An Uncertain Choice

by Jody Hedlund

  My heartbeat sped forward. “I didn’t think you noticed me in the least.”

  “How could I not?” His voice was low with an intimacy that whispered across my nerves.

  I had to work hard for several seconds to still the thrumming of my heart before I could respond. “I know you don’t lack courage, sir,” I said, offering my own apology. “So if fear wasn’t holding you back, then what was?”

  He didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead he glanced away to the other dancers. “I cannot rightly seek out your attention, my lady, especially when it’s not mine to gain.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Regret pooled in his eyes, a regret that did nothing to ease my inner churning. “I’ve already determined I shall not stand in the way of my friends winning your heart.”

  At his confession, we glided in step to the dance for a few silent moments. But questions clamored through my mind. Why did he feel thus inclined? Why would he acquiesce to his friends so easily?

  “I don’t understand.” I struggled to keep from sounding desperate. “Why would you not want to participate in your master’s plans? Have I done something to offend you? Have you found me wanting?”

  “No, my lady,” he responded rapidly in a harsh whisper. “I beg you not to think there is anything wrong with you.” His grip on my waist tightened, and he drew me imperceptibly closer so that I could almost hear the pounding of his heartbeat. “The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I admire you.” The confession fell from his lips.

  “I know I still have much to learn —​”

  “Yes. We all do,” he said as his dance steps slowed almost to a halt. “But I cannot fault you, though I have tried.”

  “Then what?” I asked too quickly. “What prevents you from seeking my heart?”

  “’Tis me.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. “I’m a poor, landless knight with naught to offer you. I have no wealth, no power, no prestige, and . . .” His voice dropped so that I had to silence my breathing to hear him. “I have no family name and no family honor.”

  His last words were spoken with such loathing that I knew I couldn’t argue with him. Instead I squeezed his tense arm. “Perhaps I have need of none of those things.”

  He shook his head, and I could see from the determination in his eyes that he’d already made up his mind. “My friends are good men. The best in all the land. And they are much more deserving of you than I could ever be.”

  Even as he spoke the words, I could sense Sir Collin watching me from a side table where he stood sipping ale with the duke. I could also sense Sir Bennet’s eyes on me from the opposite side of the room where he’d gone to admire the castle’s artwork, which I’d requested be put on display for the dance.

  They were both fine men. I’d do very well to fall in love with either one of them. But did they have the qualities I most needed in a husband? I wasn’t exactly sure what those qualities were, but I realized that I coveted deeper sharing, honest relating, and common passion for the same causes.

  I hadn’t experienced that yet . . . except perhaps with Derrick.

  I focused on Derrick’s chest, lest he see the truth in my eyes and it scare him away from me even more. What could I do to change his mind, especially when he was already decided against wooing me? Would I need to woo him instead? And if so, how?

  A sudden scream rent the air. The music trailed to a discordant halt, and a woman’s distraught voice cried out, “My husband! He’s been poisoned!”

  Chapter

  14

  I CROUCHED BESIDE THE NOBLEMAN SPRAWLED ON THE floor. A dark stain had formed around the man’s mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head, and each breath was deep and labored.

  The woman who kneeled next to the nobleman wept openly, her cries mingling with the gasps and anxious murmurings of the other guests.

  Lady Rosemarie started to kneel next to me, but I caught the eye of the duke. One look was all it took for the older knight to guide Rosemarie a safe distance away.

  I began to loosen the mantle and shirt of the nobleman, hoping to make the man’s breathing easier. “Tell the cook to bring me a decoction of black hellebore to purge this man’s stomach,” I called to a nearby servant, who immediately ran off to do my bidding.

  “Can he be saved?” Sir Bennet asked, lowering to one knee. His features creased with worry.

  “It depends on how much poison he consumed and how quickly it reaches his blood.” I began to roll up the nobleman’s shirtsleeve, knowing I would need to do the bloodletting myself because the physician wouldn’t be able to arrive in time. I’d done it before on the battlefield and the thought of doing so again didn’t scare me. “Do we know the source of the poison yet?”

  Sir Bennet nodded toward a silver goblet lying on the floor surrounded by a pool of strange-colored ale.

  “The ale was poisoned?” I surveyed the room and the numerous cups of ale that many of the guests were still holding. Cold fear slithered through me. How many more people would suffer?

  “Take away the ale,” I ordered another servant standing nearby. “Dump every last drop into the moat.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sir Bennet said gravely. “I don’t believe anyone else is at risk.”

  But already the guests were abandoning their goblets, their faces drawn with worry.

  Sir Bennet held a goblet in his own hand. He glanced inside to the spicy liquid and then swirled it in a circular motion. When he raised his eyes, they were as dark and murky as the ale. “I have already sipped from this goblet,” he said in a low, almost dazed voice.

  “Are you ill?” I appraised my friend, checking for signs of poisoning.

  “I’m perfectly fine.” Sir Bennet stared at the spilled goblet on the floor nearby. “But it should be me lying on the floor at death’s door.”

  “No one should be lying on the floor.” My keen gaze penetrated the crowd, searching for signs that anyone else was suffering.

