The Lily and the Sword

by Sara Bennett

  He smiled and stretched, more carefully this time. His muscles rippled, and Lily had the impression of enormous strength held in check. “Probably not,” he replied. “William will not see me punished for something I have not done, but neither can he appear to be one-sided. Lord Kenton has always supported him during the years of war, and he will be watching for bias. Now do what you must. I have to go.”

  Radulf watched her, enjoying the view. His wife’s hair hung well past her hips, the ends tickling against her thighs. A silver screen for her modesty. Radulf’s body tightened as he spied the soft curls between her legs and one jutting pink nipple.

  At such a moment as this he should be thinking of what he would say to William and Lord Kenton, not how much he would like to toss his wife upon the bed and ride her until they were both breathless!

  “Hurry, lady,” he said in as stern a voice as he could manage.

  Lily turned hastily toward the door.

  “Lady?”

  She turned with a sigh. “You told me to hurry. What is it now?”

  Radulf gave her a slow, careful perusal. “If you go out into the other room like that, you’ll have my entire garrison standing to attention.”

  Startled gray eyes met his, and then Lily gasped and quickly snatched up her shift and threw it over her head, tugging her hair impatiently out of the way. Radulf leaned back and watched her dress, enjoying the warm flush of her cheeks and the supple, smooth flesh of all those delectable curves.

  Lily flung out of the room at last, and Radulf sighed as the door closed. He had thought to simplify things by meeting with Anna; instead, they were even more complicated. He shut his eyes and wondered how he would extract himself from the mess.

  If only he were going into battle instead. Sometimes the sword was so much easier to wield than the tongue.

  Lily found Una in the kitchen, sleeves rolled high as she dealt with a huge mound of dough. “Lady, there is ale and warm bread for Lord Radulf. If he is well enough to eat…?”

  Lily sniffed. “I believe he is well able to eat, Una.” She began to gather together the items necessary for Radulf’s breakfast and the changing of his bandage, placing them upon a tray. In the other room Jervois was giving the men their instructions. He gave Lily a polite greeting, looking so tired and serious that her ill-temper drained from her.

  The matter was serious. Lord Kenton had as much as accused Radulf of murder. Radulf must defend himself, and without placing his king in a position where he must choose between his friend and Lord Kenton. Lily wondered if kings were really to be trusted in such a situation. They were just men, after all.

  What would happen to Radulf if Kenton was believed? Would he be arrested and flung into a dungeon? Would he have to fight? Would he have to die? How could she bear such a thing now, when she had just discovered her love for him? Better that she had not known such wonderous feelings, than that they should be taken from her so soon!

  She shivered and then readjusted her expression before she entered the bedchamber. It would not do for Radulf to realize how scared she was for him. Better that she bind his wound and feed him and send him off in good cheer.

  Radulf gave her a lazy smile as she closed the door behind her. Lily set down the tray and handed him the mug of ale. He swallowed it all without pause. When he’d finished, Lily rested her fingers briefly against his cheek.

  “The fever is gone,” she said. “I can see why some think you more than mortal.”

  “Ah, but you know better, mignonne.”

  Lily ignored him, unwrapping the bindings about his shoulder. The swelling about the joint had reduced but the flesh still appeared bruised and tender. Carefully, Lily smoothed more of her poultice upon it and rebound it, as he had requested, in a less bulky bandage. Meanwhile Radulf finished his bread and, after another mug of ale, swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Go and get Jervois,” he said. “I will wear my armor.”

  Lily’s eyes widened in alarm. “Radulf, it will cause you agony!”

  He shrugged, manipulating his shoulder carefully, circling it this way and then that. The eyes that turned to hers had lost all humor. “Better some discomfort than a blade through the heart, lady.”

  “Could it come to that?”

  He shrugged, winced, and stood up. Naked, he somehow seemed larger than ever, with his thickly muscled legs and broad chest, the breadth of his shoulders. The giant of legend, the indestructible Radulf.

