by Lisa Shea
Elizabeth’s spine hardened. There was no way in hell she would let the child anywhere near that lecher. “You can tell that pig of a man that he can rot in a slaver’s hold for all I care,” she spat.
Ron’s face flared brighter than a full-on sunset. “So you admit you stole the child?”
Elizabeth’s hand clenched the sword which still waited ready in her hand. “I admit that man is a swine and no innocent person should be left anywhere near him.”
Ron’s cheeks mottled with fury, and he could barely speak. “You are resisting my authority?” he screamed, his voice cracking, his hand flailing for his sword, seeking to draw it.
There was a scurry of motion, and suddenly Michael was clambering over the wall of hay bales, running to stand beside Elizabeth. His face was timorous and tight, but he stood tall.
“I do not belong to Hyde,” he insisted in a wavering but loud voice. “Hyde offered me food and a bed in return for cleaning the rooms and stables. I accepted. In the two months I stayed in that hell hole, Hyde tried three separate times to climb into bed with me. The last time was a week ago. I left that night and never came back.”
Ron stared in disbelief at the thin waif before him. “Hyde would never do that,” he insisted hotly. “He gives me free ale whenever I come by. He is a perfect gentleman.”
Elizabeth snorted. “And when he lied to Richard, and told him I was not on the premises, the swine then attempted to pressure me into showing my gratitude by having me spread my legs,” she snapped.
Ron’s gaze swung up to meet hers, and something in her eyes made him take in a breath, glance between the two of them. He turned to look up at Richard, and his eyes narrowed as he stared into his face.
“You knew?” he asked his half-brother.
Richard shook his head. “I suspected, but I never had proof. Nobody would come forward against him.” His eyes moved up to the woman and child who stood before him. “If you two would -”
“Absolutely,” Michael huffed out instantly. “I will shout it from the rooftops, if it will bring him to an end.”
Ron turned to look at John, and their faces brightened with fresh glee. “We can go bring him in!” cried out John with delight, and in a moment they were scrambling toward their stabled steeds.
Richard held his gaze on Elizabeth. “I am sorry for what you had to go through,” he quietly offered.
Michael’s eyes lit up with fierce delight. “You should have seen her,” he crowed. “She stood up to that pig. She was a Valkyrie come alive on earth. It was amazing. I never felt as alive as I did in that moment, when she faced off against him.”
Richard looked thoughtfully at Elizabeth, and she sensed a hint of pride, of approval in his eyes. “I wish I had been there.”
Then he glanced over his shoulder at the noise coming from the stables, and, bowing to the two, turned to quickly join the pair. In a moment, the group was thundering out through the open gateway and down the road.
Claire came up behind Elizabeth and Michael, following their gaze. “I guess they know where you are now,” she mused with a half-smile.
Elizabeth found herself looking out to where Richard had vanished from view. She wondered if she were hoping that he would not return again … or that he would.
Lunch was a simple meal of bread and cheese, washed down with freshly made ale from the nunnery’s own brewery. Elizabeth tucked a half loaf under her arm and waved her thanks to Claire as she headed out across the courtyard and up the thin flight of stairs that flanked one of the main gates. She worked her way along the top of the wall, nodding at the guards she passed, until she came around to the side facing the ocean.
She sighed with pleasure, leaning against the cool stone. It really was quite a spectacular sight. The water was the dark color of a deep well, with waves rolling in with steady force. It went on as far as the eye could see. She had grown up with hills and vales, where the line of sight was always interrupted. The sense of distance was stunning.
A friendly voice came at her side. “Impressive, yes? Claire tells me you have never seen the sea before now.”
Elizabeth turned, nodding to the man before her. He was perhaps in his mid-forties, his dark hair silvering along the temples, but his sturdy build showed he was still quite capable of wielding a sword. “You must be Simon, the captain of the guard.”
He nodded, giving a slight bow. “At your service,” he agreed. “I have manned these walls for five years now. The lads beneath me come and go, but I like it here. It is quiet and restful.”
Elizabeth looked back out at the non-stop march of incoming waves. “It certainly seems peaceful now, but I hear pirates are a constant threat?”
“Yes, certainly,” he agreed. “This keep was well constructed, though. They have never breached our walls.” He gave a fond pat to the stone before him. “As long as we man them properly, I have faith that the sisters will be safe here for another hundred years.”
She smiled at that. “That is quite reassuring. Back home, we would be happy to go ten years without bandits launching an attack on us. They did breach the walls, a few decades ago, but we have made improvements since then. So far, the reinforced defenses have held off all attacks.”
Simon nodded. “Claire has told me some of what her childhood was like. A rough area to grow up in.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I imagine no place on earth is ever truly safe from those who would cause harm.” She tore a piece of bread off the loaf, offering it to Simon. He took it with a nod.
“Here, watch this,” he said, grinning. He ripped a small piece of crust and tossed it off into the air.
A seagull swooped in from nowhere and snagged the piece before it had fallen ten feet. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up in delight. “That was amazing,” she cried. She pulled a small piece from her own loaf and threw it as hard as she could toward the sea. Another seagull appeared, plucking the bread easily out of the sky.
