The More I See You

by Lynn Kurland

  “Your words will go no further.”

  Gilbert didn’t look any more comfortable, but he managed to blurt out a heartfelt sentiment or two. “Hate him,” he said. “Bastard.”

  Well, that was not what Hugh had been hoping for, but perhaps that hatred could be put to better uses. He plunged ahead into his scheme.

  “Hate him you might,” Hugh said, lowering his voice so Gilbert had no choice but to lean closer, “but he is the one who can help you in your choice of vocations.”

  Gilbert’s brow furrowed with the effort of unraveling that mystery.

  “Your vocation,” Hugh said patiently. By the saints, not even he was this thick when fully into his cups. It would take more than luck to have Gilbert’s aid. “I understand that you want to be a friar,” he prompted.

  Gilbert blinked in surprise. “Aye.”

  “Why?” Now, here was the way to lead the lad down the proper path . . .

  “I wanna sing,” Gilbert announced suddenly. And then just as suddenly, he burst into song.

  Hugh clapped his hands over his ears but not before he heard a chorus of protests from atop the walls.

  “Silence, ye demon!” one of the guardsmen bellowed.

  “Aye, will ye have all the beasties from hell come down upon us?” shouted another.

  Hugh slapped his hand over Gilbert’s mouth and led him away. He understood now why the lad had not yet found any monastery desperate enough to take him. Gilbert looked crestfallen at the response he’d received, but followed along readily enough. Hugh paused again when they were well out of song-shot of the walls. And he spat over his left shoulder for good measure. The saints only knew what kind of horrors Gilbert had conjured up with that hideous sound.

  “I wanna sing,” Gilbert said humbly. “I love songs.”

  Songs apparently didn’t love Gilbert, but Hugh wasn’t about to discourage the lad. He took a deep breath.

  “Richard will find you a place to sing,” Hugh promised. “But the only way he will do this is if he is freed from the evil inside his gates.”

  Gilbert’s jaw slipped downward and he gaped at Hugh.

  “Evil,” Hugh repeated. “There’s a witch in the keep.”

  Gilbert didn’t look very disturbed by that, so Hugh tried another tack.

  “At least I thought she was a witch,” Hugh amended. “But now I believe her to be a faery. An evil faery.”

  Gilbert’s hand sketched the sign of the cross. His hand was trembling. Hugh felt relief sweep over him. If the boy could be that moved by even the mention of such a creature, he was someone Hugh could understand. Hugh was certain he now had an ally.

  “She must die,” he whispered fervently. “She is but a faery, so there is no sin in it. Indeed, the sin would be allowing her to live.”

  Gilbert started to frown. “But—”

  “She’ll take your voice, Gilbert. Faeries steal voices, or didn’t you know?”

  Apparently not, but the tidings were enough to make Gilbert back up a pace.

  Hugh followed him. “She has stolen your master’s will and she will steal your voice. You must free yourself from her spells.”

  “But . . . how?”

  “She will tempt you to speak to her, then, as you are speaking, she will touch you and steal what you prize the most. You cannot allow this.”

  Gilbert nodded, almost as enthusiastically as Hugh could have hoped for.

  “So,” Hugh said, “you will slay her with your blade.”

  Gilbert swallowed, and not easily, but ’twas done.

  “I saw her come up from the grass, Gilbert, and I’ve seen her bewitch your master. She will look to you next. I’m sure of it.”

  “As you say,” Gilbert whispered.

  “You will also be freeing your master from her vile spells. And if Lord Richard is free, then you will have your desire of entering the priesthood.”

  “And sing,” Gilbert said reverently.

  “And sing,” Hugh assured him. “Now, are you resolved?”

  “Well . . .”

  Hugh put his hand to his own throat meaningfully.

  Gilbert suddenly seemed to have no more spittle for swallowing.

  “Are you resolved?” Hugh pressed on. “You must slay her.”

  Gilbert’s own hand fondled his throat nervously, and he nodded. ’Twas a slight nod, but Hugh wasn’t going to ask for a better.

