A crack of thunder rolled through the forest. The trees and underbrush swayed and the sky suddenly opened with a drenching rain. Stephan could have sworn he heard shouts from the rider coming up behind him. Bruni was struggling. Fearing he might risk losing his mount to a rut in the road or wear him down, Stephan slowed.
The rain came down so hard he could barely see. When his pursuer was nearly on him, Stephan drew hard on Bruni’s reins. He leapt, hurtling into the man, dragging him from the saddle.
Thud! Stephan felt the air leave his lungs when they hit the ground. His adversary was beneath him for a second, but momentum sent them down a steep embankment. Soggy leaves stuck to his back. A bramble thicket scratched his face. Downed tree limbs didn’t stop their tumbling. Stones dug into Stephan’s skin and his tunic ripped on something sharp. They finally came to rest against a large tree. Both breathless.
The man groaned beneath Stephan’s weight. Stephan grunted, soaking rain dripping into his eyes. He shook his head, finally getting a look at his attacker.
“Robin!”
Robin stared up at him. “You could have killed us both.”
They roared with laughter.
“Did you know it was me?”
“I saw you at the smith’s.”
Stephan nodded. “And could not say anything.”
“You can get off me now.”
Stephan looked at Robin. Feeling mischievous, he pressed Robin’s wrists into the ground. Rain rivulets dripped from his hair on to Robin’s face. “It’s been days since I last saw Henry. You look good down there.” He winked.
Robin shoved him away playfully.
“Do not tell Henry I said that,” Stephan added, standing to brush himself off. He offered a helping hand to Robin.
Robin looked to the top of the hill. “Let’s find the horses.”
“Was anyone else following you?”
“In this storm?” Thunder boomed again.
Back at the campsite, they found Little John huddled in the trunk of a dead tree. He jumped up, braving the rain when he saw Robin. Smiling, he reached to wrap his arms around him, but pulled back. He eyed both men, their clothes covered with mud. “What happened to you?”
*
The skies were dark as night by the time the knights saw the towers of Newark Castle. At a canter, they might be dry again and warm themselves at Greyton in another hour. The rain had stopped midday, but clouds drifted ominously overhead. Fitting weather for their conversation. Robin’s description of the provisions at Nottingham Castle was bleak; Tickhill, no better. He listened to Stephan’s report of the journey from Westorby to York with a grim face, and corroborated details of a midsummer’s day gathering he’d overheard while at Tickhill. Learning of the attack on Allan left him angry, if not fearful for Marian and Robert.
“Not a word to Henry beyond what he already knows.”
“Not tell Henry?” Stephan gaped at Robin. “I understand not telling my brother, but Henry is in this as deep as you and I.”
“We work for the queen. Henry is an observer now. An informant, nothing more, and he knew that when we left Winchester with Queen Eleanor’s orders. He could still be hanged with the rest of us. You must remember that. The less he knows the better, for himself, and for everyone at Greyton.”
Robin would have no further discussion and kicked his stallion ahead. Stephan signaled Little John to move on. He stared after them. Robin made a valid point, yet it still left Stephan downcast. Henry would not be pleased even if he understood how his family would be more at risk.
It was almost laughable. John’s supporters knew where Henry stood. He’d have a hard time convincing them otherwise, especially with the servant Sarah spying on him.
Whether or not Henry knew anything more would matter little if John’s men pillaged the land. Henry could feign ignorance or tell all. Either way, they would never trust him. He could even swear his allegiance to John. What would that get him?
Stephan shook his head. Richard rewarded loyalty. But John? Did the man even know the meaning of the word?
Marian had been gathering herbs from the garden when she heard the clatter of hoofs. From the corner of the house, she watched Henry run into the courtyard to greet Robin and Stephan. Henry clasped them both, ignoring their filthy clothing. He held on to Stephan, appeared to whisper to him. She’d have done the same to Robin if it had been proper.
