Page 31 of Hers To Command
“When did your father die?”
“The fifth of September.”
“How long had he been ill?”
“Since last year. Yet his mind was not affected by his illness, not even at the end.”
“I believe you,” he answered simply, “but Roald will certainly argue otherwise.”
Careful not to touch him again, Mathilde returned the will to its box and began taking writing materials from the aumbry—a quill, a vessel of ink and a roll of parchment, which she sat upon the table.
“What are you doing?” Henry asked.
“I am going to write to the bishop. He will surely agree that the new will is valid.”
Henry’s brows furrowed with puzzlement. “The church has no authority over who inherits land. That is for the king’s court to decide.”
“I am well aware of that,” Mathilde said as she settled in the chair to write, “but they do have some authority over wills. If I have the bishop’s agreement that my father’s second will rightly overrules the first, Roald will have less of a case to take before the king’s court.” She slid Sir Henry a sidelong, questioning glance. “Roald seems convinced that the king will support his claim, no doubt believing that means he will triumph in the courts, as well. You have met the king and queen. Do you think it likely Roald is right to seek their aid?”
Sir Henry shrugged his broad shoulders. “I believe that if the king offers his support to anyone, his choice will depend upon who will be of more use to him. But Roald is also related to the queen, as you must be.”
“My father never sought close ties with her family, as Roald’s did.”
To his dismay, Sir Henry’s expression did not change. “Unfortunately, I fear Roald won’t be content to wait for judgment. I can more easily see him raising an army of the most battlehardened mercenaries he can find and trying to take Ecclesford by force.”
Mathilde tried to subdue her increasing dread. “We have heard he is deeply in debt. How could he pay for such an army?”
“I’m sure he could find moneylenders willing to gamble that he’ll win, or that the queen will back his claim, and once the estate is his, he’ll be able to repay them.”
“Oh, God!” Mathilde cried softly, rising, for she could well believe this, too. “He cannot take Ecclesford and if he tries, we must fight him. Wewillfight him—and we will win!”
Sir Henry’s lips curved up in an approving smile that was more threatening to her self-control than any threat of Roald’s. “I thought you were a brave, determined woman,” he said quietly. “Now Iknowyou are.”
She couldn’t meet his steadfast gaze. “I am also a ruined woman who will never marry.”
Query flickered across his face, but it was just as quickly gone. What else could she expect—that he would disagree?
“I am glad you are staying to lead the garrison,” she said. “I do not know what we would do without your help.”
“Oh, Cerdic and your men could probably manage,” he replied, apparently studying the pattern of the stone at his feet. “But you could lose more men than you need to.”
“I had hoped to avoid losing any.”
“I trust they appreciate your concern, and I will do all I can to see that they’re prepared, should Roald attack,” he said, raising his head. “Even if he rides to London today, Roald isn’t important enough to get an audience with the king and queen at once. And if he has decided to raise an army, that will take some time, too. Nevertheless, we have no time to waste. I shall leave you to your letter and go to inspect the state of your men’s armor and their weapons.”
She nodded and bent to her letter writing as he went out the door.
ASHENRY STRODEacross the courtyard toward the barracks, he felt more resolute and determined than he ever had in his life. He was going to make Roald de Sayres pay for what he’d done, to Lady Mathilde, to that little serving girl and God knew how many others. The man was a beast, a lout, a plague and Henry was going to destroy him.
No wonder Lady Mathilde had shied away from him that night. No wonder she seemed so tense when they were alone.
God save him, he could barely stand the scent of wet stone after his days in the dungeon and the slightest scratching sound reminded him of the rats and made him shiver. For her, being alone with a man must be like being locked in a small dark room would be for him—nearly unbearable.
Yet she’d not just overcome her fear when she was with him, a man who had done her no harm and never would; with defiance and courage she’d faced the man who had so vilely used her.
Now he understood why she had looked at him as she had when he’d told her about that girl and challenged him about letting Roald go.
He came to an abrupt halt, suddenly sickened. If he’d had Roald imprisoned that night, if he’d summoned the watch and had him charged with rape, Mathilde would have been spared. She need not have suffered.
