Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

"…I found myself wishing my time and life were my own so that I would be better able to focus on the amazing events unfolding before me. I would have given all that I'd worked for if just one afternoon could have been given to us where I did not have to worry about death and impending destruction… the storm was approaching swiftly…."

The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara

1206 – 1215 A.D.

"I want to see the king."

The guards in Plantagenet crimson gazed down at the round, red-headed young maiden standing before them. It wasn't usual to have visitors to the royal wing unless summoned, either under their own will or kicking and screaming. But this young lady, clad in a pretty red gown, seemed quite determined. One of the guards recognized her as having been in the king's chambers a few days prior. He immediately sent a page to the king's secretary.

So Alys waited in the sumptuous surroundings. She knew the king would grant her audience. She was certain he had been thinking of her just as she had been thinking of him. She knew that he was married, but it was of little consequence. She could still be a royal ward. She wanted the same attention he had lavished on her before, the same undivided consideration and compliments to her beauty that he had given her. So many people, including Sheridan, had said so many terrible things about him, but she did not believe it. He had been completely kind to her. She knew he had feelings for her.

It wasn't long before she heard a set of doors open down the long corridor. They banged into the wall, giving her a start. Looking up, she saw a massive figure coming towards her, silhouetted by the sun pouring in through the large lancet window at the far end of the hall. It took her a moment to realize it was Sean de Lara.

Her face lit up.

"Sir Sean!" she said happily. "You have come to…"

Sean reached out and snatched her around the arm, practically dragging her down the corridor. Alys' momentary glee turned to alarm.

"You are hurting me," she said. "Let go of my arm."

Sean acted as if he hadn't heard her. He yanked her all the way down the corridor, ignoring her increasing pleas, until he reached the room he had come from. He literally threw her inside and Alys lost her balance, tripping to her knees. Frustrated, terrified, she looked up to see him bearing down on her.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

She was petrified. "I… I came to see the king."

His jaw was flexing so hard that it looked as if he was going to snap his jawbone. "Does your sister know you are here?"

"Nay," Alys didn't realize she had her hands up as if protecting herself from de Lara's wrath. "She is in bed, tending a sick headache."

His jaw stopped ticking and he peered more closely at her. "Sick headache? Is she ill?"

Alys slowly lowered her hands. "She gets them sometimes. She cannot eat or stand for a few days until it goes away. Sometimes she vomits if there is too much light in her chamber."

Sean's fury at Alys was suddenly turned to grave concern for Sheridan. She had seemed fine when he saw her yesterday. But he had to keep his focus. "Get out of here," he reached down and picked her up off the floor. "Go back to your apartment and stay there. Never return, Alys. Do you understand?"

Alys didn't. "But why? The king was so kind to me the other day."

His expression clouded, a terrifying vision of death and intimidation. "The king wants nothing more than to rob you of your maidenhood and violate you as you cannot even possibly imagine that a man could do. I could tell you horror stories that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life, but I will refrain simply for the fact that I would protect your dignity as a lady. But I swear that if you ever come back here again, I will spank you within an inch of your life. Do you comprehend me?"

Her big green eyes were wide with terror. "Aye," she whispered.

"Then go home. Stay there."

She was out in the corridor by this time. Without another word, she turned to leave the same way she had come when another set of doors opened and she found herself walking straight into d'Athée. His grizzled face twisted with delight at the sight of her.

"Ah," he said. "The Lady Alys. The king will be delighted to see you."

Sean was several paces behind Alys. He could do nothing but gaze impassively at her as Gerard took her by the arm and led her back into the open room. Feeling sick to his stomach, he followed.

John sat before his elegant dressing table, watching his chamberlain cut the front of his hair with a very sharp dagger. He glanced into the polished bronze mirror, seeing Alys' reflection, Gerard's, and in the doorway, Sean. Shoving the chamberlain aside and nearly losing an ear in the process, he turned to his guest.

"Lady Alys," he rose from his chair. "I heard you had come to see me. How kind."

Alys smiled timidly. "I…I thought perhaps to thank you for the delightful afternoon we spent together, sire."

John took her hand gently, a gesture that was as sickening as it was forced. "Ah," he said sweetly. "A lady with manners. I was about to have my morning meal. Will you join me?"

