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  "No one knew. Her mother wished it so."

  All was silent but for the clip-clop of the horses' hooves as they crossed the bridge over Shambley's moat; then the king announced grimly, "The hounds are nipping at my heels, lads. My sons wish to bring me down. Ere that happens, I will ensure my daughter's future."

  "So we are heading to collect your daughter and see her and Aric married?"

  Aric glared at his friend. Robert sounded too damn cheerful. But then, he was not the one about to be forced into marriage to the bastard daughter of the king of England. Dear God, just the thought of it made him cringe. Now Aric's whole life would be spent with a spoiled little--

  "Aye," the king interrupted his thoughts. "She has spent her life at Godstow Abbey. We shall go there and see to the marriage; then Shrewsbury and I shall head back to Chinon. You, Shambley, can help Aric get her back to your keep to collect his men. Between the two of you, you should be able to keep her safe." He glanced at his soon-to-be son-in-law. "I would have preferred your men accompany us, Aric, to supply a proper escort afterward, but that would have slowed us down. One thing I do not have is time."

  When Aric nodded silently at that, Henry apparently decided all was settled. The king urged his mount to a gallop. All Aric could think, as he urged his horse to follow, was I am to be married.

  Chapter One

  Lady Adela, abbess of Godstow, frowned down the length of the table at the nuns all seated for the nooning meal. Sister Clarice, Sister Eustice, and Lady Rosamunde were missing. It was not unusual for Sister Clarice to be late. The woman was late for everything. Most likely she had forgotten to fetch the incense for the mass that would take place after the meal, and had gone to retrieve it. Sister Clarice always forgot the incense.

  As for Sister Eustice and Lady Rosamunde, however, the two were always punctual, as a rule. However, they had not been at the morning meal either. Come to that, they had not been at matins, lauds, or prime. At Godstow, it took an emergency to keep a nun from mass, and this would be no exception. Sister Eustice and Lady Rosamunde had been in the stables through the night and well into the morning, working over a mare who was having difficulty birthing her foal.

  But surely they were not still at that! she fretted, then glanced sharply toward Sister Beatrice, who had stumbled over the passage she was reading. Seeing that Beatrice along with all the other women were peering up the table at her, Lady Adela arched an eyebrow questioningly. Sister Margaret, the nun seated on her right, made a motion with her hands. Margaret held one hand up, the fingers fisted but for the baby finger, which hung down like the udder of a cow. With her other hand, she imitated the motion of milking.

  Adela blinked, then realized that she had picked up the pitcher of milk and held on to it, thoughtlessly, as she worried about the missing women.

  Passing the pitcher to Sister Margaret, the abbess gestured to the others to continue with their meal, then rose and moved to the door. She had barely stepped into the hall when she spotted Sister Clarice hurrying down the corridor, a slightly guilty flush on her face. Unable to speak during mealtime, Lady Adela once again arched an eyebrow, demanding an explanation of the woman's tardiness.

  Sighing, Clarice raised her hand and propped two fingers upward until they were inserted in her nostrils, somehow managing an apologetic look as she did so.

  The action was a pantomime to announce that she had forgotten to provide incense for mass--as Adela had suspected. Shaking her head, the abbess gestured for Clarice to continue on to her meal; then she made her way out to the stables.

  The building was silent but for the faint rustle of hay as various animals shifted and glanced curiously toward her as Adela entered. Gathering the hem of her skirt close to avoid trailing it through anything unpleasant, she made her way down the rows of stalls until she reached the last one. There, Sister Eustice and Lady Rosamunde were kneeling by a panting mare. She stood for a moment, peering affectionately at their bent backs as they toiled over the laboring beast; then her mouth dropped with dismay as Sis Eustice shifted and she could see exactly how Lady Rosamunde was toiling.

  "What in God's name are you doing?"

  Rosamunde stiffened at that horrified exclamation from behind, her head whipping briefly around to see the abbess gaping at her with dismay. Then she swiftly whirled back to soothe the mare as the animal whinnied, its muscles shifting around her hands.

