by Ashley York
Peter moved to sit along the side of the bed, pushing the curtain aside. The touch of the cold air against her skin felt like a bad omen. She wrapped the coverings around her. He stood to secure his hose. His tunic was next. She watched until all of his body was covered, hoping to etch him so strongly into her mind that even while he was gone, it might feel as if he were with her still.
“I must meet with John. Did you remember anything else about Ivan and his men? Or your uncle’s encounter with Leofrid?”
She shrugged. “I believe I have told you all that I remember. I am sorry there is not more.”
“It is enough.” He smiled. “I’ve given orders that you are to use this room as your ow—”
“Peter, I cannot. I am no one of importance. How could I dare?”
His gaze was steady. “Hear me. I am of great importance to the King. And the wife of one of the King’s most treasured knights will be protected. Do you understand? I have yet to find out what Ivan and your uncle are about. I will have you safely within this Priory. This room you will make as your own in my absence. Odo knows me. He would not begrudge you being here. Trust me in this.”
A huge rock had been deposited in the pit of her stomach with his declaration. She would prefer to have been near Ruth and the baby or even Martha at night.
“Yes. I will use this room as my own.” He opened his arms and she kneeled on the bed beside him. She leaned against his chest.
“Mmm, I will miss how this feels. Our time has been too short.”
She nodded against him. When he pulled back, he gently grasped her chin to tip her head back to receive his passionate kiss. His arms wrapped rigidly around her as if to stay his hands from caressing her.
When he loosened his hold to step back, Brighit moved to follow him to the door. He held up his hand.
“Please. Let me leave you here. This is where I want you. And when I return, this is where I want to find you.”
Peter backed away three steps before turning to the door, closing it behind him without a glance back.
Brighit lay on the bed and stared at the canopy over her head for a long time. There were no movements outside her door. No one came to knock or check on her. Eventually she turned onto her side. Sleep was long in coming despite the tiredness that filled her. When it did, she had dreams of dark voids and haunting voices that seemed to reassure her she would never see her husband alive again.
Peter’s gray destrier strained against the tight hold of his reins. He couldn’t blame the animal. He, too, wanted to break free and close the distance to the castle at York rather than plodding along at this snail’s pace.
“Peter.” John’s voice sliced through his irritation. “We have time. There is no hurry.”
Three days into their ride north and Peter would wholeheartedly disagree with that assessment. He wished to be done with this matter. He wished to return to his wife. The wife he dreamed about even in the light of day.
“My lord, my belief is that if we get there ahead of the trebuchets, perhaps we can persuade the inhabitants to forego the inevitable loss of life that will result from the siege.” He turned back to John. “Does that not sound a plausible plan?”
John looked away. Peter could see he was holding his temper.
“Would it not be more amicable to have men show up on horseback than an entire army at your gate?”
Incredulity was etched in the sharp lines of John’s face when he finally turned back toward him. “Peter. It’s called a show of force. That’s how this is done, as well you know. Are you in such a hurry to return to Brighit that you can no longer even think like a solider?”
Peter reined in his horse that snorted loudly. Propping his bent knee across his saddle he faced his friend. “My concern is what the men were doing as they traveled with Brighit. I believe she was their cover. She said they spoke to everyone. Some were responsive while others were not. They were looking for Godwinson supporters.”
John crossed his arms. “So how would you have us proceed?”
“Mort is with your soldiers. He knows what he is about. The siege will not wait for either of us. By the slim chance that the gates are opened to him, I’m certain he would send word to us. Could we travel back along the Great North road to measure just how much support there is for Godwinson? Tostig was very powerful in this area.”
“As I am well aware. But the King has orders that I must obey. He knows little of how close I have come—several times—to complete disregard for those orders. I prefer to keep it that way.”
Peter knew he spoke not only of allowing Leofrid to live but of John’s leaving his bride untouched after he was forced to wed the Saxon. That he later found her much to his liking and was more than willing to see to his husbandly duties rectified the situation but he had defied the King nonetheless. A treasonous act.
“Then let us see this done!”
“Ralph de Gael traveled from London to York, raising the hackles of every earl William slighted in his play for absolute control.” John’s face softened. “I admit I am most concerned for sweet Emma. She is caught in the middle. To know she suffered within the castle would pain me greatly.”
“You have always had a soft spot for William FitzOsbern’s only daughter.”
“True but my feelings for her never ran so deep as my feelings for Rowena. What I thought was love was not. And you said Leofrid was still in Ireland?”
“That he was about a month ago is all I can say.”
John nodded. “Then we will proceed with the siege and pray it will end without too much bloodshed. Then I will assess whether I must confess to the King that Leofrid still lives.”
“I would prefer you not have to do that, John.”
“As would I.” John’s face was tight with concern. “Once we have the castle, we will deal with this. If we can ascertain for certain that Leofrid remains in Ireland, we will deal with the threat he may become to the King.”