Alys glanced hesitantly at Sean, fearfully at Gerard, before answering. "I would be honored, sire."

Sean was starting to feel the distinct twinges of panic. He'd seen that expression on the king, too many times. He knew where it would lead. He had held the king off once with warnings of unified opponents should he violate a St. James woman, but he suspected that warning would only hold good once. Alys had walked right back into the jaws of the lion and he was very quickly realizing there was nothing he could do about it. She was going to be eaten.

As he watched Alys sit at the private table in the king's bower, he could see the familiar pattern forming. D'Athée faded into the shadows as he, too, was expected to do. If he didn't follow the pattern, the king would wonder why. If the king began to ask questions, then Sean's entire position could be in doubt. If his position was in doubt, then nine long, horrible years of his life would be wasted, never to be regained again. He could not blow his cover. The king could not realize that a traitor lay closer to him than he had ever dared imagine.

He could not risk his position, not when everything was so close at hand.

Stupid girl!

He left the room and shut the door. There were guards in the corridor, watching him, and he would not react. He retired back into the large chamber that belonged to him adjacent to the king's apartments. Of all of the turmoil he had ever felt about his position, this was the worst. It was a nightmare. He knew what he had to do, but he also knew what he should do. Holding his breath, he waited for the first screams. They were not long in coming.

Damn her!

Sean burst through the connecting door, into the king's chamber. The king had Alys on the floor near the table, the top of her gown ripped away to reveal snow-white flesh. She was sobbing hysterically. The king looked at Sean, his expression between fear and annoyance.

"De Lara?" he said through clenched teeth. "What manner of crisis is this?"

Sean reached around the king and yanked Alys off the floor, so hard that he heard a bone snap. She screamed, clutching her wrist. Sean shoved her back through the doors and into the adjoining chamber, slamming the heavy oak panels behind her hard enough to rattle the walls. Furious, bordering on a loss of control, he faced off against the king.

"Sire," he was struggling to maintain his composure. "I told you that attacking a St. James woman would be foolish. With all of the allied nobles in London at this time, and particularly those paying tribute at Henry's Wake earlier this week, can you not see the folly of your actions? I forbid you to deliberately incite a riot against the crown when we have worked so hard to contain it. Surely there are other women you can entertain yourself with."

John gazed at him with his droopy-eyed, piercing stare. He fidgeted with the tunic that was askew on his torso. After an eternity of horrid, tension-filled silence, during which Sean was positive the man was going to have him arrested, the king suddenly broke into an unexpected, completely abashed, grin.

"De Lara," he grunted, slapping Sean on the arm. "My most loyal servant. How on earth do you tolerate me? I am trying to destroy myself even as you try to save me. Are we such a foolish pair, you and I?"

Even at those words, Sean could not relax. He was so furious that he had bitten his tongue; he could taste the blood. "If it is a woman you want, I shall find one for you," he said. "But I will not let you provoke the opposition as you seem so willing to do. I will not let you commit political suicide."

John was still grinning as he made his way, lazily, back over to his dressing table. "Very good, de Lara, very good," he spoke like a man who clearly understood his mistake. "I would prefer a blond. Not too thin."

As quickly as his lust roused, it was as quickly forgotten. From somewhere, the chamberlain appeared and resumed cutting the king's hair with a razor-sharp dagger. It was as if nothing had ever been. It looked the same as it did when Sean had entered the chamber.

But Sean was used to that. John could be bitterly confusing in that sense. Without further thought. Sean retreated back to his adjoining room where Alys was huddled against the wall, holding her wrist. When she saw Sean approach, she began to cry loudly. He knelt beside her, swiftly, putting his hand on her head in a comforting gesture.

"I am sorry, Alys," he muttered. "Truly, I am sorry. It was an accident. But I had to get you out of there and I apologize if I was brutal. Do you understand that?"

She was sobbing pathetically. "He… he tried to…"

"I know," he felt so badly for her that he kissed her on the forehead. "Come, let me see what I have done. Please know I wouldn't have intentionally hurt you for the world. I did not mean to."

