by Jody Hedlund
The wolf’s damage to my arm was healing well. Thanks to Sister Katherine’s salves and poultices I doubted I’d even have scars. On the other hand, Sister Katherine and Sister Agnes had both agreed Lance would always feel the effects of his injury, an injury I blamed on myself. If I’d been more competent. If I’d taken the girls out of the cavern immediately. If I’d known how to defend myself better. It was my fault he’d had to save me at the expense of protecting himself.
Sister Katherine turned away from the window and crossed to a stone bench built into the opposite wall. She sat and waited for our attention. I gave her mine without delay, focusing on her slim face. Lance pivoted after a lengthy silence and then only reluctantly.
“It is time to do what we all know must be done,” she said with her gentle gray eyes.
“What is that?” I asked, not caring I was showing my ignorance.
“We must split up the princesses and take them each to separate hiding places.”
I started to protest, knowing the queen wouldn’t want the girls to be apart, but Lance spoke first. “Are there three safe hiding places?”
“Yes,” Sister Katherine said, glancing between the two of us in a way that reminded me again of the kiss I’d given Lance, of the way I couldn’t stop thinking about him, of the way I couldn’t help but admire him. His jaw was rigid and layered with stubble that shadowed the dimple in his chin. Even so, I knew it was there, had studied his face countless hours while he’d been unconscious.
He shifted, as though sensing my scrutiny, but he kept his attention on Sister Katherine. “I’ll deliver each of the girls if you but tell me where.”
“You and Felicia will take only one,” Sister Katherine said with finality as if the matter had been settled long ago. “I shall take Constance to live with a noble family who is loyal to King Francis.”
“Which family?” Lance’s question was laden with steel as though he would strike down the plan without hesitation.
“She is a friend, a young woman who once thought to become a nun but then met her husband and changed her mind. I knew her when I was a novice at St. Peter’s Abbey in Middleton and admired her. She has no connection to St. Cuthbert’s, so King Ethelwulf will never suspect her.”
“Will she be able to keep Constance’s identity a secret?”
“She has three young sons and has always longed for a daughter,” Sister Katherine said. “She will raise Constance as her own.”
“But won’t her friends question where Constance came from? Won’t they want to know about her?
“Unfortunately, once King Ethelwulf is done killing the nobility he suspects harbor too much love for King Francis, there will likely be many orphans. He would not be able to question them all. Besides, my friend and her husband live in a manor to the west of Delsworth. He will likely be spared from execution because of his isolated existence and lack of involvement at King Francis’s court.”
“And the twins?” Lance’s knuckles turned white against the handle of his cane and perspiration dotted his brow, the sure signs he was putting too much pressure too soon on his leg.
“Sister Agnes will take one of the babes to another convent hidden in the Highlands. Even if King Ethelwulf decides to search every holy house in the land, she will be safely hidden until the danger has passed.”
“Then why not take all three of the princesses there?” I asked.
Lance answered me before Sister Katherine could. “Sister Agnes will have an easier time hiding one babe versus three. Besides, if Ethelwulf locates and kills one, then the other two will still be safe.”
I didn’t want to think about King Ethelwulf finding and killing any of the precious girls. But it was certainly a risk, and Lance and Sister Katherine were right to split them up. At least for the time being.
“And the other twin?” Lance asked. “Where will we hide her?”
Sister Katherine again looked between Lance and me with that strange way of seeing deeper. “As I said, the two of you will take one.” Lance started to shake his head, but Sister Katherine continued before he could speak. “She will be your daughter, and you will raise her.”
One of the royal princesses? Our daughter?
“That’s impossible.” Lance spoke the words before I could. He lowered himself to the stone bench opposite Sister Katherine. His face was pale and his lips tight, either with pain or displeasure, I couldn’t tell.
“There is an abandoned charcoal burner’s house deep in Inglewood Forest,” Sister Katherine said. “Many years ago, when Princess Aurora was a babe, she was hidden there for a short while to protect her from Queen Margery. The nuns who took care of the princess kept the location of the cottage a secret, and I am one of only a few who know about it. You will find refuge there.”
Most charcoal burners chose a lonely existence. The job of burning logs into hardened black lumps of coal was hot and dirty and time-consuming. Although the many iron forges throughout Mercia depended upon the coal fuel, most people regarded the isolated charcoal burners with suspicion and left them alone. King Ethelwulf certainly wouldn’t look for a royal princess in such a place. Sister Katherine’s idea was brilliant.
But what about Lance and me? Surely, Sister Katherine could find more qualified individuals to raise a princess?
Lance was already shaking his head adamantly. “Nay. ’Twould be immoral living with a woman.”
“Not if she is your wife.”
Wife? Sister Katherine’s suggestion halted my nod of agreement, and I froze as chagrin plummeted through me like an icy cold waterfall.
Lance’s usually stoic face was an open theater stage, his emotion on display—first confusion, then mortification, and finally something akin to consternation. “Of course we can’t marry. As one of the king’s guard, I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
“You are no longer in the king’s guard,” Sister Katherine responded. “You are a charcoal burner.”
