“Come in, my lords, and be welcome,” Royce
said. “Here's a fire waiting, and wine to warm you after your cold
ride.” He gestured and the servant with him stepped forward,
offering the tray of filled goblets. Royce took one goblet, Adhemar
took another, while Eustace seized a third goblet and drank from it
as if he were a parched man who had just been rescued from a
desert.
Phelan did not accept the offered wine. He
glared at Royce and spoke in a voice shaking with outrage.
“Where is my daughter?” Phelan demanded.
“I might well ask the same of you,” Royce
said calmly, regarding Phelan over the rim of his silver goblet.
“Catherine is much later than I expected in returning home from
Lady Margaret's wedding. I assumed the heavy snow was keeping her
at Sutton Castle. When Sir William announced that you were at the
gate, I thought you had undertaken to escort her and my niece,
Aldis, home as a gesture of friendship. I must say, Lord Adhemar, I
am surprised to see you here. I would expect a bridegroom to be
with his new wife.”
“I have no wife,” said Adhemar. “Lady
Margaret left Sutton Castle before the wedding could take place. I
knew I should have bedded her the first night I was at Sutton. If I
had, she'd have been in no condition to defy her father, or me, and
we would have no need to trouble you, my lord.”
“Indeed?” Royce said, and set down his still
full wine goblet.
Adhemar, having finished his wine, put his
goblet on the tray, too. Eustace, who had drained his goblet at a
gulp, slammed it noisily onto the tray being held by the servant.
Seeing that his father was not going to drink Royce's wine, Eustace
plucked from the tray the untouched goblet meant for Phelan and
drank it, too.
“Lady Catherine and her companion vanished
from Sutton at the same time as my daughter,” Phelan informed
Royce. “I am convinced your daughter had something to do with
Margaret's flight. Either she thought up the whole idea, or she and
that Aldis girl agreed to help Margaret.”
“Flight? My Catherine? And Aldis, too?” Royce
echoed, looking from man to man for further enlightenment.
“They've run away,” Eustace declared, his
tongue lubricated by the wine. “They rode out of the gate at
nightfall after one of your precious daughter's men-at-arms regaled
our watchman with a tale about returning home to tend a sick
relative. As far as we can determine, Margaret left Sutton with
Lady Catherine's party, in disguise as one of the servants.”
“Why would either of them do such a thing?”
Royce asked, and again it was Eustace who answered.
“My fool of a sister has expressed the desire
to enter a convent, rather than to remarry,” Eustace said. He
looked into the goblet he was holding, as if surprised to see it
was empty.
“Do I understand this correctly, Lord
Phelan?” Royce asked, turning to the outraged father. “Catherine
took her cousin, Aldis, with her on her unexpected departure, as
well as the men-at-arms who were her escort to Sutton?”
“Aye,” said Phelan, “and my daughter with
them. My well-laid plans are now in ruins, thanks to those silly
females.”
“Sir Matthew and his best men-at-arms rode to
Sutton with Lady Catherine,” Sir William said to Royce, having
listened to the discussion in silence. “They will all be safe
enough. Matthew is trustworthy, Catherine is a sensible girl, and
any friend of hers must be sensible, too.”
“Not sensible!” Phelan roared his fury. “They
are willfully disobedient, all of them. How dare they hide from
me?”
“Mark my words, Lord Phelan,” said Sir
William, “the men-at-arms who escorted Lady Catherine and Lady
Aldis are all completely loyal and dependable. I'd stake my life on
their honesty. Matthew has found a safe place for the ladies to
stay till the weather clears, that's all.”
“But,
where
are they?” shouted Phelan.
“I want Margaret found and returned at once!”
“I do not know where they are, my lord,”
Royce responded in a voice that by its very quietness chided Phelan
for his loud and angry manner. “I had no knowledge of your
daughter's flight from her wedding until you came to my home just
now to tell me of it.”
“Are you saying she's not here?” Phelan
demanded.
“He has already told you she's not,” Eustace
said. “Why should she come here? Father, we've both heard over and
over again the nonsense my idiot sister was spouting about wanting
to enter a convent, and the promises she imagined we once made to
her that she could.”