“And I pray it will not be too late,” Peter said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next few months dragged by for Brighit with her constant worrying about Peter and John’s condition outside the castle at York. Her own condition became more and more apparent. Her menses had stopped completely. She was with child.
Martha, as the newly appointed Prioress, received word from the King. He considered himself a godly man and expected much from his Priory at the River Aire, such as getting word to his soldiers. Reinforcements and supplies would be late in arriving due to the heavy snows so they would need to make other arrangement. The King had decided to wait until the spring to travel north.
“I’ve no one to send,” Martha said.
“Doesn’t the Priory have knights they can dispense?” Tadhg asked right before biting into a biscuit dripping with honey.
She put her hand on her hip, a very annoyed look on her face. “Tadhg, I know about Saint John and Saint Peter, not about warfare. I know there are knights... somewhere... but the previous Prioress really depended on the Bishop to send notices and dispatch them.”
He took a deep swallow of mead. “Well, the King’s not asking for them to be dispatched. He’s requesting a message be sent. I can do that.”
“Oh, Tadhg, are you sure you should?” Brighit had no appetite and watching her brother shovel in food as if he may never eat again made her queasy.
He turned to her, a smile playing over his lips. “And you would not be appreciative of some word on Peter’s conditions?”
Heat suffused her face. “Of course, I would like to know how he fares but not if it puts you in harm’s way.”
Tadhg rolled his eyes. “Can you ever be less of a woman?”
Brighit pulled back. “Whatever do you mean? I am a woman.”
“I know that. I mean can’t you ever just realize I’m a warrior and being near fighting does not put me in harm’s way. I can fend for myself in all situations.”
She snorted. “I see.”
Her brother ha
d remained very tight lipped about the goings on at home and she wondered for the hundredth time if there was something he wasn’t telling her. He was not usually so defensive.
“Martha, I can bring the message for you. It may be best to let the others head back to Ireland without me.”
Brighit was suddenly swamped with sadness at the idea of losing her connection to Ireland. They had all been very attentive, making it their mission to keep her entertained.
Tadhg, as always, saw her true feelings no matter how she tried to hide them. “I’m sorry, dear sister. We have all stayed longer than we intended. Say your goodbyes. They’ll be leaving forthwith.”
Within an hour’s time, they’d all assembled in the bailey. Each man hugged Brighit in turn and went to his horse. Sean was the only one remaining.
“Head down the hill. I’ll be there anon,” Sean gave the order to the other men. He’d be in command until Tadhg’s return.
He pierced Tadhg with his can-you-please-give-us-a-moment-alone look. Tadhg rolled his eyes. Brighit pretended not to notice the exchange but she was aware that her brother did not wander far.
Sean took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. “My dear, Brighit.” He smiled, tipping his head to one side. “I have long desired to take you as my wife.”
“Please! We are too close. Like brother and sister. It would never have worked.”
“I kept my distance out of respect for my best friend—your brother.”
Tadhg shifted behind them. Brighit knew he heard every word. He was protecting her in Peter’s absence even from this man that they’d both known their entire lives.
“He made me promise to never take advantage of your innocence. I fear I took his advice too much to heart in never expressing my feelings for you.”
She glanced down, afraid Sean would realize that Tadhg was only doing her bidding. She had never thought of him in a romantic way.
“I hope you will remember me as I will never forget you,” he said.
When he closed in on her, she offered her cheek to him. He kissed it lightly.
She attempted to give him a sage expression along with her next words. “There is a wonderful woman out there intended for you alone, dear Sean. Open your heart so that love may find you.”
He tipped his head, released her hand and mounted his horse. Gripping the reins in one hand, he turned back to Tadhg who stepped up beside his sister.
“Protect her well so that Peter may return to a healthy babe.”
Brighit’s jaw dropped. Sean winked and urged his horse to a trot.
“How did he—”
Tadhg kissed her on the other cheek. “Men can tell these things, Brig.”
She turned to him. “You know as well?”
“Of course.”
Brighit grabbed his arm in a tight hold, her face close to his. “Do. Not. Tell. Peter.”
Tadhg’s eyes rounded. “Why would I tell him? It is not my place.”
She relaxed her grip. “I’m happy to hear you say that.”
The nuns put together supplies and Tadhg went off. Brighit believed her brother would be safe. She wanted word of her husband.
The land surrounding the motte and bailey structure no longer resembled a field that had ever grown anything. The small amount of tall grass that had begun to grow these many years after the harrowing could not withstand the trampling of soldiers. The thick mud sucked at the hooves of the horses and the boots of the men. Blackened earth mixed with horse excrement and refuse, reeked throughout their camp. The thudding of the trebuchet as it launched sundry items into and over the castle walls was deafening. Hell on earth.
John and Peter sat upwind of the horses and tried to block out their surroundings.
“You talked in your sleep again, Peter. Do I need to give you more work to keep your thoughts from her? We could always use another pit dug.”
“My thoughts are always on her. I wake from my dreams raging with need.” Peter glanced at his friend. “My apologies for keeping you awake.”
