Chapter Twenty

O nce allowed to run free, he discovered that his love and his need for her was almost unmanageable. They had been reprimanded by the lady of the keep for their behavior, but when she burst out laughing at their explanation for Isabel’s wet, sandy and disheveled condition upon their return one afternoon, the message was lost. He did restrain himself more in front of others, but on those occasions when he arranged to get Isabel alone and in some place conducive to his aim, he wooed her ardently.

Nevertheless, deep inside him lived a kernel of fear that this happy ending would never be his. Mayhap it was caused by his guilt or his fear over his past catching up with him. Mayhap it was simply nervousness over the chance to marry the woman he loved. Whatever the cause, it was there, and no amount of praying it would go away or ordering it to cease helped to make it disappear.

August’s heat gave way to September’s cooling and the keep and those living there finished the harvests of the farmlands under Orrick’s control and con tinued the preparations for the coming winter. Wood was cut and stored, thatched roofs were repaired or replaced, animals to be slaughtered and salted were chosen and fatted.

William spent his days carrying out the duties entrusted to him by Orrick and spent his evenings with Isabel. Occasionally he managed to sneak into her chambers to await her return. A few times, he lured her out to the cottage in the forest. Most times he simply enjoyed whatever moments they shared.

If she remembered anything more of her life, she never said so. He would see her eyes glaze over as though she was watching her thoughts, but she denied any new knowledge whenever he asked her about it. After years of punishing himself for the sins he’d committed, William allowed himself to start anew. When Lord Orrick summoned him that early September morn, he had no inkling that his world was about to crash down around him.

“My lord, you called me?” William entered the solar after knocking, as was his habit. Orrick and Margaret were both present and neither one looked pleased with meeting him.

“This came from Brother Ralph. Since it concerns you, we thought you should handle it.”

William took the parchment from Orrick and unrolled it. He dreaded the news it would bring and, as he read each line, his worst fears were made real. There was a woman waiting at the abbey to ask about her missing sister. He closed his eyes and cursed the Almighty for this cruel trick.

“William, have you told her who you are yet?”

He whirled around at hearing his true name spoken. Lady Margaret stood next to him, watching him closely. How could she have known? For how long had she, had they, known?

“I am Royce.”

“William de Severin, we met once. Many years ago, when you served as page to Henri FitzEmpress. Some of the other boys teased you and chased you into an alley.”

He could not believe his ears. The incident had happened so many years before and so many important things superseded it that he had quite forgotten it. A lady, one of King Henry’s many mistresses, had saved him from serious injury with her appearance. A boy at the time, he had never paid attention to who it was.

Lady Margaret walked over and sat next to her husband again. William looked from one to the other. They knew. They knew him and they knew what he had done.

“I did not know you at first. You had changed so much since then. But I noticed the birthmark on your hand and remembered seeing it on that bloodied boy in the alley at Chinon.”

“Why?” Why had they never let on that they knew who he was?

“Quite simply, because you saved my lord Orrick’s life.”

William was stunned. Unable to focus his thoughts or to speak all the questions within him, he sat down hard on a bench near them. Holding his head in his hands, he felt as though he were standing in a quagmire with nothing firm to hold on to. Taking a deep breath, he realized he must face the man whose trust he had betrayed.

“My lord,” he said, standing once more before Orrick, “I have repaid your support with betrayal and lies. I cannot remain here, I know, but you should know how much the sanctuary provided has meant to me.”

Orrick rose and took him by the shoulders. If the lord saw fit to beat him where they stood, William would not fight back. ’Twas the least of the punishments he deserved.

“I have not asked you to leave. There is much to do before winter and I would have the service you swore to me. I am not willing to release you.”

“You and my lord can sort out what service you owe and what oaths were sworn at another time. At this moment, the important thing is whether or not this woman awaiting some answer of Orrick of Silloth is truly looking for Isabel or someone else.” Margaret pushed the men apart and picked up the scroll that he had dropped. “I ask you again, William. Have you told her who you are?”

Still overwhelmed to find out that they had known him, William could not answer. He could not tell Isabel about his past, his sins and his weaknesses. She would think him the monster he was if she discovered the lives he had ruined in his arrogant quest for wealth and power.

“I cannot, lady. If you know me, then you know she would revile me more than I already hate myself.”

“Tell her, William. If you love her, tell her and let her decide. Trust her and the love you share enough to give her the truth.”

