by Sara Bennett
Lord Henry was to begin on the castle foundations, and Radulf sent him serfs and skilled men to do the work. “Though I cannot expect him to remain in the north doing my bidding, when he has lands of his own in the south, awaiting his return,” Radulf told Lily. He stroked the scar near his eye, watching as she put the finishing touches to her costume.
In honor of the king’s final evening in York, she was wearing the red velvet. Her skin and hair were so pale against the deep, rich color that they appeared almost translucent. Yet despite her unearthly air, there was a voluptuousness about her tonight, a flush on her cheeks and her lips, a glitter to her eyes, while beneath the smooth gown her body swelled full and opulent.
Radulf felt his pulse quicken, though he continued to speak as if it had not. “When I go north you will remain here in York. As soon as I return, we will go south, to Crevitch. I have been away too long.”
Lily turned her head to look at him. She was like an idol, he thought. Some Viking fertility goddess, luring him into lustful madness with her cool beauty. He felt his manhood twitch and almost groaned aloud. She would probably kill him with overuse, but he had no complaint. He was more than happy with the manner of death.
“I would rather come with you, lord,” she said quietly.
Radulf blinked, trying to remember his words of a few moments ago. Crevitch, was that it?
“You are coming with me, mignonne.”
“No, I don’t mean to Crevitch. I mean north, to my lands, to my people. They need me. I thought that was why the king ordered us to marry, so that I could help bring peace to the north. I should be with you.”
He frowned, his head clearing with a jolt. “Should you? Or do you want to run for the border and join Hew and his bloodthirsty Scots?” He spoke before he could stop himself, but the fear was real enough. He often wondered, in some dark corner of his mind, if she might try and run away from him again. Was all of this but an interlude, a pretty memory to take out and examine when he was an old, embittered man?
For a moment Lily looked as if he had struck her, then she was herself again. The ice queen, her gray Viking eyes daring him to show weakness.
“Why would I do that, Radulf? My running to Hew would not help my people. They will starve this winter if you do not see to food and shelter for them. I believe you will do that, if I can persuade them to trust you.”
Radulf raised his eyebrows. “You are very sure they will listen to you.”
Lily smiled, her red lips curving very slightly, her eyes downcast. Radulf clenched his hands on his thighs in case he grabbed her and kissed her to silence. A man of his stature, he thought irritably, should have more control.
She lifted her gaze and fixed it on his. “Oh, they will listen, Radulf. They have always listened. It was just that Vorgen would not allow me to speak.”
He let his gaze run over her, slowly following the curve of her breasts, her narrow waist, the flare of her rounded hips. His eyes returned again to her face, the full moist swell of her bottom lip, the dark brows slanting above her pale eyes, the fairy-silver of her hair.
He could not risk losing her.
He shook his head.
“No, lady, I will not take you with me.”
Something sparkled briefly in her eyes, but it was gone too swiftly for him to read. Sorrow? Anger? He could not tell. He did not care. The thought of his beautiful Lily in the harsh north, possibly in danger, possibly kidnapped by her cousin or tempted to run…No, everything in him rebeled.
“Come.” He stood up and held out his hand. “It is time we went to say our goodbyes to the king.”
Lily rose and placed her fingers obediently in his. He drew her to him, enjoying the feel of her body, the taste of her mouth. She softened against him, allowing him his pleasure, and yet…She was distant. It was nothing he could isolate, but she seemed to have removed a part of herself. Because he had refused her what she wanted.
It made him angry. As they rode off, he wanted to spur his black horse into a gallop, but he restrained himself. He was Lord Radulf and therefore above such petty vengeance. If Lily thought she could make him change his mind by sulking—which was what she was doing, more or less—then she was sadly mistaken. Radulf would travel north, but Lily would remain here in York.
Safe.
The king eyed Radulf’s wife appreciatively. “If all the women in the north are like you, lady, I will have no difficulty in fulfilling my command that single men find English wives!”
