By Arrangement Part 6

"That is for the other debt. You will go to a place that I tell you. There a man will flog you just as you watched others flogged for your pleasure. Ten lashes."

Her eyes flew open in shock. He noted her reaction with relief. Those who took pleasure in pain often went both ways, and he did not want her to get perverse enjoyment out of this.

"I didn't realize that we had so much in common," she finally said.

"We have nothing in common. I will not be there, although some of the others might be. They will be told of this and may want to see it. I would demand your husband do it, as he should have long ago, but he knows what he has in you, and if he started he might not stop. It is justice we seek, not revenge or your husband's satisfaction."

She abruptly rose from the tub. She stepped out and began to dry herself. Her hurried, angry movements gradually slowed, however, and the expression on her face changed. He saw her considering, calculating, planning the final negotiation that, if executed well enough, might change everything. He realized with surprise that he had totally lost interest in taking her humiliation any further. He removed a small purse from the front of his pourpoint. It contained exactly the difference between the value of the loans and the Hampstead property. He dropped the purse on top of her garments. "It is the money that you seek but not a loan. That would be bad business. However, I always pay for my wh.o.r.es whether I use them or not."

He walked to the door. "A week hence, madam. The time and place will be sent to you. Afterward husband can contact me about settling the loans and property."

Her voice, harsh and ugly, ripped across the chamber. "There will be a new debt to settle after this, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d son of a wh.o.r.e!"

He paused. Justice, not revenge, he reminded himself.

Stilla "Fifteen lashes, I think now, my lady. The last five for the insult to my mother."

He strode out through the solar and hall and left the house.

The sky had clouded over and a light snow was falling by the time David reined in his horse outside the tavern. To his right, along the Southwark docks, small craft of all types bobbed. Stretched out in front of them rose the small houses where the prost.i.tutes of the Stews plied their trade. Even at night these docks would be full, for the city discouraged crossing the river after dark and it was traditional for these women to have their customers stay until dawn.

The rude tavern was dark and musty with river damp. David let his eyes adjust, and then walked to a corner table.

"You are late," the man sitting there said.

David slid onto the bench. "Oliver, you are the most punctual wh.o.r.emonger I have ever met."

Oliver pa.s.sed him a cup of ale, drank some of his own, and wiped his black mustache and beard on his sleeve. "I am a busy man, David. Time is money."

"Your woman's time is money, Oliver, not yours. How is Anne?"

Oliver shrugged. "She doesn't like the winter. The nights are too long in her opinion."

She would probably move to c.o.c.k Lane soon. It was right outside the city wall and the women there worked differently than here in Southwark. But then, they also had to deal with the city laws. Southwark, across the Thames from London, was a town apart and close to lawless. He looked at Oliver's wiry thin body and long black hair. They had known each other since boyhood, when they had played and sc.r.a.pped in the streets and alleys together. On occasion during those carefree days, they had met danger side by side. But then Oliver's poor family had moved up to Hull and David had been plucked from those alleys and sent to school and into trade. They had met again when Oliver returned to London several years ago. David had recognized at once that he had found a man whom he could trust. Like Sieg, Oliver might do a criminal's deeds sometimes, but he lived by a code of loyalty and fairness that would put most knights to shame. Since then, they had again on occasion met danger side by side.

The decision for Anne to become a prost.i.tute had simply been the easiest of several choices available to them when they had come back to London. Anne had already decided that the winter nights were too long when he had met them a short while later. Still, she probably earned three times as much on her back than she and Oliver could together through honest labor. The odd jobs Oliver did for him and others helped some.

He wondered how he was going to explain Oliver and Anne to Christiana. Sieg's story would be strange enough when she finally realized that he wasn't a typical servant.

"Has he spoken to you?" Oliver asked.

"Twice. The last time just this morning."

"I have followed him like you said. He spoke to a s.h.i.+p's master yesterday. I think that he will sail back soon."

"He will need to. I expect that he will seek me out one more time, though, and delay his trip until I will talk to him at length. He has only felt me out so far, and has not achieved what he came for."

"You think that it is set, then?"

"I think so. I refused him, but I left the door open."

Oliver shook his head. "I am not convinced. His actions have been very normal. He goes to merchants and other places of business. That is all."

"His offer to me has been subtle so far but unmistakable. He appears to be a merchant because he is one. Except for the letter for Edward and his mission with me, he is here for trade. It is the whole point. Whenever I go to France or Flanders, I go for trade, too." He stretched out his legs beneath the table.

