The Valcourt Heiress (Medieval Song 7)

“Do you not remember just a week ago, no more than that, you feared her in equal measure that you hated her? Do you still deny her part in the murder of so many of Wareham’s people, and all because she wanted the silver?”

“You make it sound like she wielded a sword. She did not, she merely gave advice and counsel to Jason of Brennan. She had no idea what he would do, the lengths he would go to. I will tell this to the king. Jason of Brennan must confess his lies about her, as will Sir Halric.”

He regarded her silently for a moment, then asked her, his voice curious, “Do you really believe them lies, Merry?”

“What do you care what I think? You are nothing, Garron, nothing but a guard.”

Oddly, he wanted to laugh. He realized her blow didn’t hit deep, and, he supposed, if it had come from the Merry of only days before, it would have crippled him. “A royal guard, Merry, a royal guard. When you came back to me, you kissed me and told me you wished to be my wife. Was that only because you still believed I was an earl with wealth and a valuable holding? Did you ever care for me?”

“Aye, I did, but I must look forward now, not back. You speak of caring, my lord, look to yourself. We could have wedded anytime during this past week, but we did not. I would have wed you, but you made no mention of it. And why is that? Why?”

And there it was, in the open space between them. What could he say to her when he himself only knew in his gut that he simply hadn’t wished to? “Tell me, Merry, do you wish to wed with Jason of Brennan if the king lets him walk away whole hide?”

She gave him a cool smile, tossed her beautiful hair. “Jason has only one ear. Who would want to wed with a man with only one ear?”

“Still,” Garron said, his voice utterly emotionless, “if Lord Ranulf convinces the king his claim to the silver is valid, if he offers the king a royal share, then mayhap the king will give Jason over into his father’s keeping. If Lord Ranulf allows Jason to live, why then, will he not be his father’s heir? Aye, would Jason not be rich and titled upon Lord Ranulf’s death?”

He gave her a humorless smile. “What is one missing ear given all that?”

“I will think about it,” Merry said, turned on her heel, and walked away.

Garron stared after her, wondering how a man’s life, how his very world, could collapse so completely in such a short time. This girl he’d cared for more than he cared for himself but days ago, had become a stranger, a stranger he no longer even liked. Who are you? What are you? What did your mother do to you?

Imposter?

He very much hoped the king would destroy Helen of Meizerling. If not, he hoped the king would allow him to kill her; only then would the world be safe from her. He saw again her tower in the forest, saw it whole, then saw it abandoned, as if it had been gutted decades before. Her power was astounding. And because he could not explain it, something deep within him was very afraid. And he thought of how Merry had tried to escape Jason of Brennan because she’d sensed evil in him, as she’d once sensed evil in her mother. But now—

His head hurt.

51

LONDON

It was a fine day in June when Garron stood before the King of England, the queen at his right hand, Burnell at his left. Merry had moved to stand with the queen’s ladies along the far wall, which was covered with beautiful tapestries sewn by Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine herself in the last century.

The piles of silver coins were safely locked in the king’s coffers. Jason of Brennan and Sir Halric were in the dungeon.

Edward said to Garron, his voice weary, “There is such strife in the land. The Welsh and the Scots are eagerly slitting any English throats they can catch, and destroying English lands.” He sat back in his throne, crossed his long legs, and tented his fingers. “After the Holy Land, I never believed life could become so grim again, but it has. And now you present me with problems that will doubtless fill my royal craw to overflowing.” His vivid blue eyes lightened a bit. “At least you bring me enough silver to equip my army so I may crush the Scots, then the infernal Welsh. Very well, let us deal with this. Robbie has told me the substance, but now I require all the needful details. What say you, Garron?”

“I thank you, sire, for convincing Jason of Brennan to tell you where he was holding my brother. I only pray he did not torture Arthur beyond recovery.”

Edward did not particularly care, truth be told. “We will see. Lord Ranulf will be here shortly, as will Abbess Helen of Meizerling.”

Garron nodded. “You asked me what I have to say, sire. I say that once you have assembled all the players, then our mystery play will begin, and hopefully all will become clear, to both of us.”

“Only the final act, Garron, only the final act. I wish to speak to you first for I have never known you to lie or twist the truth for your advantage, unless you have changed. Have you?”

“No sir, I have not changed, even though I was an earl for a short time.”

The king gave him a sour smile. “Come with me. Robbie, you wait here.”

A servant scurried forward and pulled aside a rich velvet curtain behind the king’s throne. The king walked into a small opulent chamber that held a beautifully carved table he’d brought back with him from Sicily, four magnificent gilt chairs, gifts from the Doge of Venice, surrounding it. There were no windows. The walls were covered with vivid Flemish tapestries. It was the king’s sanctuary, perfectly silent and private. The king motioned Garron to sit. “Robbie tells me you have willingly given up claim to wed the heiress of Valcourt.”

“Aye.”

“I believed, as did Eleanor, that you would make a fine lord for Valcourt. However, given what has happened, Valcourt will be administered by one of my men until—well, until there is a new Earl of Valcourt. But the fact is, Garron, if your brother lives, you will no longer be the Earl of Wareham. You will no longer have a title or holdings, you will no longer have any wealth at all since you spent it all on Wareham. All this—if your brother lives.”

The king rose and began to pace the room. His legs were so long it did not take him long to turn and stride back. “So what should I do about you, Garron, if your brother is indeed still alive?”