Symond smiled, all visages of shyness gone. “’Tis exactly what I am, my boy,” he stated, pride evident in his voice and bearing.
Merryn saw he visibly relaxed in the child’s presence. It gave her an idea.
“Sir Symond Benedict, allow me to introduce my son Ancel. Ancel, Sir Symond is a knight in our king’s royal guard.”
Ancel’s eyes lit up in excitement. “I met the king. When I was a little boy.” He puffed up as a peacock. “And he’s coming again to Kinwick.” He waved his weapon about. “I shall show him my sword.”
“Don’t challenge him to fight, Ancel,” Symond warned. “Our king is a fine warrior. The best I have seen with a sword. Just because you’re a mere boy, he would not go easy on you.”
Ancel thought on his words. “Could you teach me to fight? My cousin made me this sword, but he’s only shown me a little bit.”
Symond nodded thoughtfully. “I could do that.” He looked to Merryn. “If your mother approves.”
“Oh, Mother, please. Please. Sir Symond is an important knight. I’m sure he’s fought in all kinds of battles, just as Father did. I want him to teach me.”
Merryn knelt and put her hands on her son’s shoulders. “I trust that if Sir Symond decides to act as your tutor in swordplay, you will listen carefully to him.”
“Yes!”
“And no matter what he says, you will do as he asks?”
“Yes!”
She gave him a squeeze. “Then why don’t you take him to the training yard where the exercises occur. He can show you some of—”
“I want to learn swordplay, Mother,” a voice called out. “May I go?”
Merryn stood as Alys eagerly ran to join them. “Sir Symond, this is my daughter Alys. She voiced her interest to me earlier today in learning to defend herself.”
“You don’t have a sword,” Ancel taunted.
“I can share yours!” she cried.
“No, ‘tis mine,” her brother said stubbornly. “Raynor made it for me. Not a girl.”
“But Mother said he can make me one. And I can share yours till he does. Isn’t that right, Mother?” Alys’s blue eyes pleaded her case as much as her words.
“I think ‘tis a fine idea for a girl to know how to defend herself,” Symond interjected. “And I can tell Ancel is a good boy who will be a decent sort and allow his sister to learn alongside him. ‘Tis the way of brothers, to look out for their younger sisters.”
“I’m older than Ancel,” Alys informed him.
“By a minute,” Ancel said.
“But I’m still older.”
“Children,” Merryn said sternly. Both quieted immediately. “Sir Symond is our guest. Neither he nor I will put up with arguing of any kind. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mother,” the twins mumbled.
“If Sir Symond agrees to take you both on, you will follow his instructions without question?”
They nodded, their eyes hopeful.
She looked at their guest. “Are you capable of handling them both, sir?”
He gave her a smile. “Indeed, Lady Merryn. I handled the French, and they were more argumentative than these two.” Symond looked down at the twins. “You may show me the place where we can train. And we shall walk. No running allowed.”
Immediately, the twins each took one of his hands.
Merryn laughed. “I think mayhap in an hour you might choose to take a bit of that rest I recommended.”
“I may, my lady.”
She watched the children lead him off, chattering away.
Now she could see to her tasks at hand.
***
Merryn’s nerves were on edge as she slipped down the steps leading away from the keep. She pulled her cloak more tightly about her. The evening air chilled her as she headed through the inner and outer baileys and toward the gate.
It had taken her longer to return to Geoffrey and Raynor than she anticipated since she’d been interrupted several times, but she’d finally been able to rendezvous with them in the woods. She hadn’t stayed to see Geoffrey dressed and fed, begging off for duties at Kinwick that needed her attention.
Geoffrey hadn’t seem to notice her distress. He fell upon the food she had brought like a starved animal. Raynor knew her well and noticed that something was amiss, but she didn’t want to explain the complicated situation with Geoffrey present. She’d excused herself and returned to the castle.
