Priscilla Royal - Tyrant of the Mind

“That was not the first time we have come close to blows.”

Eleanor frowned. “I remember Henry as an ill-humored boy on occasion, Robert, but he could be sufficiently pleasant too. I recall that you both got along well enough in the past, although you oft had disagreement with each other and you were closer to George. What has caused such hard strife between you now?”

Robert looked down, then released his sister’s hands. He motioned to a stool. “Please sit, brother. Both you and my sister must be weary. Would you share some wine with me?” He walked over to the ewer and gestured to some cups. “I may be a prisoner here, but my father has not chosen to starve me or to withhold wine from his store.”

Eleanor nodded approval for Thomas to take refreshment, then refused the same for herself. She watched her brother and waited.

“I know you await my answer, Eleanor,” Robert said as he concentrated on pouring the wine for Thomas. Then he stared down at his hands and they began to shake. He quickly put the ewer down but could not manage to release the cup he held. “I bear his blood still! I fear I…”

Thomas rushed over to Robert and took the cup away from him. “I will pour for both of us, my lord, but first let me bring you a basin of water for washing.”

Robert resumed his seat next to his sister and sat in silence, staring at his hands. When Thomas brought the basin and held it for him, he briefly swirled one hand in the water, his eyes unblinking as he watched the water turn pink with Henry’s blood.

Eleanor rested her hand on her brother’s arm. He moaned, then sagged forward, his head bowed, his back bent. For all his youth in years, he now had the look of a very frail, very old man.

“Aye, Henry was tolerable as a child,” he said, at last finding his voice, “although we did quarrel even then. However, you surely knew that he has always fancied the Lady Isabelle. Being of an age, he expected they would be married.” Robert’s words faded into a mumble.

“As did we all,” Eleanor replied, her voice soft with affection.

“When his father married her instead, Henry became quarrelsome. On the occasions when our families were together, I watched the worm of jealousy eat away at him until his humors became quite unbalanced. He grew more sullen with his father and his behavior toward his stepmother was often rude when they were alone together. Indeed, she found his manner quite distasteful.”

“Did she speak of this to her husband?” Thomas asked.

“I do not know in truth, but her discomfort and Henry’s behavior were surely the subject of common talk. Sir Geoffrey must have been aware, but whether he learned of it from his own observation, from his wife, or another source I do not know. Nor do I know if he and Henry had private words on the matter. The incident at the mid-day meal yesterday, however, was only one of the more extreme public scenes between father and son.”

“You did know that Lady Isabelle found his attentions inappropriate. Did she speak with you about them? Was this the cause of the hostility between you and Henry?” Eleanor asked.

Robert stiffened. “She did not need to speak of her feelings. The displeasure was clear from her expression. The matter between Henry and me came to a head in another way altogether. In view of our youthful friendship and the coming union of our families, I saw no reason to avoid contact with the Lady Isabelle. Out of respect to Sir Geoffrey, I never did so unless she was properly attended, and my manner toward her was always both courteous and most brotherly. I soon learned that Henry took offence at any speech I had with her. I decided to avoid her company for fear that my presence would add to her pain.”

“But you did not continue to avoid her,” Thomas said. “This morning I saw you walking with the Lady Juliana and her stepmother was walking just behind.”

Robert looked sharply at Thomas. “Aye, but that was different.”

“You could not have had either lady’s maid with you instead?” Eleanor asked.

Her brother shook his head. “The Lady Isabelle insisted on accompanying us herself. She has joined with her husband as an ally of the marriage, and we all assumed Henry would be occupied with the family consultations over the union.”

“What was Henry’s opinion on this wedding?” Eleanor asked.

“He was not happy. In fairness to the man, now that he lies so foully murdered and cannot speak for himself, I will not conjecture a reason.”

“I cannot understand why he would be so displeased. You would not be living with the Lavenhams, although the marriage might bring you into more frequent contact with Isabelle.” Eleanor continued to study her brother’s face.

Robert shrugged. “True.”

“What were the circumstances of this planned union?” Thomas asked. “Perhaps a clue to his reasons can be found therein?”

“Brother Thomas’ question has merit. Tell us from the beginning what the circumstances were, Robert.”

“When our father asked me about the possibility of marriage with Juliana, I told him that I felt no desire for her but I did respect the lady, and such an alliance between our families would surely be a happy one. George assured me that she and I would gain contentment from such a union. Knowing us both well, he felt we would be compatible enough, indeed good companions in a life together. That was quite acceptable to me.”

Eleanor smiled briefly. “Like our lord father, you are a most practical man.”

Robert reached out for her hand again. “As children, Juliana and I had liked each other well enough. We probably knew each other better than most, who know nothing of the other spouse until their first intimacy in the marriage bed.”

“Well said, Robert,” Thomas replied.

“Surely Henry did not object to the lack of passion between you,” Eleanor said.

“Nay, George told me that Henry would object to any marriage for Juliana. He wanted her to take the veil.”

“Why?” Eleanor asked. “He would have saved little by that. A nun must bring land or coin to the convent as surely as a wife does to an earthly husband.”

Robert shook his head. “I should not suggest reasons that Henry can neither refute nor defend.”

“The sheriff will not have such scruples, sweet brother. I would rather hear what your thoughts are than a stranger’s.”

“Perhaps he was afraid that any marriage would take more from his inheritance than he cared to give, that he would surrender less to a convent than to a husband. Perhaps he thought it would bring any man into closer contact with Lady Isabelle and his jealousy could not bear the thought. I have suspected both at one time or another but cannot say which is the more accurate. If either.”

Perhaps such would be questions to pursue with Sir Geoffrey’s wife, Eleanor thought. “In truth, Isabelle’s behavior was not always an example of modesty and propriety from what I saw. She did tend to fuel the fires of jealousy. At dinner, I saw her hand on your thigh, Robert, something a wife does not do to a man who is not her husband, unless…” She hesitated. “Was such behavior common between you?”

Her brother flushed. “Nay, sister! It is true that she does love to put flame near wood. Nevertheless, her pleasure is only in watching the fire char the branch. Indeed, what she did last night was more accidental than deliberate. She had had too much wine at dinner.”

How speedily he has come to her defense, Eleanor noted with concern. She glanced at Brother Thomas and saw his frown. Perhaps he, too, questioned her brother’s all too quick response. She took a deep breath and continued. “Perhaps she had, but now I must ask how it happened that you should be found with Henry’s body, a dagger in your hand, outside the Lady Isabelle’s room while she cowered close by with no sign that her husband was near.”