A Silver Mirror Page 36

  “No war,” Alphonse said, taking the few strides that brought him beside her. “I thought I would find you abed already. I saw Clotilde go down.”

  “Are you taking sides with my father’s enemies?” she asked, suddenly startled and fearful of a problem she had not considered.

  “I am taking sides with no one.” His mouth was stiff, his throat worked as the words came through. “Never mind that now. I will tell you later. I have held off long enough. I am dying for you.”

  The passion that had earlier dried up in the heat of rage burst into flame like oiled tinder at the spark of his words. Barbara’s reaction was so strong that she drew in a sharp breath and took half a step backward, one hand coming up. Later she realized he might have feared that hand was to ward him off, for he seized it and pulled her hard against him, kissing her so fiercely that she could not have protested had she been cold with revulsion. As it was, all sense but that of pleasure was swept away. Caution and self-awareness were lost in eagerness, and she allowed her husband to strip off her clothing and helped him strip off his without pretending reluctance.

  Both were too eager for lingering love play. He had barely entered when she began to writhe in fulfillment and he, who had watched so many women naked in their joy and held back his own to bring a second and even third renewal to his partner, became entangled and fell with her into that red pit of pleasure. Enchanted by the raw pulse of natural, uncalculated release, he murmured her name—only that, over and over.

  That touched her in a way that love words would not, and she did not withdraw herself but lay quietly beside him, letting her hand rest in his. She had forgotten the danger in that gentle after-love communion. Having begun, she craved, as much as she craved the wilder pleasure of coupling, to offer up everything.

  Soft words rose to her lips. She closed her teeth over them and said instead, “A troop came with Hamo, and they were waiting in Tewkesbury, likely for Tybetot and his men, who came from the north I think, because of what the porter of Pershore Abbey said, Tybetot came from Mortimer’s keep in Wigmore. And Hamo said they would meet another troop near Bath. You said there will be no war. But how can you be sure the Welsh Marchers do not plan to start the war anew now they know Louis will not support the peace?”

  Alphonse groaned. “Did I not sacrifice myself on the altar of duty? Instead of coming to you at once, did I not sit there listening while those silly young men talked? Did I not even deny myself the pleasure of looking at you during the evening meal for fear your father’s relationship to Leicester would stop their tongues?”

  “Do not dare to talk to me of your sacrifice.” Barbara laughed and sat up. “You may have had a conflict between your lust and your curiosity for the length of a heartbeat, but I know which is stronger in us both. Lust can be wakened and contented any time, but news…ah…a chance to hear news seldom comes twice. It is I who was the sacrifice,” Barbara sniffed melodramatically, “sent away to bite my nails while my curiosity ate me alive.”

  “I am glad you understood.” Alphonse smiled. “I was not sure the food and drink I chose so carefully would not come flying around my ears when I came up.”

  But Barbara did not smile back. “I understood and you knew I would. So do not talk about food flying. Satisfy my curiosity. Why are you so sure this gathering of men does not betoken a new attack on Leicester’s allies in this area?” Alphonse hesitated, looking troubled, and Barbara stiffened. “Did you think I would forget what I had seen and heard just because you futtered me?”

  “I have never known it to affect any woman’s memory,” Alphonse snapped back, then shrugged. “Barbe, you are your father’s daughter. If I tell you what I have learned and you get word to him, to my mind I will have violated a confidence, even if you do not think so.”

  “Is there danger to my father?” she asked. “Good God, Papa has not come to Strigul, has he?”

  “No, no. Not one word was said or hinted about your father. He has nothing to do with this at all.”

  “If there is no danger to Papa, I do not care what Hamo and his friends are doing. I am only curious.”

  There was no direct danger to Norfolk, Alphonse knew, but indirectly, if the Marcher lords’ plot was successful… Impossible, he thought, and said, “What you said about the gathering of troops is true, but what these idiots plan to do is free Prince Edward.”

  “Idiot is as idiot does,” Barbara said coldly. “But you are an idiot, not I, if you think you can convince me that Hamo is idiot enough to attack Dover, where Edward is now being held.”