Robert had come from the stables to get their horses. He pulled back when Robin tried to ruffle his hair, but took the reins to lead the animals away. Her son had changed. Not in height or girth the way boys this age suddenly became young men. It was his attitude. Childhood curiosity—lost, along with the enthusiasm she remembered. She studied father and son. The hero worship had vanished and Robin seemed to recognize that. His gaze strayed to the house. Marian shrank back, but could see the heavy-heartedness in his face. She wanted to comfort him, comfort Robert, and prayed they might have some time together before Robin left again.
Henry led them inside and Marian entered the house through the kitchen. Mary and Sarah had gone to the mill so she’d not have to explain her snooping. She stood in the buttery, just out of sight, and heard Stephan bring greetings from his brother at Castle l’Aigle. The master read aloud from a letter Stephan brought from Lady Bea. Marian smiled. Her lady sounded happy.
*
Stephan studied Edward’s face as he read the message from Gil. Stephan could guess at its contents, but the warm and thoughtful looks, a chuckle, the nod signifying approval, were enough to tell him. He wanted to pull Henry into his arms, but knew Henry would get the meaning when he said, “It appears I may yet be a member of this family.”
Henry looked directly at Stephan, eyes so intense Stephan felt their fiery passion down to his toes. It seemed they’d both been unmoving for minutes, though Stephan knew it couldn’t have been more than a swift look.
“What do you think of this, Father?” Henry asked.
“It is quite the twist to the story, but your sister knows her mind.” Edward fingered the letters and slid them into the sleeve of his tunic. Noises outside in the courtyard drew his eye. “I know we had planned to inspect the repairs to the bridge, but we’ve near lost the day’s light. Besides, I can tell you and your friends have king’s business to discuss. You can see to the bridge on your own on the morrow.” The tension in Edward’s voice was palpable and he did not meet Henry’s eye. He rose and moved towards the door. “I’ve not visited with your mother today, so I shall leave you. See that Stephan and Robin are well provisioned for their journey on the morrow.”
When Edward left, Robin strode close to the buttery to ensure none of the servants walked in unexpectedly. Little John was at the window. Stephan took Henry in his arms for a proper welcome.
“Now that that’s done,” Robin said when the two lovers released their hold on each other, “Little John, pour some drinks. To business.”
“It appears we have overstayed our welcome,” Stephan said.
“Father does not want king’s men to be seen at Greyton.”
Robin took a goblet brimming with wine from Little John’s outstretched hand. “Good. That was our plan. We shall be off to Winchester at first light.”
Robin lifted his drink in a toast, but Stephan shivered. Their leaving was unavoidable, even if Edward hadn’t ordered them away.
“I should hate to be without my favorite squire. Will Allan be able to ride?” Robin asked.
“For you? He will be,” Henry said. “He must not have seen you arrive, else surely he’d be here.”
“Off with the young Sarah, is he? My new friend in Nottingham didn’t recognize her brother’s name, but he shall make further inquiries.”
Henry looked at Robin eagerly. “What would you have me do?”
“Henry…” Stephan knew Henry needed the truth, and coming from him might make it more palatable. “Your father is right. You must not be involved, not be aware of our plans. We know Count John’s men
are watching. Let them see you carrying on as lord of the manor, doing your business.”
“You’ll have me tending sheep to keep me from harm’s way?” Henry was on his feet. “I will not stand by while you—any of you—are in danger. Let me help. The wagons laid up in Grantham a few days back. That ginger-haired guard may be someone we can trust to—”
“Henry, about Tuck…” Stephan’s eyes flicked to Robin. How much should he say?
“You know him from Normandy. You didn’t think to mention that?” Henry looked hurt. He swallowed hard. “Was he one of your lovers?”
“Tuck? He’s as chaste as most priests. Mayhap more.”
Robin held his hand up. “Make no further contact with him. We do not want to compromise his position. He will communicate with you if he needs to. Watch. Listen.” His voice was firm. Henry started to speak, but Robin’s hand flew up again. “We have done what we set out to do. Little John, prepare our horses in the morning for the journey south. I will be in Ringsthorpe tonight. Marian and I have news to share with my family.”