“You cannot know the extent of my wickedness if you think that she will continue to love me when she hears of my sins.”

William watched as Margaret and Orrick exchanged a long and meaningful glance. Then they looked at him. “She could,” the lady said as she clasped Orrick’s hand in hers. “Seek her out before you leave to speak with this woman.”

William nodded, but the words of agreement stuck in his throat. He feared losing Isabel more than anything now that he’d had the chance to begin anew. His defenses were gone and, if he needed to barricade himself from those outside and go back to living the existence that she had banished, he could not.

He bowed and left the solar. For once he would disregard the advice of both lord and lady and first determine the identity of the woman waiting at the abbey. For all he knew, this woman could have been part of the plot to kill Isabel and he would be placing her in danger if he revealed anything about her.

The ride to Abbeytown would give him time enough to try to pull his concentration and the shattering pieces of his life back together. By the time he arrived there he would surely have figured out a way to survive the terrible reckoning he could feel approaching.

Brother Ralph greeted him warmly and showed him to the prior’s chambers. He would say nothing of his letter or of the woman as they walked through the courtyard and into the building that housed the prior, the clerks and the other lay brothers who assisted in the running of the abbey. Soon he was asked to wait and then left alone. Steeling himself for whatever came, he tried to calm down and regain his composure.

The door was opened in a few minutes and Brother Ralph escorted in a lady with her two attendants. He stood and bowed to her as they were introduced.

“Lady Alianor of Hexham, this is—” Before Ralph could finish, the lady interrupted.

“Lord Orrick? My thanks for coming to meet with me.”

Brother Ralph stammered and stuttered in that way that many monks had when confronted with a woman of great vigor. Queen Eleanor had that effect as well.

“Actually, my lady, I am Royce of Silloth, Lord Orrick’s man in this matter. How may I be of assistance to you?”

Brother Ralph excused himself as quickly as possible and the door slammed behind him. Rather than being insulted, the lady laughed and sought a chair a few paces away. “I seem to have that effect on some men. Although my husband urges me to temper my behavior, he has learned to live with it.” Soft laughter came from her two companions who stood a respectful distance away.

“Your husband, my lady?” William had paid no attention to the political alliances and intrigues since leaving John’s court and could not recollect who she might be related or married to.

“I have the honor of being wife to Guy, the Earl of Hexham, sir.” He recognized the name. A powerful man from a powerful and well-connected family.

“What help can I offer the Countess of Hexham?”

She paused and looked at the two women with her. Without a word, they curtsied before her and started to leave the room. One opened the door and nodded to her. “Still there?”

“What is it, my lady?”

“A man following us. I thought he was sent by my husband, but we know him not.”

“A thief, perchance?” William walked to the door and peered out over the woman’s head. “Where?”

He looked in the direction where the woman nodded and caught only a glimpse of the man in question. Too well dressed for a thief, he thought.

“No matter. My lord husband has sent along enough guards to protect the entire kingdom from an invading army.”

She waved the women off and then sat back down. As soon as they were alone, she caught his glance and held it. His heart almost stopped as he realized that she looked at him with Isabel’s eyes. The same shape and color, the resemblance was unmistakable. Not willing to give up information yet, he bowed his head and waited for her to speak.

“Pray, be seated, Sir Royce. Your journey was a swift one and there is wine or ale if you need refreshment.”

“I have made this ride countless times, my lady. I am well.” He did sit so that she could not see his legs shake.

“I am here on a private matter and have been told that I can trust Orrick as a man of discretion. Does this go for his man, also?”

“It does, my lady. I will keep in confidence, except to him, anything you share with me.” And most likely keep it from him, as well, William thought. “If this is a private matter, is your husband aware of your visit here?” He needed to find out how many were involved in this.

“I would not be here without his support. He knows every detail of my undertaking.” She smiled at his insolence in asking such a question.

“And your undertaking is…?”

“I seek my sister.”

“She is missing?” he asked, holding his breath for the answer he knew was coming.

“Actually she is dead, sir.” She was watching him, assessing his reaction to her strange words. He frowned and laughed.

“Is this some kind of a sham, my lady? Why do you seek your sister if she is dead? Should you not look in the place she is buried if you wish to offer prayers for her soul?” He could feel the sweat beading on his lip and trickling down his back. Could this really be Isabel’s sister? Had she been involved in the attack?

