Emerald Knight

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I’m sorry to have wakened you,” she breathed. She turned her eyes back to him. Biting her lip, she suddenly felt foolish for being there.

  William maintained his distance. When she didn’t elaborate as to why she disrupted him, he said, “I must say, I am a bit curious as to why you are here.”

  Ginevra’s cheeks pinkened. William unblocked his throat with a soft noise of surprise.

  “Gin, are you here to--?” William couldn’t finish. He gave a meaningful look to the bed.

  Ginevra’s eyes rounded. “Oh, nay. I didn’t mean to imply I wished to--well. I don’t know how to say this, so I will just say it. I saw Wolfe again tonight.”

  “What?” William asked carefully. He couldn’t help the deep frown that marred his brow as he looked at her. Stepping to her, he laid a hand on her shoulder. Lightly, with the fingers of his free hand, he cupped her jaw to look into the depths of her earnest gaze. He could see that she meant what she said. “I think you should talk to someone about this. Mayhap a physician could help.”

  “They will think me a witch,” Ginevra protested. “Please, Will. I am not crazy. I know I’m not. I saw him. I talked to him. I touched him.”

  “Touched?” William inquired. His eyes narrowed a bit in disdain. If his bride touched someone real, then it wasn’t Wolfe. He didn’t like the sound of her unfaithfulness, no matter how misled her reasons were.

  “Well, mayhap I am crazy. I don’t know. But I talked to him and he was real to me--as sure as you are standing here.”

  William limped, as he walked over to the bed. Sitting down, he rubbed his leg.

  “Does your wound pain you?” She noticed that on occasion his steps would slow to accommodate his leg.

  “Some,” he answered in distraction. “Where did you see Wolfe?”

  “On the high tower,” Ginevra answered.

  “Is he there now?” William asked, not believing he was actually humoring her.

  “Nay.”

  “Did he say he would meet you again?” William persisted.

  “Nay, he was mad at me. I told him he had a son and he stormed off.” Ginevra moved to quietly stand before William.

  “All right, Gin,” William assented. He sighed. He knew that she carried a lot of guilt for not telling Wolfe of his son. Just as he knew the mind sometimes liked to trick those who were weakened with grief. His shoulders slumped some. In exasperation, he said, “I can’t compete with my brother’s ghost. If this is your way of telling me to leave, I’ll go. Just stop saying Wolfe is alive. I can’t bear it. Damn it! I miss him too. We all do.”

  “I don’t want you to leave, Will. I want you to come with me. I want you to tell me I’m not crazy. Because if I am, well I just have to know! I can’t live like this!” Her voice rose with desperation. “Just now passing Thomas’ locked chamber I could have sworn I heard him within. And I don’t want to be crazy.” Ginevra burst into tears. Her shoulders shook in her unhappiness. “Please, Will. Help me. Come with me. Come and see if you see him too.”

  “All right, Gin, all right.” William stood and pulled his wife to his naked chest. Still he could feel only friendship for her. And being her friend, his heart broke to see her so trampled. He could feel her spirit being crushed and could do nothing to help her. “I’ll go with you to the tower.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The closer William neared to the top of the tower, the uneasier he became. Ginevra said nothing as she trailed slowly behind him. William hadn’t bothered to don a shirt, too tired and sad to care about such things. He passed the three bedchambers without words as he trailed to the roof. Stepping out into the cool night, he looked around. Then, glancing at Ginevra, he waited for her to join him.

  A little hesitantly, he asked, “Do you see him now?”

  Ginevra shot him a rueful glance. Shaking her head, she said, “Nay, he isn’t here.”

  William nodded in relief. He knew many people whispered about spirits lingering when they had unfinished business on earth. If anyone’s business was unfinished it was Wolfe’s and Ginevra’s.

  “Good,” he breathed, “for neither do I.”

  Ginevra nodded. She knew he still didn’t believe her. He eyed her wearily.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  Weakly, she said, “Thomas’ chamber.”

  “All right, Gin.” William walked past her. His movements were slowed as if he aged with each step he took. Methodically, he climbed down the stairwell, stopping at Thomas’ old chamber. His fingers shook slightly and he paused.

