by Fiona Neal
“Have no fear, my lady. We shall do all we can to safeguard your virtue. I swear this on my sword and on my life as a knight,” Edmund let her know.
But the words almost stuck in Edmund’s throat. Nevertheless, he would safeguard her virtue. Still, he would take her life as soon as he had the opportunity. He must to save Edith, his sister.
“I believe you, Sir Edmund,” Alice said. She pulled his heavy woolen garment closer to her.
“Thank you, my lady” Edmund replied, bowing slightly.
“But I wish to say in front of witnesses that I do not want to pretend to marry anyone. Had I aspired to take part in the sacrament of matrimony, I should have done so,” Lady Alice spoke with authority.
“I’m afraid you have no choice. We must follow Lord De Winter’s orders.” The abbess replied. “And you must have an heir.”
Edmund had to agree with the nun.
The abbess then went to her outer room and returned with a leather pouch. “This is your dowry, which your grandfather gave to the convent when you came, intending for you to become a member of this community, my lady. I now return it to you to give to him, as is our custom if you do not stay here.”
Alice took the pouch. “Yes, the money now belongs to my grandfather. Nevertheless, I thank you, Reverend Mother.”
“You must sleep here, my child,” the abbess told her. “I shall have the sisters put a small bed here for me, so you will not be alone.”
“Thank you, Reverend Mother,” Lady Alice said.
“Sir Edmund has brought simple clothes that are befitting the wife of a landless knight,” the Abbess Enid told her. “He has also brought amblers, so you may ride in comfort.”
The ambler horses had a fifth gait, which was a fast walk. A person could travel a long distance on them and not suffer from fatigue or a sore back side.
“We have sworn to protect you, my lady,” Sir Edmund said. “We have brought all that you will require for this journey. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached under his mail shirt and pulled out a golden ring. “This was your grandmother’s ring. Lord De Winter bade me give it to you. May I take your hand?”
“Yes, of course; but again, I do so under protest.” She held out her hand.
Edmund saw how delicately her fingers tapered. He took her hand in his callus-hardened one, and he slipped the gold band on her lovely third finger of her left hand. It was a hand that had not done any hard work, but she was a lady. He wished he could hold that fine hand longer, but it would be unseemly.
Why entertain such thoughts when it would be so counterproductive to what I must do?
“Thank you, Sir Edmund,” Alice said, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Edmund saw her obvious grief and sadness. He wished he could lighten her great burden. The lady had lost so much, and a life of heavy responsibility would have remained as the prospect in her future—but she would not live to fulfill that future—when he took her life.
“Let us sleep, Lady Alice” the abbess suggested. “Tomorrow, if you are able you will travel.”
If all went according to her grandfather’s plan, she must marry a man of her Lord De Winter’s choosing, bear heirs, and administer a large estate. But if Edmund had his way that would never happen.
Still, he hoped to bring her some solace in the journey that lay ahead…until. Oh, he did not want to think about murdering her now.
Even though custom and social class forbade Edmund from ever marrying her, he couldn’t stop desiring her. In fact, he wanted her too much.
If only he didn’t have to perform this other heinous mission, this slaughtering of an innocent woman—his life would be so much better.
* * * *
“We heard the Lady Alice took exception to pretending to being your wife.” Sir Crispin chuckled as they sat, enjoying the breakfast the nuns had provided in the refectory of the guesthouse the next morning. “I thought the lady would have accepted with great pleasure…if the lust I often see in your female admirers’ eyes is anything to assess the affect you usually have on women.”
“Yes, you do have great success with the fairer sex when you chose to do so,” Sir Nigel lifted his container of beer.
“Stop it, you two,” Edmund snapped. “The Lady Alice does not care about men or money for that matter. She was ready to renounce those things to become a nun, and well you know it. And this place must have a rumor mill worse than the one at De Winter Castle for you to have heard what she said this fast.”
“As for not caring about men, I think that was before she met you.” Sir Crispin winked and lifted his mug of beer.
“Why are you talking about me? I have no woman. I’ve not had one since…. Well, I haven’t been with a woman in quite a while, and you know that too.” Edmund spoke the truth.
“But that is the way you want it,” Sir Nigel replied.
“True, you never encourage any of them,” Sir Crispin added.
“Maybe I don’t,” Edmund protested. “But the two of you are the ones who have ladies. I do not. Besides, we are all landless knights with nothing to offer a marriageable woman.”
“Some women prefer other things besides material comforts,” Crispin ventured and bobbed his brows. “Besides, why are you so irritable this morning? Maybe you are not getting certain needs met.”
“That is quite enough on the subject, Crispin.” Edmund used a tone that told his friends he had heard too much on that particular issue.
“Fine,” Nigel said. “Have you found out if Lady Alice is fit to travel today? We have not seen her.”
“Nor have I,” Edmund replied.
But perhaps she had died during the night from the shock of the bad news, and I won’t have to perform the foul murder Still, I don’t want the beautiful, young woman to die.
And Edmund certainly did not want to be the one to end her life.
“Let us see if the woman can travel. We can then plan our strategy. If she is better,” and he really hoped she was, “we can go. If she can travel, I hope we can cover at least thirty miles today.”