“And Felicia,” Lance sputtered. “She’s a noblewoman. We’re forbidden from marrying by nature of our classes.”
“The moment Felicia made her vow to the queen, she put a death warrant upon her head. She will never be a noblewoman again. As long as King Ethelwulf lives, she will be a hunted criminal.”
I shuddered at Sister Katherine’s blunt words. While I’d already considered the implications of my actions, to hear it spoken aloud and so concisely sent a pang into my heart.
“But a charcoal burner’s wife?” Lance said in disbelief. “Nay, I will not subject a woman like Felicia to such a life. Never. We must think of another plan for the third princess.”
Silence descended in the tower room. Outside the narrow windows came the echo of a distant hawk, and I wondered if it was a hunting bird sent out by King Ethelwulf’s army. It reminded me we were running out of time. We couldn’t argue but needed instead to act quickly.
Although Sister Katherine’s suggestion for Lance and me to get married and raise one of the twins was indeed shocking, it didn’t fill me with revulsion. In fact, the thought sent a shiver of anticipation through me. I couldn’t deny I liked Lance. Dear old Sister Agnes believed I loved him and that my “true love’s kiss” had helped pull him out of death’s sturdy grip by giving him an incentive to live.
Lance was an admirable man with many good qualities. In fact, he was braver, kinder, and more sacrificial than anyone at court. He was far and above the strongest and fiercest man I’d ever met. I trusted him with my life.
Yet, could I marry him? I studied his determined profile, wanting to look in his eyes to find answers there.
He focused upon Sister Katherine. “Felicia deserves a noble life with a husband who can give her all of the comforts she’s used to.”
The nun looked at me then, her wise eyes perceptive, her expression bidding me to speak my truest thoughts.
I hesitated. Over the past two weeks of deprivation, I’d realized how privileged and spoiled I’d been most of my life, how much I’d always ta
ken for granted, how much I still had to learn about the world we lived in.
“What do you believe God’s purpose is for your life, Felicia?” Sister Katherine asked. With her tight wimple surrounding her thin face, there was an angelic, almost ethereal, quality about her.
“I have been searching for it,” I admitted. “I was not satisfied with court life. I did not fit in among the other noblewomen. And I longed for more than that shallow existence.”
Lance’s head snapped up at my revelation, and he finally met my gaze.
“I confess that leaving my comforts and family behind will be challenging,” I continued. “But I shall not miss much else about my noble life.”
“The charcoal burner is the poorest of the poor. The lowest class,” Lance said. “You would go from every right and privilege to none. And for how long would you have to endure such a life? How long until Princess Constance is old enough to regain the throne?”
“She could do so at any time,” Sister Katherine said, “since the throne is rightfully hers. But the old laws require a woman to reach the age of twenty before she can rule without a regent.”
Lance hadn’t taken his gaze from my face. “So we may need to hide for many years—until Princess Constance can legitimately become queen in her own right. Even then, she might not be willing or able to wrest it from Ethelwulf.”
The queen had once told me we couldn’t change every wrong in the world but that we could do our small part. Was this to be my part? To hide for many years? To mother an orphaned princess? To teach and train her to become an heir who was worthy of royalty, so that perhaps someday she could make a difference and help bring about another small change for the better?
“I can’t ask Felicia to sacrifice so much,” Lance said to Sister Katherine. “We must think of a different way. Perhaps Felicia can find safety with the noble family taking in the Princess Constance. And I will take the other babe into the woods by myself.”
“You cannot care for a wee infant and support yourself,” Sister Katherine stated.
“I’ll find a pauper’s daughter to marry.”
“No!” I spoke more sharply than I intended, and Lance flinched. Taking advantage of his silence, I lowered myself to my knees before him and reached for his hands. I knew I was being bold. But this was a bold plan and one that would take courage for both of us.
“You should not be kneeling before me, my lady.” He tried to tug me up.
“Lance,” I said, resisting his pull. “Please try to understand. You shall marry me. I truly want to make this sacrifice for the princess.”
His fingers closed around mine, the pressure solid and secure and everything I knew him to be. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and dropped my attention to his hand, already embarrassed by what I must say. I brushed my thumb across his knuckles. “I would make the sacrifice for us too.” I couldn’t make myself look up to see his reaction, but I hoped he understood what I meant.
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he caressed my knuckles with his thumb the same way I had his. The gentle touch made my stomach flip. “I wouldn’t be worthy of such a sacrifice.”
“You are worthier than any man I have ever known,” I replied, admiring the strength in just his fingers alone. “And I would only pray that someday I might be worthy of you.”
“But you already are—”
“If not for me, you would not be injured.” The anguished words were out before I could stop them. “I should have stayed in Delsworth and allowed you to leave without me. You would have escaped faster, and then you would still be whole, unharmed—”
He cut me off by raising a hand and pressing his thumb against my lips. The touch made me suck in a breath. His skin was rough and rugged, but I couldn’t stop myself from relishing the contact.
“Nay, my lady.” His brown eyes brimmed with something I couldn’t name. “I was wrong to think you were ever a burden. You were a gift. Are a gift. Unexpected but necessary. I realize now I couldn’t have saved the princesses without you.”