“Well, then,” said Royce, who had read into
the words spoken by Phelan and his son far more than they meant him
to understand, “have you asked for Lady Margaret at any religious
houses?”
“Of course we have!” Phelan yelled. His face
turned red with his anger. “I tell you, I will not let Margaret
defy me in this way. When I get my hands on her, she'll be properly
punished, I can promise you that much. She has to be punished, not
only for what she has done, but because she has proven to be a bad
influence on her sister-in-law.”
“Father,” Eustace said, “I'll thank you not
to air my problems with my wife in public. This affair is about
Margaret, not Gertrude.”
“It certainly is about Margaret,” Phelan
declared, his rage further inflamed by his son's interruption.
“I'll beat the ungrateful wench until she can't stand up, and then
I'll starve her for a while, till she's learned some respect for
her father and is willing to do as she's told. I trust you will
likewise see to your daughter's punishment,” he ended with a fierce
scowl for Royce.
“You may be certain,” said Royce in the same
quiet voice he had used throughout the conversation, “when I find
Catherine, I will treat her as she ought to be treated. And Aldis,
too.”
“That's right.” Phelan nodded his head,
seemingly placated by the promise. “Women are willful creatures,
till a man beats the willfulness out of them. I'm glad we are in
agreement on the matter. Now, have you any thoughts on where your
girl and my wicked Margaret might have gone?”
“We have already asked for them at every
castle, manor, or religious house that we know of,” said Lord
Adhemar to Royce. “Even the deep snow did not stop Lord Phelan from
his unceasing quest.”
Royce looked from the elderly and obviously
weary man who had expected to be a bridegroom, to the red-faced,
coarse Lord Phelan, to the flabby-muscled, apparently unintelligent
Eustace, and he briefly wondered what kind of person Lady Margaret
could be that Catherine called her friend. He felt a spurt of pity
for the unknown Margaret. Royce had never struck a woman and never
would, and he did not like to think of what Phelan would do to his
runaway daughter, once she was found. For found she must be, and
Catherine and Aldis with her, though after the last half hour Royce
thought he understood what had motivated both his daughter and his
niece to aid in Margaret's escape.
Still, Margaret belonged to Lord Phelan. As
her father, he was her legal guardian until she was wed again, at
which point her husband would have charge of her. Royce rather
thought Lord Adhemar would be a gentler ruler than Phelan. Perhaps
he could convince Lady Margaret to marry the elderly baron after
all, and as quickly as possible, in order to avoid the full weight
of Phelan's planned punishment.
“Well, my lord,” said Phelan, still loud and
angry, “what are you going to do about this intolerable situation?
Will you see it resolved by peaceful means, or do you and I go to
war against each other?”
“I prefer a peaceful resolution,” Royce said,
still outwardly calm. “Warfare amongst his barons will not please
King Henry, who has enough grief to deal with at the moment. Armed
conflict is not necessary in this case.” He tilted his head and Sir
William was at his shoulder, alert, attentive, ready for
action.
“Choose a dozen of your best trackers among
the men-at-arms,” Royce said to William. “Tell them to prepare to
leave at first light. I will join the search for my daughter, my
niece, and Lady Margaret. I can do no less.”
“We three are going with you,” said Phelan,
in a voice that suggested he did not entirely trust Royce's
intentions.
“Of course,” Royce agreed at once. “You are
more than welcome. However, since there is little we can accomplish
now that night has fallen, and since I feel certain in my heart
that all three ladies are in a warm, safe place and well-guarded by
my own men-at-arms, I am not overly worried about them.
“Come, my lords,” Royce continued with a
gesture toward the high table, “let us eat the evening meal
together in peace, and then go early to our beds, so we may set out
refreshed on the morrow.”
The patience and the exquisite manners Royce
displayed in the face of Phelan's belligerence dispelled some of
the irate father's wrath and the evening passed in a relative calm
broken only by Eustace's insistence that one of the prettiest
maidservants should accompany him to his bed. Since it was obvious
Eustace had consumed too much wine, Royce refused to take offense
at his guest's oafish behavior. Instead, he called two strong male
servants to see Eustace safely to his night's rest.
On the morrow, well before either Phelan or
his son appeared in the great hall, Lord Adhemar came there and
spoke to Royce.
