The Norman's Heart Page 13

  Neslin hurried to fetch his saddle while Roger went to Raven. The horse snorted a greeting, lifted his head and pranced in anticipation of exercise.

  Raven’s objectives were simple and understandable, Roger thought fretfully as he rubbed the animal’s snout. Not like Mina’s. She was as inscrutable as a cat and clever as a fox. What other tricks had she played on him? What other schemes were running through that head of hers?

  He was a fool to think he could care for her. He had been an idiot to even consider this notion of love. He had been right to hold himself aloof and apart.

  He sighed heavily. For a brief time, he had forgotten that lesson, and as his punishment he had to endure this terrible ache in his heart.

  Raven nuzzled his hand, seeking an apple, and Roger wished he had thought to bring one. A simple thing it was to give Raven a gift!

  “Where are you going?” Albert asked, appearing at the stable door. “And where have you been? I didn’t see you in the chapel.”

  “I have been busy commanding my castle,” Roger replied brusquely. “I’m going hunting, or we shall have no meat on the table tonight.”

  “Oh? Well, I’ll fetch Bredon, shall I? And do you want Edred, too?”

  “They’ve already got their orders,” Roger snapped before surveying his friend’s fine attire scornfully. “If you want to come along, you’d better get out of those fancy clothes. You’re starting to dress like that conceited fool Reginald.”

  Albert looked taken aback and slightly hurt, but Roger didn’t care. It was true, and the sooner Albert quit dressing like some stupid youth and remembered who and what he was, the better!

  “I believe I shall not go with you, Roger,” Albert said solemnly. “In your present mood, you shall surely do yourself, or somebody else, harm.”

  “Fine. Stay here with the women!”

  Albert didn’t reply, but spun on his heel and marched into the inner ward. Roger told himself it didn’t matter. Albert was too full of reproaches these days, treating him as a master treated a dull pupil. Well, he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t a fool, and Albert didn’t know anything about this business with Mina, and he never would!

  The stable boy returned, holding Roger’s saddle as if it were made of the finest crystal. “Give it to me!” Roger ordered, yanking it out of the lad’s hands. “What are you staring at?” he bellowed when Neslin didn’t move away.

  “No... nothing, my lord,” Neslin stammered, reddening and wringing his hands.

  “Then get out of my sight!”

  Albert approached Lord Chilcott, who was always the last to leave the table at any given meal. This morning, Reginald was attired in a tunic of such bright green it was almost too much for the eyes to look at. He was busily sampling some pears when Albert sat beside him.

  “Lovely meal, eh?” Reginald said, wiping the juice that was running down his chin.

  “Excellent, as always,” Albert agreed. He cleared his throat deferentially, hoping to alert the not-very-astute Reginald that he was about to speak of serious’matters. “How do you think your sister and Roger are getting along?”

  Reginald gave him a startled look. “Well enough, for a newly wedded couple. I confess I had some doubts about this marriage, considering Mina’s ... strength of character. But everything seems all right.”

  At least it did last night, Albert thought, remembering the couple’s behavior at the evening meal. He had seen Roger anxious to bed a woman before, but never had his urgent desire been more blatant. Albert had half expected him to grab Mina and take her right there on the high table.

  And perhaps even more surprising, judging from the way Mina had acted, Albert had little doubt she would have let him.

  Unfortunately, something seemed to have gone very wrong in the interim. Mina had not left the bedchamber this morning, and Roger looked as angry and impatient as Albert had ever seen him.

  Albert rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Relations look a little strained to me,” he observed.

  “Oh, I say, really? I suppose you’re right,” Reginald replied, biting into another piece of fruit. “They hardly said a word during the evening meal. Well—” he paused in his chewing to sigh wearily “—they probably quarreled again. I don’t attach too much importance to that. Any man would undoubtedly argue with Mina. She’s too outspoken sometimes. And. her temper! It goes with her hair, though. Surely Sir Roger knows that and can overlook it.”

  “I am not so certain,” Albert said slowly.

