The Conqueror by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce [Joyce, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780307567291
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-07-22T04:00:00+00:00

Ceidre stared hard at the royal messenger.

A week had passed since that abrupt interview. Every morning Ceidre had awakened with dread that Rolfe would summon her to him again, this time divulging the identity of a groom and stating his intention to see her wed. She knew, if he chose to do so, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She was afraid.

Yet the summons did not come. Instead, life crept lazily along. Most of the inhabitants of the manor were moved into the new keep, herself included. The manor, now enclosed in the bailey, served as another hall where the excess of Rolfe’s men and servants could sleep. The Norman tower was hot and airless, and Ceidre hated it. The ground floor was used for storage, the first as the hall. On the top story were the lord and lady’s chamber, as well as a solar and antechamber. Ceidre slept in the great hall, below Rolfe and Alice, with Guy ever present and nearby.

She had been given nothing to do since Rolfe’s return. She spent most of her time with her grandmother, in the village, away from him and his new, monstrously ugly building. She gained back all the weight she had lost, maybe a touch more. She felt strong again, and her near brush with death was almost, but not quite, reduced to the memory of a bad dream.

Ceidre just happened to be in the great hall fetching a clean undertunic from her pallet, carefully rolled up and shoved into a far corner. It was dark in the cavernous hall, darker still in its corners, and she froze when Rolfe and another man, dressed for travel, entered. Blinking in the dim light, it took her only a second to see that he was a royal messenger.

She stared at him.

Rolfe shouted for wine and refreshments and the two men sat carelessly at the long trestle table. Rolfe leaned back in his chair, unaware of her presence, as Mary came in with bread, cheese, pies, ale, and wine. The messenger began to eat ravenously, draining first one cup of wine, then another.

Ceidre hunched closer into herself.

“I am in no rush,” Rolfe said. “There is no need to act the wolf.”

“I rode hard, my lord,” the messenger responded, mouth full. “The king’s orders.” With a greasy hand, the messenger extracted a scroll and shoved it at Rolfe.

Rolfe took it but did not open it. He toyed with the string without untying it. “What news at York?”

“Two Danish vessels were spotted just off the coast,” the messenger mumbled. “Another invasion was feared. Yet they went right past. ’Twas most strange.”

Rolfe said nothing.

“The king is pleased with the rebuilding of the castle and has named Odo’s bastard, Jean, castellan. Scots raided Lareby and burned the village to the ground. Odo took a royal force and repelled them, chasing them far into Cumbria. That is all,” he finished, reaching for a pie.

Ceidre’s heart was pounding. The missive, the missive, she prayed. If only they would discuss it.

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