by Jody Hedlund
“She was a good woman,” I said.
Adelaide swallowed hard and then spoke in a low tone. “I loved her as if she were my own mother.”
“And she, likewise, loved you as her own.” Sometimes I forgot that Adelaide wasn’t really my cousin, that Mother and Father had taken her in as a young child. “You were a gift and a joy to her.”
“She was a courageous woman,” Adelaide whispered. “I can only pray I have half the courage she had.”
I didn’t understand Adelaide’s reference to my mother’s courage. She’d lived in seclusion, rarely extending invitations to visitors, preferring a quiet and simple life. Nevertheless, now that I had this tentative truce with Adelaide, I wouldn’t contradict her sacred memory of the woman we’d both loved.
“You are already courageous and strong,” I said instead, my mind filling with images of Adelaide as a young girl insisting on learning to wield a sword and lance and bow. She’d been tough and quick and smart, so much so that at times I’d forgotten she was a girl. Even now, she stood attired in men’s breeches beneath a hauberk and cloak. With her hood pulled up, she could easily pass for a man.
“I miss her terribly.” Adelaide lifted her long lashes and met my gaze, her eyes filled with such sorrow I couldn’t keep from bending in to comfort her. I embraced her once more and this time pressed a kiss upon her cheek. As my lips made contact, however, I was suddenly much too conscious of the softness of her skin.
I moved my lips away and pressed my cheek against hers intending to offer comfort, not intimacy. But with our cheeks touching, her mouth was near my ear, and I heard her quick intake of breath, reminding me of her beauty and the fact that she was no longer a mere girl.
Was I overstepping the bounds of propriety? I hesitated, suddenly uncertain how I should be treating Adelaide.
“I have missed you as well.” Her statement was almost shy and echoed in the hollow part of my ear, sending strange warmth to my gut—a completely inappropriate reaction as her cousin. I pulled away and this time released her. Nevertheless, my sights lingered upon her face, exploring each curve, each perfect line, and each lovely detail.
When a faint, rosy hue spread into her high cheekbones, I realized my scrutiny was causing her discomfort. I smiled, hoping to put her at ease. “Since you have missed me, then you would not deny me a bath and hot meal, would you?” I nodded toward the sack that bulged with all the creatures her falcon had captured.
The softness and vulnerability fled from her features, replaced by hard determination. “You may ride on to Kentworth and do as you please, my lord. Command the few remaining servants to tend to your needs. They shall do so willingly, I am sure.”
She tightened the knot of the game bag upon her saddle and then slung her foot into the stirrup, glancing at me over her shoulder as she hoisted herself up. “However, they shall have to do so without the luxury of this game. This is intended for others.”
With that, she settled into her saddle, gathered the reins, and urged her horse away.
Chapter
4
Adelaide
I knelt on the dirt floor next to the pallet and grasped the old peasant woman’s hand, heedless of the open sores on her skin.
“You’re a kind soul, my lady,” Edith lisped through missing teeth and shriveled lips turned inward.
“I only wish I could do more.” I squeezed her hand before rising.
“You ’ave done more than anyone, lady,” said Mary, who cared tirelessly for her mother in spite of being busy with her own family. She hefted her lethargic infant son higher on her hip. With every visit I’d made during the winter and spring, I’d watched the child wasting away, his eyes becoming more sunken and his cheeks hollow.
The hungering time had taken its toll on everyone.
“The worst is over,” I reassured Mary. “We shall have a plentiful year to come.”
I prayed my prediction was true. Mary’s husband and older children worked the Langley fields from sunup to sundown, plowing, tilling, planting, and weeding. As their payment for their labor, they always got to keep a small portion of the harvest.
Of late, however, the portion hadn’t been enough. Not for anyone.
Though I’d resented Christopher for running away from Mercia, over the past year I’d begun to understand more clearly what had driven him, for I experienced the same discontent with King Ethelwulf and his rule whenever I rode the countryside and saw the sad, hungry faces of the peasants.
