Shadow of the Swan

by Judith Sterling

  “No. I cannot.”

  He frowned. “You’re that frightened?”

  The clothier chose that moment to return. He rested his hands on two bolts of fabric and cast a curious look at the three of them. In silent agreement, they moved out of hearing range.

  Constance’s gaze darted to and fro. “I can travel without my belongings, but I’ll need a mount.”

  Robert nodded. “Guy and I passed the horse market earlier. Mostly pack mules and nervous colts, but I did spot a palfrey among them. Have you means to buy it?”

  “Not with me, but—”

  “Say no more. I’ll take care of it.”

  She bit her lip. “Someone should also notify the Mother Prioress.”

  “I’ll take care of that too.”

  Her smile rewarded him. “Sir, you are generosity itself.”

  Grinning, he puffed out his chest. “I am, aren’t I?” Helping her felt good. Great, in fact. He turned to his squire. “Buy your cloth, Guy, and stay close to her ladyship. I’ll return anon.”

  He hastened to the nunnery and easily gained an audience with the prioress in the courtyard.

  She accepted his tidings with a furrowed brow but more civility than he’d expected. “How long will she be away?”

  He shrugged. “Her ladyship didn’t say, but I wouldn’t anticipate a long absence.”

  “And you make for Ravenwood immediately?”

  “Aye, Your Reverence.” A sudden movement caught his eye, and he looked left.

  Close enough to eavesdrop, Archdeacon Dominy peered out from behind a stone pillar. He stared hard at the knight, then sank back into the shadows of the cloister.

  A warning seized the pit of Robert’s stomach. The archdeacon was trouble. What hold had he over Lady Constance? Her fear was not unfounded. Of that, he was certain.

  “Thank you for informing me of her plans,” the prioress said, oblivious to the snake in her garden. “God go with her.”

  Robert clenched his fists. I don’t know about God. But I’ll be there.

  Chapter Two

  Constance scanned the surrounding hills and crags as she rode northward. Her escorts—Sir Robert on his destrier and Guy on his rouncey—flanked her. She’d made the right decision, about the journey and the removal of her headdress. The sun beat down on them. Little to none of the cooling breeze would’ve breached her veil.

  Robert’s deep voice invaded her reverie. “What are your thoughts, my lady?”

  She kept her gaze on the horizon. “Why do you ask?”

  “I grow weary of silence, and conversation will shorten the ride. Not in miles, perhaps…”

  “But in perception. I understand.” She glanced his way, then stared as his grin revealed the deepest dimples she’d ever seen. “What?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. So…your thoughts.”

  “Yours first.” She tightened her grip on the reins.

  “Very well. I was thinking how lucky we were to meet.”

  She looked up as an eagle soared across the cloudless sky. “Luck had no part in it. ’Twas divine providence.”

  “I don’t believe in that.”

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.” He looked straight ahead.

  “You doubt the concept of God’s design? Or you deny His existence?”

  “Both.”

  Her mouth fell open. ’Twas quite an admission, one she never would’ve expected from a knight, or from anyone who faced the horrors of battle.

  His towheaded squire piped up. “You see, my lady? Brutal honesty, as I said before.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, Guy.” He believed she shared that quality, but there was much she didn’t say. A whole world of words and emotions hidden in her mind and heart.

  “He often is,” Robert remarked.

  She turned back to him. “You truly think God had no hand in your knighthood?”

  “That was more my brother’s doing.”

  “You mean Lord Ravenwood. The tales of his deeds have traveled wide.”

  Robert’s expression turned wistful. “He always knew he wanted to be a knight…and was younger than most when he became one. His passion made quite an impact on me.”

  “I guess it did, for here you sit, a knight yourself.”

  “And what of your vocation? What made you want to take the veil?”

  Her heart hurt as she recalled her younger self. “Deep faith and a sincere desire to serve.”

  “Admirable reasons, but why should they make you sad?”

  She averted her gaze. “I am not sad.”

  “Forgive me, but you are. Can I help you?”

