Page 25 of The Taming


  When Oliver knew Jeanne was carrying his child, he became furiously jealous. His hatred of the Peregrines increased because the woman he loved, the mother of his child, was someone else’s wife. Jeanne begged him to allow her to go to Rogan and ask for an annulment, but Oliver became enraged at the idea. He was terrified that Jeanne would return to the Peregrines—or even that, upon seeing Jeanne and hearing the news, Rogan would murder her.

  But, defying Oliver and endangering her life, she went to Rogan. It had been an ordeal getting out of a castle that was under siege. On a black, moonless night, her ladies had helped her down the wall, a well-bribed man had rowed her across the inner moat, then she’d run, crouched, to the outer moat, where another boat awaited her. It had cost her much gold to bribe the guards on the parapets to look the other way, but she’d managed it.

  Wearing a roughly woven cloak over her gown, she’d easily walked through Rogan’s camp without one person recognizing her. If she had not been sure before, after seeing no recognition on the faces of people she’d lived with for months, she was sure. She walked past Severn and young Zared, and they didn’t so much as glance at her. When she faced Rogan, there was no gladness at seeing her again, no joy that at last he could stop the siege. She asked him to walk away into the woods with her, and he had. As quickly as possible, she told him she had grown to love Oliver and now carried his child.

  For a moment she thought he was going to kill her. Instead, he had taken her arm and told her she was a Peregrine and was staying with him, that he’d never release her to a Howard. She had forgotten what the Peregrines were like by half. At the thought of never seeing Oliver again and having to spend the rest of her life in filthy Moray Castle, she’d begun to cry. She didn’t remember what she’d said, but she believed she remembered saying she’d kill herself if she had to live with Rogan.

  Whatever she’d said, he’d released her arm and pushed her hard against a tree. “Go,” he’d said. “Get out of my sight.”

  Jeanne had started running and hadn’t stopped until she was safe inside a peasant’s hut. That day the Peregrines had stopped the siege, and a month later Jeanne heard that Rogan had petitioned the king for an annulment.

  Jeanne was able to keep Oliver from learning of her visit to Rogan and so saved herself many jealous accusations. But in the years since, over their heads hung the fact that Jeanne had once been married to a Peregrine. For years Oliver looked at their oldest son askance, and once Jeanne saw him inspecting the boy’s hair. “There is no red in it,” she said, and moved past him. Oliver had been taught to hate the Peregrines from childhood, but now he hated them more. It seemed to him that the Peregrines had first claim to everything he owned: his castle and his wife.

  So now, so many years later, Oliver had tried to get back at the Peregrines by yet again taking a wife of theirs. But this time Rogan wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t going to risk losing another brother for a woman he’d never wanted in the first place.

  Jeanne looked at Liana. “I do not know what happens now,” she said honestly.

  “Nor do I,” Liana answered bleakly.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  Liana finished the last stitch on the embroidered dragon on her frame and snipped the thread. She had completed the entire pillow cover in just a few weeks. She’d forced herself to keep her hands busy because if her hands were busy, she thought less.

  For five long weeks she had been a prisoner of the Howards. After she was well enough to move about, she had been given a pleasant, sunny guest room and all the sewing supplies she needed. Jeanne had shared two gowns with her.

  Other than Jeanne, Liana saw no one but the servants who came to clean, and they were forbidden to speak to her. The first few days she had paced the room until her legs had grown tired, but then she began to sew, using the intricate stitching to take her mind off the news Jeanne brought her each evening.

  The Howards kept close watch on the Peregrines, and they reported to Oliver. Rogan was seen every day. He trained with his men, rode with his brother, chased the peasant girls like a satyr.

  Oliver renewed his threats to Rogan, saying Liana was in love with Oliver’s brother. Rogan’s reply had been to inquire if he was invited to the wedding.

  Liana jabbed the needle into the tapestry and hit her thumb. Quick tears came to her eyes. Filthy beast, she thought. Daily she went over in her mind all the many terrible things Rogan had done to her. If she ever got away from the Howards, she hoped never to see a Peregrine again. She hoped all of them, including that boy-girl Zared, sank in their own mire and drowned.