“I’ve never known you to allow a woman to so trouble your dreams.”
“Brighit is unlike any woman I have ever met.”
John took a sip from the near empty skin. “My impression is that they are not all happy dreams. I hear your distress.”
Peter bit into the apple Tadhg had just brought for the troops. The nuns constant supply of fresh food was probably the only thing keeping them from all becoming sick.
“Do not allow her brother to her you.” He glanced around until he spotted the man helping to organize the supplies he’d brought. “I am very pleased to be wed to her but I fear I did not handle it well.”
“You ask her to marry you. She says yes. You are wed. It is done.”
Peter couldn’t hold John’s gaze. “I fear I did not confess all to you.”
“Did you force her to marry you against her wishes? I’d say you have verily turned her wishes then. She is enamored with you.”
Peter shook his head, finding it difficult to voice his concerns. She ‘d said she loved him. But he was not sure he had ever said it back.
“Tadhg found us... in a compromising situation.”
John pulled back, surprise written across his face. “I wouldn’t expect that from you.”
“It is not as you assume. We became... impassioned and I would have lain with her as was her wont but for the condition of our surroundings. She was a virgin and I did not believe it appropriate—”
“So there was no compromising situation?”
“We were abed when he entered. He made accusations...”
John waited. Peter looked back then shrugged.
“You didn’t defend or explain?”
“Why? I realized I was in love with her. She was bound for the Priory. She would never have agreed to marry me. She was a woman with a mission more determined than most men. This way... she had to marry me because her brother said so.”
John leaned back and laughed. And laughed. Just when he started to settle down, he looked at Peter and started all over again.
Peter decided he would count to five and if John could not stop finding humor in a situation that was quite disconcerting to him, he would leave. Five. Four. Three—
“Enough, John!” He glanced toward Tadhg who was looking over at them. “I do not need to air this in front of Tadhg again.”
“He knows?”
“Of course. He’s a smart man. He saw right through my ruse.” John chuckled some more.
“I’m in love with her. I don’t wish to lose her.”
John sobered at his sincere words. “We will offer terms again. See if we can move this along. Get you back to your wife.” John then turned his attention to another man. “Philip!”
The tall man Tadhg was speaking to turned toward John. Tadhg followed him over.
“We’re going to see if we can end this. They must be suffering within. I don’t know why they can be so pig-headed. Emma is surely not so obstinate.”
Philip and Peter exchanged glances. John was remembering the girl he grew up with. Not the stubborn woman she turned into. Her father would have all but ignored her if she hadn’t made an issue on every little thing. It was the only time she was ever given any attention by William FitzOsbern.
“Surely it is her husband who is pig-headed,” Philip offered, trying to be amicable. He knew the truth about Emma, too.
John stood and brushed the dried mud from his mail. “Damn mud. I’ll be glad to get out of here and get a bath.”
Philip raised his hand to halt the assault of the trebuchet just as it was about to launch the carcass of the cow they’d recently devoured over the castle walls. The cow had come from the farm that should have been replenishing the supplies for the occupants inside the castle. The soldiers signaled their understanding, disarming the large machine.
Philip stood beside Peter and the two followed John, fully covered in mail, as they crossed the field to approach the guard who stood high in t
he tower beside the front gate.
“Hail,” John’s voice held a commanding tone.
The man barely stirred. “Yes?”
“We wish to speak to the Earl.”
The soldier leaned forward slightly. “Are you leaving?”
John laughed and looked around him, his arms extended. “Why would we need to leave? We have everything we need. We have your supplies at our disposal. The Earl!”
The man could be heard yelling down to the other soldiers as the message was relayed across the bailey and within the castle. John turned away, his hands on his hips. “I’m ready to see this end. Let us hope the Earl and his lady feel the same.”
A short time later, another message could be heard making its way back to the guard. Lady Emma was coming.
“John! What are you about? King William robs my husband of power and command, puts sheriffs in places of honor, collecting taxes that are rightfully my husband’s and he expects we should just open the gate at his orders?”
John looked up at the tower guard who effectively blocked any arrow that may be aimed at the lady. “That is how it is done, Lady Emma.”
She pulled at the guard, moving him out of the way so that she could lean over the wall. “John, I must have your reassurance that my men will be allowed to be freed with no repercussion.”
“Your men?”
Emma’s loud sigh could be heard even from that distance. “Yes! They are my men. My husband is not within. He snuck out as soon as he heard of your approach.”
“The scoundrel left you here to defend the castle alone?”
She shrugged.
“Why did you not just open the gates?”
“Because, John! King William is... is... a tyrant and well you know.”
John refused to respond. Emma waited. They stared at each other. She put her hand to her hip. Not a hair moved on John’s head. Emma refused to back down from the statement that may be acceptable in the privacy of a chamber but not here in front of the soldiers that swore allegiance to the man she maligned.
“Lady Emma, will you open the gates to us?” John spoke in a strong voice. Not a trace of emotion or consideration. A commander in complete control.