  She took a deep breath, then blew it out. “You already are, by taking me to my sister.”

  He was watching her; she could feel it. “My lady, if there’s something—”

  “I’ve had enough of conversation, thank you. I…I missed Sext—”

  “Sex? Do you speak of gender?”

  “Sext, Sir Robert. One of our daily devotions at the nunnery.”

  “Oh. I thought perhaps you missed having contact with men.” His gray eyes sparkled in a most disturbing way.

  “Hardly.” She shifted in her saddle. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to pray in silence until we reach Ravenwood.”

  Robert glanced at his squire, then gave her a nod. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Good, she thought. Let him think me devout. Let him see me as the nun I intend to be.

  Unbroken quiet blessed the remainder of their journey, even as they approached Ravenwood’s gatehouse, but a plethora of people greeted Sir Robert the instant they entered the bailey. He was obviously well liked. His casual manner and the generosity she’d seen firsthand invited nothing less.

  They reined in their horses. Across the courtyard, a brown-haired, strapping lad raised his arm and called out, “Guy!”

  “Geoffrey!” Guy returned with a wave.

  With speed and agility, Robert dismounted his destrier. “Geoffrey is my brother’s squire.” He held out his hand to her. “My lady.”

  She hesitated but accepted it. His hand was warm and sure as he helped her down. Even after her feet touched ground, he held fast to her hand. Eyes of steel arrested her gaze.

  Her stomach fluttered. “Sir Robert.”

  “Lady Constance.” His voice was soft, suggestive.

  “My hand. May I have it back?”

  Her question broke the spell. Shaking his head, he released her. “Of course.” He looked to his squire. “Guy, see to our horses.”

  Guy dismounted. “Right away, sir.”

  Robert turned back to her. “Come. Let’s look for Lady Ravenwood.”

  Constance followed him through the bailey, all the while staring at the battlements. The gleaming white keep was every bit as impressive as those of Norman construction.

  He stopped short, and she bumped into him.

  “Oh!” Heat filled her cheeks. “Forgive me.”

  The dimples were back. “There’s naught to forgive. This is her ladyship’s workshop.”

  They stood in front of a wooden hut. A female voice from within called out, “Do my ears deceive me?”

  Out rushed an elderly woman with violet eyes and an even-toothed smile that was impossibly white. “I thought so!” She looked over her shoulder. “Emma! Sir Robert is back, and he has a guest.”

  Behind her, a second woman with eyes the same shade as the first emerged. She adjusted her couvre-chef and grinned at Robert. Resting her hands on her pregnant belly, she turned a curious eye on Constance.

  Robert cleared his throat. “Lady Ravenwood, Lady Margaret, may I present Lady Constance de Bret?” He turned. “Lady Constance, this is Lady Ravenwood and her great-grandaunt, Lady Margaret.”

  Emma smiled. “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance. De Bret, is it?”

  Constance nodded. “I believe you met my sister, Lady Nihtscua.”

  Emma’s violet eyes twinkled.
“Lady Nihtscua? Why, yes! She stayed with us last autumn.”

  “She made a beautiful bride.” Lady Margaret beamed at Constance. “My dear, I’m so pleased to meet you at last! Do call me Meg.”

  Constance blinked. The woman’s behavior was even more relaxed than Sir Robert’s. “Very well. Meg.”

  Robert frowned. “Meg, you said ‘at last.’ What did you mean?”

  For an instant, Meg’s eyes widened. Then she regained her composure. “Lady Nihtscua mentioned a sister…and we’re fortunate to make her acquaintance at last.”

  Emma stared at Meg for a long moment, then exchanged a knowing look with Robert. “Indeed.” She turned back to Constance. “We are fortunate. But if I may ask, what brings you hither?”

  “I’m on my way to Nihtscua to visit my sister. Sir Robert agreed to escort me.”

  Emma looked from the would-be nun to the knight. “Did you two meet at Seacrest?”

  He shook his head. “In Newcastle. Her ladyship is a postulant at St. Bartholomew’s.”

