by Sara Bennett
She shivered suddenly in the damp air. The warm day had stirred up a storm that brought early darkness. It still hung about the city, rumbling bad-temperedly, with the occasional flash of lightning. She might regain her bed tonight soaked to the skin, but at least the bad weather ensured the streets were empty…and safe. Lily and her servant met not a single soul as they traversed York.
Several times tonight, Lily had asked herself why she was doing this. Why was she putting herself, and possibly others, in danger of Radulf’s retribution? The answer was simple and always the same: she had to know. Whatever the cost.
“Here ’tis, lady,” the servant mumbled. He flicked a sideways glance toward a curving lane, its edges hidden by shadows. At the far end squatted a small building—the chapel. A providential flash of lightning showed a closed door and dark windows. All was still and silent. Lily turned the horse down the lane, just as thunder roared above them and the heavens opened in flood.
Lily bent forward to murmur soothing words to the gelding as she glanced quickly about, searching for a good vantage point. A deserted wooden cottage looked promising—there were many such places in York, left to rot by those fleeing from various waves of invaders. The rain poured down upon Lily and she wiped a hand across her eyes, blinking, blinded.
If she did not find shelter soon she would be drowned, she thought irritably. The servant had followed her, his thin shoes sinking in the mud, and now stood at her side, muttering English curses. Shielding her face, Lily dismounted and pulled the gelding through the cottage doorway. The air there was heavy with decay, the smell of abandoned hope. The roof thatch had partially fallen in and the rain hammered down.
Lily found what shelter she could, the servant huddling close by. His face was a white blur in the darkness, and although Lily was not afraid, he was. She felt his fear, acrid and cold, when he brushed against her shoulder in the confined space.
“You can go home now,” she shouted above the rain. “Or better still, go back to the inn and find Una. She will feed you while you wait for my return. Then you may escort your lady home.”
He hesitated, plainly torn between what he knew was his duty, and his terror at being in such a place and the consequences it might bring down upon him.
“Go,” Lily insisted, touching his arm gently. “I do not need you now.”
When the servant had gone, stumbling over some fallen timbers in his haste, Lily stood alone and listened to the rain. She was truly on her own now. Just as she had been on her own before Grimswade. Hiding, running, a vixen pursued by hounds; alone, abandoned, in a changing world. Standing there now in the summer storm, Lily felt as if nothing had really changed. Radulf might never have been. A dream, that was all it was.
Slowly the rain began to ease. It must be near Compline now, she decided, just as a frog started up a noisy song nearby. The gelding trembled, and as Lily reached to soothe him, she caught the sound of horses’ hooves, coming closer.
Her heart pounding, she moved to peer through a dark split in the wall, but all she could see was the white cloud of her own breath. The horses had drawn to a halt at the head of the lane, and she could hear the faint shout of voices, of instructions given. And then a single horse clattered out of the streaky darkness, slowing as it approached the chapel. It circled cautiously as its rider surveyed his surroundings. He was tall, made bulky with his chain mail, and his head was otter sleek because of the steel helmet.
Radulf. Lily knew it by his spare, confident movements as much as by the size and shape of him. He was as familiar to her as herself. She pressed her palms against the damp wood on either side of her peephole, and heard the soft groan of unstable timbers. Alice’s gelding, hearing and smelling the other horses, whickered softly.
“Hush,” Lily murmured. “Soft now.”
More sounds, more horses approaching, a sharp whinny. Lily stiffened and watched as Radulf turned to face the new arrivals. At the head of the lane there came the deadly scrape of swords leaving their scabbards, and then a female voice cried out, “Hold!” A moment later a lone rider passed Lily’s cottage, moving to join Radulf.
That it was a woman was plain enough, despite the all-covering cloak and hood. As she reached Radulf she tossed back her hood and for a moment was lit up by a flicker of distant lightning. It was Anna, and she was smiling.
“Radulf!” she cried, her melodious voice shot through with triumph. Lady Anna’s mount tossed its head uneasily, but she urged it closer to Radulf’s stallion. “I knew you would come!”
