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Odo sat by the fire, silent, staring into the flames with his lopsided face as if he were a foreigner in a foreign land and they were all strangers. Against the door, two of Radulf’s men sat, trying to look alert as they did guard duty. Mary was asleep by the fire, her face peaceful. Earlier, she had glowed with happiness, exchanging foolish grins with Sweyn, as if they were all alone.
“He loves me,” she had whispered to Briar.
And Briar had finally pushed aside her doubts. Sweyn was a good man—he must be, if he was Ivo’s friend. Mary would be all right, and she was strong. Briar had not realized how strong her sister was, how quickly she had grown up since they arrived in York.
’Twas just as well perhaps, for soon Briar would have a family of her own to take care of.
Mary had been overjoyed at Briar’s news, but a little sad, too. “But does that mean you will leave York now, Briar? That you will go south with Ivo?”
Briar had not thought that far ahead, and did not intend to. Time enough later to worry about where they would finally settle. And somewhat to her own surprise, she comprehended that although she would miss her sisters, it was Ivo she wanted to be with, needed to be with. Wherever Ivo was, that would be her true home.
Tonight Ivo had been required at Radulf’s hall, to drink ale with Sweyn and pretend to commiserate over his soon to be vanquished single days. He had gone for Sweyn’s sake rather than his own, and to discuss with Radulf plans to trap Miles into coming into the open. Radulf had begun to turn York inside out in the search for Ivo’s brother, but as yet there had been no sign of him. However they had discovered the men Miles had hired the night he rode at Ivo in the laneway. They were part of the castle garrison, and were to be punished for lending themselves out to a felon.
“You are fortunate in your Ivo.” Jocelyn met her eyes now with a smile. She had hugged Briar tightly when she was told of the impending wedding. “You see,” she had said. “My plan was a good one after all. You made the man so crazy for you, he wants to marry you.”
“How am I fortunate in Ivo, sister?” Briar asked dreamily. She presently felt so content that she felt as if she might actually float. How had it happened that the most terrible mistake of her life had turned into the best decision she had ever made?
“He wants to wed you, and not just because of the babe. He wants to wed you because you are Briar. The man is wild for you. I see it in the way he looks at you. I have seen looks like that before. Possessive, wanting, barely restrained. Aye, sister, you are fortunate indeed.”
Briar turned to her in surprise, for Jocelyn’s voice had been trembling. She did not doubt Jocelyn was pleased for her, but mayhap her happiness had brought back memories of Jocelyn’s own early days of marriage. Days that could never now be repeated.
“Is that how Odo once looked at you, sister?” she asked quietly.
Jocelyn smiled. “Once, aye.” And then her eyes went hard. “Trust me in this, Briar, when I say you must take hold of your good fortune with both hands. Do not hold yourself back. Do not be afraid to give yourself wholly to him, to take what he offers you. Sometimes your time is much shorter than you imagine.”
It was a warning, but well meant. And yet Briar, lying upon her bed later, wondered at her elder sister’s strangeness. Had Jocelyn really been thinking of her own happiness, when Odo was whole? Odo had loved her, Briar was certain of that, and Jocelyn had loved him. Then why had her sister’s eyes been so angry, so unsatisfied? As if she felt she had been duped of her full share.
Am I holding myself back?
Briar didn’t think so. Ivo knew about Filby now, and she knew about Miles and Matilda. Briar’s need for vengeance had vanished, erased by other more important matters. She didn’t want to spend her life hating, or wasting her precious moments of happiness in dark thoughts. She had Ivo and their babe. Out of hatred she had found love, and it was enough.
Selfishly she didn’t want to think about her sister’s unhappiness. She didn’t want to begin imagining what pitfalls lay ahead.
Miles.
The name was like an ill omen. One day Ivo’s brother would appear and try to destroy all her happiness.
Jesu, let Ivo win.
If Ivo had been as unscrupulous and evil as Miles, then he would easily win, but he was not like that. Of course, if he was another like Miles, then Briar would not love him so dearly.
But Briar didn’t want to think beyond tomorrow, her wedding day. She opened her eyes wide into the darkness: Tomorrow, when she would wed Ivo, who had come into her life like a tempest, tossing and turning her about until she did not know up from down. Winning her over despite her own stubbornness.
She loved him.
And it felt as natural to her as breathing.
With a smile, Briar curled up and closed her eyes. Tomorrow would see her joined to Ivo before God and the law and Lord Radulf. But in her heart she knew she was already his.
Dawn was breaking over York on the day of Ivo and Briar’s wedding. Bleary-eyed and cold, the guards at Micklegate Bar looked up at the thunder of hooves approaching from the south. They kept watch day and night at the stout bar that gave entrance through York’s solid walls, and the punishment for dozing off on duty was banishment for a year and a day.
One of them shouted out a warning.
A large troop of men had appeared on the road. They were tough men who looked as if they had ridden far, and they carried a banner at their forefront, an azure banner with a sword upheld. Lord Radulf’s banner, the famous King’s Sword.
“Open up for Lord Radulf!”
The head guard frowned, standing firm. “Lord Radulf is already within.”
