“What about this?” Alice lifted a fold of midnight blue wool. “And this for an undershift?”
The linen was so fine that when she held it to the candlelight the cloth became almost invisible.
Lily smiled. “Perfect!”
She threw herself into the diversion. Anything to put Radulf from her mind, for a little time at least. Perhaps, when she allowed herself to remember, he would already be striding through the doorway.
Safe.
“What does Lord Radulf say to that?”
As he spoke, William leaned forward in his chair. His body was tense and still, and his very stillness was so uncharacteristic that it made the two men before him edgy. Lord Kenton, small and bejeweled, his narrow, handsome face gray with grief and fatigue. And Radulf, big, dressed for battle, his black eyes full of a cold anger that had already sent William’s servants cowering.
The court fell mute as he answered, everyone straining to hear the low, husky voice.
“I say Lady Anna was nothing to me but a memory. Years ago she was wed to my father, but since then I have not seen her. Not until the night of my wedding, when she spoke to me and my wife.”
“She was your whore.” Kenton cut in angrily, his voice higher, shriller. “She told me so. She was your whore in the past, and when you came to York you wanted her again. She said you did not care for your wife—the marriage was forced upon you. You wanted my Anna.”
“‘Your Anna’ was lying.” Radulf sounded uunruffled but the blood pounded through his head, making it throb. His shoulder was aching like the devil, but he dared not show the slightest weakness before these crows. It was his strength, and the legends of it, that kept him safe.
“Why should she lie?” Kenton’s pale eyes were blazing. “She had nothing to gain from it.”
“Your jealousy,” Radulf replied mildly. “She played the same tricks upon my father, amusing herself by choosing favorites among the men of the household, driving him to greater and greater folly to please her. She wanted you to win her back, Kenton.”
“Bah!” He waved a hand. The jewels on his fingers sparkled richly in the light of the tall candles.
“I have already told my story,” Radulf went on calmly, speaking to the king. “I met with her because her behavior was upsetting my wife. I told her not to bother me again or I would go to her husband and disclose to him her faithlessness. I knew Kenton loved her and so did she, but she was not fool enough to believe he would keep forgiving her over and over. There comes a point where the wine of forgiveness is all drunk, and only dregs remain in the bottom of the cup. Maybe she had reached that point. My father did.”
“What do you know of—” Kenton began scathingly, but William held up his hand for silence. Reluctantly, twitching his richly embroidered tunic, Kenton held back the angry words bubbling in his throat.
William stroked his clean-shaven chin, eyes fixed upon the imposing figure of his Sword.
“And Lady Anna took your advice in good part, Radulf?”
Radulf snorted a laugh. “No, sire, she did not! She was angry and rode off. I did not see her again. I was only glad that she had gone. I returned to the inn with my men.”
Kenton spun to face him, unable to contain his fury a moment longer. “You followed her and slew her! Because she would not give in to your lustful demands! She loved you once, Radulf, and you could not let her go.”
Radulf ground his teeth. “In God’s name, you have seen my wife! If I have ‘lustful demands,’ do you not think she can more than adequately meet them?”
William smiled, bowing his head to hide it, but Lord Kenton saw. He glared savagely from one to the other. “I see I will get no fair hearing here. It is well known the king and Radulf are more like brothers than master and subject.”
William stood up. His height, though not as great as Radulf’s, was imposing enough. To his credit, Kenton stood his ground, although it was clear he was half regretting his outburst.
“I will forgive you those remarks,” William said softly, almost gently, his eyes steely. “I understand your grief, Kenton. I, too, have a wife I treasure. You have spoken what is in your heart and mind, and I have listened. Depend upon me, I will not rest until I have found your wife’s murderer. However . . . I do not believe he is to be found here.”
Lord Kenton shot Radulf a bitter and malevolent glance. Briefly, he struggled with words he knew were better left unsaid in the king’s presence. When he spoke, his voice was harsh with strain. “I thank you, sire. You will understand if I continue to pursue my wife’s destroyer in my own time . . . in my own way.” Before the king could answer, he turned and walked quickly from the great hall.
William slapped a hand hard on the arm of his chair, and glared at Radulf’s impassive face. “You have placed me in a difficult position, Radulf,” he said softly. “I hope you appreciate it.”
Radulf bowed his head. “I do, sire, and am grateful for your trust in me.”
William nodded, watchful and a trifle sullen.
“Kenton is a powerful man—almost as powerful as you, Radulf—and he has equally strong friends. England has only just found peace. I do not want two of my most important barons at each other’s throats.”
“I have no grievance against Lord Kenton.”
