Chapter Forty-two

L ess than a sennight later, Reina slammed into her bedchamber in a fine temper. Theodric, who was there giving the room a good cleaning, glanced up with a start, fearing ’twas Ranulf. He stayed out of that one’s way, and no longer attended Reina at her bath. But he refused to allow anyone else to usurp the rest of his duties. However, he saw to them only when the lord was not likely to be around, as now in early afternoon.

Seeing Reina, he relaxed. In another moment he noted the torn sleeve of her bliaut, the mussed hair minus the silk caul she had been wearing earlier, the bloom to her cheeks that was not entirely temper.

“Another tumble in the bushes, eh?” he inquired with a wicked grin.

Reina swung about to glare at him. “He’s a brute! An animal!”

“The best ones usually are.” Theo sighed.

She ignored that. “He rode out to fight Rothwell.” But not before he had pulled her into an empty stall in the stable and made swift, passionate love to her—for luck, he had said. With a whole troop awaiting him? The grooms sent running with a single growled order? Everyone undoubtedly aware of what had delayed him? But ’twas his lack of sense that truly infuriated her. “He would not listen to a word I said.”

“What did you say?”

“That he should not go, of course.”

She told the mighty warrior not to go out and fight? Theo nearly laughed, but did not think his lady would appreciate it at the moment.

“Rothwell? Is that not—”

“Aye, him! Ranulf said he might come, and now he has.”

“Where is he?”

“Reported about an hour’s ride north, and with an army three hundred strong. Ranulf took only fifty men with him!” she cried. “He is mad! What was wrong with letting Rothwell come here? Clydon is well manned now. We can withstand thousands! But nay, he said does Rothwell get a good look at Clydon, he will never give up. He means to stop him ere he gets any closer and turn him back with words! Mere words, Theo! When have you ever known a man set on war to listen to, much less heed, mere words?”

“When they come from a giant set to stop him.”

Reina glared another moment, then frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose that has some merit,” she allowed. “Rothwell knows Ranulf, knows what he is capable of. ’Twas why he was willing to pay so much to hire him. But, Jesú , the old man is going to be furious does Ranulf tell him that he wed me. What if he then thinks to make me a widow?”

Theo chuckled that she had now found something else to worry about. “Reina, think you Ranulf has not considered all this? He is a man of strategy. Fighting is what he does best. ’Tis why you wed him, is it not?”

“I know, I know, but I hate the odds, Theo. He is only one man, regardless does he think he is more. Why can he not be reasonable and close the gates when he is so outnumbered?”

If Reina had known that Ranulf rode forth to meet Rothwell with only Eric and Searle at his side, she would never have forgiven him for the fright that would have caused her. This was not one of Ranulf’s concerns, however. He took note of the dozen men who separated from the ranks to intercept him with Rothwell. Three he recognized from his first meeting with the old lord. The others were likely vassals he had coerced into joining him. They did not appear too pleased to be on this campaign, but that was what Ranulf had counted on from what he knew of Rothwell.

As he had also figured, the ranks were filled mainly with mercenaries; several of their captains Ranulf recognized from past association. They stirred uneasily at the sight of him. He had to wonder if they even knew what they came here for. To steal a bride was not something one would want bruited about.

Ranulf had left his own men concealed in the wood behind him, some visible, some not, so their numbers were in doubt. He had waited here for Rothwell in order to gain that advantage, but he did not really think he would need it.

“I did not expect to find you still in the area, Fitz Hugh,” Lord Rothwell said as they drew abreast. “When you did not return, I assumed you had decided not to accept my offer. Or will you tell me you never even gained access to Clydon and are still trying?”

This last was said with a sneer that rubbed Ranulf on the raw, but his tone was level when he replied, “Your first assumption was the correct one.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” the old man blustered.

“Seeing that you do not make a serious mistake. The lady you wished to avail yourself of is no longer available. She has already wed.”

“So that is why you did naught,” Rothwell chortled, then drew closer to add, “You should have come back and said so, but never mind. She can as like be made a widow. My offer still stands are you interested.”

A golden brow rose questioningly. “Five hundred marks to kill the husband?”

“Aye.”

“That would be a bit difficult, my lord, as I am that husband.”

Rothwell’s eyes bulged. For a moment, he choked on his own spittle. When he did find his voice, it came out in a roar.

“Devil’s spawn! You stole my bride! Kill him!” he shouted at those men closest to him.

Eric and Searle put their hands to their sword hilts, but Ranulf did not move. Neither did Rothwell’s men, other than to control their mounts that were spooked by the noise the old man was making. And he got louder, his face blotched with color, enraged that his orders were ignored.

“What are you waiting for? Are you all cowards? He is only a man!”

“He is also Lord of Clydon,” one of his men hissed at him. “Think what you are saying.”

“He stole—”

“Enough, Rothwell,” Ranulf growled menacingly. “Naught was stolen from you, and well you know it. The lady was never betrothed to you. She had never even heard of you. But she is now wed to me, and I will keep what I have made mine. Do you wish to dispute that, challenge me now and name your champion.”

Rothwell was delighted with the offer, until he looked toward his men to see who would fight for him, and not one would meet his eyes. Again his face suffused with color.

“Cowards all, that is what I have!”

“Nay,” Ranulf said. “What you have is honest men whose misfortune is to have you for an overlord.”

“You have not heard the end of this, Fitz Hugh.”

“Then you court your own death,” Ranulf said in a tone as ominous as the words. “For I will give you only this one warning. Go home and forget Clydon, or I will ignore how old you are and kill you myself.”

He did not await a reply, yanking his horse about and riding off. But he had seen the fear in those old eyes. Rothwell would find himself another bride.