He motioned towards the stream running alongside the path and led her down to it. “Clean yourself up here.”
She nodded and gratefully washed her face and hands in the water. Her long, fair hair was streaked with red and she crouched to rinse it out, trying to control her shaking. Evelyn was no stranger to death, but she had never before been at risk of it, and such violence was rarely seen in Beldesert.
Gabriel glanced at her as he rinsed the blood off his own hands. The light highlighted the soft waves from behind as she bent to rinse her hair, giving him cause to stop and watch. His breath caught and, collecting himself, he smirked. Even blood splattered she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Evelyn possessed the delicate features and porcelain skin of someone who had been sheltered from the hardships of life. Truly the contrast of his own dark looks, Gabriel understood what an imposing figure he cut, and often used it to his advantage, but he felt an uncommon sense of remorse at frightening her and he wished he was more able to play the role of the chivalrous knight.
***
A few more hours passed and they arrived at Etone Castle, the remainder of the journey having continued uneventfully. If she had thought Sir Gabriel reticent before, she was wholeheartedly convinced of his cold nature by the end of their journey. His blazing eyes gave the only indication of acknowledgement of her, flicking across her every now and then. His anger was still evident as he clutched at his reigns, but she attempted to fortify herself against his cold stares, bringing her chin up brazenly. She hoped he did not notice her fear, for the forest had lost all appeal and now each shadow gave her cause to jump.
The castle loomed before them as they approached it via a causeway. Built of local stone, the great red structure towered over the surrounding countryside. The four towers of the square keep stood proud and helmeted heads could be seen dotted along the walls. A vast mere glistened to the left of the causeway and a moat surrounded the fortress, encircling it until it met with the other side of the causeway.
Passing through the outer gates of the curtain wall Evelyn was struck by the disquiet that hung in the air. In spite of the jumble of buildings surrounding the castle, there was not the buzz of activity that she had expected. Beldersert, by comparison, was always bustling with movement. Villeins watched them with suspicion, their quiet chatter not quite reaching her ears.
As they worked their way through the narrow streets, Evelyn noted the small signs hanging from various dwellings indicating their profession, along with a gathering of market stalls spread out through the wider streets. It was still a far cry from the exciting experience that she had anticipated upon seeing the vastness of Tibald’s domain.
As Gabriel led them past the guard house, Evelyn was filled with trepidation. Ahead of her the keep towered over the landscape, imposing and dark; its stone a scorching crimson under the dwindling light, a foreboding notion of what was to come. She felt as if she were entering the underworld, led by the devil himself, never to return. She wondered if she was being overly dramatic but the grim faces of the peasants and guards did little to dispel this notion.
After the stable hand took her horse, showing little interest in her bloodied attire, Gabriel escorted her into the castle. As he went to find a maid, Evelyn studied the entranceway to the keep. It was luxuriously appointed - carved oak furniture, great twisted candelabras and immense tapestries all spoke of the inhabitants’ wealth.
She studied the tapestry in front of her with a morbid curiosity. It depicted a great battle - knights on horseback trampling across skewered bodies whilst injured men crawled across the dirt, clutching at comrades legs, begging for aid. Misgiving shivered through her and she was grateful to be interrupted by Sir Gabriel and a young serving girl, whose eyes widened upon viewing Evelyn’s attire.
“Mary will help you clean and change. I will inform Lord Tibald of your arrival. He will be awaiting you in the Great Hall.”
Gabriel gave a quick nod to Evelyn, turned on his heel and strode in the direction of what Evelyn assumed must be the hall. She watched him leave, surprised at her sudden feeling of loneliness. Was she so much in want of company that a man with such little civility, and a temper to match was her best option?
Mary, a slight girl, with a fair but simple face, gave Evelyn a shy smile and silently led her to one of the bedroom chambers. Given the extravagant nature of the décor, she was surprised at the sparseness of the chambers, contradictory to the luxury she had seen thus far. A small fire had already been lit in the grate but the room still made her shudder. A small, plain chest sat in one corner for her belongings and the bed, whilst curtained, looked old and disused. Mayhap Lord Tibald intended to crush her into submission to him by way of neglect. Well, she thought to herself, it would take a little more than a few dank tapestries.
With the help of Mary, Evelyn was soon washed and changed into a sumptuous gown, deep red in colour. Rather incompatible with her current surroundings, but more suited to the elegance of the entrance of the castle. The long pendant sleeves were embellished with gold and a lavish girdle to match was slung low across her hips, emphasising her trim waist. Mary fastened her hair into an elaborate plait, threading a gold ribbon through it.
Having brought only a small amount of her own belongings she had been gladdened to find an opulent selection of gowns awaiting her. It vexed her slightly to imagine the hand of Lord Tibald picking them out, but she reasoned that it was more likely a servant had done so, and Evelyn was glad to shed her bloodied gown and the memories of their journey.
She was ushered into the main hall where she was presented to Lord Tibald. The Great Hall was a far cry from her lodgings with its vaulted ceilings and colourful décor. A minstrel’s gallery spanned the top and stone pillars ran down either side, not unlike that of the aisle of a church. Although Evelyn had attended many a gathering with her father in halls much like these, this one had to be the grandest that she had ever stepped foot in. A large fire crackled to one side and tapestries hung gaily on the walls to ward off the cold. Tallow candles jutted out from the walls, impaled upon iron spikes and candelabras sat throughout.
