by Speer, Flora
“Giles?” Sanal looked at him somewhat doubtfully. “Is that arrangement agreeable to you?”
“Most definitely, my dear.” Lord Giles smiled at her.
“Good.” Roarke nodded. “That’s settled. Come with me, Garit. We have arrangements to make for our journey. I want Walderon kept under secure guard every moment of the way.”
Roarke and Garit clattered down the stairs to the great hall, from where Jenia could hear them issuing orders to squires and men-at-arms.
“I should begin packing,” she said, making to follow the men.
“Stay a moment, if you will, Jenia,” Lord Giles said. “You are Sanal’s only remaining kin except for the son she barely knows, so you ought to hear what I have to say to her. I may need a witness in future,” he added with a smile.
“Sanal and I are related only by marriage,” Jenia reminded him. “The blood tie is through Walderon, I am ashamed to say. He is my late mother’s brother.”
“Sanal trusts you,” Lord Giles said. “Please, Jenia, stay and be my advocate.”
“Very well.” Unable to resist Lord Giles’s warm smile or his twinkling eyes, Jenia sat down again.
“Sanal,” Lord Giles said, “I wonder if you have considered what you will do after the new lord comes to Thury.”
“I haven’t had time to think of anything but my fear of Walderon and my failed attempt to escape him,” she replied.
“You have escaped from him. Now, you must think about your future,” Lord Giles said. “Will you allow me to make an offer?”
“Offer?” Sanal looked bewildered.
“Just listen, my dear. Though the last month has been most interesting in many ways, it has also been exhausting for a man of my age. I retired from warfare some years ago. Now, I keep a dozen squires at Nozay and I spend my days training them to become respectable knights. My offer is this: Nozay needs a lady to oversee domestic affairs and to teach those overactive squires how to behave in the presence of a noblewoman. Will you go with me when I return there, and live at Nozay, and help me to turn out good-hearted, decent men, who might otherwise be mere brutish killing machines, instead of the honest knights I want them to be?”
“Live with you at Nozay?” Sanal said.
She stared at Lord Giles for a long moment and Jenia, watching her, imagined that she saw some cold barrier within her aunt give way to silent joy. When Sanal spoke again, she seemed to have moved on to a different subject entirely.
“I have a son whom I love dearly in spite of who his father is, in spite of the manner in which he was conceived,” Sanal said. “I grieved when Walderon insisted my little boy must leave me, to be fostered with a great noble family. In a way, I have never recovered from that loss. Now you offer me a dozen boys to love and feed, to nurse when they are sick or injured, to comfort when they are homesick, as I am sure they must be from time to time – as I wish I could have comforted my own son when he was homesick. Giles, I have never doubted that you are a kinder man than Walderon. You are the answer to a lonely mother’s fondest dreams. I welcome your offer.”
“I hope it’s not just the lonely mother who sees her dreams about to come true,” Lord Giles said. “I am approaching old age but I, too, have a few dreams left. And, for the most part, I remain healthy and vigorous.”
“My lord, you make me blush.”
Jenia watched in amusement as Sanal’s pale cheeks turned red. Judging from her aunt’s gasp, she suspected that Sanal was experiencing a certain warmth elsewhere in her body. Surely, it was a warmth that cold-hearted Walderon could never have engendered in his unhappy wife.
“Well?” Lord Giles asked, taking Sanal’s hand in both of his. “Will you risk it, my dear lady, and consent to live with me far from court, far from any chance of worldly advancement?”
“I have no worldly ambitions,” Sanal said. “I never did have. I can think of nothing I would like better than to live in peace with a handsome, white-haired nobleman. Yes, I will join you at Nozay.”
“My lady.” Lord Giles bent his silver head to kiss her wrist. “My dearest lady.
“But I should warn you,” he murmured, just before his mouth claimed hers, “that with a dozen teenaged boys about, you are not likely to enjoy much peace.”
“I think I can bear it,” Sanal whispered.
Jenia decided the moment was right for her to slip away discreetly so as not to disturb them. Her mood was buoyant when she encountered Roarke and Garit in the great hall.
“I,” she told them, “have just been witness to a contract made between two loving souls who are old enough not to need parental permission or elaborate arrangements for the transfer of land from one family to another.”
“I’m not surprised,” Roarke said. “Perhaps I can prevail upon King Henryk to restore Sanal’s dowry to her after he confiscates all of Walderon’s lands.”
“I suspect she’d only want to hand it over to her long-lost son,” Jenia replied. “We can be certain he isn’t going to receive any property from his father.”
“If I know Lord Giles,” Garit said, “he will find a way for Lady Sanal’s son to visit Nozay in the near future, perhaps even to finish his knightly training there, if his foster father no longer wants the boy after learning what Walderon has done. If there is any good in the lad at all, Lord Giles will make an honest knight of him.”
