Shield of Kronos

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Lyssa dared to look up again, right at Garret, only to see that his focus was still on her. Vastly mortified, she lowered her gaze again, feeling like a fool that he’d caught her looking at him again.

  “Y-You are beautiful and you come from a fine family,” she said, grabbing at her chalice and talking a huge swallow of wine. “I-I am sure he would not reject a de Nerra.”

  Juliana took a big swallow because Lyssa was. They were never given the chance to drink like this, freely, and Juliana wanted to take advantage of it.

  “I am too fearful to find out,” she admitted. But her flighty attention moved away from de Moray to the contents of the enormous hall, filled with a thousand men and women, all of them enjoying themselves. But something emerging into the hall off to the left of the royal dais caught her attention. “Look! Entertainment!”

  Lyssa turned her attention to the area Juliana was indicating. A troop of brightly-colored, dark-skinned people were running out into the center of the vast hall, jumping in the air, shouting and causing a ruckus. They were clad in elaborate costumes with feathers on their heads, and they were followed into the hall by a row of drummers. As the drummers began to beat a loud, primal cadence, the troop of entertainers began gyrating in a complex and exciting dance.

  The loud buzz of conversation in the hall fell to a soft hum when the dark-skinned dancers began their show. Men leaped in the air as women spun in circles, their flowing skirts billowing up. Someone produced a ring of wood and a man with a torch lit it. Flames shot up from the circle as the men in the bright costumes launched themselves through it in a daring feat of bravery. It was all quite exciting and Lyssa, as well as everyone else, watched with fascination.

  But the buzz of conversation in the hall soon rose again, even as the entertainers performed in the middle of the room, and Lyssa’s attention eventually drifted to Garret purely to see if he was still standing at the end of the table. She couldn’t seem to get her mind away from him. He was still there, and Rickard de Moray’s wife, Tristiana, had joined the conversation. The pregnant woman was laughing with her husband and brother-in-law, and Lyssa envied the woman greatly. What she wouldn’t give to be standing there, laughing with Garret, too. The more she thought about the man, the more intrigued she became.

  More food was brought out to their table and her attention was diverted as servants placed a beautiful almond pudding on the table, garnished with honeyed rose petals. A servant began to dish up slabs of it with a big knife but just as Lyssa received hers, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Lyssa, Lady de Nantes wishes to speak with you.”

  Lyssa turned to see the duchess’ premier lady-in-waiting, and Lyssa’s own aunt, Lady Rose de Barenton. Rose was an older woman, a childless spinster, who had served the young duchess ever since her marriage to the duke. She was more like a mother to the duchess than an actual lady-in-waiting, and ran an efficient and tight house and hold with the duchess’ permission. Rose loved her aunt but the woman could be rather stuffy and strict at times. She forced a smile.

  “O-Of course,” she said, rising from the bench. “D-Do you know what she would have of me, Auntie?”

  Rose looked oddly strained, even more than usual. She took her niece by the hand. “I am not for certain,” she said quietly, pulling her along. “But I believe it has something to do with the prince’s wife.”

  Lyssa looked at her in surprise. “H-Hawisa?” she said. “W-What do I have to do with her?”

  Rose’s gaze was on the far end of the table where the Duke and Duchess of Colchester were talking to several other finely-dressed people. There was a cluster of them. In fact, there were so many people around the duke and duchess, holding their attention, that Rose came to an abrupt halt. When Lyssa looked at her, curiously, the woman turned on her heel and began dragging her niece in the opposite direction.

  “I cannot know what Hawisa would request of you, but it cannot be good,” she muttered. “I cannot take you to them in good conscience. I will tell them that you have taken sick and are returning to The Wix. Forgive me, Lyssie, but nothing they can want of you would be proper or decent. You know of the prince and his wife; you know what they stand for. You must go home and remain there. I did not want you to come tonight in the first place, but the duchess insisted that all of her ladies attend.”