  “I hope not. But if Kenton thinks I am to blame for his wife’s death, he may take matters into his own hands.” He reached for his breeches and paused, glancing at her sideways, almost slyly. “Would you care, Lily?”

  Lily blinked, caught her breath and released it slowly, letting go of her sense of terror and loss. He did not want to hear such things. It was the cool Lily he wanted, the untouchable Viking princess. “What use is a dead husband to me?” she asked calmly. “The Conqueror will only find me another.”

  He laughed as if he had expected it of her, and began to pull on the breeches. The curving muscles of his buttocks tightened with the movement. The skin of his broad back was scarred from battle but despite that, or maybe because of it, the urge to touch him was almost irresistible. Lily’s fingers clenched to stop them from reaching out…

  Abruptly she turned away.

  “I will fetch Jervois,” she said.

  Jervois, when he was told, heaved the heavy chain mail into his arms and carried it into the bedchamber. By the time Lily returned, Radulf was completely dressed, his face impassive despite its pallor. If she had not known he was hurt, she could never have guessed it. Gone was the man who had held her in the night and spoken of his boyhood suffering; this was the King’s Sword, and a stranger.

  When they went out to the waiting men, there was a grim silence. No grins and jokes today, no grumbles or complaints about being so far from home. Everyone waited to hear what he would say.

  “Jervois, you will remain here with Lady Wilfreda. If I am…detained, I will send word. If the matter is serious, you will take her south, to Crevitch. My people there will keep her safe, even from William.”

  Jervois bowed his head. “It will be as you say, Lord Radulf.”

  Lily stared at him, bewildered, her heart stuttering in her breast. Did he care so much, then? Did she mean so much that he would risk the king’s displeasure to see her secure?

  Despite the intensity of her gaze, Radulf kept his eyes fixed on Jervois. The next words, hastily manufactured to account for his great need to see her safe, slipped easily from his lips. “These are precautions, that is all. The lady may be carrying my child. My heir. Without an heir, all my wealth, all my estates will revert to the king. Therefore her value to me is beyond price.”

  Lily’s heart grew quiet, the flame in her dying. “Of course,” she murmured coolly. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Radulf looked about him now. “I will take half of you with me. Jervois, see to it. And see that my orders are carried out. I rely on you.”

  Jervois did as he was bid, leaving Lily and Radulf briefly together. Radulf turned stiffly and took her hand. “If all is well I will return to you soon.”

  “And if all is not well?”

  “Jervois will take care of you. Do not fear ill treatment at Crevitch, Lily. My people are loyal to me. I told you, I do not abandon mine.”

  “Your heir, you mean?” she asked quietly.

  He hesitated. “Aye…that is what I mean.”

  He lifted her hand abruptly, pressing his lips to her limp fingers. “Lady.”

  “My lord,” she whispered.

  And he was gone. Lily listened to the sound of horses and men outside, and then the departing cacophony of hooves and weapons and armor as they rode away.

  She wondered at the emptiness inside her, the sense of being bereft of something as urgent as air to breath or water to drink. Could Radulf really have become so important to her in so short a time? And what would happen to her if
he didn’t come back?

  Had she discovered her one great love only to lose it forever?

  Chapter 16

  The lengths of cloth had arrived from Jacob. Beautiful wools and linens and silks, and the gorgeous red velvet that Radulf had insisted upon. Lily and Una unwrapped them, and while Una fell silent with breathless wonder, Lily tried listlessly to work up some enthusiasm.

  “Lord Radulf must value you very highly, lady,” Una whispered, eyes enormous. “Most Normans are too stingy to dress their wives in finery like this. Are you sure he is not English?”

  Lily laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that, Una. Radulf is very proud of what he is. And Normans are always fond of show.”

  But her humor did not last long. Her mind was occupied with what was being said and done at William’s court, and whether at any moment a messenger might come to a sudden halt in front of the inn, shouting that Radulf had been taken prisoner. If that happened, she had no doubt Jervois would bundle her upon her horse and race her south. To Crevitch.