  Meg raised her eyebrows. “Is she now?”

  Constance studied Meg’s countenance. Something in the woman’s tone implied she knew more than she disclosed.

  A raven glided into view and landed atop the workshop. It cast an eye on Constance, adding to her audience. Three servants scuttled past; then two more. All of them glanced her way.

  A sigh wanted out, but she held it in. She had no desire to appear rude. Neither did she wish to be the center of attention. She fidgeted under the weight of it.

  With her head tilted like the raven’s, Meg watched Constance. Then she grinned at Robert. “How noble of you to act as escort.”

  “Indeed.” Emma rubbed her belly.

  Robert shrugged. “I help where I can. I trust you’ll have no objections to our staying the night before we continue on the morrow.”

  “None whatsoever.” Emma’s shrewd gaze sought Constance. “You are most welcome…for as long as you have need of us. And now, I think you must be tired. Shall I show you where to rest?”

  Aye, thought Constance. There are too many bodies about. Too many questions I cannot answer hanging in the air. “I assume you have a chapel. I would go thither instead.”

  Emma nodded. “Of course. I’ll show you the way.”

  Constance dared not look at Emma, Meg, Robert, or even the raven. Instead, she focused on the extensive herb garden. No prying eyes there!

  With quick steps, she followed Emma around to the forebuilding and up the broad, stone steps into the keep. Hold on. Keep moving. Almost there.

  ****

  Robert observed his older brother from the stairwell that opened onto the battlements. The lord’s raven hair had grown a bit since last Robert saw him. Proud, tall, and noticeably relaxed, William stood before a gap in the crenellated wall and surveyed his lands.

  With a smooth gait, Robert joined him along the parapet. “You are all contentment these days.”

  William turned. “Robert. When did you get back?”

  “Almost this instant.”

  “How fares our brother?”

  Robert shrugged. “You know Hugh. Absorbed. Dedicated to Seacrest. Determined to do things his way…especially where ladies are concerned.”

  “Much to Mother’s dismay, no doubt.”

  “She understands him, so she keeps her impatience in check.”

  “Hugh needs to be realistic.” William lowered his voice as a sentry marched by. “’Tis time he married.”

  “Well past, if you ask me. I urged him to think on it.”

  William raised a hand and ran his palm along the stone merlon between them. “You might want to think on it yourself.”

  Robert looked sharply at him, then shifted his gaze to the patchwork of manor lands that stretched toward the horizon. “I have. More than you know.”

  “Well, well. Has a maiden stolen your heart?”

  “Not my heart. But somehow, she stole into my mind.”

  “How now?”

  Robert conjured the memory, every detail of which was etched in his mind. “I had a most extraordinary dream while we were in the Holy Land.”

  “About?”

  “A young woman.”

  William raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve thought of her ever since?”

  “A time or two, but never more than today.”

  William rubbed his chin. “You’re not one to harbor secrets. Why didn’t you mention the dream when it happened?”

  “You weren’t around.” His stomach in knots, Robert regarded his brother. “You were shackled in Hattin’s dungeon.”

  William’s face darkened. “I see.”

  “The dream came when I was at my lowest. Earlier that day, we tried to pay your ransom, but Hattin refused it yet again. I realized then he’d never let you go.”

  A muscle worked in William’s jaw. “He relished my pain.”

  Robert turned toward the parapet. Unseeing, he stared into the distance. “I left the encampment and ran off into the night. Eventually, I fell to my knees. I started to pray, but I just couldn’t. Bitterness and rage choked me.”

  “Robert—”

  “Night after night, I’d lain in comfort, while Hattin tortured you. Mercilessly. Repeatedly. If in truth God existed, how could He let you suffer? Was it all His sick jest? Or was He the jest…invented by millions who only wished Him to be real? I got to my feet. Then and there, I renounced my faith in God and the Holy Church.”

  William watched him for a long moment. “I knew our time there changed you. But I never realized ’twas a direct result of my imprisonment.”

