For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2)

by Charlene Newcomb

  Lune nudged him, his snout nesting in Stephan’s hair. “What shall we do?” He glanced over his shoulder at the darkened yard. He must speak with Henry. Or should he talk to Bea?

  Stephan started back towards the house, but laughter coming from the barn made him stop. Little John? A soft and feminine voice floated through the open door. Elle…with Little John?

  Stephan walked into the barn. Feet dangling from the edge of a wagon bed, Elle sat far too close to Little John. It was plain to see they merely enjoyed each other’s company in all innocence, but Edric would run Little John through if he knew they were together. And alone. Could things get any worse?

  “Good evening, Sir Stephan,” Elle said with a smile.

  “You should return to the house, Elle. Little John, I will speak to you. Now.”

  “We were not—”

  “Now.”

  Elle scrambled off with the grace of a young deer. Little John remained seated.

  “Come here,” Stephan ordered.

  Little John swung his feet. “Before I do, you must promise to believe me. Elle is a lady. I would do nothing improper to bring her shame.” He fell silent, looked away awkwardly. “My only sin was thinking what it would be like to kiss her. I have never met a girl like her.”

  Stephan sighed heavily at the added complication. He hoped hearts would not be broken.

  Before he could think his way around that, Little John quietly added, “I spoke to Sir Henry ere he went to his bedchamber earlier.”

  “We’ve had no chance to speak privately. What have you learned?”

  “Lord Weston met with a messenger about the wagons headed to Nottingham. He told him about us—king’s men, he said. Mentioned Sir Henry by name. They will be expecting us in Boston. And Elle has overheard other conversations her brother has had with visitors.”

  Stephan hustled to Little John’s side. “Tell me.” If Edric’s involvement with Count John’s men went beyond offering a camp for the caravan, there might be something to hold over Edric’s head. Mayhap Little John had the answer to keeping the man’s tongue leashed.

  *

  Stephan knelt by the bed and cleared his throat. “I need—we need your help.”

  Bea stirred at the whispered words. She smiled, half asleep, then her eyes flew open. “What—”

  “Shh! We mustn’t wake anyone.”

  “What are you doing in my bedchamber?” Bea tugged the blanket up to her chin and sat up, frowning.

  Stephan handed her a goblet of watered mead. He’d already guzzled down a mugful himself while he’d sat in the chair across the room watching her sleep and thinking about this mess. For one fleeting moment he thought he should just leave them all behind, that he regretted letting himself fall in love. Henry was right. Love could cause such pain.

  Bea sipped the drink. “Well?”

  Stephan retrieved a stool and brought it to her bedside.

  “This is highly improper, even if we were truly betrothed,” Bea said as he sat. “I must admit having a handsome knight on his knees in my bedchamber makes me shiver with what could be.” She laid her hand atop his.

  “My lady…” Stephan groaned, gently withdrawing his hand. “Forgive me, but we’ve little time before everyone rises.” He met her blue eyes. “Edric will blackmail Henry if you do not marry him.”

  Bea’s eyes widened. “The man is already married. Even if he were not, I would never agree to become his wife.” Anger filled her voice. “Why would he think I would reject you?”

  “He expects my infidelities will force you to see the rogue that I am. When that happens, might you feign some interest in his proposal if it meant saving Henry’s reputation?”

  Her brows knit tightly. “What in God’s heaven has my brother done?”

  He has loved me. Stephan wished he could say it aloud, but he’d honor Henry wishes. His throat grew dry. “Please do not ask me to tell you. I care deeply for Henry. I do not want to see him hurt.”

  “Was it something so bad?”

  He hated to lie to her, but what choice did he have? “There was trouble in the Holy Land.”

  “And Edric knows of this? How?”

  “I do not know. Mayhap some knight returned from pilgrimage that Henry offended? It matters not how Edric learned of the transgression, but he must believe our betrothal shall not last.” Stephan rubbed his eyes. Christ! Gil and Mylla’s wedding. That had to be it. Amicia’s uncle must have seen him or heard about the tanner’s son and repeated the story.

