Flight of the Raven

by Judith Sterling

  ****

  William hardly noticed the complex marriage of noise and efficiency transforming the great hall for the evening’s feast. The army of busy servants seemed insignificant while his whole being honed in on the gentle pressure of Emma’s hand on his arm.

  The kiss had confirmed one truth: the lady was a passionate creature. She might dispute her involvement with Wulfstan, but she couldn’t deny her carnal instincts. The thought that she might’ve tested those instincts on the Saxon swine burned through William’s mind like acid.

  With practiced discipline, he replaced the thought with logic and observation. He was no stranger to sexual pleasure, neither in the giving nor the taking of it. His experience suggested that Emma was innocent of a man’s touch. She and Wulfstan might share an attraction, but William doubted she’d acted upon it.

  Either that or Wulfstan is a blundering idiot, William mused. An inept boy in the art of passion.

  The idea cheered William as he and Emma followed Robert into the keep’s forebuilding. He nearly smiled at the guards flanking the small enclosure, until he recalled his response to the kiss. Emma had inspired in him a need that was unprecedented and disturbing.

  Outside, the sound of horse hooves clopping over the drawbridge underscored a horn’s expectant blare. There was no time to brood now. The brothers of Nihtscua had arrived.

  Emma’s fingers twitched on William’s arm.

  “Are you well, my lady?” he asked.

  Emma took a deep breath. “Very well.”

  William wasn’t convinced, but their guests awaited them. “Come,” he said. With Robert to his right and Emma to his left, he stepped out onto the broad landing above the entrance stairs.

  Below in the sunlit bailey, Aldred the Merciless stared up at the trio with eyes the color of shallow ice. His blond hair and beard created a flaming mane which did nothing to soften the harsh angles of his cheekbones and brow. Clad in crimson, he was a livid, glaring figure. He wore no mail, no sword. Only a scowl that vanished once he realized he was under scrutiny.

  Wulfstan wore blue. He was clean-shaven, and like his brother, he was tall, broad-shouldered, and blond. He too had ice blue eyes, yet his gaze was milder than Aldred’s. To William, they were strangers, but there was no mistaking which man was which.

  As a groom led their horses to the stable, Aldred and Wulfstan crossed the courtyard. At the same time, William, Emma, and Robert descended the wide, stone steps to the bailey floor.

  “Aldred, Wulfstan.” Emma smiled at each in turn. Her voice betrayed nothing of her dislike for the elder brother.

  She is grace personified, William thought.

  “My lady,” Aldred said curtly.

  Wulfstan regarded her with a warm gaze. “Emma.”

  William’s eyes narrowed. He noticed a thick, horizontal scar above Wulfstan’s left eye, and the imperfection pleased him.

  “My bridegroom, Sir William,” Emma continued smoothly, “and his brother, Sir Robert.”

  A quick succession of bowed heads and hooded glances followed the introduction.

  Aldred’s icy gaze stabbed William with its intensity. “We meet at last.”

  William’s black eyes gave as good as they got. “’Tis our pleasure to welcome you and your brother on this momentous occasion,” he said.

  Aldred didn’t blink. “Most everything you do is momentous. And though Ravenwood has always welcomed us, I thank you for the sentiment.”

  Had William worn his sword, he might’ve drawn it. “Sentiment plays no part here,” he said tightly.

  “All that matters is your comfort,” Emma added in an obvious attempt to save the situation.

  Wulfstan joined in her effort. “Gracious as always,” he said, smiling. “It’s been too long, Emma.”

  “It has indeed,” she replied. “How fares your sister?”

  “Well enough,” Wulfstan answered.

  “Little Freya must be nigh eight by now,” she said.

  “Nine.”

  “And prettier every day, I imagine.”

  Wulfstan grinned. “She may even outshine you one day.”

  Emma laughed, and the sound resembled that of a perfectly tuned bell. “That shouldn’t be difficult!”

  William observed the exchange with growing impatience. Their bond was both visible and vexing.