  “Off with you, then,” Hugh said, gesturing toward the castle.

  Gilbert turned and fled.

  Hugh made his favorite signs for warding off evil, then hied himself off to the abandoned hut he’d found to make his bed. Gilbert would either succeed or he wouldn’t. And if Gilbert didn’t, Hugh would have to.

  He couldn’t last much longer without Richard’s aid and ’twas a surety that the woman had him firmly ensorcelled. She would have to die.

  Hugh’s own future hung in the balance.

  24

  Jessica walked over the floor of the great hall and looked at it critically. The early-morning sunlight didn’t reveal any unevenness, but she suspected she would need a survey crew to really tell. Well, perhaps a survey crew made up of a few people who didn’t have their heads in the clouds—unlike herself. But how could she help it? She was living in a medieval castle and falling in love with a fierce medieval lord. She was permitted to be a little distracted.

  She had decided to stay. She liked to believe it was her choice and not just because she was afraid she would never get back to her time. It was easier to credit Fate with this turn of events. It had to be Fate at the helm. She certainly wouldn’t have planned to find someone to love hundreds of years in the past.

  Her only regret was that her mother would know nothing of it. Two losses in two years was enough to break the spirit of someone much stronger than Margaret Blakely.

  Maybe things would all work out in the end and she would meet up with her mother again in heaven. She would introduce Richard to her parents and assure them that she’d had a very good life. Maybe there was an eternal dinner table somewhere out there in the universe where families gathered and lingered in an old-world kind of way until all the talking and reminiscing had been done to everyone’s satisfaction. Surely if that were the case, whatever pain her mother suffered at present would seem like a small thing, gone in the blink of an eye.

  All this, of course, assumed that Jessica would have something to talk about then and Richard de Galtres to show for it. He hadn’t exactly gone down on bended knee and proposed to her.

  She would have a talk with Fate about that just as soon as she had the time.

  For now, she was grateful Richard had unbent enough to let her into his heart as far as he had. Savoring this would have to be enough.

  Not that she really had the luxury to worry about it. It was growing colder by the day and it was England. She was just waiting for the rains to descend and wash away her level earth. Her workers seemed to have the same sense of urgency. She’d had them going over the floor inch by inch and no one seemed to have found any flaws. Well, if the edges were even, then the walls would be straight and Richard couldn’t ask for more than that.

  She saw the tips of the boots before she ran into the body. She looked up quickly and smiled.

  “I didn’t see you.”

  “Obviously,” Richard said.

  Richard’s mouth was healing. She could have sworn she’d seen him smile the night before, but she might have imagined it. All she knew was that there was a softening around both his eyes and his mouth.

  He cared.

  Yes, that was enough for the present.

  “Doesn’t the floor look good?” she asked.

  “It looks great,” he said.

  “Think it’s level?”

  “It looks level.”

  “You’re very agreeable today.”

  “I am,” he agreed.

  “Don’t you have something to do?”

  “Such as?”

  “Train your men
, feed your horse, polish your sword. Those manly things you medieval guys like to do. And isn’t Kendrick leaving today?”

  “Aye,” he said, “and ’tis a good thing he is. Any more nights of watching him drool on your hand and he would find pieces of himself missing.”

  Jessica smiled serenely. “Tell him good-bye for me.”

  “I’m certain he’ll feel the need to bid you farewell personally,” Richard said darkly.

  “He’s nothing if not polite,” Jessica offered.

  Richard growled, turned, and walked away. Jessica would have laughed for the joy that bubbled up inside her, but it was too tender to put on display. She realized, as she manufactured as stern a look as she could, that she was starting to behave more like Richard all the time. Maybe this was why he kept his emotions to himself. There was something to be said for a little private delight.

  So she turned away, reveled in her own enjoyment of life, and reexamined her floor. There was one way to tell if it was level or not. Blessing her father for passing on his perfect vision, she got down on her belly in the dirt and took a gander down the length of the floor.

  And she shrieked when she was lifted up and set carefully on her feet.