  Stephan’s head ached. “He does not anticipate Amicia will survive the birth of their child.”

  “He has no way of knowing that.” Fear suddenly replaced the anger in Bea’s eyes. Stephan could almost read her mind. Like him, she’d not put it past Edric to arrange an accident. Bea crossed herself and whispered, “Oh dear God.”

  “There’s more,” Stephan said. “Edric insists that Henry take Elle as his betrothed.”

  “At least there is some good in this.”

  Stephan couldn’t bring himself to speak. Bea was watching him. Could she see the pain he desperately tried to hide? She laid her hand atop his again, ran her fingers along his wrist. He didn’t attempt to pull away. Any other man would have melted at that touch, but Stephan could only think of Henry.

  Bea’s eyes narrowed. “Does Henry know Edric’s threat?”

  “I wanted to speak with you first. Henry would never ask you to lead the bastard on. He may curse me for even suggesting it. You must believe me, I’d never want you to marry Edric.” Stephan swallowed the knot in his throat and rose to leave.

  Bea caught his hand. “I will cajole Edric, if only to convince him that Elle must accompany us.” Grimacing as if some foul smell had settled in the room, she said, “The idea of being pleasant to him makes me ill. But if Elle is to be the lady of Greyton, she must learn her role. With her mother dead and Edric’s wife abed, she has no one to guide her. Henry might get to know her better, which will soothe his mind about marriage. And Edric will believe he has won that half of his battle. As for the other?”

  “It will not come to pass. Do not worry. Henry and I will ensure the king knows Edric’s treachery. You might pay a fine to remain unmarried, but the king will not grant his permission for Edric to take you as his wife.”

  “But if Edric does not get his way…”

  Stephan squeezed Bea’s hand. Suddenly, the door flew open.

  “What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Henry’s face was pinched, his eyes filled with pain. “Get out of my sister’s bedchamber.”

  Bea looked between the two men. “Henry, we were only—”

  “Out,” he repeated, glaring at Stephan.

  Stephan lowered his eyes and hurried away. Had Bea noticed Henry acted more like a jealous lover than an enraged brother?

  Stephan’s hand was on the stair rail when a dark voice intruded from the shadows.

  “Is all well, Sir Stephan?”

  Stephan ignored Edric and stalked down the stairs. The hall was dark, but he could see the pallet set for him along the wall. He grabbed the woolen blanket. He’d not sleep under the same roof with Edric Weston for all the silver in England.

  In the barn loft, he settled next to a snoring Little John. He begged for sleep to come, but his mind raced. He and Henry might save Bea from a vile marriage, but would the threat of treason keep Weston quiet? I could leave, never return to Greyton, and still the cur might betray Henry.

  Stephan’s heart ached for Henry. He buried his head against his arms. Henry had no choice. He must tell Bea and his father before someone else did.

  Robert had laid awake most of the night tucked inside a hollowed-out tree. A raging storm accompanied his tears. He’d stayed there most of the day, heard his mother call and almost answered. But it hurt too much to think he’d been lied to.

  Late in the day, he stumbled into the stable. He stopped short not expecting to see Allan there. At least it wasn’t Robin. He rubbed the swea
t and grime from his face and leaned on the rail of the stall to watch Allan tend to Robin’s horse.

  Allan lifted the stallion’s rear hoof. He pretended not to notice Robert’s appearance. Robert pressed his mouth tight trying to hide a trembling lip. He imagined deep circles lined his eyes, red from tears and little sleep. When he didn’t speak, Allan said, “Robin’s horse needs to be re-shod. You know he went halfway to Lincoln yesterday looking for you.” Allan stood, patting the animal’s haunches. “Where’d that brush go?”

  Without a word, Robert grasped the smooth-handled tool perched on the post. He handed it over, still quiet. His breathing matched Allan’s brush strokes. “Sir Robin—he’s my father,” he murmured through clenched teeth.