“Robert knows? About you and Marian?” Stephan asked.
Robin nodded, but turned, clasping Henry’s arm. “Do not take anything on yourself, do you understand?” Henry agreed with a frown, unconvinced. Robin slid his arm across Henry’s shoulders and cocked his head towards Stephan. “Find a quiet place. Mayhap you know of the cove off the path towards Ringsthorpe?”
Stephan started for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Henry called.
“I’ve worn these clothes two days through rain and mud. Something dry and clean might be nice,” Stephan said.
“Clothes?” A blush rose on Henry’s cheeks. “You won’t be needing those.”
Robin pounded Henry’s back. “I like a man with a plan.”
“Have Robert ready horses for Stephan and me,” Henry told Little John.
“Will you want your squires along?” Little John asked innocently.
“No,” Stephan and Henry chorused.
Stephan ran up the stairs with Henry at his heels, leaving two men grinning behind them.
*
Father Eustace called Edward, waving his arms as he hurried up the road from the chapel. His dark robes billowed out in the breeze. Edward didn’t want to speak with anyone, but there’d be no avoiding the priest.
“The king’s men?” Eustace asked.
Edward gave him a stern look. Count John’s henchmen came in all forms—even priests. “Gone tomorrow.”
Edward’s answer mattered little to the priest. Eustace launched into the hazards of having men close to the king and to Queen Eleanor at Greyton. What had possessed this man of God to serve Count John? Money? The Devil? And all the while, he played the part of the innocent, suffering like the rest of the people harassed by John’s taxmen.
Edward barely heard his words. What was that chant his mother said the old Saxons invoked to guard against fiends? May they strengthen me…preserve me in life… How did that go? It invoked the saints. Matthew, my helmet; Luke, my sword, John, my shield…Mark… What was Mark? Hauberk. Yes, that was it.
Mark be my hauberk, a bright life’s covering…
Victory’s God I now beseech,
and the favor of the Lord
For a happy journey, for a mild and gentle
Wafting from these shores…
The priest grabbed Edward’s arm, his eyes dark and narrowed. “Do you understand?”
Edward jerked his arm away. How dare he!
Eustace brushed his hands together and fingered the wooden beads holding the crucifix at his waist. “And what of Henry? Our friends will not tolerate your son’s involvement.”
“I told you. With the knights gone, he will settle. Leave it.” Edward strode away, his heart thundering in his chest.
*
Twigs snapped beneath the horses’ hoofs. A breeze rustled the tree canopy but it was far too quiet for Stephan’s liking. His mind was on the good-byes that were coming. When the birds called out to each other, he started to whistle to lighten his mood. Henry smiled, but for so brief a moment Stephan almost missed it.
“What about Edric Weston?” Henry asked, worry in his eyes replacing the smile. “You know he’ll be back to talk of his sister.”
“Whatever you say, keep Elle informed.” Stephan brushed a tree limb away from his face, spraying his dry, clean shirt with droplets of rain water. “Your stories must agree. You must play his game for as long as it takes.”
“My father wants this marriage as badly as Weston. It’s all I’ve heard the last few days.”
The deception would come back to haunt Henry. Stephan was sure of that and took a long slow breath. “Tell him the truth.”
“How can I?” Henry’s voice rang with desperation.
Stephan inched his horse closer to Henry and their legs brushed. He reached across the space between them and grasped Henry’s hand. “Do you want Weston to tell him first? If your father knows, the threats have less meaning. Weston must believe he has the better hand. Your father might play along…if he doesn’t throw you out.” He gave Henry a crooked smile. “I’d not had a chance to tell you, but Bea is the ally you need. When she and Elle return from Yorkshire, let them put your father straight.”
“I do not think it will make any difference,” Henry said, eyes cast with sadness.
Stephan grew quiet. He felt a thousand miles away. And soon he would be. Not a thousand, but hundreds. He’d been fooling himself. How could he pretend there were no tomorrows?