  “Yes,” Sir Bennet insisted. “The poison was meant for me.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Sir Bennet stared back and forth between the two goblets again, before his gaze came to rest on the one that had spilled. “That one was mine.” It did indeed have a special crest of small jewels around the base, the same as the other goblets given to those seated at the head table.

  My pulse slowed to a crawl as I tried to make sense of my friend’s words.

  “I was looking at the artwork with Baron York. We set our goblets down together on the table, and when we came back I must have grabbed the wrong one. We were talking. And neither of us were paying much heed.”

  “Then apparently someone put the poison in your cup while your back was turned?”

  Sir Bennet’s normally sun-browned face had turned pale. “It would seem that someone intended to murder me.”

  My nerves were suddenly on edge, my senses on high alert. If someone had intended to murder Sir Bennet, then that person was likely still in the Great Hall. Was it one of the servants mingling among the guests? A disgruntled nobleman? An enemy disguised as a friend?

  My mind rapidly assessed all the possibilities. Who would have motivation to kill Bennet?

  A sudden unsettling thought barreled into me. Was it possible that someone wanted to murder the three of us so that Lady Rosemarie would have no choice but to enter the convent?

  I glanced to the head table, where the abbot had sat all evening without moving from his chair. Even now with all the commotion, the abbot remained in his spot. His forehead was creased with worry, and he’d pushed his goblet of ale away, obviously no longer interested in drinking the beverage for fear of the poisoning.

  I leaned back on my heels and peered around the room, searching for the culprit. Nevertheless, my gaze came to rest again on the abbot’s tonsured head.

  From the start, I’d sensed the abbot’s reticence to our arrival. But surely he wasn’t so strongly against Lady Rosemarie getting married t
hat he would resort to murdering her only prospects.

  It was a ludicrous idea.

  Of course honoring the Ancient Vow was important. And of course becoming a nun was a sacred and valuable service to God. But surely the abbot couldn’t begrudge Lady Rosemarie the chance to test whether that was truly God’s will for her or not.

  Unless he had something more to gain by her entering the convent.

  I could only shake my head. I couldn’t — ​wouldn’t — ​allow myself to think that the abbot was connected in any way with the attempted murders. As a knight, I was bound to believe the best about someone until proven otherwise.

  I let the abbot’s gentle hands smooth my hair back. But neither the abbot’s comforting gesture, the cool night air, nor the glorious fragrance from my roses could soothe my troubled heart.

  “I’m sorry, my child,” the abbot said again, as he had many times since I’d kneeled before him in the garden.

  The physician had finally arrived at the castle, and the knights had helped move the poisoned nobleman to his chamber. But no one held out much hope that Baron York would live through the night.

  While the other guests had retired to their rooms, I’d fled to my garden for solace. Abbot Francis Michael had been kind enough to follow me, but I wasn’t sure anything — ​not even his meditations about life and death — ​could take away the pain of knowing a man was dying in my home . . . on account of me.

  I’d overheard Sir Bennet’s confession that he’d accidentally picked up the wrong goblet, that the poison had been intended for him.

  If only I’d never agreed to the dance. If only I’d refused to have the guests. If only I’d decided against the duke’s plans in the first place . . . then the nobleman wouldn’t be lying on his bed in agony and gasping his last breath.

  “There you are, dear one,” came the duke’s voice from behind me. The flicker of torchlight illuminated the nook of my garden. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere and was beginning to get worried that someone had kidnapped you.”

  At the duke’s presence, I raised my head and straightened my shoulders, hoping I appeared more controlled than I felt.

  “How’s Baron York?” I asked of the duke, only to find that his three knights stood behind him along with the sheriff and bailiff.

  “He’s still alive.” The duke drew closer, the torchlight causing my red dress to shimmer like dancing flames of fire.

  I breathed in the night air, praying as I had for the past hour that God would spare the man’s life. “Have we discovered any clues as to who might be responsible for these murder attempts?”

  My gaze flitted over Sir Bennet, with his dark, chiseled handsomeness, and Sir Collin, with his carefree, windswept attractiveness. Both of their faces were hard, all traces of the usual flattery and humor gone. I was sure they were both thinking just as I was how close they’d come to losing their lives. And even though I didn’t want Baron York to lose his life, I would have been inconsolable had the murderer hit his target with either of the knights. I’d only known them two weeks, but it was long enough that I’d grown to care about them. Maybe I hadn’t fallen in love with them, but I couldn’t bear to think of either one dying.

  Sir Derrick stepped out of the shadows, and my attention flew to him like a moth to light. My pulse ceased to beat. What if the murderer struck again? Would Sir Derrick be the next target?

  The very thought pierced my heart.

  “We’ve already scoured the kitchen,” the sheriff said, stepping forward. “But I’m planning to search each of the guest rooms tonight.”

  “Surely we don’t suspect any of the nobles?”

  “I’m not ruling out any possibilities.” The sheriff glanced with narrowed eyes at Sir Derrick.

  “Then, until we can locate the murderer,” I said, “I think we should cancel the festivities.”

  “But we’re running out of time,” the duke said. “After the other delays, we have only two weeks left until your eighteenth birthday.”