Merryn ate with Symond Benedict by her side, sharing her trencher. He did not make much conversation, of which she was thankful. Ancel and Alys made up for the lapse of talk by telling her of their lesson with Sir Symond. She’d told him how grateful she was for his interest in the twins.
“I am interested in everything about Kinwick,” he’d murmured softly, sending dread through her.
She hadn’t time to worry what a mess was being created. And she hadn’t found a spare moment to pen a letter to the king, informing him of Geoffrey’s remarkable return. That would have to wait. She needed to see him safe within the walls of Kinwick.
Now Merryn waited in the darkest of night. For her husband and Raynor’s return.
She heard a voice call out and the response from the watchtower. After a moment, the gates began to open. Merryn moved to meet the two men.
They appeared next to one another as they hurried through the opening. Geoffrey kept his face buried deeply in the folds of his cloak. Raynor had pushed his aside so the gatekeeper could easily recognize him and grant them entrance. They walked quickly as she motioned them to come with her. She wondered what ran through her husband’s mind as he ascended the steps of his home after so long a time.
They entered the keep. All were fast asleep as they passed the doors leading to the Great Hall. Out of a long ago habit, Merryn reached and took Geoffrey’s hand. She sensed him stiffen at her touch, but he did not shake it away. She felt a small victory that he allowed her to touch him since he’d shied away from that in the forest.
But even better, she hoped he noticed the spark still between them. Her fingers tingled as they nestled against his. Surely, he experienced the same feelings she did.
She led him upstairs to their chamber and sensed when Raynor stopped in the hallway. Merryn looked over her shoulder. He inclined his head to her and opened his own door, disappearing into his room. She tightened her grip on her husband’s hand.
They passed the solar, where Elia still slept. Her mother-in-law had tried to give her the room once Ferand passed, but Merryn wanted to remain close to Geoffrey and chose to stay in the chamber they’d shared on their wedding night, which had been his since birth. Now that Geoffrey held the title, they might take Elia up on her offer and switch places with her. All in good time.
She opened the door and stepped through. She realized Geoffrey had stopped in his tracks. She tugged on his hand so he would join her inside the room.
Merryn got him all the way in and closed the door behind them. A cheery fire warmed the chamber. She’d placed a flask of wine and two pewter cups upon the table, along with some fruit and cheese. It echoed what Geoffrey had done the night he escorted her here after their wedding feast.
He dropped her hand and moved to the fire. He leaned close, basking in its warmth. She watched him unlace the cloak and drop it to the floor as he squatted down, his hands in front of him, fingers spread, soaking up the heat.
She came to stand behind him and was shocked at how filthy his outstretched hands were, dirt embedded like a second layer of skin. His nails, broken and cracked, looked as if he’d dug in harsh soil for years. She hadn’t thought to bring water for him to wash. That would be the first thing she did in the morning, which was but a few hours away. She would get him into a steaming tub of hot water and help scrub the grime from him.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Then let us ready ourselves for bed.” Filthy or not, she had waited years to lie next to him. She would not be robbed of the pleasure of
his weight in the bed, his head pillowed next to hers.
He turned and faced her, his eyes wide, a look of horror upon his face.
“I cannot sleep with you,” he said quietly. He swept his hands up and down. “I would ruin the bedclothes.”
Though the chamber was lit only by the fire, Merryn bit her tongue as her nails dug into her palms. His sleeves had ridden up as he motioned. Even in the faint light, she saw the deep scars encasing his wrists.
Oh, Sweet Jesu. Who did that to him?
“I shall lie here.” He indicated the hearth. “Next to this welcoming fire.”
“I have food and drink for you.”
“Nay. I had my fill with what you brought in the woods. I . . . I am not used to eating much. I shall partake of that on the morrow.”
So mayhap he did remember something, whether he realized it or not.
