The Pawn

by Aston, Alexa

  With that, Adelard released her and strode from the room.

  Sybil collapsed into the chair, breathing hard. She wasn’t legally wed. Her two children were bastards. Bastards! And all along, the true heir had scampered about the estate, blissfully unaware Blackwell would someday belong to him. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. With Adelard sending the boy away, he might never know.

  She vowed in that moment that Quill Cardon must never learn of his origins.

  Landon still hadn’t returned, which worried her. Sybil rose and left the bedchamber. If the king’s men were to arrive at any moment, she did not want to be separated from her boy in the confusion. Adelard was right in that he knew she would do whatever it took to protect her children and their position within the nobility.

  Cursing her false husband under her breath, Sybil rushed down the silent corridor. What had he done that would bring Edward’s men to Blackwell to bear him away? Her heart beat frantically as she reached the top of the staircase. Looking down, she saw Adelard embracing Landon.

  “Mother?”

  Sybil glanced down and saw Katelyn had awakened and followed her. She swept the girl into her arms as the door to the keep crashed open. Dozens of soldiers poured in. Katelyn’s tiny hands gripped Sybil’s cotehardie as shouted orders came from below. She saw two knights latch on to Adelard and sweep him from Landon as a man began reading the charges against her husband.

  Treason . . .

  Quickly, Sybil retreated to the solar, a frightened Katelyn clinging desperately to her. Treason changed everything. The king would take all Blackwell lands and the earldom that accompanied it. Her boy—and his inheritance—were already lost to her.

  She entered the solar and sat in a chair next to the fire, willing herself not to weep. Not to show any signs of weakness. Sybil looked at the trembling girl in her arms, knowing she would become a pawn to the crown. Waiting, Sybil heard the thundering of boots coming down the hall. The door was thrown open. Her gut lurched.

  Life, as Sybil de Blays had known it, was over.

  Chapter One

  Convent of the Charitable Sisters, Colchester, Essex—1338

  Katelyn de Blays sat alone as she broke her fast, the only time she would be allowed to eat today. Anger sizzled through her as she tore a piece from the small loaf of bread a postulate placed before her. She chewed without tasting it, finishing the bread and then downing the cup of weak ale. She closed her eyes, knowing she needed to harness the fury. She sensed others watching her and opened her eyes quickly, swiveling to her left. Two oblates stared at her, their eyes wide. As her gaze burned into them, they quickly dropped their eyes to the meal in front of them.

  Immediately, her anger cooled. These young girls had done nothing to harm her. If anything, something damaging had been done to them. They were the latest oblates to have arrived at the Convent of the Charitable Sisters, daughters from noble families who gave their children to be raised as nuns. Katelyn never understood the multitude of reasons why any parents would do such a thing.

  Of course, her own parents had no say in what had happened to their only daughter. As the child of a traitor, the king had banished Katelyn from the world she knew and sent her to one of silence and never-ending prayers. She vaguely remembered attending mass every morning at Blackstone Castle’s chapel, sitting next to her brother, but had some recollections of exploring the family’s estate. She’d only been five years of age when the king’s men came for her father so much of those childhood memories proved to be hazy. Even her father’s image had dimmed with time and she could no longer remember his features. Instead, he was a tall, lean man with a face hidden in shadows. She doubted she would ever recall exactly what he looked like.

  But she would never forget how much she loved him.

  Her relationship with her mother had been entirely different. Where her father was playful, letting Katelyn ride atop his shoulders and chasing her in games of fun, her mother had been stern. Katelyn knew she must always sit up straight and pay very close attention to whatever Lady Sybil said. Every word spoken to Landon or Katelyn was meant to instruct. Katelyn knew it was important to retain every lesson given.

  The only time her mother let down her guard was when they were in private. She would tell grand tales of adventure at bedtime each night and Katelyn looked forward to that time. It was a side of her mother no one ever saw but it was the best part of each day.

