Queen Of Knights Read online

  "I would feel remiss in my oath and duty if I were not with you," James admitted at last.

  "I must do this alone," Gwendolyn told him. "Bring my clothing."

  An hour later, Gwendolyn, dressed again in the Saxon tunic and mantle, rode to the gate of Kildrake Castle, the home she had not seen for almost two years.

  The gate opened to let her through, and by the time she had dismounted and given her horse over to a groom, Hughes was striding across the inner keep.

  He stopped a foot from her, staring at Gwendolyn. "What brings you here?"

  "Is it not enough for a granddaughter to seek out her family?"

  "Yes," Hughes replied in a tight voice. Then he reached out to her and pulled her close. He kissed her firmly on the cheek before releasing her, only to hold her an arm's distance away and look at her closely.

  "You have become even more beautiful."

  "And you are the same as ever."

  "No, I am starting to feel my age. I am cursed to live a long life and suffer with every cold day."

  "Do not play the ancient with me; it ill suits you," Gwendolyn said half seriously. In the time since she had married Miles and left Kildrake, she saw that the years had begun to show on her grandfather. It saddened her, but she pushed aside the thought and smiled. "Perhaps we can talk inside. I must be getting as old as you, for the cold is seeping into my bones."

  Hughes laughed at her words and escorted her into the walls of Kildrake Castle, calling out to the servants to have her old bedchamber prepared.

  Hughes brought Gwendolyn to the small hall, the warm room where he spent many of the cold winter days. A fire burned cheerfully, and two of his dogs lay sleeping near its warmth.

  When they were seated, and a servant had brought warm drinks, he turned to Gwendolyn, his sapphire eyes sparkling. "And what mischief has caused you to ride through England unescorted?"

  Gwendolyn took a deep breath and, for the first time in her life, asked her grandfather a special question. "Do you remember my mother's hardship, and my conception?" She watched her grandfather's ruddy complexion pale and waited, her breath held, until the color returned to his cheeks.

  "Aye," he whispered.

  "Then you know I am different from others?"

  "I have always known it, Gwendolyn, but like most men, I pretended it had not happened. I dismissed everything and accepted the lot of a shamed father."

  "But you know the truth?"

  "I know what I must believe. Your mother was the gentlest woman I have ever known, and her life was but a shadow of what it should have been."

  Gwendolyn felt his words wrench her heart, and realized suddenly how deeply he had been hurt. She wanted to reach out to him, but could not. There was still a barrier between them, a wall that had been built many years before.

  "I am sorry for the pain and disappointments, but it was something that was meant to be. Do not feel that my mother's life was not a good one. It was. She was happier than you or anyone could have ever believed. Grandfather," she whispered, calling him by his true title as she had so rarely done before. "Gwyneth never once regretted what happened, and never once did she speak anything but kind words for you." Tears came to Gwendolyn unbidden, and she let them flow freely.

  She saw Hughes's eyes become distant for a moment, before they fastened on hers. "I have never spoken to a soul about what happened to your mother and have never believed what was foretold. Was it the truth?"

  "I do not know what the truth is. I am different than other women, yet I am the same. I feel love, desire, pain, all things that others feel. Yet there is something else within me; something so mighty that it drives me beyond what others seek. That is what is different about me."

  "When you were wed to your husband, I tried to tell him of you, but I could not."

  "The morning after we were wed, I told him of my birth, and of my mother and father."

  "And he did not think you mad? He did not seek to annul your vows?"

  "Our love is strong; it stands powerfully in the midst of doubt. No, Grandfather, he did not think me mad."

  "Why have you come to tell me of these things? For if I am not mistaken, this is not the reason for your visit."

  "You are not mistaken. I have come to speak with you about this, to tell you of something, and to ask your advice."

  "But you had need to clarify my own feelings first?"

  "Yes. What I must tell you is hard to believe. Only you, who know about me, could understand." Gwendolyn paused, waiting for Hughes to respond. But he did not; he merely waited for Gwendolyn to continue.

