Lord Liar Part 3

Just as the second course was being served, a huge bear- like man with a black patch over one eye entered the hall and surveyed the lower tables for a seat. He must surely be the tallest man I've ever seen, thought Aldyth. She wondered briefly if he had lost the sight of the one eye in battle. A s.h.a.ggy reddish beard matched the unruly thatch of crinkly hair that grew on his head, further contributing to the man's resemblance to a hear.

His immense size, plus G.o.dric's arrival before them with a platter of capon, prevented Aldyth at first from seeing the man who stood behind the giant.

When she looked up again, however, the big man had sat down, and she saw the figure making his way to the dais.

The man moved languidly, his gait drawing attention to a pair of scarlet leather shoes with ridiculous toes that curled up stiffly like rams' horns.

He paused, reaching up an elegant, long-fingered hand to smooth shoulder-length curled black hair, then his thumb and forefinger stroked his small beard and mustaches.

His dark eyes roamed the tables with a bored indifference as he strolled the length of the hall. He was clothed in a black velvet tunic era blazoned with the silver unicorn that was the Kingsclere emblem.

Who was he? Aldyth wondered with a shudder of distaste as he reached the dais, then she was conscious of the earl stiffening as a wave of musky scent swept over them. "I pray your forgiveness for my lateness, Father," the man drawled.

"I just couldn't seem to pick Which ring to wear." As if to ill.u.s.trate his plight, a large ruby winked obscenely on his hand as he gestured.

A vein bulged dangerously in the earl's forehead as he answered, his voice a growl,

"We have guests, Ranulf.

Perhaps you would like to make your greetings to them and beg their pardon for your rudeness before you seat yourself. "

This c.o.xcomb of a knight was Ranulf? The youth whose virile charm she had always remembered with a certain warmth and a quickening of her pulse?

Aldyth felt the blood drain from her face as she heard him drawl a greeting to her father and then move to stand in front of her place. Her eyes met his as he raised the hand she had left lying on the linen cloth to his lips.

"Lady Aldyth, well met. It has been a long time," he said. Within the dark depths of his eyes danced amus.e.m.e.nt at her discomfiture.

"You have grown into a beautiful damoiselle, but then, you always were a comely maiden, even when soaking wet."

"I th-thank you, m-my lord," she stammered at last. For the life of her, she could think of nothing to say to this transformed creature, and she knew he knew it. Mercifully, he cut short the embarra.s.sing moment.

"Go on with your meal, Aldyth. We will have time to talk later," he said, going around the table to seat himself at his fat hefts left. As soon as he had heaped his plate with a selection of delicacies offered by G.o.dfie, he engaged the priest on his other side in conversation.

Aldyth, whose mind was still whirling in confusion, felt Lady Nichola's eyes upon her.

"I fear you find our son much changed, my dear," the countess whispered.

"I, too, was rather startled when he arrived from London dressed in that mode, but he a.s.sures me 'tis merely the fas.h.i.+on at William Rufus's court ."

"All the young n.o.bles go about... like that?" Aldyth asked in disbelief.

"They do if they have no self-respect," Lord l. tienne growled, not troubling to lower his voice as his wife had done.

"Bah! The Conqueror must be rolling about in his grave if he is aware that men appear dressed almost as women now, in flowing garments with trailing sleeves, silly shoes and scented, curled hair nigh long as a woman's?" His words attracted his son's attention. Pausing with his eating dagger poised above his plate, Ranulf said mildly, "Surely each new reign will set new fas.h.i.+ons, Father.

Mayhap your sire looked askance at the shaven napes that were popular in your youth. "

Lord Etienne's face grew flushed with anger.

"My father was dead long before our duke became King of England, but that is beside the point. No one ever had cause to suspect my manhood from my style of dress?" He ignored the gentle, restraining hand that his wife laid upon his shoulder. It was an insult that was clearly heard, for the entire hall had hushed at the heated words thrown by the earl at his heir. Aldyth watched as Ranulf's face paled, but he only raised a languid hand to cover a yawn. Then he said in an infuriatingly lazy drawl,

"Father, please. You'll shock the guests."

Lord ltienne ignored his wife's eritreating look.

"As if you have not already done so? And by what right does your precious Rufus have the crown anyway? He isn't the eldest son of the Conqueror!"

