The Amethyst Amulets

by Cillian Burns

"Have you news?"

  The man nodded. “Lord Miles’ new mercenaries are green lads according to Eldred. It is taking more time than the lord thought to train them properly. Eldred believes you will have time to get your own soldiers. He hopes you find some more skilled than Sir Miles’ men."

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes. Mayhap Miles’ coffers might be growing light. Would he attack Barstow Castle with untrained troops, or was Eldred right? Nicholas rose and placed the records on a shelf. No more time remained to work on them.

  "Send Will to me, Leonard.” His squire could deal with the boxes and chests they would need to take to court. Also, Will could confer with Julie about clothes. Nicholas would not allow himself to be distracted by her again today. Tomorrow at sunrise, he, Will and Leonard would leave for London, three days journey from Barstow. Away from Julie, his mind would settle into its usual rational pursuits—at least he hoped it would. The promise of restored order in his life should have pleased him greatly, but somehow it did not.

  The dawn had just brushed the sky with strokes of rose and gold when Nicholas mounted Archangel. Julie stood silently by, watching Will supervise loading of the baggage on the backs of several pack horses. She glanced at Nicholas, but he was watching Will and the men.

  "If you do not hurry, Will, the sun will set before we are ready."

  "Aye, my lord.” His squire shouted at the servants to move their asses, eliciting a smile from Nicholas.

  As the boy leaped onto his horse, Nicholas dropped his gaze to Julie. “You will remember what we discussed last even?"

  She nodded. “I'll remember.” Remembering wasn't a promise to obey. The women needed more practice with both their karate and the bows and arrows—occupations, both of which Nicholas would disapprove, if he knew of them. He'd mentioned plumbing. What she knew about that would fit in a thimble.

  Sir Edgar stepped between them. “My lord, it is important you procure seasoned warriors.” His voice held a note of warning.

  "I will do my best."

  Edgar smiled. “Your best is more than good enough."

  "Let us hope so. Keep a good watch."

  "Do not fear. The castle will be held in a state of readiness, night and day. If Sir Miles comes, we will be prepared."

  Nicholas leaned down and clapped Edgar on the shoulder. “I put my faith in you, old friend, and always have. No one else could protect my demesne as well as you."

  "I will do my best. Godspeed, my lord."

  Once again, Nicholas swung his gaze to Julie. “Fare thee well, wife. Keep out of trouble during my absence.” His tone brooked no disobedience.

  "I will. And Nicholas...” She stood on tiptoe and lowered her voice. “All is not well with Henry. The actions of Simon de Montfort, the Earl of Leicester, have him in a great rage."

  Nicholas's dark eyebrow shot up. “How do you know this?"

  "I'm a thirteenth century expert, remember?” She touched his hand where it rested on his mailed thigh. “As seneschal of Gascony, Simon is having much success putting down the rebellion within that area. Henry is jealous and he hates Simon. I fear your strong arm and level head will be sent to keep Simon in line."

  "You, too, have a good head on your shoulders, Julie,” he murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear. “And you are lovely beyond words."

  "Finally a compliment instead of a complaint,” she retorted, but softened it with a smile.

  He grinned. “Also, a worthy adversary from time to time."

  "Just be careful.” How she wanted him to pull her up in front of him and rain kisses on her lips until her head spun. Maybe not with so many watching... In fact, he might never touch her again, spectators or not. His iron will kept his desire in check and his expression gave away nothing. Until she gazed into his eyes. Another story altogether, there. Amber flames smoldered in their depths. With great pleasure, she realized his control came at a price.

  "Farewell, wife.” Nicholas nudged Archangel. He, Will, the two soldiers and the king's men passed through the portcullis over the drawbridge and were soon out of sight.

  Julie stared after them, already feeling the loss of her knight. Because she knew so well what could happen to him, fear clutched at her heart. She told herself to get to work. The busier she was, the faster the time would pass until his return. Since the work in this place never ended, finding something to do would be easy. She should go look for Lady Beatrix and get started.