“Pray forgive me, Sir Royce. I should begin at the beginning so that you understand about my search.” She stood and he began to rise until she waved him back into his seat. “My sister is the eldest daughter of Charles, Duke of Richmond. I am his second daughter, but Anne and I are separated by only minutes.”

“Twins?” he whispered. He tried to keep his expression one of polite interest, but had no idea if he was succeeding or not.

“Yes, twins, although not identical. She is dark in coloring and I am fair, however we share the same shade of eyes.”

’Twas at that moment he realized that he finally knew her name— Anne. But would she ever be anyone other than Isabel to him?

“As befits the daughters of a duke, we were betrothed to the sons of great families to cement alliances and to smooth over some old disagreements. Anne was married to the nephew of the Duke of Lancaster and I, as you already know, to Hexham’s heir. My husband has recently ascended to this title and inheritance with the unexpected death of his father.”

“My condolences on his passing,” he said politely. “And your sister passed away, also?”

She turned and stared at him. She seemed to be deciding how much and how to say what was on her mind. “She did not pass away as you say, sir. She was murdered, plain and simple.”

He shifted on his chair at her accusations. “And your proof of this accusation?”

She looked at him and he noticed the tears in her eyes. Lady Alianor sat down and wiped her eyes before continuing. “I have no proof, sir, other than in here.” She touched her chest over her heart. “I would know if she were dead. I would know.”

He ached to reach out to her, but he dared not. In her pain, he could hear the echo of Isabel’s words and her grief. “Where is she buried? Did you help prepare her for burial?”

“Oh, nay. Her husband’s family took care of that before we were even given the news.”

“Her husband was so grief stricken, then? He had the burial quickly?” William probed this sore spot.

“The only good thing that cur of a husband did was die with her.”

“I apologize, my lady. I am confused. Her husband is dead, too?”

She was talking about Isabel.

Merde.

“I ask your pardon, Sir Royce. I am making a muddle of this. My father was told that both Anne and her husband Edward were attacked by brigands on their way back from a pilgrimage to the cathedral in Carlisle. Only his body could be recovered from the attack and was buried quickly because of its condition.”

“It seems very clear to me, my lady, that your sister and her husband are dead. Yet, you do not believe this?”

“Anne and I shared many things as children. One of the things I treasure the most is the special bond between us that tells me when something is wrong with her and the same with her.”

“I have heard of such things. And this bond tells you what?” He asked in spite of knowing exactly what she already knew—her sister was alive.

“Sir Royce, I would know if my sister were dead. I would have felt her death. And I feel only her distress. She cannot be dead.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

He waited for her to calm before speaking. In his mind he could hear Isabel, Anne, telling him of hearing her sister’s voice guiding her out of the marshes the night of the attack and urging her to go on. He wanted to scoff at the outrageous notion that two peo ple could be connected in this way, but there seemed to be something between them.

“What, other than these feelings, makes you think that something other than the reason given you caused her death?”

“I was distraught when I received the news. I have not seen my sister since just after our marriages were held five years ago.”

“So long?” With the families mentioned spread out over England, it would not be unusual for visits to be limited. But with two sisters as close as these were, not seeing her in that long would have been alarming.

“Her marriage was to repair a breach in trust between Lancaster and my father. They are not friends, but with Anne’s marriage, they are not enemies. My father and Edward’s father and uncle would have been pleased to never lay eyes on each other again. Anne,” she said sadly, “was caught between them.”

William stood and walked to where the prior had set out wine and ale. He poured two cups and handed one to Lady Alianor. She sat and sipped it slowly. He waited again as she collected her thoughts. He fought within himself against the urge to ease her pain by telling her the truth—that Anne was alive.

“What was there that made you suspicious about her death? And, I did not ask you, when did this happen?”

“This would have taken place in early June. We were told that Edward and Anne had traveled to the cathedral to pray for a child. Although I have been blessed twice with sons, Anne has not been so blessed.” She held out a hand to him. “Sir? Are you well?”

He did not feel well at all for the bile churned in his gut at her words. This was the basis of Isabel’s husband’s hatred and the reason for his plan to kill her. She had failed to give him the heirs required of such marriages. William swallowed and took a mouthful of ale to keep from throwing up.

Isabel’s tearful plea the night she followed him in the storm repeated in his thoughts. What failure on my part caused a hatred so deep that he would kill me over it? Trapped in an unfruitful marriage with no way out was a good enough reason, it would seem.

