Читать книгу The Maiden And The Warrior - Jacqueline Navin - Страница 11

It was much later when Alayna entered the infirmary, her mind filled with plans for the trunks stuffed with Edgar’s clothing, which now resided in her chamber. Her good mood did not last long.

Many of the men who had suffered serious injury in battle were now succumbing to the inevitability of their wounds. The place held the specter of death like a thick, pervasive stench. She moved about from one bedside to the next, feeling a numb horror at the sight of the dying, her high spirits now gone.

Eurice came to her side. “You look ill, Alayna.”

Alayna sighed. “Not ill. I have been manipulated by Edgar and am now harassed by de Montregnier. Yet I stand here and see this carnage and realize that my problems are trivial compared to all of this death.”

Eurice looked to the fallen men lying on their pallets. “Men make war, Alayna. ’Tis their way. They took their oaths to serve the Baron of Gastonbury, as their fathers did before them to all of the barons through the years, some good, some bad.”

“Edgar was a wicked, evil man.” Alayna shivered. “And I fear his successor is not much better.”

Eurice raised her brow. “He seems fitting. Everyone is speaking of him, and not much bad. There is hope he might prove worthy. He gave a free and fair choice to enter into service, one he did not have to give.”

“He gave nothing,” Alayna snapped. “That speech was simply a pretty package for his ultimate insinuation into the barony. De Montregnier knows if he has the support of the vassals, Henry is unlikely to depose him. For the sake of peace and to preserve his own seat of power, the king will approve of the man who has the loyalty of the people. Tell me, did anyone decline his gracious invitation?”

Eurice shook her head. “Nary a one.”

“Of course, who would? Why these poor folk would follow the devil incarnate after Edgar.”

Eurice made a sign of the cross against the mention of the Dark One. Alayna smiled at her nurse’s superstition.

“Eurice, I have found several trunks in Edgar’s room. They contain an array of finery such as you have never seen. The extravagance is sinful, and it put me in mind of the need we saw in the village.”

“Those poor wretches—” Eurice nodded “—what have they to do with Edgar’s clothes?”

“He laid waste the countryside to fill his stores with food and wine, this castle with riches, those trunks with expensive garments and God knows what other extravagances. We must right that. Taking this treasure and redistributing it to the common folk might give some meaning to all that has befallen to me.”

“Nay! It is thievery to take those things,” Eurice wailed. “They belong to the new lord now. He can have you swing from the gibbet for stealing.”

Alayna smiled wickedly, savoring de Montregnier’s anger should he ever learn of her scheme. “He will not kill me, though it would vex him sorely if he knew of my ambitions.”

“Please have sense,” Eurice continued, shaking her head in disapproval. “You were always headstrong, but now you must learn patience, discernment…”

“He is not going to release me, Eurice, he has made that quite clear. He thinks me a possession of Edgar’s and therefore forfeit to him. He said he will not let me go until he is sure I can no longer be of use to him. Who knows how long that will be? I will not let him get away with it, not without making him regret it.”

Eurice looked at Alayna aghast. Understanding dawned on her face. “You plot to steal Edgar’s trunks to thwart this de Montregnier! ‘Give some meaning to all that has befallen me.’ Listen to you! You think to take revenge against him with this childishness.”

“I am going to do it,” Alayna said, her voice steady with determination.

A low groan diverted the women’s attention. Seeing it was one of the wounded men, Alayna quickly abandoned their quarrel and rushed to his bedside.

She remembered him from yesterday when he was brought in. An older man, perhaps too old to fight, who had been conscripted by an unmerciful master. There had been some hope he would survive if his blood loss was not too great, but his health waned and now he was close to death. Pale and faltering, he was making a great effort to speak. “A priest,” the man begged in a thin voice.

Alayna realized that he was requesting last rites to ease his passage into heaven. “My God, Eurice, he seeks absolution!” she gasped. “He wants a priest. Fetch one, quickly!”

“There is no one here,” Eurice whispered. Alayna stared at her disbelievingly.

“What do you mean we have no priests? We have men dying here, honorable men who deserve extreme unction to be absolved of their sins.”

“The bishop commanded his priests to the abbey and Lord Lucien had no choice but to let them go. There are no longer any priests here.”

“A friar, then.”

“Alayna, there is no one!”

“He is dying,” Alayna fretted. “He should be comforted.” She looked down at the man. The poor soldier was in and out of awareness, barely coherent, muttering for forgiveness. She could not stand to see his agony. With a quick prayer for her soul for the blasphemy she was about to commit, she lowered her voice and murmured some Latin blessings she had memorized from daily mass.

Eurice stood in mute horror of the sacrilege she was witnessing but made no protest.

The mumbled words apparently convinced the man his request had been fulfilled. He reached out for Alayna’s hand, crushing her fingers in his gnarled grasp. She did not let go even when the pain stabbed up her arm. His grip weakened and his face relaxed until he was at peace.

She sat in silent tableau with the man she had not known in life yet companioned in death, when a shadow fell across the bed. She looked up to see de Montregnier standing over her, flanked by two of his knights, Will and a youth whose name, she had learned, was Pelly.

Lucien stood with his feet braced apart and arms folded over his chest, wearing the same smug look he had favored earlier. That, and her own unexplainable visceral response to his presence, made her suddenly angry.

