Even now, Lucia was working on a pink garment for Lady Currie because her last encounter with Colly had emphasized one thing—no matter what, Lady Currie would always side with Colly, which meant the old woman had the true power at Meadowbank.
Perhaps that wouldn’t have mattered so much to Lucia before she met Bane, but now that she had hope for her future, she wanted to remain in one piece, waiting for the day when he would come and take her away from all of this.
Ironic how the man had made her less combative.
“Lucia?”
Shaken from her thoughts, Lucia looked up from the sewing in her hands to see Tynan’s mother standing there. When their eyes met, Amy smiled timidly at her.
“Lady Currie wishes tae see ye,” she said. Then she lowered her voice. “I do believe she wants tae leave Meadowbank tonight. I heard her speaking tae Colly.”
Lucia’s brow furrowed. “Leave it?” she repeated. “And go where?”
“The Ludus Caledonia.”
Lucia set down the sewing. “That again,” she said softly. “I’d hoped she’d forgotten about it. I suppose it was a foolish hope, after all.”
Amy nodded as she came into the chamber. “She seems determined tae go back,” she said quietly. “Poor Lucia. Forced to escort the woman tae that horrible place.”
Lucia felt sorry for herself, too, but she caught the pitiful expression on Amy’s face and she smiled, patting the woman on the hand as she stood up. “There is one thing I like about it.”
“What?”
“Colly willna come.”
Both she and Amy chuckled as they left the tiny chamber and headed into the small corridor that would take them into Lady Currie’s large chamber. Lucia still had her sewing in her hand because she wanted to show Lady Currie that she had been working hard like a good servant would.
She didn’t want to give the woman any cause to doubt her, no matter what Colly said.
Lady Currie’s chamber smelled of fresh rushes and smoke as she entered. Servants were spreading the fresh rushes they’d collected all over the floor, giving the air that sharp scent of pine.
In fact, Lady Currie was sitting up in a lovely robe, looking healthier than she had in weeks. When she saw Lucia enter with the pink confection in her hands, she immediately perked up.
“What have you brought me, Lucia?” she demanded. “Hurry, bring it to me!”
Lucia hurried it over to her, completely ignoring Colly, who was standing at a nearby table and mixing something in wine. Lucia presented Lady Currie with the pink silk, and the woman gasped in delight.
“How divine!” she said. “For me?”
Lucia smiled, holding it up so the woman could get the full view of it. “’Tis a surprise, m’lady,” she said. “But I’m nearly finished with it so ye can wear it tonight if ye’d like. It’s a sleeping gown.”
Lady Currie was beside herself with delight. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “But where did you get the fabric?”
Lucia let the woman take it from her so she could inspect it. “When I negotiated with the merchant for the other fabric I bought for ye, I had him include the pink because I knew ye’d like it,” she said. “Are ye pleased, m’lady?”
Lady Currie nodded enthusiastically. “Ever so much,” she said. Then she held it up to Colly. “Did you see, Colly? See what Lucia has made for me.”
Colly had the wine in her hand as she made her way over to Lady Currie. Lucia dared to look at her at that point, seeing that she was eyeing the garment with disdain.
“Ye will catch a chill in it,” she said. “It isna warm enough for ye.”
Lady Currie’s enthusiasm was not dampened. “It will be warm enough,” she said. “It’s so beautiful. That was very thoughtful of you, Lucia. Would you not say so, Colly?”
Colly looked at Lucia with the same contempt she always did. “She’s simply trying tae make up for the terrible things she’s done.”
Lady Currie frowned. “That is not very nice of you, Colly. You must learn to be more forgiving.”
Colly didn’t say anything as she handed the wine to Lady Currie. Lucia watched the old woman, visions of throwing that wine on the pink gown filling her head. But the gown remained unscathed as Lady Currie took the wine and drained half the cup almost immediately.
“Well done, Lucia,” she said. “I am eager to wear the gown tonight after we return from the Ludus Caledonia. I want you to come with me.”
Lucia nodded. “Aye, m’lady.”
“You will wear the amber silk, and I shall wear the glorious Roman costume you made for me.” She turned to Amy, who was standing behind Lucia. “Amy, I want you to do my hair in the Roman fashion. Lots of braids and curls. I want to look like a queen tonight. I am sure those at the Cal are wondering what has become of me.”
The thought of going to the Ludus Caledonia had Lady Currie moving faster than she’d moved in a month. She was calling for a bath and sending her servants into a frenzy. Lucia took the pink gown and headed back to the little sewing room to put the finishing touches on it so Lady Currie could wear it later that night.
All the while, however, a singular thought was rolling through her head.
The Ludus Caledonia.
Lucia realized that she wasn’t entirely resistant to going because thoughts of the place brought about thoughts of Bane. She was quite eager to see if he had, in fact, gone to the Ludus Caledonia. Perhaps he would be there and she would have a chance to see him, to know he was all right. Lady Currie always looked over the new recruits, and if he was there, he was probably among them.
But that also brought another thought to mind.