  Now, that very mother was making her life one of misery.

  Katelyn rose and headed for the large hallway that led outside. Each day after Prime, the early morning mass attended by everyone inside the convent, she would break her fast and then care for the chickens, feeding them and gathering the eggs that had been laid before milking the goats. It was the only time she spent outdoors so she treasured it. Much of her early years had been lived outside, playing with Landon and Quill or riding horses with her father. Being locked away inside the nunnery for most of the hours in a day had been unbearable.

  That’s why she’d run away so often.

  She sensed someone following her as she reached the door and whirled around. As she suspected, Sister Martha shadowed her movements.

  “If you wish to keep up with me, Sister Martha, you might want to stay closer. I’m sure the abbess has told you after yesterday’s incident not to let me from your sight.”

  The nun hurried toward her, a deep frown on her face. “Mother Acelina is very angry with you, Katelyn.”

  “Because I made it farther than I ever have before?” she snapped.

  “Mother wishes to see you once you’ve finished with the animals,” the nun told her, a sly smile crossing her face. “I’m sure you’re to be reprimanded for your behavior yesterday. Even beaten again.” Now her smile turned broad. “And I hope I am the one chosen to carry out your punishment.”

  Katelyn gritted her teeth, keeping the sharp retort from escaping her lips. Turning, she left the confines of the convent and stepped into the warm sunshine of the summer day.

  On a regular basis for the last several years, Katelyn had sneaked away from the convent. She had no intention of taking a nun’s vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The abbess had informed Katelyn she had no plans to force her to become a good sister at the convent, but Katelyn couldn’t trust the woman who’d given birth to her.

  Lady Sybil de Blays had been taken with her daughter to the same convent all those years ago but mother and child had been separated for a long period of time, one Katelyn could not assess since she’d been so young. What she knew now as postulates were the ones who had cared for her as she’d cried for her family and screamed for hours, wanting to go home to Blackwell. When Katelyn next saw her mother, Lady Sybil wore the garb of a nun, her habit tied around the waist with a cloth belt and her head covered with a wimple and veil attached to a scapula. A heavy cross on a chain hung around her neck. Her mother told her daughter that she had completed her postulancy and novitiate and had taken simple vows. She would now be known as Sister Acelina and would take her solemn vows in four more years.

  It was as if a stranger stood before her and Katelyn had never been more frightened seeing what her mother had become.

  In the years that had since passed, Sister Acelina had become an integral part of the nuns’ community, being elected in a secret vote to serve as their abbess, a position she would hold the remainder of her life. Katelyn grew to understand that, for her mother, being named abbess of the convent was the closest thing Sybil de Blays could come to being a countess again. As Abbess of the Charitable Sisters, Mother Acelina would exercise considerable power and would be the equal to men who were secular or religious leaders. She would gain control over not only the convent but the secular life of the surrounding communities and act as a landlord and manager, even collecting revenue. Lady Sybil might have traded her identity as a member of the nobility to become Mother Acelina, but she now yielded as much power—if not more—as she had in her former life.

  Fo
r Sybil de Blays, it had always been about power. Katelyn’s understanding had grown and as she matured, she realized her mother didn’t do what she did for God. Mother Acelina did it for herself. She was like an all-powerful goddess who expected everyone to worship her or suffer the consequences.

  Yet, she had never forced Katelyn into the religious life. True, she was required to attend mass twice a day, Prime and Vespers, but she had been excused from the other numerous prayer services throughout the day that the other women attended. After Terce, when prayers were recited about two hours after the women broke their fast each morning, Katelyn spent the rest of her day teaching oblates and postulates to read. She enjoyed the time spent with others since reading required her and her charges to speak. Katelyn would read aloud during these lessons and ask those she tutored to do the same. If she hadn’t heard voices during these lessons, she might have gone mad long ago since, beyond prayers, silence was observed the remainder of the day, even at meals.