  Leaping to her feet, Eustice ushered the horrified Adela a few steps away, babbling explanations as they moved. "The mare was having difficulty. She labored for hours before we realized that the foal was backward. Lady Rosamunde is trying to help."

  "She has her hands inside the mare!" Adela pointed out with horror.

  "She is trying to turn the foal," Eustice explained quickly.

  "But--"

  "Is it not the nooning hour?" Rosamunde whispered with exasperation, removing the hand she had been holding the foal's feet with to pat the mare's rump soothingly. The animal was becoming distressed by the tone of voice the abbess was using.

  "This is an emergency. God will forgive our breaking silence during mealtime if 'tis an emergency," Adela responded promptly.

  "Aye, well, let us hope our mare does," Rosamunde muttered, shifting swiftly out of the way as the horse began kicking its legs in a panicked attempt to regain its feet.

  Sister Eustice moved at once, hurrying to the horse's head and grabbing it to hold the mare still. She murmured soothing coos at the frightened animal.

  Worry almost overcame her, but Adela managed to contain herself as Rosamunde dropped back on to her knees at the rear of the reclining horse. Unlike Sister Eustice, who was garbed in the plain habit of a nun, the girl was decked out in a stable boy's pants and overlarge top, its billowing sleeves rolled back to leave her arms bare. It was the costume the girl usually wore when working in the stables. Rosamunde felt it much more appropriate than a gown, and Adela, despite her better judgment, had done little to sway her from wearing the scandalous garb. She had always been fond of the girl, and there was no one of import around to disapprove anyway. However, she had already explained to the child that she would have to shed the stable-boy clothes for good--along with many other things--once she took the veil and became a nun.

  Adela's thoughts fled, her face twisting into a half grimace, half wince as Rosamunde once again eased her hands into the horse, reaching to grasp its foal and try to ease its way into the world.

  "Thank the good Lord's graces that your father, the king, is not here to see this," Adela murmured, remembering to keep her voice calm. She did not wish to frighten the horse again.

  "To see what?"

  All three women stiffened at that deep baritone. Eustice's eyes widened in horror as she peered past the abbess toward the entrance to the stables. Her expression was enough to tell Adela that she had correctly recognized that voice. The Lord, it seemed, was not feeling particularly gracious today. The king had come to see what his daughter had gotten up to under her care.

  Straightening her shoulders, Adela turned resignedly toward Henry, hardly noticing the men with him as she forced a smile of greeting to her face. "King Henry. Welcome."

  The monarch nodded at the abbess, but his attention was on his daughter. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a bright smile replacing the anxiety on her face.

  "Papa!"

  Henry started to smile, but ceased as he took in the sight of her. "What the devil are you doing in the stables, girl? And all dressed up like a boy, too." He glared at Adela. "Do I not pay you people enough to hire a stable boy? Do you spite me by putting my daughter to work with the animals?"

  "Oh, Papa." Rosamunde laughed, unconcerned by his apparent temper. "You know that it is my choice. We must all work at something--and I prefer the stables to scrubbing the convent floors." The last of her statement was a distracted mutter. She turned back to what she was doing.

  Henry's curiosity drew him forward. "What are you doing?"

  Rosamunde glanced
up, a scowl of anxiety on her face. "This mare has been in labor for more than a day now. She is losing strength. I fear she shall die if we do not help her along, but I cannot get the foal out."

  His brows drawn together, Henry peered at where her arms disappeared into the mare at the elbows. Horror covered his face. "Why, you--What--You--"

  Sighing at his dismayed stammer, Rosamunde calmly explained. "The foal is backward. I am trying to turn it, but I cannot find its head."

  Henry's brows rose at that. "Will it not hurt the mare having you dig about inside her like that?"

  "I do not know," she said pragmatically, reaching farther into the animal. "But both mother and foal shall surely die if something is not done."

  "Aye...well..." Frowning at her back, Henry said, "Leave that for...er..." He peered toward the nun now moving back toward Rosamunde and the horse.

  "Sister Eustice," Lady Adela supplied helpfully.

