Page 69 of Hers To Command
“I must say this is an unexpected pleasure,” Roald said. “I trust you didn’t come alone.”
“No,” she lied. Let him think there was an armed escort awaiting her outside. “Nor did I come to exchange pleasantries with you.” She ran a haughty, derisive gaze over De Mallemaison. “Or your lackeys.”
“What of yours?” Roald retorted, returning to the cushioned, thronelike chair she had sat upon many times when she’d visited the reeve. “How fares the handsome Sir Henry? I understand the poor fellow is seriously wounded,” he finished with a triumphant glance at De Mallemaison.
“If you’ve been told that, you’ve been misinformed,” she replied. “He suffered a minor cut. You know how head wounds can bleed—or you would, if you ever actually fought.”
She was pleased to see Roald scowl and felt a surge of triumph herself. “No, I assure you, Sir Henry is quite well and, indeed, anxious to fight again. But I said to him, why waste the effort? It is clear Roald cannot win with that rabble he’s hired.”
She fixed her steadfast gaze on her cousin. “So I have come to spare your worthless life, Roald, which you will surely lose if you attempt to attack Ecclesford again. I have come to accept your surrender and let you leave in peace.”
Roald stared at her with stunned disbelief.
“You underestimated us, didn’t you?” she continued with every outward sign of confidence. “You expected an easy victory, and now you have discovered it will not be so. Indeed, youcannotwin against Sir Henry and my men, so unless you are an even greater fool than I think, you will take this chance I offer and end this now. My sister and I will let you leave in peace, as long as you promise to sail back to Provence and never trouble us again.”
To her dismay, De Mallemaison laughed, a harsh and terrible sound, as he sheathed his sword. “Surrender? The woman’s mad!”
“I am quite sane,” she replied, her voice steadier than her knees. “I fear it is you who suffer from delusions if you think you can take the castle. Today’s efforts should have shown you that you have no hope of doing so.”
“You think so?” Roald spluttered.
“As would any person of any intelligence—which perhaps explains why that truth has eluded you and this—” she curled her lip as she glanced at De Mallemaison “—fellow.”
De Mallemaison laughed again and threw himself onto the back stool. “The wenchismad.” He ran a scornful gaze over Mathilde. “And ugly, too. At least the other one looks good.” He stroked himself suggestively. “You know what I’m going to do when I get my hands on her, don’t you, my lady? Or are you too stupid to guess?”
His insults couldn’t hurt her. Henry’s wounds in her cause gave her much greater pain. As for this man’s action…
“Are you really going to take counsel from this disgusting pig?” she asked Roald, who gripped the arms of his chair as if for dear life. “Are you truly willing to put your fate inhisfilthy hands? What does he stand to lose if you are defeated? He will simply hire himself out to some other nobleman who requires a murderer. He will not have to face the king’s wrath. He will not be excommunicated by the church for defying their judgment.”
She ran another contemptuous gaze over Roald’s henchman. “He’s probably already excommunicated. But you, Roald,” she said, looking back at her cousin, “you could lose all, including your life.”
Roald shot out of the chair, his face red, breathing hard. “The king agrees that Ecclesford ismine.”
The more upset Roald grew, the calmer Mathilde became. As he panicked, she found tranquility. With his fear, she found peace. “Then why have we not received any messages from the king to tell us this? Why has he sent no courtier, no messenger, no document, no word of his decision?”
“Ecclesford ismine!” Roald shouted, smacking the back of the chair. “It was always intended to be mine, until you—you whore, you stupid slut—made your father change his will.”
“I? I did not make him do that. You did, when you raped his daughter and abused his trust.”
“He never wanted me to have it and that was his excuse!” Roald bellowed, his eyes full of bitter rage. “He always hated me and so did your haughty sister, thinking she was too good to even talk to me. But you weren’t too good for me, were you, Mathilde? I showedthemthey couldn’t treat me like dirt beneath their heels!”
He had raped her because he was angry at her father and Giselle? She was just the object of his vengeance, and barely a person in his eyes? The last of her shame and fear of him disappeared. “You loathsome little toad,” she said quietly.
“Bishop Christophus will support my claim!” Roald roared as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Because you have offered him a bribe to do so?” she said evenly. “So havewe.”
“Christophus hates Henry. He’ll never help you now that you’ve enlisted that Norman’s aid.”
“Come, Roald, I thought you were a clever man,” she chided. “Do you not see that for a man like Christophus, profit outweighs personal feelings—rather like a mercenary, albeit one in holy robes instead of armor.
“And since you mention Henry—have you forgotten his family? What do you think the lord of Dunkeathe will do when he hears you’ve attacked a castle commanded by his brother? Or the lord of Tregellas? Even after we win, do you think they will ever forgive or forget?”
The color drained from Roald’s face.
“You’re not going to let this woman scare you, are you?” De Mallemaison demanded in a low growl, reminding them he was there. “We’ve got the advantage. That castle has but one wall, one gate. We can take it tomorrow.” He got to his feet and came toward Mathilde. “This is a trick.”
Mathilde no longer feared Roald, but De Mallemaison was another matter. “Don’t touch me!”