Lady Currie liked her pick of fine, young men and Bane would stand out in a crowd. He was wildly handsome. If she wanted to purchase Bane’s services, the money would be great. Lucia had never seen a warrior turn down Lady Currie, and she assumed that the men weren’t given any choice.
What if she chose Bane?
The horror of that thought was almost more than she could bear.
Chapter Fourteen
It was a bleak, frosted winter morning that Bane found himself fighting in.
If one could call it fighting. It was fighting like he’d never done in his life.
Repetitive exercises took the instinct out of a battle. Being expected to take a blow and not defend oneself had him frustrated. For the fighting Bane had done his entire life, he’d depended on an innate sense of self-preservation coupled with moves his father had taught him. He could use a short sword and a mace better than most, but all he was given for training at the Ludus Caledonia was a gladius, a small but sturdy wooden sword.
He hated the damned thing.
His forty-three days at “the Cal” had been nothing like he’d expected. He was back to the bearded, unhappy man he’d been during his days in Edinburgh. For the first week, the novicius did nothing but run up and down the hills surrounding the Ludus Caledonia. That had transitioned into running with the gladius and a heavy wooden shield before they were finally taken into the arena to begin training with other training groups.
Bane was in Lor’s troop, and Lor was assisted by a big Englishman named Galan. One of the first exercises Lor and Galan had them do was fighting against a palus, or a post. Bane thought it was all ridiculously stupid, but he went along with it, much to Lor’s amusement. Lor seemed to know exactly what Bane was thinking but he never chastised him. He encouraged him and spoke to him of tactics and blind spots, things Bane already knew about. At least, he knew most of it. There were a few things Lor taught him that he’d never heard of before. Lor may not have chastised him for his know-it-all attitude, but a big brute with piercing blue eyes did.
Axel was his name.
Axel von Rossau was from Saxony and he’d been Clegg’s ianista, or manager, for many years. Axel was tough but fair, at least when he was
feeling particularly benevolent, but Bane’s frustration at the slow pace of the training had him paying more attention to Bane than most of the other recruits.
As Bane found out, that wasn’t a good thing.
On this icy morning, the four novicius troops were in the arena and Bane was coming to wonder why. There weren’t normally more than two troops in the arena at any one time, and as he soon found out, they’d all been gathered for a purpose.
They were going to use what they had learned—against each other.
It was an exercise of sorts, to pit men from different troops against one another to see what they’d learned. Each troop was standing in a corner of the arena, watching the bouts that were going on in the middle. Four, six men at a time went at it. All men were eager fighters, but some were better than others. Rumor had it that there were fights that night and the trainers were looking to see if there were any novicius who might be ready to fight in a preliminary bout.
Then it became Bane’s turn.
But he wasn’t pitted against any novicius. For him, Axel brought out a warrior who had been with the Ludus Caledonia for a few years. The man was a tertiarius, a fighter at the top of the game. These were men who fought for money and prestige, hoping a great lord would offer them a position.
They were ruthless.
Bane didn’t know the man, but he’d seen him around the complex. As Axel called forth the fighters, including Bane, Lor quickly took him aside.
“The man ye’re tae fight against is the one they call the Eagle,” he said. “He’s been part of the fight guild for years, but he’s been at one of Clegg’s other guilds, the Ludus Hadrian. We havena seen him at the Cal until recently.”
Bane glanced at his opponent. “He’s short.”
Lor shook his head. “Dunna let his stature fool ye,” he said. “He’s shorter than ye are, but he packs a punch. Axel is pairing the two of ye because he thinks yer pride will prevent ye from making a truly great fighter.”
Bane looked at him curiously. “What do ye mean?”
“Because ye believe training is beneath ye,” Lor said. “We’ve all seen it. That’s why Axel wants tae pair ye with the Eagle—so he can cut ye down tae size. Underestimating him is the worst thing ye can do. They call him the Eagle for a reason. He’ll come at ye like a bird of prey, and it’ll be over before ye realize what happened. He likes tae use leverage against his opponents, so watch out for him getting too close tae ye. He’ll destroy ye if he can.”
Bane shook his head confidently. “He’ll not destroy me.”
Lor could hear the man’s pride and he wanted to shake him. “Listen tae me,” he said, hazard in his tone. “I had pride when I came tae the Cal, too, and it nearly got me killed. Know when a man is trying tae help ye, Bane. There’s a reason why they call Magnus Stewart ‘the Eagle.’”
Bane simply nodded to appease Lor, but he had no intention of showing any caution in the face of a man who was shorter than he was. Bane was quite tall, about four inches over six feet, and this man was probably three or four inches shorter.
Enough that Bane considered him inferior.
Axel was motioning to him and he moved away from Lor, taking his wooden gladius and his shield with him.
He was going to clip the Eagle’s wings and be done with it.
As Bane approached, he looked over his opponent from head to toe. The man was wearing leather breeches, boots, and nothing more. Absolutely nothing more, and given the icy winter conditions, it was ludicrous. He was quite muscular, however, a fine specimen of male form, but Bane didn’t give that any consideration. So what if he had muscles; Bane had them, too.
And he intended to use them.