  "Aye. Sister Eustice. Leave it for the sister to deal with, daughter. I do not have long here and--"

  "Oh, I could not do that, Papa. It would ruin the sleeves of Sister Eustice's gown. This will not take long, I am sure, and then--"

  "I do not give a damn about the sister's sleeves," Henry snapped, starting forward to drag her away bodily if need be, but a pleading glance from his daughter made him halt. She did so look like her mother. Henry had found it impossible to refuse the mother anything. Why should their daughter be different?

  Sighing, he removed his cloak and handed it to Eustice, then shrugged out of his short surcoat and handed that over as well.

  "Who taught you to do this?" he asked gruffly, bending to kneel beside her in the straw.

  "No one," she admitted, flashing him a smile that warmed his heart. It immediately made him let go of his impatience and anger. "It just seemed to be the thing to do when I saw the problem. She will die otherwise."

  Nodding, he shifted as close to her as he could get and reached his hands inside the mare to help. "It is the head you cannot find?"

  Rosamunde nodded. "I have the rear legs, but I cannot--"

  "Aha! I have it. It is caught on something." He paused. "There we go."

  Rosamunde felt the back legs slip from her grip and shift away. She just managed to tug her hands free of the mare as her father turned the animal within its mother until its head was at the right angle.

  "The mare is too weak. You will have to--" even as the words left her mouth, her father tugged on the foal's head and front legs. Seconds later it slid out onto the straw.

  "Oh," Rosamunde breathed, peering at the spindly-legged creature as it wriggled on the straw. "Is it not adorable?"

  "Aye," Henry agreed gruffly; then he cleared his throat, grabbed her arm, and urged her to her feet. "Come. Time is short. 'Sides, 'tis not fitting for a girl of your position to be participating in such things."

  "Oh, Papa." Laughing, Rosamunde turned and threw herself into his arms as she had when she was a child. Henry quickly closed his arms around her and gave up the reprimand as she knew he would.

  "So that is the king's daughter."

  Aric shifted on his feet, his gaze leaving the girl the king was embracing to glance at his friend. "It would seem so."

  "She is lovely."

  "Quite," Aric agreed quietly. "Unless my memory fails me, she appears a copy of the fair Rosamunde."

  "Your memory fails you not. She is an exact likeness of her mother," Shrewsbury agreed. "Except for the hair. That is wholly her father's. Let us hope she did not inherit his quick temper along with it."

  "She has been raised right, my lord Bishop. With all discipline and goodness, and the disobedience worked out of her," the abbess announced staunchly, glaring at Shrewsbury for the very suggestion that the girl might not have been. Then, seeming to regain herself, she forced a smile and in a much more pious tone murmured, "It is most gratifying that His Majesty received my message. We feared, when we heard that he was in Normandy, that he might not receive the news in time to make it back for the ceremony."

  Aric exchanged a glance with Robert, then asked carefully, "What ceremony?"

  "What ceremony?" Adela echoed with amazement. "Why, Lady Rosamunde takes the veil tomorrow."

  There was silence for a moment after that announcement; then Robert murmured, "The king will no doubt be a bit surprised by that."

  "What!" Henry's roar drew their attention.

  "I believe he just learned," Aric muttered. Turning, he found Henry a sight to see. The king's face bore a furious scowl and was so red as to seem almost purple. Even his hair seemed to have picked up some of the fire of his temper and shone more red than gray. He stormed angrily toward them, hands and teeth clenched.

  His daughter was hard on his heels, a startled and somewhat bewildered expression on her face. "I thought you knew, Papa. I thought you had received my message and come to witness--" Her words came to an abrupt halt when her father paused in his stride and turned on her in a fury.

  "It shall not happen! Do you hear me? You are not, I repeat, not going to be a nun."

  "But--"

  "Your mother--God rest her soul--insisted on the same thing ere she died, and I could do naught about it. But I can and will do something now. I am your father, and I will not allow you to throw your life away by becoming a nun."

  Rosamunde looked briefly stunned at those words; then, seeing the stiff expression on the abbess's face at the insult in her father's words, she allowed her temper free rein. "It is not throwing my life away! 'Tis perfectly acceptable to become a bride of God! I--"

  "Will God see you blessed with children?" Henry snarled, interrupting her curt words.