  “Still modest, I see,” Aldred cut in.

  Emma stiffened. “You flatter me.”

  “Hardly,” said Aldred. His cold gaze raked over her body.

  Fury seared William’s nerves. But he felt Robert’s eyes on him, willing him to check his temper.

  William spoke calmly, distinctly. “We offer our hospitality during your brief stay. See that you don’t abuse it.”

  Aldred looked smug. “You would teach manners to me?”

  “If need be,” said William.

  Wulfstan glanced at his brother. “There will be no need.”

  “Oh, I think ‘the Storm’ and I could learn a great deal from one another,” Aldred said.

  Robert spoke up. “What marvelous counsel could you give my brother?”

  Aldred grinned. “You’d be surprised.”

  Robert clenched his fists. “I don’t like surprises.”

  Aldred shrugged. “Pity.”

  “Welladay,” Emma said quickly, “I’m sure you both want to get settled. John has made all of the arrangements. Shall we go find him?”

  “Aye,” said Wulfstan.

  Aldred said nothing.

  Emma looked up at William, and a silent plea ruled her features. “You needn’t trouble yourself over these matters,” she said. “I’ll take our guests inside.”

  William nearly objected, but he saw the wisdom in it. A cooling-off period would benefit them all. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Emma’s shoulders relaxed as she turned back to their guests. “If you’ll accompany me.”

  Aldred and Wulfstan followed her up the steps. William watched their retreating forms, then turned to his brother.

  “God’s teeth!” Robert said under his breath.

  “Quite,” said William.

  “You did well to control yourself.”

  “As did you, Robert.”

  “I must say I share the lady’s preference for the younger brother.”

  William frowned. “’Tis difficult to choose between serpent and dragon.”

  “And how did Lady Emma defend her dragon?”

  “With denials.”

  “Geoffrey heard her.”

  “She claims the plan was Gertrude’s idea and that she rejected it.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I believe a dragon has many scales.”

  Robert nodded. “We should keep an eye on him.”

  William stared at the archway through which the three Saxons disappeared. “We’ll keep our eyes on them all.”

  Chapter Six

  Seated at the high table in the great hall, Emma groaned inwardly. Supper was usually a modest, light repast, a chance to unwind after a busy day. Tonight was quite the opposite. Two feasts had been planned: the first, this evening, to honor their guests; then another, grander banquet to follow the wedding ceremony tomorrow. All of Ravenwood was welcome, from within the keep and without, and she found some comfort watching the familiar faces delight over numerous courses of costly, spiced foods. But while those at the lower tables reveled in rare delicacies and swayed to the lively music drifting down from the minstrel’s gallery, the high table was grim.

  The entire evening had seemed a silent battle between two pairs of brothers, Saxon and Norman. A ridiculous contest of surreptitious glances and warning glares. Caught in the middle, Emma felt like a prize pigeon.

  Luckily, Gertrude had occupied Aldred for most of the meal. Now, he stood abruptly and left the hall. He should’ve taken his leave of both Emma and William, but Aldred rarely succumbed to the rules of polite society.

  God be praised, Emma thought. She was in no mood to play the h
ostess for him.

  “Good riddance,” William muttered beside her.

  Emma didn’t know if he’d meant her to hear the comment, but she couldn’t help agreeing. “Too right,” she said.

  He turned his black eyes on her as a cupbearer refilled his goblet with warm, mulled wine. “Do I detect a note of displeasure?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “If I weren’t a lady, you’d hear a screech of disgust.”

  His lips twitched as he poised his bejeweled dagger above a platter of roast mutton. “Shall I cut you more meat?”

  “Only if I may then borrow your dagger for a more sinister deed.”

  He chuckled. “And I thought you welcomed our guests.”

  “One maybe.”

  All warmth fled from his eyes as they focused on the sole Saxon male remaining at table. She followed his stare. Gertrude now showered her attention on Wulfstan.

  Emma took a deep breath. “Sir William,” she said in a voice louder than she’d intended.