Trying, and failing, to keep the awe from her face, she turned her attention to the lord of this keep. Perched atop a grandly carved chair upon a raised dais, she noted that he was more handsome than she had expected. She had thought he would have a sinister air to him and anticipated him to have a dark colouring to match his blackened reputation. Something more like Sir Gabriel, she mused.
He stood at his lord’s side, a detached look on his face, a far cry from the thunderous look she had experienced on their journey. He had also changed out of his armour. It should have softened him, but somehow he didn’t look any less dangerous.
Tibald had a Norseman’s colouring with fair skin and thick, wavy hair. Only a touch of grey hinted at his age and she suspected he had many more years before him than to come. She noted his reddened nose and a widening waist, likely a product of overindulgence. However, he was still in good physical condition. A dark blue tunic was stretched across broad shoulders and she suspected he would be very capable in battle.
He observed her through grey eyes as her crunching steps across a rush strewn floor brought her closer to him. A flicker of a smile sat upon his lips above a clean shaven chin and it broadened at what he saw as he bowed his head in greeting. As she dipped to him in deference he looked down at her from his chair with an arrogant air, as if inspecting his goods.
“Lady Evelyn, I thank you for gracing us with your presence. You are indeed without equal, I am deeply honoured.”
Evelyn looked at him incredulously; did he think her so simple that a little flattery would make up for being forced into this meeting by his skulking henchman? She tamped down on her anger and fixed a smile to her face. Now was not the time for quarrelling.
“Lord Tibald, the honour is mine.”
His smile broadened at her demure response and he stroked at his chin, donning a
look of feigned sympathy. “I was sorry to hear of Sir Roger’s death.”
“Thank you, my lord. He will be deeply missed…particularly by his people,” she added pointedly.
“Indeed, indeed.” He seemed to study her for a moment, probably trying to decide if she was attempting to rile him. “I hear tale of troubles on your journey, my lady.”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed and she glared at Gabriel before turning her attention to Lord Tibald. The conceited look in his gaze riled her and in that instant she saw through the façade of chivalry to the black heart that lay beneath.
“If you had permitted me to travel with a guard then it need not have happened,” she said haughtily.
Tibald laughed, “Oh, you are safe enough in Gabe’s hands. He is worth ten of your men as I think you did witness for yourself, did you not? “
Evelyn looked back to Gabriel, expecting to see pride in his face at his master’s words but there was none. Instead there was a look she couldn’t read. He was a difficult man to make out. Neither chivalrous nor chauvinist, he treated everyone with equal brooding contempt. She suspected a quick mind worked behind those blue eyes but there was one thing she could be sure of, he was a merciless man. She had already seen him in action and she knew that anyone in Lord Tibald’s employ would likely have a heart of stone and little soul left.
Lord Tibald watched her with interest, a self-satisfied smile still on his face. “You must be worn from your journey, my lady. Will you not retire to your chamber? I will have a servant bring you up some refreshments henceforth. We can discuss the matter of your lands over supper.”
Evelyn almost protested, wanting to hear Lord Tibald’s proposition so she could be on her way home again but, knowing it was unlikely she would be leaving yet and no more journeys would be taken today, she acquiesced. She would be more likely able to assert herself after some food and rest. She had the feeling she would need all her wits about her now that she was in Tibald’s claws.
“As you will, my lord. Until tonight.”
She gave a dip and headed towards her chamber, deliberately pacing her steps, preventing herself from running off out of his gaze. She could feel his eyes upon her still and it took all her control not to shudder. One sign of weakness and she knew this man would have no mercy.
As she left Tibald turned to Gabriel. “Keep a close watch on her, Gabe. I sense this maiden to be troublesome.”
***
Supper was an extravagant affair and Evelyn felt a little self-conscious sitting at the long trestle table with only Sir Gabriel and Lord Tibald for company, the rest of the household dining on tables set up along the sides of the hall.
She wished she had been able to take supper in her room. The table laid out with white linen, elaborate candelabras and pewter plates begged for guests and she wondered at the lack of other visitors but, having already sampled a taste of the lord’s hospitality, she supposed other noble folk preferred to visit with more welcoming hosts.
With only the servants and the hounds in the corner for distraction, Evelyn struggled to pick at her food, uncomfortable under the watchful gaze of the two men. She caught Sir Gabriel’s disapproving stare on her several times that evening and each time it caused her cheeks to flame, his scrutiny sending a shiver down her spine.
“So, my lady to the reason of your visit…” Tibald spoke to her between mouthfuls. “As you are no doubt aware, since the death of Sir Roger, your land is in an increasingly vulnerable state. With no male heir-”
“My brother, William, is still the heir to Beldersert,” she interrupted.
He blinked at her, surprised by the interruption. “And pray tell me, where is your brother? I had been reliably informed he was in the Holy Land and there was some doubt as to whether he was still alive.”