  “She liked his present, didn’t she? She was a long time in the stable, getting the mare seen to properly. I’ve never seen her so pleased. She’s named it Jeanette.”

  “Yes, I thought she was delighted, too. Why do you suppose she hasn’t come down yet? Do you think she’s upset because of Roger’s foul humor this morning?”

  Reginald, having finished all the fruit, stopped eating and wiped his fingers delicately on a clean napkin. “With Mina, who knows? Maybe. Maybe she’s upset because she’s not sure what he’s feeling. It’s certainly hard for me to tell whether Sir Roger is annoyed, or extremely angry or just his usual self.”

  “I saw the vein in his temple throbbing. That’s usually a sign of agitation.”

  “Indeed? Maybe somebody ought to tell Mina that. I mean, she might be enraging him without even knowing it. You know, she could be staying in the bedchamber for one of those mysterious female reasons. An ache in her head, or some such thing. It could have nothing to do with Roger at aU.”

  “True,” Albert conceded doubtfully. “Do you think she might be angry at him?”

  Reginald waved his hand in an airily dismissive gesture. “Who knows? She gets angry over so many things, and at nothing. Perhaps Roger said he didn’t like her headdress, or her gown, or something, and she’s up there sulking.”

  Albert didn’t think Mina was nearly as vain as that, nor could he envision her sulking. “Maybe someone should speak to them. Offer a word of advice.”

  Reginald pushed back his chair abruptly. “If you think so, you are welcome to do it. For my part, I intend to stay well out of the way. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to see if I can get somebody to wash my hose.”

  Albert sighed heavily as Reginald scurried from the hall as if he thought Albert intended to drag him before Roger that very moment.

  Was it his place to interfere, either? Albert pondered as he slowly walked from the hall out into the warm morning sun. After all, who was he to offer any man advice on marriage or love?

  Roger was a stubborn, arrogant man, and intruding in his marriage might cost Albert a valued friendship, but if he spared Roger any of the heartache that was his daily lot, it would be worth it. With that thought in mind, Albert strode toward the stables and entered. He squinted as his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness.

  “Can I help you, Sir Albert?” a stable boy asked nervously, tugging his forelock and then claspmg his hands behind his slim back.

  “Ah, Neslin, yes. Have you seen Sir Roger hereabouts?”

  “He’s gone out on Raven. Left just a bit ago, Sir Albert.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No, sir, he didn’t.” Neslin shifted and said quietly, “He was in a pretty foul humor, Sir Albert. Angry, like.”

  “Ah. Well, saddle up my horse, will you?”

  In a very short time, Albert was riding after his friend.

  A little later that morning, Reginald hesitated outside the door of his bedchamber and gazed down the hall toward the stairs leading upward to Mina’s chamber.

  Perhaps he should speak to her. If she was unhappily married, he was responsible. Or rather, partly. After all, it had been the baron’s doing. He could not have refused the powerful Baron DeGuerre. Besides, Mina had agreed. He had given her the opportunity to refuse, but she had wisely realized that it was something of an elevation for her to be married to one of the baron’s favored knights.

  Probably she would only snap at him and tell him her marriage was
none of his concern, at least not anymore. Truly, it wasn’t his duty to interfere in the affairs of husband and wife, despite Albert’s obviously heartfelt words. Albert might do better to find himself a wife rather than stick his nose into Sir Roger’s business.

  Yes, Reginald decided, it was not their place to offer advice or even a sympathetic ear. Better for the newly wedded couple to solve their problems without interference. Feeling much better now that he had talked himself out of any responsibility or obligation toward his half sister, Reginald entered his bedchamber.

  There was somebody inside, and he quickly realized it was Hilda standing in the middle of the room, her expression eager and excited.

  “What ... what do you want?” he asked awkwardly.

  Before she could answer, it occurred to him that this could be the answer to his prayers, and he quickly closed the door.

  “Forgive my intrusion, my lord,” she said nervously.