  After gathering the eggs laid by the nunnery’s dozen hens, she scattered feed across the yard. Her chickens came rushing toward her, clucking noisily as they attacked their food with gusto. Katelyn leaned against the coop and watched them, smiling. One, her favorite, came and plopped upon her foot. She picked the hen up and cradled it, stroking the soft feathers as she closed her eyes. Once, she had done the same with horses. Memories of her running her hands along a horse’s flanks stirred. She could smell the horse as she buried her face in its side. Her fingers itched to stroke a long, velvet nose again. Loving horses had seemed so uncomplicated.

  “Remember not to dawdle. You shouldn’t keep Mother waiting,” Sister Martha reminded her.

  Katelyn had almost forgotten the nun had accompanied her to the yard. She placed the hen back on the ground and picked up the two large baskets filled to the brim with eggs.

  “I’ll take these to the kitchen and then milk the goats. Then I’ll go straight to Mother’s office,” she promised the older woman.

  Sister Martha’s eyes narrowed. “See that you do.” The nun stormed off without a backward glance.

  For being a woman wed to Christ, Sister Martha wasn’t loving or friendly. In fact, Katelyn thought many of the nuns at the Convent of the Charitable Sisters seemed angry with their lots in life. She wondered how many of them had been forced by their families or some political action to take refuge within the nunnery’s walls and decided very few of the women present actually had a calling to serve God and the Living Christ.

  Katelyn took the gathered eggs to the kitchen, glad that her duties did not include cooking or washing. She thought those the hardest tasks at the convent and was grateful that she had never been assigned to the kitchen or washroom. Returning outside, she milked the goats and fed them, enjoying watching the younger ones scamper as they hopped and butted heads with one another.

  “Can we help?”

  She saw the two girls who’d stared at her this morning had arrived.

  “Aye. If you’ll each carry two buckets, I can go and set up for our reading lesson.”

  Their eyes lit up.

  “’Tis our favorite part of the day,” one confessed, a shy smile on her face.

  “Mine, too,” Katelyn assured them. “Be sure to walk carefully so that no milk spills. I will see you after I have spoken to the abbess.”

  She watched the little girls move away, carrying the buckets of milk. A wave of sadness hit her. This would be the only life these two ever knew, behind the walls of this convent. It made her all the more determined to try another escape. She loved God but wanted to see what the real world was like. A part of her hoped she might find Landon—and Quill.

  Landon had been her brother. They shared the same bedchamber and sat together at meals. Quill, on the other hand, had been a part of their lives. He looked so much like Landon that sometimes it was hard to tell them apart, though Landon had their father’s emerald green eyes. Quill’s could be green or brown, depending upon his mood. Even at a young age, Katelyn knew Quill was one of them—but not. Her mother refused to hear Quill’s name spoken in her presence and she despised any time they spent with Quill.

  Katelyn learned from eavesdropping on the servants that Quill was her half-brother and that his mother died. She never understood the hatred that her mother felt for Quill.

  If she could find Landon, the two of them could look for Quill.

  Katelyn bid her goats farewell and started toward the main building again. Her curiosity grew as she saw one of the nuns leading a knight and his horse. The knight, dressed in full armor, looped the reins of his magnificent horse around a post. Katelyn wondered what business he had at the convent. Sometimes, the nunnery would house travelers for the night, though she was never allowed to converse with them. The only other time someone came to visit was when the local priest arrived to hear confession and say mass or the bishop stopped to speak with Mother Acelina regarding Church business. Even then, they never had as grand a horse as the chestnut one now standing in the courtyard.

  The lines of the horse intrigued her. She remembered riding one similar, her father sitting behind her. A flood of memories came rushing back as she clearly recalled his features for the first time in years. She glanced from the horse to the knight, whose stance seemed familiar. He removed his helm and she saw thick, raven hair. Again, so reminiscent of her father’s. A physical ache tore through her. Something urged her to speak to this stranger. Katelyn lifted her skirts and ran toward him.

