Finding Peace - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 2)

by Lisa Shea

  She took another draw on the ale. “You would only have gotten yourself killed, if you had tried to get between him and me,” she soothed him. “He had a strong belief that his children were his pawns, to be used and abused however he wished.”

  Richard’s voice was low. “What do you intend to do?”

  She twined her fingers into his own, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. “I certainly will never marry Corwin,” she promised him. “By the look of things, I do not know how much longer my father will last. I will try to make his few remaining days ones of peace, if I can.” Her eyes went doubtfully to Father Godfrey’s. “I do still hold out some tiny hope that, when he sees the end is near, he will repent and show even a small fondness for me.”

  Father Godfrey smiled comfortingly at her. “It has been known to happen, child,” he reassured her. “It is why I sent the message to you. If there is any hope of him gentling, now would be the time.” His eyes were warm on her. “You are a good daughter, to give him this one last chance at redemption.”

  Elizabeth shook her head doubtfully. “I am a fool,” she answered, giving a long sigh.

  Finally she looked around at the darkening hall. “Well, then, I suppose we should get to bed.” She glanced at Father Godfrey. “Where will they be putting Richard?”

  He looked down at the table for a moment. “In the barracks, with the other men,” he admitted. “Your father claimed that no other room could be cleaned on such short notice.”

  Elizabeth’s face flared with anger. “Of course he claimed that,” she shot out.

  “I will be fine,” calmed Richard, his eyes on hers. “It matters not where I sleep. As long as we keep you safe, that is what is important.”

  Elizabeth nodded, but her heart fell. He had been close to her every night, had been just within reach. To think of him further away drained the warmth from her body.

  He made an attempt at a smile. “Come now, show me where your room is,” he offered. “I will see you there safely, and then I will get along to my own bed.”

  Father Godfrey got up with them. “I will see you both tomorrow morning,” he offered. “Stay safe until then.”

  Elizabeth moved to the side of the hall, heading up the narrow spiral stairs to the upper floor, and to her surprise a sense of nervousness began tripping at her heart. Few people had seen her bedroom, had crossed its threshold. For some reason the idea of Richard being there with her caused flutterings in her stomach.

  She glanced down to the end of the hall, to where the large, ornately carved door stood slightly ajar. Corwin and the doctor were apparently settling her father into bed. She turned and pressed her own door open to the tiny bedroom she had slept in since a small child.

  The room was shrouded in darkness, with a lone candle flickering on the table by her bed and the barest of embers glowing at the hearth. The shutters were closed tight against the coming winter’s chill. Dingy grey covers lay over her bed, and a trunk to one side held her few possessions. A wardrobe by the window contained her dresses. The stone walls were bare of decoration, and the floor, while swept, was badly in need of polish.

  “Home sweet home,” she offered wryly, waving a hand at it. “This is what I have.”

  His eyes swept the room and came back to hold hers. “It has a sturdy bar on the door?”

  Her mouth quirked up into a grin. “That it does,” she agreed.

  He nodded. “Then it has everything it needs.”

  She took a step toward him, suddenly caught by the realization that he was going to leave her, abandon her for the night. “It does not have you,” she whispered.

  He took a half step forward, then there was a movement in the hallway. Corwin and Doctor Tyrian were there alongside him, their faces moving between the two.

  Corwin’s voice was tight. “Just saying good night to my wife, were we?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flared, but she kept her voice even. “I am not even your fiancée,” she corrected. “I am nothing to you.”

  His eyes blazed with heat. “That is far from true,” he countered. “But we will discuss that tomorrow, when you are more yourself. Once you settle back into your old routine, you will remember your duties to your father.” His eyes swept past hers to hold Richard’s. “Come now, dear brother. Let us get you into your own bed, where you belong.”

  Richard’s eyes moved to hold Elizabeth’s, then glanced for a moment at the door. She nodded. He stepped back into the hallway, and in a moment she had closed the door on the trio, sliding the bar firmly in place. She waited as their footsteps faded down the hallway, disappearing into the customary creaks and groans of the keep at night.

  Despair began to roll in at her as the all too familiar surroundings crawled into her spirit, infiltrated her soul. How many nights had she sobbed in here, alone, without a means of escape? How many mornings had she pleaded for some way to get away from the pain and suffering? And now she had returned, was back in the clutches of the two who had hurt her the most.

  She drew in a deep breath, focusing her thoughts. Richard was here. With Richard by her side, she knew they could get through anything. Her father was frail; he only had a handful of days left. No matter what happened after that, he could no longer hurt her.

  She turned to look around her small cell, at the lack of decoration, at the grimy bed with its cracked wooden headboard. There would be no knocking on the wall tonight, no reassuring touch keeping her company. He was far from reach, not even a token there to remind her of …

  Her hand dropped to her hip before she was aware of the action, and she moved forward to her bed, to kneel on it, facing her headboard. She had control over her own life. This was her room, and she was going to start taking charge of it also, as she was learning to do with so many things.

  She imagined the headboard as a piece of leather, and began cutting the lines with her dagger, laying out the pattern. First there were the five star petals, creating the outer frame. Then the inner petals, more square in shape, offset. Then finally the center piece that held the flower together.

