Shadow of the Swan

by Judith Sterling

  He caressed her cheek. “My lady.” They shared a long, tender look, then he turned to Constance. “You make a lovely bride.”

  She summoned a smile. “Thank you.”

  He approached her. “I wondered…would you allow me the honor of escorting you to the altar? You’re my sister now, too.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She’d always wanted a brother, and Lord Nihtscua seemed the best of men. So thoughtful and accepting.

  She found her voice. “The honor is mine.”

  He grinned. “Are you ready then?”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. Am I ready? To turn my back on the nunnery? To truss myself to a man for life?

  Ready or not, her choice was clear. “I am.”

  Wulfstan held out his hand. She took it with resolve.

  Without warning, he went rigid. His eyes glazed over.

  Jocelyn rushed toward them. “He’s having a vision. Be still!”

  Constance froze. Only her eyes moved in a glance toward Alice and Tilda. Wide-eyed, the handmaidens stared at his lordship.

  A seemingly endless moment passed. Then he flinched, shook his head, and pulled away from her. Sweat glistened on his pale face.

  Jocelyn put an arm around him. “Dearest, are you well?”

  He regarded his wife. “I’m well enough.” His gaze shot to the bride. “But oh, what you’ve endured!” He ran a hand through his hair.

  Constance’s stomach dropped. “What? How?” She glared at her sister. “You told him?”

  “No!” Jocelyn turned to the handmaidens. “Thank you both for your assistance. Prithee, leave us.”

  Tilda wrung her hands and exchanged a worried look with Alice. “Aye, my lady.”

  “Aye, my lady,” Alice intoned.

  As one, they scurried out of the chamber.

  Jocelyn shut the door behind them, then hurried to Constance’s side. “Let me explain. Sometimes, when my husband touches people, he sees what hurt them…a vision of their darkest moment from their point of view. He hears their thoughts and feels what they felt at the time.”

  Constance looked sidewise at Wulfstan. “Is that why you asked to walk me down the aisle? So our hands would touch and you could read my memory?”

  “What?” He held up his hands. “No.”

  “My sister didn’t drive you to it?”

  “She had no hand in it. I only wanted you to feel welcome and valued. I didn’t know I’d have a vision…or that there was one to have.”

  His words rang true. She sighed. What’s wrong with me? How could I accuse them of plotting against me? “I believe you. Pray, forgive me. I’m not myself today.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “Naturally. Don’t distress yourself.”

  Jocelyn regarded her. “Perchance ’tis better he knows.”

  “Better? How?”

  “Secrets are a menace. Besides, there’s a chance he glimpsed more than you remember. You did faint, after all.”

  Constance nodded. “I did. After Father…no. I shan’t use his titles any longer. After Dominy grabbed me, the last thing I saw was…” She shivered. “His face.”

  Jocelyn turned to Wulfstan. “Did you see anything beyond that?”

  Constance held her breath. What really happened that dreadful day?

  Wulfstan frowned, then met her gaze. “There was one thing. A shadow of movement to my—to your—left, right before you closed your eyes.”

  “A person?” Jocelyn mirrored his frown.

  He shrugged. “Mayhap.”

  Constance scanned her memory. Conspicuous and crisp, every detail of the sacristy remained. The door was to her left as she fell. “Did someone else enter? Did they see us together?”

  Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “If so, Dominy would surely have stopped. Perhaps nothing else happened!”

  Constance’s pulse quickened. Was it true? After all this time and all she’d feared, was her maidenhead intact? How miraculous ’twould be if…

  Her heart sank. No. How could it be true? She’d known from the moment she awoke in that cold sacristy something was wrong. Lost forever.

  She shuddered at the memory. Cold. Aye. There’d been a distinct chill in the sacristy. Someone had opened the shutters, and the wind was in a fury.

  Jocelyn touched her arm. “What is it?”

  Constance looked from her to Wulfstan. “A storm was brewing that day, and the window was open. Perhaps you merely saw an object carried on the wind.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Possibly, but the point is I saw something, and I trust ’twill give you hope. In the meantime, Sir Robert waits in the chapel. Shall we go?”