  Now Lyssa was feeling some fear. She wanted to look back at the head of the table where the duke and duchess were, but she didn’t dare. She knew what her aunt was referring to, the debauchery and brutality that surrounded the prince and his wife, but it was something that really wasn’t spoken of. Only rumors, really. But now, Rose was voicing those rumors, giving them credence, and Lyssa was growing nervous. Her aunt pulled her to the opposite side of the table where Rickard, Tristiana, and Garret were still standing.

  Lyssa could feel her heart pounding as they approached the man she’d been trying not to stare at all evening.

  The greatest knight in all of England.

  When he looked at her, Lyssa could feel her knees turn to jelly.

  *

  Truth be told, Garret knew Lyssa had been looking at him, but he’d been looking at her, too. He wondered if his expression alone would convey his interest but she kept looking away from him every time their eyes would meet. Like some coy game, their gazes never quite met, leaving Garret the slightest bit desperate to catch the woman’s attention.

  It had been difficult to keep his focus on his brother. Rickard de Moray was seventeen months older than his brother, about twenty pounds heavier, and two inches shorter. He was an excellent knight, powerful and brave, and had the de Moray black eyes that everyone else in the family had. He had a ready laugh and an excellent command presence, just as his brother did, and Garret adored the man. Times like this, where they were able to talk between them, were far and few between, but Garret was distracted by a beautiful woman. It didn’t take Rickard long to figure out where his brother’s attention was.

  “Did you hear me, Garret?” he asked.

  Garret was looking at him but he had a faraway expression. It took him a moment to realize his brother had addressed him. “Aye, I heard you.”

  “What did I say?”

  Garret took a healthy gulp from his cup. “You were speaking of your son, soon to be born.”

  Rickard snorted. “Aye, I spoke of him several minutes ago,” he said. “I was speaking of the nobles now flocking to Normandy and the king’s re-conquest campaign. I’ve heard the de Lohrs are heading there.”

  “Oh?”

  Rickard grinned and shook his head. “God’s Bones, Garret,” he said. “I realize that I am not nearly as fascinating as Lady Lyssa, but the least you could do is pretend to be interested in what I am saying.”

  Garret looked at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Is it that obvious?” he asked casually.

  Rickard nodded firmly. “It is,” he said. “And I do not blame you. She has every man at Colchester hot and bothered, if you know what I mean, including the duke. It is not a good situation.”

  The glimmer faded from Garret’s eye. “What do you mean?”

  Rickard’s gaze moved down the table where the lovely Lady Lyssa was sitting with another young lady-in-waiting. “She came to Colchester only a few months ago,” he muttered. “She caught the duke’s attention right away. Look at her; you can see how beautiful she is. But the duchess has tried everything she can possibly do to keep Lady Lyssa out of her husband’s sight or, at the very least, out of his mind. She dresses the girl in shapeless clothing, keeps her confined to rooms with sewing projects for weeks on end. Lady Lyssa is the niece of Lady Rose, who has more or less been a mother to the duchess, and when the duchess agreed to allow Lady Lyssa to come to Colchester, she had no idea just how beautiful the girl was. My wife says that the duchess is terribly jealous of her.”

  Garret thought that all sounded like a very unhappy situation. “Is she cruel to Lady Lyssa?”

  Rickard shook his head. “Not from wha
t I have seen,” he said. “But she does keep the girl out of sight. Other than stare at the woman, I’ve not seen the duke make any move towards her, but he’s a bastard with little self-control. Unless the duchess can keep a tight rein on him, Lady Lyssa may not be a permanent resident of the House of de Nantes. The duchess will be forced to send her away.”

  So the lovely woman with the catch in her speech had a rather sad existence at Colchester. Garret digested that information. “Do you know where she comes from?”

  Rickard shook his head. “I have never asked,” he said. “Tristiana has not mentioned it. Ah, look at my lovely wife. She is coming to join us.”

  Garret turned to see his brother’s wife coming upon them. Tristiana de Dere de Moray beamed at her husband and brother-in-law as she approached, a petite woman who was quite round with pregnancy. It was her second pregnancy in two years, the first child having been stillborn. Garret bent over to kiss the woman on the cheek in greeting.

