Johanna Lindsey - Johanna Lindsey When Love Awaits

followed as he swept the lady up into his arms. Was she his wife?

The crowd cheered the kiss, and then all at once the melee began, a

mock battle in which all the contestants took part most ferociously. There

were strict rules for a melee, rules which distinguished it from real battle,

but the rules were ignored that morning. It was immediately obvious that

all seven opposing knights meant to unseat the Black Wolf. They

succeeded quickly, and it was only the swift work of his own knights that

prevented him from being defeated. He even had to call them back from

giving chase as his opponents fled the field.

It was over all too soon, and Leonie went home in disappointment, her

only satisfaction being the knowledge that some of the Black Wolf's new

vassals had apparently rejected him as their overlord. Why? She could

not guess what he had done. It was enough to know that his taking

possession of Kempston had not gone easily.

Leonie dismissed Wilda and joined her aunt by the fire, staring

pensively into the flames, remembering the fire in the forest and

wondering what new troubles the future would bring.

"You are worried about our new neighbor?"

Leonie glanced sideways at Beatrix, surprised. She didn't want her

aunt burdened with this.

"What is there to worry about?" Leonie hedged.

"Bless you, child, you need not hide your troubles from me. Do you

think I am not aware of what happens around me?"

Leonie believed just mat. "It is of no great importance, Aunt Beatrix."

"Then we will have no more rude young knights coming to threaten

us with angry words?"

Leonie shrugged. "They are only angry words. Men like to bluster and

snarl."

"Oho, do I not know it."

They both laughed, for of course Beatrix knew more about men than

Leonie did, confined as she had been since the age of thirteen.

Leonie confessed, "I thought we would have visitors today, but no one

came. Perhaps they do not blame us for this day's trouble."

Beatrix frowned thoughtfully, and her niece asked, "Do you think the

Black Wolf might have other plans this time?"

"That is possible. It is a wonder he has not already burned our village."

"He would not dare!" Leonie cried. "He has no proof my serfs have caused his troubles. He has only the accusations of his own serfs."

"Yes, but that is enough for most men. Suspicion is enough." Beatrix sighed.

Leonie's anger drained away. "I know. Tomorrow I will go to the

village and make certain that henceforth no one leaves Pershwick land

for any reason. There will be no more trouble. We must see to that."

Chapter 3

ROLFE d'Ambert threw his helmet hard across the hall the moment

he strode in. His squire, newly acquired from King Henry, hurried to

catch it. The helmet would need a trip to the armorer before he wore it

again, but Rolfe was not thinking of that. Just then, he needed to smash

things.

At the hearth across the large hall, Thorpe de la Mare hid his

amusement at his young lord's display of temper. It was so like the boy

he had been, not the man he was now. Thorpe had seen many such

displays in the years he'd served Rolfe's father. The father was dead these

nine years and Rolfe's older brother had inherited their father's title and

the bulk of his estates in Gascony. The property left to Rolfe was small,

but the greedy brother had wanted even that and had outlawed Rolfe

from his home.

Thorpe left with Rolfe, giving up his comfortable position to follow

the young knight rather than serve the brother. The years since had been

very good, years of fighting as mercenaries, growing rich from the

ransoms won at tourneys. Rolfe was now twenty and nine years to

Thorpe's two score and seven, yet Thorpe never regretted letting the

younger man lead him. Other men felt the same way, and Rolfe had

become a leader to nine knights and nearly two hundred mercenaries, all

of whom had chosen to stay with him now that he was settled.

But was Rolfe settled? Thorpe knew how Rolfe felt about Henry's

generosity. The estate gave him more aggravation than he had

experienced in years. Much more, and Rolfe would be ready to leave it all

and return to France. The estate was something that existed only as an

honor, for it gave nothing tangible and drained his purse daily.

"Did you hear, Thorpe?"

'The servants have talked of nothing else since the woodcutter moved

into the keep for the night," Thorpe replied as Rolfe sat down heavily in the chair next to him.

"Damn me!"

Rolfe slammed a fist down on the small table beside him, opening a

crack down its middle. Thorpe kept his expression carefully blank.

"I have had enough!" Rolfe bellowed. "The well fouled, the herds scattered into the forest, the serfs' few animals stolen, and this was the

third fire. How long to rebuild this hut?"

"Two days with several men working quickly."

"And so the fields will be neglected. How can I wage war when my

flanks are forever being nipped at? Am I to leave Crewel and come back

to find nothing left of it, the serfs run off, the fields barren?"

Thorpe knew better than to answer.

"Do you want men sent to Pershwick again?" Thorpe ventured

carefully. "Will you punish the serfs?"

Rolfe shook his head. "A serf would not act alone. No, serfs follow

orders, and it is the one who gives orders that I want."

"Then you will have to look elsewhere than Pershwick, for I met Sir

Guibert Fitzalan, and I swear that when he heard why I had come, his

surprise was too real to be feigned. He is not a man who would stoop to

this knavery."

"Yet someone there is urging serfs to mischief."

"I agree. But you cannot take the keep. Pershwick belongs to

Montwyn, and Sir William of Montwyn has enough keeps that if you try,

he can summon more men than you are prepared to meet."

"I would not lose," Rolfe said darkly.

"But you would lose your advantage here. Look you how long it has

taken just to win two of the other seven keeps belonging to Kempston."

"Three."

Thorpe raised his brow. "Three? How?"

"I suppose I can thank Pershwick, for when I reached Kenil Keep

today I was so furious over what happened here that I ordered the walls

destroyed. The siege is finished there."

"And Kenil useless until the walls are rebuilt?" It was the only

conclusion.

"I . . . well, yes."

Thorpe said no more. He knew that Rolfe had meant to use catapults

only as a last measure in taking the seven keeps. It was part of a bold

plan, conceived when the tourney failed in bringing the rebellious vassals

to heel. The tourney had been for the benefit of those vassals, giving them

a chance to meet their new lord and judge his skills. But instead of merely

testing his skills with theirs, they had tried to kill him. Rolfe was

therefore left in the unenviable position of owning eight keeps of which

seven would not open to him.

Waging war against one's own property was never profitable, and

least profitable was to destroy that property. So Rolfe recruited five

hundred soldiers from King Henry's forces. Harwick and Axeford keeps

made terms to surrender without any damage sustained once the bulk of

Rolfe's army appeared outside their gates. The army then moved to Kenil,

and now, after a month and a half, Kenil was taken.

Rolfe sat there brooding and Thorpe took a moment to wonder why

Lady Amelia had not come down. She had probably heard Rolfe's voice