Elizabeth laughed. “You do have quite a lovely post, I agree. I am glad to see that you are taking such good care of Claire and her flock.”
Simon’s eyes were serious for a moment. “It is my honor to serve here,” he agreed. “I will not let anything happen to your friend.”
“I am glad to hear it,” returned Elizabeth with warmth. “I will do my best to be helpful during my stay here.”
Simon glanced back toward the keep. “I saw you working with the young lad. You have skill, and the boy is picking it up quickly. We will be glad to have your help on the wall, and if you are ever interested in a sparring partner a bit more your own height, just let me know.”
“I will,” agreed Elizabeth with a smile.
She turned to lean against the sturdy stone, looking out across the vast expanse of ocean. For the first time in a long while, a sense of ease settled into her heart.
*
Elizabeth sat up in the early morning light, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, stretching, and climbing out of bed. She slipped on her dress, strapped on her belt and sword, then made her way down the long spiral stairs. Her feet shuffled, one after the other, as she made her way groggily over toward -
She pulled up to a stop. Richard was sitting on one of the hay bales, a leather jerkin worn over well-fitting leggings, his sword at his side. His eyes held hers with calm regard.
Anger flared through her. What new foolishness was he after today? She stormed over toward him before she could formulate a response, and in an instant he was on his feet, holding out his hands in a placating gesture.
“Peace,” he offered, his voice low. “I have come to make amends. These past few days have not gone smoothly. It is clear that you did not deserve what we put you through.”
“That is for sure,” huffed Elizabeth, fury spiking within her, sending a tingling down her fingers, calling her to draw … to draw …
“Your straw dummy is running out of limbs,” continued Richard with gentle calm. “Let me offer myself in its place, as an apology.”
&nbs
p; Elizabeth stared at him as if he were daft. “You want to do what?” she burst out.
Michael was over the edge of the hay bale in an instant, looking wildly between the two. “Do not do it, Elizabeth,” he insisted with concern.
Richard smiled at that, spreading his hands wide. “I did not quite mean that you should hack me bodily apart,” he clarified. “Just that I could help as a target, for you to show blocks and sweeps to your young student here.”
Michael’s eyes lit up with delight. “Really?”
Richard nodded. “With Elizabeth’s permission, of course.”
Elizabeth still felt the anger surge through her, although it began to throb with a little less heat. “You would interfere with my lessons,” she grumped.
Richard shook his head. “I swear I will only do what you ask, and only in the manner you request of me.”
Elizabeth drew her blade, holding it with both hands, moving the blade until the tip drooped over and behind her right shoulder. “So if I were to tell you to deflect from a high left guard …” She quickly brought the tip up, over, and down hard toward his left shoulder. In an instant he had brought his own sword parallel across the top of his head, lunging to his left, letting her blade slide down its length and skitter off to the side.
Michael’s eyes went wide. “That was amazing!” he shrieked. “Do that again!”
A flush of warmth swept through her at the heartfelt praise. She looked up to Richard and saw the quiet acknowledgment in his own eyes. She almost smiled back, then reset, her blade laying down against her shoulder blade, and again she dove forward, more quickly this time. Again Richard was in perfect alignment with her swing, catching the blade well clear of his shoulder, sending it safely away and down.
Elizabeth broke the move down into slower sections, and worked with Michael on each part, showing him how to move his feet, how to swing the blade at just the right angle. To her surprise Richard was patient and quiet as she took her time. He seemed perfectly content to stand frozen in place as she circled him with Michael, pointing out the finer points of the defense. She knew his sword was heavy, but his arms did not waver as he held it across his head for the long minutes.
Finally Michael was worn down, his moves lagging, and Elizabeth gave him a fond pat on the back. “You are doing very well,” she praised. “We may make a soldier out of you yet.”
“I want to be a nunnery guard, like you!” cried Michael with pleasure.
Elizabeth chuckled softly. “I am not quite a nunnery guard,” she corrected him gently.
Michael looked up at her in confusion. “Then why are you here?”
I had nowhere else to go.
The thought rang through her head, and her good mood deflated, as hopelessness and despair began to infiltrate again.
Richard’s voice was even. “She came because her friend Claire needed help, preparing for the long winter ahead.”
Michael’s eyes shone. “You are a wonderful friend, to come all this way to help her out,” he offered with a wide grin.
Warmth stole back into Elizabeth’s heart, and she looked up at Richard with gratitude. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and then he was sheathing his sword.
“If that is all for today, then I am off,” he stated, giving a low bow. “I thank you for the enjoyable morning.”
Elizabeth found a smile creeping across her face. “Thank you for your help,” she responded. “You were indeed far more useful than that straw dummy had been.”
“I am glad to hear that,” offered Richard, the corner of his mouth quirking into a grin. Then he was turning, heading toward the stables. He mounted his steed and soon he was moving down the path at a canter.
Elizabeth watched him go, and she found herself hoping he would return again tomorrow.
There was a friendly call from the wall, and she smiled, turning to head up and join Simon in the guard’s steady watch.
