Lord Liar Part 11

"Yet now you appear before me, and you have told me the truth.

Why, Maud? "

Any illusion she had held that Maud was telling her these things to protect her was dashed by her next words.

"I thought ye should know, lady. Ye looked so proud whenever he came t' see ye--I thought ye should know there's another what shares his love, aye, and always will!" Aldyth hadn't known she was so close to striking the defiant Maud until she saw her tirewoman flinch. Slowly she withdrew the fist she had raised. It had never been her way to strike a servant and she would not start now. Nor did Maud deserve to be the sole recipient of her wrath, if what she was saying was the truth.

"Go to your chamber, Maud. If I find out you've lied I'll deal with you later." She swept from the room, not pausing to see if Maud remained or not.

Chapter Six

Lord tienne, his countess, Sir Nyle and Gundreda had retired.

Now Turold, accompanied only by G.o.dric, sat at the high table, staring down at the castle folk who still sat laughing, singing and drinking or who lay, snoring noisily, amid the remains of the feast.

Turold wore a complacent smile. Tomorrow his dream would be realized.

Aldyth would be his wife, and all this would be his to share. He planned to ingratiate himself thoroughly with Aldyth's father so that he would be like another son to him--at/ east until the English came into their own again, when he would denounce all those who had become collaborators with the Normans and traitors to the English cause.

Thanks to Swanlea Farm's bounty, Turold had always had enough to eat, but he had never seen such a variety of food as there had been tonight. Tomorrow, Aldyth had told him, there would be even more at the wedding feast.

He noticed his bride-to-be preferred the spiced dishes that the Normans had brought with them when they had conquered England rather than the plain boiled meats of the English. And after the initial toast, in which Turold and Aldyth had shared a gilded goblet full of spiced hippocras, he had called for ale, but his bride-to-be preferred wine, as if she were as Norman as Lord 15. tienne and Lady Nichola.

All very well for now, he thought, crossing his hands over his full belly, but beginning tomorrow he'd cure her of her preference for Norman things! As the daughter of a castellan in service to the conquering foreigners, she'd been allowed to forget she was English, but that was over now. She just didn't know it yet, he thought, smiling to himself, feeling his groin tighten as he imagined the control he would soon exert over his beautiful bride--both in bed and at the table, and in every other aspect of her life. "Turold, I would speak to you."

He blinked. Aldyth was standing in front of him as if he had conjured her up out of his l.u.s.tful thoughts. He blinked again and rubbed his eyes, which stung from the smoke in the room and the lateness of the hour. She was still there-and she did not look happy.

What now? he wondered irritably. She had been fidgety and nervous--as was expected of a bride-to-be, when she retired. Had his dour mother disturbed her peace, making some niggling complaint about her chamber?

"Turold, I would speak to you now," the figure standing in front of the table repeated in an insistent tone that grated on the headache just beginning to trouble his ale-fogged brain. Soon after they married, he would lesson her about nagging a man, he vowed.

"What troubles you, sweetheart?" he said, standing up and bending over the table toward her.

"Ah, true love," G.o.dric teased.

"She can't bear to let you go for the night."

Turold gave him a c.o.c.ky wink.

"Turold, I would prefer to speak to you alone," Aldyth said with a meaningful glance at her tipsy brother and the interested audience of die-hard drinkers at the tables below the salt.

"See, my almost-brother-by-marriage, I told you so," crowed G.o.dric, ignoring Aldyth's glare.

"Of course, my darling almost-wife. I rejoice to oblige you," Tarold said, grinning. Whatever it was, he could smooth the furrows from Aldyth's brow--maybe even in the same persuasive fas.h.i.+on he used with Maud, if he went about it in the right way. He hadn't met the woman yet who couldn't be soothed with the equipment G.o.d had endowed him with, he thought, the ale lending him confidence. Taking a lantern, she led him outside, across the bailey and into the chapel in the brisk December breeze. "What means this, Aldyth? I thought you wanted to be alone w -- ' " We're alone here," she said, taking a taper and lighting the candles that flanked the altar from her lantern. The shadows fled to the far corners.

"This seemed a better place for the telling of the truth, a truth that I'm long overdue to hear, it seems."