Evelyn bristled at this; it was not as though she didn’t consider that he may have been lost to them in that unforgiving land, but she was determined to hold on to hope.
“He has been informed of my father’s death and will be returning soon to take his place as the rightful heir.”
“If he is still alive…you would do wisely to accept it likely he has been killed in battle. Many a good soldier has passed on at the end of a Saracen sword in these foolish crusades.”
“I know he’s still alive.” She set her jaw determinedly.
“Of course you do,” He smiled patronisingly at her, “and when did you last hear from him?”
She stumbled at this. “’Twas a while ago…but I have no doubt he will be returning soon.” She tried to inject confidence into her statement, even if she did not feel it.
“Then allow me to suggest, Lady Evelyn, that you remain here as my guest until the return of your brother,” He placed a hand upon hers, “and in the meantime, I will help watch over Beldersert for you and ensure…no harm comes to your beloved people.”
Now we see the true measure of the man, Evelyn thought to herself, trying not to flinch under his unwelcome touch. Tibald planned to use her people’s safety as a bargaining tool.
“You cannot hold me here against my will.”
“Lady Evelyn, I do not wish to keep you prisoner. You are free to come and go as you please. What fanciful notions!” He shared a smile with Gabriel, although he did not return the look. “I merely wish to offer you protection.”
“I have no need of your protection, my lord. I thank you for your offer, but I am entirely capable of defending my people.”
He pursed his lips and gave her a patronising look.
“Lady Evelyn, I do not doubt your courage,” he said reluctantly, “but you must realise these are dangerous times. Should you choose to leave…well, there is no telling what may happen to your people.” He gave her a pointed look.
A feeling of resignation darted through her, the weariness of grief and responsibility pressing upon her, and she knew she would have to do everything she could to ensure her peoples safety. She snapped out of her deliberation when she realised Lord Tibald was addressing her once more.
“Indeed, I could give you much more than merely protection if you would accept an offer of marriage.”
She looked at him in surprise and slipped a glance to Gabriel who was studiously concentrating on his meal.
“Lord Tibald, I have no wish to marry you! My brother shall be returning soon and I will have no want for protection.”
Evelyn’s cool composure slipped at the mention of marriage. Although she expected an offer as such, his leering manner repelled her and she answered more aggressively than intended.
Tibald’s jaw ticked as he considered her, his smile quickly gone and a cold anger visible in his face. “Very well,” He laughed suddenly, making her jump, “I shall not take offence at your refusal. I can see you are a woman who values your independence. Stay here as my guest until your brother returns.”
Considering her options for a moment, Evelyn nodded.
“I thank you, my lord, I will stay.”
She tried not to sound testy, unwilling to aggravate the lord and he seemed satisfied for the moment, tucking into his meal again with great delight and they fell into silence, the repellent noises of his consumption making her stomach roll.
When the meal ended, a grateful Evelyn excused herself to the courtyard, desperate for an escape from the confinements of the castle walls.
Watching Evelyn leave, Tibald leant over to Gabriel. “Find out what you can about her brother.”
As she quickly escaped outside, relishing the fresh air and small sense of freedom, Gabriel followed silently behind.
Tibald eyed his progress, observing his large frame move stealthily out of the room. Whilst he had not garnered Lady Evelyn’s hand in marriage, he felt pleased with the outcome of her visit. She was here, in his hands, and he smiled, knowing it would not be long before she would submit to him. And what a pleasure that would be. He had heard of the lovely Evelyn’s beauty but it certainly was a sight to behold. All airs and graces, confined within a tantalizing p
ackage. He would soon strip her of her snobbery, he thought with a smirk.
He could be patient, he would bide his time and she would be his; body and soul, and he would finally have his hands on her land. Their adjoining lands would be one of the largest demesnes in Warwickshire and no-one would dare threaten such power.
Foolish Roger should have just offered her to him when he had the chance, instead he would take great pleasure in breaking his precious daughter, ridding her of her spoilt self-assurance. The thought of her slender body in his bed, her doe eyed pleading, sent a rush of a thrill through him and, draining his wine, he went in search for a comely servant girl, a meagre substitute for Lady Evelyn but a warm body nonetheless.
***
He stood at the edge of the courtyard, hidden in the shadows, just watching her for a few moments. Her rejection of Tibald’s marriage proposal was likely to anger the lord, and was no doubt not a wise one, but Gabriel had found himself admiring the bravery she had displayed. She sat on a stone bench, lit only by the moonlight, her hands clasped together as if trying to comfort herself. A look of weariness sat in her expression, one that he recognised as it was too often written on his own face.
As he stepped out of the shadows, he saw Evelyn start slightly and he was reminded as to the differences between them - the refined lady and the roughened knight. It seemed their physical appearance served to emphasise their dissimilarities, her pale beauty offering a stark contrast to his dark coarseness.
“Sir Gabriel! I did not see you there.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I meant not to startle you.”
She smiled at him and for a moment he forgot the reason he was there. Knowing there was a purpose to his presence he meant to question her about her brother but for reasons unknown even to himself he did not. Instead, with Tibald’s anger at her fresh in his mind, he moved towards her.
The Crimson Castle Page 2
