Lords of the Kingdom

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Hope watched Faith step outside, a small bucket in hand, and return with it partially filled with water. She poured it into the black metal pot that hung from a pole in the fireplace and swung it over the flames. Then she plucked dried leaves off bunches of herbs on the drying rack, dropped them into a wooden bowl on the table in the center of the room and set to crushing them. When she finished she dropped them into the pot of water.

  “Sit, Harold, you are exhausted.”

  Hope did not argue. Her exhaustion had caught up with her all at once. She simply wished to sleep as long as she could. A yawn and droopy eyes attested to that fact.

  Faith pulled out a chair from the table.

  Hope sat resting with her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table.

  “I think you are too tired for me to poke at your ribs. I will help you clean up your face and hands and see that you are tucked into bed. Tomorrow is soon enough for me to examine your wound. And besides, the healing of bruised ribs must take place in its own good time.”

  Hope listened to her chatter. She was too tired to respond, though relieved that her secret remained safe.

  Faith poured the warm water mixture into a bowl and soaked a cloth in it. She rinsed the cloth and began gently to cleanse Hope’s face.

  Hope closed her tired eyes, the warm wet cloth on her dirty face feeling incredibly soothing.

  “Your journey was a long one.”

  A soft sigh was Hope’s reply.

  “It was more difficult than you had thought.”

  Another stronger sigh followed.

  “Sometimes we think ourselves stronger than we are and discover ourselves stronger than we thought possible.”

  Hope was lost to the gentle strokes of the warm cloth running over her face and around her neck, and she answered without thought. “Aye, that is true enough. I have discovered strengths I did not know I possessed.”

  “But strengths needed for such a perilous journey.”

  “Aye, more perilous than I had thought.”

  “But one you knew you must take. One that was necessary to you,” Faith said softly.

  “Aye, necessary,” Hope said, her closed eyes having grown too heavy to remain open.

  Faith’s gentle voice lulled like a soft melody. “And have you found what you searched for?”

  Hope instantly thought of Colin, his charming smile, his caring nature, his kindred spirit, and her answer came easily. “Aye, I have found it.” She fought back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill from her eyes, though her quivering voice betrayed her heartfelt emotions. “But what good is the discovery when it cannot be mine?”

  Faith did not respond; she remained silent, her thoughts her own as she continued to administer to Hope’s needs.

  Colin continued his endless diatribe and his endless pacing in front of the large stone fireplace in Eric’s solar. “He possesses tremendous courage.”

  Eric and Borg occupied the two chairs before the hearth, a tankard of ale in each of their hands and their heads following Colin’s pacing.

  “But he is stubborn to a fault and does not always pick his battles wisely, though I feel with proper training he could make a fine warrior one day.” He paused briefly, rubbed his chin and continued his pacing. “Of course he will need to add weight to his frail frame, but that should be easy now that he is remaining here at Shanekill.”

  He paused again.

  Eric and Borg waited in patient silence, knowing he would continue.

  “I will start the lad’s training as soon as Lady Faith agrees that he is well enough for strenuous labor. If she feels he needs time, his lessons can always wait since he will be staying permanently at Shanekill.”

  Another short pause.

  Eric and Borg grinned at one another.

  “He has a way of speaking his mind and his remarks and observations are most intelligent for one his age. I wondered if perhaps he had some bit of tutoring. That was another thought of mine, to have the lad receive some formal education. His wit is too sharp to simply ignore. It should be nourished. And with him making his home here at Shanekill there would be time for lessons.”

  Eric finally interrupted. “So, Colin, do you think the lad should remain here at Shanekill?”

  Borg hid his laugh behind the tankard of ale that he purposely raised to his lips.

  Colin looked as though the remark startled him. “I thought that decision was already made. Of course the lad will remain here at Shanekill.”

  Eric’s grin faded to a concerned smile. “You have a protective spot in your heart for this lad.”

  Colin was about to disagree when he stopped to give it thought. The lad had somehow become important to him. He could not quite understand why, though his tenacious spirit had something to do with it. He was determined to live life his way and damned if he did not possess the courage and strength to do it.

  Life had not been fair to him, but he did not complain or cry in his cups. He did what needed doing as only a man of true character could, and even though young and frail in body he survived and continued to do so. He was on his own with no one to help him.

  Colin understood that feeling of having no one.

  He answered Eric. “He needs a friend.”

  “He seems to have found one, and a good one at that.” He leaned forward in his seat, his hand firm on his knee and his smile wide. “And now that we have listened to your endless tirade on the lad, and established that he will be remaining permanently at Shanekill, do you think we could speak of the reason for your mission?”

  “Hope,” Colin said with a shake of his head. “I cannot for the life of me understand how she eluded us or continues to do so.”

  “You do not think she may have met with foul play?” Borg asked. “She is, after all, a mere woman on her own and from what we have been told a small one at that.”

  “True enough,” Colin agreed. “But after speaking with the abbess at Croom Abbey I learned that what she lacks in size she certainly makes up for in determination.”

  Eric nodded in agreement. “Shamus mentioned her propensity for doing as she pleased.”