“I intend to leave for my own home this
morning,” Adhemar said. “I am too old and my joints are too stiff
for me to spend day after day on a cold ride to find a girl who has
made it clear that she does not want to marry me. If we do find
Margaret, and Phelan then beats her into submission, what kind of
wife will she be? I agreed to take her because I had heard how she
nursed old Lord Pendance kindly in his last months, and I hoped
she'd do the same for me. But I've seen her. She's scrawny and too
tall, and far too sharp-tongued for my liking. I'd rather have a
softer, plumper wench to warm my aging bones.
“As for Phelan,” Lord Adhemar continued,
“what he wants most from the marriage is the land I was going to
give him in exchange for his daughter, and the connections I have
to the king, which exist primarily because Henry's father and mine
were friends in the days of the Conquest. I've no love for Lady
Margaret, and having observed Phelan and his son over these last
few weeks, I'd rather not call them my friends, much less my
relatives.”
“I understand your feelings,” Royce said.
“But what of the marriage contract?”
“It was never signed,” Adhemar answered.
“Lady Margaret ran away before we got that far in the final
arrangements. As for the betrothal agreement, it was an informal
thing, no more than verbal consent between Phelan and me, because
Lord Pendance was still alive at the time, though on his deathbed.
Thus, I am not legally bound to Margaret, nor she to me. I have
only Phelan's wrath to consider, and at my age his anger troubles
me little.
“I've sent my squire to tell my men to saddle
their horses,” Adhemar said. “I'll speak to Phelan the moment he
steps outside his bedchamber door, and tell him what I've decided.
Then I'll depart at once, before he has time to recover from his
surprise and to begin to bluster again. I am weary of listening to
his rage against mere women. He ought to save his spleen for more
worthwhile objects of hatred.” Adhemar started to leave the great
hall. Then, apparently thinking better of the action, he returned
to Royce.
“My lord, there is another reason why I've
decided to call off my marriage to Margaret and I think you ought
to hear it,” Adhemar said in a lowered voice. “You have been
hospitable under difficult circumstances. I will repay your
hospitality with a word of advice and a warning, knowing you have
the king's ear as few men have.”
“Yes?” Royce said cautiously. “What warning
is that?”
“If you are wise, you will have no more
dealings than absolutely necessary with Phelan and his son. Since I
first arrived at Sutton Castle, I have listened to them talk. Some
of what they say borders on treason.”
“How so?” Royce asked.
“It's one thing to seize another baron's
lands when the man is too weak to defend himself and his property,
and the king is too consumed with grief to pay attention,” Adhemar
said. “It is another matter entirely to plot against the king,
himself. When I go to court early in the spring, I will try to sway
King Henry's decision on whether he ought to marry again, and who
his bride should be. I'll tell him he ought to marry out of
England, a move that I believe will go far to prevent further
disputes among his barons as to who will rule England after him.
Beyond the giving of that advice I refuse to venture.”
“That's wise of you. Thank you for the
warning,” Royce said. “As it happens, I agree with you, and I will
tell the king so when next I see him.” Royce did not find it
necessary to add that loyalty to his royal friend would lead him to
abide by Henry's decision on the succession, whether or not he
approved of the king's final choice.
“There are those,” Adhemar said, meeting
Royce's eyes with no sign of evasion, “who believe Robert of
Gloucester would make a fine king.”
“Robert of Gloucester is illegitimate,” Royce
responded, aware that Adhemar knew it as well as he did. “He is
also an honorable man and loyal to his father, the king. Robert
would never try to seize the throne.”
“Unfortunately, other men are not so
scrupulous,” Adhemar said. He cocked an eyebrow and wisely left the
rest of his thoughts on the subject unspoken.
“Farewell, and my thanks for your
hospitality, my lord,” Adhemar said after a moment or two, when he
saw that Royce was not going to respond to his provocative remark.
“I'll meet with Phelan and then I'll be on my way.”
Adhemar departed an hour later, and Royce was
left to deal with the choleric Phelan. While Phelan fumed and
ranted, striding about the great hall and tossing chicken bones
into first one fireplace and then the other as he consumed enough
breakfast for three men, Eustace sat glumly at the high table,
drinking but not eating.