The Pawn

by Aston, Alexa

  Landon’s arm went protectively about her. His presence gave Katelyn comfort—and the strength to speak out.

  “You kept me here all these years, wishing to exploit me for your own personal gain?”

  Her mother shrugged. “Exploit is such a harsh word. I would say use the advantage I had. You wondered why I never insisted that you take your holy vows. I was waiting for the right time to barter you to the king. I would return his cousin to him, in return for a favor or two.”

  Rage filled her. “That’s all I am to you, Mother? A puppet in a game of power?”

  The abbess sprang to her feet. “I have protected you all these years, Daughter. Kept quiet about where you were. Bided my time. I wanted to let you escape this place. I never will.”

  “You are exactly where you want to be, Mother Acelina. As abbess of this convent, you have authority and control, not just of me, but over many lives. To think I once loved you. You love only yourself. You are spiteful and hunger for power. I doubt you ever loved Landon or me, much less Father.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Your father was a traitor,” she hissed. “His actions changed the course of all of our lives. We were stripped of everything, forced into new, unwanted lives. I did whatever I could to rise to the top again. I regret nothing I’ve done to attain my current position.”

  “I am taking Katelyn with me, Abbess.” Landon’s tone turned cold and formal. “The king wants my sister brought to court and will make a good marriage for her.”

  Mother Acelina fell back into her chair. “Then go. I have no need of either of you ungrateful children. I have my own flock that adores me. I will continue to minister to them.”

  Katelyn exited the room, Landon following her.

  Once they reached the staircase, he paused and said, “You need to collect your things. We will leave immediately.”

  “I have no things, Landon. Thought I never took the vows, I have lived in poverty. I possess another faded kirtle but the wool has holes in it and the garment has grown too short. I doubt it’s something the king would want to see me in.” She placed her hand on his arm. “All I want to do is leave this place and never look back.”

  Chapter Two

  Northmere—Northumberland

  Nicholas Mandeville raced across the meadow and into the forest, closely followed by men from Northmere and Ravenwood. It felt good to be hunting game and not fighting with the Scots, though their neighbors to the north had continued to slip across the English border and raid Northumberland of livestock and goods during the past year. King Edward might think he’d conducted his last campaign against Scotland but Nicholas felt in his bones that the English and those miserable Scots would clash until the end of time.

  The group had met with the huntsman a short while ago as they broke their fast, listening to where he had seen a hart’s tracks. Based upon the broken branches and droppings spotted, the hunting party had a good idea where their quarry would be today. The huntsman had already predicted the path the hart would move along and placed relays of dogs along it. This way, the hounds wouldn’t tire before the hart and could aid the men in surrounding the quarry and pinning it down.

  Nicholas slowed his horse as the trees thickened and listened carefully. He heard barking dogs to the east and urged Sunset on, knowing they must be close. As he rode and then met up with the first set of dogs, he caught sight of a tan flash ahead. The dogs now bayed madly and continued in pursuit of the deer, with the riders close behind them. The target led them on a merry chase, dashing and darting in long, elegant strides. After more than an hour of weaving in and out of the dense wood in pursuit, a horse sped past Nicholas on his right and he identified the blur as Favian Savill, his closest friend since their earliest days. With their families’ estates lying adjacent to one another, the boys had grown up together, first as playmates and then becoming closer than brothers when they fostered with Lord Bayard Stone at Stonegate.

  Competitive as always, Nicholas bore down on his friend, determined to pass him and reach the hart first. He scrambled past Favian and a short time later entered a clearing. The tired hart had finally stopped and now faced the hunters, ready to defend itself against the band of humans. Both Nicholas and Favian signaled to the hounds so that they would hold in place and not attack the prey.

  The rest of the hunting party arrived as the two men leaped from the backs of their mounts. As custom allowed, the most prominent man should make the kill with his sword or a spear. The dozen horses behind them halted as Nicholas gestured to his friend, words unnecessary between them. Each man fanned out in a different direction and approached the trembling hart. The panting beast looked from side to side and then turned to face one of them and then the other, unsure of what to do. Nicholas could see the deer’s heart thumping against its breast and felt a moment of pity for it.