So far, the fights that morning had involved groups, but as Bane came to a halt several feet away from his opponent, Axel waved off the other combatants who were gathering to fight. It was clear that this row was going to be a two-man event. He stepped between the pair, motioning them to move closer to one another, which they did so reluctantly.
“Magnus,” he said in his heavy Germanic accent, “meet the Highland Defender. At least, that is what he told us he used to be called. Mayhap you can put that name to the test.”
Magnus grinned, but without humor. “Gladly.”
Bane sensed a distinct challenge and it raised his hackles. “Eagles dunna live very long,” he said, running his finger along the edge of his dull wooden sword. “And they tend to eat the leavings of other animals. They’re scavengers.”
Axel had to bite off a guffaw as he stepped back from the pair. Magnus’s smile turned genuine. “Indeed, they are,” he said. “And they pick the bones of their enemies.”
“Of which, I am sure, they have many.”
“Mayhap they do. But eagles always come out on top. Shall we?”
“At yer pleasure.”
When it became clear that the giant ego was about to go up against the immovable pride, Axel spoke before the battle could commence. “Since these are friendly bouts, no intentionally cutting a man down or drawing blood,” he said pointedly. “Avoid injuring each other if you can. First man who falls to the ground is the loser.”
The words weren’t completely out of Axel’s mouth before Magnus was flying at Bane. Literally. Bane saw legs going up in the air, and he took a powerful kick to the head before he could raise his arms to defend himself.
The lights went out.
* * *
Bane wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been staring at the stone ceiling.
In fact, he wasn’t even sure how he got here.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, realizing he was in the holding area that was next to the arena. It was a massive chamber cut into the side of the hill, and it was where the competitors gathered before the fights, cool caverns that reeked of smoke and sweaty bodies. But the swift motion of sitting up quickly had the world rocking and someone was pulling him back down to the bench he was lying on.
“Lie back,” a woman said. “Ye’ve got a nasty lump on yer head, so lie still.”
Looking up, he saw a beautiful woman with red curls tied at the nape of her neck and skin like cream. She was holding a cold compress against his head.
He blinked.
“What happened?”
The woman lifted the compress and wrung it out in a bowl. “Ye tangled with the Eagle,” she said. “Do ye not remember?”
He thought a moment before realization dawned. “Christ,” he muttered. “I remember…something. What did he do?”
“He kicked ye in the head.”
Bane thought on that for a moment. Then he started to laugh, ironic and embarrassed laughter when he realized he’d been made a fool of. All of that confidence he’d displayed had cost him. A hand went up, feeling the bump on the side of his head.
He’d never felt so stupid in his entire life.
“Lor warned me,” he said. “I suppose I should have listened tae him.”
“Aye, ye should have,” the woman said. “My husband is usually right about such things.”
“Ye’re Lor’s wife?”
“My name is Isabail.”
In all the weeks he’d been here, he’d never met his trainer’s wife. She never came around the men, which was probably wise considering how pretty she was. Bane sighed heavily, wincing when she put the cold compress back on.
“Well,” he said, “’tis a hard lesson learned. I should have paid closer attention.”
“Tae who? My husband or the Eagle?”
“Both.”
Isabail fought off a smile. “If it’s any consolation, Magnus was punished for doing what he did.”
He looked at her curiously. “He was?”
“Aye,” she said. “From what I understand, he dinna wait for Axel tae signal the beginning of the fight. He went off on his own before anyone told him tae and caug
ht ye off guard.”
Bane lay there a moment longer, trying to remember the details of what had happened and being unable to. He remembered listening to the big Saxon speak on the rules of the engagement but nothing after that.
The Eagle had a hard strike.
“How long have I been unconscious?” he asked.
“Not too long,” she replied. “Lor asked me tae tend ye while he’s gone, but he needs tae return soon because I must return tae my bairn.”
“Ye have a child here? At the Cal?”
She nodded. “Niko,” she said. “Has Lor not told ye about his son?”
Bane sat up slowly, politely handing the compress back to Isabail. “Nay,” he said. “We’ve not spoken of much other than having tae do with training, though we did know of each other before all of this.”
“Where?”
“In Edinburgh.”
Isabail nodded but was prevented from replying further when Lor entered the area. When he saw that Bane was sitting up, he made his way over to the man, looking him over. He held up a hand with two fingers raised.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.
“Two,” Bane mumbled. “One for the Eagle’s victory and the other for my stupidity.”
Lor grinned. “At least ye’ve not lost yer humor,” he said. Then he looked to his wife. “Thank ye for tending him, love. I’ll take over.”
Isabail stood up, handing the compress over to her husband. “Next time, warn him that Magnus doesna like tae follow rules, either,” she said. Her gaze moved to Bane. “I hope I dunna see ye again with a bump on yer head.”
“I hope not, either,” Bane said. “And ye have my thanks, Lady Careston.”
As she headed out of the chamber, Lor handed the cold, wet sponge back to Bane. “Keep it on the lump,” he said. “The Eagle kicked ye hard.”
Bane raised the soggy compress to his head. “Go ahead and say it,” he said. “Ye warned me but I dinna listen.”
Highland Defender Page 11