  “He is not at Dover!” Alphonse snarled, loving and hating his Barbe. Most women could have been diverted by generalities at this point in the conversation, but not Barbe, who grasped immediately at practical matters. He would have to tell her what he had learned.

  “Since I could not ask questions without making Sir Hamo and Tybetot suspicious and silencing them completely,” he went on, “I could not learn everything, but it seems that Leicester is moving the prince to Wallingford.”

  “Wallingford Keep? To attack that is almost as hopeless as a march on Dover.”

  “Perhaps not. From what I have heard from Gloucester and others, the southeast is Leicester’s. All who supported the king in that part of the country were imprisoned or are in exile, their lands in the charge of Leicester or an ally. So, for Hamo and his friends to march an army, or even a large troop of men, across to Dover would be well-nigh impossible. But Hamo and Tybetot mentioned a keep called Marlborough, not more than a day’s ride from Wallingford, that is ruled by a castellan loyal to Robert Walerand—”

  “Walerand is King Henry’s man,” Barbara murmured. “He still holds Bristol Castle in Henry’s name. Leicester has not wasted his strength trying to attack Bristol or Marlborough, hoping such isolated royal strongpoints will come to terms without battle.” She frowned. “But Walerand is no wild boy. If he is behind this plan, it must be more possible than it appears to me.” She sighed and lay back again, unconsciously feeling for and taking Alphonse’s hand. “I do not know what I feel. It was terrible to see Edward caged, but if he is freed, he will begin the war again.”

  Alphonse’s hand lay unresponsive in hers. “I hope to God this Walerand will stop the plan,” he said. “They must not try to free Edward.”

  Barbara turned eagerly to him, raising his hand, clasped in hers, to her breast. She had been startled by the way his hand lay limp in hers. Now she thought it might be owing to his distress over the hopelessness of the Royalist cause.

  “Do you think all chance of opposing Leicester is ended?” she asked. “When we are in France again, will you try to convince Uncle Hugh of that? If—”

  “I know nothing of Leicester’s chance of holding his power.” Alphonse pulled his hand free and clenched it as he sat up. “What I do know is that an attack on the prince’s prison—no matter where—will provide his enemies with the best excuse in the world to kill Edward. Who could ever say whether he was killed trying to escape or was struck down by his own friends by mistake?”

  “No!”

  “You can cry out ‘no’ and I know that Leicester is an honorable man and would not give such an order in advance. Still, Leicester is not likely to be in Wallingford Keep to order or forbid, and in the heat and confusion of an attack lesser men might seize an opportunity. I fear the temptation to be rid of Edward, the one man who must be the hope and inspiration for all resistance, will be too great.”

  Barbara pushed herself up against the headboard. “I do not want the war to begin again, but neither do I want peace at the price of Edward’s life. What will you do, Alphonse?”

  “What can I do?” He stared at her and shook his head. “Do not you dare, Barbe! Do not you dare try to get word of this to your father, or Gloucester, or anyone. You promised not to do anything if your father was not directly threatened. Le Strange and Tybetot trusted me, and I listened to their plans apurpose.”

  “To save your honor you will let the pri
nce die?” Barbara whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

  Alphonse shook his head. “Thank God my decision does not need to rest on that point. Do you not see that more ill could come from Leicester knowing in advance of this attempt than of it simply happening? Edward has some freedom now, I have heard. If word of an attempt to free him comes, they will lock him up, perhaps in chains. You saw what he was like when we arrived in Canterbury. He might eat himself up and die of sickness, or he might become so twisted with hate… Barbe, think of that will of his all turned to hate and deception and then let loose on the realm.”

  “But that is the whole reason behind what Leicester has done,” she said faintly. “To ensure that no king’s weakness or wickedness should be visited on his country.”

  “Then it is better that Edward die.” Alphonse stared straight ahead to where coals glowed in the small hearth. “Because I know, and you know too, if you would let yourself know it, that there is no one strong enough to hold together Leicester’s government after he dies. Then if Edward is alive, he would be loosed.”