She sniffled, wincing when he ran his fingers over her forearm. "It hurts."

"I know. I can feel the broken bone through your skin. Let's get you out of here and to a physic."

Sean went to the wall and pushed on one of the massive decorative panels that lined the perimeter; it swung open, revealing a steep, narrow staircase that disappeared into the darkness below. He took a taper in one hand and Alys in the other.

"Come along," he said. "Watch the steps; they're steep."

Tears fading, left arm held tight against her body, Alys allowed him to lead her down the dark stairs.

As the secret panel closed softly behind them, the doors on the opposite side of the chamber softly opened. The king was standing in the archway with Gerard. The men gazed unemotionally at the wall with the hidden panel, each man thinking his own thoughts of what he had just witnessed. It was difficult to know their conclusions. It was the king who finally spoke, a great deal of reluctance in his tone.

"Follow him," he said to d'Athée. "See where he goes."

"He goes to take her to the physic, sire," Gerard said. "You heard the bone snap yourself."

The king mulled over the situation, Sean's words. His weak mind was torn with suspicion and jealousy. "Indeed I did," he said. "But I have seen him do worse and show no compassion. Why this time? Why with her? Perhaps he wants her for himself."

D'Athée could only shake his head. The king waved a finger in the general direction of the concealed panel. "Follow them. Report back to me."

Gerard, against his better judgment, obeyed.

*

"She is hurt enough," Sean had Sheridan by the waist. "Go– sit over there, away from her. There will be no battles today in my presence."

Sheridan wasn't listening. She was so furious and terrified that she was crying. She wanted to take her sister's head off but Sean wouldn't let her.

"Ooooo," she shook both of her fists at a weeping Alys. "You are a fool, do you hear me? A fool! I should kill you and be done with it!"

Sean bodily picked her up and carried her to the opposite side of the room. There was a chair; he set her down in it, gently, and grasped her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Calm yourself," he commanded softly. "Alys needs your comfort, not your anger."

Sheridan's eyes were filled with tears. Then, she closed her eyes tightly and refused to look at any of them.

"She'll not get any from me," she hissed. "Please, I need to lie down. I feel horribly ill."

Sean swept her into his arms and put her right back onto the bed where he had found her a few minutes earlier. She had looked as if she was dying, lying in a dark room with a cloth over her eyes. But a brief story of Alys' morning to explain her splinted wrist had Sheridan leaping out of bed like a madwoman. It had, in hindsight, not been the brightest of ideas. Her sick headache was worse than before.

"What can I do for you?" he leaned over her, his powerful arms braced on either side of her.

She put her arm over her eyes, blocking out the light. "Nothing," she whispered. "Darkness and quiet are the only things I need. This will pass."

He gently touched her arm, a comforting gesture, wishing he could do more. "Shall I send for the physic?"

"Nay," she rasped. "He can do nothing."

"Can I at least try? I cannot stomach seeing you like this."

She grunted in response. If it wasn't a direct denial, he took it as an affirmative. He turned to go, pausing at the door. "If I leave, can I be assured that you will not attack your sister in my absence?"

Sheridan's arm flopped from her face in an irritated gesture. "Do you think I would wait until you go to rip her apart? I would be doing it right now if I felt any better."

He grinned, quitting the apartment. The little maid came out of hiding and went to her mistresses, Sheridan first to put another cool cloth on her face, and Alys second to inspect the splint on her arm. Alys waved the woman away, sending her for food. When the door closed softly behind her, Alys sank wearily into the sling-back chair near the smoldering hearth. Already, it had been a long and eventful day.

"Where was Neely when this madness was going on?" Sheridan whispered from the bed. "Why is he not here even now?"

Alys gazed at the lancet window, covered by the heavy oilcloth. "I sent him on an errand. He will be gone for some time."

"You did what ?" Sheridan ripped the cloth off, her red eyes glaring at her sister. "Where is he?"

Alys was torn between shame and defiance. "You needn't yell."

"Yes, I must," Sheridan seethed. "Where did you send Neely?"

"To Gunnarsbury."

"What on earth for?"

