King Tuan nodded heavily. "It would seem his grandson lives by the same rules."
"Wherefore was he ennobled, then?" Alain protested.
"Because he carved an estate out of the rim of the Forest Gellorn. my son." the Queen said, "and your grandfather had need to either put him down or grant him the legitimacy he sought. The man had indeed seen to the clearing of farmland and a better life for fugitives who had run off to the greenwood—nay, even given them a way to rejoin the world, and a guarantee they would not turn robber again. Your grandfather thought him reformed and giving of service to the King and the people, so he granted him a patent of nobility."
"His son has been a rough lord," King Tuan said, "but a fair one, by all accounts, and has seen his people prosper, though he has governed them with an iron hand."
"It would seem that the grandson has kept the iron hand," Alain said, "but has lost the prosperity, at least for his people."
"He must be chastised," Catherine said, pale with anger. "No lord may treat his people thus and be safe from the Queen's Justice!"
"Even so," Tuan agreed, "but we must have proof of his misdeeds, for if we move against him without showing that he has broken the law, all other lords will rise in revolt."
"They would not dare!" But it was bluster; Catherine had already faced one such revolt and had put it down only with the help of Tuan, Rod Gallowglass, and the High Witch Gwendylon.
Geoffrey rose with a wolfish grin. "I shall find that proof, sire. I shall go in disguise and witness his misdeeds myself."
"I, too!" Alain was on his feet in the instant, chin firm.
"You shall do no such thing!" Catherine had finally found a target for her anger. "What, sirrah! Shall we risk the heir? What would the land do if you were slain?"
"There is Diarmid. ..."
"He shall have his hands full with the Duchy of Loguire! Never think of it, my son! You shall stay close at home! Your mother commands it! You shall not go gallivanting over the land like a fox-errant! Your Queen forbids it!"
Then the ladies brought the maiden in, bandaged, cleaned, and groomed, still pale with shock but clad in a light blue homespun bliaut with a black bodice. Both young men stared, for without the streaks of tears and smudges of soot, she was indeed a beauty.
The Queen turned to consoling, reassuring, and discreetly questioning. Geoffrey caught Alain's eye, jerked his head toward the door, then turned to the King and Queen and asked, "Shall we leave, Majesties?"
"Aye, go," Catherine said absently. "We shall have our hands full here."
Both young men bowed, then sidled out the door.
As it closed behind them, Alain exploded. k My mother commands, my Queen forbids! Am I never to ride forth among my people? How shall I fare if I must lead an army in war when I am King?"
"You may notice that the current King did not forbid the expedition," Geoffrey pointed out.
"What matter's that? He is King only by marriage! It is my mother who is true monarch!"
"Then let her blister your hide with invective after you have returned in victory," Geoffrey said. "Can you not stand her chiding?"
"Of course I can." Alain turned to him with a frown.
"Well, when she is done, she shall have to laud you for having protected her people." Geoffrey grinned. "Ride with me as far as the wood's edge, Alain—and if you should happen to ride farther, I promise I shall not tell."
Alain stared at him a moment. Then he began to grin.
The next morning they both mounted, inhaling the chill of the morning air, eyes bright with the lure of adventure.
Cordelia reached up to give Alain the token he had begged—her scarf. "Be mindful, sir. If there is trouble, only think my name, and I shall fly to you!"
"I shall indeed," Alain promised, "and the thought of you shall strengthen me throughout the journey." He leaned down.
As they kissed, the peasant girl, escorted by a servant woman, came forth from the kitchen door.
Geoffrey smiled down at her. "Will you show us where your village lies, maiden?"
"Gladly, sir." Her voice was so low he could scarcely hear her; her eyes were huge, darting from one to the other. Now that the shock had worn off, she was like a rabbit, frightened by the presence of royalty and nobility.
Alain straightened in the saddle and asked the maiden politely, "Will you ride?"
"Of course she will, Highness." Geoffrey moved his horse closer to the girl and reached down. "But she shall ride upon my mount. You would not risk your fiancee's wrath, would you?"
Cordelia eyed the peasant, whose beauty was considerable now that she had recovered. "Ride with my brother, lass, but ride warily."
"Surely you wrong me, sister!" Geoffrey swung the young woman up behind him. "Ride behind me, lass, and guide us to your people."
"Surely, sir, as you wish it," the young woman said, her voice still low.
"And what shall I tell your fiancee when she returns from her errand of mercy?" Cordelia asked pointedly.
"Shh!" Geoffrey laid a finger across his grin. "Tell her no more than you have to, or she will come to join in the fun."
His grin was wide, but she saw the anxiety that touched his face and was gone. "She has faced an army, brother," Cordelia said softly. "You need not fear for her safety if she joins you in fighting a jumped-up bandit's grandson and his thugs."
"Ah, but before, she had an army of her own," Geoffrey reminded.
"And if you should be hurt in the fray yourself, brother? Is it fair to her to leave her to worry over you?"
"Worry over me?" The anxiety disappeared completely, and Geoffrey's grin was as wide and cocksure as ever. "Come, Cordelia! You need not deal in fantasy!"
While her henchmen gathered their forces and laid their plans, Finister became a bit more deliberate in her attempts. She ambushed a milkmaid, knocked her out with a bolt of mental force, changed clothes with her, and left her to waken and explain to her swain why she was wearing such unattractive charcoal-gray robes that draped her without any hint of a figure and were eight sizes too large for her in the bargain. To be truthful, Finister didn't even think about the effects her actions might have on the milkmaid; she was intent on finding Gregory again.
She found him wandering disconsolately along a woodland path, eyes downcast, shoulders slumping. Elation filled her— had she had some effect after all? Did he miss her already?
Then common sense cleared her mind. He was probably depressed only because she had so easily slipped away from him, and disgusted with himself for having failed in his duty. Either that, or he was contemplating one of his endless problems again.
Well, she would end that, at least.
Chapter 3
Moraga took a moment to adjust her mental screen, projecting a figure even more voluptuous than her own and a face dazzling in its beauty, framed by hair of a rich mahogany. Sure that she would have tempted a eunuch and strained the vows of a monk, she stepped from the underbrush ten feet in front of Gregory's horse, a playful, inviting smile on her lips, eyes heavy-lidded. "Good day, Sir Knight."
"Hmm?" Gregory looked up, startled—as indeed he should have been, for he had been listening to Moraga's thoughts coming closer and closer to him, and if he quailed within at the vengeful tone, no sign of it showed in his face.
But the woman he saw before him bore no resemblance to the dowdy yet sensuous creature he had been escorting. Indeed, the fusty robes had gone, and she wore a blouse, skirt, and bodice that emphasized both the slenderness of her waist and swelling of her hips as well as a spectacular bosom. But the thoughts were Moraga's; he recognized their overtones and emotional color as well as he would recognize a very familiar face. He was startled indeed.