“Jenia,” Roarke said later that day when they were finally alone, “before Walderon abducted you, I asked you to marry me. You never answered. Will you say yes? Do you love me as much as I love you? For I do love you, with all my heart and soul. I have little to offer you, but I’ll find a way, if only you love me.”
“Oh, Roarke,” she whispered. “You do love me? I wasn’t sure.”
“I just said so. I want to live with you for the rest of our lives.”
“Then, yes, I will marry you. I could never accept an arranged marriage, as poor Aunt Sanal was forced to do.”
“I love you,” he repeated. “And I intend to tell you so at least once every day.”
“Two or three times would be even better,” she whispered, just before he kissed her.
Chapter 25
The three friends departed from Thury Castle the following day, with Walderon in chains and surrounded by Garit’s men-at-arms, who had pledged not to let him escape.
Garit rode through the gatehouse and over the drawbridge without a single farewell glance for Thury. With his face set in new, harder lines he headed across the meadow on the road that led to Calean City. He passed no one, for the camp set up by Hal and his men-at-arms was gone. One of Garit’s last acts at Thury had been to recommend to Lord Giles that those men, who had all promised to swear fealty to the new lord when he arrived, should be received again into Thury’s defensive force.
Jenia did pause to look back in memory of the childhood happiness and the later fear and sorrow she had known there.
“I never want to see Thury again,” she said to Roarke, who rode beside her. “Not even to visit Chantal’s grave.”
“I am sure she will understand, my love.” Roarke reached out to take her hand and hold it for a long moment. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes. I have one last duty to perform for Chantal. I must testify against Walderon.” With that, she put her back to Thury and her face toward Calean.
The same day they arrived at Calean City, Walderon was given to Lord Mage Serlion, who immediately divested him of the last vestiges of his corrupt Power. Walderon was then handed over to King Henryk. Three days later he was tried for treason, for the murder of a noblewoman who was his ward, and for the attempted murder of a second noble lady, also his ward. Lord Serlion provided evidence his agents had uncovered that the gown Jenia was wearing on the night when she and Chantal were abducted had been found in the possession of a woman whose husband was regularly paid by Walderon’s man, Burke. Next, Jenia, Roarke, Garit, Elwin, Anders, and several men-at-arms who had been in the troop chasing after Walderon all testified to
his crimes. The nobles who sat in judgment voted unanimously to convict him and to confiscate his estates. Walderon was sentenced to suffer a traitor’s death.
“I am appalled,” King Henryk said, speaking formally from his throne with Lord Mage Serlion behind him and Walderon, bound at wrist and ankle, standing before them. “Always, Walderon, you professed complete loyalty to me. Seldom has any noble so betrayed my trust, or my friendship. You know the punishment for a traitor. You will be hanged, drawn, and quartered.”
Walderon glared at the king and Jenia heard a faint hiss emerge from her uncle’s grimly set mouth. But he made no final statement to the king, nor did he deign to glance at his niece. Jenia sent silent thanks to heaven for his cold denial of a blood kinship she wished she could forget.
Walderon was executed the next morning. Garit and Roarke attended the execution. Jenia could not bear to go. Walderon did not ask to see her beforehand, nor did she visit him in his cell. She had nothing more to say to him.
“Jenia, dear, come to my rooms this morning,” Lady Marjorie urged. “We’ll spend our time planning your marriage ceremony and the feast to follow it. Queen Hannorah has asked me to learn what special dishes you want.”
“I find it unseemly to think of a celebration on such a solemn day,” Jenia protested.
“Oh, but you must hear the wonderful ideas I’ve had,” Marjorie insisted. “Just listen to this....”
Jenia let her future mother-in-law prattle on about a gown made of bronze silk all trimmed in gold, and of the great feast that King Henryk had offered to host. In the interest of family reconciliation she did her best to listen and to be grateful for Marjorie’s concern for her, though she contributed little to the plans for her own wedding. All the time she was with Marjorie, her thoughts were on the scaffold where Walderon was meeting his well-deserved end.
Roarke and Garit returned at midday looking grim and white around their mouths. The two of them, along with Jenia, Elwin and Anders, left Calean for a long ride across the fields and then down to the shore.
“The air is cleaner here, away from the city,” Garit said, “but for me, the world is empty now and always will be.”
Three days later Roarke and Jenia were married. With King Henryk and Queen Hannorah standing in for Jenia’s parents, Garit as Roarke’s witness, and Lord Mage Serlion overseeing the service, the contract was read, signed and sealed. To Jenia’s delight, King Henryk immediately confirmed Roarke as the new lord of Gildeley. Lady Marjorie and Lord Oliver were relegated to the crowd of courtiers, for Roarke refused to ask his father to be his principal witness.
“The place at my side rightfully belongs to Garit,” Roarke had said to Jenia earlier, when they discussed the arrangements. “He has always been my true and loyal friend. I suppose in time I will accept my father again, but not just yet. Let it be enough that he is invited to be present.”