  Instead, she hurried up on the wall walk. In the distance, the little group of riders passed into the woods and disappeared. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away before they could dampen her cheeks. Nicholas was counting on her to keep things inside the castle running smoothly. She would not let him down.

  Nicholas rode in silence as the miles dropped away. Will seemed to sense his dark mood and refrained from his usual cheerful babbling. Leonard and the other soldier trailing behind them with the pack horses were quiet, too. Bright sunshine, an achingly beautiful blue sky and cheerful birdsong surrounded them.

  Normally, Nicholas enjoyed the freedom of riding his horse through the countryside on such a lovely day. But today he did not. He scarcely saw the landscape or the serfs working the fields along the way. His mind divided itself between Julie and Miles—both worrisome subjects. That Miles might attack while he was gone, concerned him. What Julie might do if this happened troubled him even more. The day wore on, but no solution, short of returning home to keep Julie on a tight rein or ignoring King Henry's summons, came to him. Neither was viable.

  The group stayed in an inn that night and resumed their travel at daybreak the following morn. Nicholas maintained a steady pace that ate up the miles. As evening neared on the second day, he selected another inn and halted the journey not far outside London. He knew even if they rode at a gallop, the gates would be closed. The room he shared with Will lacked any amenities but a bed and a chamber pot. His squire dropped quickly into a deep sleep, snoring loudly, as Nicholas lay there thinking of Julie. He missed her already and wished he could turn back. Damn Henry!

  He hoped Julie was wrong about the king's reason for summoning him. Going to Gascony was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He hoped he could make his obeisance to Henry, find some mercenaries, do whatever was needed, as swiftly as possible, and hurry home. In that order. Henry's intrusion into Nicholas's affairs made him grind his teeth. No need to speculate further. Tomorrow would be soon enough to learn of Henry's wishes.

  Shoving the king to the back of his mind, he turned his thoughts to Julie. He saw her as she had looked yester morn, her amethyst eyes wide with concern, staring up at him and bidding caution. She had not taken time to do up her hair and it curled around her face and down her back in a profusion of golden waves. He had used every ounce of self control to keep from leaping off Archangel, with no thought to their audience, and plunging his fingers through the spun gold of her silky hair. The tip of her nose had begged to be kissed and... His body hardened and he groaned. He could only take so much of this. How unwise to think such thoughts while trying to fall asleep.

  Will snorted and turned over, pulling the coverlet off Nicholas. He should have told Will to sleep on the floor. The knight who had made Nicholas his squire at age ten believed only men belonged in a bed, so Nicholas had spent many nights trying to find a comfortable position on cold stone and earthen floors. Then he pictured Julie, warm and sweet, sleeping in a soft bed under the coverlet they shared. Oh, God! Torture. With a great sigh, he forced his mind to contemplate the best place to find some mercenaries—a large number of them—and what price he should pay for a knight, a man-at-arms. Gradually, his eyes closed and sleep found him.

  Julie awakened early and listened for the sound of Nicholas's breathing. Then she remembered. He had gone to London. Sighing, she snuggled down in the center of the bed. Burying her nose in Nicholas's pillow, she inhaled, smelling his distinctive male scent.

  She wondered if she were right about why the king had sent for Nichola
s. When Henry wanted something, the needs of his nobility were unimportant. He would not be denied. And at the moment, Gascony had his attention. Much as she wished it, the king was unlikely to excuse a knight of Nicholas's caliber if his services were required. She hoped Nicholas would not be sent into the fighting in France. True, he was big and strong, a great warrior, but he was also human and could be hurt or killed like anyone else. She shivered and burrowed deeper into Nicholas's pillow, before pulling the coverlet up around her ears.

  Gwyneth tapped on the door and entered.

  "Are you ready to rise, my lady?"

  "I suppose.” Until now, she could look forward to seeing Nicholas at meals and often in the bailey practicing warfare with his men, but today loomed before her long and empty.

  "Will we practice archery this afternoon?” Gwyneth whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone could hear.

  "We will have to enlist someone else to help us, since Will has gone to London with Lord Nicholas.” Although they had tried to hide their self-defense practices, the castle folk had quickly become aware of it.