  In the darkness of the garden with the expanse of stars overhead, I glanced up at the abbot. I’d expected him to readily agree with my assessment to cancel the activities. But instead of acquiescence, he shook his head. “I may not agree with the worldliness of these affairs, but now that you’re almost halfway through the month, I don’t want to encourage you to stop. If by some chance love has blossomed inside you already, I would not want to be the one to pluck the bloom.”

  Was two additional weeks enough? The very thought of so little time left was disheartening.

  “I wouldn’t want you to resent me for the rest of your life,” he continued, “for stopping you from at least seeing what might happen.”

  If I ceased now, would I always wonder what might have happened?

  My attention flickered to Derrick. His face was taut, his expression unreadable.

  If I was completely honest with myself, I knew I didn’t want to stop. Not yet. Not until I’d had the chance to explore the strange feelings I’d felt lately.

  “But what of the safety of the knights and my guests? What if the murderer strikes again? What if next time he succeeds?”

  The abbot glanced at the young knights with narrowed brow. “If these men are the three strongest and most valiant knights in the land, then they’ll be able to protect themselves now that the threat is known.”

  “What of my guests?”

  “We shall post extra guards,” the duke suggested. “And for the remainder of the festivities we’ll use extra caution and vigilance, especially for Lady Rosemarie.”

  I wanted to contradict both men. If the murderer had struck twice with such ease, what would prevent him from doing so again?

  Through the flickering torchlight, I met Sir Derrick’s gaze. I studied the clouded depths of his eyes, surprised that I wished for his advice in the matter. I could count on him to be honest with me. He spoke what was on his mind without thought of flattery. And I valued that quality.

  What do you think I should do?

  As if sensing my question, he lifted his chin, his hard expression admonishing me to be brave and face the danger.

  “Very well,” I said slowly. “We shall continue with our plans.”

  I’d pray for courage to keep going in spite of the threats that hung over us. But perhaps I’d also pray that somehow I could convince Sir Derrick to fight to win my heart.

  Chapter

  15

  “All three knights are incredibly handsome,” said one of the young ladies near me.

  I sat at the center of the ladies in my grand chair, which had been placed under the shade of the splendid tent along the side of the field. We’d gathered to watch the jousting tournament, all dressed in beautiful gowns with flowing headpieces.

  “You’re so lucky to have their attention, my lady,” the young woman spoke again, staring into the list — ​the fenced-off area where the knights were preparing for the first joust. Most of the young noblewomen were married, but a few single daughters had come to join the festivities with their parents.

  I watched the proceedings with fascination. I hadn’t witnessed a jousting tournament since my parents had died. Yet even if the proceedings were grander than what I remembered, I was aware of what was expected of me. As the queen of the tournament, I’d need to bestow my favor upon one of the knights. And even though I wanted to be fair to all three of my suitors, I’d already determined to reward that favor to the knight who wore the coat of arms with the red dragon. I must properly thank him for his rescue of the criminals that day in the marketplace. He deserved it, and my townspeople would expect it.

  After getting to know the three men, I was convinced the red dragon knight and Sir Derrick were one and the same. Today, I would discover for certain.

  The few unattached women around me were giggling and making eyes at the knights who had begun to assemble in front of us. Upon their snorting mounts and decked in their gleaming armor, they were indeed a sight to behold. And y
et I didn’t see the fire-breathing dragon among the coats of arms displayed by the various noblemen participating in the tournament.

  Maybe a part of me hoped that by awarding Sir Derrick my favor for the tournament, he’d change his mind and decide to try to win me after all. But what if he didn’t? How could I gain his interest in participating with Sir Collin and Sir Bennet?

  I took a deep breath and turned to the lady closest to me. I forced out the question before I lost my nerve. “What kinds of things do you do when you wish to show a man that you’re interested in him?”

  The ladies around me tittered.

  Heat rushed into my face, and I wished I could take back my question.

  “Oh it’s easy, my lady,” said one of the married ladies.

  ’Twould not be easy for me, not in the least. But I bit back the words.

  “You must smile at him a lot,” said one pretty young woman.

  “And ask him questions about himself,” said another.

  “Make sure to compliment him for his brave deeds.”

  “If possible, single him out for a conversation.”

  “Sit next to him.”

  “Always laugh at his jokes.”

  The suggestions overwhelmed me. How would I ever accomplish such things, especially with Sir Derrick? But what other choice did I have? He’d made it clear at the dance last evening that he was determined not to pursue me, even if he wanted to. That he’d stood back to allow his noble friends to win my heart.

  I gave a soft sigh.

  Of all three knights, why was I most drawn to the one who wanted me the least? Why couldn’t my heart react to Sir Collin or Sir Bennet with the same measure it did to Sir Derrick? I’d spent the least time with him, and yet I found myself thinking about him the most.

  The ladies grew suddenly silent. At the sight of the duke in his brilliantly polished armor approaching the list with his three knights riding behind him, my body tensed in anticipation. The sound of trumpeters heralded their appearance. They trotted gallantly toward me, and the knights who were already waiting parted to let them approach. When the men were lined up in front of me on their warhorses, my heart finally resumed its beating, albeit at twice the pace.