  She nodded and turned to her sister. Jocelyn’s bright, brown eyes gave her strength.

  I can do this. All will be well.

  They hastened down the spiral stairs, through a small chamber, and up another staircase. At the chapel’s entrance, they paused. Just inside, Lord and Lady Ravenwood sat with their heads together and downcast. Emma chuckled as William rubbed her swollen belly.

  They radiated joy. Constance felt it as a tingling sensation on her flesh and in her bones. She glanced at Jocelyn and Wulfstan. They stared into each other’s eyes.

  It hit her again. Pure, palpable bliss.

  With an inward sigh, she stepped beneath the ornate archway. Then her breath caught in her throat.

  Dominy. Alone at the back of the chapel. Arms crossed. Ill will incarnate. Watching her.

  Lord Nihtscua whispered in her ear. “Say the word, and I’ll remove him.”

  Constance tore her gaze from the archdeacon and regarded Wulfstan. His ice blue eyes were intense. He meant what he said.

  She stole a peek at her sister. Red-faced, Jocelyn glowered at Dominy.

  “Leave him be,” Constance murmured, as much to the lady as the lord.

  She stared at the stone floor, forcing herself to ignore the archdeacon. Nothing would irk him more. No doubt you’re here to see if the wedding will actually occur. Well, watch this, you flea-ridden woodcock!

  Turning toward the altar, she looked up and into Robert’s eyes. Even from a distance, they held her. And they bespoke a harvest of blessings she’d never hoped to receive from a man.

  Admiration. Loyalty. Respect.

  Her peripheral vision registered his blue and gray attire, finery such as he might wear to court. But his garb was trivial and beside the point. Her focus—and her future—rested in his eyes.

  Wulfstan offered her his arm. “Ready, my lady?”

  She lifted her chin. “Ready.”

  ****

  The ride north was easy and cool, shielded by the trees of the North Woods. The party numbered four: Robert and Wulfstan in front; Constance and Jocelyn several horse lengths behind them. The afternoon waned as they neared the turnoff to Druid’s Head.

  Twisting in the saddle, Robert glimpsed his bride over his shoulder. She looked as lovely in travel clothes as she had in golden silk. How could she be so blind to her own beauty?

  Archdeacon Dominy certainly noticed it. Robert had half-expected him to protest when Father Cedric asked for objections during the ceremony. As it happened, Dominy sulked in silence, then disappeared as soon as the union was sealed. His absence wounded no one.

  Robert stole another peek at Constance. They’d hardly spoken since the ceremony, though she’d conversed at length with Jocelyn and Emma over dinner. ’Twas only natural she preferred the society of women after her stint in the nunnery. And he had time to help her relax in his company. A lifetime, in fact. So he’d chatted with the men and focused on the meal. The spontaneous wedding prevented a full-out banquet, but there was an abundance and variety of food and drink.

  As if to prove that point, he now belched with zest. His powerful, gray destrier, Belfry, pricked up his ears.

  Wulfstan’s lips twisted. “Impressive. But hadn’t you better turn your skills toward charming your wife? We’re about to part ways, and the two of you will have only each other for am
usement.”

  Robert sighed. “What shall I say to her? Who is she? What does she like…besides prayers and nuns ’til doomsday?”

  “I understand. In the beginning, my wife was as much a mystery to me as Lady Constance is to you. But you’ll find your path, as we did.”

  “But will it lead all the way to the bedchamber?”

  Wulfstan shrugged. “’Tis anyone’s guess. Two words of advice, though.”

  “Please. I’ll take as many as you would give.”

  “First, see to her comfort, and not just the physical kind.”

  Robert nodded. “Emotional, you mean.” He looked sideways at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  Wulfstan stared straight ahead. “Perhaps.”

  “Then—”

  “Ask not, Robert. The lady will tell you when she’s ready. But you can help her along with patience and gentleness, both of which I know you possess.”

  “Right. See to her comfort so she’ll relax and talk freely. Sound counsel. What else would you advise?”