I felt the same smoldering anger when I visited the Langley-owned iron smelter in Everly and witnessed the poor working conditions. In fact, I’d even once convinced Mitchell to use our earnings from a jousting tournament to pay the income of the laborers rather than lay them off as many other smelters in the Iron Cities had been forced to do this past year.
With a final nod good-bye to Edith and Mary, I stooped under the dried herbs hanging in bunches from the low rafters. As I stepped carefully around the central hearth and the scant possessions the family owned, I was keenly aware of Christopher’s scrutiny from the doorway.
Even though he was obviously worn and weary from his travels, he’d sent Tall John home with the falcon and insisted on accompanying me as I made my rounds to several of the small villages on Langley land. He’d gone with me from hut to hut as I divided the meat among each family.
After the drought last year, the scant deliveries were never enough. No one ever had enough anymore. We wouldn’t until we harvested this year’s crops. But I’d instructed the children on how to look for early June fruits—gooseberries, wild strawberries, and even some cherries. More plentiful were turnips, spring onions, and beetroot. The wild produce along with the game my hawk caught would keep them alive, even if it didn’t completely fill their bellies.
I did what I could to supplement with other supplies when I could purchase them. But the extras were rare since all of Mercia had suffered from the drought, and food everywhere was in short supply.
As I ducked out of the dark, unlit hut, I squinted into the sunshine.
“That is the last of the catch,” Christopher said.
I nodded, well aware of that fact and also well aware of his presence. Ever since he’d embraced me, it was as if every nerve in my body had been strung tight and finely tuned to him. I could sense when he watched me. I could sense his nearness. I could even sense his shifting mood.
As we’d ridden between villages, he’d asked me numerous questions regarding the state of affairs in Langley and throughout Mercia. He’d gone from curious and surprised at how destitute the conditions had become, to angry and morbid. Even now he stood feet slightly apart, holding the reins of both our mounts, his expressive, honey-colored eyes churning with unrest.
“Where to next, my lady?” he said handing me my reins.
“Back to Kentworth,” I replied. “We have done all we can for today.”
He nodded solemnly. His chestnut hair was combed into a leather strip at the back of his neck. His cheeks and chin were covered in a dark layer of scruff. And he wore the dust of many days’ travel. In spite of his ruggedness, he was still handsome with an aura of daring and dashing that had the same power as long ago to make my heart beat faster.
I couldn’t deny that my immediate and strong attraction frustrated me. I’d wanted to remain angry at him for leaving us, to hold him at arm’s length, or at the very least to stay indifferent. But all he had to do was speak a few endearments, hold me, and kiss my cheek, and I’d melted like wax against a flame.
Silently, I rebuked myself to be careful. He’d made no pretense regarding the nature of his visit. He didn’t intend to stay, was leaving again, likely for good. And this time I wouldn’t pine after him. I was, after all, more mature now. I could accept him for the wandering soul he was, could I not?
My anger toward him had been borne out of silly, girlish infatuation anyway. Surely, I was past that. While I might still appreciate Christopher’s fine, dark looks and charm, he held no sway over my
heart. And I would make sure things stayed that way.
The children and a mangy mutt followed us out of the village, skipping along behind our horses. Even with their tattered clothing and dirty bare feet, their laughter and cheerful good-byes were sweeter than any payment I could ever receive.
“How often do you bring them game?” Christopher asked, giving the children a final wave.
“At least once a week now that the game is plentiful. Sometimes two. Winter was particularly hard, and we had to do much more fishing than hunting. But Mitchell and I lifted the hunting and fishing boundary restrictions and allowed the bondsmen and laborers access to whatever food they could catch.”
Christopher fell silent, the clopping of our hooves tapping out the storm I sensed brewing inside him. “Tall John’s missive said Mother died from tumors and an excess of black bile,” he finally said in a strained voice. “Was it from starvation instead?”