  “Sounds as though she is a spoiled one,” Borg said.

  Colin looked to Borg. “I thought the same myself at first, but I have wondered of late if there was something else that drove her to leave.”

  “Why do you say leave, not run away?” Eric asked.

  “I do not know why but I feel that her intentions were to take her leave for a time and then return.”

  “A taste of freedom before wedding a stranger?” Eric asked, rubbing his jaw and giving the idea thought.

  “A possibility,” Colin agreed. “Her determination gives her an adventurous spirit and perhaps she felt compelled to—”

  “Have an adventure?” Borg suggested, incredulous. “Everyone is worried about this pint-sized woman and she is off on an adventure? You cannot be serious.”

  “I think he is,” Eric said. “And I believe he may be correct in his assumption. Considering her spirited nature, it would be a sensible conclusion.”

  “But do you really think it possible for a woman to survive on her own this long?” Borg asked.

  “A bold woman might,” Eric suggested.

  “And we have determined she is just that—bold,” Colin concluded.

  “Or very foolish,” Borg said.

  “Our next step then, Colin?” Eric asked and clarified when Colin looked questioningly at him. “You seem to understand this woman, so tell me what you think her intentions are from this point on.”

  “I have been giving it thought and while there is always a chance she has been harmed or has possibly met with foul play, I do not believe that either is the case. Somehow she has found a way to keep herself hidden away from those who search for her.”

  “Any thought on how she has managed that?” Eric asked.

  Borg answered. “She could have met up with a family who was in need of coins and she paid them a handsome am
ount to keep her identity secret while sharing their home.”

  “Another possibility,” Colin said, “though I do not think such a situation would give her the freedom she had intended. Nay, I think she prefers to keep on the move.”

  “And do what?” Eric asked.

  The answer came easily for Colin. “Discover.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Colin searched the keep for Harold. It was a senseless search; he had told himself that when he first began. He knew where he could find him. Ever since their return to Shanekill a few days ago Harold could be found in the same location.

  He was at the healing cottage helping Faith, and of course sleeping there. How the place had become the lad’s home escaped Colin. It seemed his first night at the keep, and every subsequent night, had been spent there, and it did not seem that he planned to vacate the place anytime soon.

  Colin, however, had different ideas. It was time the lad began more manly chores and left the healing to the women. And while his ribs might not be sufficiently healed to participate in the daily practice of combat skills, he could at least watch and learn.

  Today he intended to see that Harold began to do as he directed. It was, after all, for the lad’s own good.

  He marched out of the keep and directly to Faith’s healing cottage. His usual charming smile that warmed the ladies’ hearts was gone, replaced by a look that warned everyone to clear out of his way. It was a look he seldom wore, but one that was instantly obeyed.

  Colin rounded the corner of the cottage to find Harold leaning over the large rain barrel with a bucket in hand. He grabbed the lad by the back of his shirt, startling him and causing him to drop the bucket, splashing the water over them both.

  The commotion brought Faith to the cottage door.

  “Look what you did,” Hope accused, wiping the water off the clean dark red tunic Faith had given her only two days before. It had been a relief to change out of the dirty garments she had worn since the beginning of her journey and a pleasure to have washed herself from head to toe one night when alone in the cottage.

  “What I have done?” Colin asked with a shocked expression and a swipe of his hand over his face where the water had splashed him. “You have other duties and responsibilities. I have come to make certain you see to them.”

  “I do not think Harold’s wound is sufficiently healed enough to partake in any strenuous duties,” Faith said.

  Her remark made Hope suspicious. Her ribs had healed nicely and Faith had even commented on her fine condition just yesterday. So why today did she think otherwise?

  “I will see that he takes care, but he should at least learn what will be expected of him when he faces an opponent.”

  Faith looked about to protest when she suddenly asked, “He will but watch?”

  “My word, my lady,” Colin said and executed a courtly bow followed by a dashing smile.

  She laughed. “You are a rogue.”

  It was that rogue manner that had caused Hope to purposely avoid Colin the last few days. Since the first night of their return she had watched him work his charm on many women, and she had watched many a woman invite him with a smile or a sway of her hips. Some were audacious enough to approach him openly with their intentions.

  And while he was cordial to them all, he did not accept every invitation, though he turned down few.

  “You know me well, my lady,” Colin said with a wink.

  “I know all my friends well,” Faith replied. “Do I not, Harold?”

  Hope wondered if Faith did not know Harold better than anyone. The feeling that she knew the truth about her had haunted Hope’s thoughts for the last few days.

  Hope nodded slowly as only a lad can do when not sure of his reply.

  Faith looked to Colin. “You promise me he will do no more than watch the men practice?”

  “I promise.” He crossed his heart as he answered.

  “Then take Harold with you, but …” She warned with a pointing finger. “You will return him to me right afterwards. I have chores I need help with.”

  Colin grew concerned. “If you require his help, my lady, I will leave him at your disposal.”

  “Nay,” she insisted, “and besides, I think a change of pace will suit the lad. He must grow tired of spending so much time with me.”