“Do not worry over me, my lady. I have been suffering a sour stomach for a few days.” Probably the guilt stirring his insides.

“I journeyed to the cathedral myself as a penance for my part in this. While there, I spoke to some of the monks who told me that Edward’s party did not head south toward Lancaster as we’d been told, but that they traveled instead in this direction.”

He did not forget the first part of her statement, but focused on the second. “What was their destination? Where do—where did they reside?”

“Edward received a keep in Allonby. They were retiring there to pray for God’s mercy and to make all attempts to fulfill the terms of their marriage contract. That is not far from Silloth?”

“About two days’ travel down the coast from Lord Orrick’s lands.”

William was torn now. Edward of Allonby had held so little trust in God’s answer that he took matters into his own hands to rid himself of a barren wife. Depending on the terms of the property settlement on their betrothal and marriage, he could have inherited a sizable amount of lands and wealth either with the birth of an heir or on her death. ’Twould seem he tried for both methods.

He was certain now that Alianor had nothing to do with Isabel’s attack and that to keep them apart was wrong. He also knew that he was not suitable for the daughter of a duke, not even when he held all of his family lands and titles and certainly not now as the penniless knight in this corner of England. As surely as he breathed, he would lose her as soon as she was claimed by Alianor. Whether her memory returned or not, their plans for a life together, their love, had no place and no chance.

He needed time to consider what to do. Lady Alianor did not have any proof of Isabel’s existence, other than feelings. If her father or her husband had truly believed in her intuition, there would have been armed parties of soldiers searching the land for Isabel.

Could he give her up now that he held the secret of her existence and her identity? Even when he was at his best, it would be a struggle to relinquish this woman. If Lady Alianor did not find her and was finally convinced that her feelings were incorrect, she would leave and never return, accepting that her sister was truly dead. And he would have her with him.

His long-unused conscience flared to life, gnawing at him with questions. How long would she stay with him if she discovered his past? How long until her memory returned and she realized that she was entitled to wealth and lands of her own, wealth and lands he could not offer her? Would she hate him then as much as she loved him now?

His head ached as much as his gut. He glanced at the countess and thought of what to say. How could he bring this interview to a close and get back to Isabel? William remembered one of the things that Lady Alianor had said.

“If I might ask, my lady, you said you did penance for your part in this. How do you bear the blame for your sister’s death?” She glared at his words and he rephrased them. “If your sister is dead.”

“This is the most difficult part, Sir Royce.”

“If you would rather not speak of it, my lady, I would understand since this entire situation contains issues of such a personal and private nature.”

She reached out and touched his hand. With a halfhearted smile, she said, “No, I will tell you the whole of it. Since I am asking your assistance, you should know the sordid story.”

When put like that, mayhap he did not want to hear the rest?

“You see, I was supposed to marry Edward and not Guy. But when he accompanied his uncle and father to Richmond for the negotiations, he frightened me with his…intensity. Anne knew how I felt about him and went to our father and convinced him she was infatuated with Edward. Since which of us were named in the marriage settlements did not matter, she took my place.”

Her tears fell silently this time and he could say nothing. Alianor must have known about Anne’s treatment at the hands of her disappointed husband and his family. She knew that her fears had spurred Anne into stepping forward to protect her. And now the reason behind the unhappy marriage was clear—Isabel, Anne, was barren.

William needed to get out of that room, for the ground beneath him felt as though it was shifting and he feared that the walls around him would crash down soon. He needed to put as much distance between Alianor and himself as was possible, for she was causing his conscience to think about doing the right thing in this matter and he could not let that happen.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Somehow he obtained her promise to wait a few days while he brought this news to Lord Orrick. He agreed to come back to the abbey and bring her any news of any untoward occurrence that had happened in the area in the early part of June. He gained himself just about a week to come to terms with the knowledge he had acquired and to decide what to do.

In leaving, he almost knocked over the two women who waited for her outside the chamber. The bells of the abbey called the monks there to the hour of sext and William faced staying at the abbey overnight since dusk was at hand. As he walked through the courtyard, he decided not to ask for a room for the night there. He needed a drink. Actually, he needed many of them to drown out the questions and voices seething inside of him.

Connor hailed him from the gate and William smiled as finally something went his way. Since his friend always carried a skin of uisge beatha, he could count on a supply of mind-numbing whiskey on hand. As Connor directed him to their campsite, William could count the short time that his conscience had to bother him. He never made it past the third swig of the potent brew.