Free Stuart, Elizabeth by Bride of the Lion

paced across the floor. God give her the grace to
endure confinement with these two. As much as she did love her sister, a whole
afternoon of reassuring Adelise, of pretending to be calm for her sake, was
beginning to tell on her nerves.
    She
thought now with a kind of guilty longing of the excitement Robert de Langley
had spawned wherever they had gone this morning, of the frenetic activity that
must now be taking place. Slaughtering season was one of the busiest times on
any estate, and one of the most crucial to the welfare of all.
    It
would be even more crucial to de Langley and his men, for while grains, peas,
and beans would form the staple of everyone's diet, the addition of meat
occasionally kept the strength and spirits up. For a castle under long siege a
goodly quantity of food of any kind, but meat especially, could be a deciding
factor in the eventual victory or defeat.
    She
thought of the others as well, of all the men, women, and children Belavoir
supported. No doubt many would die, either by the sword or the slow stalk of
hunger before this battle of wills between her father and Robert de Langley
came to an end.
    "Jocelyn!
Jocelyn, what should we do?"
    Jocelyn
glanced at Adelise, became aware of a soft knocking on the outer door.
"Why, open it of course! Do you want them to hack it to pieces again?"
    When
Adelise still did nothing, Jocelyn crossed the floor and swung the door open. A
man was standing there. One she'd not seen before.
    "My
lady," he said with a bow. "I am Sir Geoffrey Talmont. Lord Robert
bade me beg your attendance below. He has some questions to put to you."
    The
man was tall and darkly handsome, his voice cultured and deferential. His eyes
were open and honest with an easy humor hinted by the crinkle of laugh lines at
the corners.
    She
thought of Robert de Langley, of his arrogant stance, his bold lion's eyes.
"I fear you lie, sir," she murmured. "I doubt your lord has ever
begged for anything in his life. Most certainly not my company."
    The
man's face lit with amusement. "Let us say, then, that he wishes to speak
with you."
    Jocelyn
nodded. "That I will believe."
    She
started through the door, but the man stopped her. "You'll need your
cloak, lady. We'll be going outdoors, and the wind this evening is chill."
    "Very
well." Jocelyn moved across the floor and retrieved her cloak. When she
turned back the man had entered the room. He was staring at Adelise with the
stunned expression Jocelyn had learned to expect from any man beholding her
sister for the first time.
    "I'm
ready, Sir Geoffrey."
    He
glanced up, recovering himself more quickly than most. "Certainly, my
lady." He glanced once more at Adelise who was regarding him as if he were
some netherworld devil, then turned politely back to Jocelyn. "While I'm here,
is there anything I might fetch for you or your sister? Do you need more fuel
for the fire, extra blankets, anything more to eat or drink? Let me know and
I'll see to it personally."
    Jocelyn
smiled. Adelise's fragile blond beauty might stir lust in most men, but it
also, paradoxically, awoke a desire to protect her. "Thank you, sir, but
no," she said. "I believe we are perfectly comfortable at
present."
    They
moved through the narrow, chilly corridors of the castle. Torches burned,
turning the pale stone a soft gold, throwing wavering shadows across the walls.
To Jocelyn's surprise, save for a guard or two, Belavoir seemed deserted.
    They
hurried down a steep back stair near the barracks. Sir Geoffrey put his hand to
the iron ring and dragged the postern door open. The noise and stench hit
Jocelyn like a blow.
    She
gazed out over the bailey. In the gathering darkness, people were swarming
around great bonfires, shouting and hurrying back and forth from the kitchens,
dragging pots and utensils of all kinds. Over it all the sound of pigs grunting
and squealing and the acrid smell of scorching flesh and singed hair carried to
her on the chill evening air.
    "I
see they found the