  Allan continued to brush the stallion, waiting to hear more.

  “He left my ma. Didn’t come back for her. For us.” Why didn’t he tell me? Thunder had answered the curses he spat at Robin during the night. God agreed with him.

  Allan leaned across the horse’s back and met Robert’s gaze. “Couldn’t have a finer man for a da.” Robert’s face must have been filled with doubt because he added, “He was fighting for the king. Important work.”

  “I thought he was dead. She told me he was from Stamford. It was all a lie.”

  “You are right. They should have told you the truth.” Allan paused. “But you like Sir Robin, don’t you?”

  Robert kicked at the hay on the ground, his eyes lowered.

  “He gave you a new bow from his father’s shop, did he not? Took you out for practice.” Allan’s voice cracked. His own father had beat him with a bow and he had good cause to hate the man.

  “We did not shoot bow,” Robert spat. “He killed a man. At the barn.”

  “I heard that outlaw threatened you and Little John. Robin was only doing what he had to do to keep you safe. He’s not one to kill without reason.”

  “He was so angry.” Robert grimaced. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

  Allan came round the stall. He pressed a hand to Robert’s shoulder. “If someone threatened your ma with a blade, how would you feel?”

  Robert nodded sullenly. “Why didn’t he tell me? You knew. Little John?” When Allan confirmed they’d both known, he knocked Allan’s hand away. “You could have said something to me.”

  “We gave our word to Robin, just as he gave your ma his word. And he does not break his promises.”

  Robert swore beneath his breath. It still made no sense to him. He stiffened his jaw and said, “But he did not come back.”

  “He is back now. Wish I could be so lucky. I would give anything to call him da.” Allan swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Now you go on. Find your mother and Robin. Let them explain why it’s taken them twelve summers to tell you the truth.”

  *

  Robin had heard them from the stable door. He pressed his back against the wall. Sadness overwhelmed him. And pride—God, how Allan’s words touched him. He took a long deep breath and swung the door wide.

  “I love you both.”

  Allan strode into Robin’s waiting arms. Robin closed his eyes, rubbed Allan’s back, and held him tightly.

  Robert didn’t move. “How can you love me? You do not even know me.”

  Robin signaled to Allan and waited until his squire left him alone with his son. Pain filled Robert’s eyes. I have hurt him so much. “Come back to the house,” he said, stepping up to Robert. “We shall talk.”

  “You said you loved her, but you treated her like a whore.”

  Robin clamped a hand on Robert’s wrist. “Never call your mother that.”

  Robert squirmed but couldn’t loose Robin’s grip. “Did you marry her?”

  “I would have.”

  Robert jerked away. He whirled around and pummeled Robin in the gut. Caught off guard, Robin grunted and doubled over. Robert swung again, his fist connecting with Robin's jaw. Lucky for Robin, the twelve year old didn’t have a long reach or carry a hard punch. Another year or two and the outcome might be different.

  Robin got hold of Robert again. “I am sorry.”

  Robin stood more than head taller, but Robert was stronger than he looked and struggled to pull away. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice cracking, his grip tightening. “I should have come back. I wish I’d been here.” He dragged Robert close, embraced him. “Let’s find your mother.”

  Robert wrenched free and stalked from the stables, mud kicking up at his heels. His feet pounded the ground towards the house with Robin several strides behind.

  Robin knew what it was like to lose a parent. But to discover that one you’d thought dead was alive? How could he ever make things right for the boy?

  Inside, Marian was waiting. She’d seen them coming. The hall was empty, cold as the glare on Robert’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

  Tears stung Marian’s eyes, but her breaths were calm, her stance steeped in confidence. “I wanted to be sure of my own feelings before I said anything to you.”

  Robert looked between the two of him. Confused, he didn’t speak.

  Robin’s heartbeat rose. “You—your feelings?” After their conversation at the cove, he’d wondered if she only wanted him out of her life and Robert’s forever.