A grey mist settled around them in the wood. The birds twittering ceased and shadows deepened as the sun drew down in the west. Turning off the path, they dismounted and walked towards the sound of the stream. Henry slid his arm round Stephan’s waist.
Stephan shivered. Those hands, that touch. He would miss them. Thinking of being apart made him ache all the more. But did he want to leave Henry wondering when, or if, he might return?
He laid his head against Henry’s cheek. He had to say it… “It will be good for Elle to be here.”
Henry’s grip tightened on him. “She likes playing her brother as much as the rest of us. I imagine she’ll want to check on Amicia, as will I.”
“Yes, but that is not what I was talking about.”
Henry turned to him questioningly.
“You might get to know Elle better,” Stephan said.
“And what?”
“If I do not return—”
Henry shoved Stephan against the nearest oak. “But you will.”
Stephan’s arms were pressed to his chest by Henry’s weight. He tried to push him away, but Henry didn’t budge. “I have lied to you.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locked on Stephan.
“I always said that we have today and need not think about the tomorrows.” Stephan’s voice cracked. “But I have dreaded the tomorrows. I hated for you to think of them because, in truth, we do not know what might happen.”
“Why are you saying these things?”
Stephan rested his forehead against Henry’s brow. “When will we see each other again? Next month, next year?” He trembled, searched for the strength to speak. I am supposed to be the strong one. He met Henry’s eyes. “This may be the last day we have. I need you to know…if some beautiful woman catches your eye—Elle, anyone—if you should ever feel for another what you’ve felt with me… Don’t let me stop you. You deserve a family. A wife, children.”
Henry shook his head vigorously, his eyes glassy. “Stop being the fool. I want no other.”
“Nor do I.” Stephan kissed him. They lay down in the greenwood. The windswept trees and forest creatures heard the sounds of their passion. They took each other to climax, and while their hearts slowed they held each other to forget what the morrow would bring.
*
The evening did not go as Henry hoped. His father drank too much and lectured on about Elle Weston. Henry tired of hearing about the wonders of an allia
nce of their families. He couldn’t look at Stephan, remembering his words at the cove.
When his father began to press Stephan for more information about Gil, Henry made an excuse to retire for the evening. Finally, he heard footfalls on the stairs, the creak of his father’s door, and Stephan calling a goodnight.
The house grew quiet except for rain pattering against the thatched roof. Certain his father was asleep, Henry crept from his chamber. The wind howled, rattling the open shutters in Bea’s old bedchamber as he pressed the door open. The room was dark as pitch, but he let the sound of Stephan’s breathing guide him.
Stephan sat up as Henry found the bed and brushed his lips with a kiss. “Come to my room,” he whispered. Down the hall moments later he was bolting the door. His arms encircled Stephan, and he maneuvered him backwards on to the bed. Stephan combed his hands through Henry’s hair. Henry’s fingers drank in the stubble on Stephan’s face, his strong jaw, his moist lips. He kissed him again. His hand slid to Stephan’s hardening flesh. Stephan inhaled sharply. His lover’s reaction sent a fiery sensation through Henry. He could not imagine being with anyone else, that any other’s touch would make him feel such passion. His cock swelled between their bodies. “I hope you can sleep in the saddle. Because I have no intention of giving you one moment to close your eyes for the rest of the night.”
Stephan arched his back, moaned as Henry stroked him.
Outside, the rain ceased. Clouds parted and the bright moon bled into the bedchamber, capturing their lovemaking for all the stars to see.
*
At sunrise there were the goodbyes at Greyton. Robin and the squires headed to Winchester, but Stephan’s messenger duty required his attention. He dug his spurs to his horse and cantered east beneath red skies that by mid-morning gave way to ominous gray clouds. The spire of the old Norman church appeared on the horizon, the first sign of Boston as dusk settled around him. He’d not gone much farther when he got a whiff of the town. It reeked of fish, tar, and pitch, but more than that, the wind off the water had the smell of a storm brewing.
For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2) Page 29