“But your leg.” I whispered against his thumb. “It’s my—”
“Felicia.” The gentleness in his whisper stopped my words. “Every time I think that I might have left you behind at Delsworth, I loathe the thought of what might have happened to you there.”
At his declaration, warmth spilled through me. “Then you will forgive me for costing you your livelihood?”
“There is naught to forgive.”
“Please, Lance.”
“If you will forgive me for costing you your life of nobility?”
“I give up my old life freely.”
“As do I.”
I smiled then.
His lips curved up in response.
“Will you have no regrets about becoming a charcoal burner?” I asked.
“As long as you have none about becoming a charcoal burner’s wife.”
“None.” And I meant it. Not just for the princess but because I cared about him too. I hoped he could read that in my eyes. I didn’t know yet if what I felt was love, but it was surely something akin to it.
His fingers tightened against mine. “It will be a harsh life.”
“It has already been harsh. But we have done this together, and we will continue to do so.”
He released a breath, as though he’d been holding it in for a while. Then he reached for my chin, his fingers tender against my skin.
I glanced past him to where Sister Katherine sat only to realize she’d left.
He quietly studied my face. “And what if eventually you’re not happy with a pauper’s life?”
“I have no doubt we shall both have many adjustments to make in the days and weeks to come. We shall face hardships and danger. And we shall experience toil and sorrow. But happiness is a choice we can make no matter what life brings us, is it not?”
“It is.” He rubbed his thumb along my jaw.
The caress was achingly sweet. When his eyes dropped to my lips, my stomach cinched with the desire for him to kiss me.
“If we would marry,” he said hesitantly, almost hoarsely, “’twill be in name only. I will not dishonor you.”
I searched his eyes, trying to make sense of his words. Did he think ours would simply be a marriage of convenience, solely for the sake of protecting the princess? Is that what he wanted? To remain friends and partners and nothing more?
I pulled away from him then and stood. We might not love each other now, but we could give love the chance to grow, couldn’t we? I hoped so, but I was not bold enough to say it. Instead, I walked to the narrow window and peered out, my mind’s eye seeing nothing but his ruggedly handsome face.
After a moment, he rose and came behind me. I could feel his warmth close by, but he didn’t touch me. “We have only a few hours until the cover of darkness and departure. We have much to do until then.”
I nodded, forced a smile, and turned. “Yes. Much.”
Chapter
12
LANCE
WITHOUT MY WARRIOR braids, my head felt bare. But after I’d taken a bath and washed my hair, I’d refrained from plaiting the long strands, as had been my custom for so many years. Instead, I combed my hair until it was smooth and then gathered it at the back of my neck, tying it together with a leather strip.
I gave my tunic a final shake before leaving my chamber, hoping I was presentable for the wedding and wishing I had something to give Felicia as a token of my devotion. But I had nothing. And I was struck with the realization I’d never have anything, that instead of moving above my father’s station, I was about to drop below him to the lowest strata a man could fall, as a charcoal burner. What would he think of me now if he’d lived? Would he be disappointed?
I could only hope he’d understand I was doing this for a higher purpose and greater good. After all, he was the one who’d told me that often sacrifices must be made without the satisfaction of praise from others. In the days to come, my satisfaction in labor
ing at a job I’d never asked for was that I’d save both the princess and Felicia. From now on, they would be my life mission.
As I exited into the dark, narrow passageway, needles shot through my leg with each step I took. My ineptness twisted my frustration tighter, and the thunk of the cane against the floor reminded me I was a cripple, that I would be for the rest of my life. Why would a beautiful, poised, and kind woman like Felicia want to marry a pauper and a cripple?
As I neared the chapel, my trepidation mounted. I stopped outside the door and wiped at the fresh perspiration on my brow. For an endless moment, I hesitated, knowing I should run away and give Felicia her freedom, that she should have a better man, a better life.
But at the soft tinkle of her laughter from within the small sanctuary, I straightened and rounded the corner. She was standing near the altar with the nuns surrounding her and fixing a wreath of flowers on her head.
I slicked back my hair, self-conscious.
At the sight of me, the nuns quieted and moved away, revealing Felicia.
All coherent thoughts fled and my breath hitched in my chest. She was beautiful. Her thick sable hair cascaded freely over her shoulders and down her back. Thin white ribbons from the flower wreath wound through the curls. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and her eyes were bright. Even in her peasant tunic, she was stunning.
She offered me a tentative smile, and it beckoned me forward, drawing me, making my heart thud hard with all I felt for her. I didn’t want to give her up. I couldn’t. I’d never loved a woman before, but my affection for her already ran deep. I wanted to keep her close, protect her from those searching for her, and die for her if necessary. Somehow, in the short time I’d known her, she’d captured my heart. It belonged to her now and would always.
When I took my place next to her at the altar, the abbess placed our hands together. At the mere contact of her soft small hand inside my callused one, the seriousness of the occasion reverberated down to my soul.
“Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife,” the abbess said. “To live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”
