Poseidon’s Legion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Rhodes simply shrugged. “He was correct,” he said. “But you cannot blame me. I’m sure you have already deduced that this is not something I wish to do. My intention was to return to London where my liege is currently in residence in his town home. You would not think he would retreat to London when the humidity of the river becomes so unbearable, but there is much happening in London these days that he must attend to. But even with the sticky heat of the month, there is still great activity in London. I had once invited you to experience it, if you recall.”

  Samarra looked at him, remembering that he had, indeed, suggested she come to London. “That was when you believed I was a woman who would take such favors from a man.”

  “You are still a woman who takes money from a man, selling your services, only you are doing it with your sword rather than with the heated sheath between your legs.”

  Samarra was shocked and offended he should say such a thing. “I did not imagine you to be vulgar, de Leybourne.”

  “And I did not imagine you to be a sword-whore.”

  Incensed, she stood up and threw the cup to the ground. “What does that make you?” she fired back. “You take money from your liege for exactly the same purpose. There is no difference between you and me.”

  He could see that he’d upset her but he rather liked the fire he saw. She was a tall woman, with lean muscles he found quite attractive. Her anger didn’t upset him at all. In fact, it amused him.

  “There is a big difference,” he said. “I am sworn to God and the king. You are sworn to your money-god. My actions are noble whereas yours are self-serving. There is nothing wrong with that and I applaud the fact that you have been able to make a name for yourself with your sword for hire. But do not confuse the knighthood with being a mercenary; whatever you call it, it is still whoring.”

  Samarra was so angry that she was trembling. “You are a filthy bastard.”

  He gave her a rather alluring grin. “That may be true,” he said, “but back at the tavern when you presented yourself as a whore, I still bought you a meal and spoke to you of London. Lady, it matters not to me what you do for a living so long as you are happy in your pursuit. If you are a mercenary, so be it, but do not pretend it is a noble profession. But a woman of your beauty… it is a pity that you must fight to exist as you do. I said it before and I shall say it again – you should be dressed in finery and wearing jewels around your neck. For certain, if you belonged to me, that would be your life. You would want for nothing.”

  That comment threw water on the flame of Samarra’s anger, instantly dousing it. She’d never known a man who could command her emotions as Rhodes did; insults one minute and flattery the next. But, oh, the flattery! She’d never known such a thing, such sweet words pouring into her ear like honey, filling her with giddiness. Now, she was starting to feel very foolish because he had roused her anger with insults that she was instantly willing to forget.

  God’s Bones, what is happening to me?

  Sheepishly, she lowered her gaze, unable to look at him. “But I do not belong to you,” she said. “I belong to no one and, therefore, must get money the only way I know how. My father was a pirate, as is my brother, and I have learned from them. Everything has its price, de Leybourne. Even you.”

  Rhodes nodded faintly. “Most astute,” he said. “But it is a pity that all you understand is money.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because once you take me to my father, I will be forced to marry. And once I marry, I must remain faithful to my wife, whether or not I want her.”

  It was a curious statement and Samarra cocked her head. “But why?”

  Rhodes’ gaze lingered on her for a moment before averting his gaze. He sighed heavily, as if he was reluctant to reply. “Because I have watched my liege and his faithfulness towards his wife, whom he loves,” he said. “The man has set an example I wish to follow. It seems to be that there is no greater honor than loyalty to one’s wife, no matter what you feel about her personally. It is the mark of true man. Therefore, if I am forced to marry the woman my father has selected for me, I will become devoted to her whether or not I wish to be. It is a matter of honor. And if that happens, I will be unable to show you the sights of London should you come. I would not dishonor my family name or my wife in such a way by lavishing money or attention on a woman who was not my wife.”

  It was a surprisingly noble opinion to have and Samarra found herself both respecting it and taking issue with it.

  “Is that why you do not wish to be married?” she asked. “Because once you do, you will never look at another woman?”

  Rhodes was looking off into the camp, to the distant fire, his mind lingering on a confession that he’d given her that was quite personal. He really didn’t know why he told her that other than the fact he was trying to talk her out of delivering him to his father. It would seem he was desperate enough to say anything, including something deeply personal. Or, perhaps, it was because he simply wanted her to understand just what kind of man he was.

  “That is the gist of it, aye,” he said. “I suppose that when I marry, I would at least like to give such devotion to a woman of my choosing.”

  There was that feeling of pity for him again. Samarra tried to shrug it off. “Surely if you told your father….”

  He cut her off, though not cruelly. “I have tried, but he is only concerned for his honor and for the bargain he made with de Sansen. He does not care about my reasons.”

  Samarra was feeling an increasing amount of pity for him. Remember that his father will pay double if you deliver him safely! It was as if she had to remind herself of the ultimate prize when this task was over because, as it was, her sense of compassion was fighting with her sense of honor. She’d made a bargain with Tyringham and to break that bargain would not have been honorable.

  But her attraction to Rhodes was threatening to do just that.