Edmund and his friends stood and made their way out of the refectory.
* * * *
Sending a message to Sir Edmund that she was able to travel, Alice returned to her room after she had breakfast with the abbess. She felt very much better physically, so she insisted on going back to De Winter Castle. The quicker she got to her home, the quicker she could start her new life—the one God intended for her—or at least she thought of this situation that way.
After changing into the clothes sent by her grandfather, she took the brush of marshmallow wood and a pinch of salt and sage, and tended to her teeth. The salt would take away any debris, and the sage would sweeten her breath.
Her long red hair now hidden by the wimple and veil of a married woman, Alice then joined the knights with just a few possessions, such as her under cloths and her comb, which lay in her bag. She gave the parcel to a groom who put it in the luggage cart.
She then went to the stables where she met her escort, and she was struck by how handsome Lord Edmund looked this morning. The other knights, Sir Crispin and Sir Nigel were good looking, too. Still, she should not be thinking that way.
Her grandfather would choose her husband. She prayed to God that his choice would be a good man with fine morals.
Lord Edmund helped her mount her copper-colored ambler. The knight got into their saddles, and rode out the abbey. The pack horses followed with the combined luggage, which was in a cart pulled by a team of draft horses.
It was still early, and the sky above loomed dark and starless, as they began the three-and-a-half-day trek toward her ancestral home.
Emotionally, Alice still felt numb with shock. It was difficult to comprehend how she could have a family one day and have just her grandfather the next. Of course, she thanked God he had been spared.
Her grandfather was the one man who had always treated her kindly. Her father, disappointed that she was a female, didn�
��t give her much of his time—even when her mother had been alive—and even though she could inherit.
Furthermore, she had looked forward with great anticipation to becoming a Benedictine nun. The quiet, prayerful, contemplative life had attracted her. She anticipated growing herbs and making remedies to cure the sick and end their suffering. Those poor souls came to the abbey for treatment.
Alice also enjoyed the peaceful period of the day at the abbey when she could meditate on the goodness and mercy of God.
She also liked the relaxing tasks of spinning wool, flax, and sewing the lovely altar clothes of linen. Many of them had intricate embroidery, which she also enjoyed doing.
Of course, there was much other hard work, but she liked to be occupied with useful tasks.
And I feel safe and secure in the abbey, so much safer than I feel in De Winter Castle.
Yes, she knew that as a nun she would never marry or hold her own child in her arms. Nevertheless, she felt it was better to be a bride of Christ than to marry a man she did not love—as so many women of her class had to do—for the sake of providing a suitable heir with noble bloodlines.
As of now, though, she must go home, for she would never wear the Benedictine habit or live in an abbey. That realization saddened her, but God had other plans for her and she must give her will to Him.
Alice furtively gazed at the tall, blonde knight, who rode beside her. She had strange feelings when she first saw this man—emotions that she could not quite explain. Was it a type of excitement? She felt very alert, and she certainly was aware of him—too aware. She had never experienced any sentiments quite like those. Still, he was a man and not to be trusted.
Furthermore, Alice had now become a great heiress, now that her father and all her siblings had made their untimely demises. She must marry a nobleman of wealth. Custom demanded it, and so would her grandfather. Alice must obey Lord De Winter in all righteous things. She had no illusions about that fact.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Sir Edmund asked. “You are so quiet.”
“I am fine,” she answered, “and thank you for your concern. I am accustomed to being silent. In the abbey we speak only when necessary.”
“Quiet can be a good thing,” he replied, “especially quiet of the spirit.”
“I agree,” she relied “A quiet spirit is restful.”
And it often happened that Alice usually did pray while she worked on something that did not require concentration, and riding this horse certainly did not require deep thought—if a person kept an eye out for danger. Surely, the nearby knights would do that.
She felt under her cloak to her belt where she had fastened her rosary beads. She began the series of prayers, which usually took about a quarter hour to finish. Perhaps thoughts of God and the saints would divert her thoughts from this most handsome knight. She certainly hoped that would happen.
She then thought of her deceased family and a terrible sense of grief descended upon her again.
* * * *
Edmund stole a quick glance at the beautiful redhead whose lovely tresses where covered with the wimple and veil of a married woman. He found it difficult not to stare at her. She was an incredibly stunning woman, but he must not gaze at her.
It will make killing her all the more difficult for me.
He looked at the road ahead, assessing the area around them. The November wind blew keenly, and the overcast sky seemed heavy with snow. He hoped they would arrive at the Gray Goose Inn before the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The sky darkened so early at this time of year.
They had left the abbey right after matins. The prayer service ended at dawn, so they had embarked on their journey quite early. They rode until midday, when they took their meal of bread, cheese, apples, and a drink of ale, which the abbess had provided. They also gave the horses a rest and some food and drink, but their final destination of the day was still some miles away.
Of course, they would stay at the Gray Goose Inn, God willing. It was a reputable place where travelers stayed. The taverns, on the other hand, were for the local population, not outsiders like him, his fellow knights, and the Lady Alice.