  His gaze reclaimed hers.

  “I spoke true this afternoon,” she said.

  William studied her in silence. His razor-sharp focus sucked unwelcome heat into her cheeks.

  “Then why do you blush?” he asked.

  “Because you’re eyeing me as a cat would a cornered mouse.”

  “Are you cornered, my lady?”

  “’Tis your game. You tell me.”

  “I play no game. My intentions are plain, and the king approves them. ’Tis you who have plotted and schemed since my arrival.”

  “Do you truly believe I have naught better to do than conspire against you?”

  “How can I believe otherwise?”

  “A tiny thing called trust.”

  “My trust isn’t given freely. It must be earned.”

  She glared at him. “At what cost?”

  Suddenly, Gertrude was beside her. “You’re needed in the kennel.” Her voice held a note of urgency.

  Emma looked up at her. “What is it?”

  “Thomas just informed me that one of the greyhounds was injured in the hunt,” Gertrude explained. “They’ve tried to mend its leg, but the poor thing is in terrible pain.”

  Emma’s stomach heaved. She’d been so rapt in her argument with William, she’d not even seen the huntsman’s apprentice. She stood up. “I must help.”

  William regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I’ll send Robert with you.”

  Emma turned toward Robert. He and Wulfstan were engaged in an animated discussion. Although neither man smiled, they were communicating. She wouldn’t jeopardize the small miracle.

  “Let him enjoy the feast,” she said. “I’ll work fast and return anon.”

  William hesitated, then gave her a nod. “We’ll wait for you.”

  “Thank you. And Gertrude, you needn’t leave the hall either.”

  Emma hurried along the dais, down the steps, and out of the hall, leaving the cacophony of laughter, toasts, and soaring flutes behind her. Then she flew to the bailey. Shivering without her mantle, she scurried across the courtyard to the long, wooden façade of the kennel. She threw open the door and rushed inside.

  All was still. She glanced around the dimly lit interior. The castle dogs stirred in the fresh straw and watched her with tails wagging.

  Behind her, the kennel door creaked shut. Slowly, she turned.

  Aldred blocked the door. The rush-lighting flickered, conjuring strange, inhuman shadows which slithered along the peaks and hollows of his face.

  “Alone at last,” he hummed.

  A slight quiver ran through her. “Where’s Thomas? Where’s—”

  “There’s no one here but us,” he said, leering at her. “Everyone is feasting and belching away in the hall.”

  The truth dawned, and she gritted her teeth. “There is no wounded greyhound.”

  “Smart girl. Don’t be angry with Gertrude. She only wanted to help.”

  Right, Emma thought. All she’s done is help since this nightmare began.

  Aloud, she said, “I suppose you think you’re clever, luring me here with lies.”

  “Whatever works, my dear.”

  “I am not your dear.”

  “A minor point. Especially when it can be rectified so easily.”

  “By the saints! Is that what this is about?”

  “The saints have no say in the matter. Nor has Sir William. If you want freedom from his Norman vise, all you need do is ask.”

  “And exchange one vise for another? I think not.”

  “That’s your problem. You don’t think. You’re ready to hand over Saxon land on a golden plate! If your father were alive—”

  “He’d be nursing his eternal hatred for the invaders and supporting another Saxon uprising or Scottish plot.”

  “He was a great man!”

  “He was a menace. And he’s dead, Aldred. I follow the king’s desires now.”

  “Desires? What do you know of those?”

  She frowned. “Speak plainly.”

  His eyes blazed. “You’ll spread your legs in a Norman bed while your black knight sows his rotten seed. And you’ll scream and weep and wish you’d accepted me instead.”

  She stepped backward. “You’re mad.”

  “Not so,” he spat. “I’m the only one who can satisfy you. I know your desires, even if you don’t.”

  “Do not think to pollute my desires with the likes of yours.”

  “Oh, you’ve no idea, witch. There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, and I can teach it to you.”

  She gagged. Some of the hounds began to growl.

