“Did you discover any of his plans for Gytha?” Thayer asked, briefly considering sending Gytha away, then deciding it was better if she knew what she faced, whatever threat was in the wind.
“Oh, that was plain enough,” Roger answered. “Pickney intends the thwarted marriage between your lady and Robert to go on. That would secure his grip on Saitun Manor and gain him this holding as well.”
“And he expects her family to say nothing, to do nothing?”
“He will hold Gytha. It should prove protection enough.”
“Aye—aye, it would. The Raouilles would feel their hands tied. No matter what suspicions they held, they would dare not act for fear of bringing harm to her. Do I judge that right?” he asked Gytha.
“Fully. There would at least be a great deal of time before, driven by desperation mayhap, they acted.”
“True, there could come a time when they felt they had no more to lose.” Thayer shook his head. “I cannot see how the man expects to get away with all this. At first, aye. No questions were raised as to William’s death or mine. But now he boldly attacks me. He will have to take Gytha by force. There will be an outcry.
“I think,” Roger said, “he has been made captive by his own plots. It will be played through to the end. I see no way to stop it now. If naught else, you would forever need to watch your back. Pickney has shown he cannot be trusted. You must treat him as an enemy.”
“True. But are you certain he means no harm to Gytha? That he does not plan her murder as well?”
“Not now.” Roger shrugged. “This does not mean she will not be harmed. She has been at hand in every attack. Pickney may wish her alive, but he takes little care.”
“Aye. Well, I must serve the king for now. I think you are right, Roger, in feeling Pickney will back off while we are at court. We shall use the time to try and hobble the man.”
“How can you do that?” Gytha asked.
“That, I fear, will take a great deal of thought.” Thayer took a slow drink of ale. “Still, we will be safe at court.”
When Gytha finally left the men, she thought about Thayer’s words. She did not really picture the king’s court as a safe haven. While it was true that she had never attended court, she had heard enough gossip and rumor to suspect that court could provide a great many dangers of its own making. Intrigue and treachery were said to be rampant. She wondered if it was not the perfect place for Charles Pickney to play out his plots and schemes. But then she shook that thought away. Thayer knew far more of the world than she did. If he felt Charles Pickney would balk at pursuing them in the king’s own court, she would value that judgment.
Rapping softly at Margaret’s bedchamber door, Gytha obeyed the raspy command to enter. The bright, welcoming look on Margaret’s face faded a little when she stepped inside, quietly shutting the door after herself. It took Gytha a moment to realize why that should be. She grinned as she went to sit on the edge of Margaret’s bed.
“Roger is busy plotting plots to bedevil Pickney’s plots. He will, no doubt, visit you again soon.”
Although she blushed faintly at the mention of Roger, Margaret frowned. “What is this of plots?”
As succinctly as she could, Gytha told her all she had just learned. “’Tis so hard to believe.”
“Pickney suffers the sickness of blind greed. ’Tis not such a rare disease, sad to say. Thayer is right. ’Tis hard to see how the man thinks he can do all this yet suffer no penalty. He must be just a little bit mad.” Margaret began to cough.
As she helped Margaret sip some mead to ease the scratch in her throat, Gytha sighed. “At the moment, I would prefer it if he was just a little bit dead, may God forgive me.”
“I am sure He will.” Margaret sagged against the pillows as Gytha set the goblet of mead back on the table and sat down again. “The man seeks to kill your husband and, no doubt, you in time. ’Tis good Thayer is such a skilled fighter.”
“Aye, he is that, but if the man continues to send two or three or more men against him every time, even that great skill may not be enough. I am eaten alive with fear for Thayer.”
“You love the man.”
“Aye, I do.”
“So, no more confusion. And I think I know when the confusion ended. When he was wounded.”
“You look so smug, I should say nay just to spite you.” She laughed briefly with Margaret. “Aye, that was when I knew. Revelation can be most uncomfortable,” she drawled and Margaret grinned. “I acted as if he had lost a limb.” Grimacing as she recalled how she had acted, she shook her head. “At least I did not fail in tending to his wound for all I drowned him in weak, foolish tears.”
“And what did he say when you told him how you feel?” Seeing the look that fleetingly passed over Gytha’s face, Margaret sighed. “Just why have you said nothing to the man?”
“I would like to keep it to myself for a while,” Gytha muttered. Then, seeing Margaret’s look of unreserved disbelief, she rose to pace the room. “I feel certain he will not respond in kind, and I know how deeply that will cut me. For a while, I seek to avoid that pain. You can hardly fault me for that.”
“Nay, but you should be wary. Do not let that fear settle too deeply, or you may hold your tongue when it is time to speak out.”
“I know, and I will not be cautious to the point of stupidity. Also, there is Elizabeth.”