  Barbara shuddered. “I see that door is closed,” she said. “But you must at least point out to Hamo and Tybetot the danger that Edward’s current gaoler might be less scrupulous than Henry de Montfort. They may not have seen the danger of a deliberate ‘accident’ during an attack. Hamo is not a hothead. Perhaps you can convince him that the attempt to free him will do Edward harm. You are known to be the prince’s friend. Will Hamo not believe you have his interests at heart?”

  Alphonse sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I cannot seem to try to sow discord among Hamo’s party. If I speak at all, it must be openly, to the leader—Walerand, I suppose. But that will mean losing all chance of simply slipping away when we arrive in Bristol and finding a ship. Once I speak out against the plan to free Edward, I will become an ‘enemy’—unless they do give up the idea.”

  “Then we are going to Bristol, not Marlborough?” Barbara asked.

  “Yes, to Bristol, after we meet another party somewhere near Bath. Walerand is mustering the men in Bristol. When all are gathered, they will make night marches to Marlborough in small troops, enter Marlborough secretly, and launch the attack on Wallingford from there.”

  “We will be safe in Bristol,” Barbara said, then looked concerned and asked, “Do you have some pressing duties in France?” And when Alphonse shook his head, she went on, “Robert Walerand would never order harm done to you because you are Edward’s friend, and I have my own value as Norfolk’s daughter. The worst Walerand will do is hold us as we were held in Dover. I know you hated it, but—”

  “Goose,” Alphonse said softly, reaching for her and pulling her close, “I would not have minded at all if I could have lain abed with you each night in Dover as I will in Bristol.”

  She let him kiss her, the corners of her wide mouth lifting as she remembered his various attempts to get her alone when they were in Dover. Then she laughed and pushed him away. “Go mend the fire and bank it for the night.” She laughed again as he groaned but threw off the covers and went to the hearth. Her eyes rested on him while he added small logs and then larger ones, laid in a pattern that would collapse slowly, keeping the embers at its heart glowing throughout the night, but she did not really watch what he was doing.

  “I do not think Walerand will keep us long in any case,” she said as he turned to come back to bed. “If he listens to you, he will put us on the first ship for France—or Spain—as soon as possible to be rid of us and be sure we will speak to no one in England for some time. And even if he does not listen, would not sending us overseas as soon as the attempt to rescue Edward is launched be a good way to ensure our silence during the dangerous time and yet not enrage us?”

  “It would,” he agreed, innocent as an angel until he slid under the covers and threw himself suddenly atop her, pressing his chilled body to her warm one.

  Barbara struggled and protested, but strong though she was for a woman, she was at a total disadvantage, crushed under her husband’s considerable weight. He laughed at her gasps and complaints, arguing that she must pay her share for their future comfort, and slipping bit by bit from warming himself to warming her with caresses.

  They did not discuss the matter again that night, and Alphonse had joined the men below before Barbara woke. By the time she came down to break her fast with them, an unmistakable camaraderie was flowing from Hamo and Tybetot toward her husband. Barbara was not in the least surprised when Alphonse told her he had agreed to extend his parole against leaving the company until after he had spoken to Robert Walerand in Bristol.

  Some hours later, on the hills above the river between Bath and Bristol, Barbara was surprised and a little frightened when she saw the man Sir Hamo and Tybetot had come to meet. Without thought her hand tightened on Frivole’s rein, and the mare obediently backed. Bevis and Lewin closed in front of her, assuming from the action that Barbara was afraid to be seen. That was not true, certainly she had no personal fear of Roger Leybourne, Prince Edward’s former steward and friend. In fact, she liked what she knew of him and felt he had been a stabilizing influence on the wild prince in the past. But she also recalled the bitter quarrel between the prince and the man who had so long been his close friend and principal servant. She was aware that the quarrel had been patched over, but with how much sincerity on Leybourne’s side?

