When Love Awaits(31)

“Henry can be disappointed once in a while.”

“No, my lord, truly, I will control my nerves.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. And the worst that will happen is that my old rash will reappear. It used to whenever I went to court as a child.”

“That might not be so bad.” He grinned. “Then I won’t have to worry that every knight in the kingdom is being smitten by you.”

She shrugged. “I have outgrown my nervous rashes, so it will not happen.”

Rolfe frowned. “Leonie, you had a rash on the day we married.”

“Of course, my lord,” she replied dryly.

“You mean you did not have a rash?”

Her eyes flashed. “You know why I was veiled. I do not wish to speak of it.”

Rolfe stared incredulously as she got up and stalked angrily to the door. Did she really think he understood?

“Leonie!”

She turned only long enough to say furiously, “I will not speak of it! Now, stir yourself, my lord, or we will not reach London before nightfall.”

She slammed the door, leaving Rolfe more bewildered than he had ever been in his life.





Chapter 31




BECAUSE Leonie had been confined so long at Pershwick and then at Crewel, she was fascinated by the journey to London, whereas Rolfe had traveled through France and England for so many years that he barely bothered looking around, leaving the enjoyment of the journey to her.

They passed through villages she hadn’t seen in years, and she gazed hungrily at everything, from the mundane sights of peasants working their masters’ fields to beautifully gowned ladies on horseback traveling with their guards. She was glad there was no older woman with her to scold, for she knew she ought not to be staring so avidly at everything around her. But she was enjoying herself tremendously, and she didn’t give a hoot for convention most of the time as it was, she reminded herself.

They passed through a village just as the bells were ringing for Sixtus, and the midafternoon quiet touched Leonie’s memory, bringing back the times she had finished with her lessons and been taken to her parents by her maid. From three until four o’clock was a sacred hour, when the three of them talked and, if the weather permitted, walked in the forest together. Nobody was ever allowed to intrude on their hour together.

With her mother’s death, all of that peace, those joyous times, were swept away forever. Damn her father, she thought. Why hadn’t he taken care of her after her mother’s death? Why had he been so weak? In his place, she would have forced herself to rise above grief.

Leonie shook herself. When would she ever learn not to think about her father? The few moments she indulged in would cause a day or more of brooding unhappiness, she had learned that much—and she had enough to contend with in her present circumstances without grieving over her past.

She turned again to look around her, reminding herself to enjoy this treat because London was not, she feared, going to offer much enjoyment.

There were more than a hundred parishes in London, each with its own church, and the hundred church spires rising above the city walls was an awesome sight. Leonie well remembered her first journey to London as a child, and the most outstanding building seen from a great distance—Saint Paul’s Cathedral, which rose high over the city, commanding with its mighty roofs and bays and Gothic arches.

The Palatine Castle, nearly a century old, was another formidable stone structure in a city built mostly of one-story frame houses. It was the only royal palace within the old Roman walls of the city, and it was where Leonie and Rolfe would be staying.

Leonie was glad. The king was in residence at Westminster Hall, which was outside the city, so she hoped to see Henry only once. She was to be presented to him the day after their arrival. Rolfe, however, would be seeing him on the evening they reached London.

As if Leonie were not anxious enough over meeting King Henry, London itself intimidated her. It was a full square mile of raucous cosmopolitan congestion, dedicated mainly to trade. There were mercers, grocers, fishmongers with their tally-sticks, every kind of merchant. The river Thames was clogged with wool barges and riverboatmen. And all of this noise and bustle was within the walls of London, whereas just outside those walls were plowed fields and vast forests.

As soon as she caught sight of Palatine Castle, Leonie remembered the terribly crowded conditions at court. She had been there when it was filled with servants, lords and their ladies, and the parasites who always stayed close to power, as well as dancers, gamesters, mountebanks, jugglers, even prostitutes and pimps—all of whom followed the king wherever he went.

She prayed that most of Henry’s court would be staying with him at Westminster Hall and that she would not have to share quarters with others at the city palace.

