blatantly sensual nature was in sharp contrast to his half-brother's marked self-restraint All William's considerable intellect and energy was poured into the single goal of attaining and keeping power. At thirty-nine, he had no time or thought for other pursuits, no matter how pleasant they might be. Not even his love for his wife, Matilda, who was in every sense his helpmate and confidante, was allowed to distract him from what he clearly regarded as his life's purpose.
In another man, such single-mindedness might have been distasteful. But in William it was balanced by innate charm that made even the most skeptical feel easier about him.
The smile he beamed at Roanna lacked the teasing lustfulness of his half-brother's welcome. Rather it was a genuine expression of warmth and pleasure that evoked an instant response in kind.
Sweeping him a graceful curtsey, she said softly, "It is good to see you again, my lord. My brother sends his greetings and hopes that all continues to go well with you."
William nodded kindly. On closer inspection, she could see new lines cut deeply into his tanned features and shadows beneath his eyes that bespoke too many nights with little sleep. But his voice was firm as he said, "It does, although I miss Guyon's help. Is he pleased with his new lands?"
"Very much, sire. Your generosity touched us deeply."
"Not at all," the King protested. "All that your brother received was more than deserved. But now, let us speak of you. What's this about you marrying?" His gaze slipped to Colin as Odo stepped forward to make the introductions.
"Algerson . . ." William murmured thoughtfully after a moment. "That name is familiar."
"I do not doubt it, my lord," Colin said quietly, "since not too long ago you awarded my lands to another man."
The King's eyebrows arched in a mannerism he shared with his half-brother, but which on him looked less benign. Though he was several inches shorter than Colin and not as powerfully built, he exuded no less a sense of authority and confidence Coldly, he demanded, "Indeed, and have you come to ask me to rescind that decision?"
"Not precisely. I have come to tell you that the man you sent is dead. DeBourgnon perished at my hand, as will anyone else who attempts to take what is mine Therefore, in the interest of preventing further bloodshed, I ask you to simply confirm my right to the lands so that my people may live in peace with yours."
Roanna held her breath, afraid that William would not take this advice well. Certainly he could not be ac
customed to an Anglo-Saxon warlord flatly telling him what he should or should not do. But the King surprised her. He appeared at least willing to listen to what Colin had to suggest The glance he shot at Odo indicated his wish to be alone with his unexpected guest
"Come along, my dear," the bishop said, taking her arm. "I'll fill you in on all the latest gossip and you can tell me how that exquisite sister-in-law of yours is doing."
Resignedly, Roanna allowed herself to be led away. She understood that her husband and William had to speak privately, but that didn't stop her from worrying about what would be said. The reassuring smile Colin gave her only slightly eased her concern. She gave scant attention to the bishop's chatter as he guided her back into the antechamber.
With rare sensitivity, Odo quickly gave up the effort to distract her from her concern. When she was settled on a bench along one side of the room, he discreetly took his leave. She was left to gaze at the curtained partition concealing the royal chamber and wonder anxiously what was being decided within.
The slender, pale-skinned young man who appeared at her side had to cough several times before she noticed him. When she at last looked up, he smiled shyly.
"Hello, Roanna. It's been a long time. How have you been?"
Much of the tension fled from her delicate features, to be replaced by genuine pleasure. "Robert! It is you. I wasn't sure for a moment You look so... impressive. . . ."
A boyish grin wreathed his long, narrow face as he glanced down at the richly made tunic, chain mail, and sword that had sparked her comment Teasingly, he said, "Why, thank you! I can remember a time when you thought me quite the opposite."
Flushing slightly, Roanna made room for him on the bench. Gently, she insisted, "I always found you a valued friend, Robert If I ever gave you any other impression, I am sorry."
Light blue eyes softened as he gazed at her, missing nothing of her radiant beauty or of the faint hint of tension evident in the set of her firm chin and the slight stiffness of her shoulders. "No, you never did. It was just that I wanted more." There was no rancor in his tone as he added, "At any rate, you are right about my looking different I suppose the last few months have changed me quite a bit"
"Have you been here all that time?" Roanna asked, anxious to steer the conversation away from talk of the past.
Robert nodded. "I came in October with the Duke, I mean, the King. My father secured a place for me in the army, although at the time I don't imagine anyone thought I could be much use." His thin, sensitive mouth curved in a self-deprecating grin. "As you may remember, I was never all that good at fighting."
That was true. When she had last seen him in Normandy the year before, Robert d'Almaric was still conscientiously plugging away at his martial training, without much success. His lanky build and poor coordination worked against him, but more serious man either was his lack of aggressiveness. Robert never experienced the fierce blood lust that propelled his kinsmen into battle. His patient, reasonable nature predisposed him to far more peaceful pursuits. By the time he reached his eighteenth year, he was almost the despair of his warlord father, who could scarcely believe he had sired so unsuitable an heir.
Not until Robert suddenly, and from Roanna's point of view quite unexpectedly, asked for her hand in marriage did his father come round to thinking there might be some hope for the boy after all. If he had the sense to go after one of the most beddable girls at court, and an heiress to boot, perhaps he wasn't completely lacking in manly instincts.
To Roanna, the proposal was so unwelcome as to be almost a betrayal. She and Robert were friends. They shared many of the same interests and enjoyed each other's company, but never for an instant did he make her feel the slightest desire to be his wife.