“Aye, I am here.” Radulf’s husky voice was more difficult to hear.
Lily’s eyes widened. He did not sound like a lover. There was anger in his voice, and steel. Something like hope stirred within Lily, her breath quickening as she pressed closer to the wall.
Lady Anna looked up at the sky, from which soft rain still fell. “Is the chapel open?”
“It appears not, but there will be shelter by the wall.” Radulf dismounted, and reached up to help her down. She leaned into his arms, her body sliding against his as her feet touched ground. Radulf stepped back so quickly she all but fell, her hand going to his arm and fastening there.
She laughed. “You could not stay away, my Radulf,” she said, still supremely confident. “You remember, just as I do. I have never forgotten.”
Radulf stared down at her, and Lily could see how stiff his shoulders had become, how straight his back. She ached with his tension, his pain. Did he struggle against the need to pull the Lady Anna into his arms? To kiss her fiercely and wildly and make up for all the years they had lost?
Hope dwindled once more.
“There is shelter over here,” he said, and turned toward the chapel. Anna’s hand slipped from his arm and hung a moment in space, irresolute; then she followed meekly to the place beneath the eaves. They moved together, the shadows joining them, concealing them. Their voices were now too low to be heard, for the rain had grown heavy again, drumming furiously on the roof.
Lily groaned in frustration. With all that she had done, now she could not hear what they were saying! Yet was there any need to hear, when Radulf leaned so close to Anna and her face was turned up to his, her body seeming to quiver with need?
They had been lovers and would be again. Lily’s marriage would be an empty sham, just as it had been with Vorgen. But worse, because all she and Radulf had was desire, and when that desire began to fade—it might have done so already—Lily would have nothing. Anna held his heart and had no intention of releasing it.
After what seemed a long time, Lady Anna moved away from the wall. She walked toward her mount with a quick, hurrying step and even before Radulf could follow her, was reaching toward the saddle. He caught her up and tossed her easily into her seat. She clung there, head bowed, obviously under the influence of some great emotion.
“You say you have never forgotten,” Radulf said, raising his voice above the rain. “I wish to God I could!”
There was agony in his words, and it twisted inside Lily. Her hands fell limp to her sides. If Radulf loved the woman so much, so unbearably, then there truly was no hope. She must accept that he would never be hers.
Anna lifted her head and stared at the man at her side, and then she snatched up the reins. She said something too low for Lily to hear. A vow perhaps, a promise for tomorrow? And then Radulf also spoke, but now the rain was much too heavy and his words were inaudible. He seemed to speak for a long time.
A tear slipped down Lily’s cheek, tasting salty against her lips. She had reached up to wipe it away when Anna gave a single, almost inhuman cry. Shocked, shaking, Lily pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes fixed to the scene unfolding before her.
Anna dragged up the reins, forcing her horse onto its back legs. Lily gasped, thinking that the emotion had been too great for her and that she meant to ride wildly from the scene. But no, Anna gave another cry and dug her heels viciously into her horse’s sides. It sprang forward, straight at Radulf.
He leaped to the side, probably saving his life, but the horse still knocked against his shoulder. He was spun around by the force, falling to the ground. Lily screamed and, stumbling over fallen debris and splashing through the downpour, ran out of the cottage.
Anna had wheeled her mount around. Another lightning flash showed her face. Her lips were drawn back, her jaw rigid. She clearly intended to set her horse at the prone man, to ride over the top of him.
“Radulf!” Lily cried as she picked up her skirts and sprinted.
Anna hesitated, looking around. The mounted men waiting at the head of the lane pounded to the rescue, muddying Lily as they passed. Before Anna could finish what she had begun, they had cut her off and surrounded her.
She was panting, cornered. “Let me go!” she screamed. “I am the wife of Lord Kenton and I demand you release me!”