Alys was starting to loosen her insolence. "Because when we were at the Street of the Merchants the other day, a vendor told me about his shop in Gunnarsbury and he said he had the most marvelous delicacy from an ancient recipe from the Holy Land, and that I positively must have some." She came to a sudden stop and her lip stuck out in a pout. "So I sent Neely to get it for me."

Sheridan was dumbfounded. "You sent the captain of the guard to Gunnarsbury for food?"

"Not food. A marvelous sweet paste made from Almonds and sugar. They call it Marzipan. Isn't that a wonderful name?"

Sheridan stared at her sister for a sharp, brief moment before leaping off the bed again and beating Alys over the head with the wet cloth that had been on her eyes.

"Nay," she screeched. "It is not marvelous. How could you be so foolish? You sent Neely away just so you could be wild and disobedient, and I'll have none of this, do you hear?"

Alys put her good arm up, trying to protect herself. "Dani, I am sorry. Please do not be so angry at me. I am truly sorry. I promise that I will not do it again!"

Sheridan's head was about to explode. With a final good smack to her sister's head, she suddenly fell to the floor, laying down against the cold wooden planks and putting her cheek against the coolness of it. The room was swaying and she felt so ill that she was sure she was going to die.

"Leave me alone, Alys," she groaned. "You will be the death of me, I swear it. Go away and leave me."

Alys tried to pick her up from the floor. "Let me help you back to bed."

"Nay," Sheridan slapped at her. "Leave me. Go. Please."

Alys stood over her, uncertain what to do. "But…"

"Go. I shall be fine. I need to lie here quietly."

Reluctantly, Alys did as she was asked. She opened the door to the antechamber and the little puppy scampered in, racing to Sheridan on the floor and licking her face furiously. Alys watched as her sister calmed the dog and eventually bade it to lie beside her. Leaving Sheridan on the floor was a difficult decision, but she'd seen this before. There were times when her sister had laid on the cold floor for an entire day with a pounding head simply because it felt more comfortable than on a sticky, lumpy bed.

She closed the door to the bower and wandered aimlessly into the antechamber. She stood there for some time until the servant returned. The maid had a tray of bread and cheese and Alys sat, eating dejectedly. All of that energy from her sister had been over only half the story; she hadn't even told her about Sean breaking her wrist. It had been an accident, of course, but he had still hurt her.

Gazing down at the heavily bandaged arm, it throbbed considerably. The physic had given her a bitter willow brew to drink to ease the pain, but it wasn't helping. She took another bite of cheese and chewed, lost in self-pity.

A soft rap sounded on the entry. Alys set the cheese down and went to the door. Opening it, she came face to face with a slight young man with deep brown hair and a handsome face. He smiled timidly.

"My apologies for disturbing you, my lady," he said. "I saw you the other night but we were not formally introduced. I am Guy de Broase."

Alys swallowed the bite in her mouth, forgetting all about her horrendous morning. Sir Guy's youthful attractiveness sucked all of the self-pity and confusion right out of her.

"My lord," she bowed deeply. "I am the Lady Alys St. James."

"I know." His smile broadened. "It seems that all of the St. James women are exceedingly beautiful."

She blushed furiously. "Thank you, my lord."

"Is Lady Sheridan at home?"

Alys thought of her sister lying on the floor in the next room. "She is indisposed at the moment," she opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you."

Guy entered the room respectfully, taking the chair that Alys indicated for him. She offered him some bread and cheese, which he declined. But he did take some wine. It was rapidly apparent, however, that Guy had come for one purpose alone; he had come to see Sheridan.

"I am sorry your sister is unavailable," he said. "Will she return soon? I hate to burden you with my presence."

"No burden at all, my lord," Alys said. She was thrilled to have the opportunity to sit with a handsome young man. "In truth, my sister is ill. She is resting in her bedchamber as we speak."

Guy instinctively looked at the closed panel. "I see," he said. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"A sick headache."

"I see," he repeated. Then, he quickly stood. "I do not want to disturb her with our conversation. Perhaps I should leave and come back at another time."

Alys was quick to assure him. "We will not disturb her unless we shout. The walls are thick."

He smiled weakly and sat back down. He was coming to suspect that the Lady Alys wanted him to stay and chat. But he was uncomfortable with the look in her eye; sort of as a cat watches a mouse. She was ravenous. His gaze began to dart about nervously, unsure what to say, now wanting to leave.