  Wulfstan gave him a pointed look. “Share the same bedchamber.”

  Robert’s stomach twitched. “Easier said than done, though it worked wonders for your marriage.”

  “Thanks to your scheming.”

  Robert raised his eyebrows. “You knew?”

  “I suspected. But I’ll never forget your advice, to think of my wife as a friend. It got me through the door and into the chamber.”

  “Because it took the pressure off.”

  “Exactly. As friends, we didn’t have to be lovers…until we had to.” Wulfstan grinned. “Court your bride’s friendship. That’s the first step.”

  “Aye. Friends can share a bedchamber.” Or even a bed. He frowned. But how do I convince her?

  “Ah. Your turnoff.”

  Wulfstan reined in his white stallion at the crossroads, and Robert followed suit. The road to the left led to the neighboring hamlet of Preostbi. Not ten miles to the north was a larger village, over which Nihtscua Keep towered. Druid’s Head—cradled by the North Woods on three sides and the Long Wood on the fourth—waited a short distance down the road to the right.

  Robert’s heart leapt. Home!

  At long last, his own estate, and someone with whom to share it. Not in the way he’d always imagined, but that could change. From their first meeting, a bond existed. Marriage bound them further. Their relationship had every chance of thriving and becoming…

  Whoa! Steady on. One step at a time.

  “They’re coming.” Wulfstan glanced at the approaching ladies. “Good luck, my friend.”

  Robert gave him a meaningful look, then shifted his gaze to Constance as she slowed her horse. She wore the veil of a married woman now. She was his wife. For better, for worse.

  She smiled at Wulfstan. “Thank you again.”

  He shook his head. “No thanks required. I’m grateful to have another sister.”

  Jocelyn turned to her. “Sir Robert is a man among men.” She reached out, and Constance clasped her hand. “Be happy.”

  Constance nodded but said nothing. She held steadfast to Jocelyn’s hand.

  “We must go now,” Jocelyn prompted.

  Constance’s grip persisted. “Aye. You must.”

  “’Twould help if my hand went, too.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She released her sister’s hand.

  Robert recalled his arrival at Ravenwood two days before. When he helped Constance off her horse, his unremitting hold on her hand seemed to alarm her. He mustn’t make that mistake again.

  Jocelyn rode up beside Wulfstan. “Homeward, my lord?”

  “With all haste.” He turned back to the newlyweds. “Until we meet again.”

  Lord and Lady Nihtscua urged their mounts onward.

  “Fare thee well!” Robert called after them. He cast a furtive glance at Constance.

  She offered a shaky wave to the departing couple. “Godspeed.”

  So frightened, he thought. His tension dissolved into a perfect need to calm her fears.

  “Lady Constance, look at me.”

  Her gaze shifted his way.

  “Fear has no place between us.”

  Her soft, pink lips held her speech captive.

  He sighed inwardly. “I would start our marriage with trust.”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “Would you?”

  “Lo, she speaks! My lady, set your worries aside. I want to be your friend.”

  She peered down the road her sister traveled, then regarded him. “I want that as well.”

  He smiled. “Good. Then let’s carry on to Druid’s Head. This way.”

  They started eastward. A cool breeze woke the forest.

  With eyes closed, he leaned his head back. “I love that sound.”

  “The rustle of leaves?”

  “Aye.” He opened his eyes. “It holds such promise.”

  “Promise? Of what?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Excitement. Adventure. Anything one desires.”

  Her expression turned droll. “All that? From just a trace of wind?”

  “Absolutely. You should know now, before we go any farther, I have an active imagination.”

  She chuckled. “Active? Try flamboyant.”

  “You’ll learn to live with it.” He gave her a winning grin. “You have a beautiful laugh, by the way.”

  Color crept into her cheeks. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “And while we’re on the subject…”

  “Of my laugh?”

  He shook his head. “Of imagination. You may hear tales once we’ve settled in at Druid’s Head. Some are saying ’tis haunted. But I set no store by such imaginings.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “First, you disallow the existence of God. Now you refute ghosts. Is there anything you do believe in?”