"what are you talking about, Aldyth?" he said, allowing a tinge of the crossness he felt to show in his tone as a warning. It was cold as a harlot's heart in here, and he'd be d.a.m.ned if he was going to indulge her prenuptial skittishness in such an uncomfortable place.

"I'm talking about my tirewoman, Maud. Just how long have you been bedding her, and when were you going to tell her it was over between you now that you were going to be a husband--or were you going to tell her? Were you ever going to tell me?"

He seemed to change in the strange, dancing shadows of the chapel. A heartbeat before, he had been the genial, indulgent bridegroom-to-be; now the candlelight from the altar reflected off the face of a demon.

Aldyth was so transfixed by the transformation of her betrothed that she missed the fist that struck the side of her head. The next thing she knew, she was lying back on the stone floor with Turold leaning over her, his features still a mask of rage.

"Don't ever presume to tell me what to do, Aldyth," he growled at her, the fumes of stale ale was.h.i.+ng over her in a foul gust that made her stomach chum.

"I'm a man, and a man has a right to do what pleases him!"

Quickly she scuttled back out from under him, all the while reminding herself she must be as understanding as she had been willing to be with Ranulf's bachelor sins.

"Yes, while you were unwed, Turold, but tomorrow" -- "Tomorrow I'll be your lord and master in the eyes of man and the Church, and you'll not dare raise your voice to reel" he ranted at her crouching figure, his voice echoing in the stillness of the chapel.

"You've been pampered and spoiled and allowed to forget your proper place as a woman, but no morel" He was drunk, dangerously drunk. She knew she should meekly acquiesce while in his presence, then seek help in undoing this disastrous betrothal before it was too late. But something had snapped within her, too, something that made her ignore caution and the danger signs of his clenched fists and rage, reddened eyes.

She scrambled to her feet.

"Turold, I'm sorry, but I seem to have made a horrible mistake.

"Tis dear to me I cannot marry you. I... I don't know what we'll have to do to annul the betrothal, but" -- "Nay, Aldyth, 'tis too late for that! You'll be marrying me, right enough, I'll see to it!"

He leaped at her, landing a stinging blow to her cheek that threatened to snap her head off her neck. The room dimmed, and for a moment unconsciousness beckoned invitingly, but she fought it.

"You can't force me to mar you, Turoldl" He struck her again. Over the ringing in her ears, she heard him snarl,

"Oh, can't I? Mayhap I'll show you right now, tight here, what I can force you to do!" He fell on her, grinding his body crudely against hers.

She sobbed, terrified now.

"Nol You can't mean to rape me in the chapel!

"Tis sacrilege! You'll be excommunicated, Evidently the threat was enough to penetrate his ale. soaked brain, for Turold got slowly, clumsily to his feet, then dragged her up with him. He dug his fingers cruelly into the hair at her nape, ignoring her whimpers.

Their chins were just inches apart.

"You will marry me in the morning just as we planned." He ground the words out.

"And I'll see you do no running to anyone tonight with your silly complaints, wench. To bed with you now. My bride must look radiant on the morrow."

She wanted to laugh hysterically. He must be mad! She would hardly look radiant when the blows that still stung her face had blossomed into bruises!

Biding her time, though, she said nothing as he steered her from the chapel, clutching her hair with cruel strength to direct her. Surely they would meet someone along the way back to her chamber who would intervene, she thought, forcing herself to be calm as her scalp screamed in protest at his yanking.

Her father--G.o.dric--even a scullion could be made to summon her aid!

She was not dismayed that the bailey was deserted. The hour was late.

When they went into the hall, Turold would have to let go of her or arouse the suspicion of G.o.dric. Please G.o.d, her brother had not sought him bed in the last few minutes, had he? Or if by some chance he got her up the staircase without their being seen, Lord ltienne and Lady Nichols, as guests of highest rank, were staying in the master chamber normally occupied by Sir Nylo, next to Aldyth's. She had but to pound on the wall between them and scream. But Turold did not take her into the hall, crossing instead to the range of apartments that housed the priest, her father's steward and several chambers that were reserved for guests.

He did not take her to the room he had been a.s.signed until the wedding night, but instead pushed her up the stairs, pausing to knock at Gundreda's chamber.