"Speaking of which, tell Albin that I will need to go over in about a week or so."

"Running from your duel?" Oliver asked with a grin.

"Before that. After he talks with me but before my wedding. I want to sail along the coast."

"You are pus.h.i.+ng things, my friend," Oliver said, laughing. "Wait until after you marry this princess. Tempt fate and you might find yourself caught in bad seas for a week and miss the ceremony. That will take some explaining, I'll warrant."

David looked away. Sieg had been right. It was a bad time to be getting married. Oliver was right, too. He should wait until after the wedding to sail the coast. But it needed to be done soon, and he had no intention of leaving Christiana for a while after she came to him. This girl, and the growing desire he felt for her, were complicating things.

Her eyes were faceted jewels full of bright reflections. A man could lose his soul in eyes like that. For one thing, he had begun to lose interest in these subtle and dangerous plans that he had laid and in which Oliver played a role. He had finally admitted that to himself as he rode over here today, and had been astonished to discover it. After all, he had been slowly planting this particular field for almost two years. A piece of information here, a deliberate slip there. It had worked because people like himself were quick to notice mistakes and weakness and potential advantage, and he knew that he dealt with a man very much like himself. In fact, matching wits with him should be a pleasure in itself, and the final justice much more satisfying than the rather thin contentment he had felt with Lady Catherine today. Instead, he was losing interest and even considering cutting things short just as they reached the critical moves. His own plans and Edward's had become so intertwined that he had pondered at length whether it would be possible to extricate one from the other. That he even considered such a thing had to do with Christiana. She had him thinking of the future more than the past. He already felt responsibility for her. He considered far too often what it would mean for her if in the end he lost this game. He had changed his testament so that she would be a wealthy widow if something went wrong. Funds would be on account with Florentine bankers too. When the time came, he would give Sieg and Oliver instructions for getting her out of the country if that became necessary. But all of that would never compensate her if he failed.

Her gestures were full of elegance and poise, her hands and arms beautifully angled like a dancer's. It was the way that she moved that made her appear fragile. She still expected that her lover would come for her. He didn't doubt her resolve on that for one moment.

Stephen Percy. Learning the man's name and something of his character had been easy enough, but the knowledge only confirmed David's initial instincts about the affair. Christiana was in for a bad disappointment.

That her heart would break soon went without saying, but when would she see the truth behind illusions?

Two weeks? A month? Never? The last possible. A girl's first love could be a blind thing, and she was convinced that she was in love with this man. Accepting the truth could well be impossible. G.o.d knew he had seen that before.

So young Percy doesn't come for her. Then what? A marriage full of cold duty? He smiled thinly at the thought. He knew well what happened in such unions. The men found mistresses quickly or spent too many nights with the prost.i.tutes on c.o.c.k Lane. The more honest wives absorbed themselves with religion or their children.

And the braver and bolder womena well, they eventually found their ways to the beds of men like David de Abyndon.

He felt her thin, lithe body against his. He sensed her responses to him, and her fear of them. A tremor flowed through her and into him, and he had wanted to kiss her again and again. He had enough experience to recognize the possibilities which those tremors had revealed. But then, he had already sensed them that night in his solar.

In his memory's eye he saw her sparkling eyes and pale skin and the wide mouth that he couldn't see without wanting to kiss. He imagined her walking toward him, naked and inviting, that beautiful face and mouth finally turned up willingly to his.

But then her image grew hazy and dim, and another woman's face replaced it. Gaunt and tired, this face was beautiful too despite its weariness. Resting on a pillow with golden brown hair encircling it like a halo, its eyes were finally closed to disappointment and disillusion. The image fell away and he could see the entire chamber with its flickering candles and the white sheets on the bed. Clothes hung on pegs along a wall and a fire burned too hotly in the hearth. And sitting on the bed, his graying head buried in that lifeless breast, bent the anguished figure of David Constantyn. He hadn't realized until then how much the man had loved her. At night when the house was dark, did he go to her? Did she go to him? Had she slept with him? G.o.d, but he hoped so. He firmly set aside consideration of the risks that had meant nothing before he met Christiana. For both of them, then, he thought.

"If you refuse this merchant, do you think the other will come?" Oliver asked.

"He will come," David said. "I would come. Keep your ears and those of your listeners open, Oliver. Not just for that, by the way. Stay around the pilgrims' taverns. I seek news from Northumberland."

"Any particular news?"

"There is a knight named Stephen Percy. If he comes to Westminster, I want to know right away. Or if you hear anything else about that family."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "And if this man comes?"