  He gathered his thoughts. “I believe in loyalty. And the skill of master masons. Hauberks in battle. Curfews during times of trouble. I believe a good, rich sauce renders meat sublime.” He turned to her. “And I believe in you.”

  She stared at him. “Me?”

  “Aye. But tell me, do you believe in ghosts?”

  “I’m a near-novice fresh from the nunnery. What do you think?”

  He dropped his gaze to Belfry’s mane. “Well…”

  “Angels abound in scripture. Then there’s the Holy Ghost. And my mother swears she’s seen my father’s ghost, not once but thrice. In my opinion, spirits are everywhere.”

  He regarded her again. “You sound so rational. Where are your emotions?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Wouldn’t you be scared if you saw a ghost?”

  She looked pensive. “I might be startled. But what’s to fear? If there are ghosts at Druid’s Head, they’re simply people without bodies. Not worth the worry…unless they were cruel in life. That trait might linger beyond the grave.”

  Incredible, he thought. Where was that courage when the archdeacon skulked into view? Or when Lord and Lady Nihtscua left them alone at the crossroads? Mayhap she feared he’d consummate their marriage then and there. But ghosts? No problem.

  He studied her profile. The harmonious features. The slightly upturned nose. Elegance made flesh, masking an inner strength many would never suspect. “Nerves of steel.”

  She turned her head, and her gaze seized his. “Eyes of steel.” She blinked, then blushed. “Forgive me. I don’t know why I said that.”

  Perchance you find me pleasing, too. “Say whatever you will. That’s what friends do.”

  She gave him a tentative smile. Then she looked forward as they entered the fertile field that housed the motte-and-bailey castle of Druid’s Head.

  The mound itself was nearly forty feet high. The stone keep that crowned it rose two stories above its stockrooms and protective wall. Down the front of the motte, a long run of stone steps connected the keep to the large, enclosed courtyard below. A strong, wooden palisade and dit
ch bordered the whole.

  Robert grinned. “Home at last. What do you think?”

  A smile toyed with her lips. “It does look like a home. Perfectly situated and cozier than where I grew up.”

  “Then you approve?”

  “Aye.”

  His chest swelled with pride. He could make her happy. They’d both be—

  “Upon first glance,” she added.

  Oh. His grin died. Right. One step at a time.

  They rode on in silence until they reached the wooden gatehouse. The stocky gatekeeper straightened as they passed through. “Welcome back, Sir Robert.” He bowed his head. “My lady.”

  Robert nodded to him. “Thank you, Baldric.”

  Guy rushed forward as they entered the bailey. “Sir! Lady Constance! Meg and Alice have prepared for your arrival. They await you up in the keep. Shall I see to the horses?”

  “Aye.” Robert dismounted, then gave his squire a knowing look. “Feeling sprightly, are we? Druid’s Head must agree with you. Or was it the ride north?”

  Guy beamed at him. “Both, sir.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He turned to help Constance down.

  She’d already alighted. With eager eyes, she scanned the courtyard.

  Guy’s voice faded away behind him. “Time to settle in here, Belfry. I know you like the stables…”

  Robert cleared his throat. “Shall we, my lady?”

  She turned to him and nodded. Side by side, they strode across the bailey.

  He pointed. “The soldiers’ quarters. The forge and workshops…and several dwellings beyond.”

  “Is there a chapel?”

  “There was. It burned down recently.”

  She knitted her brow. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Thankfully, no. It happened in the night while most were abed. Since then, many hear mass in the nearby village.”

  “Preostbi, right?”

  He nodded. “Lady Nihtscua told you, did she? Good. You might like to visit it. Now then, there’s the dairy and the bakery…and the garden.” He drank in the scent of roasting meat and salivated. “And as you can smell, the kitchens.”

  She gave him a sidewise glance. “Don’t tell me you’re hungry!”

  “Always.”

  They climbed the stone steps to the top of the mound and passed through a smaller gate. Beyond lay a well-tended garden boasting a yew tree that appeared six feet in girth. They continued on and up the remaining stairs into the keep.