  “Think nothing of it,” Reginald replied, tugging on his tunic and trying to act as if he frequently discovered pretty, buxom serving wenches who had filled his dreams night after night standing in his bedchamber. He knew he should go closer to her. Or smile seductively. Or say something else. Instead, he stood like a training dummy, bands at his side, his only movement the trickle of sweat running down his back.

  Her lovely brows knit with concern, Hilda came closer until she was almost touching him. She leaned forward. Reginald felt faint. “It’s about your sister, Lady Mina,” she whispered.

  “M ... Mina?” he squeaked, confused. At the moment, he couldn’t remember who Mina was.

  “She’s not treating Sir Roger right.”

  “Oh.” The mention of his brother-in-law returned Reginald to disappointing reality with startling speed. “She’s not?”

  “No,” Hilda said, shaking her head so that her thick, wavy brown hair brushed her breasts.

  Reginald didn’t dare look at her, not if he was expected to think coherently, and he didn’t want to seem a fool to her. “And what do you think should be done?”

  “I was hoping you could speak with her. I know Sir Roger well—”

  “Just how well?” Reginald demanded.

  “Intimately well,” Hilda admitted. “But that’s over now. Has been since before the wedding ceremony.” She gave him a searching look. “I thought if I told you about him, you could tell her. It would be better coming from you, my lord.”

  “I see,” Reginald replied, trying to appear wise. “What advice do you have for her?”

  “She should never talk back to Sir Roger, for one thing.”

  “What happens if you do?” Reginald asked sternly. “Does he punish you?”

  “Oh, no! No, my lord,” she answered quickly and sincerely. “I... I don’t know what he’d do. I never tried. I never had the gumption. I thought maybe she had, you see, and that was the trouble.”

  “I see your point. Anything else?”

  “If she wants to give orders, she should ask him first. He’s used to giving all the orders.”

  “Yes. That makes good sense.”

  Hilda came close again. “And she might try...” She whispered something that made Reginald blush as scarlet as his hose.

  “I’m not going to say anything of the kind to her!” he protested, backing away. “I’ve never heard of such base, evil, disgusting, unnatural—”

  “It’s perfectly natural,” Hilda said, taken aback by his repelled reaction to her revelation that Sir Roger often enjoyed making love in places other than a bed. “Haven’t you?”

  “Certainly not! I would never demean myself in such a manner! It’s too... too... peculiar!”

  His indignation was so extreme and so charmingly blustery that Hilda was quite sure she was addressing a virgin, as well as an adorable if somewhat affected young man who might lose some of his more outrageous vanities with the love of a good woman. Such as herself.

  “Perhaps you should find out firsthand, my lord,” she proposed coyly, sauntering toward him with an enticing smile.

  “I don’t know.. ”

  But soon he did. Indeed, Reginald was shortly convinced that there was nothing so very sinful in Hilda’s suggestion, and he quite forgot Mina, Roger and everything except the delights he found in Hilda’s arms.

  Unfortunately, Albert’s attempt to help his friend did not meet with such fascinating results.

  Chapter Twelve

  Albert couldn’t find Roger, at least not before his horse threw a shoe and he had to return to the castle. With rare bad luck, this happened when he was quite far away, and it was going to be a long, hot journey back, leading his lame gelding. With a weary sigh, Albert started walking, reflecting on the thankless task of trying to help a stubborn man. Maybe this was a sign from God not to interfere.

  “Sir Albert!”

  Albert halted when he heard his name, and with great relief spied a mounted patrol riding toward him.

  “Sir, are you all right?” the leader asked anxiously. Albert recognized the young soldier, whose name was Egbert. Roger had spoken highly of him recently, and this position of leadership indicated that Roger had acted upon his opinion.

  “My horse has thrown a shoe,” Albert replied, holding it up.

  “Ralf, give Sir Albert your horse,” Egbert ordered. “You and Gerrald can bring Sir Albert’s horse home.”

  With a nod, Ralf dismounted, and soon Albert was again riding back to Montmorency Castle. “Why is there a patrol out?” Albert asked Egbert. “Is Sir Roger expecting trouble?”

