Page 137 of The Daughters of Avalon
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Not only had the lord of Alderghnotreturned from his council at Carlisle, Giles was gone now, as well. With the steward’s permission, he’d requisitioned two men from Aldergh’s garrison, and before leaving, presented the reliquary andgrimoireto Cora’s husband for safekeeping, explaining that the items were priceless and every care should be taken to safeguard them. In turn, Alwin presented the items to Cora, and Cora handed both the book and reliquary to Rosalynde, looking perfectly confused over their value. To her undiscerning eyes, the reliquary would seem to be little more than a brass bauble, and the book must have appeared a dirty volume with the look of a Holy Writ, only with yellowed pages and vellum that was already cracked and blackened with age.
Her heart tripping with the news that Giles had so easily departed—essentially abandoning her at Aldergh—Rosalynde took the book and gave it to her sister.
At least the book was safe, and truly, that’s what mattered, she told herself, and yet, her heart felt as though it might be rent in two, and Giles still had the lion’s share.
Despondent though she was, she understood Elspeth’s intake of breath as her fingers touched the sacred volume. Its hallowedpages must be more than five hundred years old, but the spells and recipes held therein were easily a thousand or more. Not since Elspeth was a small girl had she laid eyes upon their grandmother’sgrimoire, and, in truth, until they’d arrived in London, none of the sisters had ever even looked upon it. Only Elspeth had ever had the chance to hold it and open it, under the supervision of Morgan Pendragon.
“Wemustkeep it safe,” Rosalynde entreated. “On pain of death. Mother must never see the Book of Secrets again.”
“I have precisely the place to keep it,” Elspeth reassured, and then led Rosalynde to her salon, to a corner of the chamber, where the floorboards were loose. She lifted a board, and set the book beneath, then replaced the floorboard, and peered up at Rose while still on her knees, her blue eyes full of concern. And it was in that instant Rosalynde weakened.
Tears sprang to her eyes—tears she could no longer deny. “He’s gone, Elspeth,” she said, her face twisting with grief.
Her sister’s brows slanted unhappily as she rose to her feet, embracing Rosalynde, putting her warm, comforting arms about her. “Here, here,” she said. “I am here, Rose. Do not fret. I am here.” And she let her sister comfort her, sinking like a hopeless child into her consoling arms.
So many weeks she’d traveled to arrive here, so much peril she’d endured—she and Giles both together. But now he was gone.Gone.And he had ridden away to see to his own affairs without so much as a bittersweet so long.
Carlisle Castle laybut an easy half-day’s journey from Aldergh. The jewel of Cumberland was impossible to miss, with its fiery red stone and enormous girth.
Having gathered his most trusted advisors to discuss his new stratagem—a possible siege of York—the king of Scotia was in residence, sequestered behind closed doors. Giles needed only present his Paladin sword, with the serpentine emblem, and he was admitted at once.
Without a word, he took an empty seat among the men gathered and listened quietly as the Scots king carried on about the strengths and weaknesses of York and the benefits of controlling the archdiocese there. Already, he held Bamburgh, Newcastle and Carlisle, and Giles suspected that, if he could, he would bring the entirety of the ancient kingdom of Northumbria under his dominion. Regrettably, he would soon learn that the Church would not sanction this plan. There was already a plan in motion, and it did not include negotiations with yet another contender, regardless of David’s intentions or associations.
David of Scotia was well respected by the Church, else he’d never have been brought into the inner sanctum, but that didn’t matter. And now that Rosalynde and her book were both safe, he had a job to see to, and, knowing what he knew now, there was all the more at stake—not merely the fate of a northern estate, or even a kingdom.
As God was his witness, he’d never coveted Warkworth for the sake of a title. His father had earned the lands through sweat and blood. He’d answered every call to arms by King Henry, and he’d raised his sons to honor England and its God-appointed sovereign. And even after Stephen usurped the throne, Richard de Vere had been prepared to keep the King’s Peace. It wasn’t until very recently that he’d turned his eyes toward the Empress, aligning himself with Matilda, and Giles had had a hand in that matter. When the Church asked him to approach his sire in the name of the Empress, he had done so without reservation. He had convinced the elder de Vere to join their cause. This, after all, was why Wilhelm was sent to Arundel, in order to conveytheir father’s answer to Henry’s widow, who secretly passed his answer to Matilda. Giles suspected that Lady Arundel’s husband discovered the correspondence and immediately dispatched one of Morwen’s ravens—those bloody aberrations. It would have flown directly to its master, not to Stephen, and unfortunately for Warkworth, Morwen and Eustace had been only a few leagues from Warkworth when the message arrived. After his resounding defeat at Aldergh, the king’s incompetent son had endeavored to assuage his puerile ego by teaching the wayward lord of Warkworth a lesson, putting his “adulterine castel” to the torch, with innocents still asleep in their beds. Ultimately, Giles felt responsible for the entire ordeal, and if it were possible, he would have handed Warkworth to his brother lock, stock and barrel.