David saw the look and knew at once that Sieg had already told Oliver of his interest in Sir Stephen. No doubt they guessed that he had something to do with Christiana.

He remembered Sieg's offer to deal with Morvan, and knew that Oliver was making the same suggestion now. It was not in their natures to do such things, but out of friends.h.i.+p for him they would do them anyway. Their loyalty could be burdensome at times. He had enough trouble battling his own inclinations without having to worry about the souls of the men who served him. He thought about his promise to step aside. It had been a moment of weakness while gazing at a lovely face. His eye for beauty drove him from one bad bargain to another sometimes, especially when he negotiated for something that he wanted to keep for himself. Fortunately, Percy would not return and test his honesty to that promise. All the samea "Just let me know at once," he said. "I will decide then."

Chapter 5.

Christiana remained firm in her decision not to be alone again with David. The next Monday she insisted that they sit in the garden, where Lady Idonia just happened to find and join them. It was a pleasant visit as he entertained them with stories from his travels.

During dinner a few days later, Sir Walter Manny stopped by her table. Sir Walter was one of the Queen's men from Philippa's native land of Hainault. During their conversation he mentioned that he knew David and had even introduced him to the King two years ago when Edward had a letter for the mayor of Ghent and David was planning a trip to Flanders.

"Are you saying that David delivered the letter for the King?" she asked.

"It is done all the time, my lady. Why send a messenger if a trusted merchant makes the trip? Sometimes it is even better this way, especially if you do not want to draw attention to the communication. For example, everyone knows that there is currently a Flemish trader in Westminster who is partial to the French alliance of the Count of Flanders, unlike his fellow burghers who support England. We just a.s.sume that he might have brought a private letter from the Count to our King. A formal exchange would be awkward since they are adversaries, but still negotiations occur." He scanned the hall and pointed.

"There he is with Lady Catherine. His name is Frans van Horlst."

Christiana looked to where a gray-haired man fawned over Catherine. It was her "diplomat," the one she had seen speak with David that first Tuesday after the betrothal. And then, out of the corner of her mind came another memory, of the first time that she had seen that man in the King's private corridor. Two voices speaking Parisian French. One soft and low and barely a whisper.

David? The voice had been too quiet to tell. He knew the King well enough to offer for the daughter of Hugh Fitzwaryn, and yet no one had ever seen him around court. The access of that private pa.s.sageway would explain that contradiction. Had it been David there that day? If so, what was he to the King that he entered and left by that special route? And what had Frans van Horlst wanted of him?

"Do you know if David still performs such favors for the King?"

Sir Walter shrugged. "I suggested him that once and introduced them. Whether the relations.h.i.+p continued I cannot say."

"How did you come to know my betrothed?"

Sir Walter grinned and bent his fair head conspiratorially. "You no doubt know that he is an accomplished musician? Taught himself, too."

She nodded dutifully, although she didn't know that at all.

"We both belong to the Pui," he confided.

The Pui was one of many secret fraternities in London. The only thing truly secret about it was the date and location of its annual meetings. Besides drinking all night, the men of the Pui performed songs that they had composed, and one of the songs was chosen to be "crowned." Sometimes when a jongleur played a new chanson, one might hear references to it being from the Pui.

"Has he played the lute for you? His preferred instrument is that ancient Celtic harp of his, but it often doesn't suit the songs and so he has had to learn the lute. Still, two years ago he beat me out for the crown, and I still swear it was only because of the novelty of that d.a.m.ned harp," Walter said. Christiana suddenly thought of the perfect way to be the exact opposite of alone with David that upcoming Monday. She confessed that her dear betrothed had never had the chance to play for her. Would Sir Walter be willing to help remedy the situation?

When David arrived Monday morning, she greeted him happily. She even smiled when he kissed her.

"I have called for a mount from the stables for you," he said. "We will go to my house for dinner. You should meet the servants, and the boys need to get to know you."

The last thing she wanted was to go to his house and meet the people involved in his life. They would be greeting her as their future mistress, while she would know that she would never see them again.

"Let us go out through the hall," she suggested. "I need to see if Morvan is there. I have something to tell him."

Of course Morvan wasn't there as she knew he wouldn't be. But Sir Walter was, sitting in a corner surrounded by seven young girls. He sang a plucky love song as he played his lute, raising his eyebrows comically at the more romantic parts. The girls giggled at his exaggerated expressions.

"David!" he called, breaking off his playing as they crossed the hall.