  At the beginning of the sixth week, Jeanne came to her with a frown on her face.

  “What is it?” Liana asked.

  “I don’t know. Oliver is angry, more angry than I’ve ever seen him. He wants to force Rogan into a fight.” Jeanne sat down heavily. “I can find out nothing, but I think Oliver may have issued a personal challenge to Rogan, a trial by combat.”

  “That will settle the feud once and for all. The winner will own this place.”

  Jeanne put her face in her hands. “You can afford to say that. Rogan is years younger than Oliver, and larger and stronger. Your husband will win and mine will die.”

  In the last weeks Jeanne had become very familiar to Liana, familiar almost to the point of friendship. Liana put a hand on her shoulder. “I know how you must feel. I once believed I loved my husband.”

  To the right was a clatter.

  “What was that?” Jeanne asked, her head coming up.

  “The man cleaning the toilet.”

  “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

  “I forget them myself. They come and go so quietly,” Liana said. “At home…I mean, at my husband’s castle, the servants were inept, lazy, and had no idea how to clean anything.”

  Again came the clatter.

  Liana went to the doorway of the garderobe. “Leave us,” she ordered to the bent old man who’d been clumsily cleaning her room for the last three days.

  “But I haven’t finished, my lady,” he whined.

  “Go!” Liana ordered, and stood there while the old man hobbled out, one leg dragging behind him.

  When they were alone, she turned back to Jeanne. “What did Rogan say to the challenge?”

  “I don’t believe it’s been issued. Oliver could not think he could beat Rogan. Oh, Liana, this has to stop.”

  “Then release me,” Liana said. “Help me get away. Once I am gone, Oliver’s anger will cool.”

  “Will you go back to Rogan?”

  Liana turned away. “I don’t know. I have some property in my own right. Perhaps I’ll go there. Surely I can find someplace where I belong, someplace where I’m not a burden.”

  Jeanne stood. “My first loyalty is to my husband. I cannot help you escape. He is not pleased that I see you every day as it is. No,” she said firmly, “it would humiliate him if I betrayed him.”

  Betrayal, Liana thought. The history of the Howards and the Peregrines was rife with betrayal.

  Abruptly, Jeanne left the room, as if she were afraid she’d change her mind if she remained with Liana.

  The next day Liana was nervous, jumping at every sound. The door was unlocked and she looked up, hoping to see Jeanne and hear the news, but it was only the old cleaning man. Disappointed, she looked back down at the new piece of linen stretched on her embroidery frame. “Take the food tray away and get out,” she said crossly.

  “And where should I go?” said a voice that was so familiar to her that chills went up her spine. Very slowly, she looked up. Standing before the heavy door was Rogan, an eyepatch pushed up to his forehead, a padded hump on his back, a leg bandaged so that it looked as if it were crooked.

  He was grinning at her in an infuriating way that Liana knew signaled he expected her to leap on him in joy.

  Instead, she grabbed a goblet from her empty breakfast tray and threw it at his head. He ducked, and it went slamming against the do
or. “You bastard!” she said. “You randy satyr. You lying, cheating blackguard. I never want to see you again.” One by one she threw items from the tray at him and then began on whatever she could grab in the room. “You left me here to rot. They cut my hair, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want me. You never wanted me. You never even told me Zared was a girl. You said Oliver Howard could have me for all you cared. You laughed while I was held prisoner. You went hawking with Severn while I was locked in this room. You—”

  “It was Baudoin,” Rogan said.

  Having run out of ornaments to throw at him, Liana began to tear the blankets from the bed and threw them. They fluttered through the air, landing at his feet. There was now a large pile of ornaments, pillows, and dishes around him. “You deserve everything the Howards do to you,” she yelled. “Your whole family is rotten to the core. I nearly died of a fever while you were enjoying yourself. I’m sure you won’t care, but they tied me to a tree all night in the rain. I could have lost our baby. As if you’d care. You never—”

  “It was Baudoin hawking. I was here,” Rogan said.