  Perhaps Robert could be persuaded to help, even though Julie had an uneasy feeling about him. That day when Eleanor had been frightened by Miles’ man, Robert had acted most peculiarly. No, she would not ask Robert the accountant. Instead, right after breakfast, she'd ask Sir Harald, the youngest of the household knights.

  Julie levered herself up on one elbow and reached for the hunk of dry bread she kept on the bedside table. She'd found nibbling a bit of this before rising, as well as not jumping up too fast, relieved her morning nausea.

  "I think, Lady Julianne, we can set up the targets ourselves.” The girl looked hopeful of Julie's approval.

  Julie smiled. “I believe you're right, Gwyneth. It may take two of us to do a task Will did alone, but we can all pitch in."

  Gwyneth returned her smile. “Lady Beatrix says many hands make light work. Of course, she would think that, since she wants all of us to keep busy."

  "When Lord Miles is taken care of, I'll relieve her of much responsibility.” If I'm still here.

  Gwyneth hesitated, then blurted out, “She wonders what you are doing, my lady. She asked me directly yester morn."

  "And what did you say?"

  "That you were gathering herbs for medicine. It was all that came to mind."

  "How clever of you.” Feeling almost normal, Julie slipped down from the bed and waited to see if the nausea returned. It didn't. “I don't think Lady Beatrix would approve of our lessons any more than Nicholas would. So, if the castle gossip doesn't answer her questions, let's keep this our secret, Gwyneth."

  "Aye, my lady. I will say nothing to her about the archery and kick fighting."

  "Good.” Julie slipped into her gown, and Gwyneth fastened the ties. Her surcoat came next. After Gwyneth braided her hair and wrapped it around her head, Julie led the way downstairs for breakfast. She was famished and needed energy if she were to spend the day shooting arrows as well as instructing the young ladies and maids in kicking and throwing men.

  Nicholas entered the audience chamber and made his bow to Henry. The king, seated on his throne, glanced up from what he was reading and scowled.

  "You have been overlong in obeying our command, Nicholas.” He dropped the letter on the floor and stared down his nose at his favorite knight.

  "I came directly after being informed of your wishes, sire.” The only way he could have arrived any quicker was with one of those flying machines he'd seen in the future.

  "Do not try me as does Simon de Montfort.” Henry rose and stood on the dais, looking down on Nicholas, a petulant expression on his face.

  "What has the earl done now, sire?"

  "He is sorely harassing the Gascons, Nicholas. His measures are harsh, too harsh. Even though the rebels deserve hanging, he seems to dispatch whole hordes of them each time. At this rate, there will be no people left to tax."

  Puzzled, Nicholas asked, “Does he not confiscate their belongings for the crown?"

  Henry waved his hand in dismissal of that idea. “Who knows? He is acting as though he were a law unto himself."

  Nicholas realized Henry was jealous of de Montfort's success at putting down the rebels, so he merely nodded and murmured, “Aye, sire."

  Henry stopped complaining about de Montfort and leveled his gaze at Nicholas. “What I want you to do is go to Gascony and see if you can talk some sense into Simon. You have always had a level head on your shoulders."

  Nicholas was aghast. “I, your majesty? You want me to tell an earl how to comport himself?"

  "Not exactly. You will bear my messages. Simon has always liked you. Mayhap if you both discuss what measures should be taken against the rebels, you can subtly convince him to...” Henry waved his hands again, probably not really certain just what he thought Nicholas should say to change the mind of the stubborn de Montfort.

  Nicholas sighed to himself, but said, “I understand now, sire. You wish me to be your envoy."

  Henry nodded. “If you can accomplish this, there is an earldom awaiting you."

  "Your majesty is too gracious.” He noticed the king was frowning.

  "Nay, I cannot bestow your title after you talk to de Montfort,” Henry said, pursing his lips into a tight little circle. “You will need the title to negotiate on an equal basis with him. So, you will receive it now. In return, you must promise me to succeed in your errand."