The armed men hesitated, clearly not wanting to let her go after what they had witnessed. Then Radulf’s voice rose from among them. He had struggled into a sitting position and stared up at the woman who had tried to kill him.
“Let her go. I have done with her.”
Reluctantly, they released Lady Anna’s reins. She took a moment to arrange her cloak. As she pulled up her hood she caught sight of Lily’s bedraggled figure, standing just beyond the circle of armed men. When their eyes met, Lily had the impression that Anna might ride her down, too. Then she looked fixedly beyond Lily, her face shiny with rain and tears, and kicking the horse into a sedate trot, she rode past Lily as if she didn’t exist.
“What do you here, girl?” A gruff voice spoke in Lily’s ear, a hard hand fastening on to her arm. Before she could tell him to release her, the man peered down into her face and recognized her. “Lady?” He gave voice to his bewilderment.
Lily was already shaking off his grip and brushed past him, hurrying toward where Radulf was hidden by his guard. Perhaps Anna had had some weapon! Perhaps she had struck at Radulf as she rode at him! Panicked, blinded, Lily moved the men by screaming, “Let me through!” when her fists made no impression.
They shuffled back and revealed their fallen leader.
He was still seated upon the wet ground, his back bent over awkwardly as he grasped his right shoulder with his left hand. His face shone with a pale sheen, sweat as well as rain. He was wounded. Radulf, the immortal warrior of legend, was hurt.
As Lily dropped to her knees beside him, she was more terrified than she had ever been before in her life. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over his body, to heal him. But she was also afraid…afraid of what she might find.
Radulf lifted his head, his eyes dull in his pain-twisted face. He blinked, as if to clear his sight. “Lily?” he rasped. “What the devil do you here?”
Trembling, she reached out one hand and gently rested it upon his shoulder. He winced, but did not pull away. “’Tis not like to kill me,” he said with a hint of his old humor. “I’ve grown lax, and it serves me right. I had forgotten a woman could be as dangerous as any man.”
“Is it broken?” Lily asked. Broken limbs could be mended, but often they were never as strong or straight again, and sometimes the patient took a fever or the flesh rotted inside, and death then followed. The lane seemed to swirl about her and she shivered violently.
“Lily,” he murmured, and his voice seemed to come from a long way away, “what are you doing here?” Then, when she would not answer, “No, it is not broken. ’Tis out of its socket. Jervois can put it back in; he’s done it twice before. ’Tis not a comfortable procedure, but I can bear it. Lily?” His voice grew anxious. “Catch her, someone, she faints!”
But Lily had no intention of fainting. “No, no, I am all right,” she said, pushing away the eager hands. “I…we must see to Lord Radulf,” she added, her voice growing more authoritative. “Help him onto his horse. We must return to the inn. But slowly, for the ride will be painful for him.”
Radulf gave a laugh that turned into a groan as his men raised him to his feet. “I am used to a little discomfort, lady. I will not break.”
But perhaps something in her eyes showed him what she had suffered when she saw him fall, because he gave her a long, searching look. “Did you ride here?” he asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him, and looked around him for a horse.
“Yes.” She shook, bereft when he took his eyes from her. “In the cottage, hidden…It is Alice’s.”
A flare of anger lit his face, swiftly followed by resignation. “Fetch my lady’s horse,” he instructed, “and see her safely upon it. I do not wish to find her missing when we reach the inn. And as for you, my lady…” He paused, making her wait. “I will have an explanation very soon.”
“You will soon be too feverish to hear it,” Lily retorted with spirit.
The journey home was difficult, but no worse than many others Radulf had made in his life. And he had much to ponder. Tonight he had made a great change. He had finally opened that painful wound that he had merely prodded occasionally over the years. It had always been there, poisoning him, but tonight he had faced Anna, and the poison had spilled free.
Just now he felt too tired to be glad, but he had faced his past. It was done, over. Lady Anna was no viper, just a beautiful and selfish woman who had carelessly, heartlessly destroyed the lives of a father and his son. It was not her fault alone; Radulf accepted his portion of the blame. But soon he would be able to remember her without that familiar, grinding ache. And perhaps he would be able to remember his father without that final, shattering scene between them.