Besides, he would never allow her into a tavern. Prostitutes, wearing their yellow hoods, sat in those establishments, looking to sell their favors. He doubted that the virtuous Lady Alice, who had wanted to enter the convent, would even know what those women offered men. The upright young woman noblewoman would surely be stunned if she discovered about such things.
Still, a man has certain natural needs—urges that relentlessly nagged to be satisfied. And it was difficult to refrain from thinking about the normal happenings of life—like marriage and the birth of children.
Lady Alice must marry and bear children. That was her duty, as prescribed by custom and Holy Mother Church—if she did not take the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience to become a nun.
Nevertheless, the lady’s intimate life did not concern him. Even though he had wanted her desperately from the first moment he saw her, he had a ghastly task to perform.
I must murder this unsuspectingly woman. So…she is not for me—now or ever.
Furthermore, if he were not pledged to perform this horrible task, Lady Alice was a great heiress. He was a poor, landless knight who had to earn his daily bread by his sword in service to a great lord. He could never aspire to having her. The social gulf between them spanned much too wide ever to bridge.
Edmund decided he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand. So…he surveyed the scene around him.
It was difficult to assess what the time was for heavy clouds covered the sky, but he knew they had traveled some fifteen miles when they had stopped for the midday meal. A horse could do about thirty miles a day. He prayed it did not start to snow before they reached the inn. Nevertheless, Edmund also felt the daylight seemed duller and the temperature colder. No doubt, the overcast sky would soon deliver on its pledge of white flakes.
Soon, the fluffy precipitation began fall rapidly from the iron-gray sky and covered the landscape in a mantle of white.
He hoped that they would come to the Gray Goose Inn soon, but he could not see too far ahead because of the weather. Edmund became uneasy. Lady Alice had been shocked and stunned last night. Now the temperature seemed too cold for her. He urged his horse to move next to hers.
Edmund gazed at Lady Alice. She was shivering with vigor. She had become so pale—almost deathly so. She was heavily dressed, but she did not wear the twenty-five layers of padded linen he wore under his mail shirt, which was also covered with a tabard of heavy wool. The heavy pack of clothes kept him warm.
It had been sometime since he asked her if she was all right. From the look of her, she appeared quite distressed.
“My lady, you seem ill.”
Chapter Three
Lady Alice said nothing, but she nodded. Worse, she seemed as if she would fall from her mount.
“Nigel, Crispin, stop!”
Edmund reached for the reins of her ambler. He immediately stopped his animal and hers and dismounted. He then took her from her saddle. He sighed and he held her in his arms. Again he was surprised at how light she felt. The Lady Alice fasted too much, and now she was shivering with vigor.
His two fellow knights came to his aid, their faces registering concern as they saw the woman’s incapacitated condition.
“Let us place her in the luggage cart. It has a leather top, so she will be protected from the elements,” Edmund suggested. “Let us also cover her with our rugs.”
She was close to unconscious when they gently removed her snow-cover cloak and put her on the straw in the cart. Each knight took the rugs they usually slept on when they traveled and had to sleep outdoors when no inn was available nearby.
“Crispin, please ride ahead to the inn. We should be close to it. Ask the proprietor to prepare a room with a fireplace and some braziers. Apprise the owners that the Lady Alice needs warmth and rest. Make sure you get her dry
shift and stockings from the luggage, and have the maid warm them.”
“Right away, Edmund,” Crispin said. He mounted his ambler and headed away.
“Nigel, you will guide the luggage cart.”
And then he saw it. Ahead, the familiar village came into view. Edmund had traveled this road several times. They would be at the inn with a quarter hour.
Oh, thank God.
“We shall soon have a hot meal and a comfortable bed, my lady,” he informed her.
Unconscious now, Lady Alice did not even nod.
“I thank God, too,” Sir Nigel added.
“I believe we could all do with some food,” Edmund remarked, but he wasn’t really hungry. In fact, when he thought about what he must do tonight, his stomach turned, and he felt sick because he had a deed of treachery and murder to perform.
Maybe the merciful God would take the matter out of his hands. Perhaps the Almighty would bring the lovely lady to heaven this day from a natural illness.
But if the Lord of all did not, the real task and deception begins because I must kill the Lady Alice. And I must do it, or Edith, my dear, sweet sister, will die, for Lord Camden is holding her hostage. He will not hesitate to murder most brutally the kind, young woman.
I’m cold to my soul. Dear God, deliver me for committing evil.
The notion of slaughtering an innocent woman—a lady Edmund had sworn to protect—chilled him to the very marrow of his bones.
* * * *
They reined back their mounts and stopped under the great bare-limb oaks, as the snowflakes tumbled even harder from the gray, scowling sky.
“I am grateful we finally reached our destination and will not be caught in a snowstorm. The temperature is so cold.” Crispin declared, for he was waiting for his companions.
“Yes,” Edmund agreed. “It’s a bone-piercing cold. I trust the rooms are ready.”
“They are, Edmund,” Sir Crispin replied. “We have rooms with fireplaces and braziers, or so the landlady assured me. She also has hot soup ready. Of course, we had to pay extra for the better rooms.”