Fortunately, Guyon understood her dismay. He had gently turned aside the proposal, but not even his considerable tact was enough to spare Robert from hurt He left court for his father's estates, and Roanna did not see him again until he suddenly appeared at her side in the King's antechamber.
"You were good at many other things," she reminded him gently.
Robert's mouth tightened. "Perhaps, but they didn't count for much. I finally came round to accepting the fact that to get what he wants in life, a man has to be willing to fight for it."
Sadness darkened Roanna's eyes as she recognized the harshness in him that had never before been present. Whatever part she had played in bringing that about, she regretted it deeply. Meeting his gaze, she asked, "And have you gotten what you want?"
Robert glanced away, still more self-conscious around her than he liked to admit "Some of it. I fought well at Hastings. William recognized that by granting me an estate. It isn't large, but it's enough to start. I'm no longer dependent on my father's wealth, although now he's willing to give me anything since I convinced him I'm really a man."
"You were always a man, Robert. There was never any doubt about that"
Slender shoulders shrugged dismissively. "Maybe not, but I prefer things the way they are now." Hesitating a moment, he added, "That's enough about me. What brings you here? I heard you were. . . married. . . ."
Roanna nodded. "I am here with my husband. He has come to speak with the King."
"Do I know him?"
"I doubt it. His name is Colin Algerson."
Robert's eyes widened. He could not quite hide his shock. "An Anglo-Saxon? What was your brother thinking of to allow such a union?"
Not even the memory of their friendship would cause Roanna to tolerate such prejudgment of her marriage. Stiffly, she said, "He was thinking of my happiness."
"Oh . . . well... I suppose if Guyon gave his approval, there must have been some good reason. It's just that. . ."
Turning to face her, he suddenly took her hand in his. "I'm still very fond of you, Roanna. You must know that"
Uncomfortable with his touch but not eager to cause a scene, she let her hand stay in his as she said, "We have been friends for a long time. I hope we can remain so."
This was not precisely what Robert wanted to hear, but before he could press her they were interrupted by a low, feral drawl. "Very touching. I hope I haven't arrived at an inconvenient moment?"
Colin loomed over them. To the casual observer he looked perfectly calm and unruffled. But to Roanna who knew him far too well to be fooled, the coldness of his slate gray eyes, the hard line of his mouth, and the jagged pulse beating in the corded column of his throat were eloquent warnings of barely contained rage.
Hastily, she said, "May I present Sir Robert d'Almaric, an old friend of mine from the court in Normandy. My husband, Colin Algerson."
Robert stood up quickly, not sure precisely what it was about the other man that disconcerted him, but fully aware that despite his newly proven skills it was still the height of foolishness to provoke anyone so large and brutal-looking. Bowing stiffly, he muttered, "My congratulations on your marriage, sir. You are most fortunate."
Colin smiled humorlessly. "How kind of you to say so. I'm sure my wife wants all her . . . friends ... to approve her marriage."
Roanna flushed at his emphasis, but kept prudently silent. This was not the place to try to convince him that any hopes Robert harbored toward her were completely unwarranted. Nor did she consider it fair that she might have to do so. After all, Colin had all but ignored her for days, making it clear that his brief infatuation with her body was over and that he had no further use for her. What right then did he have to deny her the admiration of another man?
Robert glanced at her worriedly as it dawned on him that he might have caused some problem for her. The thought of Roanna having to face the anger of so formidable a husband filled him with dread. But before he could make any effort to defuse it, Colin took charge of the situation.
Grasping Roanna's arm, her lord informed her, "I will be here for some time yet meeting with William. The escort will take you home." Nodding dismissively at Robert, he firmly propelled his wife out of the room and downstairs to where their guar
d waited.
Acutely aware of the curious stares they were provoking from the other nobles, she had no choice but to go with him quietly. But the angry glints in her tawny eyes warned that she considered the matter far from settled.
Snatching her arm from him, she lifted herself smoothly into the saddle and seized the reins of her palfrey from the page who held them. Refusing to look at Colin, she nudged the horse forward determinedly.
The clatter of hooves drowned out a low sigh that might have been her name muttered by a frustrated, worried man.
Lady Margaret greeted Roanna upon her return, but the older woman quickly guessed her young friend was in no mood for company. She watched her go upstairs worriedly, wishing there was something she could do to help but knowing that matters of the heart had to be resolved alone. Nonetheless, when Roanna did not appear in the hall for supper that evening, it was Lady Margaret who sent a tray up to her and dropped by her room later to make sure she had eaten.
Roanna greatly appreciated her concern, but she could not speak of her feelings to anyone. Nor could she sleep. Far into the night she lay awake thinking over what she would say to her arrogant, overbearing husband when he at last returned.
But by morning there was still no sign of Colin, and Roanna's anger had long since turned to desperation.
Chapter 13
"I'm sure there is nothing to be worried about, my lady," Alaric soothed. "Lord Colin had a great deal of business to take care of at Court If he was delayed very long, he'd most likely just decide to stay over."
Eyeing his young mistress compassionately, the housecarl added, "I warrant he'll be home any minute." Privately, he was not so certain. While it was true that the previous night had been moonless, and therefore so dark as to make even a short journey almost impossible, it was also strange behavior for any new husband to dally so late as to be prevented from returning to his bride.