  Lily had thought to see Crevitch at his side. Not alone, running, mourning for her husband and lover, uncertain whether she would ever see him again…

  Una was still speaking, and Lily realized she hadn’t heard a single word. She must stop thinking such things. It wasn’t like her to be maudlin and teary, yet her emotions had been so up and down since she met Radulf. Hoping Una had not noticed her abstraction, Lily bent to inspect the lengths of cloth with something of her old enthusiasm.

  “I need sewing women,” she said, reverently brushing one finger over the velvet. “It will take me forever otherwise, even if you were kind enough to help me, Una.”

  Una lowered her eyes uneasily. “I’m not much good with a needle, my lady.”

  Lily reached to touch the other girl’s work-worn hand. “Perhaps the needle is not your skill, Una, but you make the best pastries in all of York.”

  Una smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “Aye, lady, I believe I do!”

  The two women were still engrossed in the rainbow of materials spread across the bed when Alice of Rennoc peeped into the chamber, a little flushed from encountering Jervois in the other room. She was welcomed with open arms, and Alice knew of two households from which it would be possible to borrow sewing women for Lily’s new wardrobe.

  Una, with a regretful sigh, left them to go about her tasks.

  “’Tis the color of ripe berries in autumn,” Alice breathed, when shown the red velvet. Afterward, however, Lily caught her friend giving her questioning glances. “I have heard the news about Lady Anna Kenton,” Alice admitted.

  “And no doubt heard that Radulf was responsible.” Lily was angry. “Well, I was there and she was alive when we left her. And you saw Radulf when we brought him home. He was too sore to do injury to anyone. This talk is nothing but lies, concocted by men jealous of his wealth and power, to harm his friendship with the king.”

  Alice gazed at her in wonder. “You are very passionate, Lily! I was only going to say that I don’t believe the things they are saying.”

  “Oh.” Chastened, Lily grew quieter. “I am a little ragged, Alice. Forgive me.”

  Alice looked at her curiously. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Startled, Lily’s eyes gazed at hers. If Alice could guess the truth so easily—

  But again Alice put her mind at rest. “You disguise it well, Lily. Perhaps it is just that I have known you since we were children.”

  What was the point in denying it? She did love him, unwisely, irrationally, and with all her heart.

  “Why don’t you want him to know?”

  Lily met Alice’s curious gaze. “If I give up all my secrets to him, I will have nothing left to shield me. Even in marriage…especially in marriage, one needs a shield. I learned that with Vorgen.”

  “Radulf is certainly a formidable man.” Alice was thoughtful. “But he seems honorable. He would not use your feelings against you, surely? You are his wife now.”

  There was no need for Alice to know of Radulf’s past, his distrust of women.

  “There is a difference between duty and love,” Lily replied with finality. “If I do not speak of it to him, then the hurt will be less if he turns his back on me.”

  Alice fiddled with a length of water-green silk. “You know him better than I, and you must do as you think best. At least you have a husband, and one who is young enough to be lusty. I fear it is Sir Othric for me.”

  Lily shuddered. “Sir Othric, your father’s friend? Oh no, Alice, he would not!”

  “He has warned me that if I do not find someone in York, then Sir Othric it will be.”

  “But I thought…Jervois…” Lily glanced away. “I’m sorry. I saw you and him, and I just—”

  “My father will see him as nothing more than a mercenary, and that is what he is. I want him as my husband and I think…I know, he wants me.” She hesitated, seeking words. “Lily, if Radulf would speak for Jervois, and assure my father he looked favorably upon the marriage…”

  Lily blinked. “Oh! I never thought…of course I can ask him! I forget sometimes he is not like Vorgen, who would refuse me something just for the pleasure of it. And I owe you far more than so small a favor, Alice. But why doesn’t Jervois ask Radulf himself?”

  Alice glowered, a difficult thing for her to manage. “He is a man, and he has his pride.”

  Lily winced with full understanding. She squeezed Alice’s hand. “I will ask. You cannot marry Sir Othric. The man is so repulsive that the king should make a law that he remain unwed until his dying day.”