  “Are you hurt?” Richard asked anxiously.

  “I was just checking the floor,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “You scared me to death.”

  “You frightened me to death,” he countered. “Don’t just lie down thusly without warning!”

  “By the saints, Richard” Kendrick said with a laugh from behind Richard, “let the girl be. You’ll smother her with all that mother-henning.”

  Jessica grabbed Richard’s hand before he plowed it into Kendrick’s belly. She didn’t know for sure if that’s what he intended, but she suspected it. His fingers were twitching and she had the feeling it wasn’t from the exhilaration of being captured between hers. Jessica smiled at Kendrick.

  “It was wonderful meeting you,” she said, and she ignored whatever it was Richard had muttered under his breath.

  Kendrick threw Richard a grin before he made off with one of Jessica’s hands and kissed it very sweetly and chastely.

  “Nay, lady, the pleasure of it was mine,” he said. He tucked her hand under his arm and gave Richard a stern look. “Stay here. I’ve need of private speech with your lady.”

  Richard began to scowl.

  “Care-and-fodder instructions only,” Kendrick said calmly. “I’m betrothed, remember?”

  “Ha,” Richard said, folding his arms over his chest.

  Jessica found herself being led a few feet away. Kendrick made a big show of putting his hands behind his back.

  “Prudent,” Jessica noted.

  Kendrick laughed and Jessica had to admit the sight of it was almost enough to make her a little light-headed.

  “I hope you’ll be happy with him,” Kendrick said with a small smile. “He’s powerfully irritating at times.”

  “But you love him.”

  Kendrick shrugged. “He is a true comrade and we have suffered much together. I daresay of anyone, I know the most about him.”

  “I imagine you would.”

  “Likely no one knows more of his past than I,” Kendrick added. “Not that he chose to tell me, of course—”

  “And not that you’re going to choose to tell me either,” Jessica finished.

  He shook his head. “’Tis his right to speak of it. I only ask that you care for him well. I imagine it will be difficult at times, but it would sorely grieve him to lose you.”

  Jessica smiled. “Maybe he’s just afraid his hall will never get built if I don’t do it.”

  “I think ’tis far more than that, lady, though I daresay ’twill take him a bit to realize it.”

  “Any advice?”

  “Woo him,” Kendrick answered. “’Twill embarrass him beyond belief.”

  “And you want a full report after the fact,” Jessica said dryly.

  Kendrick grinned. “Of course. I’ll need something to cheer me after my nuptials.” He took her hand again, bent over it, and then straightened. “Till next we meet, my lady, God’s grace rest upon you.”

  “And upon you, my lord,” she said. She watched him walk back over to Richard, embrace him roughly, and pull him toward the gate. It didn’t sound as if he was all that thrilled about getting married, but maybe not everyone in the Middle Ages was lucky enough to fall in love.

  And that was a very sad thing indeed.

  “I hear—” There was a loud clearing of a throat next to her, then another attempt. “I hear you’ve a mind to woo.”

  Jessica turned to find Sir Hamlet standing next to her wearing a look of barely suppressed excitement.

  “Well,” she began.

  Hamlet clapped his hands and rubbed them together as if he prepared to scale a challenging mountain. Jessica could hardly keep from smiling. His enthusiasm was nothing if not contagious.

  “Then you’ve come to the proper man,” he said. “I’ve a vast selection of ideas, a hefty supply of proper procedures, and an unlimited amount of time to put myself at your disposal.”

  Jessica looked at him with as much seriousness as she could summon. “Don’t you need to do your knightly things?”

  Sir Hamlet waved aside her words. “Do enough of them when I’m giving the lads a rest from their chivalry training,” he answered with a raspy voice that sounded as if he’d been born and raised on whiskey and cigarettes. “And, my lady, there is no more important knightly business than wooing. Queen Eleanor would have agreed.”

  Jessica supposed that any man who sounded like that had probably shouted in enough battles that maybe training every day wasn’t such a big deal.