He was saved by Neely throwing open the antechamber door. Neely's face was ruddy from the chill weather outside, but a fire of annoyance blazed in his dark eyes. He was about to vent his frustrations on Alys when he caught sight of Guy. Respectfully, he saluted.

"My lord," he said. "I apologize for my hasty entry; I did not know you were here."

"No apologies necessary," Guy said, moving for the door. "I was just leaving. Lady Alys, thank you very much for your hospitality. If you will give my compliments to Lady Sheridan and wish her a swift recovery."

Guy was at the door before Alys could protest. He almost seemed panicked to leave. But he wasn't clear yet; in his haste, he opened the door and ran headlong into a small man with unkempt white hair and a gnarled face.

"Forgive me," Guy apologized. "I did not see you, my lord."

The old man brushed at the front of his tunic for no real reason. In his hand, he held a big leather satchel.

"I am Lott Gilby, the physic. I have come for the Lady Sheridan." His sharp eyes fell on Alys. "You there, lady. Where is the Lady Sheridan?"

Alys recognized the physic who had bandaged her wrist. She motioned him inside. In the course of the exchange, Guy slipped out without being noticed.

"In there," Alys pointed at the bedchamber door.

The little man shuffled in, very business-like. Neely, having been gone since sunrise, had no idea Sheridan was ill.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked Alys.

"Sick headache," she told him.

It wasn't a new story with Sheridan. Neely had seen many of these episodes. He opened the chamber door for the physic, immediately spying Sheridan on the floor. He burst into the room, almost knocking the old man down in his haste.

"My lady," he knelt beside her. "Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

She stirred and the puppy jumped up, trying to lick Neely's face. "I have not hurt myself, if that's what you mean," she said quietly. "I just need to be left alone."

Neely was about to tell her that a physic had been summoned but the old man pushed forward and knelt beside Sheridan.

"My lady," he said. "De Lara sent me. Can you tell me what is wrong?"

Sheridan peeped an eye open, looking at him. "A sick headache. There is naught you can do for me. This has happened before."

The physic grunted, digging in the satchel he brought. He pulled out some phials of liquid, pouring some of this and some of that into a small pewter cup. As Alys and Neely watched curiously, he tossed a measure of white powder into it and stirred the concoction. It was like watching a witch make a brew and they were properly awed by the mystery.

"Drink this," he instructed to Sheridan.

With Neely's help, she sat up and drank the bitter brew. As she wiped her mouth and made a face of disgust, the physic turned to Neely.

"Put her on the bed," he said. "She will sleep like the dead for a day and night, but it should cure her."

Neely picked her up and lay her gently on the bed. Sheridan was still wiping her mouth. The puppy jumped up on the bed beside her, wriggling happily and burrowing in her covers.

"Sleep now, my lady," the physic instructed. "I shall return tomorrow to see how you are faring."

He was concise and business-like. And it was apparent that he had no time for pleasantries now that his task was complete. Neely escorted the physic from the apartment. When he returned, his expression was guarded. Sheridan was on her back once again, a cool cloth over her eyes.

"My lady," he began hesitantly. "I must ask you a question."

"Neely…" she was exasperated; would no one let her sleep? "What is it, then?"

Neely glanced at Alys, on the opposite side of the bed, and noted her bandaged wrist. His jaw began to flex.

"May I ask what has gone on this morning?" he said.

"What do you mean?"

He lifted an eyebrow, speaking mostly to Alys. "I am not a fool. I know I was sent on a ruse because Lady Alys apparently did not want me around. I will not argue the point, as it is my duty to serve the House of St. James. However, upon my return I find Lady Sheridan huddled on the floor in distress and Lady Alys with an injured hand. I would appreciate a logical explanation of why I was sent away and why everyone seems injured."

Sheridan lifted the cloth off her eyes. "I will let Alys explain why her wrist is injured. As for me, it is nothing quite so spectacular. You have seen me like this time and time again."

"If that is so, why did the physic say that de Lara sent him?"

