“But how did they set the hall ablaze?” Jobert asked. “That is too far to shoot a flaming arrow.”
“No one knows,” the guard answered. “One of them must have gotten inside and done the deed under our very noses.”
“And the men set to guard the gate?” Jobert’s voice was tight with anger.
“Drunk. They did not know anything was amiss until the alarm was raised.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Edeva asked.
The guard shook his head. “A few burned hands and singed beards, but nothing like the kitchen fire.”
Jobert dismounted. As he helped Edeva down, she saw that his face was white with rage. “And the rebels?” he addressed the guard, “Did you say they were captured?”
“Yea, although that was afterwards. The priest suggested that he speak to the prisoners in the granary. When he returned, he told us to saddle our horses, and he would lead us to the rebels, And, by the Rood, he did. Surprised them during a meal, and we had them surrounded before they could flee. One of them grabbed a knife and was cut down. We took the other seven prisoners.”
Seven! Was that all that was left of her brothers’ forces? And what of the man who was killed? Had it been Godric or Beornwold engaging in one last foolish, defiant act?
Although she knew it was witless after all the terrible things they had done, Edeva paled at the thought of her brothers being hung.
“Where are they?” Jobert asked.
“In the souterrain, my lord. I did not think you would give a care for their comfort.”
The other guards and the knights who traveled to London had gathered round. “What are you going to do, Brevrienne?” Hamo asked. “Hang them at first light?”
Jobert did not answer, but his jaw worked and his eyes were like shards of green glass. He said, “I want the men who were on duty the night of the fire brought to me.”
Payne and Osbert nodded, looking grim. As they turned to head toward the hall, Jobert added, “And the woman named Golde. Last time my guards overindulged, she was the cause of it.”
Edeva waited tensely. She wanted to ask Jobert how he meant to deal with her brothers, but she feared what his answer would be. She also feared he would hang Alnoth and Withan along with the others.
“My lord?” She moved close to Jobert and spoke softly. ”Alnoth and Withan aided your men. I pray you don’t forget that. Please consider what you once said, that if they would swear to you...”
“Do you think I would trust men who turned on their own? You misunderstand the thing, woman. I have no interest in the oaths of traitors.”
Jobert turned on his heel and stalked off. Edeva stared after him. The warm glow of their passion seemed to have turned to ice. The man who had teased and enticed her in London, who had begged the king to be allowed to wed her, was now a stranger.
Heart heavy, she walked toward the hall, wondering what other losses she would discover.
* * *
The wind blew raw, threatening to tear off Edeva’s head-wrap. She shivered even in her heavy woolen mantle, and her sympathy was aroused even more for the two knights, stripped to their hose and tied to a pole, stoically awaiting the lash of the whip.
Her feelings regarding Golde’s punishment were more complicated. Jobert had not ordered the woman stripped, but unless the brawny man chosen to do the flogging administered only the lightest of strokes, Edeva knew the serving woman’s woolen gunna would soon be shredded and her bare skin exposed.
Mayhaps the man would succumb to her beauty and give her only a perfunctory whipping. Edeva was surprised to find that a part of her hoped that he would go easy with Golde. She might be a treacherous, untrustworthy bitch, but a public flogging was humiliating enough, without also scarring the woman permanently.
The man raised the hazel switch over the first man’s shoulders. Edeva turned away before the blow fell and began to walk toward the granary. Her eyes filled with tears as she walked, and not all of it because of the bitterly cold wind. Her insides ached, twisting with anxiety.
She could not blame Jobert for his anger. Oxbury could have been destroyed. The hall was badly damaged by smoke, and the bedding and wall hangings in the upper bedchamber ruined. The clothes and other valuables in the chests remained safe, but only by a near miracle. If not for Edwina’s quick-wittedness, lives would have been lost and they might well be facing famine before spring. Oxbury had survived a near catastrophe, a catastrophe her brothers were responsible for.
They must be punished she knew that. And yet...
