An Interrupted Tapestry

by Madeline Hunter

  “Ich bin hier,” Andreas called back.

  His embrace loosened. He brushed her lips with his and glanced to the man again. “That is my brother, Stefan. He knew that I came here this morning.”

  “You should find out why he is looking for you.”

  “I suppose I must.”

  As they walked to the house, Andreas’s arm slid down her back and across her waist until, when they approached Stefan, he was not touching her at all.

  They spoke in their native tongue, and she understood none of it. She heard the name Alberti, however.

  Andreas sent Stefan away and pulled her back into his arms. “I must go. A trader’s clerk has arrived at my house with a gift, and I should see him.”

  She accepted it with a calm that surprised her. Her heart fell a little, and the joy dimmed a bit, but not enough to make her regret what had just happened.

  Of course the negotiations with Signore Alberti would continue. It was the way of such things. She had no illusions that she could hold on to Andreas. But in this garden he had been hers alone, as he had been years ago.

  “I will come and see you tomorrow before I go to Essex,” he said, giving her a final kiss.

  “I will be ready to ride when you come.”

  “I must refuse to let you accompany me this time, Giselle. From what you have said, Wolford is no John Hastings.”

  “I will not enter his manor, but I am coming to Essex. If something has happened to Reginald already, I want to know at once. If he is safe, I want to know that, too. I will not wait here in London while this unfolds.”

  Giselle lingered in the garden after Andreas left. She did not contemplate what had happened but simply basked in the magical mood that their embrace had created. She marvelled at the way her whole being remained flushed with wonder and surprise long after his departure.

  Finally, regretfully, she relinquished her hold on the spell, and its on her, and entered the house.

  Only moonlight guided her, but its eerie glow showed the table and bench in the hall, and the one remaining stool. The shelf that once displayed the silver plate formed a harsh, black gash on the white wall. The whole chamber appeared as so many voids, all lacking the objects that held memories and made a home. The house had been reduced over the years to little more than a structure, and this morning’s losses had stripped it further.

  At least the tapestry remained. It burned like a brilliant flower in a barren wasteland. Its reds and golds absorbed the vague light and then threw it back, increased a hundredfold. The flowing, organic vines defied the rest of the chamber’s angular practicality.

  Normally, the sight of it gave her comfort, but not tonight. It was no longer hers, for one thing. She also knew now that the tapestry would never serve the purpose in her life that she had assumed.

  In her youth it had hung in her family’s hall, and as a girl she learned the story of how it had come to them, its ancient age, and the story attached to its flaw. It had moved her profoundly when, on her fifteenth birthday, her father said it was hers, to be brought to her new home when she married the lord he had just chosen for her.

  There had been no marriage, of course. The rebellion against King Henry had interrupted those plans. When the war was over her father was dead, and she and Reginald lost their patrimony. The man who had taken their home had been kinder than necessary and accepted her word that the tapestry was hers. He had allowed them to remove a few other things, too.

  Things like the plate and the iron candleholders—none of which remained.

  The tapestry had hung here for ten years, waiting to be the great luxury that set her dowry apart when Reginald found the coin to arrange a marriage for her. That had been the goal of all his grand plans, or so he had always explained. A marriage to a landed lord was the surest way to begin reestablishing the family. She had wasted the best years of her life sitting in this house, believing it would happen.

  From what Andreas had said, however, it appeared that Reginald had given up on that idea long ago.

  She had been slowly accepting reality all day, and now she swallowed the bitter conclusion. There would be no dowry. Ever. No husband at all, let alone a landed lord. No secure place.

  The cold truth of that lodged in her soul like a lump of lead. Her eyes began misting, but she wiped them furiously with her hand. She would not weep over her stupidity.

  Her strength cracked despite her efforts. The tears flowed faster than she could brush them away.

  What a foolish dreamer she had been, living in a cloud. She was lucky that the whole city had not laughed at her outright when she walked down the lanes.

  Suddenly, the tapestry struck her as ugly. Its vines appeared ensnaring, and its flowers monstrous.

  She turned to the stairs, feeling old and painfully wise.

  She wished that she were back in the garden, in Andreas’s arms, where for a lovely few moments she had tasted what it meant to be young and beautiful and desired. She wished that he was here to hold her, as he had near the docks, in an embrace of protection and friendship.

  Six

  “If I have not returned by today’s nightfall, do not grow concerned.”

  “And if you have not returned by tomorrow’s nightfall?”

  “In that event, you might call for the sheriff.”

  Andreas’s light tone did not mask the dark implications of what he said. Confronting Wolford would be dangerous. Even if that knave did not hold Reginald, he might decide that Andreas von Bremen would make an attractive hostage.

  Giselle watched as Andreas removed Reginald’s sword from its scabbard and tested its weight and feel. She had insisted on bringing it with them, but its glinting edge and point only sharpened her worry.

  “Have you used one before?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you skilled with it?”

  He shrugged.