Chapter 7
A nervous flutter of energy danced in Elizabeth’s stomach as she pulled on her dress, buckled on her sword, and headed down the quiet spiral staircase. She refused to put a name on it, and yet when she stepped out onto the misty keep steps and saw him standing there waiting for her, his sword at his side, pleasure seeped through her entire being.
Richard nodded. “Good morning,” he offered, and the richness of it flowed through her. She realized that it was, against all odds, a wonderful, beautiful morning. Wisps of cloud floated past an azure sky, and her breath came out in white puffs against the crisp chill.
She closed the distance between them with a few quick strides. “Low sweep!” she cried out in delight, pulling her sword free and low and across, and he was there in an instant, sweeping her sword to the side, holding his blade out and ready.
Joy thrilled through her, and she held her sword high, the hilt poised by her right ear.
“Well, come on!” she called out in glee. His eyes were bright with interest; he did not hesitate a moment. In a heartbeat he was in motion, drawing down against her, aiming for her left shoulder, and she danced across the attack, pulling her blade above and left, deflecting his attack down her right arm. He reset in an instant and spun back at her right hip, and she slammed her sword down on his, driving it into the dirt, flipping her blade to pull it in and against his waist as she drove forward and left. His blade came straight up, vertical, blocking the blow solidly, and she leapt back, resetting.
Michael appeared out of nowhere. “God’s teeth!” he cried out in amazement, his face alight. “How did you do that?”
Elizabeth’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Like this!” She dove in at Richard again, and she was turning, swinging, cascading, and always he was there moving with her, catching the blade, his moves sure, strong. She found herself laughing with delight as he foiled one of her twists, as she nearly got in against his thigh.
The man was simply amazing.
Finally she staggered back, waving to Michael, who came over with the skin of ale. She took a long draw on it, her throat parched. She offered it over to Richard, who took it with a nod, draining a portion down before returning it to her.
At last she smiled over at him. “I suppose we should get to the real purpose of your visit.”
“And what do you suppose that might be?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
She flushed and looked away, gathering up the pair of wooden swords, giving one to Michael, the other to Richard. She put Michael through a series of simple blocks and deflections, watching his actions, trying to focus on adjusting his form. But every time she turned it was Richard’s lean body she found her gaze drifting toward, the firm strength in his arms, the steady focus of his gaze.
There was a noise behind her, and she looked up to find that Claire was there with the nun who had greeted her on her arrival. Both women were carrying wooden platters of food.
Claire looked over the group with a chuckle. “Susan and I thought you might be hungry after your long morning,” she offered. “Perhaps a picnic in your ring would make the most of this fine afternoon?”
“You are very gracious,” offered Richard with a bow. “I appreciate the kindness immensely.”
The cheese, pickles, and dried meats were laid out, and in a moment the three sat down to dig into the offerings. Elizabeth noted with a fond smile that Michael was no longer voraciously devouring everything in sight as if it were his last meal on earth. He was still hungry, but eating more regularly brought him a more normal appetite.
Michael spoke between bites of bread. “Even if you do not want to be a nunnery guard,” he offered, picking up yesterday’s conversation as if not a minute had elapsed, “I think that would be the ideal spot for me. I can think of no better way of life.”
“You just want to be surrounded by beautiful women with no other competition for miles,” teased Elizabeth with a grin.
Michael flushed at that, and looked down at his meal, suddenly finding great interest in a hunk of cheese there.
Ri
chard’s eyes went to Michael and Elizabeth, a growing awareness spreading on his face. Finally he settled his gaze on Michael, and his voice was calm, reassuring.
“Michael, you really should tell her.”
Elizabeth looked between them in confusion. “Tell me what?” she asked.
Michael slowly looked up at her, his face a mask of nervous tension. “You promise not to get mad?” he asked in a wavering voice.
Elizabeth blinked. “Of course not,” she insisted. “Get mad about what?”
Michael grew pale, but at last he spoke. “I am a girl,” the wiry creature finally squeaked out. “My real name is Michelle.”
Elizabeth was taken completely off guard. She stared at Michelle, at first telling herself it couldn’t be true. However, as she looked more closely at the eyes, the lips, she realized that in the child’s prepubescent state it was more than a possibility. If the hair were longer, and a dress was added …
“I had to pretend to be a boy,” Michelle spilled into the quiet void which had resulted from her confession. “It was the only way to be safe on my own. Nobody looks twice at a boy running around loose.”
Richard’s low voice chimed in. “When I went to find records for an orphaned child during the past year, I could find no boy,” he explained. “I did, however, find a girl whose parents both died of a weeping sickness about eight months ago. She had supposedly been sent to live with a distant uncle, but there was no indication that she had ever arrived.”
“The man was a lecher,” snapped Michelle coldly. “I had only seen him once in my life, and once was enough. There was no way I was going to live in his house.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Of course,” she agreed, wrapping her mind around this new twist. “I am just surprised that I never noticed, all these days! I would have thought that something would have given you away.”
Michelle shrugged, going back to gnaw on one of the hunks of cheese. “People see what they expect to see,” she mused. “They expect to see a rag-a-muffin boy climbing about in pants, and they take it for granted.”