“No, ease your mind, my lord. We have fared better than our bondsmen, to be sure. Although I am afraid you will find the estate much reduced as we had to sell most of the valuables.”
Christopher waved a hand to dismiss my comment. “I could not live in luxury if the people who depended upon me were dying.”
I smiled at his passionate statement. For all my frustrations with Christopher, we did share the same heart on many matters.
Atop his steed, his profile was every bit as noble and manly as when he stood directly before me. His shoulders were straight and broad, his arms and legs thick with muscles that he’d developed during his time away. He’d always been bigger and stronger than Mitchell, but it wasn’t his physique alone I admired. Yes, he possessed an irresistible charm with his easy smiles and teasing ways. But beyond that, he felt things deeply. He cared about people and principles more than he did personal gain. And for that, I respected him greatly.
My heartbeat spurted abnormally fast again, chopping against my chest. Before I could look away, his gaze slid to me, and his brow quirked as though to let me know he’d caught me staring. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response and hoped my cheeks weren’t flushing as they had earlier.
“You must be betrothed by now,” he said lightly. “Or at least have many suitors vying for your hand.”
“Aunt Susanna would not allow it.” Not that I’d minded my aunt’s decision. Even if other noblewomen were away at court seeking marriage partners among the elite, I’d been too busy, especially over the last year of drought, to think on such matters.
“Then you are secretly in love with someone?” His eyes twinkled.
I laughed again, this time with more mirth. “Aunt Susanna made no effort to introduce me to the eligible young men and discouraged Mitchell from extending invitations to his friends.” In fact, now that I thought on the matter, it seemed my aunt had purposefully tried to isolate me. Had she worried that some nobleman might see me and recognize my similarity to the previous queen?
Though I’d pondered Aunt Susanna’s deathbed confessions much over the past two months since her passing, I hadn’t resigned myself yet to being one of the lost princesses, much less the crown princess. Regardless of who I was, my circumstances remained unchanged. It wasn’t as if I could ride into Delsworth and demand King Ethelwulf hand the kingdom over to me.
In fact, as far as I could see, there wasn’t much I could do. I was a young woman, alone, without means. Even if a portion of the nobility and ruling class would support me as the rightful heir, they would be risking everything to defy King Ethelwulf. Why would they take such a chance?
“I am surprised Mother did not think to secure your future,” Christopher mused. “Now that job will fall to me—or more likely to Mitchell.”
“Are you anxious to be rid of me, my lord?”
His grin inched higher. “You are quite troublesome and willful. I doubt many men would be able to tame you.”
“Do I need taming?” I could admit I wasn’t like most women who were interested in fashion and courtly love instead of hunting and fighting.
“I think we are all in need of taming,” Christopher answered with more seriousness than I expected. “If we are blessed to find someone who is willing to kindly speak truth into our weaknesses, then we shall be better for it.”
“Have you been blessed with someone who can do that?” I asked. “Surely you have taken a bride by now.”
He ducked under a low branch and didn’t respond right away, which left a strange hollowness in my chest.
“Though I shall not have land, titles, or wealth to my name, King Draybane has offered me the hand of his youngest daughter.”
“Oh.” My voice sounded weak, even let down. At the realization, I inwardly chastised myself. I ought to be happy for Christopher. Such an alliance was sure to prosper him in his new life. I forced cheer to my tone. “I am not surprised you have won the king’s favor. He must think very highly of you to offer his daughter.”
Christopher nodded, but his countenance contained no enthusiasm.
“Do you not harbor affection for the princess?”
“She is a good woman and will make a fine wife.”
“Please tone down your excitement, my lord. It is too much to bear.”
He grinned again. “A healthy marriage has more at its foundation than feelings.”
“Then she is dreadfully dull?”
“I would not speak ill of her.”
“No need. I can see that she is already too tame for you.”
He seemed to ponder my statement as though he hadn’t considered the possibility.