  “Then perhaps you should not take it.”

  “If I look too much a merchant, they may not see a man, but a chicken to be plucked.”

  She turned away from the hard image Andreas cut as he raised and lowered the sword to accustom himself to it.

  She looked out the window of her chamber. Andreas had taken two of them on the top level of the inn. From here she could see most of the little town and the fields beyond that stretched to the horizon.

  The journey here had been pleasant and happy. Andreas had brought an extra horse for her, and they had ridden side-by-side through the beautiful summer morning. They had spoken of many things, but not the ones that mattered.

  There had been no mention of Reginald or of the ordeal waiting. Nor had there been conversation about last night or what had occurred in the garden. That passion might have never happened.

  Except that thoughts of it had never left her mind. Or his, she suspected. The memories existed in the looks he gave her and the gentle protection he showed. There was no mistaking that their friendship and bond had changed—forever.

  The sound of steel on steel made her turn. Andreas was returning the sword to its scabbard. He reached into a bag that he had carried up from his horse and withdrew a small purse. “There is coin in here for your meals, and if you need it for anything else.”

  He began to throw it toward the bed but stopped, and dropped it on the hearthstone instead.

  “You are leaving now?”

  He nodded.

  She branded her mind with the sight of him, standing tall and strong, clasping the sword in his hand. Of course he would be safe. He was twice as clever as any brigand and, she suspected, twice as dangerous when he chose to be. A man did not rise in the Hanse if he was stupid or careless or weak.

  “I find myself regretting that I involved you in this, Andreas. It was not fair to you.”

  “You have honored me by asking for my help, Giselle.”

  “No, I have endangered you.”

  “There will be little danger, I am sure.”

  She wasn’t sure at all. Her stomach
churned, and her mind filled with images of violence.

  He must have seen her worry. He laid the sword on the bed and extended his arm to her.

  She ran to the sanctuary of his embrace.

  “Kiss me, my lady, so that I know you do not regret what started between us last night.”

  Started. That implied a finish. After this day her debt to him would be much greater than any loan made thus far.

  The warmth of his arms made that obligation insignificant. The subtle excitement that had stirred in her all night and all morning spun a little faster. She wished that he was not leaving and that she could nestle in this security for hours.

  Even if there were no debts, no danger, and no need for his help, she would want a finish. She had made that decision last night while she laid on her bed in the silent house, thinking about him.

  She raised her head and kissed him, so he would know that there were no regrets.

  The promise of what waited for them was in that kiss, in his embrace, and in the look he gave her as he left the chamber.

  “I do not understand why Wolford was so accommodating, but I am glad that he was. The chamber he gave me was very small and barely fit for a servant. And his board is not to my liking, either. Too much fish and his wine was sour.”

  Reginald waited until they were out of sight of Wolford’s manor before speaking. He rode the extra horse that Andreas had optimistically brought and appeared none the worse for his imprisonment. His rich garments were soiled, but their gold embroidery and his blond hair sparkled so brilliantly in the light of the evening sun that a bit of dirt hardly mattered.

  “He was agreeable because I promised to come back with the money within three days,” Andreas said.

  “I had made the same promise, but he was not agreeable with me.”

  “The difference may be that he believes I will indeed bring it.”

  Reginald’s brow puckered. “A fine thing, when a man accepts a merchant’s word over a fellow knight’s.”

  Andreas barely resisted the urge to wipe Reginald’s frown away with his fist. Reginald kept missing life’s lessons, even to the point of death.

  The frown left of its own accord, and Reginald’s easy smile returned. “This is my sister’s doing, isn’t it? Your being here.”

  “You left her nowhere else to turn. There is hell to pay back in London, Reginald. If fate had not brought me to England now, Wolford would be eating you for dinner tomorrow.”

  “He never would have killed me. It was just a ruse on his part to get the money.”

  Andreas thought of the swarthy, angry lord with whom he had just negotiated. Reginald would have probably been laughing and joking to the end and been astonished as hell when the sword actually fell.

  As they rode back to the town, they spoke of old times and pointless things. Andreas could see private worries growing in Reginald’s mind despite their aimless conversation. They were reflected in his blue eyes and on his precise features and in the way he kept scratching the scalp beneath his golden hair.

  “I am thinking that I should not return to London right away,” he said as they entered the town. “It would make more sense for me to go elsewhere and procure the coin to pay those tradesmen.”

  “How would you do that?”

  “I have a few plans afoot. Once they come together—”

  “And your sister? Will you take her with you?”

  “I would like to, but I don’t see as I can. She will be better contented in London anyway.”

  “How will she eat? Where will she live?”

  “Everyone likes her, and once she explains that I will return soon and pay the tallies, no one will put her out or let her starve. You can explain that to her when you are back in London, and she will understand.”

  “Well, she is here in this town, so you can explain it to her.”

  Reginald’s face fell. “It will embarrass her to see me. I can guess the bargain she made with you, and—”

  “Do not insult her. Do not forget that I am the one who still has the sword.”