  “William?” Ginevra whispered, trying to see his face.

  William let loose a long breath. He ignored the pain in his gut the locked door caused him. Whispering back at her, he said, “Yea.”

  “William, I don’t feel a lock. I told you, it’s missing.”

  At that, William stiffened in surprise. Lifting his hand to the door, his fingers met with hers. True to her word, there was no lock. His head snapped around to hers. He felt her fingers shaking under his in fear. Gulping, he lowered his hand to the latch. His stomach tightened with nerves as he pulled the latch and swung the door slowly open.

  For an unused door, the oak didn’t creak. Ginevra’s hand dropped from the wood. Inside a small fire burned in the fireplace, lighting the musty chamber. William could hear Ginevra’s breathing behind him. Looking inside, he saw that the bed was empty. The gray fur was smooth and untouched, but didn’t carry the same caking of dust the rest of the furniture held.

  Hesitantly, William stepped within. Ginevra trembled and pressed herself into his back. His boot-step echoed a bit in the chamber as it crunched on broken shards of wood. Ginevra ducked her head around his side. Then, just as he was about to push her back, he froze in horror.

  “Thomas?” William whispered, moving his fingers to sign the cross over his chest.

  In the entryway, leading to the back rooms stood a figure in the archway. The longer dark hair moved over naked masculine shoulders as the man stepped forward. And as the light fell over the features of the man’s face, William stumbled back in awe. The figured lifted his head, his eyes darting to the chamber door at the sound. William, seeing brown eyes instead of green, shook his head.

  “Wolfe,” he stated.

  “You look as if you have seen a ghost, little brother.” Wolfe stated blandly. He wore a tight fitting pair of braccas with a loose undertunic of lightweight linen. His face had recently been clean-shaven and washed. It was still wet in places.

  William wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strike his brother or hug him. Stepping forward, he met Wolfe half way across the room. Silently, he hugged him, pounding his fists against a back of flesh and bone.

  “How can this be?” William asked. He shook his head, grasping his brother’s face in his hands. Lightly, he tapped his forehead against him. “We were sure you were dead.”

  “Nay, I’m very much alive,” Wolfe drawled. Seeing William, he couldn’t help but grin. Brotherly affection shone from his face. Then, unexpectedly, Wolfe frowned.

  The men turned their attention to the pale woman in the frame of the door. She shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. Her lips trembled. Ginevra took a step back and then another. Her mouth opened, as if to speak, but the only sound that came out was that of a wounded animal. She turned and ran down the stairwell.

  “Gin,” Wolfe and William began in unison. They both stopped and looked at each other. Wolfe frowned, as he noticed William’s half naked chest.

  “Wolfe, how is it you are here?” William began, grinning to see him, but at the same time confused. “Why didn’t you tell us you were home?”

  “I had some things to take care of first.” Wolfe strode to the bed and sat on the edge. He crossed his arms over his chest. All emotion drained from his face.

  “I, well I can’t believe it. Gin said she saw you. But, frankly, Robert and I thought she was crazy.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to see me until I put my house in order,” he gr
owled bitterly. “But on the night she wed that bastard Eilric of Eschenfeld, I caught her trying to jump from the high tower. Guess he wasn’t quite the lover she had expected.” Wolfe smirked, thought his eyes were humorless and cold.

  William gagged in trepidation. A pained look fell over his features at his brother’s hateful, nonchalant words.

  “I saved her life, only to punish her for her deceit,” Wolfe continued in a low, unforgiving tone.

  “She tried--”

  “She tried to kill herself by jumping from the tower,” Wolfe asserted when William hesitated.

  William’s knees weakened and he sunk to the floor. Burying his head in his hands, he pulled his hair in sorrow. “If only you would have come straight home. All this could have been avoided. You don’t know what you have done to her, Wolfe. You’ve tormented her to the point of breaking. It’s not fair the way you trick her.”

  “The way I trick her? You think me unjust in my outrage?” Wolfe shot. “She’s the unfaithful wench that couldn’t wait until the corpse was cold to wed with another. At least now I know my worth to her. I should’ve known when I saw them plotting at tournament that Lord Eilric had laid claim to her heart.”