“Come to view your handiwork, have you, good knights?” she snapped.

“Alayna!” Eurice gasped in reproach. Lucien did not seem to take offense.

“Was this one known to you?” he asked quietly.

“‘This one’ has a name, though it is not known to me. My introduction to him was made after he had been mortally wounded by one of your men. Perhaps it was even yourself that felled him, my lord, for you surely did your share of the killing. In your enthusiasm for revenge against Edgar, you neglected to consider the faithful villeins who were bound to serve their lord and defend the castle. Good people, whose fault lay only in that they were required to serve your enemy.”

Lucien gave her a hard stare. “I sought to minimize such tragedy. It is why I offered the challenge to Edgar to meet me face-to-face.” His men gaped at him, apparently astounded that he had offered this. He usually explained himself to no one.

“Aye, after you slaughtered his fighting men!” Alayna accused.

“You have a quick tongue and a shrewish way,” Lucien snarled.

Alayna narrowed her eyes. “Did you come here to gloat over your victory or disparage me? It poorly speaks of your character either way.”

“I need make no explanation to you for being here. This is my castle, and this is my chapel. And these are my villeins.”

“Chapel?” Alayna mocked. “I think not, for chapels are made of prayers and alters, are they not? This place has none of that, for it is full of broken men and thin pallets made quickly with the haste of need. The stench of death fairly chokes you when you enter, instead of the sweet smell of incense and candles. A chapel, you say? Nay, ’tis a place of despair.”

“Well, it makes no difference either way, does it?” Lucien’s eyes glared. “’Tis mine! Need I remind you at every turn that I am now the lord and master here?”

“’Tis a grand testament to your prowess as a warrior that you see spread before you, but it does you little credit as our new lord and protector. ‘Twas a deplorable performance in lordly protection you showed us yestermorn.”

Lifting a dark brow, Lucien eyed her sardonically. “This day has seen many noteworthy events, not the least of which seems to be this—a woman is making complaint about my ‘performance.’”

Alayna colored at his innuendo and Will snorted momentarily before bringing himself under control. He was sobered by Alayna’s indignant look. He smiled apologetically, but she only notched her chin higher.

She was angry enough to be reckless, yet she realized the hopelessness of arguing. She could never outmatch de Montregnier, for he would say the most out-rageous things to shock and offend. With a sigh, she said, “Your rude comments are not necessary, my lord. I did not wish to antagonize you, though I find that, indeed, I seem to do so without much effort.” She looked at the men lying in their humble beds, shaking her head distractedly. “Perhaps I have been a bit too vehement, but tending the fallen is not an easy duty. It grates on one as much as the loss of precious freedom.”

Lucien eyed her carefully, clearly suspicious this sudden penitence might not be entirely sincere. When nothing else followed that last comment, he turned away, dismissing her apology without comment.

He spoke loudly in the vaulted chamber. “Those of you who were not in the bailey this morning, hear me.” He repeated his offer of pardon in exchange for their pledge to honor him as their new lord. The terms were the same as before.

No one said a word. Alayna was silently glad, thinking that these men, embittered by their injuries and the death of their comrades, would refuse. At last, to see de Montregnier thwarted!

Then, unexpectedly, a murmur rose up as Hubert, a castellan of Gastonbury who was a good and noble man, rose slowly from his pallet. His wife, the Lady Mellyssand, caught Alayna’s eye. Mellyssand had been the only person at Gastonbury who had befriended her, offering Alayna comfort when she was forced to marry Edgar. In the absence of Alayna’s mother, Mellyssand had counseled her on what to expect in the marriage bed. Further, Alayna suspected Hubert had been largely to blame for Edgar’s inability to consummate their marriage, for it had been the kind man’s voice she had heard raising toast after toast to his newly wedded overlord.

Hubert limped to stand before de Montregnier. The room hushed. Hubert spoke. “Aye, I will accept you as my liege lord. And if the king’s justice finds your claim false, I will commit my armies to serve any challenge you wish to make to that decision.”

De Montregnier remained outwardly impassive, but after a moment’s hesitation, or what could have been shock, he reached out a hand to firmly grasp Hubert’s forearm in the gesture that men-at-arms shared as a sign of truce.

“I knew your father, Raoul,” Hubert said. “He was friend to my own sire. He was a man of honor, a man who was admired. I had recognized your name, but I have been racking my poor brain these last hours to place your face, for you appeared familiar to me. At last I seem to have come up with some recollection. You were a lad, I remember, who was already showing remarkable skill with the sword. I recall your father’s pride in you, and a bit of jealousy myself, for though I was older, I was not sure I was your better.”

Lucien accepted this stoically, nodding. Hubert moved aside, calling the others to come forward.

When he had finished his business, Lucien came again to stand before Alayna. He raised his brows at her expectantly, as if to say what do you think of that?

“I see it pleases you to have your plan working so well,” Alayna said.

“I am pleased. I have everything that I want.”

“My mother taught me a bit of ancient wisdom,” Alayna said lightly, “It teaches us the lesson that we must be careful what we wish for. We might just get it.”

He nodded to her as if he understood, but Alayna did not know if he truly fathomed her meaning.