  “Nay,” Hope was quick to respond. “I do not mind helping you.” And she did not. Faith was a wise woman with much knowledge and Hope took pleasure in what she could learn from her.

  Colin slapped Hope on the back, causing her to stumble, and surprisingly received a fast reprimand from Faith. “Be careful, the lad still heals.”

  Hope spoke up like a lad in defense of himself. “I am fine and can take care of myself.”

  “We shall see,” Colin said with grin.

  “Colin, you will keep your promise,” Faith said, her tone sharp.

  “You upset my wife, Colin?”

  The deep, stern voice caused Harold to jump aside, bumping into Colin, who righted him with a firm hand to his thin arm. But then how could one not stumble when the Devil himself was bearing down on him.

  The imposing man went straight for his wife, slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her into his powerful arms. She rested her head on his thick chest and smiled at Colin.

  Faith answered her husband, her eyes on Colin. “I am being demanding, my lord, and Colin is attempting to appease me.”

  “Is that the way of it, lad?” Eric asked, startling Hope.

  Colin laughed, folding his arms over his chest and fixing his glance on Harold.

  The Devil might try to intimidate Harold but he rankled Hope’s temper and it was she who answered, “You doubt your wife’s word, my lord?”

  Colin looked stunned, Faith smiled and Eric was speechless for a brief moment.

  Eric shook his head. “Foolish or brave, I cannot decide which you are.”

  “Finally,” Colin spoke as if relieved. “I am not alone in my thought.”

  Harold shrugged indifferently. “You asked a question and I answered honestly. I do not think that makes me neither foolish nor brave—simply honest.”

  Faith continued to smile, though she gave a brief nod as if confirming a silent thought. And Hope was more concerned over her musings than the Devil himself.

  “I respect your honesty,” Eric said, “therefore, I expect an honest answer to my query.”

  Her stubborn tenacity remained. “And the answer to my question, my lord?”

  Colin shook his head and Faith laughed.

  Eric stared at Hope for a moment, a moment too long for Hope’s comfort. She wondered over his thoughts and grew uncomfortable with the way his dark eyes scrutinized her. Had she gone too far? She was, after all, a mere lad without a trace of noble blood, though it was her noble stubbornness that had gotten her into her present predicament.

  “You require no answer, but I do,” Eric said and waited.

  She had behaved poorly for a lad who had been extended such generosity by the lord of the castle and while her nobility afforded her a certain respect, it did not extend to the lad. She had forgotten her place, forgotten who she was supposed to be, a lad, a mere young lad who knew better than to be disrespectful to a lord and especially to the Irish Devil.

  The lad finally answered. “My lady speaks the truth.”

  Eric nodded. “I had no doubt she did.”

  “Then why ask me?” Hope shook her head, realizing the answer. “You inquired not of your wife’s honesty, but of mine.”

  Eric looked with admiration at the lad. “You have a quick mind; use it wisely.”

  “Come, Harold,” Colin ordered. “You have disturbed Lord Eric long enough.”

  The lad gave a respectful bow of his head to the lord and lady before hurrying after Colin. But Hope paused in her thoughts to wonder if she was now about to face a skirmish of a different kind.

  Eric leaned down and nuzzled his wife’s neck, his large hand splaying across her prot
ruding stomach. “The lad should have been born of nobility—he possesses the arrogance.”

  Faith caressed her husband’s cheek. “Aye, I agree.”

  He turned her around in his arms. “Then tell me what nags at me about the lad. What am I missing?”

  Faith gave her husband a soft kiss. “Think on it. I am certain you will understand soon enough.”

  Eric kissed her back, though his kiss promised passion and she responded with a gentle moan. He scooped her up into his arms, entered the cottage and kicked the door shut with a solid thud.

  Two women passing by giggled and spread the word that Lady Faith would not be seeing ailing villagers for a couple of hours.

  Harold sat on a stump watching the men practice their battle skills. Colin had ordered the lad to pay close attention to their body movements and the way in which they handled their weapons. The lad had no trouble doing so.

  Hope, however, had difficulty keeping her eyes off Colin. His tall, lean frame would make one think him less of an opponent than the men with thick muscles. But his defined muscle structure possessed more strength than some of the more heavily muscled men.

  And she thrilled in watching him skillfully take down an opponent or brandish his sword with the ease and grace of a man born to it.

  Why were her eyes always drawn to him? Why did she always concern herself with him? Why did she care that he smiled at women? Why did her heart flutter when he stepped near her?

  She sighed and slowly shook her head. Could she be falling in love with him? Or was she already in love with him? And why? He knew her only as the lad Harold. And yet she knew him as a caring soul. A man who would befriend a young boy and see that he was looked after and see that he would have a family who cared for him.

  If he worried so about Harold, a lad he barely knew yet befriended, then how would he treat a wife whom he loved with all his heart? The thought haunted her, as did his words.

  Forever mine.

  He wished to love a woman and make her forever his. It was important to him that he find an enduring love, not a passing one or one forced on him, but one that lasted forever. One of his own choosing. One equal to his own courage and strength.