Stephen’s blue eyes were as cold as his voice. With his splendid physique and leonine head, he looked every inch a king, as he regarded the kneeling young man with palpable displeasure.
“Your Grace,” Hugh said soberly, “I have come here on behalf of myself and the Lady Cristen Haslin of Somerford. We wish to wed, Your Grace, but my uncle is Lady Cristen’s overlord and he will not give his consent. As you well know, he wishes me to marry Elizabeth de Beauté instead.”
A stifled moan came from somewhere to Stephen’s left. Sir Nigel, the king thought. He looked at Hugh measuringly. So this was the man Lady Cristen had run off with.
The king’s eyes narrowed as he sought ways he might turn this new development to his advantage. To gain time, he asked, “Is Lady Cristen the daughter of Sir Nigel Haslin of Somerford?”
“Aye, Your Grace,” came the firm reply.
Stephen stared thoughtfully into the gray eyes that watched him so steadily. Hugh did not look at all foolish, or subservient, kneeling before him in front of a tableful of men. Rather, he looked perfectly composed and in command.
“Your Grace, this is infamous!” Guy burst forth furiously. “The boy has some foolish notion that he is in love with Lady Cristen. As if that had anything to do with marriage!”
“Your Grace,” the boy said softly. “You are beleaguered and hampered by barons whom you cannot trust. Two sit here in this room with you.”
Outraged denials came from both Guy and William of Roumare. Hugh ignored them.
“I am not such a one,” he said. “I was brought up by Ralf Corbaille to believe that a feudal oath is an oath made to God. If I take an oath to you, Your Grace, I will uphold it until I die.”
Stephen looked into those compelling gray eyes and saw, with some astonishment, that Hugh was telling him the truth.
“And what if I refuse to allow you to wed Lady Cristen?” the king asked. “What will you do then?”
Hugh smiled. “I did not come here to threaten you, Your Grace.”
The kneeling, slim, black-haired young man dominated the room. Everyone present understood perfectly that his pleasant words denying a threat were in fact a threat in themselves.
He must love Lady Cristen very much to have taken this bold step, Stephen thought. The king, an emotional man who dearly loved his own wife, was moved.
He gestured for Hugh to stand. When he had gotten to his feet, the king asked him, “Is Lady Cristen in the castle?”
“I believe she is, Your Grace.”
“Go and get her.”
The boy didn’t move, but gave Stephen a long, wary look.
The king met his eyes steadily. “Go,” he said again.
Hugh went.
As soon as he was out of the room, Guy broke out in passionate fury.
“You cannot mean to give in to him, Your Grace! I have told Hugh that if he marries Lady Cristen, I will disown him as my heir.”
“If you do that,” the justiciar said practically, “you will drive him right into Gloucester’s arms.”
“Then arrest him,” Guy said grimly. “He can’t go over to Gloucester if he is in chains.”
Stephen looked at the pale, worried-looking man who sat beside Guy. “Sir Nigel,” he said. “How say you?”
“Your Grace,” Nigel Haslin replied, “If Hugh de Leon pledges you his faith, he will keep his word. And Hugh de Leon would be an enormous asset to Your Grace’s cause. He is a brilliant young man whose sword and counsel you could rely upon utterly. He is a man of honor, Your Grace. Do not let him get away.”
Guy turned to Nigel in fury. “You have plotted this! For all this time, this is what you have been maneuvering for-to marry your daughter to the next earl!”
“That is not true, my lord,” Nigel said.
“Do you mean that you knew nothing of this?” the king asked.
“I knew what Hugh wanted,” Nigel replied. “But I told him that he could not marry my daughter without the consent of her overlord.”
“Well, she does not have my consent!” Guy shouted.
“Contain yourself, Lord Guy,” the king said. He was beginning to enjoy himself. “It seems to me that this is a matter of true love.”
“Love has nothing to do with marriage, Your Grace,” Guy returned in a voice that was only slightly less than full volume.
“I find it rather touching,” said William of Roumare.
Guy glared at his rival with loathing. The Earl of Cambridge, a broad, powerfully built man with auburn hair and brown eyes, looked back imperturbably. He undoubtedly would be delighted to see Hugh marry one of his own vassals and not the heiress to a quarter of Lincolnshire.
Stephen understood this very well. He also understood that Hugh’s offer of allegiance might be a boon. Nigel Haslin had said that the boy was brilliant. Something about Hugh made the king think that Nigel might very well be right. And Stephen could hold the threat of recognizing Hugh as earl over Guy as a weapon to keep Guy in line.
I can’t lose, Stephen thought with satisfaction. If Guy betrays me, I will recognize Hugh. At the very least, Wiltshire’s forces will be divided against themselves. Internal dissension will render them useless.
The king gestured for more wine.
I will also keep Elizabeth de Beauté and all her lands in my hands, a gift to smooth my way with some other wavering baron, he thought as he took a pleasurable drink of the newly poured wine.
As Stephen was putting down his cup, Hugh came in the door with a girl at his side. The two young people walked solemnly forward and went down on their knees before Stephen.
“Your Grace,” Hugh said. “May I present the Lady Cristen Haslin.”
Stephen looked with approval into the delicately lovely face of the young woman who was going to save him so much trouble. Large, luminous brown eyes looked gravely back, and Stephen suddenly remembered that he had met Lady Cristen before.
“Rise, my lady,” he said genially, and gestured for Hugh to do the same. “We remember well your generous hospitality to us during the siege of Malmesbury.”
She smiled. “I am honored, Your Grace.”
“So,” he said. “Lord Hugh de Leon has informed us of his desire to wed with you. Are you in agreement with his wish?”
“Aye, Your Grace,” she said.
As Hugh and Cristen stood and looked at him, Stephen was struck by the intense feeling he had of their oneness. They were not looking at each other, nor were they touching, but the feeling they gave off was very powerful. Stephen felt it, and he imagined everyone in the room must feel it, too.
It was touching, and it was convenient.
“I will welcome your pledge of loyalty, Lord Hugh,” the king said. “And I will be happy to dance at your wedding.”
Stephen came around the table and accepted Hugh’s oath right there, in the presence of a livid Lord Guy. Then he invited Hugh to attend him in his bedchamber, and the two went off together alone.
As soon as the king had left the room, Guy stalked out as well, walking by Cristen as if she did not exist. Nigel hurried to the side of his daughter and she gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Come with me back to Hugh’s house, Father. He will return there once he has finished with the king.”
Bernard joined them, and she invited him to accompany them.
They were met at home by the children, Thomas, Mabel, and Alan. Cristen told them her good news and then they all settled down to wait for Hugh.
He did not come for another hour.
“Can he be talking to the king all this time?” Thomas was wondering aloud for the fourth time when the front door opened and Hugh came in.
His eyes went immediately to Cristen and he grinned.
She smiled back.
“So it seems I am to have you for a son-in-law after all,” Nigel said, coming forward to embrace Hugh.
Hugh laughed. “You found me, sir. Now you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
Bernard was next, enveloping Hugh in a bear hug and saying over and over, “Masterly, lad. You were masterly.”