  “That’s just like a Peregrine: blame someone else. That poor, innocent family man. He would care if someone cut off his wife’s hair. He would—” She paused. There was nothing else left in the room to throw at him. “Here? You were here?” There was suspicion in her voice.

  “I have been here searching for you for nearly three weeks. The location of your room has been a well-guarded secret.”

  Liana wasn’t sure she believed him. “How could you be here and not be noticed? The Howards know you by sight.”

  “Not as well as they think. Their spies have seen Baudoin hawking and chasing the Days, not me. I have been here under disguise. I have cleaned things. I have whitewashed walls, swept floors—and listened.”

  Liana was beginning to hear him. Perhaps the news she had heard of his denials had been untrue. “You clean something?” she said. “I am to believe that? You wouldn’t know which end of a broom to use.”

  “If I had one now, I’d know which end to use on your backside.”

  It was true. Oh God in heaven, it was true. He had been searching for her. Liana’s knees weakened on her and she collapsed, sitting, on the bare feather mattress, put her face in her hands, and began to cry as if her heart would break.

  Rogan didn’t dare touch her. He stood where he was in the midst of the debris and stared at her. He hadn’t thought ever to see her again.

  The day she’d been taken, he’d rolled in stinging nettles and his skin was on fire. He’d imagined how his wife would have a tub of hot water prepared for him and she would ease his pain. But he’d bounded up the stairs to find a solar full of crying women. He couldn’t get anything out of Liana’s maids, but Gaby, between sobs, was able to tell him Liana had been taken by the Howards. Oliver Howard had sent a message that, for her return, he wanted the surrender of Moray Castle.

  Rogan, without a word, had gone into their bedroom. He had meant to spend some time alone to plan his strategy, but the next thing he knew, Severn and Baudoin were on him, pinning him to the floor. The room was destroyed. In a rage so blind he still remembered none of it, he had taken an axe to the room and chopped up every piece of wood, iron, cloth. Candle wax mixed with cut sheets. Oak chair legs were crushed with a bent iron candle stand. Liana’s fine crucifix was in splinters. Pieces of her clothing were everywhere. Red silk, blue brocade, cloth of gold, cloth of silver. Four of her headdresses lay broken, the padding spilling out of them.

  The door had been chopped down by Severn and Baudoin as they went in to get their brother and keep him from injuring himself.

  When Rogan came to his senses, he was calm—very, very calm. He was so calm that Severn’s anger rose.

  “We will attack,” Severn said. “We have the money now. We’ll hire mercenaries. We’ll at long last rout the Howards from the Peregrine home.”

  Rogan looked at Severn and imagined his brother washed and laid out in a coffin—the way he’d seen Basil and James when they had fought to return Rogan’s first wife. Rogan knew he must not do anything rash, that he must think clearly and calmly. He could not attack a place as vast as the Peregrine lands without a great deal of planning.

  For days he worked long and hard, driving his men to exhaustion as he readied them for war. At night he stopped only when he could move no longer, then he fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

  But even with all his work, he still missed her. She was the only person in his life who’d ever made him laugh. Neither his father nor his older brothers had ever laughed when they were alive. But then he’d married this girl for her money and nothing had been the same since. She was the only woman who dared to criticize him. Other women were too afraid of him to complain of his treatment. Other women didn’t tell him what he did wrong. Other women had no courage, he thought. They didn’t set beds on fire, didn’t wear coins to dinner, didn’t dare ask him about his first wife.

  He was supervising the packing of war machines on to wagons when a Peregrine knight came with a package from the Howards. The little oak chest had been catapulted over the wall with a message that it be given to Rogan.

  He wrenched the lock off with a steel pick and took out the cloth-wrapped bundle to see Liana’s hair inside. Somehow, he managed to remain calm. With her hair, her beautiful, silky hair, clutched in his hand, he started toward the tower.

