Chapter 58
June, 1178
Rhuddlan, Gwynedd
Guy Lene wouldn’t stop smiling. Teleri had to fight an urge to smack him on the head and wipe off his grin. They sat in the council chamber, listening to the messenger recount all that had happened since he’d left them not five days before and Guy Lene’s smile grew broader with every sentence. Was he so relieved to know his master would soon be home and he could give up his command of the dozen men still left in Rhuddlan? Or, she thought scornfully, was he just happy that it wasn’t Haworth who was returning?
“When will Lord William arrive?” she asked.
“They’re moving very slowly, my lady,” the messenger said, “because of Lord William’s injury, but perhaps two days behind me?”
“Is there any chance that Sir Roger’s army is following them?”
“Surely not, my lady!” Guy Lene interjected. She was amused to see his grin had disappeared, for the moment, at least. He gave what she thought was an anxious look to the messenger. “Surely not?”
The other man shook his head firmly. “Sir Roger was as close to death as someone can be and I don’t think he could have survived the night. I saw him myself.”
“But his men might want revenge,” she persisted.
“Sir Warin said it was a possibility; that’s why it was decided our men would stay together instead of the bulk of the army going on ahead, but—” he turned to face Lene, who had turned grey, “—he also said Hawarden was a highly disciplined force which relied heavily on the command of Sir Roger and which probably couldn’t immediately function as an army without him.”
Lene looked relieved. Teleri stood up.
“I suppose I’d better start preparing for Lord William’s arrival,” she said. “His chamber needs a good scrubbing.” Delamere’s body had already been removed and taken to the coldest part of the cellars because of the warm weather but apart from a necessary change of bed linens, nothing else had been touched since Longsword’s departure.
“And we must have a feast, Lady Teleri,” Lene said, brightening. “Especially now that we have a double celebration—Lord William’s return and the foiling of the earl of Chester’s plot.”
No thanks to you or anyone else, Teleri thought maliciously, but she nodded. “Yes, of course we must have a feast.”
“I’ll take some men out early tomorrow morning. Now that it’s safe again. We’ve been cooped up too long; a hunt is just what we need. Exercise for the horses and, hopefully, a few additions to the table.”
“I’m sure that will be appreciated. If you’ll excuse me…”
On the other side of the door, her expression of polite interest faded. She wasn’t as happy as Lene about her husband’s return. She had been on her own for almost a year and she had liked it. Fitz Maurice and Lene were, she was sure, fine knights but they had no interest in running a castle. They preferred hunting and scouting and what seemed like endless, noisy practicing in the ward right beneath the windows of her chambers at the most inconvenient times of day, and they’d been more than happy to leave everything else to her—even including settling disputes between their own men because, they’d claimed, she was unbiased, although she suspected they just didn’t want to make a decision that would be unpopular with at least one person. But now that Longsword was back, people would look again to him.
It was unfair. Hadn’t she been the only one to counsel against fitz Maurice’s rash decision to attack Llanlleyn and hadn’t she been proven right? Hadn’t she been the one to set the trap for the earl and the one to refuse to release him when Haworth had come to the fortress and tried to cajole Lene into it? And hadn’t Longsword himself asked for her when he’d brought Richard Delamere’s body to the castle? She thought she’d turned out to be a more prudent and intelligent leader than any of the men at Rhuddlan and she’d outwitted Hugh, also.
But for what? She and Longsword had unfinished business. He had gone looking for an annulment, despite his agreement to give her a second chance to be a wife to him and she didn’t know what she would do about that. When the earl had first told her, she’d been upset; now, having thought of practically nothing else for the last week, she was angry. She thought it was too bad Hugh’s own plan of revenge against Longsword had been so extreme; she probably would have been a willing partner if all he’d wanted to do, for instance, was burn down the keep.
She climbed the stair to her chambers and threw herself into a chair, frowning. Her women approached her and spoke to her but she ignored them. Longsword was coming back and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Truth was, she was a little nervous. Richard Delamere had always been an equable influence on her husband; would Longsword become a raging madman without him? If she brought up his quest for annulment, would he react angrily, perhaps attack her?
But almost immediately, she was indignant. Why should he be the angry one? She was the one who had asked for another chance and she was the one who had tried very hard to act as a proper spouse before he had run off to Normandy. He shouldn’t be angry; he should be ashamed of what he’d tried to do. It was she who’d be humiliated again when the story came out, and she was certain it would because gossip was the main occupation of a cloistered population like the inhabitants of one of the king’s fortresses.
Her frown deepened. An idea flitted across her mind, so quickly that at first she let it go without interest but then, before it had disappeared entirely, she snatched it back and considered it, and laid it aside. She was the injured party, she told herself again; it was her right to seek justice. But, would she ever have justice out of him? Were wives entitled to demand a price, a sort of galanas, of a husband who had wronged them under Norman custom? She didn’t know but she doubted it. He had said enough to her at one time or another to lead her to believe that in a Norman marriage, a wife had to do all her husband commanded and could expect virtually nothing in return. He would never see her point of view; he was probably upset that his request had been refused and somehow it would become her fault.
