'What about my ransom? he demanded as Louis joined him. 'Have you suddenly decided to raise the stakes?
'Let us just say that the stakes have changed. Louis rested his hip on the table and leaned into Oliver's space.
Oliver immediately slouched back on the bench and folded his arms to show that he was neither impressed nor intimidated. 'In what way? His expression was sardonic. 'Have I suddenly become so wealthy or important that my value has vastly increased?
Louis smiled with his mouth but not with his eyes which remained as wary as Oliver's. 'Important, yes, he said. 'In fact, so important that you are free to collect your weapons and go.
All attempt at nonchalance fell away. Unfolding his arms, Oliver gazed at Louis with widening eyes. 'I am free to go? he repeated on a rising note of disbelief.
Louis spread his hands. 'As soon as you will. Rise up and walk out of here and no one will stop you.
'Hah, I do not believe that!
'It is the truth, I swear on my soul. Louis crossed himself as he spoke.
Oliver spread his hands too, in a gesture of utter bewilderment. 'But why?
Louis dropped the hand with which he had been signing himself and hesitated. Then he looked at Oliver with avid, bright eyes. 'Catrin, he said.
Colour filled Oliver's face and he felt a warm surge at his core. A vision, not so far from the truth, flashed through his mind, of Catrin riding into Rochester with a determined jut to her chin, letting naught stand in her way. 'She is here? he said eagerly.
Louis nodded. 'Yes, she is here.
Oliver's mind was so filled with the image of Catrin that it took a moment for other considerations to pierce the upsurge of joy. But when they did the cut was deep and sharp — the intimacy with which Louis said 'Catrin', affording no other title as if he knew her well; the woman in the red dress and dark cloak; the heaviness of recent pleasure weighting Louis's eyelids. Like a hammer blow the thought struck
Oliver that Catrin had paid his ransom to this snake with her body.
'If you have touched her, I will kill you! he snarled and shot to his feet, his fists already clenched to strike.
In one nimble move, Louis sprang off the table and put it between them.
'And if you lay a finger on me, you will hang from these battlements until the crows have picked you clean! His glance flashed to the other guards who had started forward, swords hissing from their sheaths. He waved them back to their posts with a terse gesture.
'Sit down, he commanded Oliver. 'This avails us nothing, and there is much you do not know.
With great reluctance and hostility, Oliver subsided on to the bench, but the battle light remained in his eyes and his heartbeat was a heavy drum in his throat.
Louis remained on his feet. He rubbed his palm across his chin and drew out the moment as he gathered his thoughts. At last, when he was ready, he struck without mercy. 'I have every right to "lay a finger" or whatever else I desire upon Catrin, because she is my wife, he said.
'Your what? Oliver almost gagged.
'Wedded, bedded and sanctioned by the church full six years ago. I have known my Catrin since we were children building mud castles together in the bailey at Chepstow.
'Her husband is dead. The words emerged from Oliver's mouth but he was scarcely aware of speaking them. 'My Catrin'? Christ Jesu, it was not to be borne.
'So she assumed until today, but she knows the truth now. He gave a secretive smile as if at some pleasant memory. 'Of course, I do not blame her for abandoning her «widowhood», but she should have been more patient. I would have returned for her.
'You were the one who «abandoned» her. Oliver's voice was clotted with loathing. If there had been a sword at his hip, he would have used it.
'Every man makes mistakes in his life, Louis answered with a shrug, as if the matter was trivial. He examined a fingernail and then clicked it on his thumb. 'I admit that
I am no saint, but she accepts that, just as she accepts the reason I had to flee Chepstow and play dead. Of course, he added, giving Oliver a direct look in which there was complete self-assurance, 'if she wants to go with you, I will not prevent her, but I believe that you will find she prefers to keep her marriage vows.
'You think so? Oliver's voice was thick with revulsion. 'She didn't come here to find you but to ransom me. The past is dead.
Louis shrugged. 'Believe what you will, but you are deluding yourself. I did not have to force her to lie with me just now. She was more than willing, and not because she was playing the martyr to pay your ransom. She still cleaves to me. You do not even have to take my word for it. You can ask her yourself before you leave. Pushing to his feet, Louis sauntered to the door.
For a nauseous moment, Oliver thought that he was going to usher Catrin into the room and parade the situation before all the other hostages. But Louis spoke to the guard, there was a clinking sound and he returned with Oliver's pilgrim swordbelt and weapons.
'Your shield and hauberk are in the guard room and your horse is in the stables, Louis said as he pushed the other items across the trestle. 'Take them and be far from here before dusk closes the gates.
Oliver fingered his swordbelt and looked at the familiar pewter badges. It seemed to be the only recognisable item in a world gone awry. Very slowly, because all the power seemed to have drained from his body, he stood up and buckled on the belt. He had a powerful desire to draw his sword and slice off de Grosmont's handsome, smug head, but it remained sheathed. He could see that Louis was prepared and, perhaps even hoping, for just such a move so that he could lay claim to a justified kill of his own.
'Two more things, Louis said, his voice pleasant, his expression marred by a twist of smug malice. 'There is a manservant of yours waiting in the bailey, a hulking oaf. Take him with you when you leave. My wife has no further need of his services. You will find her in the chapel. I do not expect your farewells to take longer than a few minutes. He opened his hand. 'You are free to go.
It was a lie, Oliver thought, staring into the obsidian-dark eyes with their challenge and mockery. Louis de Grosmont had just taken all hope of freedom from him and cast him into a deep, dark well of despair.
'God help you if we ever meet again on the field of battle, he said through clenched teeth.
Louis smiled. 'Oh, he will, he said smugly. 'God always helps those who help themselves.
Catrin had tried prayer, but either she was not listening or the saints were not answering, for she had gained little comfort from the hour spent on her knees. Staring at the candles had made her vision blur, and now she viewed everything through a fuzzy, golden haze.
She was being torn in two. Lewis, Louis as he called himself now, or Oliver. She loved them both; Louis with the heartsick burning of her youth, Oliver with the quieter steadiness of maturity.
Whatever his excuses, Louis had once betrayed her badly, but when he said he had changed his expression had been so sincere and chagrined that she doubted her own judgement. His lovemaking still sent her soaring and he was, after all, her husband. She could not be wed to Oliver while her commitment to another man still stood; could not love him with a whole heart knowing that Louis was alive. Oliver deserved better than that. Besides, if he did regain his lands, any children that she bore to him would not be legitimate issue and their inheritance would be open to question.
How she was going to face him and say all this, she did not know. The prospect was so harrowing that she was tempted to hide until he was gone, but he deserved better than that too.
'Mary mother, Holy mother, help me to say the right words, she entreated the statue of the Virgin before the altar. 'Help me to bear this.