  “Robin. Robert Carpenter, Robin du Louviers, whatever you call yourself. You will not go away. You have been in my mind and in my heart since I was ten years old when I saw you nearly drown trying to rescue that kitten from the well.”

  Robin wanted to put his arms around Marian, but the hurt and anger lingering in Robert’s eyes was like a thick stone wall holding him back.

  Robert scoffed. “All that talk about your auntie in Stamford? Marrying there? None of it true, else you’d have told me.” He turned a fierce gaze on Robin. “You took my ma to your bed, got her with child. But you did not wed.” Stomping across the room, he kicked at the floor rushes, and then sat heavily on a stool, his back stiff, chin jutting. “How could you let ma think you were dead?”

  “I have asked myself that a thousand times. All I have are sorry excuses.” Robin eyed the jug of wine on the side table, but thought better of pouring himself a drink. “Would your mother have had me back? She would hate me for leaving without a word.”

  “And why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t I?” Robert glared.

  Robin would prefer to face a Saracen blade than to see that look in the boy’s eyes. He rubbed the ache in his temples. “Hate me. You have that right, just as I despise myself for what I have done. I regret every moment of not being here with you both. I love your mother, Robert. Tell me to go, but know that I will love you always.”

  Robin was desperate to feel Marian’s hand in his. The strength of her touch might help him find words. He recounted the argument with his father and spoke of Linota, watching Robert avert his gaze and mutter to himself. “…and that’s why I had to leave, why I could not come back.”

  Robert did not utter a word. His face remained cold, but he blinked back tears. Certainly he understood everything Robin said. He was old enough to know of arranged marriages.

  Squawking hens and the sounds of riders in the courtyard broke the quiet.

  “I must tend to the riders,” he said, and rose from his chair.

  “Someone else will see to them.” Robin tried to read Robert’s expression, but only saw the face of a stranger.

  Marian drew close and surprised Robin, laying her hand on his. “I could never hate you.”

  “You would not? But you said—”

  “That was anger. Not hate.”

  Robin brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want to be with you.” He twined his fingers through hers and turned back to Robert. “I want to know my son.”

  Robert’s outrage had calmed, but it simmered beneath wounds that might take years to heal. “Yet after all you claim, you are leaving?”

  Robin’s mouth was dry. When he’d left those many years ago, he’d never thought of coming home. And
now that he was here, he did not want to go. He’d lost friends in battle, but never felt the heartache plaguing him now. As difficult as it was, he had to put aside those feelings. “These are dangerous times. Traitorous men plot against King Richard. I love my king, my land, and want peace for you and your ma. Some of us must make sacrifices. This is my duty as a man, as a father, as an Englishman.”

  “But you will return?”

  “I hope so,” he said quietly. “I must do as the queen bids now. You need to understand. When the king is free and England is at peace, I will come back. I want to be here now but I cannot.”

  “You expect me to forgive you?” Robert seemed years older than his twelve summers. He looked from Robin to Marian. “Is that what you want me to say? Because I do not think I can.”

  Marian’s lip trembled. “Not yet, but mayhap one day.” She stared at Robin’s hand wrapped round her own. “This is not the life I want for Robert and me. To hear you say ‘I must go’ tears me apart.”

  Robin’s throat constricted as she looked up at him. He felt like a huge boulder had crushed his heart. A moment before he’d been sure Marian would have him back. Closing his eyes he nodded slowly, startled when she swept the hair from his brow and traced a finger down his temple. He searched her face not knowing what she was thinking.

  “How can I deny my love for you?” Marian’s dark eyes glistened. “I will lie in your bed, sunlight barely peeking through the window, and I will say good-bye. I will shed a tear and let you walk out. I will wait. And pray. Robert will watch every rider coming down the road hoping to see your face. Not knowing. Never knowing…”

  Robin’s heart pounded. “I will do everything in my power to come back.”

  Robert watched his parents embrace. “Will you marry?” he asked, still cool.

  “I must ask the king to grant your mother’s hand to me, and then yes, if you will have me,” he said, turning to Marian.

  She smiled. “I will.”