Chapter Twenty-Four

“I n the months I have known you, you have never been a coward.” Did he know his words echoed her sister’s?

“You are the second person to call me that today and I have to say I like it no better now than the first time.” She stepped back away from him but did not try to leave.

“I have no right to say that to you, since I am the one who behaved cowardly when last we spoke.”

“Royce, I do not have the strength to face you again. It will do no good and it…” She stopped the words before they came out. Will break my heart.

“Anne, just hear me out. You need say nothing if you do not wish.”

She looked around and spotted a bench against one wall. Walking to it, she sat down and prepared herself as best she could.

“When I spoke with your sister and discovered who you were, I was terrified. I kept it to myself to keep you with me.”

“You told me that already. Like a…”

“Nay! There you have it wrong. When I knew you would leave, I wanted you to leave without regrets. Unfortunately, I did not display the same planning abilities that you do when you set your mind to something.” He walked in front of her, but she refused to meet his eyes.

“I said some very stupid things to you and I would have you know the truth.” He crouched down in front of her, making it difficult to look past him. “I made you believe that the blame lay with you and it did not. I treated you no better than Edward did and I ask your pardon for that.”

She blinked faster, trying to rid her eyes of the tears, but it did not help. She glanced at him and then away. Her heart would not survive this. Her soul would not.

“Before you waste any more tears on me, you must understand why I cannot offer you marriage now. I would rather you hate me than yourself.”

“I already know, I am b-b…” She choked on the word that had been used as a weapon against her so many times.

“Nay, Isabel…Anne.” He shook his head at using the wrong name. “I fear you will always be Isabel to me.” He frowned at her and then continued, “Much as I will always be Royce to you.”

“Your name is Royce. We chose Isabel when I could not remember mine.” He was not making sense.

“My name is William de Severin. Royce was a family name I was given growing up since my father was also William.”

“William? Why did you change your name?” She could not help but ask.

“If you ask anyone at court, they will tell you that William de Severin died on the field of honor three years ago, settling a dispute with the Earl of Harbridge. The earl cut his throat and gained the countess and her lands and titles and wealth. I got this.” He lifted his hand to his throat, now without a beard, and pointed to the jagged line on one side of it. “Luckily the earl is as skilled as he is merciful or I would have truly died that day.”

“I do not understand. Why did the earl fight you?”

“I think I should begin a bit earlier in the tale. May I sit?” He pointed to the bench next to her. Not waiting for her answer, he sat down.

“When King Richard was held for ransom, I fell in with John, whom I had known as a boy in Anjou and Poitiers. I was intent on finding excitement and wealth and a rich wife to support my tastes. I was arrogant then and did not see the evil in him. I thought only of the spectacles and the tournaments and traveling across the Plantagenet empire. I became his champion and his enforcer as well.”

“Prince John? You support the prince?”

“I did. If he was challenged, I fought in his name. If his will was not followed, I made it happen. I did things in his name that brought darkness to my soul and that God will never forgive.”

She shivered at the ominous tone of his voice. This was a different man than the one she knew.

“He strung me along like a puppet, offering me what he knew I wanted, each reward larger and larger until he knew I would not resist. And I played his games.” He rubbed his face and held his head in his hands. “Then the prize I’d waited for was put in front of me. He must have realized I was tiring of being his man and so he tempted me with Emalie.”

Her stomach churned at his tale. She did not know him, but she knew men like him, toadies to royalty, hangers-on who sought the castoffs of royal favor.

“Emalie?” She was afraid to ask and, when he began speaking in a bleak voice, she feared what was coming.

“Gaspar Montgomerie owned much land and held the ancient title of Earl of Harbridge. His daughter Emalie would inherit everything, to be passed on to whomever she married. John decided I should be that man.” He smiled grimly, but he did not look up. “Gaspar had other ideas and sought support from Eleanor and Richard. Before it could arrive, he was killed.”

She could not believe what he had said. “You killed him?” Her hands shook now. She clenched them together to try to control them. She could not believe it of him. Certainly he had killed men in fighting and in defense, but in cold blood?

“As good as. I did not put the poison in his cup, but I did not stop it, either.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at her now. “This is why I could not tell you of my past. I see the hate growing in your eyes already and my tale is but half-done.”

Anne swallowed several times to clear her throat and asked him to continue. As sordid as this was, she wanted to know his role in it. Something just did not sound right with this to her.