Could she ever feel the same way about Jobert, knowing he had ordered her brothers’ deaths? And what of Alnoth and Withan? It seemed unfair that they should have to pay for something they had no part in, especially when they had helped the Normans by revealing the rebels’ hiding place.
Which one of them had divulged the location of the camp in the forest? She would like to think it had been Withan, and that she could go to Jobert and claim that Alnoth had no part in the betrayal. But in her heart, she knew that was unlikely. Alnoth was young, vulnerable and frightened. He must have been the one who told the priest where to find the others.
Edeva stopped walking suddenly. Father Reibald did not speak Saxon, so how had he spoken to the prisoners? Had he taken someone else with him?
Edeva again started toward the granary.
The man guarding the place frowned at her when she asked to see the prisoners. “My lady, you know I should get the lord’s permission.”
“Of a certes,” she said, “but he is busy seeing to the disciplining of his men. Would you bother him now and risk his wrath?”
The man hesitated, and then moved to unbar the door. “I will let you see them, but for a moment only.”
“Thank you, Baldric.” Edeva bestowed a warm smile on the man. He held the door open and she went in.
In the light from the doorway, she could make out her brother and Withan, sitting in the straw. Their hands were tied, but they wore no shackles, and she could see that they had blankets for warmth and bundles of hay to rest on.
“Alnoth.” Edeva approached her brother, resisting the impulse to hug him. “How fare you?”
He stood to greet her “Well enough. We have been treated tolerably since your last visit.”
“Why did you betray the others, then? Did you hope to save your own skins?” Edeva winced as words came out more sharply than she intended.
Alnoth blinked at her. “Betray the others? What do you mean?”
“Didn’t a priest come to see you and ask you where the rebel camp was?”
“A priest came, aye, but the woman with him told us he meant to bless us. We thought certain that we were to be executed after that, but nothing happened.”
“The woman?”
“Aye, I do not know her name, but she is one of the serving women.”
“Golde.” Withan spoke up. “’Twas the one called Golde.”
Edeva took a deep breath as pieces suddenly fell into place. Golde, the treacherous bitch, had betrayed her Saxon lover as well as her Norman ones. Mayhaps she was getting what she deserved, after all. “Did you speak of the rebels with anyone?”
Both Alnoth and Withan shook their heads.
Edeva’s hope returned. She might still be able to sway Jobert to spare them.
A1noth moved nearer. “What’s happened, Edeva? Several days ago, we heard shouting, a loud commotion, and smelled smoke. Did Beornwold and Godric attack? Have they been captured?”
Edeva nodded.
“Will Brevrienne hang them?”
Again, Edeva nodded. Her insides ached.
“What of me?” Alnoth demanded. “I said I would swear to him!”
“I don’t know, Alnoth,” she said gently. “He is very angry.”
“But you can convince him, I know it,” Alnoth’s voice cracked with anxiety. “He desires you, Edeva. You can use his lust to convince him to let us live!”
“I will try, Alnoth. I will do my best.”
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Alnoth straightened, as if suddenly realizing how craven and weak he sounded. “If he does not change his mind, I promise I won’t shame you. I will face death bravely.”
“I know you will.” Edeva embraced him, the lump in her throat near choking her.
She heard the guard behind her clear his throat. She released Alnoth and bid him farewell.
Walking, back to the yard, she struggled to sort out her troubling emotions. She understood why Jobert thought he must order her brothers’ deaths. But that did not change the bitterness that welled up inside her when she contemplated the execution of her kin. Could they ever overcome this?
Once, Jobert had been her enemy, the demon of her nightmares. Despite that she had come to desire him, to care for him, and finally, to love him.
Now, it seemed she must lose that, the promise of their loveplay and teasing banter turning to ashes before the brutal realities of war.
When she reached the yard, the floggings were almost finished. The men were being untied, and Edeva guessed that Jobert would have them taken to the hall and their wounds treated.