  "I must go to the Holy Land." Still there was no response from her grandfather. "Miles has been taken prisoner by Saladin. He is held without ransom."

  "You have received word?"

  "It happened a fortnight ago. I was granted a vision and witnessed the battle."

  "Madness!" muttered Hughes, but his eyes did not reflect the word.

  "By Christmas, Miles's squire, Arthur, will arrive by ship at Portsmouth. He will bring news of this to me. I would meet him there, and return with him to the Holy Land."

  "And what would you do there? Put on maille and fight the Saracens? Your presence in Palestine would do nothing to free your husband."

  "Grandfather, my presence in the Holy Land will free Miles. I will have Sir Eldwin with me. We will find a way."

  "Would that it were possible. And even so, your reputation would be ruined. No woman goes with an army lest she is but a whore. I will not have you so looked upon, nor would your husband."

  "My reputation is nothing without my husband! I have come to ask your advice, not to listen to your moralistic views!"

  Hughes gazed at the anger-filled eyes of his granddaughter and held himself in check. For too many years he had pushed aside his memory of her, her mother, and his wife, her grandmother. All the women of Kildrake had a certain pride and carriage, and none of them had ever bent under his willful thumb. Perhaps for that reason he had always respected and loved them. Nothing they could do had ever brought real shame into his mind.

  "What do you plan?"

  "That is why I am here. I need your help and advice:'

  "First tell me about this knight of yours, Sir Eldwin."

  "What do you wish to know?"

  "I have heard two stories. One is that he was a ward of the Earl of Radstock, Miles's father. The other that he was a knight of Kildrake and sworn to you. Which is true?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "It does. A man who hides behind a mask is either good or bad. There is nothing in between."

  "Sir Eldwin was of Kildrake, but you knew him not," Gwendolyn admitted.

  "I know all my vassals," Hughes defended.

  "Eldwin is good and you know who he is. It is for that reason he cannot reveal his identity. Trust me, Grandfather, you would not like to know the knight's true identity."

  "And now you presume to know my mind?"

  "I cannot help it. We are of the same blood."

  "I heard of his victory over Morgan. And I heard the story of his silver-dipped sword," Hughes told her, his eyes never wavering from hers.

  "They say it was longer than most, and wider, too. I was told it had a plain hilt, with perfectly shaped quillons. About so wide," he said as he held his hands a foot apart.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "I have seen that shape before, Gwendolyn, impressed upon the skin of your mother's belly. That is the truth, is it not?"

  "Yes."

  Gwendolyn saw the suspicion cover his face and knew she had to stop him before he spoke. "Will you help me?"

  Hughes stared at her, trying to hold back his mind from releasing the knowledge he had suddenly found. The words of the Druid priestess, uttered almost twenty years ago, filled his mind, telling him again what he had once shut out. A moment later he nodded his head. And he saw in Gwendolyn's expression that she knew he had reasoned out the identity of Sir Eldwin.

  "I do not know why this has co
me to pass, but I see that nothing I can say will deter you. I am against it, but I yield to your request. Here is what must be done," he said, as he outlined everything she would have to do.

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  Gwendolyn spent the night within the walls of Kildrake Castle, and the next day rode with her grandfather along the moors that she had loved. The feelings that they had shared between them had changed since her arrival yesterday, and when it was time to leave Kildrake, she did so with a heavy heart. She had finally found her grandfather's love and the openness of his heart that her mother had always spoken of.

  When she rode away, she carried with her a small fortune.

  Her grandfather had given her enough gold to outfit a contingent of knights, hire a ship, and pay the high expenses needed to avoid a slow journey. When she left England, she would sail directly to Cypress and not stop in Sicily. The journey to the Holy Land would be a swift one, because Hughes himself would make sure of that.

  Hughes would meet her in Portsmouth, with more knights to join Richard's army. There, he would give the ship's captain his orders and make sure nothing amiss would happen. There were ways of dealing with the men who plied ships, especially when they carried a beautiful woman.