  “Tristiana,” he said. “You are looking lovely. How is my nephew these days?”

  Tristiana rubbed at her swollen belly through the layers of fabric she was wearing. “He is ready to fight with his father already,” she said. “He keeps me up at night and sleeps during the day. I am exhausted.”

  Garret grinned. “I look forward to meeting him next month,” he said. “And Garret is a marvelous name for him, by the way. I strongly recommend it.”

  Tristiana laughed softly. “You will have to take that up with your brother,” she said. “For my part, I wish to name him Dag, after my father, but Rickard is not in complete agreement.”

  Garret looked at his brother. “God’s Bones, Rickard, she is the one doing all the work when it comes to bearing your son,” he pointed out. “Let the woman name the child. It is the least you can do for forcing her to carry your enormous son.”

  Rickard sneered at him. “Very well. I was considering naming him Garret, after you, but I will reconsider that now. Dag is a better name than Garret, anyway.”

  Garret laughed. “It is not and you know it,” he said, seeing Tristiana’s unhappy face. He quickly sought to make amends. “What I meant to say is that Dag is perfect, my lady, truly.”

  As Tristiana’s smile returned, Garret made a face at his brother when she wasn’t looking, letting him know just what he thought of that name. As Rickard tried not to let his wife see him laugh, they were interrupted when Lady Rose, the duchess’ premier lady-in-waiting, suddenly joined them. And she wasn’t alone. Garret found himself looking straight at Lyssa, held firmly in her aunt’s grip.

  His heart leaped at the sight of her.

  “Sir Rickard,” Rose said quietly, getting the man’s attention. “I need your assistance. You must take my niece back to The Wix at once. She must not be here.”

  Rickard looked at her with concern. “What has happened?” he asked.

  Rose eyed the man with an expression that was serious, indeed. “Hawisa has asked for Lyssa,” she said simply. “You must remove her from this place.”

  Rickard set his cup down, looking over his shoulder to the far end of the table where his liege was in conversation with some of the prince’s men. He didn’t question Rose further; he knew what she meant. Suddenly, there was tension in the air where moments before had only been pleasant conversation. Where John and Hawisa were concerned, there was always tension.

  “We knew it was only a matter of time,” he said quietly, reaching out to grasp Lyssa’s elbow. “If they have not seen Lady Lyssa, then they will see Juliana or one of the others. It is fresh meat to them and I would like to remove all of the young women from this den of depravity if I could. But I must not leave. I will have one of my men take Lady Lyssa.”

  “I will do it,” Garret said. As everyone looked to him, surprised that he should offer, he set his cup down and reached out to take Lyssa from his brother. “Make sure I am not followed, for if she has been sighted….”

  “They will want her.”

  “Exactly.”

  Rickard nodded, positioning his body so that it would block most of the view from the opposite end of the table.

  “You know where The Wix is, Garret,” he said. “Thank you for returning her.”

  Garret simply nodded. “Watch my back, Brother.”

  “You know I will.”

  With that, Lyssa was abruptly whisked through the great hall and out of a servant’s entrance that was nearest to them. It all passed in a blur. In fact, Lyssa was pulled through people, pulled into the shadows, and suddenly they were outside on the torch-lit grounds of Westminster.

  It was cool outside now that the sun had set but the humidity from the river was still heavy in the air. A bit frightened, and quite confused, Lyssa felt she was being dragged away under the cover of darkness, being hustled to safety from unseen forces that were out to do her harm. Garret was moving swiftly and she was struggling to keep up. In the darkness, she tripped, and he came to an instant halt.

  “Are you well?” he asked, concern in his voice as he held her steady. “Did you injure yourself?”

  Lyssa shook her head. “N-Nay,” she said. “B-But I do not understand. W-Why must I be removed from the hall?”

  Garret looked at her, seeing that she was both disappointed and fearful. She also looked as if she had no idea what was happening and it occurred to him that he’d all but carried her from the hall in his haste. He was so accustomed to acting swiftly and decisively when it came to Prince John and his corrupt wife that he’d had no thought to discuss his actions with the lady, in any fashion.