  With a nod to Favian, he made his move. The hart whipped around and committed itself, charging toward Nicholas. He quickly dispatched the prey with his sword. Favian had moved in to assist him if Nicholas had needed help. At times, he marveled how the two of them could think as a single being. He felt blessed to be close to this brother of his choosing.

  Unlike his relationship with Bryce, his own flesh and blood.

  Turning, he faced the group of hunters. “’Tis time for the unmaking. Who will help dissect this hart?”

  Three men stepped forward. Nicholas pulled his sword from the deer and cleaned the weapon before sheathing it, reminding the men once they finished to reward the hounds with pieces of the carcass so that they would associate their effort today with this reward.

  “I know Sunset could use a good watering,” he said to Favian. “Shall we take our horses to the nearby stream?”

  They led their mounts to water and watched them lap greedily. Nicholas couldn’t imagine a more perfect day, full of sunshine and sport, one spent with a man he respected and adored.

  “You look happy, Favian,” Nicholas noted.

  His friend’s smile lit up his entire face. “I am, Nicholas. Catherine has made me so. I might have wed a stranger three months ago but now she is my everything. We are both good friends and lovers. I care for her and depend upon her opinions.” Favian leaned in. “In fact, I believe I am in love with her.”

  A pang of jealousy struck Nicholas. Seeing the joy on Favian’s face made him want to share in that kind of happiness. He had been betrothed from a young age but the lady had died of a fever, along with her sister and mother, several years ago. Now that he was five and twenty, Nicholas decided he should approach his father and insist it was time for the heir to Northmere to wed. If his mother had been alive, Nicholas was sure a betrothal and nuptial mass would have already taken place. She would long ago have reminded her husband of this duty. Unfortunately, her untimely death had put his father into a dark state of mind the past few years. Since Lord Cedric had not brought up the idea, Nicholas determined he would do so. He might be as lucky as his friend and find a wife he would cherish.

  “Come. We should rejoin the others,” he said. “That is, if you can stop thinking about Catherine long enough to mount your horse and return home.”

  Favian grinned. “Tease all you want, Nicholas. I cannot wait for you to wed and enjoy marital bliss as I do.”

  Nicholas swung into Sunset’s saddle and turned the horse. Without warning, a wild boar crashed from the forest, heading straight for them. Sunset whinnied and jerked to the right, almost unseating Nicholas, leaving Favian as the lone target of the charging boar. Before Nicholas could alert his friend to the danger, the animal reached Favian, who had one foot in the stirrups and his back to the boar. It gored Favian in his upper thigh. As blood spurted, he fell to the ground and the boar trampled him.

  Vaulting from his horse, Nicholas drew his sword and arced it overhead. It cut through the air and sliced the head from the boar in one fell swoop. The animal collapsed, Favian under it.

  Panic seized Nicholas. He shouted for help, hoping it would arri
ve quickly. Finding a reserve of strength beyond measure, he tossed aside his weapon and thrust his arms under the boar, scooping the beast from Favian and slinging it away.

  Kneeling, he laid a hand on his friend’s brow and grasped his broken hand. A glance up and down revealed Favian covered in blood, his chest crushed and his breathing labored. Not even a talented healer would be able to save his life. Nicholas saw the dying light in Favian’s eyes. He recognized it from his time on the battlefield and knew the end was imminent.

  Favian gave him a weak smile. “Take care . . . of Catherine . . . for me, Nick. She won’t forgive me . . . for dying. Promise . . . me.”

  Nicholas squeezed Favian’s hand. “I promise.”

  “Good,” Favian wheezed. He coughed violently and blood bubbled up, pouring from his mouth. Favian took a final, anguished breath and fell silent.

  “No!” Nicholas shouted hoarsely.

  He was dully aware of others arriving. Moving him away from the now lifeless body. Only moments ago, his friend had been full of life. In love with his new wife.

  And now Sir Favian Savill lay dead.