  Andreas led the way to the inn and around the back to its stables.

  “It would be best if I just leave,” Reginald explained. “I do not care for long farewells. Women always weep so.”

  “Get off the horse, Reginald.”

  “I truly think that it would be better—”

  “Off.”

  Looking too much like a petulant youth, Reginald dismounted. Andreas gestured him into the long shadow beneath the stable’s eaves.

  “If you are determined to leave, so be it. There is a ship’s master in the Cinque Ports named Paul Knowles. He is always looking for swords to guard his cargo.”

  Reginald laughed indulgently. “Hardly fitting for me, Andreas. The lowest man at arms can do that duty.”

  “It is an honest living, but choose as you prefer. There are two other things that I want to settle with you, however. You have given Giselle the fright of her life, forced her to beg for money to save you, and now you intend to leave her to fend for herself. You will go up to her, and you will apologize for all of it.”

  None too happy, Reginald nodded his agreement on that part. “What is the second thing?”

  “This.”

  Andreas swung his fist and crashed it into Reginald’s charming, perfect face.

  When Giselle saw Andreas and Reginald ride down the lane together, her heart lifted with relief that bordered on ecstasy.

  She watched them from her window until they disappeared around the inn. She was grateful that Reginald was safe, but it was Andreas who absorbed her attention.

  It took them a long time to come up to her. She paced impatiently, until finally she heard boots trudging up the wooden steps.

  Reginald entered, smiling, confident, and handsome. His manner both reassured and irked her. He might be returning from a night at a tavern. Except for a new swelling under one eye, he appeared hale and fit.

  Before he closed the door, she saw Andreas entering the chamber across the landing.

  She joined her brother in an embrace. “Thank the saints that you are unharmed.”

  “It was churlish of Wolford to play such a game and give you such distress.”

  “The whole world knows that Wolford is a knave, so his demanding this ransom could not have surprised you.”

  “He and I got along well before. I thought he favored me and am disappointed in him.”

  “There are limits to any man’s favor, Reginald.”

  “Still, I will never forgive him for making you humble yourself to procure the coin.”

  She did not miss that Reginald was making this Wolford’s fault alone. It had always been thus with him, and probably always would be.

  She looked up at the brother who had been the champion of her childhood and the measure of men in her youth. She saw him very clearly, for the first time. She envied him his childish belief in the future and in his rights. She would always love him, but she could never lie to herself about him again.

  She told him what had transpired at the house. “What do we do now, Reginald?”

  He gently extricated himself from her arms. “I must leave and make my fortune, Giselle. If I return to London I might be imprisoned, and how can I make it right if that happens?”

  “You will take service and live by your sword?” That was something, at least. He had always resisted that option.

  “It would be humiliating to do so, as I have often told you. I should be giving service, not taking it. However, if it isn’t England . . . Flanders, perhaps . . .”

  A shadow slid into her heart.

  “It won’t be for long, Giselle. You will see. I will be back before winter and make things right. Those pledges and tallies will wait until then.”

  They wouldn’t wait. She had just explained that.

  “Of course, if it is the only way, brother, that is how it must be.”

  “If I cannot return soon, I will send for you.”


  “I will come when you do.”

  He took her hands in his. Squeezing them, he smiled so warmly that she almost believed in him again. “I should go at once, while there is still light. Andreas will get you back to London. He will take care of you.”

  He appeared a tad sly as he said the last part.

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “I will take care of myself while you are gone, Reginald.”

  He released her and patted her cheek. “Of course you will. You are a good girl.”

  She wanted to smack him. She itched to upbraid him for the bargain he had once offered Andreas and for assuming she had struck a similar one now.

  Except that, in a way, she had.

  Gazing at him, it did not matter. Reginald was leaving her. Suddenly, the years of love meant more than the recent discoveries. Nostalgic memories saddened her more than the truths she had learned.

  She would let the old illusions live for a few more moments, until she gave them up forever.

  Taking his face in her hands, she filled her memory with the sight of him and let her heart cry.

  His smile cracked. His face fell. Swallowing hard, he stepped back. “I should be going.”

  Her eyes misted as he walked to the door.

  He stopped. He stood there, with his back to her.

  “I am sorry, Giselle.”

  He left.

  Seven

  She waited by the window for Reginald to appear on his horse down below. She stayed there, in the creeping silence and shadows of the night, as he rode away. From her high position she was able to keep him in sight as he galloped over the fields.

  Finally, the deepening dusk absorbed him.

  She blinked, and he disappeared completely.

  She did not turn away from the window, but she knew she was not alone in the chamber. She had not heard Andreas enter, but she felt him behind her, close enough to offer invisible support.

  “How did you get him out?”

  “I convinced Wolford that I would bring the money in three days. It was not a ransom, but the amount Reginald had convinced him to invest in Sandro’s scheme. Reginald had neglected to explain that the chance for great profit also meant the chance for great loss.”