“Gaspar died and Emalie was alone. John pre sented me to her as the man her father wanted her to marry. He even presented her with betrothal papers outlining our settlements signed by her father. She knew they were false and she resisted.”

She was getting sick. Anne was glad she’d had no dinner, for it would never stay in her stomach as this story went on. Already she felt the urge to heave. “And you cooperated with him? You were the prince’s accomplice in this?”

“By this time, I can say that I’d had enough. John did what he did best, something he’d demonstrated with countless others before me—he sought out my weakness and used it against me.”

She feared the answer but asked anyway. “Who was yours?”

“Clever girl! You saw what I did not. He knew that the allure of gold and lands were losing their power with me, so to keep me playing his tune, he took my sister into his custody.”

“Custody? Your sister?”

“Aye, Catherine. A lovely girl of fifteen. I was her guardian after my father’s death. She was an innocent, much like others John and I had debauched together. He held her and never let me see her. When I would hesitate, he would remind me of her innocence, her beauty, his control.”

“Did he…?” She could not say the words.

“He promised her safekeeping to me so long as I followed his plan to claim Harbridge. With the betrothal papers, all we needed was a consummation to make it a marriage that could not be denied. I consummated the agreement with Emalie.”

She gasped, then. He had raped this woman to gain control over her lands and titles. For John, he had taken this woman by force. She shook her head, still not believing that the Royce she knew was this man William he described.

“I loved Emalie. At least I thought I did. I tried to convince her to accept me, but she was as stubborn as her father had been. And smarter.” He smiled and she could hear the admiration in his voice for this woman. “She did not behave as most noblewomen would. You know, Anne, you remind me of her in that.” He caught her gaze and then looked away. “When John went to her and proclaimed her dishonored, she denied it. He almost spit! He had expected her to meekly submit and to control her wealth and her person and she laughed at him.”

“That does not sound like a good thing to do.”

“Nay, ’twas not. She had also sent to Eleanor and Richard asking for help. Once the old queen arrived and intervened, providing a husband for Emalie of her choosing, John stood to lose everything he had arranged. His last gambit was for me to go to the bishop in Lincoln and claim the prior betrothal and to claim,” he paused, “the child she carried as mine.”

“She was pregnant?” Her breath hitched and she broke away from his eyes. “Was it your babe?”

He looked as though he was about to say something else when he spoke. “Yes, the babe was mine.”

She stood now and paced in front of him. “How could you do such a thing? You raped her? You made her pregnant. And you still continued to act with John?”

“He had Catherine,” Royce forced out from between clenched teeth. “What else could I do? I thought the worst was over, I would be good to Emalie as her husband, I could make this unholy alliance work and still save Catherine from his evil.”

“There is more to this sordid tale. Tell me the rest so we might end this.” She was repulsed by the evil he had done.

“We had everything arranged. John had paid the bishop handsomely to decide in our behalf. But Emalie’s husband was a surprise. He would neither be bought nor acquiesce. He challenged me to combat to decide the fate of the countess and her child.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I should have since I was the better fighter. And since John increased my need to win by telling me of Catherine and how he would keep her if I died. He told me such sickening details of things she had already seen that I knew I must win. She could not endure such horrors because of my weaknesses.”

He stopped and she could feel his pain welling up. As much as she wanted to hate him, she could not. Once caught by John’s evil, there was no easy way out from it. His sister must have suffered so much while his prisoner.

“She still lives? Your sister?” Anne remembered that he had mentioned her once.

He took in a breath and let it out, his voice was shaking as he spoke now. “Aye. John underestimated Christian of Langiers. John did not plan on him accepting a dishonored bride and he did not expect him to fight with all means at his disposal. And he did not expect him to win.”

“And he won? How?”

“He was a man of honor. He learned of Catherine and sent his men for her. They freed her from John before we fought. During the fight, he told me that only through my death could she and Emalie be safe. At first I did not want to believe that something as simple as my death could free them both, but he swore for their safety. Then as the battle went on, he told me again that he had Catherine, that she was safe from John.”

“Could you believe him?”

“I had to take that chance. As I said, Emalie’s husband, the earl, had shown himself to be honorable to her, accepting her pregnancy even though he knew she did not carry his child. When the opportunity presented itself, I gave him the opening he needed to kill me. I knew my death would at least protect my sister.”

