Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол Мортимер

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       Chapter Thirteen

      The gate of Windsor Castle rose before him, a blessed end to a journey which had seemed longer than all the ones before. Other than to see that she was comfortable and safe, Nicholas had tried to stay away from Anne, but he had been forced to step in when the others kept tangling the straps he had designed to hold her firmly to her patient jennet.

      He knew that avoidance was only the mirror of desire, both weaknesses of the heart. But as the miles unrolled behind them, he told himself a different story. She had withheld the truth deliberately. It was no sin of omission, no accident. And it had nothing to do with her trust of him.

      She had concealed her part in the wedding for some other reason. Whatever that might be, it was reason enough for him to be suspicious.

      But he wanted no more mysteries to unravel. The Archbishop and the Pope were appeased. All that was to be done was to have a redundant ceremony so the Prince and his bride could be off to bed, Nicholas off to France and Anne off to...

      Well, he didn’t care.

      But now, even at Windsor’s gates, carts of building stone stretched between here and the journey’s end, forcing him to ride around them to gain entrance.

      Windsor itself he barely recognised. The new entrance with massive stone turrets had been completed in the spring, before he left for France, along with lodgings opposite the chapel, where he would, no doubt, find a bed. In the months he had been away, it seemed that the French peace payments had transformed into men and stone.

      Workmen swarmed the castle grounds. Blocks of white, brown and green stone littered the yard, along with stacks of wood. The smell of the iron worker’s charcoal hung in the air. Strong walls, looking more like a church than a fortress, were rising on the north side of the upper bailey.

      Sparing a moment’s sympathy for the man taking charge of it all, he swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to Eustace. He was done with all that, he reminded himself, as he went to help Anne off her horse for the last time.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, then rested her fingers on the leather straps that had held her steady for the days and miles past. ‘May I keep it?’

      He waved a hand in agreement. What use did he have for a leather harness designed for her comfort?

      ‘Will I see you again?’ she asked, as Agatha called over a servant to unload their horses.

      ‘I don’t think so.’ If God had been merciful, the ransom for his hostage would be waiting for him, money enough for him to buy the second warhorse he needed, some arms for Eustace, and then book passage to France. From there, he would find the Great Company, and lose himself in the fighting. ‘I’ll leave as soon as I can.’

      ‘Then God keep you safe on your journey.’ She took a deep breath and let it go, as if she were letting him go, as well, and then turned to confer with Agatha about what rooms would be theirs.

      The King and Queen had not yet returned to Windsor, but Edward and Joan had moved their households here to begin planning for the expected wedding. Until the new palace was finished, the royal family was housed in the round tower perched on a hill in the centre of the Windsor grounds.

      Nicholas turned to the tower, but the Prince had not waited for him to be officially announced; he had rather appeared beside him, out of breath as if he had run all the way.

      Hope and worry met in his eyes. ‘Well?’

      ‘Yes.’ Nicholas had the sudden urge to put his arm around Edward’s shoulder in reassurance. ‘All is well.’

      The Prince roared in delight and sent servants scurrying to find wine and the Lady Joan as they mounted the stairs back to Edward’s rooms in the tower.

      So easy for two fighting men, he thought, as they left the keep behind them. So difficult for Anne, who would struggle with stick and stair.

      He looked behind him, hoping he would not see her on her knees again, but Edward would not let him pause until they reached his rooms and red wine filled their silver goblets.

      ‘To Sir Nicholas Lovayne,’ Edward said, lifting the cup. ‘Who has made it possible for me to reach heaven on earth.’

      Nicholas’s pride, usually hidden, broke into a smile. No, he might not have noticed the coloured windows of Canterbury’s Cathedral, but he had served his sovereign and the Prince as well, or better, than any man could have. ‘How soon?’ the Prince asked. ‘When can we wed again?’

      ‘A few weeks. No more.’

      Edward’s smile dimmed. ‘So long? I cannot wait to have my bride back in my bed.’

      A bold statement about a future Queen, Nicholas thought, though he suspected she shared the sentiment. Weak fools, both of them, to be driven by such want. An unwelcome reminder of his own weakness.

      What had Anne called it?

      Bliss. But what man, even a Prince, was given heaven on earth?

      ‘No more than two months,’ he said. But long enough. By then, if he were fortunate, he would be across the Channel and have joined forces with the company of mercenaries, doing exactly what he longed to do. ‘Did the ransom arrive?’

      ‘No,’ Edward said, wiping his wine-soaked moustache on his sleeve. ‘And so, my friend, you cannot leave me yet. You must witness the wedding you made possible. But you will receive something from me. Small enough thanks for my happiness.’

      The sum he named was generous. It would keep his hostage fed and his gaoler paid until the payment came from France.

      ‘And so, my friend, until then, enjoy the hunt, the gaming and even a diversion with the ladies.’

      There was only one lady that came to his mind. The very one he wanted to forget.

      The Prince called for his hunt master, already turning his attention away from the wedding and all the difficulties Nicholas had conquered to make it possible.

      It was done. Finished. His work complete.

      So why did he still wonder?

      ‘Edward, was there someone else there that night?’

      The Prince was listening with half an ear. ‘What night?’

      ‘When СКАЧАТЬ