  “And since you didn’t have the pleasure of learning the art from her as I did, through my sire’s memory of course, I feel ’tis my chivalric duty to aid you in your cause.”

  Jessica wasn’t about to disagree. It might give Hamlet something to do besides teach the garrison to sing. She’d heard them on more than one occasion.

  It wasn’t pretty.

  “That would be very helpful,” she said with a smile. “I’m not really sure how to go about it.”

  And in a certain sense, that was true. There wasn’t a store down the street carrying flowers, candles, and a good selection of just-pop-it-in-the-oven dinners. If anyone would know the way to a medieval man’s heart, it would be Sir Hamlet.

  He made her a low, flourishy bow, and sprang away, apparently dashing off to think about her problem. She suspected he did lots of that kind of thinking because the man sprang a lot. And whenever he did, Richard tended to run the other way.

  Jessica laughed to herself and started to return to her work. She spared a glance toward the gate in time to see Richard shoving Kendrick onto his horse and then giving the horse a good slap on the rump to get it going.

  And then he turned and looked at her. Kendrick’s smile might have left her feeling a little faint; Richard’s scowl almost knocked her flat. He walked over to her and scowled a bit more.

  “Now that he’s gone, we’ll have a bit of peace.”

  “Of course,” she agreed pleasantly.

  “A walk on the battlements,” he announced, snagging her hand and pulling her behind him.

  Jessica didn’t have any intention of arguing.

  He stopped her midway up the steps. Without any explanation, he slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back.

  “My mouth is healed,” he explained just before he bent his head and kissed her.

  And she had no choice but to agree that his mouth was indeed quite healed. She closed her eyes and enjoyed until Richard lifted his head.

  He cleared his throat roughly. “I’m not gentle,” he said, tossing the words away as if they pained him.

  Jessica had no idea where that had come from, but she had the feeling he was comparing himself to Kendrick’s suave ways. She looped her arms around his neck.

  “You are,” she said,
“the most gentle, passionate man I’ve ever met.”

  He didn’t move. “Have you met many?”

  “No. Would it matter if I had?”

  “It would matter only in that I will be dead several hundred years before they are born and I cannot find them and geld them.”

  “You’re very chivalrous.”

  “I’m spoiling you,” he mumbled.

  She tucked his hair behind his ears and smiled at his sudden scowl. He shook his head and she repeated the motion, just to tease him.

  “Then I don’t have to be jealous of all the women who’ve wooed you?” she asked, tickling his ear with her finger.

  “Cease,” he said, pulling his head away. “And I’ve never been wooed. Women turn tail and scamper away when they see me.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You future women are made of stern stock.”

  “Like I said before,” she whispered, “the women of your time are really stupid.”

  He stared down at her solemnly. “Then I do not frighten you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not even a smidgen?”

  She shook her head again, smiling.

  “Then I’m going soft.”

  “You must be,” she agreed. “You kicked Kendrick out of the castle to kiss me and all you’ve done is talk.”

  “My apologies, lady.”

  And with that, he proceeded to kiss her until she was sure if he didn’t let her up, she would just melt away down the stairs.

  He did release her, eventually, when the line of people trying to get past them became too long. Then he gave her one last hard kiss, looked at her smugly, and then made his way down the stairs. Jessica decided that perhaps collapse was the better part of valor, so she turned and climbed up to the little gathering hall. It wasn’t her normal place to go, but she wasn’t sure she would make it all the way to Richard’s bedroom.

  For once the place was entirely empty. Maybe Richard had all the troops out working at once. She sat down at the lone table, rested her elbows on the wood, and propped her chin on her fists. If Richard wasn’t careful, his hall wouldn’t get built and he would have no one to blame but himself. Maybe she could convince him to kiss her only after working hours.

  The door opened suddenly and Jessica tried to pull herself out of her stupor long enough to see who was there. She smiled at Gilbert, Richard’s squire. He was a testy kid, but nobody was perfect. Maybe Richard was right and Gilbert just didn’t want to be made into a knight. It would have been like her trying to turn herself into a corporate climber.