Golde was still bound, the lash falling across her slender back. Edeva heard the crude calls of the men each time a blow landed. “Strip her! Let us see her tits!”
She grimaced, wondering how anyone could find a beating arousing. It sickened her to see the crimson streaks etching Golde’s milky skin, even knowing what the woman had done.
She had betrayed one of her lovers, and now he would hang.
Edeva turned away. She could not stand to watch. Golde’s suffering would not make any difference.
“Enough!” Behind her, Jobert called out to, the man doing the whipping. “Set her free.”
She heard some of the men grumbling among themselves. “He scarcely broke the skin... give her to me, I’ll punish her!” Harsh laughter sounded.
Edeva turned around. A man was helping Golde walk, but she did not look cowed or humiliated. Indeed, her face still wore that smug expression that Edeva despised. As she walked past the jeering men, Golde straightened, and her hips swayed with a characteristically seductive movement.
Edeva decided that she would have to think on a better punishment for Golde than flogging. Mayhaps something tedious and disgusting, something that kept her away from the men.
But her plight had moved Jobert to, pity. If he spared Golde, he might also consider giving Alnoth another chance. Especially if he knew Alnoth had not been the one to give away the rebels’ camp.
Edeva started toward Jobert. He met her gaze coldly. “My lord, if I could speak with you.”
“Not now, Edeva,” he gritted out. “I have things to see to.” He jerked around and walked away.
Edeva’s heart sank. She started back to the hall, contemplating the future. When Jobert reported to the king that he had hung the rebels and regained control of Oxbury William might well give him permission to wed her.
Did she want to wed a man responsible for destroying what family she had remaining? Could they go on with that between them, and somehow rebuild the trust, the tender intimacy and playfulness?
The hall was in chaos. Old wall hangings had been nailed up over the burned wall, and the household activities moved to another area. Weavers crowded in one corner, the infirmary in the other. Edeva spied Wulfget and went to her. “How fare Rob and Niles?” she asked.
“Niles has been up and about for days. And Rob, even he sometimes goes into the yard for some fresh air.”
Edeva wrinkled her nose. The place did reek of fire. “I am pleased they have healed so well,” she told Wulfget. “And I thank you for your part in it.”
Wulfget blushed. “’Twas not unpleasant. I have learned much Norman French, and Rob knows a few Saxon words.”
Edeva regarded the young woman carefully. “And what of Sir Alan?”
Consternation creased Wulfget’s pale brow. “He still comes to talk to me in the evenings. But he is always so angry. He frightens me.”
“And Rob is gentle and quiet?”
Wulfget nodded.
Edeva excused herself from the young woman and went to check on the weavers. As she crossed the hall, she wondered which knight Wulfget favored. If it were her, she knew she would much prefer Rob’s boyish charm over Fornay’s scowling manner.
Nay, that was not true. Only one man could hold her heart.
Or break it beyond repair.
* * *
“Where do you go?”
Jobert kept walking toward the gate. He had no desire to speak to Alan, to have him demand to know when the hangings would take place.
Fornay rushed up beside him. “Have you ordered the carpenter to build a scaffolding?”
“I need to be alone for a time. I am leaving the palisade.”
“Let me accompany you. Although we’ve captured the rebels, you can’t be certain of the loyalties of the villagers. A lone man makes an easy target.”
Alan’s words sent a shiver down Jobert’s spine. He did not fear the villagers, but he might be in danger from another enemy. “I’ll wear my helmet and hauberk, but I go alone.”
“Let me arm you.”
Jobert grunted his assent and headed for the stables where his armor had been stored after the trip to London. He would ride. Being mounted would give him another advantage over an assassin.
Alan walked beside him but said nothing more. Jobert guessed that his captain realized he could only press so far.
When silence grew uncomfortable, Jobert said, “How are things between you and Wulfget?”
Alan swore. “You suggested I court her. Jesu, how am I to do that in a crowded hall with that puffed-up toad of a knight Rob looking on?”