  William flinched at the awful bitterness of his brother’s hate. Carefully, he said, “Wolfe you’re mistaken.”

  Wolfe’s eyes shot up. William didn’t look at him. Suddenly, Wolfe questioned, “Why are you half naked brother--running about the manor at such an ungodly hour with my wife? What business did you have in here with her?”

  William slowly stood as Wolfe spoke. Finally, meeting his eyes, he said, “She is my wife too.”

  Wolfe stiffened, unsure he heard him right. Standing, he stormed menacingly forward. William refused to cower. He lifted his chin proudly in the air.

  With spit flying from his tightened mouth, Wolfe inquired in dark even tones, “What did you say, brother?”

  “Ginevra is also my wife. She didn’t marry Lord Eilric. She married me.” William looked his older brother in the eye. He knew the instant the words sunk it.

  Wolfe’s hands clenched and unclenched at his side. Raising his raw knuckles into William’s face, he shook his fist. His hands still stung where he had beaten the stone wall, but it didn’t stop him from drawing back and punching his brother squarely across the jaw.

  William flew backward and landed on the floor. Skidding to a stop, he hopped to his feet with a warrior yell. Pummeling Wolfe in the stomach with his head, he threw the man backward on the bed. William landed on top of him. Wolfe grunted in pain, but soon managed to again meet his fist to William’s jaw. William’s head snapped back, his eyes rolled. He didn’t fall off the bed. Fists flew as the brother’s sought to beat the other.

  “William! Wolfe! Stop this at once!”

  The men froze at the screech of Helena’s terrified voice. Fists rose frozen in time, they both turned their eyes to their sister. She watched from the doorway in horror. Helena shook her head, reminded of them as children constantly sparring in the hall belowstairs. Slowly, William lowered his hand and stood.

  “Wolfe?” Helena questioned in a mix of consternation and awe.

  “Wolfe?” Robert’s voice shot. The man stepped into the chamber. Seeing his deceased friend raised from the dead, he stepped forward, only to stop when he saw the two bloodied faces staring back at him. A bruise darkened one of William’s eyes and a matching wound spotted near the corner of Wolfe’s mouth.

  “I see now,” Robert stated.

  William ignored him. His chest heaved from the fighting. Glaring at Wolfe, he said, “I only married her out of duty to you. If I didn’t ask for her, she was to be given to Lord Eilric. Any fool could see that she didn’t love him. In fact, she could barely stand to be around him. At least with me her child would be raised in our family--as he should be.”

  “My son,” Wolfe whispered. His anger drained from his limbs. If he had been William, he would have done the same. “Thomas.”

  “Ginevra gave him a name she knew you would be proud of,” Helena asserted, defiantly.

  “Gin,” Wolfe whispered in horror. Stunned, he looked at the three faces staring at him in accusation. He felt the anger fade from him completely. Their disdain couldn’t compare to the remorse he already felt. She hadn’t married Eilric.

  “She nearly died bringing that boy into the world,” Helena continued, glad to finally have her say to her brother. “It was nigh six months before she could even move to sit in bed. And do you know what she did in that time? Every waking moment she had, she talked about you. She told every story of you she could think of to your son.”

  “Where is he?” Wolfe started. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. “Where is my son?”

  “Here.”

  The earl stepped up the stairwell. In his arms was a small child. Seeing his son, the earl paled in a mix of awe and relief but remained quiet. Wolfe froze. Staring up at him through tired round eyes was his son. The boy yawned sleepily but kept his eyes open as he looked at the curious stranger. Wolfe stepped forward. His hand reached forward in hesitation. A small, perfect version of his face stared back at him.

  The child hung back. Helena went forward and scooped him into her arms. Carrying him forward, she smiled lovingly at the toddler.

  “Thomas,” she said, “this is your father.”

  “Woof, woof,” Thomas said with a childish smile. He mimicked a howl, “Ohhhh.”

  Tears came to Wolfe’s eyes. The child reached for him and he grabbed him willingly. Holding the boy to his chest, Wolfe looked at his father. “Where’s Gin?”

