Rowena was so appalled by this that she stopped walking, making Gilbert jerk on her arm to get her moving again, but not before the knight who was kicking the downed man noticed her watching him and smiled at her. No shame, no contrition. He smiled.
It was a well-known fact that without any ladies present, men would behave nearly as beasts. But there were ladies present, wives of some of the household knights. Obviously, they had no effect on the men’s behavior. This spoke clearly of the character of the lord of Kirkburough, for most men will do as their master does, in good or ill.
She had avoided looking toward the lord’s table, putting off as long as possible what was to be her fate. But Gilbert stopped, telling her the moment was at hand. Even so, her first sight of Godwine Lyons of Kirkburough nearly made her cry out in horror. Gilbert’s hand tightened on her arm, for she had taken an involuntary step backward.
’Twas worse than she could have imagined. The man wasn’t just old, he looked like a corpse. His skin was a pasty white, and so deeply wrinkled there was not an inch anywhere to be seen that could be called smooth. What was left of his hair was white, except for one narrow streak of blond to attest to what the color had been. His body was so bent, he stood no taller than Rowena, who was only a few inches above five feet. His bright silk robe, trimmed at neck and sleeves with costly fur, merely made him look ridiculous.
The whites of his eyes were dark yellow. A white film covered the iron gray of one of his irises. He was almost blind. He had to come mere inches in front of Rowena to have a look at her, and she was assailed by his fetid breath, which nearly made her gag before he moved back. With crooked fingers, he pinched her cheek and cackled, revealing the only two teeth remaining in his mouth.
Gilbert was shouting the introductions, which told her the old man was also almost deaf. That was fortunate, because Rowena could not stop herself from swallowing her pride and begging.
“Please, Gilbert, do not do this to me. If you must marry me off, choose another, any other—”
“Be quiet,” he hissed in her ear. “’Tis done, promises made.”
Before he had her consent? “Promises can be broken,” she told him.
“Nay; there is no other who would agree to all I ask.”
Whatheasked for. Forhisbenefit. She had lowered herself to plead with him for naught. She had even known it would be for naught. She would never beg again, not to him or any man, for only God had mercy. Men had only greed and lust.
She turned to look up at him, having to bend her head back, he was so near. And quietly, without emotion, she said, “Guard your back well, brother, ere my dagger finds it. The first chance I have, I mean to kill you for this.”
“Do not speak foolishness,” he replied, but uneasily, his eyes searching hers. And something in hers must have convinced him ’twas not an idle threat. He actually looked stricken when he cried out, “Rowena!”
She turned her back on him and summoned a servant to take her to whatever room had been prepared for her. If Gilbert or Lord Godwine had tried to stop her from leaving that hall, she probably would have shown them all a fine rendering of a madwoman. But neither did, and she had to stop on the darkened stairs that led up to the tower room where she was to pass the night, for her own tears, finally released, were blinding her.
Chapter 3
Rowena woke with some disorientation, but it lasted only moments before she knew exactly where she was. When she had finally gotten to sleep she could not guess, but it had been long after midnight. Now she could almost feel her blood turning cold as dread seeped into her bones, keeping her immobile on the bed.
Some little light came through the high window in the tower room, but not much more than was had from the hearth and candles set about the small chamber. A long while passed before she wondered who had lit those candles and restoked the fire. And who, for that matter, had drawn her bed-curtain open? If Gilbert had dared…
“Do you mean to lie abed until ’tis time to face the priest?”
“Mildred?” Rowena gasped in surprise, recognizing that dear voice.
“Aye, my sweet one.”
Rowena sat up and located the maid sitting on a chest that had not been there when she had first entered the room. Her own chest it was. And her own maid sitting on it.
Mildred had been her maid for as long as Rowena could remember, and before that, she had served Lady Anne. She was a small woman, smaller even than Rowena, though not small in girth. Quite round she was in that respect, for Mildred did indeed love to eat. Two score and five years in age, with gray streaking her brown hair, and warm brown eyes, she had been allowed to accompany Rowena into her isolation three years ago, the only kind thing Hugo d’Ambray had ever done for her.
“How came you to be here?” Rowena asked as she looked about the room to see if anyone else was there.
“When he came for you yestermorn, he left orders for all that you own to be packed up and brought here. Those churls thought to leave me behind, but I set them right on that notion.”
“So sure he was that he would have my cooperation in this farce,” Rowena said bitterly to herself.
“I saw that old man last eventide when I arrived. How could you agree to wedthat?”
Rowena could feel the tears starting to gather in her eyes, but she fought them back. Her lower lip still trembled, however, when she said, “Gilbert was beating my mother. I doubt he would have stopped until I did agree.”
“Oh, my lamb,” Mildred cried, and came swiftly forward to gather Rowena into her arms. “I knew he was a monster, just like his sire. Those soft words of his never fooled me, each time he came sniffing ’round your skirts.”
“God forgive me, but I hate him now. He has no thought for me in all this, only his own gain.”
“Aye, that is true enough. Already they prepare for war here. ’Tis said this keep will be nigh empty come the new dawn. Every knight, and near a thousand men-at-arms, your new lord has committed to young Gilbert. And there is gold enough to hire thousands more. ’Twill not be long ere you have back all that Fulkhurst, that monster from the north, has reft from you.”