  On the fourteenth night after she had left Radstock, Gwendolyn returned through the hidden passageway and entered her private chamber. Valkyrie's cry of greeting echoed loudly and woke Roweena from her sleep.

  Roweena jumped from the bed and ran to Gwendolyn, her face both animated and fearful. "Praise be that you've returned in time."

  "In time?"

  "My lady, Prince John will arrive in Radstock on the morrow. He sent word ahead."

  "Why?" Gwendolyn asked, taken back by this new development.

  "I know not, but he will arrive tomorrow, that is for certain."

  "Damn!" Gwendolyn spat. Turning to James, she began to issue orders. "The castle must be made ready for the prince."

  "It is done," Roweena said. Suddenly Gwendolyn relaxed. But her mind still churned in its search for a reason for this untimely visit of Prince John.

  Chapter Nineteen

  WHAT could he want?

  Gwendolyn asked herself the same question for the hundredth time since hearing the news. When Richard left on the crusade, he had entrusted England to be governed under the joint regency of Hugh Puiset of Durham and William Longchamp of Ely. Yet, before he had even sailed from Marseilles, he had changed his decree, naming Longchamp sole regent.

  Richard had also richly gifted John with lands and earldoms, securing from him a pledge to stay away from England for three years. But nothing had come about in the way Richard had planned; instead, political intrigue was the rule of the day.

  The land was torn with dissension. The nobles felt restrained by Longchamp and were almost in open rebellion of his rule. This was partially due to Longchamp's anti-English prejudices, and partially because Longchamp was holding up Arthur, the son of Richard's brother Geoffrey, as the rightful heir to England's throne.

  Word of Longchamp's activities brought John's return to England. Immediately upon his arrival, he cultivated the barons and dukes to his banner, getting each of them to swear allegiance to him as rightful successor to Richard.

  Gwendolyn had been following the news of John's fight with Longchamp for many months and had learned of Eleanor's decision to side with her son in this instance; although it was well known that Richard was her favorite.

  Gwendolyn wisely discerned that Eleanor's actions were but a method of keeping England from open rebellion until Richard could return home to settle the disputes and control the warring factions.

  But no matter what was happening, Gwendolyn did not like the fact that John was coming to Radstock Castle. He would want fealty sworn to him, or he would take the castle as he had so many others in the past months.

  Looking down from the upper battlement of Radstock Castle, Gwendolyn saw the activity in the inner keep was slowing and knew that everything would be in readiness for John's arrival. She looked eastward and saw the line of horses looming closer. They had crested the last hill and were now moving steadily toward the castle.

  An hour later, Gwendolyn left her chamber in a dress befitting her station as Lady of Radstock. She waited within the inner keep until John had dismounted and then went to her knee before him.

  "Rise, Lady Delong," he ordered, and Gwendolyn stood before the man whose harsh hand was felt over the length of England.

  "We bid you welcome, my lord prince."

  “And we accept, gladly. It has been a chilled journey, but one of necessity."

  "Will you be honoring us long?" Gwendolyn did not like the way the prince was staring at her, even though she had purposely worn a modestly cut tunic. She had heard the stories of John's unhealthy appetites and did not want his hunger to stray to her.

  "Only the night. I must reach Cardiff in three days." Relieved, yet still on guard, Gwendolyn issued orders to have John's men and horses seen to. After which, Gwendolyn graciously led John into the castle, and to the chamber prepared for him.

  "It must be hard, having your husband so far away," John said when he stood at the threshold of his chamber.

  "Many things in life are difficult, my lord."

  "'Tis true, Lady Gwendolyn. There is much I would discuss with you, but first I need relieve myself and change out of these dirty garments. We shall talk over the evening meal. Please wear something in white; the color is soothing to my eyes."

  Gwendolyn left John, holding back her anger in the face of his words. She yearned to ask who he thought himself to be. This was her home, and no one, save Miles, had the right to speak to her as he had. The lust she had seen in his eyes had also angered her, but she knew she must be careful.