Sheridan had hoped Neely had missed that part of it, but she wasn't surprised that he hadn't. Neely was, if nothing else, extremely sharp. And he was voraciously protective of both her and Alys. Her fury in her sister's actions returned, for a myriad of reasons.

"Because de Lara once again saved Alys' foolish hide today," she snapped. "When he saw that I was ill, he was thoughtful enough to send a physic."

Neely glanced at Alys, his dark eyes full of doubt and resentment. "What did you do while you had me out running circles for you?"

Alys refused to look him in the eye. "You have no right to ask me such things. I am above your reproach."

"But you are not above mine," Sheridan said. "Tell him, Alys. Tell him or I will. Tell him how you went to the royal apartment to see the king because you think he is in love with you. Tell him how the king tried to ravage you and how de Lara saved your life. Tell him!"

Alys was red in the face by now. She stood up, stomping to the door. Neely reached out and grabbed her good arm.

"Not so fast, my lady," he was as close to furious as either of the girls had ever seen him. "Is this true? Is that why you sent me away, so that I would not stop you?"

Alys yanked her arm away. "You are not my father, Neely de Moreville. You are a mere knight. You have no charge over me. We pay you well, we feed you, and therefore you do as we say. I'll not have you questioning me."

Sheridan sat up, shocked and incensed by her sister's diatribe. "How dare you speak to him like that," she hissed. "Neely is one of the family. He is part of us. You will apologize immediately or you will suffer the consequences."

"Suffer what?" Alys was gaining in momentum. "The both of you have done nothing but spy on me and suppress me for as long as I can recall. But, of course, no one watches you, Sheridan. You are so pretty and perfect. But I know otherwise." She thrust a finger in Neely's face. "Do you know that Sheridan has been sneaking out and meeting Sean de Lara? It's true!"

Neely's head snapped to Sheridan, whose eyes bugged with the shock of hearing such secretive information come blasting forth from her sister's big mouth. A storm was brewing, bigger than any of them could have guessed.

"Alys," she snapped. "I will never forgive you for lying about that. I have never done anything of the sort."

Neely was off of his tirade against Alys and focused on Sheridan now. "Is this true?" he asked. "Have you been meeting de Lara? My God, Dani, you know who he is and what he is. How can you risk yourself like that?"

He called her Dani. He hadn't called her Dani in years. There was pain in his voice. Sheridan wasn't so na?ve that she didn't know how Neely felt about her. She'd always known. But it was unfortunate that she could not, and would not, return his feelings. Still, she couldn't look him in the eye and lie to him. It would have been disrespectful to all he'd ever meant to her family.

"I have met Sean on a few occasions," she said quietly. "He had been kind and gracious and delightful."

"De Lara?" Neely said incredulously. "The man is terror personified. Are you mad?"

"I'll not have you speak of him so."

"Why not? It's true. I cannot fathom why you have allowed yourself to play games with the Devil."

"He is not the Devil, Neely. I forbid you to speak ill of him."

Neely was beside himself, eaten with jealousy and rage. "I have never known you to be stupid, but I suppose I was wrong. You have the weight and trust of the good allies of England upon your shoulders, yet you cavort with the enemy."

She snapped. "Still your tongue, man. My father has worked harder than anyone to ensure that England sees a new age and my loyalties lie with my father's work. Question my trustworthiness again and I will send you along your way."

Neely froze, his dark eyes glittering with ferocity and distress. "I wasn't questioning your faithfulness," he said quietly. "I was questioning your sanity in keeping company with Sean de Lara."

"I know exactly what you were doing. Take care that your jealousy does not consume you, Neely. What you desire can never be and I will not allow you to discourage others who may vie for what you want for yourself."

That was enough for Neely; like a dog that had been beaten one too many times, he quit the bedchamber with his head down. His injured heart was evident. Alys still stood at the foot of the bed, shocked by the exchange, shocked that the focus had veered away from her so violently.

"Oh, Dani," she murmured. "You have hurt him."

Sheridan didn't want to talk anymore, to anyone. "Get out," she told her sister. "I do not want to see you again today."

Alys left the room, but not before she began weeping. She was sniffling as she quit the chamber and softly closed the door. When she was gone, Sheridan lay back down upon her pillows and cried.