What awaited her at the Palatine Castle was not nearly as bad as she had feared. Rolfe did not stay to see her settled, but she had known he would have to leave. He left Sir Piers and half of his twenty men-at-arms with her. Richard Amyas and the other ten men went with Rolfe. Sir Piers and Sir Richard were the only knights accompanying them to London, Sir Piers because Rolfe wanted him to guard Leonie when he was away from her, and Sir Richard because the young man was thrilled by court life.

Sir Thorpe had been left in charge of the siege of Warling Keep, and Leonie found herself missing him. She got along well with young Richard, but she did not like Piers at all. An older man, he would not unbend. She felt that he disliked her, tolerating her only for Rolfe’s sake. Yet he did his duty well, scowling blackly at any man who even looked Leonie’s way as they crossed the great hall of Palatine Castle.

Leonie was given a small turret room to share with Wilda and Mildred. Rolfe and Damian, when they returned, would have to sleep in the same room. But at least there would be no strangers, Leonie told herself, relieved.

It was very late when Rolfe returned from Westminster Hall. Leonie was in bed, a candle burning as she lay listening to Mildred’s excited chatter. The maid had seen a great deal of the castle, and had met an attractive guard, whom she planned to meet later that night when his duty ended. Wilda decided not to remain in the turret room, but to stay with a handsome knight she had met that afternoon.

Leonie chastised both maids, more than a little shocked, but she did not have the heart to deny them what they wanted, so she didn’t forbid them their pleasures.

When Leonie heard Rolfe’s voice shouting for her from a great distance, she hurried into her robe. Mildred was frightened of Rolfe, and Leonie didn’t want to ask her to go to him.

“What can be wrong, my lady? He—he does not sound right.”

Leonie frowned, hearing another bellow. “He is going to wake the whole castle!”

She ran out of the room to the top of the stairs. A wall sconce was lit, but it cast only gloomy shadows down the stairway. She heard her husband before she was able to see him there at the bottom, being supported by Richard Amyas. Both men were swaying, holding on to each other.

Rolfe’s voice boomed again, monstrously loud as it resounded off the stone walls. “Leonie!” To Richard, he said, “If she is not here, I will tear this place—”

“I am here, my lord,” Leonie called.

They looked up, Richard grinning sheepishly, Rolfe happily. Leonie was reminded of the only other time she had seen her husband drunk, the day he was told of her beating. She had rather liked the idea that the knowledge had led him to drink.

“Will you tell me why there must be so much noise at this hour?” Leonie asked, and Rolfe held up a hand for silence, saying to Richard, “Find your room, my friend. My lady will see to me now.”

“How?” Leonie called to him. “I cannot support your weight up these stairs.” Was he truly too drunk to navigate?

“I can walk, dearling. You come down and lead the way, though.”

Leonie sighed as Richard bowed to her and left, unsteady but moving in the right direction. When Richard let go of him, Rolfe leaned against the wall for support.

“This is not wise, my lord,” Leonie said irritably as she ran down the stairs. She grabbed his arm and put it around her shoulder. “We will both fall down the stairs.”

He chuckled. “You are no doubt under the misconception that I have had too much to drink. Let me assure you I have not. It was only that Henry was in a talkative mood and insisted I drink with him.”

“And of course you could not refuse the king,” she said sarcastically, sighing. “But surely he had an available bed. You should have stayed there, my lord, instead of riding back here. You could have broken your neck—not unheard of with those who imbibe too much.”

She began to pull him up the stairs, but he yanked her back. “Do not scold, dearling. I do not feel drunk, therefore I am not. And I could not stay there because you are here.”

She laughed. “Would that you could ride your horse up these stairs.”

“Think I cannot climb the stairs?” he growled, and with that he grabbed her hand and ran up the stairs, dragging her behind him until they reached the top. Then he grinned at her.

“That was foolish, my lord,” Leonie said, panting.

“Do not sulk, dearling.”

“Oh!”

Exasperated, she jerked her hand away, but Rolfe threw his arm around her shoulder again, taking a few unsteady steps, leaning heavily on her. He chuckled when she mumbled a choice curse.