“Have you ever asked her to walk with you in the yard?”
“She never seems interested. She is uneasy around me now, and it is all that preening bastard’s fault! They have been learning each other’s languages, and you know what they speak? Poetry!” Alan made a sound of disgust.
They reached the stables and went to the anteroom where the armor was hung. Jobert took down his heavy hauberk and had Alan hold it while he put his gambeson on underneath. “So, are you giving up, then?”
“Of course not. She is the only woman at Oxbury I desire. I know it makes me sound foolish, but there is something about the way she smiles...” He shook his head. “God’s blood, look at me, I sound as henwitted as Rob.”
Jobert’s mouth quirked with amusement at seeing gruff, grouchy Alan so smitten. “Rob will be well soon and no longer so much in Wulfget’s company. You can resume your suit. Now that Wulfget knows some Norman French it will be easier to speak to her.”
“But what should I do if I get her alone?” Alan asked helplessly. “What should I say?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I long to kiss her, to hold her in my arms. But what woman will be captivated by that?”
A woman who truly cares for you, Jobert thought. A woman who loves you for yourself and not fancy words or deeds.
They spoke no more of women as Alan helped him put on his mail and helmet. A squire saddled his horse and Jobert rode through the yard and out the gate. A gust of bitter wind struck the exposed part of his face as Jobert urged the horse into a trot down the hill to the shelter of the valley below.
TWENTY-TWO
The gray sky sulked above him, threatening rain. Jobert shivered in his armor and wished he had worn an extra tunic underneath. Foolish to ride out decked like a soldier for battle. The valley was peaceful enough.
Smoke rose from the village huts, and outside one of them, a woman shook out a cloth, the russet-colored fabric billowing in the breeze. She nodded to him as he rode by, and the child clutching at her skirts raised his chubby hand and pointed at Jobert, eyes wide with curiosity.
Jobert thought how much things had changed since he came to Oxbury. Once the sight of him in his battle attire would have struck terror in the hearts of the villagers. The woman would either have dragged
the boy inside the hut or fled to the woods.
Now the people of Oxbury accepted and depended on him. If a crisis arose, someone would come running to the palisade, begging for help. They had learned he was a fair master, that he cared for their welfare and valued their labor.
Jobert knew that many lords weren’t like him. They were cruel and harsh, squeezing all they could from their workers without thought for their well-being. But he could not see the profit in it. If a man starved and abused his people, they would grow weak and sick and less useful. Their children would die of hunger or illness. In a few years, there would be a lack of laborers to tend the lands.
Besides, he misliked causing suffering. Being a younger son who was passed over for nearly everything, he could more easily imagine what it was like to be poor and powerless. And, after spending weeks in the horror of Valois’s prison, where the only face he saw was that of his gaoler—a frail, bent old man who showed him kindness—he could not look at anyone, even the lowliest serf, and not see a man rather than a brute to be used and discarded.
But his soft heart threatened his ambitions. King William thought him weak, unable to hold Oxbury. Somehow, he must prove him wrong. And the most obvious way was to execute every one of the rebels.
Jobert grimaced as he imagined three men bearing Edeva’s blue eyes and proud features dying by his decree. He thought of her tender gaze growing hard with bitterness. A shudder went through him. Though he might get to keep his lands and his heiress, at what a price? Was Oxbury worth enduring a cold woman in his bed the rest of his life?
Jesu, better to send Edeva to Matilda and wed some other woman! But how could he do that? Edeva was Oxbury. Having her golden beauty at his side was part of his dream. He needed her, not merely to be his chatelaine, his advocate with her people, but in his heart, in his bed, loving him, desiring him, sharing her life with him.
But somehow he must prove to William that he had defeated the rebels and gained complete control of Oxbury. That the last vestiges of insurrection had been wiped out. Meanwhile, Valois worked against him, seeking to convince the king he was unfit to be a lord.
The Conqueror (Hot Knights) Page 27
