by Jaye Peaches
As for the nature of the hunt. We knights are given clues to follow, which invariably leads us to a castle, or a forest or isolated coastline, and there we track down the woman and if a hunter sees her, he can claim her as his. Initially I, a young man, thought it a heartless barbaric game, but when I discovered the daughter of one of the duke’s esteemed courtesans had contacted the Order and proposed herself as a prize, I decided to take part in her hunt. I won and took the woman as my mistress, and since she had an accomplished, worldly mother to educate her, I learnt much from my mistress. We parted company, so that she might choose a husband for love. For you see, the hunt does not bring love, only a hunger for more. A hunted woman is highly desired by men, for though she is no longer a virgin, she has been claimed by a Zalim. No man can match a Zalim; they can only try, and hope she will love him.
I participated in several hunts, winning two more, gaining a reputation as a worthy Zalim. You must be assured that the women are suitably chosen; whether virgin or not, it is their guile and willingness that is coveted. I then discovered informal hunts were taking place involving some of the Order’s less accomplished knights. To my shame, and driven by an unresolved need in me, I joined one hunt in a dark forest that covers the eastern boundaries where the steppes meet the woods, and discovered the woman chosen was inexperienced.
She was hunted naked, her body painted. Sadly, I was caught up in the thrill, hungry for the excitement of winning her. As I gave chase, the guilt consumed me, altering me. A cruel baron, one who tortured his captives, and whom the Order shunned, snatched her just before I had her safely in my hands. She was an innocent, and tricked into participating, and I pursued the baron and rescued her before the man ruined her. The fight resulted in mortal wounds for the baron. The beautiful girl was grateful and willingly offered herself to me, but I refused, realising the beast she had awoken in me was one I could not control if I continued these hunts. Such is its nature; it takes away a man’s reasoning, and brings no joy to him without the thrill of the hunt. I took her to her grateful family, who offered me a place to stay while I considered my future.
I decided to leave the Order and return to my old company of mercenaries. However, the Order is for life, and I was drawn to return by haunting dreams of the hunt, the nightly visits of the Zalim, and anonymous letters insisting I fulfil my destiny. I avoided the Order, a risk I was willing to take. Rising to a high rank in a company of mercenaries helped me learn to control the beast in me, and throughout those long campaigns, I grew wiser, and kept to casual lovers to help my urges.
But the Order’s demands tempted me with one pursuit in a city, and not a wild forest, and I believed it would satisfy my appetites without unleashing the full nature of the Zalim. The quest was a lady of a noble house, whose father was also a member of the Order. I learnt in the days before that a good friend had joined the Order and would be in the hunt. I tried to persuade him not to take part, knowing how the Zalim took hold and would not let go, but my friend was besotted with the young woman, who was equally caught up in the thrill. I chose not to participate directly but watched my friend’s back as the hunt became increasing desperate and violent in the streets and rooftops of the city. When my friend reached the house where the girl was hiding, he was ambushed by four other knights, led by the son of the baron I killed. Their revenge was to throw my friend off the roof. He died in my arms, leaving me guilt-stricken. In anger, I chased after the men, preventing them from reaching the woman and killed them all. And so I came to find her first, and therefore she was my prize. She expected me to claim her there and then, as is the tradition, and I was nearly overcome by the beast, but at the last moment, I saw in her eyes that what I feared. She was in lust, not love, and I was no longer willing to take what was not mine. I abandoned my fighting life, and accepted the reward of this castle that had been awaiting my retirement and the fall from the Order’s grace.
Then I met you, Matilda. My heart has awoken to new feelings, emotions that no Zalim can master. I have hope again.
She clutched the paper in her white-knuckled fist and stormed into the hall where Gervais waited by the great fireplace and oriel window.
“Are you using me as your prey in a secret hunt, and is Geoffrey your unwitting opponent, pleasingly bedridden and unable to partake of the game? Answer me, my lord, for it seems you need to hunt for the sake of your beast more than making love to your betrothed.”
Her anger had grown as she read his tale. At first from disbelief that such men existed, then when she realised that he went into the forest alone to hunt, and probably for some adventure, that he was unable to rid himself of the darkness that lived within his soul. And what of the men who had visited—were they like him, hunters of women? It explained their enigmatic remarks at the dining table.
He jumped to his feet. “No. I have never sought to hunt you and have only bartered with Geoffrey to gain the upper hand in pursuit of a betrothal. The boy is a milksop, can you not see that? What you need is a man.”
“Then answer me—what of the Zalim? Since you refuse to let me sleep with you night after night, is it untameable? For do not lie to me, sir. That creature was what I encountered late in your room, and not the phantom of a nightmare.”
He lowered his head, breathing heavily. “It is a waking nightmare, Matilda, believe me. But I admit I miss the thrill of the chase, the submissive prize, and the base instincts she arouses in me. That is why I am shaped every night into that wildness and must crush it, or else I will be driven to hunt you down.”