  “Has no one told you why, my lady? Surely someone has told you something.”

  She shrugged, looking back at the hall and the open door they’d come through. “I-If I may be honest, all we have heard is rumor,” she said. “T-Truthfully, I do not even know the woman. I-I have not even seen her nor have I been introduced to her.”

  “Hopefully, you will never have to meet her. That is what we are trying to avoid.”

  “A-Are the rumors true, then?”

  “What did you hear?”

  Lyssa hesitated and he hastened to reassure her. “I do not serve the prince, my lady,” he said. “I serve his brother, so you may speak freely.”

  Lyssa still appeared hesitant. “U-Unsavory things. S-Someone told me that Hawisa… I know it is ridiculous… but someone told me that she drinks the blood of virgins.”

  Garret hadn’t heard that one. Unfortunately, given Hawisa’s reputation, he wouldn’t have been surprised had it been true. “I do not know if that particular habit is true, but she is not someone an innocent young woman should know.”

  “T-Then I truly must leave the party?”

  Garret’s attention moved to the open door. He could see people moving around inside the hall but he wasn’t inclined to stand here, in full view of that open door. If John or Hawisa’s people were to follow, that would not be a good thing for either him or for the lady. His hand was still on her elbow as he pulled her out of the line of sight from the door. There was a wall in front of them with a small postern gate that led into the cemetery for Westminster Cathedral. He took her straight through that gate, shutting it behind them.

  “I do apologize, my lady,” he said, “but it is for your own safety. What else have you heard about the prince and his wife?”

  It was very dark where they were, with the cemetery off to their left. With the giant cathedral to her right, looming over her in the darkness, she felt rather frightened by the entire situation.

  “O-Only gossip, as I have said,” she admitted. “A-Are you sure you will not tell them?”

  “I swear on my oath.”

  That was good enough for Lyssa. “I-I have heard tale that if the prince sees a woman he fancies, then he demands that she is brought to him and she is.”

  Garret grunted. “That is putting it mildly. My lady, forgive me for being so bold, but if he sees a woman he wishes to take advantage of, it does not matter if she is a man’s virgin d
aughter or his wife. If he demands her, he shall have her.”

  Lyssa looked up at him. “H-Have her?”

  Garret glanced around their surroundings to make sure they weren’t being followed. “Indeed.”

  “F-For what purpose?”

  He looked at her then, hardly believing she was so naïve. “To bed her, of course.”

  Lyssa’s eyes widened. “B-But he has a wife!”

  Garret cocked an eyebrow. “You have been living a sheltered little life, haven’t you?”

  Lyssa felt foolish the way he’d said it. “I-I have lived a proper one, if that is what you mean,” she said stiffly.

  It was quiet in the yard and dark. From what Garret could tell, they had not been followed. At least, he didn’t see anyone. But rather than rush this ravishing creature back to The Wix, he selfishly wanted to have her to himself for the moment. He hadn’t gotten the chance to do it in the hall, which he had been hoping for, so now was the perfect time.

  He was an opportunist.

  Garret’s gaze lingered on her in the darkness. The only light was that from the half-moon above and the torches in the palace yard where the hall was. He found himself gazing at the perfectly lovely little face, becoming increasingly enchanted by it.

  “I did not mean to insinuate otherwise, my lady,” he said quietly. “I have never thought you were anything other than a proper and noble young woman from a fine family. May I ask how you came into the service of the Duchess of Colchester?”

  It was a polite enough question. “M-My aunt has served Colchester since before the duchess married the duke,” she said. “I-It is rather complicated how I came to serve the duchess, but suffice it to say that my mother left my father a very long time ago. H-He was a warlord with properties in France, near Limoges. He married my mother, who was the daughter of a great Welsh warlord, simply for the dowry. S-She went to live with him in France but, after I was born, she returned home. W-When she died earlier this year, my Aunt Rose brought me live with her and serve the duchess.”