Radulf smiled without humor. “Lily is unique, sire. It is I who am fortunate.”
Lily flicked him a look, the anger making her eyes darker, stormier. He smiled to himself. Ah, so the frigid distance was in danger of cracking already. Like ice under the warm sun.
“Well, Radulf, you and your men will soon be able to put that to the test,” the king went on, shifting from foot to foot, as if he wanted to be doing something more than standing, talking. “A rider has come from Lord Henry. He arrived an hour since.”
Radulf stilled. “An hour ago? Why wasn’t I told?”
William waved an impatient hand. “An hour matters not, Radulf. Lord Henry sends word that there is an army marching in his direction from the southwest. I think you had best make haste to meet it.”
Lily gasped, the sound distracting Radulf briefly. “Where is this messenger?” he demanded. “I would speak with him.”
The king eyed him fondly. “All in good time, my friend.”
“But…where does this army come from? I have dispersed the rebels, and the English have been quiet ever since. Apart from Hew—” He stopped, his brows coming down in a ferocious scowl.
“Lord Henry feels it may well be this Hew, and that he has found himself well-trained men this time, not just rabble. You will have a proper battle on your hands, Radulf. A contest worthy of the King’s Sword,” William added smugly.
Radulf was more interested in the details. “Where has this army of men come from?” he growled. “There were barely enough of Hew’s supporters left to pour wine at our feast tonight! Are the Danes back? I thought you had paid them to go away. Has the Scottish king sent them? I thought Malcolm was cannier than that.”
King William’s eyes were hard and bright. “No, I fear Hew has found his army closer to home, Radulf. You have an enemy…remember?”
Radulf appeared uncomprehending, and then realization struck. “Kenton?” he breathed. “But surely, William, he would not commit treason to revenge himself upon me? For her?”
He had called the king by name in his shock and amazement, but either William didn’t notice or chose not to.
“And yet, Radulf, it seems he has. My spies were too late to prevent it from happening, but they tell me that Lord Kenton went straight from here to Hew and offered him as many men as he wanted. Kenton’s lands are close enough and the weather is good. It will not take them long to reach their destination.
“He hates you, Radulf. Although we have not yet found Lady Anna’s murderer, Lord Kenton blames you. He wants to see you beaten and humiliated. He might really think he can win the north from you. Perhaps he will try to take your wife, as he believes you took his.”
Radulf’s jaw hardened. “I will stop him.”
William nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, “you will.”
Lily was frozen to the spot. Hew meant to make war again in the north. And Radulf would fight him.
For a moment the brightly decorated hall with its many candles seemed to waver and dance about her. With an immense effort of will, Lily prevented herself from fainting. Fainting, she thought furiously, would accomplish nothing. Words would.
“Hew thinks only of winning,” she said loudly. “He does not care how many lives he destroys in the process. He will draw men and boys to him because he is English, and tells them he fights for their freedom and has their well-being at heart. He will lie.”
Silence. Radulf was glaring at her as if he wanted her to be quiet. Lily ignored him. The king was listening
, and that was all that mattered.
“If I go with Lord Radulf, and speak, those men and boys will listen to me. If they do not, then their wives and mothers will. Hew has the advantage of familiarity. Lord Radulf has not, except through the tales that are told about him, and they do not inspire confidence. How can frightened and starving people rally to a giant, or a warrior whose sword arm never tires, or a monster who eats their children? They will run from Radulf! But if I am there by his side, then they will question such tales. They will listen to me and see Radulf as he truly is rather than as he is portrayed in legend. Sire, I must go with Lord Radulf. We must prevent another long war in the north. My country, my people, cannot bear it.”
King William was stroking his clean-shaven chin. “You speak sense, lady. This was, after all, why I married you to my Sword.” A swift, mocking glance at Radulf. “If you are seen to support Radulf and encourage the obedience of your people to him, then many more will follow in your steps. Yes! You make good sense, lady. What say you, Radulf?”
Radulf looked as if he wanted to say a great deal. “No.”