Geoffrey looked at her solemnly. “Thank you. For not . . . running from me.” He paused. “I caught my image reflected in a pond as I came close to Kinwick. I realize . . . I realize I am . . . not the man you remember,” he said, sorrowing tinging his voice. “You have been most kind to me, my lady.”
It was if he spoke to her as a stranger might, one that she had shown a particular kindness to.
Merryn blinked back the tears that formed.
“I shall get you—”
“Nothing for me, my lady. I’m quite used to sleeping on the floor.” He bent and pulled the cloak over him. He then turned toward the fire, facing away from her. He curled into a small ball and did not move.
“Merryn, Geoffrey. My name is Merryn.”
“I know,” he whispered.
She wanted to go to him. To smooth his hair. Kiss his cheek. Let him know how happy she was that he’d returned. She had dreamt of this very day for an eternity. Now that reality faced her, she found herself confused. They had barely begun a life together before it was snatched away from them.
And now they had both grown older—and the man in this room was no longer her friend and lover. A stranger had taken his place, one like a feral cat now curled before the fire.
One that she could not touch—much less nurture—for fear of frightening him off.
Instead, she went to her bed. Slipped off her shoes. Crawled into the bed without removing her clothes.
Merryn lay silently for a long time, not sleeping.
CHAPTER 18
Merryn watched Geoffrey’s chest rise and fall as he slept. She’d only gotten a few hours of rest herself. Thoughts jumbled in her mind, causing it to race, and kept her from sleep.
That—and Geoffrey’s anguished moans.
He’d made them throughout the night. Some of the sounds that came from him deepened into groans, low and harsh. In them, she heard buried pain and sorrow. At one point, the noise he made reminded her of an animal caught in a trap.
One that hurt beyond understanding. One that wanted to give up on life, knowing that by being trapped, its life had already ended.
Wherever he had been—whatever had happened to him—she realized it had damaged him to the depths of his soul.
And it was up to her to see that he healed.
Merryn rose from the bed and slipped from yesterday’s layers of clothing. She replaced them with a fresh smock and kirtle before topping them with a light blue cote-hardie. Geoffrey had always liked her in blue. She drew on fresh hose and shoes and fastened his sapphire brooch to her breast. She decided to let her husband continue his slumber.
She crept to the door and opened it, closing it noiselessly behind her.
As she turned, she gasped. Raynor loomed in the hallway.
“How is he?”
Merryn saw the concern etched into his face. She motioned him to walk with her. Raynor slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and fell into step with her.
“I left him sleeping. On the floor.”
His brows shot up. “The floor? Why?”
She shrugged. “I know not. He claimed his filth would dirty the bedclothes. He gathered his cloak about him and curled up next to the hearth.”
“He’s right about that. I’ve never seen such grime on a man. Even after battle. ‘Tis almost as if he were buried alive and then rose from six feet under from the dead.”
“And that’s not our only problem.”
They reached the stairs and began their descent to the main floor.
“You mean him wanting to hide away. To not let anyone know he has returned.”
“Much worse,” she said.
“Good morn,” a voice called out.
Merryn stopped in her tracks. She placed a placid smile upon her lips. “A good morn to you, Sir Symond.” She sensed Raynor stiffen next to her. She pulled him down the remaining steps and paused in front of their visitor.
“Raynor Le Roux, I would like to introduce you to Sir Symond Benedict. He is a member of the king’s guard. Raynor is a cousin to those at Kinwick.”
The men greeted one another.
“I hoped to escort you to mass and then break my fast with you, Lady Merryn,” the soldier told her.
“Yes. ‘Tis exactly what I had in mind.” She pulled her hand from Raynor’s arm and took Symond’s. She allowed the knight to lead her to Kinwick’s small chapel. Raynor followed them inside.
Merryn’s mind raced during the mass. She needed to keep Symond occupied today. She hoped Raynor would help her in this endeavor.
Mass ended, and they made their way into the Great Hall, bustling with activity.
“I should like to see some of the grounds today if ‘tis possible,” Symond informed her.