  Severn caught up with him. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “This is between Oliver Howard and me,” Rogan said quietly. “I go to kill him.”

  Severn swung Rogan around. “Do you think Howard will fight you one on one? That he will fight you fairly? He’s an old man.”

  Rogan felt the hair in his hand. “He has harmed her; I will kill him for it.”

  “Think what you’re doing,” Severn pleaded. “If you so much as ride up to Howard’s gate, he’ll have that thick hide of yours filled with arrows. Then where will your wife be? Come, help us prepare for war. We’ll attack Howard properly.”

  “Properly!” Rogan said, half sneering. “As we did in ’thirty-five? There were five Peregrine brothers then and still the Howards beat us. How can we, as poor as we are, hope to battle the Howards? We will take our tiny force and lay siege and Howard will laugh at us from atop his walls.”

  “Yet you think that you, one mere man, can do what all our men cannot?”

  Rogan had no answer for him. Instead, he went to his brooding chamber, locked the door, and did not come out for twenty-four hours. By then he knew what he was going to do. When he and Liana had gone to the fair, he had seen how easily the peasants walked in and out of Moray Castle. He had always seen them, of course, with their baskets of squawking chickens, their three-wheeled handcarts loaded with crude goods, men with tools strapped to their bodies as they came to do repair work, but he’d never noticed them. Only when he was wearing peasants’ clothing did he see the freedom of access these people had, the way they went through the gates without a question asked. Yet if a man in armor on horseback had come within ten miles of Moray Castle, he would have been greeted by armed men.

  Rogan called his two brothers into his brooding chamber, for the first time including Baudoin as family. Liana did that, he thought. She had given him that most precious of gifts: another brother. Rogan told his two brothers he planned to dress as a peasant and go alone into the Howard fortress.

  Severn’s shout of protest made the pigeons fly off the roof. He yelled, he raged, he threatened, but he couldn’t sway Rogan.

  Baudoin, who had been quiet through Severn’s storming, finally spoke. “You will need a good disguise. You’re too tall, too easily recognized. Gaby will make you a disguise that not even Lady Liana will see through.”

  That day Rogan and Gaby and Baudoin had worked on turning him into a one-eyed, humpbacked, crippled old man. Severn had been so angry he’d refused to participate, but Rogan had gone to him and asked for his help. Rogan knew that Howard spies
watched them, and he wanted Severn to make them think Rogan was still at Moray Castle. Severn and Baudoin were to make the Howards think that Baudoin was Rogan.

  Alone, Rogan had gone to the Howard fortress. As he and Severn had parted in the forest, Severn had clasped his brother to him, a rare gesture between Peregrine men that would not have happened before Liana came and softened them.

  “Bring her back to us,” Severn said softly. “And…I don’t want to lose more brothers.”

  “I will find her.” He gave Severn one last look. “Take care of Zared.”

  Severn nodded, then Rogan was gone.

  Rogan found that his stooped, leg-dragging stance made his back ache, and the Howard men who ordered him about often punctuated their orders with kicks and shoves. He made note of their faces and hoped someday to see them on a battlefield.

  He skulked about the castle, hauling swill, doing whatever he could to be near people who were talking. The castle was abuzz with gossip about the treachery of the Peregrines, how they were trying to steal what rightfully belonged to the Howards. The people speculated on Liana and said she wasn’t good enough for Oliver’s young brother. Rogan snapped a broom handle in half at that, which caused a cook to beat him with a leg of mutton.

  He ate what he could steal, and since the Howards, on the Peregrine family’s estates, were so wealthy, they never missed the food. He slept in a corner of the stables or in the mews with the birds.

  He worked and he listened, keeping his uncovered eye open for anyone who looked as if he might know something.

  It was in the third week, when he was about to give up hope, that a man kicked him in the small of his back and sent Rogan sprawling in the dirt. “Come with me, old man,” he said.

  Rogan picked himself up and followed the man, planning his death as they climbed the stairs. The man handed Rogan a broom. “Go in and clean,” he’d said, and unbolted a thick, iron-clad door.