  Swiftly, she turned away. “I am sorry for you, then,” she said, businesslike in her attempt to resist him. “Unfortunately, I cannot help you. I took your father’s money and promised to delivery you to him. And if you value honor as you say you do, then you will understand that I must complete my task.”

  Rhodes turned to look at her, her long body silhouetted in the darkness. “You must do what you feel is right, of course.”

  “I will.”

  “I understand.” When she began to walk away, he spoke louder. “But it is a pity you and I will never share any time together in London. I was quite looking forward to that.”

  Samarra paused, shook off his words because she was having much the same feelings, and continued on her way. The more the minutes ticked by and the more she spoke with Rhodes, the more her resistance to him threatened to break down completely.

  Out of that particular fear, she didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Five

  The next day

  Outside of the village of Three Burrows, near St. Agnes

  She wouldn’t stop crying.

  The rather large and proud party from the House of de Sansen was less than a day away from St. Agnes, their destination, but the very reason for their journey wouldn’t stop crying. The blessed child wouldn’t shut her yap and her weeping was grating on everyone’s nerves, and most particularly, on her father’s. If he thought that balling up a hose and shoving it into her mouth would have shut her up, he would have gladly done so. Now, on the third day of their journey from Penzance, his daughter’s weeping was close to literally driving him mad.

  One more sob and he was going to kill her or himself. At the moment, it could go either way. Anything to end his suffering.

  It was mid-morning on a brilliant and lovely day, with gentle sea breezes snapping the de Sansen standards as the party traveled along the dusty road. But the delightful day and the sea breeze were the only positive features of an otherwise miserable journey; de Sansen had thirty men with him, including three knights loaded
down with plate armor that, when the weather warmed up as it had been, turned into an oven. His knights were suffering greatly. The men-at-arms weren’t much better off, as de Sansen had insisted they all be heavily armed since they were traveling through the wilds of Cornwall. So in effect, there were thirty men sweating rivers as they plodded along the road.

  Worse still was the situation itself – Lyonette de Sansen had no desire to be married to a man she’d only met once, years ago, when he’d thrown rocks and stuck his tongue out at her. He’d been a bully of a lad and she had always remembered that meeting, fearing the day when she would have to marry him. But that event was made far worse by the fact that she’d fallen in love with one of her father’s knights, a man who hadn’t been permitted to accompany the party on their journey to the St. Agnes caves. Tavish St. Erth had remained behind, in command of Larrigan Castle, seat of the House of de Sansen, and Lyonette was inconsolable.

  Everybody knew it. Her father knew it. As far as her father was concerned, everyone in Cornwall knew it. The lass had kept up a steady stream of tears since leaving home, making sure her misery was known far and wide. Now, on the third day of it, de Sansen couldn’t take anymore. The heat, and her tears, were dissolving what little patience he had left. On top of making sure this marriage happened, now he had to worry about the groom meeting his swollen-faced bride.

  He’d be lucky if the man didn’t run.

  “Lyonette,” de Sansen finally hissed. “My dearest darling, you are going to make yourself ill if you do not shut that hole in your face!”

  He shouted the last six words. Lyonette, riding behind her father with a white kerchief pressed up against her swollen eyes, stopped weeping out of sheer shock. Her father never spoke to her that way. But since the beginning of this journey, he seemed to have turned into a completely different person. At least, that’s how she felt. The kind, loving father she’d always known had turned into a beast. Hurt by his words, she burst out into fresh tears.

  A collective groan went up through the contingent of men as the lady’s tears started fresh. Everyone looked at each other and shook their heads, resigning themselves to more hysterics. Riding at the front of the group astride his very expensive Belgian warmblood, Lord de Sansen rolled his eyes.

  “Lyonette!” he boomed. “Enough! You are going to drive all of us daft with your weeping!”

  Lyonette sniffled into her fine kerchief. “I cannot help it,” she said. “How could you be so cruel to force me to marry a… a brute!”

  De Sansen slapped a hand against his forehead in a frustrated gesture. “We have had this discussion too many times, my dear,” he said through clenched teeth. “Rhodes de Leybourne was a young man the last time you saw him. Young men are often foolish and cruel. But he has grown into a very prestigious knight and I am quite sure you have nothing to fear from him.”

  Red-faced to match her flaming red hair, pale and slender Lyonette was only moderately pretty on a good day but, at the moment, she looked terrible. Her father’s words only made her cry harder.

  “But I do not want to marry him,” she rasped, the kerchief all stuck up into her face. “I do not want him!”

  “It does not matter what you want.”

  “I do not love him!”

  “Love is of no consequence. Stop acting like a foolish girl, Lyonette. You are only making this worse for everyone involved.”

  Sobbing loudly, Lyonette kicked her little mare so it began to trot and she ended up right next to her father. For what she had to say, she didn’t want to shout it for all to hear. They knew too much of her business already.

  “Papa, please,” she begged. “You know I love Tavish. I have loved him for as long as I can recall. Is this marriage to de Leybourne so important that you do not care for my happiness?”

  De Sansen sighed heavily. “We have been through this subject before, my sweet. Too many times.”

  “Why can you not consider what I want?”