  She sat back, admiring her handiwork. Her years of leatherworking had paid off – the columbine was perfect, carved into her headboard. As she pressed her hand against it, her heart warmed. Some part of Richard was here with her. She would be all right.

  Contented, she laid her sword and dagger by her bed. She pulled off her dress to lay it on the trunk, then climbed beneath the heavy covers. In a moment she was drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 21

  A gentle rapping at her door roused her from a sound sleep. She blinked wearily, turning over. Faint streams of sunlight came through her closed shutters; it was nearly mid-morning.

  She cursed, a tremor of fear running through her as she rolled to a sitting position. Her father would be furious that she had missed the first half of morning practice. He would beat her mercilessly; he would …

  She froze, suddenly realizing that she was beyond his control now. She was no longer a child who would be abused and punished for slight infractions. She was an adult; she had come back on her own terms, and the man was near death.

  It was almost too much to take in. The specter of danger that had hung over her for so many years was fading into the past. She could choose a new course now; she could redirect her path into one that brought her joy and peace.

  The knocking came again, and her heart leapt. Was this Richard coming to bring her down to breakfast? She ran to the door with light feet, leaning against the crack. “Who is it?” she called out.

  Doctor Tyrian’s voice came gently through. “It is me, child. I heard you had injuries, and I thought I might look at them before you started your day.”

  Elizabeth slid aside the bolt, opening the door to the doctor. “No worse than you have seen countless other times,” she assured him, stepping back into the room. “You have probably set and re-set my limbs enough to know them as well as your own.”

  He nodded. “Probably true, and yet
it is always wise to watch for infection,” he warned. He turned and closed the door behind him, sliding the bar back into place. Then he moved next to the bed, setting his bag down beside him. “Come on, lass. You know the drill.”

  She climbed back into bed, dutifully pulling her chemise up to her upper thigh to show him the leg injury. Doctor Tyrian had been the one who birthed her, and he had helped her through more injuries than she could count. She was long past modesty with the man.

  He unwrapped the bandages carefully, then knelt at her side to carefully probe at the long gash. “Did you tend to this yourself?” he asked as he worked. “This is healing quite nicely.”

  She shook her head. “Richard helped me with the wounds,” she informed him. “He has some skill in that area.”

  “Apparently so,” he agreed. “And you were quite lucky. Just a little more distance in either direction and you might not be sitting here today.”

  “No thanks to Corwin,” she growled, remembering how he had used his sword on her horse, had driven her into the raging river.

  The doctor’s mouth quirked up slightly. “In Corwin’s version of the story, it is Richard who caused you to have the injury.”

  “Richard?” cried Elizabeth in disbelief, half rising.

  He patted her on the shoulder, chuckling. “Most here know better than to believe that man,” he soothed her. His eyes shadowed slightly. “Your father, though, still seems to feel he has some good qualities.”

  “My father believes many things,” growled Elizabeth.

  “He is still Lord of this keep,” mused the Doctor in a cautionary tone.

  He gave himself a small shake, rummaging through his bag. “Here, drink this,” he instructed her. “It will help to ease some of the aches you will feel as your thigh heals.”

  Elizabeth nodded dutifully, drinking down the liquid in a long draw. It was syrupy, with a heavy herbal flavor to it.

  The doctor’s eyes were moving to her arm. “And it is your right arm as well, I believe? Thank goodness it was not your left.”

  “I know,” agreed Elizabeth, sitting back against the headboard and offering her arm. “I suppose it was a time where being left handed ended up being a good thing.”

  Her arm began to feel heavy, and she lowered it to lay against her chest. Doctor Tyrian’s eyes flicked up to hers, then he began unwrapping the bandages slowly, taking his time.

  “You know,” murmured Elizabeth, a lassitude coming over her, “They thought that I killed the twins’ mother solely because I was a left handed swordswoman. Apparently the entire region was out hunting for her.” She gave a low laugh, closing her eyes. “Two left handed swordswomen in that one area of the world. What are the chances of that?”

  “What indeed?” asked the Doctor’s voice, and he seemed remote, drifting away, and then she was high in the mountains, surrounded by clouds, and the world ceased to exist.

  *

  There was a quick rapping at the door, and she wanted to make it stop, but her lids were just too heavy to open up. She tried to press herself up to sitting, but her arms were leaden, and her legs were splayed open in an unnatural way.

  “Go away,” she muttered, shaking her head wearily.

  “There you are,” sighed the Doctor with relief. She pried her eyes open and saw him glance at the door, then move to bring the covers back up over her, propping her up a bit more in bed. That done, he hurried to the door, sliding the bar back and opening it.

  Corwin stepped into the gap, his gaze moving between the Doctor and Elizabeth, his brow furrowing when he saw she was awake. “I told you to let me in sooner,” he snapped at the physician.

  The Doctor looked down for a moment. “These things are tricky,” he murmured. “She has a strong constitution; she awoke before I would have expected.”