  What would he tell Lord Terald? And Catherine?

  *

  Nicholas downed the last of his ale and left the great hall. He had promised his sister they would go riding today. Bethany loved animals, especially horses, and so he made time to take her across the estate on horseback once a week. Sometimes they ventured beyond the borders of Northmere and went to the local village. Other times, they rode toward Ravenwood so that they could call upon Lord Terald and Lady Catherine.

  Three months had passed since Favian’s tragic death in the forest. Nicholas remembered his promise to take care of Catherine and decided that enough time had passed. He would speak to Favian’s widow first and determine if she would be willing to wed him. He could think of no better way to protect her. Marrying her would help Nicholas keep a piece of his friend with him always. If she agreed to the match, he would then go to his father and inform Lord Cedric that he had arranged to wed their neighbor. Nicholas would enter this marriage knowing his wife loved another and always would but he determined he would be a good husband to her and remain faithful always.

  He climbed the stairs and went to Bethany’s chamber. She sat on the floor, playing with a doll that he’d made for her. Glancing at the tray, he saw she’d eaten about half of her midday meal. Dining in the great hall was beyond her. Around large groups of people, she became skittish and tearful. They’d found it was better to allow her to eat in private.

  Nicholas wondered what his sister might have been like if the accident hadn’t occurred, though his gut told him then and now that it was no accident. As a two-year-old girl, Bethany had been bright and inquisitive. She’d walked and talked earlier than her brothers had. He’d doted on her, enjoying carrying her on his shoulders and bouncing her on his knee, telling her stories.

  Bryce had been jealous of Bethany from the beginning. Nicholas could never understand why a boy of eight would feel threatened by a newborn girl but Bryce had never liked his new sister. Nicholas had caught him pinching Bethany when she was only a few months old, making her cry as he laughed about it. He’d thrashed his brother, warning him if he ever harmed Bethany again, Nicholas would not just go to their parents.

  He would kill Bryce.

  After that, Bryce left Bethany alone. The boys were away a good portion of the year, fostering in different households in Northumberland. When they returned home on infrequent visits, Bryce steered clear of his sister. Until the day he didn’t.

  He tearfully told his parents that Bethany had been crying inconsolably and that he’d picked her up to comfort her. Knowing his brother to be selfish to the core, Nicholas doubted the story from the beginning. It was what followed that he found even harder to believe. Bryce said he knew Bethany liked horses and he thought to calm her by taking her to visit the stables. They’d entered the stall of Devil, their father’s unpredictable mount. Everyone, including Bryce, was frightened of the temperamental beast. Somehow, a wiggling Bethany had supposedly broken free from her brother’s arms and scampered behind Devil. The horse had kicked her in the head. Bryce then left Bethany in the stall with the beast and ran for help.

  Nicholas still remembered Bryce entering the keep, a sly smile on his face. When he saw his brother, Bryce’s smile had turned into a frown. Bryce ran toward him. The story tumbled from him and Nicholas had rushed to the stables. He found Bethany unconscious, lying in a heap. Devil stood in the corner. The fact that Devil hadn’t trampled the girl to death was nothing short of a miracle. Nicholas had gently lifted his sister’s body and returned her to the keep. He’d prayed every step of the way, begging the Virgin to spare his sister’s life, promising he would be responsible for her always.

  Bethany lay unmoving for four days and then awakened—but she had never been the same since. She could speak only a few words at a time. Though she grew physically, she never matured in other ways, remaining a simple child even now though she was ten and five. Bryce pretended to be contrite but Nicholas saw through his deception. He’d never been fond of his brother before and this incident increased the animosity between them. Nicholas believed that Bryce had wanted to kill Bethany and failed.

  And that Bryce would love to kill his brother, as well.

  As the oldest Mandeville, Nicholas would inherit the title and estate. Bryce remained resentful that he was two years younger and never bothered to hide his envy. Though he’d become a knight two years ago and returned to Northmere to live, Bryce proved to be a lazy soldier. Nicholas remained wary at all times, believing that if given an opportunity, Bryce would try to eliminate him so that he would become the heir to the earldom. With the way their father favored Bryce, Lord Cedric would probably turn a blind eye and accept whatever tale Bryce told about Nicholas’ death.