  “No, sir,” Egbert replied. “He sent us to look for you.”

  “He’s come back, then.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Did he say where he was?”

  Egbert darted his questioner a surprised look. “Not to me, Sir Albert.”

  “No, no, I suppose he wouldn’t.” After that, Albert lapsed into silence for the rest of the journey home.

  Unfortunately, by the time the patrol reached Montmorency Castle, the sun had set, and they had missed the evening meal, as was obvious when Albert entered the hall. Dudley bustled up to him immediately and pressed him to take a seat and eat. Albert complied, scanning the room. “Where is Sir Roger?”

  “He’s gone,” Dudley responded unproductively. “He stayed until the watchmen saw you on the road. Then he went off on his own.” Dudley inclined toward him conspiratorially. “Sulking, if you ask me,” he whispered.

  “And Lady Mina?”

  “She ate her supper and retired. She looks to be moping, too,” he added knowingly. He sighed wistfully. “A good shouting match is what we need around here.”

  Albert grinned a little at Dudley’s proposed remedy, but not too much. Some kind of communication between the couple might be just what was necessary. “Do you have any idea where Roger went?”

  “No, sir. He didn’t tell me.”

  Albert tried not to feel frustrated, but Roger couldn’t have been harder to locate if he was purposefully trying to avoid him.

  Nevertheless, Albert would not be dissuaded from his helpful mission, so as soon as he had eaten, he set about conducting his own search for Roger in and about the castle and village. He examined the stables and armory; he went to the kitchen, and he even peered into the servants’ quarters. There was no sign of him anywhere in the castle.

  Tired and disgruntled, Albert could think of only one other place Roger might take himself, and that was the alehouse in the village. Roger had frequented the company of one of the serving wenches until Hilda had arrived at the castle after the death of her husband. With weary steps, Albert went into the darkened town. Occasionally a child cried or a dog barked, but for the most part, all was silent.

  Until Albert got closer to the alehouse. Then he could hear loud and heated voices arguing about something. Albert strained to make out some of the speakers, but could only be certain of one, who sounded more reasonable and calm than the rest. That was Lud and he seemed to be trying to settle the excited m
en.

  Albert shoved open the door of the alehouse and immediately a silence descended. Standing, Lud had clearly been in the midst of trying to placate his fellows, and he was the first to recover. “Good even, my lord!” he called out rather warily, since Sir Albert was a stranger to this particular building.

  The rest of the crowd, all men save for the serving wench, who was a florid-faced, robust young woman clearly at ease among the masculine gathering, shouted out similar greetings, for Albert was not one to inspire fear. He was known as a good-hearted fellow of limited power. Harmless, in fact, unlike most other Norman noblemen.

  “What brings you here, sir?” Lud asked politely.

  Before Albert could answer, Lud shouted, “Moll, an ale for his lordship!”

  Albert decided it might not be prudent to admit that the lord of Montmorency Castle had taken himself off like a disgruntled child, so he accepted the offered ale with good grace, all the while wondering if Roger was in a back room or a loft over the stairs with Moll’s sister, whom he had heard about, though never met. She was, so Roger said, a voluptuous, generous young woman of very hearty appetite for all manner of things.

  Albert sipped the proffered potent concoction. “Pray go on with your discussion,” he said when he realized his presence was continuing to cast a pall over the proceedings.

  “We’re deciding on the northern boundary for a foot ball game,” Lud explained. “The village of Barstead-on-Meadow has challenged us to a match. Some think the bell tower of St. Ninian’s over by the river, some the oak by the fallow land. What do you think, Sir Albert?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” Albert prevaricated. He had witnessed a few such matches in the past, when men from two villages would meet and try to get an air-filled pig’s bladder from one point to another. Whichever village succeeded was declared the winner, and the losers would have to pay for ale for everybody. Or rather, provide free ale for whoever was left standing, for the only rules agreed upon were the boundaries and that the ball had to stay on the ground in the open. Other than that, anything was permitted. “When is this event to take place?”