William blinked in surprise, then his expression quickly darkened. “You are overhasty, my lord. I like the idea. Your lady will go with you and see what she can do to help disperse any rebels tempted to join Lord Kenton’s force. You will have your hands full defeating them as it is, without their army growing any greater. Do you not trust her?”
This last was spoken very softly, for Radulf and Lily alone. Radulf hesitated, and felt Lily stiffen at his side. “She is my wife,” he said slowly. “I trust her as much as she trusts me.”
William slapped his shoulder, a blow so hard that it shifted Radulf forward an inch or two. “Well, then! She goes with you. Peace, Radulf, that is what we need. Peace! First defeat Kenton’s army, and then I will deal with the man himself.”
When Radulf bowed, William clasped his hand. “I will not insult you by asking that you take care.”
“Aye,” sighed Radulf, “I am immortal, sire, remember?”
The king and Radulf had discussed how many men were available to fight at such short notice, and how many of the closer landowners would send troops. Because it had all happened so fast, Radulf’s army would not be as large as he wished. Radulf had then spoken to Lord Henry’s man, questioning him until he had extracted every ounce of information from him.
Now they were awaiting their horses outside William’s castle, standing in the chill darkness while torches flared from sconces on the walls. The air smelled of the river and the sweet blossoms of some unseen tree.
“We will leave at first light,” Radulf informed Jervois. “There will be no dallying on the journey this time. It appears Lord Henry is outnumbered, and even when we reach him, we may still be outnumbered—but that has never stopped us before.”
His smile was savage; his eyes shone black in the firelight. Lily looked up at his big, tough body and understood why his name was the stuff of folklore.
“Aye, sir.” Jervois chimed in with a bloodthirsty laugh. “We will finish them off once and for all. This Hew’s head would make a fine ornament on the Bootham Gate.”
Lily thought of Hew’s pretty face and fine blond hair and was neither sickened nor shocked. He deserved to die. So many lives had already been lost because of his lies and greed. Now her plan for a peaceful and prosperous north was in the balance. “As long as it is not your head upon the gate, Radulf, or yours, Jervois, I do not care.”
The two men looked at Lily in surprise. Jervois, she noticed, then became lost in thought. After he had gone to hurry the grooms with the horses, Radulf said, “You would not weep for Hew?”
Lily shook her head. “No, I would not. If I wanted him to win I wouldn’t be coming north with you.”
Radulf shifted. She knew he was angry—she could read it in his tight mouth and hard eyes—but she reminded herself that his anger was unimportant when she had such an enormous task to accomplish.
Radulf must fight a battle and Lily must save her people. Right now, even the love she felt for him was unimportant. And yet…
“You told the king you trusted me.” The words burst out of her.
“As much as you trust me,” he reminded her. “How much do you trust me, Lily?”
Her throat went dry. She trusted him more than any other man she had known since her father’s death, but her streak of self-preservation was too well developed for her to tell him so.
He spoke again when she didn’t answer, his tone deceptively mild and unconcerned. “I will take you with me, and you will do what you promised to do. We will both obey the king and see this matter brought to an end. And then we will go home to Crevitch, and it will all be forgotten.”
He was offering her a truce.
She smiled, her lips trembling. “Very well, my lord. The north, and then to Crevitch.”
They were barely inside the house when Radulf began shouting orders and Lily began hurrying to pack. Jervois had felt dazed until then. He had been dazed since Lily said, in a strange sort of jest, that he might end up with his head upon Bootham Gate. As his horse had galloped through York’s narrow streets he had been able to think of nothing else.
If he died, Alice would have to wed Sir Othric! He remembered the man well, a hideous figure with warts on his face. He might have been a creature of pity, only he was so full of his own importance it was impossible to feel sorry for him. Sir Othric would have found such a thing incomprehensible.
The fact of Alice marrying that repulsive old man hadn’t seemed real until now. It had been a blur, but suddenly it took on a sharp and distinctive edge.
