He took his reins from the groom and mounted his weary horse. His father grabbed the bridle close by the bit. "What are you doing? If you want to lead an assault, we'll do it tomorrow."
Galeran didn't try to force the horse forward. "Let us first see if they'll open to their rightful lord."
"By Peter's toe, lad, they'll shoot you on sight! It would suit them fine to kill you."
"If my wife wants me dead, I would be better off so." He met his father's angry eyes, and after a moment Lord William released the horse.
Galeran rode toward his castle bareheaded. He had no pennant, but enough people should be able to recognize him when he was close. There were guards on the walls.
Heywood was built on a natural rise of heath-covered rock, which was kept clear of all larger growth so the watchman at the top of the keep always had a clear view of anyone approaching. As Galeran rode up the long, sloping road at a walk, he heard the man blow his horn. In moments, new people hurried onto the ramparts over the gate.
One was Jehanne, accompanied by a tall man in armor. Presumably Raymond of Lowick, though it was impossible to tell.
Lowick had always been a handsome man, and Galeran could see no reason why that would have changed now that he was close to thirty. He'd always been a skilled warrior too, both in battle and personal combat.
Galeran could tell nothing of how Jehanne looked, or how the two people looked together. In fact, he thought dispassionately, the figures could be another blond woman and another tall knight, and he would be none the wiser yet.
Would an arrow fly? He was wearing mail, so the chance of it killing him was small, but it could take him in the eye. For that matter, if they had the brutal crossbow, a bolt could pierce his mail. He found he didn't care. At this moment, living or dying seemed immaterial.
Unopposed, he rode near to the closed gates. By then there could be no doubt that the woman was his wife.
She had not changed. She was still slender, and her fine blond hair escaped as usual to blow in unruly wisps. She looked pale, but that was to be expected. She met his eyes steadily, but he expected that.
Jehanne would stare down Satan at the gates of hell.
A flare of rage almost shattered his control.
Why?
He wanted to bellow it at her here and now, for he knew there had to be reasons. He knew his wife. He still loved his wife, but his image of her was like the fragments of that shattered rose. Did the wax exist to cobble his life together again?
He looked away to scan the armed men on the walls. They, too, looked pale, but the pallor could have been from the rapidly failing light. "I am Lord Galeran of Heywood," he announced in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, "rightful lord of this castle. At first light tomorrow I will approach with my men and my family's men and expect admittance. Deny me at your peril."
He waited a moment in case there would be a response, but there was none, not even defiance. The only movement was Jehanne's blue scarf blowing in the chilly wind.
Galeran swung away and rode back down to the camp. There he dismounted and turned his weary horse over to John.
"Why tomorrow?" his father demanded. "If they'll let you in then, they'll let you in now!"
"Perhaps I need time to think before meeting my wife."
With that, Galeran walked away, away from the camp, away from everyone.
And, thanks be to God, they let him go.
* * * * * He stopped after a while because there wasn't any point in pushing onward unless he wanted to walk all the way back to Jerusalem - which was strangely appealing. He leaned against a tree, slid wearily down to sit, then rested his head on his knees.
Dear Lord in heaven, what was he supposed to do now?
He knew what he was supposed to do. Kill Lowick, banish Jehanne to a convent, probably after beating her black and blue, put her aside, and find a more virtuous wife.
Or perhaps even give her to the courts to be executed.
He fought down the need to vomit up that cold mutton pie.
What about the children? Gallot and the bastard. Perhaps they were young enough to come to love another woman as their mother,