"He's not my precious anything," Ranulf said.

"But he is the Conqueroffs choice as his successor. Would you give the throne to reckless Robert, who can't even rule his own duchy?"

"At least he has proved he's a man by siring a b.a.s.t.a.r.d or two. From what I hear, I doubt if Rufus is capable! And to look at you" -- his angry eyes took in the long be ringed fingers and his son's shoulder-length hair"--no one would guess you were capable, either. Perhaps your younger brother Richard will eventually he my heir--if he does not take after you."

Now he had gone too far. In the absolute silence that had descended upon the diners, Ranulf rose, his chair sc.r.a.ping across the stone floor of the dais. Gone was the languid laziness. His hand went to where his sword would have been.

"Be careful, my lord. Other ears might call your opinions about the king treasonous. And as for my abilities, well, I asked if I might bring my leman so that my bed here would be as warm as she keeps it at court, but you refused, lest my mistress's presence here distress my lady mother. The sight of Vivienne and the love children she had borne me would have put the lie to your fears, though, my lord father." With those parting words he stalked from the hall, head held high, two spots of color on his angular cheekbones.

"That Norman trollop?

Under the same roof as your mother? I think not! " his father roared after him, but his son did not slacken his pace.

For the rest of the meal, Aldyth kept her eyes glued to the table. No one knew what to say.

Pleading a headache--which was the truth--Aldyth excused herself before the sweet wafers were pa.s.sed and sought the refuge of her chamber. She couldn't stand any longer the sight of Lady Nichola's pale, strained face.

She paced back and forth in the small chamber, but the images of Ranulf, with his long, curled hair and ridiculous shoes, still rose up to mock her. He had boaslexl of a mistress who had not only shared his bed but given him children.

How could she have been so wrong about a man? She felt like such a fool, having loved Ranulf ever since she was a little girl. Oh, she knew well enough that men hardly ever came to their marriage beds inexperienced virgins like the virtuous damsels they expected to wed. Men had needs, needs they satisfied with a certain kind of woman before they married or when they were away from their wives for long periods of time. It was called a sin by the Church, and those who indulged in it confessed their sins eventually, did penance and resolved to do better. They did not boast of their mistresses and b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in front of their mothers and the gentlewomen they would marry!

She would never think of him again, she vowed. But she knew even as the thought was formed she would not keep such a vow. She had loved him from childhood, and she loved him still. The kind, thoughtful, affectionate boy he had been was still buried within the man he had become. And he had seemed pleased to see her and to talk with her later. Might that not mean he still cared for her as he had years ago?

She still loved him. And if there was a chance he still loved her, was it not her duty to use that love to bring Ranulf back to the right path? Once he knew the love of a good woman, of a lady who was suitable to marry the heir to an earldom, he would surely not need a mistress. Aldyth expected him to support his children, of course. They were innocent. If he wanted to bring them into her household, she would accept them gladly, for they were of his blood.

Tomorrow she would seek him out, she decided, and make sure he knew that she remembered the love they had for each other once, and that she loved him still. A soft knock sounded at the entrance of her room, startling her from her pacing. For a moment she just stared stupidly at the door, wondering who it could be and if she could possibly send the person away without showing her tear-stained face. Most especially, she could not face her father tonight.

The knock sounded again. Whoever it was would have to be answered.

Aldyth hoped it was a tirewoman sent by the countess to attend her. She looked forward to having the back of her bliaut unlaced so she could undress and go to bed. However, it was G.o.dric rather than a servant who stood at the threshold, bearing a tray with a flagon of wine and two carved wooden cups.

"May I come in? I thought you could use a bit more wine to help you sleep,"

her elder brother said.

She motioned him inside, taking a deep breath and hoping the tears no longer showed where they had trickled down her cheeks.

"I'm glad you came, G.o.dtic. I had wanted to talk with you, but I was too tired to stay in the hall any longer," she lied.

"You mean you were upset by the spectacle that Norman lordling made of himself," G.o.dric said shrewdly.

She nodded, helpless to prevent the flood of tears that cascaded down her cheeks again. Sobbing, she crumpled, and G.o.dric gathered her into a brotherly embrace, stroking her hair and murmuring to her in soothing English as if she were a little girl.

"Hush now, sister. I know you hurt because you loved him, but surely you see that must be in the past now."