She knew she was working herself up into a frenzy following a line of thinking that might have no merit but she didn’t mind. She wanted to be angry with him. Indignation made her less nervous of the kind of person she thought he would prove to be without the influence of Richard Delamere. She retrieved the idea she’d just put aside and mulled it, added to it, refined it. She realized she wasn’t without recourse to justice after all; it had been right there all along and now she knew what to do with it.
The guard stared at her. “I’m sorry, Lady Teleri,” he said stupidly. “You want me to do what?”
She held his stare and didn’t blink. “I want you to bring the earl of Chester to me,” she repeated in a level voice. “Now.”
“My lady, did Sir Guy leave you permission to speak with the earl? He said nothing to me.”
She hadn’t expected resistance. This was a man used to being told what to do, wasn’t he? She frowned. “Can you explain to me why you think I need Sir Guy’s permission to see the earl?” she asked very deliberately.
He stammered but held his ground. “My lady, it’s only that the earl is—”
“You are aware, aren’t you,” she interrupted, “that when my husband went away last year, he left me in charge of this fortress?”
“Yes, my lady; you and Sir Warin—”
“Sir Warin isn’t here, is he?” she snapped. “Now, bring the earl to me or I will have you confined to the barracks until my husband returns tomorrow and I have the opportunity to detail to him your insubordination.”
After a slight hesitation, he capitulated. He bowed and left the council chamber. Immediately, she jumped out of the great chair and paced the floor. If one guard was going to give her this much trouble over simply seeing the earl, what did that say about her chance of success with the rest of her scheme?
She’d hardly slept last night. She’d dozed and then wakened fully, straining her ears for the sound of rain. When she heard nothing but t
he soft breathing of her servants, she was able to doze again. It was like that all night until, finally, she heard the jingle of spurs and the snorting of horses and men clearing their throats and spitting. She’d gotten out of bed and peered through the window overlooking the ward. It was still dark, just before dawn, but the moon was clearly visible and there were Guy Lene and his men preparing to leave the fortress. She was relieved; she’d been afraid a sudden rainstorm would sweep the land during the night and Lene wouldn’t go out, ruining her plan.
There was a scrape outside the open door and she turned around. Hugh crossed the threshold, followed closely by the guard.
“You may leave,” she said to the man. “Shut the door behind you.”
“My lady—”
Her voice was sharp. “Must you argue with me over everything?”
The door closed.
She returned to her chair and sat down, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, looked up at Hugh. He was watching her, his expression amused. She flushed. “If I were a man, he wouldn’t even have thought of questioning me,” she said.
“They underestimate you,” he said. The smile vanished. “As I did.”
She considered him for a moment and then asked curiously: “Did you really think your scheme would succeed?”
He seemed surprised at the question. “Yes, of course, Lady Teleri. Why else would I risk so much? And despite your…betrayal, I believe it still would have succeeded had Lord William not returned to Gwynedd. Don’t look surprised. I know everything. Men get bored guarding an empty hallway and a closed door. I’ve had some nice chats with your guards. And last night one of them told me about your messenger’s arrival and recounted his story.” He smiled again, wryly this time. “I always said the Bastard had the devil’s own luck—I’m sorry; I shouldn’t speak so crudely of your husband in front of you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she shrugged.
“No,” he said agreeably, “given what you’ve told me about him, I’m sure you’ve hurled your fair share of curses at his back.”
She didn’t want to discuss her relationship with Longsword and said quickly, “If you’ve been speaking with my men, you know, then, that Lord William is on his way. He should be here late tomorrow or thereabouts. What do you think he’ll do with you?”
“I really don’t know, my lady.” But he didn’t sound concerned.
“You know that Richard Delamere is dead.”
He nodded.
“If for no other reason, I think my husband will want to kill you for that. Sir Richard was the person closest to him. They were inseparable.”
“I understand my man, Haworth, is also dead,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes…however, I don’t think that will matter to Lord William.”
“Probably not,” he agreed and dropped his eyes to the floor.
The next part was embarrassing. She rose from the chair and walked slowly away from him, so that he couldn’t see her face. “I was thinking, my lord…what would happen to me once my husband has had his revenge on you?”
“I don’t know…”
“I think he might pursue your wife—your widow, she would be—again. And if it ever came out that your son is actually his son, I think he might succeed in his petition for annulment.” She turned around.
“It’s possible…” He looked up. “Would you really care?”
“Yes,” she said without emotion.
He waited but she said nothing further. He raised an eyebrow. “Then, according to your thinking, we have a problem,” he said slowly. “How have you decided to solve it?”