  Bethany glanced up from her play and beamed at him. She dropped her doll and scrambled to her feet. Nicholas strode toward her and she locked her arms about his waist, burying her face against his chest. A sweet pouring of love rushed through him. Bethany was always happy to see him.

  She lifted her head, an eager look on her face. “Go ride?”

  “Aye, my lady. Where would you have us go today?”

  Bethany frowned. He wondered what thought was like for her.

  “Catherine,” she said at last. “Cat.”

  Though most people might have thought she used Cat as a nickname for Catherine, Nicholas knew his sister wanted to go see the Ravenwood cat which had given birth to kittens. Catherine Savill had promised one to Bethany once they were weaned. The kittens should be eight weeks old now so they would probably return from Ravenwood today with a ball of fur. He better alert Mary, the servant who cared for Bethany.

  “Let’s go see the kittens and Catherine,” Nicholas said.

  Mary entered the chamber then and he told her to be ready for Northmere’s newest resident upon their return.

  “I think it’ll be good for Lady Bethany to have a kitten to care for,” Mary proclaimed. “She’s very loving with her doll and you know how mad she is for animals. Don’t worry, Sir Nicholas. I’ll have everything ready when you return.”

  Nicholas escorted Bethany to the stables. As they passed the training yard, he nodded to his father, who stood on a raised platform observing the soldiers’ exercises along with Rafe Mandeville, Northmere’s captain of the guard and Nicholas’ uncle. Usually, Nicholas spent a good portion of his time working with individual men in the yard but his father supported him in his efforts to carve out time with Bethany each week.

  When they reached the stables, Bryce emerged. Instantly, Bethany shrank against Nicholas, gripping him tightly.

  “Greetings, little sister,” Bryce said, winking at her. “I see you’re going to ride with your big brother.” He gave Nicholas a cool look and walked away without addressing him.

  Nicholas took Bethany into the stables and had her remain outside the stall while he readied Suns
et. He always took Bethany up with him. Her mind was too simple to teach her to control a horse. Surprisingly, her accident had left her with no fear of horses. She enjoyed brushing them and feeding them apples. She even liked to be given the reins so she could lead Sunset outside and would walk tall and proud as she did so.

  He gave her the reins now and kept close as they ventured back outside. Passing the stall Devil had been housed in always brought a bitterness to him. His father had Devil put down after Bethany’s injury. Nicholas had thought it a waste of a good horse. Bryce never should have been in the war horse’s stall, much less with a small child. Every now and then, Nicholas had a nightmare where he saw Bryce push Bethany behind Devil and jabbed the horse in the side with a needle so it kicked out. He would awake in a cold sweat, knowing between his dream and Bryce’s story lay the truth.

  He mounted Sunset and brought Bethany up into the saddle in front of him. Though he navigated where the horse went and held its reins, Nicholas allowed her to clasp a portion of the reins lightly so she would feel as if she steered Sunset on her own. They trotted through the baileys and out the open gates.

  “Fast!” Bethany cried. “Now!”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  Nicholas nudged Sunset with his thighs and the horse responded. They galloped past fields of amber and turned west once they reached the road to Ravenwood. Arriving half an hour later, he acknowledged the gatekeeper as they rode past and went directly to the stables. A young boy took charge of Sunset and told them Lady Catherine was in the far corner of the stables with the mother cat and her kittens.

  “I go?” Bethany asked.

  “You may.”

  She took off running. Nicholas stayed close behind to make sure she arrived with no problems. Bethany entered the stall where the kittens were housed and dropped to her knees. He saw the mother cat lying contentedly on the hay, watching her kittens scrambling about the stall.

  “Greetings, Bethany. Nicholas.” Catherine stood and brushed hay from her cotehardie. “I’ll bet you’ve come to pick out which kitten you want to take home with you.”