  “Think of it, Emma. The Norman’s head on a spike. Me as master of Ravenwood. And you tied to our bed, shrieking with the ecstasy found only on the other side of torture.”

  She curled her fingers into tight fists. “Get out of my sight,” she ordered.

  A gurgling sound that approximated laughter erupted from his throat. “Are you threatening me?”

  “With every drop of strength I possess.”

  “And how much is that? Shall we test it and see?”

  The kennel now seethed with growls and bared teeth as an army of hounds smelled conflict.

  Emma lifted her chin. “If you persist in this vein, I’ll tell my bridegroom of your proposals. Then we’ll see what kind of test he can devise.”

  Aldred’s smirk became a scowl. “Very well,” he said, “but you’ll regret this.”

  “My only regret is that I’ve allowed you to defile my wedding.”

  “By what means? My superior claim to your hand?”

  “No, by your mere attendance.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So Ravenwood’s kennel boasts a new bitch.”

  Emma pointed to the door, then injected her voice with as much poison as she could rouse. “Out!”

  ****

  William soundlessly melded with the shadows of the east tower. Alert for any hint of movement, his gaze combed the length of the kennel from a distance of twenty yards. He’d left Robert in the hall, ordering him with a glance to keep an eye on Wulfstan. Robert wouldn’t disappoint. He’d cling to the Saxon’s movements like a second skin.

  Shrouded in darkness and inured to the cold, William waited. The black sky was pitted with stars that glittered like the pieces of an unsolvable puzzle.

  Emma seemed genuinely concerned when summoned to the kennel. Yet Geoffrey had overheard her plotting to escape. Tonight. Aldred left the hall just minutes before she did. There had to be a connection.

  The kennel door swung open. Aldred stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Grumbling to himself like a seasoned curmudgeon, he stomped toward the keep.

  William waited until Aldred disappeared around the corner. Then he made his move. Silently, he crept to the kennel door and listened. There was only a slight rustle of straw within, so he opened the door.

  “Are you deaf?” Emma said. “I told you to leave.”

  Seated on the kennel floor, she stared at
the small, black spaniel cradled in her lap. The soft light caressed her stormy features like a silent prayer. For peace? That would be found only on the other side of their wedding.

  He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Did you, now?”

  Emma looked up with wide, beautiful eyes. “Sir William! I thought you were—”

  “Aldred,” he finished. “I give you leave to rejoice.”

  “Rejoice?”

  “That ’tis I in his stead.”

  Her smile was cautious. “’Tis an improvement, I admit.”

  He scanned the kennel. “Where’s the wounded greyhound?”

  “There is none.”

  “I guessed as much.”

  She made a face. “I wish I had. Perhaps I’m too willing to trust. But I came hither because I cannot bear the thought of others in pain.”

  “If that’s a flaw, ’tis a noble one.”

  She beamed at him, and the act seemed to brighten the entire building. “Was that a compliment?”

  He grinned. “Aye.”

  “’Twas well worth the wait, if I may say so.”

  “You may.”

  “And may I also ask you to sit down? Your height is a definite asset, but my neck is beginning to ache.”

  He couldn’t help but smile as he squatted and settled on the ground across from her. “Better?”

  “Much,” she said. “You could certainly give Aldred a lesson in manners.”

  William snapped a piece of straw between his fingers. “Did he insult you again?”

  “Only with words.”

  “Threats?”

  “Empty ones.”

  “His reputation was built on deeds, not words.”

  “True, but everyone is against him. You, your brother, the king. Even Wulfstan.”

  His handful of straw died with a loud crunch. “You assume a lot. Or has Wulfstan told you this?”

  “He doesn’t need to. His relationship with Aldred has always been strained.”

  “I see.”

  “I hope you do,” she said pointedly. “Wulfstan isn’t your enemy.”

  “How do you know?”

  She heaved a sigh. “I feel it.”

  He threw the crushed straw onto the floor. “Does Wulfstan always inspire such feeling in you?”

  “What if he does?”

  “Answer the question.”