“But you did not die.”

“Nay. He knocked me to the ground and I felt the slash of the sword as it went in. I waited for the twisting of the blade that would have finished me.” He touched the scar as he spoke. “His words told me I was dead. There was so much blood from injuries to both of us that he was able to make it look as though he had killed me.”

Royce, or William, took another deep breath. She saw the sweat on his brow and that his hands shook as he relived the battle and his death. She sat back down at his side and waited for him to explain what brought him to Silloth.

“I was told later that John stalked off the field furious at this lost opportunity. The earl’s man arranged for me and Catherine to be placed at a nearby convent to be cared for. When I had healed enough, I left.”

“And Catherine? Was she safe?”

“The earl had saved her body, but not her mind.” His voice and breath caught and he sobbed out his answer. “Her mind dwells someplace else. The sisters there said she had seen such horrors that her mind fled from them. She lives, but she…”

She had remained detached, resisted the sorrow of his story until that moment. His anguish and torment over his sister’s punishment in his stead and for the terrible acts he’d committed poured out of him and she held him in her arms, letting him gain some measure of comfort after all this time. Anne had never seen a man cry and this tore her apart.

“Because of me,” he cried out. “Because I was weak and I was evil. Because of my actions and mistakes, she will suffer always. I should have died that day,” he gasped. “It would have been less painful than living with the knowledge of what I did to her and to so many others.”

Several minutes passed and they sat without speaking. She cried silently with him for all the sins he had committed and for all that he had lost as a result. Surely God in his mercy had forgiven him? Finally he quieted and sat back against the wall. Dragging his sleeve over his face, he took another deep breath and regained control over himself.

“So, for three years I have not seen her. I left Harbridge and even England for a short while, fighting wherever I could find someone to pay me. I would send back whatever I could through a monk or a traveler visiting the Gilbertine convents across England. I tried to die so many times that I’ve lost count of them, but it would seem that my punishment is to live with the knowledge of what I have done.”

“And then you found Silloth?” He had found a true sanctuary there, as she had.

“I was drifting at that time. I avoided any place I had visited with John or in my younger days. I came upon an unfair fight between some outlaws and a nobleman, although Orrick was holding his own for a while. When they took advantage of his injury, I stepped in. I did not see their third companion and ended up in worse shape than Orrick.”

“The scar on your back is from that fight?” She remembered seeing it when he undressed the first time, after they fell into the stream, and could almost feel it now under her fingertips. It ran the length of his back.

“Aye. Margaret had sent out a search party looking for him and they brought both of us to her. She stitched me back together and offered me a place in their household for saving Orrick.”

“Sanctuary,” she whispered. And a place where he could do penance for his sins. Three years of penance, giving up all comforts and simply existing.

“They asked no questions of me or about my past, which suited me well. I told them I could promise them nothing, but an honest effort for a place at their board. They agreed and you know the rest.”

He stood and took her by the arms, lifting her onto her feet before him. “I do not expect forgiveness from you, Anne, but the fault lies within me. I did not protect Catherine in life, but with me dead, Emalie’s husband, the earl, continues as he pledged. She is cared for and hidden from John and his vin dictive actions. So long as he thinks me dead, she is worthless to him. If William de Severin lives, she becomes his target once more.”

“So William must remain dead and buried?” She understood now why he could not return with her. He nodded. “And Royce of Silloth?”

“Must live out his life without attracting any untoward attention. He stays in that little corner of England where royalty never treads. And when I found out for certain who you were, I knew it was over. The love you brought me, the love I did not deserve, could not be. You are the daughter of a duke and I cannot offer you anything unless I take my place as the son of an ancient and noble family from Anjou. And I cannot take that place without endangering Catherine.”

She never thought she would welcome his kiss again, but when he touched his lips to hers, she drank him in, accepting his love for one final time. Her heart knew this was their true farewell and that they would never have this again. Anne felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and knew ’twas over.

She reached up to touch his cheek, but he turned and kissed the inside of her wrist as he had so many times before. Then, before she broke down completely, she had to ask him one more thing.

“This was not about my barrenness?”

“It was never about you, Isabel. ’Twas never a failure in you. ’Twas always about mine. And falling in love with you was a weakness on my part since I knew from the start that no good woman would have me once she knew about my past.”

She nodded. “Goodbye then, Royce.”

“Goodbye, Isabel.”