  She looked taken aback briefly at that, then regained herself to snap, "Mayhap. He saw Mary blessed with Jesus."

  "Jesus?" For a moment it looked as though he might explode, or drop dead. His face was purple with rage.

  It was the bishop who intervened, drawing the king's attention with the gentle words, "Your majesty, it is a great honor to become a bride of God. If Rosamunde truly has a calling, it is not well done to force her to--"

  "You!" Henry turned on the man. "I will not hear your religious drivel. Thanks to your dillydallying, we nearly did not arrive here in time. If I hadn't chanced to hear of Aric's broken betrothal and saved a day's riding by choosing him as groom instead of Rosshuen, we would have been too late!" Whirling on the abbess, he roared, "Why was I not informed of these plans?"

  The abbess blinked at him, taken aback. "We...I thought you knew, my liege. It was Rosamunde's mother's wish that she follow in her footsteps and become a nun. She said so on her deathbed. As you had not arranged a betrothal, I thought you agreed."

  "I do not agree," he snapped, then added, "And I have been making arrangements. But what I meant was, why was I not informed of the imminent ceremony?"

  "Well...I do not know, Your Majesty. I did send word. Some time ago, in fact. It should have reached you in plenty of time for you to attend. We hoped you might."

  The king turned on Shrewsbury again at that news, eyes narrowed and accusing, but the bishop flushed helplessly and murmured, "We have been moving around quite a bit, my liege. Le Mans, then Chinon...Mayhap it arrived after we left. I shall, of course, look into it the moment we return."

  Henry glared at him briefly, then turned on his daughter. "You are not taking the veil. You will marry. You are the only child of mine who has not turned against me. I will see grandchildren from you."

  "John has never turned against you."

  "He has joined with my enemies."

  "That is just gossip," she argued with disdain.

  "And if 'tis true?"

  Rosamunde's mouth thinned at the possibility. Truly, no man in history had suffered so from betrayal as her father. Every one of his legitimate sons, her half brothers, had come to turn on him under the influence of their mother, Queen Eleanor. "There are still William and Geoffrey," she whispered, mentioning Henry's other two bastard children.

  Hi
s expression turned solemn at that, and he reached out to clasp her by the shoulders. "But they were not born of my fair Rosamunde. The love of my life. I am a selfish old man, child. I would see the fruit of out love grow and bloom and cast its seeds across the land, not be stifled and die here in this convent. I would see you marry."

  Rosamunde sighed at that, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "And so I shall. Who is to be my groom?"

  Aric stiffened as the king suddenly turned toward him.

  "Burkhart." The king gestured for him to step forward, and Aric unconsciously straightened his shoulders as he did so. "My daughter, Rosamunde. Daughter, your husband, Aric of Burkhart"

  "How do you do, my lord?" she murmured politely, extending her hand. Then, grimacing apologetically as she saw its less than pristine condition--it was stained with residue from her recent work with the foaling--she retracted it and dropped into a quick curtsy instead. "I regret my apparel, but we were not expecting company today."

  Before Aric could even murmur a polite response, the king announced, "You should change."

  Her head whipped around. "Change?"

  "Aye. You will not wish to be wed looking so."

  "The wedding is to take place now?" Dismay was the only word to describe her reaction, and Aric could actually sympathize. It was all a bit dismaying to him as well.

  "As soon as you are changed. I must return to Chinon."

  "But--"

  "See her properly dressed," the king ordered Sister Eustice, then snatched up Adela's arm and urged her out of the building. "I would have a word with the abbess."

  Rosamunde gaped after them, then glanced at Eustice with a start when the sister took her arm and urged her to follow. "I am to be married."

  "Aye." Eustice glanced worriedly at the girl as they stepped out of the stables. The child was unnaturally pale.

  "I thought I was going to be a nun like you."

  "Everything will be fine," Eustice murmured reassuringly, directing her through the convent doors and down the hallway to the left. King Henry and Adela were already out of sight.

  "Aye," Rosamunde agreed, drawing herself up slightly. "All will be well." Then her shoulders slumped, and she whispered bewilderedly, "But I was to be a nun."