‘As you wish, Empress. What about Haword?’
‘You and your wife can keep it until then. After that...’ she fixed him with a look that was both a challenge and a threat at the same time ‘...you can bring her to me.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Lothar peered down at the white carpet beneath his horse’s hooves and knew that he’d arrived just in time. One week away from Haword and winter seemed to have arrived with a vengeance. Looking out at the snow-filled clouds from his room in Devizes Castle two mornings before, he’d known that he’d had to leave then or not at all. Once the cold weather set in, the roads could easily become impassable, and the last thing he’d wanted was to get cut off from his new wife.
He’d already stayed away longer than he’d intended. Despite what she’d said, Matilda had seemed in no hurry to dismiss him, wanting to talk about her plans for her son Henry instead. He’d had the uneasy feeling that she’d been watching him, too, trying to gauge his behaviour. He’d striven to maintain his usual impenetrable façade, but inside he’d been restless, anxiously counting the hours of his absence. The idea of Juliana looking after her father on her own set his teeth on edge every time he thought of it. What if she needed him? What if she wasn’t sleeping again? Whether she wanted him there or not, surely a husband’s place was at her side?
At last he’d been unable to stand the tension any longer. He’d finally asked permission to leave, though it had taken Matilda another full day to give him an answer. He’d actually thought she’d been going to refuse, though for the life of him, he hadn’t been able to understand why. She’d already admitted that she’d no more stomach for fighting and she hardly needed a bodyguard in Devizes Castle, so what could it possibly matter to her where he spent the winter? Ultimately, he was left with the same strange suspicion of jealousy he’d felt on his way to Devizes, only this time from a different source, as if both the women in his life were jealous of each other when neither had any cause to be. He had a strong attachment to both of them, but the feelings—no, he corrected himself—the way he thought about each of them was completely different.
At last, the ramshackle tower of Castle Haword rose up out of the snowy twilight ahead of them and he felt a swell of relief. If it had been safe, he would have taken the last part of the journey at a gallop, but instead he had to control himself as much as his stallion, reining in his anticipation until he thundered across the drawbridge.
‘Sergeant?’
He heard Ulf call out the moment he entered the bailey.
‘What’s happened?’ One look at the Constable’s face told him something was wrong. ‘He’s dead?’
‘The evening you left.’
He swung out of his saddle at once. ‘The same evening?’
‘Yes, sir. There was no pain. He just slipped away in his sleep, but Lady Juliana... She took it badly, sir.’
He swore violently. ‘Where is she?’
‘Up on the roof.’ Ulf gestured up at the gatehouse. ‘She’s been there every day since.’
‘Outside? In this weather?’
‘She won’t come down, sir. I’ve tried everything.’
‘It’s all right.’ He put a reassuring hand on the Constable’s shoulder. ‘See to my horse. I’ll fetch her.’
He ran up the gatehouse steps, wishing now that he’d insisted on leaving Devizes earlier. He seemed to have done nothing but comfort women for the past few weeks, but this time he felt as if the pain were his, too. He hadn’t felt even half so worried when he’d gone to Matilda.
‘Juliana?’ He flung open the trapdoor at the top of the stairwell, holding an arm over his head to peer through the gathering snowflakes, but there was no sign of her.
‘You came back.’
The voice was faint, but he honed in on it at once, feeling a strange, cracking sensation in his chest as he did so. She was sitting in the far corner, wrapped up in a woollen cloak the same grey shade as the stone around her, as if she were trying to blend in with the wall.
‘I said I would.’ He crossed the roof in two strides and crouched down beside her, gently lifting the hood from her face. ‘Ulf told me what happened.’
‘He was sleeping.’ Her voice was so quiet that he had to lean closer to hear it. ‘When you left, he was sleeping, but then...he just never woke up.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He reached out for her hand. It felt like a block of ice. ‘If I’d known... Forgive me.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She looked up at last with eyes that seemed alarmingly blank, as if the spark in them had gone out. ‘It just happened.’
He tightened his grip on her hand convulsively. Her very calmness was unnerving, so unlike her that he felt almost afraid. He would have rather she attacked him than this.
‘Come inside.’
‘No.’ She shook her head slowly, but firmly. ‘I like it up here. I feel as if I’ve been inside for months. I want air.’
‘You’ve had enough. You’ll catch your death if you stay up here. That’s not what your father would have wanted.’