Late on the morning after their marriage Jenia and Roarke departed from Calean. Garit accompanied them as far as the road that led toward Jenia’s ancestral home.
“Thanks to you two,” he told them, “I can go on with my life knowing Chantal is at peace. The painful questions are all answered now. As for you, Jenia, your quest is finished at last.”
“You must visit us at Gildeley,” she told him.
“Perhaps.” Garit looked doubtful.
“Definitely!” Jenia said, laughing. “Come in the spring. As I recall, Gildeley is beautiful in springtime. The views will revive your spirits.”
“In that case, I must see it.”
“Promise?” she teased.
“I promise. In fact, my grandmother lives on her dower lands somewhere north of Gildeley, so next spring I will dutifully stop to see her before I visit you.” Garit kissed Jenia on the cheek, the kiss of a dear brother. Then he embraced Roarke and slapped him on the back.
Jenia’s last glimpse of Garit was of a lonely figure on horseback, waving. Then Roarke smiled at her and she pulled her own horse around to ride close to her new husband.
“I cannot wait to see home again, after so many years,” she murmured. “My mother never liked Gildeley, but I always did.”
“Then I will like it, too. Home,” Roarke added, “is where you are. In my most secret heart, you have been my home since the first moment I saw you.”
Garit sat on his horse, gazing after his friends until they were out of sight behind a low hill. When he heard approaching hoofbeats, he was not at all surprised to find Sir Durand stopping beside him.
“I waited until they were gone,” Durand said, “so as not to delay their well-deserved wedding journey. I bring news.”
“Oh?” Garit raised an eyebrow and contemplated Durand’s deceptively bland face.
“I’m happy to report that Domini Gundiac has learned of Walderon’s capture,” Durand said with a sudden grin. “It was a serious blow to his ambitions, though I doubt if he will stop his scheming for long. Still, he has pulled his armies away from the border. And, in case you haven’t heard, this morning King Henryk deployed a strong armed force to Catherstone, to seize the castle from Walderon’s illegitimate son and to guard the bridge and the border there. So, you need have no concern for the immediate safety of Gildeley and its people.”
“Does this mean your work in the Dominion is finished?” Garit asked.
“Indeed,” came the answer. “I’m too well known there to be an effective spy any longer, so King Henryk is sending me elsewhere. Tomorrow I leave for Kantia.”
“Really?” Garit regarded Durand with renewed interest.
“Perhaps we could discuss Kantia and King Audemer’s relations with his contentious nobles,” Durand suggested. “I know a tavern near the river, where we can speak privately.”
“I’ll wager I know the same tavern.” Garit realized he was smiling in anticipation of a new mission for the king of Kantia and also, perhaps, for King Henryk, whom he regarded as a friend. For the first time since Chantal’s disappearance he felt a lightening of his sorrowing heart.
“A good, plain meal is just what I need right now,” he said to Durand. “Lead on to that tavern, my friend. Roarke may be wed and happily settled, but you and I still have work to do.”
About the Author
Flora Speer is the traditionally published author of twenty full-length novels and two novellas. She writes historical, futuristic, and time-travel romances. Born in southern New Jersey, she now lives in Connecticut. Among her favorite activities are doing the research for the next book, which is always great fun, gardening, especially herbs and flowers used in medieval gardens, and amateur astronomy. She firmly believes in space travel and wishes the U.S. would restart its manned space program, which was not only exciting to follow, but often provided great ideas for her futuristic romances.
“The Secret Heart” is the first in a series of fantasy romances set in an alternate medieval world where a form of magic known as the Power is accepted – and is sometimes sadly corrupted.
Connect with the author:
Web site: www.floraspeer.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Other books by Flora Speer, all available at Smashwords:
HISTORICAL ROMANCES;
By Honor Bound
Much Ado About Love
The Viking Passion
For Love And Honor
Rose Red
Castle of Dreams
Castle of the Heart
Two Turtledoves (Christmas novella)
TIME-TRAVEL:
Twelfth Night (Christmas novella)
Christmas Carol
A Time To Love Again
A Love Beyond Time
Timestruck
Love Just in Time
Love Once and Forever (also paranormal)
PARANORMAL – medieval magic
Heart’s Magic
The Magician’s Lover
A Passionate Magic
Love Once and Forever (also time-travel)
FUTURISTIC ROMANCES:<
br />
Venus Rising
Destiny’s Lovers
No Other Love
Lady Lure
Original E-Books
Lord Royce’s Knights series:
So Great a Love
Cast Love Aside
True Love
Where Love Has Gone
Love Everlasting
Love Above All
And a Romantic Fantasy series:
The Secret Heart
The Fire of the Soul
The Anvil of the Mind (available in fall, 2015)
Coming in 2016:
All The Fine Realms, a historical
saga set in the days of Charlemagne