When he began to shake his head in protest, I spoke again before he could. “‘Iron sharpens iron,’” I quoted the old proverb. “If she is made of fine silk and you of iron, she will smother you. Or perhaps you will shred her.”
The cooling breeze of the evening was a refreshing change from the sultry heat that had been my companion all during my morning and afternoon of hunting. My stomach growled from hunger, but as with other times, I let it remind me of the plight of the people who depended upon me for their sustenance. For most of them, the gnawing never went away. Neither did their deplorable living conditions.
“You have grown into a wise woman,” Christopher said.
His words of praise warmed my chest. “I had a very wise teacher.”
“Mother was indeed one of the kindest, most astute women I have known.”
My throat tightened with my fondness for my Aunt Susanna, along with all the grief lingering in my heart, made all the more acute in knowing how much she’d done to keep me safe.
Suddenly, I wanted to tell Christopher everything Aunt Susanna had revealed to me the night of her death. I’d borne the confusion in solitude. Mitchell had brought it up once. But when I’d informed him I had no wish to speak of it again, he respected my desire, and we’d both gone on with our lives as we had before.
What would Christopher think of Aunt Susanna’s revelation about my identity? Would he find it laughable? Perhaps he’d be able to help me make sense of everything.
Before I could talk myself out of telling him, I plunged forward. “On her deathbed, Aunt Susanna confided something—”
He cut me off with a sharp shake of his head and then a finger to his lips. “Someone is coming.”
A mound in the rolling hillside prevented us from seeing around the bend ahead of us, but I trusted Christopher’s sharp instincts more than my own. A moment later, I caught the pounding of approaching hooves. I pointed to a thick hedgerow. “Hide over there.”
“I cannot leave you alone,” he whispered even as he began to veer his horse off the path.
“I am not the one with the bounty upon my head.” I slapped the flank of his horse and then nudged my mount into a canter. I didn’t wait to see if Christopher followed my instructions. Instead, I moved with measured purpose so that when the newcomers rounded the bend a moment later I pulled up short.
I was surprised to see Lord Mortimer upon his warhorse with several
squires riding behind him.
“Lady Adelaide.” The rise of his brow said he was surprised to see me too. He straightened to his full height. Attired in his chain mail and not his plate armor, he was less imposing than he’d been at the jousting tournament where I’d last seen him. Like most knights, his mail was black and matched his dark hair and his black beard that had been trimmed to a sharp point in an effort to imitate the king’s style and thus show his support. With his angular features, long nose, and thick brows, he had an aura of aristocracy. And pride.
Had he finally discovered our treachery at the jousting tournament? Had he come to reclaim his purse of gold? After paying our debt to the physician, I’d planned to take the remainder to Everly when I next visited the smelter and make sure all the laborers had received their due pay. Perhaps now I’d have to discover another way to reimburse those in our employ.
“My lord.” I bowed my head respectfully.
“Are you unaccompanied?” He glanced around with a frown and his squires did likewise.
“I sent my servant home ahead of me, my lord.”
His sharp eyes assessed me almost angrily. “’Tis not safe to be out alone, my lady. Too many vagabonds and pillagers roam freely who would do a lady harm.”
Lord Mortimer was correct. Of late, the conditions had worsened, with too many resorting to corruption in order to survive. Theft, assault, even murder went unpunished so long as it was done in the name of the king. Many lords resorted to bribery, intimidation, and even outright warring to gain what they wanted, regardless of the cost to those they hurt. As they were only following the example of the king, how could he fault their methods when his were often worse?
I pulled back my cloak to reveal my sword. “Have no fear, my lord. I am able to defend myself well enough.”
Lord Mortimer sniffed at the sight of my weapon. “When you are my wife, you will not have need of a sword. Or men’s breeches.”
He spoke as if we were already betrothed, as though our marriage was a foregone conclusion.
“When I am your wife?” I asked carefully, knowing I would be wise not to offend him. He might be proud and foolish at times, but he was not cruel or lawless as some of the other lords had become.