“I would be happy to show them to you,” Raynor interjected. “I know how busy Merryn is on a Wednesday with the candles.”
“Yes,” she said, glad Raynor had thought so quickly of an excuse. “We make candles on this day.” She laughed. “You would be surprised how many candles are needed to keep the chambers and hallways of Kinwick lit each week. ‘Tis a cumbersome, lengthy task.”
“Must you spend your time so?” She heard the disappointment in their guest’s voice.
“I am afraid that even in domestic duties, my leadership is required,” she replied. “I am very particular about my candles. They represent Kinwick. How they are made is a reflection on me.”
Raynor added, “Merryn is quite a taskmaster in many areas. She expects no less than perfection. I would enjoy showing you a bit of the castle and the surrounding area. Though I am a visitor myself, I have partaken of hospitality at Kinwick many times over the years. I feel more than adequate to serve as your guide.” He thought a moment. “And we could ask Diggory, Kinwick’s steward, to join us.”
Merryn stood. “Then I shall leave you two men to decide how to manage your day. I shall see you at the evening meal, for I have much to accomplish today.”
She gave a quick curtsy and hurried away, grabbing hold of Tilda as she passed her.
“I need hot water brought to my chamber at once. At least triple what is normally sent. The buckets are to be left outside my door.” She thought a moment. “And food. I find myself hungry. Ravenously hungry.”
The servant eyed her cautiously. “Does this have anything to do with the king’s man? ‘Twill he be the one you must wed?”
“Please do as I ask, Tilda. ‘Tis all I need from you now. And if anyone asks, tell them I am busy all day. Making candles.”
Tilda’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Merryn returned to her chamber and entered it, drawing the bar across the door. She turned and leaned against it to supporting her shaking legs.
And saw that Geoffrey had awakened.
He stood, fingering one of the pewter cups, his face full of longing. Without looking at her, he said softly, “’Tis the cup from our wedding night.”
“Aye.” She crossed the room to stand next to him. She lifted the other cup and smiled wistfully as she stroked the etchings along the side.
“They have be
en a part of this room since that night,” she told him. “I kept everything the same.” Her eyes met his. “’Twas the only way I felt close to you.”
Merryn sat her cup down and then removed the cup from his hand and placed it on the table.
“I did not even change the bedclothes for a long time, for they carried your scent. And the scent of our lovemaking.” She reached out and took his hand, entwining her fingers around his. She kept her focus on their hands as she spoke, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.
“I left your clothing in the chest. I heard your voice and saw your face each time I closed my eyes. I wore your brooch as a reminder of the love you had for me.” She paused. “Sometimes, I pretended you’d gone away again. To war. And that you might return at any moment.”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “I never forgot you, Geoffrey. Though eventually we referred to you as dead instead of gone, that was for the children’s sake.”
Merryn stopped, swallowing the emotions so close to the surface. “Our twins are the best thing in my life. They have been the only thing that kept me going during years of doubt and loneliness.
“And now that you have returned, I long for them to get to know you. For us to be a family. United in every way.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to her. Their lips met briefly. His beard felt so foreign.
Then he jerked away. Picked up the wine and poured it into the cup. Drained it and poured a second cup and then drained that one, as well.
Merryn wanted to fight through the protective layers that surrounded him. But she didn’t know how. She knew she had to give him time to adjust to her. To being back at Kinwick again.
To remember the love they shared.
A knock sounded at the door. “Hot water, me lady. And plenty of food. Anything else ye be wantin’ for now?”
She walked to the doorway and spoke through the thick oak. “Thank you. ‘Twill be all I require.” She waited as she heard many sets of footsteps retreating before she unlocked and opened the door. No one remained outside nor in the hallway.
Merryn lifted a bucket by its handle and turned. Geoffrey stood before her.
“I shall take that. And bathe myself. You may go once the buckets are in.”
Word of Honor (Knights of Valor Book 1) Page 10