Right now, he needed the lord of Aldergh’s help, but evidently, this was no longer a matter of one defender of the realm appealing to another. Malcom Scott was no longer Stephen’s man… he was David’s—quite clearly, because here he sat, divulging York’s weaknesses and expounding upon the complications of wresting York from the English. And yet this was far more complicated than even Malcom realized.
Although William FitzHerbert, the king’s nephew, had been deposed and the succession to the archbishopric was still in question, the Pope had yet to decide between Henry Murdac and Hilary of Chichester. The king’s choice was Hilary, and he had already endeavored to deprive Murdac from taking up residence in the city of York, but he was currently negotiating with the Pope. He would give Murdac the archbishopric if only the Pope would agree to coronate his son. The Pope was not in the frame of mind to do so, and yet, neither would he accept a third candidate for the archbishopric, when he had already decided upon Murdac. At the moment, a siege of York would be met with opposition, not only by Stephen, but by the Church as well.
Considering how best to proceed, he waited patiently for his opportunity to speak, then put forth a request: He needed stone to rebuild. He would pay well, and because Warkworth lay so close to the Scots border, he sought the Scots king’s blessings. But, of course, David saw an opportunity and seized it. He offered Giles the chance to retain his title… if only he would give his allegiance to Scotland instead of England. If he should agree to it, he could have all the stone he needed without question, and there would be no risk of losing his lands or, for that matter, his title. David would confer it to him now, on the spot.
A shocked murmur swept through the council. For all that these fools knew, Giles was a younger son of a lowly baron, with no experience and scarcely any influence. It was unthinkable what David had proffered, and yet… Giles could not and would not accept. He shifted in his chair, ill-at-ease, because there was so much he hadn’t leave to say, and the council room was filled with too many curious ears. His gaze skittered down the table, from man to man, resting for a moment on the lord of Bamburgh, whose youngest daughter was wed to his father and had died by Eustace’s hand. There was no love lost between their houses, despite the familial alliance, because Bamburgh bent the knee to David. But for Giles, this was inconsequential. In essence, he was only reclaiming his father’s seat by behest of the Church. And if they had not ordained it… he would still be wielding his sword in whatever capacity they demanded. That he was now a lord of the realm—an earl for the time being—did not come without obligation. There was only so much he could bargain with and keep the spirit of his oath.
He chose his words carefully. “I do not need warriors, Your Grace. I have warriors. I need stone, and whatever men would be required to convey and work the stone. It is my intent to restore Warkworth to a defensible state as swiftly as is humanly possible—most certainly before I am expected to return to London and bend the knee to Stephen.”
“Do you plan to forswear your oath to Stephen?” asked David quite shrewdly.
Giles said naught, for there was naught he could say. He picked at a bit of dried foodstuff encrusted upon the table.
“It sounds as though you mean to forswear England, and if so, who else would you bend the knee to, but David?”
Giles flicked a glance at the lord of Bamburgh but didn’t answer the man. His gaze returned to David.
More than any man present, Giles knew that David understood the significance of his Papal commission, and yet David mac Maíl Choluim was king because he pressed his advantages when he saw the opportunity. “Whatever the case, I haven’t men to spare,” he persisted. “And yet… I would offer… if only you bend the knee to Scotland.”
Giles shook his head, his eyes never leaving the king’s. “I cannot give what is not mine to bestow.”
The tension in the room was marked. In this day and age, few men dared to defy David mac Maíl Choluim. He had risen to such a venerable position. And yet,oneman did speak up—a very unexpected ally, and only by virtue of the fact that Giles had arrived with two of his men. “I can spare you whatever men you need,” said Malcom Scott.
His brows colliding fiercely, David shifted in a chair that was made for lesser men, turning to spear Malcom with a disapproving glare. “Youhave men to spare? And yet, even knowing my plans, you would offer them to Warkworth?”
Giles recognized the hard glimmer in Malcom Scott’s eyes. As would be expected, he was a man not easily cowed. He said, “I have given you my oath, Your Grace, and I mean to keep it.”