His shoulder jolted and the pain was so intense that it required all his concentration to stay in his saddle. When it had subsided and his vision had cleared, he noted Lily riding quietly at his side. She had not spoken since they began their journey. No doubt she was working at spinning a fine tale, lies tangled with just enough truth to make it plausible.
Radulf sighed. When he had first seen her standing in the rain he had thought she was a dream, some fancy of his tormented mind and throbbing body. And then he had seen that it really was Lily, and his heart had swelled with joy at the sight of her.
Until the doubts began.
Was she in league with Anna somehow? Two she-devils together? But that made no sense. Lily and Anna were not at all alike—the one so full of her own concerns and the other willing to sacrifice herself for her people. What then? And why, when she had escaped the vigilance of Jervois, had she not simply run north to the border, to her cousin Hew?
Of course, there was his threat to harm her people if she did not obey him. Lily would never abandon her people; she was not the sort of woman to abandon anyone who needed her.
Radulf shook his head. He was tired and in pain. His wife was by his side, and he did not want to think ill of her. This night’s work had been for her sake as well as his own. He had wanted to free himself from his past, to face his future unfettered by those old chains.
“We will soon be there.”
Her voice brought him up from the morass of his thoughts. Radulf gave a brusque nod, which made his shoulder ache again. He gritted his teeth and let the pain fill him, swallowing all else.
It was still raining gently when they reached the inn. Lily hurried to dismount, sending one of the men into the inn to fetch Jervois while she instructed the others. They did not really need instruction, but she was concerned that they would hurt Radulf and he would not say so. His face had grown paler and paler; she was sure that he would faint at any moment and was only remaining conscious because of stubborn masculine pride.
Radulf did feel dizzy and faint. His head spun as he lowered himself from the saddle, and he had to lean heavily upon the shoulders of his men. He’d rather be drawn and quartered than faint in front of his wife. With a tremendous effort of will, Radulf pushed himself away from their support and, pulling himself up as straight as he could, walked into the inn.
The smoke made it difficult to see, and his nose twitched at the smells of confined living. It was ho
t, too, the fire blazing. Radulf wavered between continuing on to the wine jug he could see on a table or sinking onto the nearest bench. Jervois appeared beside him, looking almost as white and shocked as his lord.
“His shoulder has come out of its socket,” Lily said briskly, before worse could be assumed. “Radulf says you have helped him with it before, Jervois.”
Jervois reined in his moment of panic. “I have, lady.” The words were out before it struck him that her presence in Radulf’s party was wrong. “But…what do you outside? I…you were in your chamber.”
Radulf shook with weak laughter. “Was she, Jervois?”
“Come, help me get him to bed,” Lily cut in quickly. “Once you have dealt with him I do not think he will want to be moved again.”
But the bedchamber door opened before they could reach it, and Alice’s startled blue eyes peered out. When she saw Radulf supported between his men and Lily at his side, dripping and wet and white-faced, she gasped and scuttled back out of the way. Jervois shot her a furious glance as he passed but said nothing.
“Wine,” Radulf gritted as he sank down onto the bed.
Jervois’s tone was conspiratorial. “Best fetch it for him, lady. We have to remove his armor and clothing before I can tend his shoulder, and I fear it will hurt him a great deal.”
She nodded and forced herself to turn away. Alice caught up with her at the doorway.
“What has happened? My servant said that you sent him away. How could you be so foolish, Lily?”
Lily waved one impatient hand. “There is no time for that now. Radulf is hurt.”
“How was he hurt? You said it wasn’t going to be dangerous.”
“It wasn’t…at least…I can’t answer you now. I thank you, though, with all my heart. If I had not been there…” And she shuddered violently.
“Lily? Come, sit down. You are as much in need of wine as Radulf!”
“Lady?” Jervois said, looking less than his usual steady self. “The wine.”