And harm me, she thought. But he hadn’t. Even in the tall tower, where he might have unleashed his darker side, he had contained it, permitting him to punish her without breaching her limits. She had suspected very little of his true nature, because she had believed him when he’d showed her the dungeon and why he kept it so. Now, she saw it as a threat, and too dangerous.
“Are you still a hunter of women?” she asked.
His face softened; he had not lost her, yet. “Technically, I’m still a member of the Order, but the last hunt ostracised me, and I’m no longer expected to take part. However, I’m unable to vanquish the Zalim that the Order instilled in their training, and I accept it will be part of me forever in some form or other. I do believe you can help me contain it, by satisfying my urges, and bringing me love, something that the Zalim knows nothing about. All of us hunters have the potential to learn this.” He spoke earnestly, and she believed him.
Slowly, she unravelled her fingers. The crumpled paper relaxed in her palm and she considered all that she had read, and what it meant for them both. She tossed the paper on the fire and seated herself. He copied her. The silence was unearthly, but necessary. He waited patiently.
“Let us talk,” she said finally. She inhaled, searched the deepest part of her mind, and acknowledged what she knew to exist in its recesses. “I am deeply in love with you, Gervais. Of that I am certain. What I felt for Geoffrey is gone. Poor knight, he will be upset. I shall write to him and end any hope he might have for retaining my love. I can only hope he accepts my affections as a friend.”
Gervais visibly showed surprise; his blue-tinted eyes widened and his lower jaw dropped a fraction. “You love me?”
“I am considering staying married.” The thumping of her heart grew louder. “However, I’m horrified by the thought you might resume your... hunting... and that is why the chains and post are there in the dungeon. For do not lie to me, Gervais, the nature of what you unleash can only be satisfied with such a demonic place as that.”
He frowned, contemplating her with a troubled expression woven around the lines under his sleepless eyes. “I was telling you the truth about that room. It is there as a reminder that I have never gone that far. I’m saddened to think that you think otherwise. Yes, Zalims have passions that require a woman to be demure beyond her natural state, but not weak or unwilling. And certainly not taken in abject fear. That is what that dungeon represents. Therefore, I shall strip
it bare and destroy its contents in fire. Will that reassure you?”
She had not expected his solution to be candid. A tiny part of her was disappointed to discover that the nature of his beast was not as despicable as she believed. It was strange to think her wickedness had projected into that dungeon and conjured up a misuse of it. What did it say about her fantasies?
“Yes,” she answered. She pondered what other way they might come to satisfy both their desires without squandering their deepening affection. “Might I make an observation, from my naive position?”
He reached over and took her hand, kissing the fingertips with a brush of his lips. “Please do. I am open to your thoughts.”
“I think, the more you lock me out, the harder it is for you to control that Zalim. In fact, given you spend a good portion of the night hours with me, are you not in control of it already, because you’ve never harmed me beyond what you think is necessary for the purpose of discipline.”
He squeezed her hand. “You think that by letting you stay with me to dawn I will satisfy both man and Zalim? Are you sure, Matilda, that you are willing and able to do both?”
“I’m asking you, sir. Because it seems to me that my words of love might be what helps you. I see the calmness already in your face, the way your kiss my hand with affection. I think you feared otherwise. Burn the dungeon, please. But do not lock yourself out of my life, I beg you.”
He released her hand and stood. For a while, he gazed out of the window where the baking sun was drying the ground into a rock. The midst of summer brought shorter nights, which had to be to her benefit.
Gervais pivoted and resumed his seat. “So be it. But for the first few nights, Lionel will sleep outside, and if needed you can summon him. He is well-versed in the Order and knows why I would ask him to keep watch. He will come if you call and protect you.”
“With good fortune, sir, I hope he won’t be necessary.”
Gervais smiled. “Little merlin, a brave hunter of my love, and I hope that soon I will be able to requite your courage. If you are to reject Geoffrey, then we must pave the way for formalities. In one month, if you haven’t changed your mind, I shall write to your father and announce our marriage.”
She blew out a febrile whistle of air. “Agreed.” Her pulse raced. “And I shan’t change my mind.”
“Good. Tonight shall be the first test.”
“I await with eagerness,” she said truthfully. Her arousal refused to be crushed.
He reached again for her arm, but this time, not for a kiss. He snatched her over to him, upended her over his lap. She squealed, and he held her fast.
“What!”
“This is a reminder, Tilda, that you broke a rule. You opened my door and returned without permission. Regardless of what it has achieved, I cannot let this disobedience pass. It would be remiss of me to do so.”
“My lord, this is most un—”
He smacked her raised bottom with such a heavy hand, the sting of it travelled through her skirts and onto her unsuspecting bottom. She howled and kicked.
“There.” And with the same speed, he turned her about and sat her on his lap.
She panted, aghast. “That’s it?”
“You want more?” His eyes twinkled.
“No, I mean, of course not...” She hung her head. “Naturally, it’s not for me to say, is it.”
“You’re mumbling.”
She cleared her throat. “I thought you were with another woman, that’s my justification for intruding.”
“So not only did you venture into my room unwelcomed, you accuse me of adulterating my bed?” He tapped her chin. “Matilda,” he said sternly.