  Corwin let out a low growl, then shook his head, dismissing it. “What is done is done,” he snapped. “So, is she still pure?”

  The fog burned from Elizabeth’s mind in an instant, and she drew herself fully up to a seated position, drawing her knees up against her, staring at Corwin and the Doctor in shocked realization.

  “You had him check my virginity?” she cried out in shock.

  The doctor’s face flushed. “It was your father’s order, my dear, and a natural precaution to take before any marriage. He only thought, with the situations you have been in recently, that -”

  “Situations?” yelled Elizabeth, fury turning her vision red. “Situations like Corwin nearly causing my death, nearly causing me to be both drowned in a raging river and ripped open by a gouging tree?”

  There was the sound of running feet, and then Richard was striding into the room, glancing around in a quick scan. His shoulders eased when he found Elizabeth huddled in bed, then his eyes sharpened as they took in her fury.

  “What is it?” he asked in a tense voice.

  “Get them out,” she ordered. “Get them both out!”

  Corwin’s voice was harsh. “I am your Lord and Master,” he snapped. “You will submit to me.”

  Richard turned on him, his eyes flashing. “You are neither,” he growled, “and you will obey the lady in her own house.” He gave Corwin a shove, and the Doctor scurried out after him. In a moment Richard had closed the door and slid the bar firmly into place.

  He was kneeling by her side, and she folded against him, the tears streaming down her face.

  “I am here now,” he murmured in her ear. “They had me off on a wild goose chase, but I realized quickly what they were up to and came back to make sure you were all right. I shall not fall for that again.” He pulled back slightly. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

  She shook her head no, still hunched up. “The Doctor was alone with me, checking my injuries,” she explained hesitantly. “But then he drugged me, and while I was unconscious he …” she found she could barely say it. “He checked that I was still intact.”

  His hand stilled in its soothing motion, and it was a long moment before he could speak. “While you were drugged? Without your permission?”

  She nodded mutely. After a minute she took in a breath, looking away. “I know he is a doctor; I know he has tended to every wound my body could bear. But somehow the thought of what he did upsets me to my core.”

  He drew her in again, and his voice was iron. “As it should,” he stated coldly. “He drugged you because he knew, if you were awake, that you would never consent to his actions. He did it completely against your will.”

  He lifted her face to his, and his gaze softened. “You did an honorable thing by coming back here, to give your father one last chance. You have done your duty. Whenever you are ready to leave, we can go. Even if it is to stay with Thomas, to be nearby but not under his control, that may be the better option.”

  She nodded slowly, her world slowly settling back into place. “Maybe you are right,” she agreed. “If my father was willing to resort to this, who knows what else he might try.” She thought back to the scene of her awaking, how Corwin had seemed to want to gain access to her unconscious and unprotected body. “And Corwin …”

  Richard’s eyes sharpened. “What did Corwin do?” he shot out, his shoulders tensing.

  She smiled slightly, leaning up to press her lips tenderly against him. “Corwin did nothing,” she reassured him. She knew if she said more that he would challenge his brother, would hinder their ability to simply leave and put the past behind them.

  “Come, let us go down, make our farewells, and get clear of their influence.”

  He helped her to stand, and she moved to her wardrobe, sorting through her dresses. Richard turned around while she removed her old chemise and drew on a fresh one, then adding a violet dress over it. She smoothed it down in place, smiling at the color. It matched the fields of columbine which sprung up around the keep each spring.

  Richard’s voice was a startled whisper behind her. “What is this?”

  She turned and saw he was staring at the columbin
e carving she had made in her head board. She moved to stand next to him, smiling. “I was lonely,” she explained.

  He stared at it for a long moment, then turned and drew her into a tender hug. “I missed you too,” he murmured against her hair.

  There was a rapping at the door, and both heads swiveled as one to stare at it. Richard strode over to stand beside the door. “Who is it?” he called out.

  An elderly voice rasped through the crack. “It is Father Godfrey,” he informed the pair.

  Richard looked back at Elizabeth, and she nodded. He pulled the bar clear, drawing the door open.

  The elderly priest took a few steps into the room. “My child, I heard what happened. You are all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, coming to stand alongside Richard. “We will be going to stay with Thomas for a while,” she continued. “I know you wanted me to be here, but -”

  He was nodding before she finished. “I understand. It was but a vain hope of mine. I still remember your father as the sweet child he once was.”

  Elizabeth took one last glance around the room, then headed out, with Father Godfrey and Richard following close behind. They made their way down the main staircase and into the great hall. The tables were half filled with guards and staff, with servants moving to and fro serving the morning meal.

  Her father’s voice cut across the murmuring voices. “There she is at last, the lazy wench. A few years ago I would have beaten her for her weakness and taught her a lesson.”

  Elizabeth strode up to stand before the table, her eyes cold. “Yes, you would have,” she answered. “And now you will not. Richard and I are taking our leave.”

  Corwin’s gaze went between the two in shock. “You cannot leave,” he snapped. “Your father is deathly ill.”

  “So he is,” she agreed. “And I have come to see him. Based on his recent actions, he apparently has no interest in family reconciliation. There is no more to say.”