  “Because this marriage has been planned since you were a child. You have known this is coming for at least ten years. You have had ample time to prepare for it.”

  Lyonette was becoming angry with him, as she so often had throughout this journey. “I did not plan to fall in love with Tavish,” she insisted. “It was something that simply happened, beyond my control. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that does not matter to you?”

  De Sansen turned to her, looking dead-on into her eyes. “I can honestly look you in the eye and tell you that it does not matter to me.”

  Lyonette was outraged that he evidently made light of her question. “Papa!” she cried. “That is a terrible and cruel thing to say to me. Do you not love me more than that?”

  De Sansen looked away from her, struggling with his patience and with his laughter. It was so easy to goad her at times, something that greatly entertained him. At the moment, he was looking desperately for something to entertain him because he was genuinely afraid he might throttle his daughter simply to shut her up.

  “I love you a great deal,” he said. “That is why I made this bargain with Tyringham. I know you are frightened, Lyonette, and I know that you fancy yourself in love with St. Erth. But believe me when I tell you that those feelings will fade once you have married Rhodes. He is a very fine knight and much respected in military circles. I have heard that women find him very attractive, so mayhap you will like what you see and accept your destiny as his wife. Please, Lyonette… for me, will you please try?”

  She was stubborn. “I cannot, Papa.”

  “Why not? Haven’t I always done what I felt best for you?”

  “Aye, but….”

  He cut her off. “Have I not always given you everything you have ever wanted?”

  Lyonette was starting to feel a twinge of guilt. “Aye, but…!”

  He cut her off again. “Then trust that I know that this will be the right thing for you. You will thank me someday.”

  Lyonette doubted it. Her father was just as determined as he ever was that she should marry a man who had thrown rocks at her. It didn’t even matter that she loved someone else, the sweet and sensitive Tavish, whom her father had liked up until he realized Tavish was a man who had stolen his daughter’s heart. That had been two years ago and, ever since that time, her father had made life very difficult for Tavish. But because Tavish loved Lyonette, he had taken the abuse and the cruelty. The only reason de Sansen didn’t banish Tavish was because he was the son of an old friend and he’d promise the man a good position for his son. Lyonette knew her father had regretted that promise but she didn’t.

  In fact, she’d made a promise of her own.

  Lyonette had never been one to disobey her father but it had come to the point where she was going to have to make that choice. They were nearing St. Agnes, as it was only a few hours’ ride from this point. She knew she would have to act now or risk never having the opportunity again.

  Frustrated with her father, and determined to have her own way regardless of family ties or bargains or honor, she reined her mare around in the opposite direction. De Sansen noticed.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  Sniffling, Lyonette scowled at her father. “I will not ride up front with you,” she declared. “I am going to the rear. You can ride by yourself and think about how you are ruining my life.”

  De Sansen cast her a long look. “Ruining your life?” he snorted. “Mayhap it is best if you go ride by yourself for a while. You can think about how poorly you have acted and amend your ways.”

  Lyonette didn’t reply. She trotted her little horse back through the column, pushing men aside until she reached the very rear where the provisions wagon was. To the rear of the provisions wagon, a lone soldier on an old horse plodded along. When the soldier saw her approach, he hung back, just a bit, and waited for the distance to increase between him and the wagon.

  Lyonette, her eye on the soldier, took up position just at the rear of the wagon with the mount
ed soldier several paces behind her. The grinding of the wheels was loud enough to muffle any conversation.

  “He will not go back on his word,” Lyonette turned slightly, speaking to the mounted soldier. “If we are to act, it must be now.”

  Tavish St. Erth had his eyes on his liege up at the head of the column. “I did not think he would change his mind,” he said. “But if he knew I was here…”

  Lyonette nodded, unwilling to let him finish that statement because they both knew what would happen if de Sansen discovered that Tavish had disguised himself as a common soldier to accompany the party to St. Agnes. Only a few soldiers around him knew that it was really him but he had paid them enough coinage so they would keep their mouths shut. Or, at least they had so far. But every second that passed was another second where that secret could be discovered.

  It was time to act on something he and Lyonette had been planning for quite some time.

  “We are not far from St. Agnes,” Lyonette said. “Papa has sent me to the rear of the column to amend my behavior.”

  The wagon driver heard her voice and, thinking she was speaking to him, turned to look at her. Realizing she had the man’s attention, Lyonette began to weep loudly and the wagon driver quickly turned away from her because no one wanted to bother with a weeping woman. As the man looked away from her, pretending not to notice her at all, Lyonette slowed her mare so that it was almost parallel with Tavish’s.

  “I have tried to speak with him,” she said to Tavish. “My father will not change his mind.”

  Tavish knew that. He was well aware of the stubborn nature of his liege. “Then I must take matters into my own hands,” he said. “Truro is to the south of us by a couple of miles. We can make it to the cathedral there and have a priest marry us before your father even realizes that you are missing.”

  Lyonette gazed at the man she adored with all of her heart. “Then we run?”

  “We run. If your father will not listen to reason, then neither shall we. After two years of pleading with the man, he only has himself to blame for our actions.”