  “Well, now you know.” Robert squinted at the blaring sun. “My wrath followed me back to camp and even into sleep. But then I dreamt…at least, I think I did. It had to be a dream.”

  “Describe it.”

  Robert’s memory took hold. “I stood before a beautiful woman with chestnut hair and eyes of gold. As I stared into her eyes, a feeling of peace rushed over me. She spoke not a word, but her presence comforted me…encouraged me to go on. She reached out, and I melted into her embrace. Then I awoke, very much alone. I remember thinking that if such a woman existed in real life, I’d marry her faster than an arrow meets its mark.”

  “Because of her beauty?”

  “Because of the harmony she bestowed upon me.”

  William whistled. “’Twas quite a dream.”

  “Aye, and it healed me, to a point.” Robert turned back to him. “It took the edge off my anger. From then on, I believed…no, I knew we’d free you. Two days later, we laid siege to Hattin’s fortress.”

  The brothers peered beyond the castle banks to the expansive countryside. They’d earned this present peace, together.

  Robert sighed. “Forgive me for bringing up the past.”

  William clapped him on the back. “You’re forgiven. Now is more important, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “Indeed you are. Soon to be a father. Married to an angel.”

  “It seems you met your own angel. Alas, only in a dream.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  With furrowed brow, William regarded him. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s with me now.”

  William’s frown deepened. “Do you talk of spirits?”

  Robert shook his head. “Flesh and blood. We traveled north together.”

  William gave him a dubious look. “She’s here. At Ravenwood. Now?”

  “She is. We met in Newcastle this morning, and she’s the very likeness of the woman in my dream.”

  “Incredible.”

  “But true. Stranger still, she’s Lady Nihtscua’s sister.”

  “No!” William slapped a hand on the stone wall. “I must meet her.” He started for the stairs.

  Arms outstretched, Robert leapt into his path. “And meet her you shall. Later. Let’s not overwhelm the poor girl.”

  “If she hails from the house de Bret, she’s not poor.”

 
“Not in terms of wealth, perhaps.”

  William frowned. “Then how?”

  Robert looked skyward as a rogue cloud challenged the sun. I would I knew.

  Chapter Three

  Basking in the solitude and serenity of Ravenwood’s chapel, Constance knelt before the altar and stared up at the stained-glass window. She had no idea how long she’d been there, but her nerves had finally smoothened. Her knees, however, needed a break. With a sigh, she stood and stretched.

  The window and chapel darkened as the sunlight faltered outside. The shuffle of footsteps invaded the sanctum, and she turned.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse quickened.

  Dominy!

  She stared in disbelief at his hated eyes. His ruddy cheeks and greasy, graying hair.

  He smirked. “Miss me?”

  Sweat chilled every inch of her body. She couldn’t speak.

  “What?” the archdeacon prodded. “No flowery words to welcome me?”

  She glanced at his pectoral cross. Then she steeled herself and found her tongue. “How…when…why are you here?”

  Shrugging, he played at nonchalance. “Father Cedric, Ravenwood’s priest, is my cousin.”

  By all the saints! First the Mother Prioress and now this! “Have you kin over all creation, or just where I choose to be?”

  He leered at her. “My, we think highly of ourselves, don’t we?”

  “Do not presume to know what I think…of myself or anyone else.”

  “Ha! I could always read your thoughts.” He slunk toward her.

  She recoiled and backed into the hard altar. “Is that the lie you tell yourself when you seek God’s favor?”

  “I needn’t seek it. ’Tis already mine.”

  “Because you’ve been made an archdeacon?”

  He raised his chin and pursed his thin lips. “Because I know God’s will.”

  “Only if He’s in league with Satan.”

  His beady eyes flared. “Sacrilege!”

  “Truth!”

  “Women know naught of truth.”

  Heat flooded through her. “The Mother Prioress would be sorry to hear that.”

  “She was sorry to learn of your leaving.”

  Constance frowned. “How do you know?”

  “I overheard her conversation with the knight. As soon as he mentioned Ravenwood, I knew I must visit my cousin.”