"Walter," David greeted him warmly. He glanced down at the girls sitting on the floor. "I see that you are living an Englishman's fantasy."

The girls turned and a.s.sessed him. Christiana watched them react to his handsome face. They were all unmarried and younger than her.

"I am trying out a new lute," Walter explained, holding up the instrument. He gestured to another on the bench beside him. "But I think that I prefer the old one."

"It is always thus at first," David said. He took Christiana's arm and began to guide her away. Christiana glared at Walter.

"Let us see how they sound together, David," Walter said quickly.

The girls clapped their hands in encouragement. David looked at Walter. He looked at the second lute. He looked at Christiana.

She smiled and tried to make her expression glitter like Joan's. She let her eyes plead a little. With a sigh of resignation he stepped through the girls and sat beside Walter, taking the lute on his lap. Walter mumbled something and they both began playing a song about spring. They played a long while, until the hall began filling for dinner. Whenever David attempted to finish, the girls would whine and cajole. There came a point when Christiana could tell that he had given up, that he knew that he was trapped for the duration. After that he even enjoyed himself, trading jokes with Walter and finally singing a song on his own.

It was a love song that she had never heard before. The melody was lyrical and slow and a little sad. Christiana closed her eyes and felt her own sadness stirred by it.

Her thoughts turned to Stephen and the melancholy swelled. She lost track of the next few songs as her heart and worry dwelled on him. Then the girls moved around her and she became alert again. The merry group broke up and Walter insisted that David dine with him. David accepted and then helped her to her feet. Briefly he looked at her, then smiled and shook his head in amus.e.m.e.nt. They did not go to his house. She did not meet the people there. More importantly, they were not alone all day. When she finally returned to Isabele's apartment, Idonia and Joan had returned, and so his departing kiss was as light and discreet as his greeting.

Christiana stepped out of the silvery pink wedding gown and handed it to the tailor, who managed adroitly not to see her standing in her s.h.i.+ft.

This marriage business did wonders for a girl's wardrobe. She could not feel excited about this new cotehardie, however. The cost made her feel guilty because she knew that it would never be worn. It would be in extremely poor taste to run off with Stephen in defiance of the Queen but still take the gown that the Queen had purchased.

What really bothered her about this gown, however, was its relentless progress toward completion. These fittings had become unwelcome but unavoidable reminders that time kept pa.s.sing far too quickly. Half of the five weeks had pa.s.sed, and still she had no word from Stephen Percy. A servant helped her into her plain purple cotehardie and blue surcoat. She sent the woman off to find Joan while she slipped on some low boots.

It was Friday, almost three weeks since her betrothal, and she would be seeing David this afternoon instead of next Monday because he would be out of the city then. They were going to the horse fair and races at Smithfield, which she thought might be fun.

Before they got there, however, she had a thing to two to say to Master David de Abyndon. David rode into Westminster flanked by Sieg and Andrew.

Sieg was frowning. "Now, if pretty young Joan comes out with her, I leave and Andrew stays," he said.

"But if the little bit of fire from h.e.l.l, that Lady Idonia, shows up, it's the other way around."

"I'm afraid so, Sieg," David said. On his left Andrew smirked.

Sieg frowned some more. "And whoever stays is to distract the other female so she's not in the way."

David nodded. He had used Christiana's own lie about the Queen insisting that the girls not be alone with men to explain his need of Sieg and Andrew today. He was almost thirty years old, but this girl had reduced him to games that he'd given up at eighteen. She had avoided being alone with him since that first Tuesday and had been very clever about it. He was amused and not annoyed, but then he was growing fascinated with her and would probably excuse anything.

Their mutual attraction simply did not fit in with her plans. Her response to his kiss and embrace had badly frightened her. She acted as confused and inexperienced as an untouched virgin. That effect of innocence had charmed him almost as much as her quick pa.s.sion had enflamed him. He could avoid this game. Eventually, soon in fact, she would be his. But he found himself picturing those eyes and tasting those lips in his memory far too often for complete retreat. Besides, he did not want her rebuilding her defenses too well. He didn't relish the notion of having to choose between continence or rape on his wedding night.

"The problem as I see it," Sieg continued, "is what if Lady Idonia won't be distracted? She's like a lioness protecting her cubs."

"h.e.l.l, Sieg, you're three times her size, for heaven's sake," Andrew muttered. "Just pick her up under your arm and walk off with her."

Sieg's frown disappeared. "Jo? That was how I did it back home, of course, but I thought that here in Englanda"

"Andrew is jesting, Sieg."

The frown returned. "Oh. Ja."