“It was on my mind. But not now,” she added hastily.
“A falsely accused lord is permitted to seek atonement. It is a serious accusation you make, my girl.” He rested his hand on her knee, ruffling the skirts with his fingertips.
“It is.” She risked much, for now she knew he was infected with a beast, she courted both man and it whenever she stoked his fires. But she was desperate for his attention. She recalled his member, the size and potency, and she didn’t fear it, as she had done last night. Now, with him roused beneath her bottom, she yearned for it.
“I shall not punish you now. For it is my time to hunt... and be assured, I only hunt the creatures of the forest, and it is necessary. You understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” A little hunt was probably a poor substitute for what he craved, but now she understood why he ventured out every day.
“Later, we’ll train Artemis and Diana.”
She smiled. “That pleases me.”
“And after supper, we shall retire. First to the tower, where I shall prove to you the dungeon is empty, then I shall punish your sweet arse as befits your wrongful accusation. And having atoned the man, you will meet the Zalim.”
She tensed. “Where?” In the Spartan tower? The perilous forest? Where would he seek what he claimed?
“In my chamber.” He laughed, and realising how foolish her imagination had become, she joined in heartily. “I suggest you take a nap. You’ll need plenty of energy for later.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
He drew his bow back and held the shaft steady against the string. The arrow aimed straight for the heart of the hare, a large buck. It fell, twitching, then still. Ivan bounded over and retrieved the corpse. Gervais slung it across the rump of his horse along with the rest of his takings. He wiped his brow, feeling the feverish heat, knowing it was nothing to do with sunshine or illness. He craved her each moment of the day, and worse during the night. Hunting barely touched the ache of that longing.
What he sought could not be found in the murky depths of a forest. No creature, however meek and mild, would slake him again. He turned his horse and left the woods, hoping that summer sun might lift his spirits. For though she had offered him the opportunity to prove himself worthy of her, he was gripped by the fear she would reject him at the last moment. One month was all he had to convince her he was in control of the ferocious thing that consumed his waking dreams. Was she as adaptable as she believed?
He thought back to their first encounter in the earl’s castle, how he had berated her for her rudeness and wondered if she was so haughty and selfish that she might not have the ability to change her ways. How quickly she had convinced him when placed in his care. For what he had witnessed with the boy Edgar was her true nature, and what she showed to her servants and dopey followers was an echo of what she might have become if left unschooled. Her mother, who had influenced Matilda’s early life, had been forgotten now that she was mad, and Lord Barre had entrusted the convent to complete the task his wife had begun, then abandoned. So who was at fault for Matilda’s bad habits? It had to be herself, which meant Gervais was justified in disciplining her, and would continue to do so until her new pattern of behaviour was fully established.
Heartened by his reasoning, he returned to the keep. After a brief luncheon, he greeted his betrothed with a smile, reminding her of the falcons waiting to be flown. She eagerly hurried to ready herself, and they collected their birds from the mews. With the falconer guarding the perches, she accepted Gervais’s offer to help her up into the saddle. She clucked her tongue impatiently at the groom fumbling with the stirrups. Then when Sara insisted she took a cloak because she believed a storm brewed, Matilda snatched it out of her maid’s hands.
“If you say so. I can’t see the reason for it,” Matilda huffed.
The humid heat was oppressive, and Sara was correct in her forecast—clouds would gather soon. Gervais privately rolled his eyes in disappointment: there were still moments when Matilda reverted to her lesser self.
“Boy.” She snapped her fingers at the groom. “Bring a flask of wine for me to take, and hurry up, snail-legs, we’re missing the day.”
“Gaston,” Gervais said sharply, “there is no need to bother. I have a flask already on my saddle. It will suffice for both of us.”
Under the shadow of the gatehouse they rode and it was at this point, in the dim light, he drew closer to her light-footed horse.
“Matilda,” he said in a low voice. “Snail-legs?”
She shrugged carelessly. “He daydreams.”
“Gaston is not clever, I agree, but that is a poor excuse to harangue him. Did I not require you to halter your spiteful tongue and learn to use one with the grace of a lady?”
They emerged into bright sunlight and he spotted the angry pout before she wiped it away.
“Very well, since you can’t contain your childishness, we shall turn about and forgo—”
She pulled sharply on the reins. “Oh, no, my lord. Please don’t. I so look forward to flying Diana. I will try harder, I promise. I didn’t mean to be... mean,” she ended limply.
He observed her face carefully. The alarm was genuine, the disappointment too. And he felt sure she was also aware that he had offered her this threat as an alternative to another.
“You will be good?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes, my lord. Very good. I shall keep my tongue in check.”
They continued to the meadow in better harmony. Gervais’s spirits lifted, for he had applied his authority without resorting to harsher methods, and the warning had worked, it seemed, at least for the moderation of her unladylike behaviour. However, the breaking of rules, the ones he had strictly applied, was a different matter. The forthcoming appointment in the tower remained unbroken. Weighted down once again with pangs of desire, he kept his hands to himself. She must not know how constant she was in his thoughts and how close the beast lurked below the surface of his serene face.