  “Gone.”

  Wolfe’s face fell in fear. Thomas laid his head against his shoulder and drooled, as his eyes drooped closed.

  The earl lightened his tone a bit. “Check with the stable lads. They know where--”

  Wolfe’s quick hug stopped the man’s words. He adjusted Thomas in his arms and made a move to run belowstairs.

  “Wolfe, wait!” Helena cried when he reached the doorway. “Leave the baby!”

  “Oh, yea,” he said in distraction. Lovingly, he passed the boy to his sister. With a grin spreading over his features, he kissed the boy’s head and looked around in confusion. Seeing his satchel, he grabbed an overtunic from inside the trunk. Sliding the material over his shoulders, he grabbed his sword out of habit but forgot his boots. Stopping only briefly to again kiss the top of Thomas’ head, he tore down the stairs.

  Helena shook her head. With an amazed sigh, she nodded over Thomas’ head to the men bidding them to follow her from the chamber. Robert went to the fire and made sure it would burn out safely before following. The family gradually made their way belowstairs.

  “So, m’lord,” Robert began. “What does this mean?”

  The Earl glanced at William with a frown. Before he could speak, William held up his hands. “Nay, don’t say it. I gladly bow out.”

  “But we will still need to contact the church,” the earl put forth.

  “Yea, we don’t know what they will decide,” Robert asserted.

  “Contact them,” William smiled. “My marriage was never completed. We couldn’t, ugh, bring ourselves to finish the wedding night. It was like me trying to sleep with Robert.”

  Helena gasped at the impropriety. She rushed forward in dismay, trying to cover baby Thomas’ ears. The men heartily laughed, the noise echoing down the stairwell to the hall. An unspoken bond of relief and happiness spread over them. Wolfe was alive and returned home.

  “I should hope that’s a good thing, Will,” Robert teased with a wry grin and a raise to his manly brows, as he hastened to chase after his wife.

  Ginevra tearfully screamed up at the guard to raise the gate. The startled guard looked at her in surprise, but didn’t hesitate when he saw her determined face. Instantly sending a nearby man to alert the Earl, the knight motioned for the first gate to be pulled. Ginevra glared in frustration, knowing the men stalled by opening one gate at a time. The horse’s feet danced ab
out excitedly, waiting for the moment it could burst through the gates to open field.

  As soon as the second gate cleared enough for her to duck under, she kicked Purch in the side. It was still early in the morn when the steed bolted forth. Ginevra let him run, not caring where the horse took her as long as it was away from Wolfe.

  Wolfe had made a fool of her, tormented her, and made her believe she was talking to a ghost. And for what? Because of his games she found herself with two husbands.

  “Argh!” she screamed again and again into the rising sun. Her pleasure at his living was diminished by the pain of his betrayal. She felt so alone, so scared. She hurt and she was tired of hurting. The years had been so hard without him. And he hadn’t bothered to send word to ease her pain.

  The orange glow of the morning sun barely lit the way. It dared only to glint off the grasses as she flew over them. She didn’t care who heard her cries. She was tired of being quiet, tired of hiding how she felt. She was just tired.

  She urged Purch onward, leaning over the horse to help him race faster. In her nervousness, she let her body flop uncontrollably over the steed’s back. Purch started at the sounds she made, darting edgily to the side. Ginevra stopped screaming and tightened her thighs to better control the movements. Patting the horse’s neck, she urged, “Faster, Purch. To the edge of the earth and over! Don’t stop until I melt from your back!”

  The horse understood, giving his mistress all he had. His feet pounded, the air rushed about them. The tears dried on Ginevra’s face as quickly as they fell.

  Nearing the south forest, Ginevra leaned to the side. Purch responded instantly, turning to race along the tree line. More than half of the orange globe reached above the earth before Ginevra allowed the horse to slow. She let him cool down a bit before stopping.

  Swinging off the horse’s back, she landed neatly on her bare feet. Glad that she at least wore a gown, Ginevra didn’t complain about the fact that it was her sleeping gown. She laughed wryly, knowing what she must look like. She didn’t care. She was away from Whetshire and from Wolfe.