As Radulf strode toward the hall, Jervois stepped in front of him. “My lord.”
Radulf halted, frowning down at him.
Jervois swallowed. “My lord, I…I beg you to…that is, I have a boon to ask of you.” He was red; he felt the fire in his face.
Radulf watched him with some concern. “What is it, Jervois? Are you ill?”
“Alice of Rennoc,” he got out, somehow.
Radulf’s eyes lost their worried expression. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You want to gobble her up?”
Jervois stepped back a pace, green eyes blazing. “My lord!”
“Nay, calm yourself. ’Twas…a private jest.” Radulf assumed a more serious demeanor. “Aye, Jervois, have her to wife if you want. We will find you some part of my estates to watch over. Go tell her uncle, in case he weds her to someone else while we are gone.”
Jervois felt dizzy with relief, but he was not finished yet. “If I die in battle, my lord—”
Radulf frowned. “If you are slain then I will take care the girl does not wed against her will. My lady would probably be glad of her company at Crevitch. Worry not, my friend, all will be taken care of.”
Jervois smiled. Without his habitual seriousness, his face looked suddenly young and transformed. “Thank you, Lord Radulf!” he said fervently.
Radulf shook his head as his captain hurried away to Alice of Rennoc’s uncle. He had been thinking himself the only fool in the house; it was comforting to know there was another.
Lily straightened her spine, staring straight ahead. They had traveled hard and fast, and if she hadn’t been young and strong and fit, she would have feared for her child. As it was, she was merely exhausted every night when she crawled under the furs inside Radulf’s tent.
Sometimes he was very late coming to bed, remaining outside with his men and Jervois. But when he did come, his arms were warm and iron hard, and they held her safe. Often he caressed her until she squirmed and pleaded, then he mounted her and covered her mouth with his to take her cries as she crested wave after wave of singing pleasure. And every morning he woke her, laughing at her bleary eyes and tangled hair.
“Up, sleepyhead,” he mocked. “You wanted to come. Remember?”
Sometimes Lily thought she hated him…when she wasn’t loving him.
As they passed through the little villages a
nd settlements, Lily spoke to the people. She smiled with them and sympathized with them, and she told them about Radulf, her husband, and her hopes for peace in the north. A peace they were unlikely to have under Hew’s rule.
Did they listen to her? She thought so, she hoped so, but only time would tell.
As they drew closer to Grimswade and Radulf’s camp under the command of Lord Henry, the countryside appeared quieter, sometimes deserted. Those who did remain watched them suspiciously and when Lily tried to speak with them, took to their heels or hid in the ruins of their houses. Her heart ached for them.
She began so many sentences with, “If I could only tell them!” that Radulf should have grown tired of hearing it. But he was more patient than she could have imagined. He listened to her, and held her, and once when she wept with sorrow over the burned bodies of a family trapped in a farm cottage, he lifted her upon his lap and rocked her, his lips warm and soft against her hair.
“You have done all you can,” he comforted her. “Now it is up to me. Believe in me, mignonne. I am strong. I will win this battle, just as I have won all the rest.”
She did believe in him, and yet the fear would not leave her. Was it because she loved him so much? Whatever the real reason for her deep anxiety, she admitted to herself that if Radulf were killed, then her own life would be over, as well as that of the child he did not even know existed. Many times Lily thought of telling him about the baby, but just as often she stopped herself. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, that inner voice insisted. Why should she add to his worries when he already had so many?
No, she justified to herself, it wasn’t fair to tell him just now.
The camp at Grimswade hadn’t changed. The tents stretched on endlessly, a haze of smoke hanging over them as the occupants cooked their meals and warmed their hands and feet. A scout had spotted the armed band, and upon recognizing Lord Radulf, could not prevent a grin of utter relief. He accompanied them jauntily through the cheering men, and once again Lily realized how popular Radulf was among his own people. If only her people could see such a scene as this, they would be begging to take up arms against Hew.