  Barbara thought the prince had been mostly in the wrong, had known it, and had been relieved to come to terms with his old friend. But Leybourne? Not only had he been persecuted and deprived of his lands and honors by the king, but hardly had partial and grudging amends been made when Leicester had won the battle of Lewes and canceled all the king’s favors. Might not Leybourne cherish a secret anger against the prince and king who had cost him so much?

  Barbara had no time to communicate her fears to her husband, however. Having greeted Hamo and Tybetot and had Alphonse drawn to his notice, Leybourne seized on Alphonse with cries of joy and surprise and rode beside him, talking hard, all the way from the meeting place to Bristol. Barbara followed inconspicuously farther back, thinking it unpolitic to press forward and remind Leybourne that Alphonse had married into Leicester’s party before her husband had a chance to state his case. Near Bristol, she was startled by Tybetot and Hamo, who closed in on her from either side, suddenly displaying a surprising eagerness to enjoy her company and conversation. Barbara did not know whether to laugh at their innocence or be annoyed that they thought her stupid enough to be deceived.

  She knew they could not suspect her of trying to flee. Bristol Keep blocked off the peninsula on which Bristol town had been built from the surrounding countryside. One had to pass the keep to get to the port, so escape was impossible. And Alphonse had told them he intended to enter Bristol Keep to talk to Walerand and take his chances with what followed. So what Hamo and Tybetot intended must be to keep her and Alphonse apart.

  Barbara let them believe her ignorant of their purpose. She rode along with them, talking and laughing and fretting Frivole so that her mare danced forward and had to be checked. But each time it happened, Barbara came closer to her husband. And each time, she turned in the saddle and called to her escort to catch up.

  Perhaps they had never intended to separate her from Alphonse. Perhaps they did not realize what she was doing or could not think of a way to stop her without creating a disturbance that would draw her husband’s attention. But when they came to the drawbridge Barbara felt it was time to eliminate any chance that she could be held hostage in an attempt to force Alphonse into an action he did not approve. Right in the middle of a sentence, she kicked Frivole so that the mare pushed boldly between two men-at-arms.

  Shouts of surprise followed her, but it was too late for Hamo’s men to make any move that was not an open threat or challenge. Frivole was already on Dadais’s heels and Alphonse had turned around to stare. Leybourne also turned and glared at Hamo and Tybetot while Barbara did her best to look confused and anxi
ous, as if she did not understand what had happened.

  Riding alongside Alphonse gave her no chance to exchange a private word with him, however. Leybourne continued to talk eagerly about the prince until they came to the outer gate where they were greeted with an urgent request to go up to the keep at once. Dinner was being held for them, the captain said, and it was already near to nones. No one needed to be reminded of that. Barbara had been surprised when they had not stopped to eat after meeting Leybourne and was by now so hungry that she was glad rather than sorry it would arouse too much suspicion for her to try to draw Alphonse aside. She made no excuse about needing to change her dress, but gave Clotilde her cloak and gloves and followed the men into the hall. There they all disarmed together, washed in the basins held by servants, and went to table.

  Barbara was considerably shocked when, as soon as general greetings and urgent news were passed, Robert Walerand said, “Well, Sieur Alphonse, you have heard from Leybourne what we intend to do. Will you lend us the strength of your arm in breaking our prince out of his prison?”

  “No,” Alphonse replied. “And it is not because I do not wish to see the prince freed. Show me a way to spirit him free without anyone’s knowledge or to settle around him a few men who will provide him with weapons and defend his back while our army fights its way to him, and I will be glad to provide any help I can. For the plan I have heard—no. You cannot succeed. You can only endanger Edward.”

  Argument and protests broke out. Alphonse listened and ate and drank without responding until the angry noise died down. Then he detailed the threats to Edward’s life he foresaw from any attempt to free the prince by force. There was a shocked silence until Leybourne shook his head.

  “They would not dare,” he said. “And there will not be time. We do not intend to mount a siege. We intend to come swiftly and silently, gain entrance to Wallingford Keep by surprise more than force, and bring the prince out or gain a prisoner or some other advantage for which we can trade Lord Edward’s freedom.”