  The great hall had been prepared, and two hours after darkness fell, the hall roared with life. Twenty of John's knights sat at the table, intermingled with twenty of Radstock's own. Platter upon platter of food was served while musicians played high upon the scaffolding. At the High Table sat only Gwendolyn and John, attended by Roweena and John's squire.

  Gwendolyn, although she detested the thought, knew she had to accede to John's wishes and had worn a Norman dress with a white underskirt. The turquoise overdress had a full bodice that reached to her neck, but the dress's under- skirt and long billowing sleeves were pure white. As was her custom, she wore the Saracen dagger on a golden rope. On her head she wore a simple woman's coif-de-maille that had not one jewel in it, and which blended nicely with her hair.

  Since they had sat for the meal, John had continually drained goblet upon goblet of wine, and before the meal was half done, Gwendolyn saw he was well on the way to becoming drunk.

  "Why do you wear that bauble?" John asked, leaning toward her and fingering the handle of the dagger lying between her breasts.

  "It was a wedding gift from my husband."

  "A strange gift," John muttered, as he withdrew his hand.

  "It must be lonely to live without a man. Do you not find it so?" His eyes sparkled darkly when he spoke, and Gwendolyn shivered internally.

  "It is lonely only when there is no love between a husband and wife, and then it matters not if they are together or apart."

  "And you love your husband, and therefore are not lonely?"

  "I carry him always within my mind and heart."

  "But a cold bed is not a pleasant thing."

  "Surely you did not travel all this way to discuss my empty bed. What is it that you have come to Radstock for?" Gwendolyn asked in an effort to change the subject.

  John stared at her. His fingers ran through his short beard, and he shook his head. "Fear not, Lady Gwendolyn; you are far from what I consider desirable in a woman. Your virtue is safe with me."

  "My lord, I know not what you mean. My virtue has never been questioned, nor has the ability of my knights to protect me ever been put to so foolhardy a test," Gwendolyn replied, but her eyes turned cold and challenging as she stared at him.


  John shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "It is time for the nobility of England to stand beside the man who will be the rightful heir to the throne."

  "Heir? My lord, Richard is still young."

  "But he is a fighter. He is unwed and childless. He will not live long. When he dies, England must have a king who is prepared to rule her properly. A king who will stay with his country and not go chasing blood and dreams."

  "And you would be this king?"

  "It is my right! I am the successor to the throne. Even my mother has so stated. Lady Gwendolyn, in the absence of the Earl of Radstock, I ask you to declare allegiance to me."

  "My lord.....” She had guessed Prince John might make such a demand, yet she was unprepared for this direct request and forced her mind to work quickly.

  "I am but a woman. It must be Miles who gives his backing."

  "He is half a world away, following a king who cares little for his lands. Nay, Lady Gwendolyn, if the earl does not survive the crusade, the lands will be yours. I will consider your pledge to me binding upon Radstock."

  "My husband will return!"

  "I pray so, Madame, but for now, I need your support. Give me your pledge!" John's voice turned hard when he spoke, and his eyes bored into Gwendolyn's. His unvoiced threat was as clear as her earlier one had been to him.

  Taking great care, Gwendolyn answered. "I can only give you my pledge conditionally, to be reaffirmed by the earl when he returns."

  "I will accept that. Lady Gwendolyn, will it not be better to be ruled by a man who will live in his country, rather than one who thinks Normandy to be the capital of England?"

  "Is that what you have promised the others? Do you think young Arthur would rule from Aquitaine?"

  "Arthur will never rule! I have pledged that for the first time since William conquered England, England will have a king who will live in his kingdom. Is that not desirable?"

  "I do not know. I am but a simple woman, not given to intrigue."

  "You, Lady Gwendolyn, are far from a simple woman. I will accept your conditional pledge for my backing."

  Gradually, with their business concluded, the talk turned to general things, and the tension that had flowed between them eased. Soon, John succumbed to the call of the wine, and was lost in drunken gestures that all but Gwendolyn ignored.