  Alice grinned. “Aye, and after that as well!”

  Her hope restored, Alice shrugged off the somber mood they had fallen in to. “Come! Let us cut out one garment, at least! It will give us something to do, and take our minds off what is happening at the castle.”

  “What about this?” Alice lifted a fold of midnight blue wool. “And this for an undershift?” The linen was so fine that when she held it to the candlelight the cloth became almost invisible.

  Lily smiled. “Perfect!”

  She threw herself into the diversion. Anything to put Radulf from her mind, for a little time at least. Perhaps, when she allowed herself to remember, he would already be striding through the doorway.

  Safe.

  “What does Lord Radulf say to that?”

  As he spoke, William leaned forward in his chair. His body was tense and still, and his very stillness was so uncharacteristic that it made the two men before him edgy. Lord Kenton, small and bejeweled, his narrow, handsome face gray with grief and fatigue. And Radulf, big, dressed for battle, his black eyes full of a cold anger that had already sent William’s servants cowering.

  The court fell mute as he answered, everyone straining to hear the low, husky voice.

  “I say Lady Anna was nothing to me but a memory. Years ago she was wed to my father, but since then I have not seen her. Not until the night of my wedding, when she spoke to me and my wife.”

  “She was your whore.” Kenton cut in angrily, his voice higher, shriller. “She told me so. She was your whore in the past, and when you came to York you wanted her again. She said you did not care for your wife—the marriage was forced upon you. You wanted my Anna.”

  “‘Your Anna’ was lying.” Radulf sounded unruffled, but the blood pounded through his head, making it throb. His shoulder was aching like the devil, but he dared not show the slightest weakness before these crows. It was his strength, and the legends of it, that kept him safe.

  “Why should she lie?” Kenton’s pale eyes were blazing. “She had nothing to gain from it.”

  “Your jealousy,” Radulf replied mildly. “She played the same tricks upon my father, amusing herself by choosing favorites among the men of the household, driving him to greater and greater folly to please her. She wanted you to win her back, Kenton.”

  “Bah!” He waved a hand. The jewels on his fingers sparkled richly in the light of the tall cand
les.

  “I have already told my story,” Radulf went on calmly, speaking to the king. “I met with her because her behavior was upsetting my wife. I told her not to bother me again or I would go to her husband and disclose to him her faithlessness. I knew Kenton loved her and so did she, but she was not fool enough to believe he would keep forgiving her over and over. There comes a point where the wine of forgiveness is all drunk, and only dregs remain in the bottom of the cup. Maybe she had reached that point. My father did.”

  “What do you know of—” Kenton began scathingly, but William held up his hand for silence. Reluctantly, twitching his richly embroidered tunic, Kenton held back the angry words bubbling in his throat.

  William stroked his clean-shaven chin, eyes fixed upon the imposing figure of his Sword. “And Lady Anna took your advice in good part, Radulf?”

  Radulf snorted a laugh. “No, sire, she did not! She was angry and rode off. I did not see her again. I was only glad that she had gone. I returned to the inn with my men.”

  Kenton spun to face him, unable to contain his fury a moment longer. “You followed her and slew her! Because she would not give in to your lustful demands! She loved you once, Radulf, and you could not let her go.”

  Radulf ground his teeth. “In God’s name, you have seen my wife! If I have ‘lustful demands,’ do you not think she can more than adequately meet them?”

  William smiled, bowing his head to hide it, but Lord Kenton saw. He glared savagely from one to the other. “I see I will get no fair hearing here. It is well known the king and Radulf are more like brothers than master and subject.”

  William stood up. His height, though not as great as Radulf’s, was imposing enough. To his credit, Kenton stood his ground, although it was clear he was half regretting his outburst.

  “I will forgive you those remarks,” William said softly, almost gently, his eyes steely. “I understand your grief, Kenton. I, too, have a wife I treasure. You have spoken what is in your heart and mind, and I have listened. Depend upon me, I will not rest until I have found your wife’s murderer. However…I do not believe he is to be found here.”