Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“This is good. You have a brewer among your tenants?”

“Aye, my steward Hector. It is but one of his talents. But in truth he is the steward here, not mine at all. He serves my nephew Sir Thomas Randolph, whose house this is. I live here and care for the place on my nephew’s sufferance.”

He nodded, amiably. For a fraction of a moment she thought he was going to smile again, but the tic at the corner of his mouth faded before it could grow, although his eyes remained more tolerant than she had ever seen them in regard to her.

“Tell me then, if you will, what matters have we to discuss?”

She turned sideways in her chair to look at him, taking in his entire appearance before she responded. “Several,” she said, her voice soft. “And not the least of them your own condition. You look gaunt, Will Sinclair—gaunt and haggard and careworn. When first we met today you told me the boy was injured through your fault, and it is clear, from the look of you, that you believe it to be true. Sh!”

She stood up quickly, setting her ale cup on the seat of her chair, then almost bending to one side as she listened to the silence behind the woven screens. Will had heard nothing, but he had not been listening. She flicked a warning finger at him before gliding out of sight behind the nearest screen. Moments later she emerged again, closing the flap of the screen carefully.

“He sleeps soundly. I thought I heard him move, but if he did, it was unconsciously.” She collected her cup and sat back down, cradling it between her hands. “Tell me then, what did you do to endanger the lad and almost get him killed?”

He inhaled sharply, and without preamble told her the whole tale. When he fell silent again, clearly having no more to add, she cocked her head in an unconscious gesture of puzzlement.

“Why should you have thought to search the woods there? You said they were sparse.”

“And they were, but not too sparse. And they were hostile territory. They concealed men, enemies.”

“But not soldiers.”

“No, they were farmers. But they wished us ill.”

“And why would they wish to attack an unarmed boy?”

“They did not. It was me they wanted. A single knight, lightly armed. Well worth killing and robbing.”

“And had you gone looking, do you think you would have found them?”

He jerked his head in a negative. “Perhaps not. They were afoot, and would have hidden when they saw me coming.”

“So then, not having seen them, might they have killed you from concealment?”

“They might.”

“And had they done so, they would have killed the boy, too, no? Especially since he was unarmed.”

“Probably.”

“Then why do you berate yourself? You are both here, alive, because you did not search those woods. And Henry lives because you were able to rescue him, after he rescued you. Therefore, it seems to me, as a mere woman, that each of you has great cause to be grateful to the other for the way this thing transpired, and no reason at all to be sitting around moping and feeling guilty. The boy is strong, and you are in good health, save for your appearance, which cries out for sleep.” She paused, waiting, and then added, “Have I convinced you yet that this guilt you feel is foolish?”

Sweet Jesus, the man is smiling. He is smiling! The first real smile I have ever seen in him … And what a wondrous change it brings about in him, even with his paleness and those bitter worry lines etched into his face. Why, oh why, dear God, do you not permit this man to smile more often? He could banish storms—expel the clouds and bring the sun back into view.

He shook his head gently. “Perhaps you have,” he said. “We shall see … Now, what else must we discuss?”

“Nothing too grave. I have some questions I would like to ask. Would that vex you?”

His smile grew even wider. “Today, no. I doubt you could ask me anything today that might vex me. The willingness with which you undertook the care of my nephew without question has seen to that. Ask away.”

Jessie pursed her lips, another unconscious gesture, and nibbled on the inside of the lower one, thinking carefully before beginning. “Very well then … I have been told—it matters not by whom and I will not divulge his name—that you released your brethren from their vow of chastity.” She saw his eyebrow quirk and prepared herself for a brusque dismissal of her unformed question, but he merely glanced sidelong at her and nodded.

“And so I did. Some of my brethren. Many of them, mainly the older men, had no wish to be released, and so they remain as they were. Others availed themselves of the dispensation.”

She looked at him in surprise and spread her hands palms upward. “Why? Why would you do such a thing, you, of all men the most devout and duty bound? Why did you do it, after a lifetime of single-minded obedience to duty and to God?”

“Perhaps because my God is not the same as yours.” The words were pitched so low and were so indistinct that she was sure she had misheard them, for they made no sense to her. But she had sufficient wit to say nothing, inexplicably aware that William Sinclair might be about to say more, and of more substance, than she had ever heard him say before without hostility. Instead of continuing, however, he sat staring at her, his eyes strangely distant, as though he were unaware of her, gazing at other things.

Oh, Will Sinclair, I have no idea what is in your mind, but I’ll give thanks to God tonight for the absence of scowls on your face and for the smiles you’ve shown me and for the brightness of those eyes. For only He can know whence that brightness comes, or where and why those scowls lie banished. I would not care were you to say no other word from now until bedtime, if your face remained as open and free of arrogance and disapproval as it is now.

He continued to stare at her, and through her, for so long that she began to suspect he might, in fact, not say another word, but just as she began to draw breath to speak, he broke suddenly into the French tongue of Anjou, his eyes now focused upon hers.

“You know, when first we met I distrusted you.” He jerked one hand in the air to cut her off before she could react. “No, pardon me. That is untrue. I never did distrust you. That is the wrong word … and an evasion. I believe … I believe I feared you. That is the truth, and now that it is spoken, I recognize the verity of it. Yes, I feared you. Feared you for what you were and what you represented in my eyes … the undoing of my sacred vows … And even in that I was deluding myself, though I may not tell you how or why. I know both how and why, but it is something I cannot explain without jeopardizing matters sacrosanct to me. Be that as it may, you frightened me because I found you … attractive … And that was contrary, and threatening, to all the things to which I had dedicated my life.”

There’s that smile again, but stifled quickly, as though you thought to laugh at yourself. Ah, Will Sinclair, I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You thought me attractive! Do you still think that way of me?

“And do you not fear me now, Sir William?”

There was sly humor in her tone, but Will ignored it and answered forthrightly. “No, Jessie, I do not, not even slightly. Nor did I ever, if the truth be told. It was myself I feared … myself and my own weaknesses that I thought might lead me into sin.”

“Sin over me?”

Jessie was scarcely conscious of what she was saying now, as her shock at his confession was amplified by the delighted surprise of hearing him call her by her given name for the first time. But her pleasure increased tenfold when he looked at her, cocking an eyebrow.