it atop the hand that clenched the sword hilt.
"William," he beseeched, "love her. You have become one flesh in the eyes of God."
The pain in William's eyes died as quickly as a fire on winter ice. With cold calculation, he responded, "Nay. I will love Greneforde and give my body's strength to its nourishment." His eyes as cold and lifeless as hammered steel, he added, "To Greneforde only."
Turning swiftly, he departed as silently as he had come.
* * *
John opened the door that entered on the kitchen. The fire had been banked for the night, and the capacious room was as tidy as Lady Cathryn liked it to be. John sighed wearily. It had been a long and busy day. First the messenger from King Henry and then the arrival of the man who would take charge of both Greneforde and Lady Cathryn. The wedding feast had been prepared in the midst of frantic cleaning, and then good time spent in surreptiously studying the men in William's service while delaying the presentation of the meal. It had been a full day. Yet not one eye was closed at this late hour, and surely they all knew that dawn came early enough.
John was not surprised that they were not abed, despite the lateness of the hour. In truth, he would have been more than a little disappointed if even one snore had greeted his arrival. And now that he had left the great hall, they turned questioning eyes to his, knowing why he had come.
"He knows," was all he said.
Silence greeted that pronouncement, for there was no surprise in it. Indeed, they had been waiting for this moment since William le Brouillard had first crossed into Greneforde's enclosure.
"And now?" Eldon asked for them all.
"And now we see of what mettle Lord William is truly fashioned," John responded quietly.
"What of Lady Cathryn?" Alys asked.
"He has not harmed her," John assured them all.
"Yet," Lan added tersely.
"I do not think it in him to hurt her," John mused aloud.
"Nor do I," Alys added.
"Then he is a rare man," Lan said.
John's head jerked up at that, and he studied Lan before answering, "Aye. It is in my mind that William le Brouillard is a rare man."
"And if he is not?" Lan pressed.
"We shall be here and will stand for her as we are able."
The assembly nodded in agreement. They stood with Lady Cathryn, as they always had and always would, but Greneforde needed a strong lord to guide and protect her. God willing, le Brouillard was that man, but they would stand between Cathryn and her lord if need be, God willing or no. They would allow no harm to befall her, for they had learned the price of passivity, and the price was too dear.
* * *
Across the enclosure, Rowland sat in silence as he polished his weapon. It was a time of contentment for him. William had his land and his wife, and he was happy for him. After so many years of fighting and searching, he deserved this moment of complete victory. Tomorrow would bring fresh trouble in the way of food shortages and rebuilding the village; tonight he could enjoy without shadow.
After that, Rowland's thoughts drifted and he drifted with them, uncaring where they brought him. It was of little matter. His thoughts always brought him to the same place eventually, and he had ceased to fight against them long ago.
William emerged slowly from the far shadows of the hall and crossed the wide floor until he stood just paces from his friend. He had strong need of a friend this night.
Rowland did not look up, did not hesitate in his polishing, but it was with a trace of amusement that he remarked, "Strange for a man to leave his bedchamber on his wedding night."
William gazed into the fire, unwilling to look away from the mesmerizing play of multihued flame.
"What had to be done, is done," he said with brusque simplicity.
Still not looking up from his task, Rowland said, "And with that chore behind you, you find yourself in search of a new one. My shield would welcome the feel of your hand wielding the polishing cloth."
Rowland's words passed
"William," he beseeched, "love her. You have become one flesh in the eyes of God."
The pain in William's eyes died as quickly as a fire on winter ice. With cold calculation, he responded, "Nay. I will love Greneforde and give my body's strength to its nourishment." His eyes as cold and lifeless as hammered steel, he added, "To Greneforde only."
Turning swiftly, he departed as silently as he had come.
* * *
John opened the door that entered on the kitchen. The fire had been banked for the night, and the capacious room was as tidy as Lady Cathryn liked it to be. John sighed wearily. It had been a long and busy day. First the messenger from King Henry and then the arrival of the man who would take charge of both Greneforde and Lady Cathryn. The wedding feast had been prepared in the midst of frantic cleaning, and then good time spent in surreptiously studying the men in William's service while delaying the presentation of the meal. It had been a full day. Yet not one eye was closed at this late hour, and surely they all knew that dawn came early enough.
John was not surprised that they were not abed, despite the lateness of the hour. In truth, he would have been more than a little disappointed if even one snore had greeted his arrival. And now that he had left the great hall, they turned questioning eyes to his, knowing why he had come.
"He knows," was all he said.
Silence greeted that pronouncement, for there was no surprise in it. Indeed, they had been waiting for this moment since William le Brouillard had first crossed into Greneforde's enclosure.
"And now?" Eldon asked for them all.
"And now we see of what mettle Lord William is truly fashioned," John responded quietly.
"What of Lady Cathryn?" Alys asked.
"He has not harmed her," John assured them all.
"Yet," Lan added tersely.
"I do not think it in him to hurt her," John mused aloud.
"Nor do I," Alys added.
"Then he is a rare man," Lan said.
John's head jerked up at that, and he studied Lan before answering, "Aye. It is in my mind that William le Brouillard is a rare man."
"And if he is not?" Lan pressed.
"We shall be here and will stand for her as we are able."
The assembly nodded in agreement. They stood with Lady Cathryn, as they always had and always would, but Greneforde needed a strong lord to guide and protect her. God willing, le Brouillard was that man, but they would stand between Cathryn and her lord if need be, God willing or no. They would allow no harm to befall her, for they had learned the price of passivity, and the price was too dear.
* * *
Across the enclosure, Rowland sat in silence as he polished his weapon. It was a time of contentment for him. William had his land and his wife, and he was happy for him. After so many years of fighting and searching, he deserved this moment of complete victory. Tomorrow would bring fresh trouble in the way of food shortages and rebuilding the village; tonight he could enjoy without shadow.
After that, Rowland's thoughts drifted and he drifted with them, uncaring where they brought him. It was of little matter. His thoughts always brought him to the same place eventually, and he had ceased to fight against them long ago.
William emerged slowly from the far shadows of the hall and crossed the wide floor until he stood just paces from his friend. He had strong need of a friend this night.
Rowland did not look up, did not hesitate in his polishing, but it was with a trace of amusement that he remarked, "Strange for a man to leave his bedchamber on his wedding night."
William gazed into the fire, unwilling to look away from the mesmerizing play of multihued flame.
"What had to be done, is done," he said with brusque simplicity.
Still not looking up from his task, Rowland said, "And with that chore behind you, you find yourself in search of a new one. My shield would welcome the feel of your hand wielding the polishing cloth."
Rowland's words passed
Similar Books
