Mary could not answer, for she could not admit that treachery was afoot as she still owed her loyalty to Malcolm. But dear God, the countess was as certain of the alliance as her son, and neither of them were dim-witted fools. Quite the opposite; they were both extraordinarily astute. What if they were both right, while she was wrong? What then?
Dear Jesus, if it came to marriage, if it truly did, what would she do?
Impatiently the Earl of Northumberland waited for his firstborn. Stephen had not been at the keep when the earl arrived. The father knew the son’s habits. Until the noon meal, he would sit with his steward and attend to administrative matters. After that he would tend what he must personally, whether it be an inspection of a tenant’s holdings or the drilling of his household knights. Rolfe was impatient because he saw Stephen so little. In truth, ever since he had sent him to William I’s court as a hostage so many years ago, their paths seemed destined to diverge instead of come together. When Stephen had been at Court, Rolfe had been forced to remain in the North, warring and securing his borders. When Stephen had returned home, Rolfe had been free to go to Court himself, to protect his interests from those who would see them destroyed.
He sighed. He had few regrets, but that he lacked time to spend with his oldest son was one of them.
Stephen strode into the hall.
Rolfe leapt to his feet, smiling. “Little did I think we would meet next on the threshold of your marriage to a princess,” Rolfe said in greeting.
Stephen’s serious expression vanished. “Rufus has agreed?”
“The King has agreed.”
Stephen’s smile was brilliant. “I owe you much thanks, Father.”
Rolfe felt almost as triumphant. “Rufus had no choice in the end. He must regain Normandy, and he knows it. There were probably many petty factors in his decision, including his current displeasure with Roger Beaufort. Who, by the way, is furious.”
“I have little doubt.” Stephen gestured and his father sat back down, Stephen beside him. “One and all are undoubtedly appalled and shocked at this alliance—including my little bride.” He grimaced slightly.
“A reluctant bride?”
“To say so is to put it mildly.”
“And how did you gain Malcolm’s consent?”
Stephen looked his father directly in the eye. “He could not refuse, not when I handed him his greatest desire. I pledged to see his eldest son upon his throne.”
Rolfe looked at Stephen. “And when I am dead, when Rufus asks you to support him in his quest to place Duncan—whom he has chosen—upon the throne, how will you act?”
“I am ever his loyal vassal,” Stephen said coolly. “No matter how I despise him.”
It was the first time Stephen had ever openly revealed his antagonistic feelings for their King, and Rolfe was surprised. For many years he had suspected that Stephen’s feelings ran deep, and had wondered what could have possibly caused such hostility.
“You will play a difficult game,” he warned his son.
“I realize that. But I made no offer that I did not brood carefully upon. Duncan is weak, far too weak to remain for long as Scotland’s King, and Edward is young. There will come a ripe time for young Ed. I did as I had to do.”
“I do not chastise you,” Rolfe said, and then he smiled. “You did well, Stephen.”
Stephen smiled, apparently pleased with the praise. “Thank you, Father.”
Rolfe continued, his tone brisk. “There are several minor conditions. Rufus has declared that the wedding must take place at Court.”
Stephen stilled. “What game is this?”
“He obviously wishes to humiliate Malcolm by having the nuptials take place there. However, the betrothal can take place here upon the morrow.”
Stephen nodded; briefly his eyes flashed with satisfaction. Then he said, “Rufus will undoubtedly try to provoke Malcolm by reminding him that he has sworn fealty to him on bended knee. And Malcolm’s temper is hot.”
“Do not fret. We shall make certain that Malcolm and William Rufus do not come to blows—nothing is to interfere with this union. Rufus has also stated that Mary is to be his guest at Court until the wedding.”
“Why?” Stephen asked harshly. “What does he think to gain, to prove? Does he think to hold her captive until we are wed?” Stephen was on his feet, and his eyes were wild.
“Do not agitate yourself,” Rolfe said as Stephen began to pace.
“Or does he intend treachery?” Stephen demanded. “What game does he play now with me and mine?”