  She arrived too late, the man’s long strides already taking him inside, so she stopped next to his mount and stared at the animal’s physical beauty. It turned to look at her.

  “Hello, my beauty. I am Katelyn,” she said softly, holding her hand up so the horse could sniff it. It did and snorted.

  “I’m sorry I do not have a treat for you but I would love to pet you.” She kept her tone low and calm.

  Reaching out a hand, she brushed it against the long nose and shivered in pleasure. Gradually, she stroked the horse and then wrapped her arms about its neck, burying her face in its coat.

  “You smell divine,” she told the steed. “I would do anything to ride you.”

  Though she longed to stay with the horse, seeing its master became more important to her. Mayhap, she could convince the knight to take her away from the nunnery. Katelyn stroked the horse a final time and rushed inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust after being in the bright sunlight for so long. The hall stood empty so she gathered the stranger had business with the abbess and had been taken upstairs.

  Quickly, she set off for Mother Acelina’s office, seeing no one along the way. Katelyn pushed open the door that led to an anteroom and found it empty. The knight must already be inside, meeting with Mother. Fortunately, the door was slightly ajar and she had never been reluctant to eavesdrop. She tiptoed across the room and stood next to the oak door.

  “This makes the ninth nunnery I’ve visited in search of my sister,” a deep voice said. “Both the king and I suspected a convent would be the logical place his father might have sent my sister. King Edward has given me half a dozen men and two months to find her before I must return to Windsor Castle. I beg you, Mother, to share with me if any woman here fits the description I’ve given you. I would do anything to be reunited with my sister.”

  Katelyn heard the anguish in the man’s tone, even as a chill rippled through her.

  Could he be speaking of her?

  The knight had hair the color of Landon’s. His posture and gait had seemed familiar. A faint ray of hope touched her soul.

  “I am surprised you do not recognize me, Landon,” her mother said.

  Katelyn gasped and then threw a hand against her mouth, hoping the abbess hadn’t heard the noise. Her heart began pounding against her ribs as tears filled her eyes yet uncertainty filled her.

  Would her mother let her leave the confines of the convent?

  “I . . . am not sure how we would have met, Abbess.”

&nb
sp; Brittle laughter followed. Katelyn thought her mother hadn’t laughed since their time at Blackstone Castle.

  “Look closely, my son.”

  A long pause ended when the knight asked, “Mother?”

  “Aye, ’tis exactly who I am, Landon.” She sighed. “You have matured in the years we’ve been apart but I would know you anywhere. You resemble your father a great deal. And here you are, a knight of the realm, Sir Landon de Blays. I suppose it was a good thing they forced the king to renounce his throne. It seems your cousin, the present king, has looked after you.”

  “King Edward has been nothing but kind to me from the beginning. He also wants to extend that kindness to Katelyn. Please, Mother, I beg you to tell me. Is she here?”

  Katelyn couldn’t wait any longer. She pushed the door open and rushed into the room. Her brother sprang to his feet, joy breaking out across his face as he recognized her.

  “Katelyn!”

  She fell into his arms, laughing and crying, tears of happiness spilling down her cheeks.

  “I have looked for you, Sister,” Landon said. He searched her face and then kissed her brow tenderly.

  “I knew you were somewhere out there. I prayed the day would come when we would be reunited,” she said fervently. “I have fled several times, wanting to find you. She always had me brought back. Starved and beaten for disobedience.”

  Landon released her and glared at their mother. “You have kept her here against her will? Have you forced her to take the vows of a nun, Mother?”

  Mother Acelina gave them a cool look. “Nay. In fact, I now realize that your presence here is not in response to my missive to the king. You actually found your sister all on your own.”

  “You wrote to the king about me? When? Why?” Katelyn demanded.

  “Because you are a pawn, my dear daughter. A person others use to gain something. You’ve become of age to wed. I thought to use you as leverage. After all, you are a cousin to the king. And there are things I want.”