  "I will do my utmost to follow your wishes, your majesty.” It wasn't so much the title itself—he had never sought or expected such an honor—but the promise of extra revenue lured him. Overflowing coffers would allow him to purchase more of the experienced mercenaries he needed in the coming fight with Miles. This, however, he would not mention to Henry. The king disliked his barons fighting among themselves—unless it kept them from conspiring against him.

  "I will order the proper paperwork done,” the king said, looking him straight in the eye. “You will be known hereafter as the Earl of Barstow. There are also some properties involved including the demesne and a castle at Stanford. And a little extra revenue—after my share, of course.” Suddenly, he scowled, stepped down from the dais and began to pace up and down.

  "I am not sure...” He halted in front of Nicholas and glared. “You will swear on your hope of heaven you will not conspire against me with de Montfort."

  Although he had little hope of heaven after the way he had treated Julie, Nicholas said quickly, “I do so swear, your majesty.” Jesu! Sometimes this man acted as though birds flew around in his brain.

  Henry's scowl turned suddenly into a smile. “My boy, I called your father friend. He was a fine man who raised an outstanding son. Because of him, I asked you to join my royal service after you were knighted. In the years since then, you have more than equaled my expectations. Do not fail me in this.” Nicholas read the threat between the lines of this speech.

  "I thank you, sire, for the honor you are bestowing on me today. I will try to be worthy of your great trust in me. When do I leave?"

  "You will wish to settle your affairs before taking ship. Day after tomorrow will be soon enough."

  Bloody Hell! If he defied the king, he could be imprisoned or worse. He had no choice. He must go to Gascony. That would give him little time to find the soldiers he sought, but he let nothing of his dismay show on his face. Thanking the king once more, Nicholas backed out of the audience chamber and grabbed Will who was lounging against the wall outside the door.

  "Come. We have much to do.” He towed the boy along in his wake. Every minute would count from now until Thursday. Since he would not have time to return home, he must write to Julie and explain. Detailed directions should be sent to Sir Edgar. He must pay and instruct the men he hired and send them with Leonard to Barstow. Being the object of the king's attention turned one's life upside down.

  He sprang onto Archangel and headed for an inn that mercenaries were said to frequent. Even Henry's problems co
uld not come before his. He wished he could take these men to Barstow himself, but he would have to trust Leonard to get them there, and Sir Edgar to defend his castle from Miles Norville.

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  Chapter 17

  Julie awoke to a clamor beneath her window. Reluctant to leave the comfort of her bed, but curious to know what was going on, she got up and hurried to the window. Dawn had not yet broken, but many torches burned in the bailey which was filled with men-at-arms. Archers lined the walls, crossbows in hand and Sir Edgar, attended by the rest of the household knights, stood in the center of the bailey giving orders to the guards. Could Miles and his men have arrived already? He must have heard Nicholas had been summoned by the king, and decided to take advantage of his absence.

  Julie leaned farther out the window for a better view. She saw Sir Edgar conferring with his knights. Would he send Barstow's small but well-trained army out to fight Miles’ superior but green forces? She hoped not. Barstow's army was half the size of Miles Norville's according to Nicholas's spy. The odds would not favor them.

  She called for Gwyneth, who arrived rubbing her eyes, but eager to find out what was happening. She helped Julie dress in the leggings and tunic she wore for karate practice. Although she owned no chain mail, she had acquired a boy's padded gambeson to protect her chest and back. Oh, how she wished Nicholas were here. She had great respect for Sir Edgar, the warrior steward who had impressed her every time she watched him practice with the knights. But unfortunately, most of the other knights, including Sir Harald, who had been Nicholas's squire before he was knighted, were younger than and not as experienced as Edgar and Nicholas. If a battle were to be fought, Nicholas's superior knowledge and fighting ability would be needed.

  Her dressing completed, Julie ran down the stairs and out the front door. In the upper bailey, women and children from Barstow Village clustered in little groups near the stairs. Some were stricken by a trembling silence, while others wailed the loss of home and family members. Julie stopped and spoke to a young woman who sold eggs to the castle.