A Kingdom of Dreams Read online

  His gaze shifted to the horizon. "Only you, my lady. And your lady aunt."

  Angry and humiliated, Jenny turned away, and then it occurred to her that Royce had undoubtedly sent Arik with Aunt Elinor—not as her escort but her guard.

  "I know another place," Friar Gregory suggested mildly, taking her arm and guiding her back across the wide bailey.

  "I can't believe this!" Jenny whispered angrily. "I'm a prisoner here."

  Friar Gregory made a sweeping gesture with his hand that encompassed everything in the enormous bailey. "Ah, but what a glorious prison it is," he commented with an appreciative smile. "Beautiful beyond any castle I've seen."

  "A prison," Jenny informed him darkly, "is a prison!"

  "It's possible," the priest said without arguing her valid point, "that your husband has reasons, other than those which you think, for wanting to keep you within the bounds of his complete protection." Without realizing where he was taking her, she'd followed him to the chapel. He opened the door and stood back for her to enter.

  "What sort of reasons?" she asked as soon as they were within the dim, cool confines of the chapel.

  Friar Gregory gestured to a polished oak chair and Jenny sat down. "I don't know, of course," he said. "But his grace does not strike me as a man who ever acts without good reason."

  Startled, Jenny stared hard at him. "You like him, don't you, Friar?"

  "Yes, but more importantly, do you like him?"

  Jenny threw up her hands. "Until a few minutes ago, when I discovered I cannot leave the bailey, I'd have answered yes."

  Friar Gregory crossed his arms, his hands and wrists concealed by the full white sleeves of his robe. "And now?" he asked, cocking one blond eyebrow, "after you've discovered it—do you still like him?"

  Jennifer shot him a rueful smile and nodded helplessly.

  "I'd say that answers that," he said drolly, sliding into the chair beside her. "Now then, what did you wish to speak to me about in such secret?"

  Jenny bit her lip, trying to think how to explain it. "Have you noticed anything—well—odd about everyone's attitude? Not to me, but to my husband?"

  "Odd in what respect?"

  Jenny told him of seeing the maids cross themselves whenever Royce was near, and also mentioned she'd thought it strange when no one cheered their returning master in the village yesterday. She finished with the story of the maids' amusement when she inadvertently confirmed the rumor about damaging his clothes and blankets.

  Instead of being scandalized by Jenny's destructiveness, Friar Gregory eyed her with something akin to amused admiration. "Did you really—cut up their blankets?"

  She nodded uneasily.

  "You're a female of amazing courage, Jennifer, and I sense you're going to need it in future dealings with your husband."

  " 'Twasn't courageous at all," she admitted with a wry laugh. "I'd no idea I'd be there to see his reaction, since Brenna and I were planning to escape the very next morning."

  "You shouldn't have destroyed the blankets they needed for warmth in any case, but I'm certain you realize that," he added. "Now, shall I attempt to answer your question about the villagers 'odd' reaction to their new lord?"

  "Yes, please. Am I imagining all this?"

  Friar Gregory abruptly stood up, wandering over to a bank of candles before an elaborate cross, and idly righted a candle that had fallen over. "You're not imagining anything. I've been here only a day, but the people here have been without a priest for more than a year, so they've been only too eager to talk to me." Frowning, he turned to her. "Are you aware that your husband laid siege to this very place eight years past?"

  When Jennifer nodded, he looked relieved.

  "Yes, well, have you ever seen a siege? Seen what happens?"

  "No."

  " 'Tis not a pretty sight to be sure. There's a saying that 'when two nobles quarrel, the poor man's thatch goes up in flames,' and 'tis true. It's not only the castle and its owners who suffer, 'tis also the villeins and serfs. Their crops are filched by defenders and attackers alike, their children are killed in the fray, and their homes are destroyed. It's not unusual for an attacker to deliberately set fire to the countryside about the castle, to destroy the fields and orchards, and even to murder the laborers, to prevent them from being enlisted by the defenders."

  Although none of this was completely new to Jenny, she'd never before been at the site of a siege during it or immediately afterward. Now, however, as she sat in the peaceful little chapel that stood on land that Royce had once laid siege to, the picture took on an unpleasant clarity.

  "There's no doubt that some of these things were done by your husband when he laid siege to Claymore, and, while I'm certain his motives were impersonal and that he acted in the best interest of the Crown, the peasantry cares little for noble motives when they've been impoverished by a battle in which they have nothing to gain and everything to lose."

  Jenny thought of the clans in the highlands who fought and fought, without complaint about the deprivations, and shook her head in bewilderment. "It's different here."

  "Unlike the members of your clans, especially the highlanders, the English peasantry does not share in the spoils of victory," Friar Gregory said, understanding her dilemma and trying to explain. "Under English law, all the land actually belongs to the king. The king then bestows parcels of this land upon his favored nobles as rewards for loyalty or special service. The nobles choose the sites they wish for their own demesne and then they grant the peasant a measure of land for himself, in return for which the vassal is expected to work two or three days a week on the lord's fields or to give manorial service at the castle. Naturally, they are also expected to contribute a measure of grain or produce from time to time.

  "In times of war or famine, the lord is morally—but not legally—obliged to protect the interests of his serfs and villeins. Sometimes they do protect them, but usually only if it's of benefit to themselves."

  When Friar Gregory fell silent, Jenny said slowly, "Do you mean they fear my husband won't protect them? Or do you mean they hate him for laying siege to Claymore and burning the fields?"

  "Neither." Ruefully, Friar Gregory said, "The peasantry is a philosophical lot, and they expect to have their fields burned every generation or so when their lord is embroiled in a battle with one of his peers. But in the case of your husband, it's different."

  "Different?" Jenny repeated. "In what way?"

  "He has made a life of battles, and they fear that all his enemies will begin descending on Claymore one after another to exact revenge. Or that he will invite them here to feed his love of war."

  'That's ridiculous," Jenny said.

  "True, but it will take time before they realize it."

  "And I thought they'd be proud because he's—he's a hero to the English."

  "They are proud. And they're relieved and confident that he, unlike his predecessor, will be willing and able to defend them if the need arises. His strength, his might, is greatly to his advantage in this instance. Actually, they're completely in awe of him."

  "Terrified of him, it would seem," Jenny said unhappily, recalling the way the maids reacted to his presence.

  "That, too, and for good reason."

  "They have no good reason to be terrified of him that I can see," Jenny replied with great conviction.

  "Ah, but they do. Put yourself in their minds: their new lord is a man who's called the Wolf—named for a vicious, rapacious animal who attacks and devours its victims. Moreover, legend—not fact, but legend—has it that he's ruthless to anyone who crosses him. As their new lord, he also has the right to decide what taxes to levy upon them, and he will naturally sit in judgment on disputes and mete out punishment to wrongdoers, as is his right. Now then," Friar Gregory said with a pointed look, "given his reputation for mercilessness and viciousness, is he the sort of man you'd want deciding all this for you?"

  Jenny was irate. "Oh, but he isn't merciless or vicious.