Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  Shouts rang from far behind her, and she knew she did not have long.

  Lucia dug into her bag and pulled out Stephen’s ring. At least if someone found that, they would know she had been here. She pushed hard to regain her feet, then hung the ring on a small branch where it caught the light.

  Then, taking one last look below her to find a spot that seemed clear of rocks, she jumped.

  The impact of the water burst her breath from her lungs, and she frantically clawed her way toward the shimmering surface, high above her. Finally she breached to air and drew in a long, desperate breath. The river spun and twisted around her, and it was several seconds before she could gain her bearings. She strove to move further from the bank, to lessen the risk of hitting a rock or log.

  Shouts became lost in the distance behind her. The bright moon lit her path. She concentrated on staying in the center of the rolling waters.

  * * *

  Stephen held his sword steadily at Evan’s throat, Marcus and Shawn holding the man on either side. His voice was a low growl. “Where is she?”

  A Gray ran into the room, his face tight with panic. His eyes swept, not to Evan, but to Stephen. “She’s jumped into the river, trying to escape! I couldn’t get to her in time!” His eyes flashed to Evan, and hot fury lit his eyes. “That monster betrayed us all. And then he threw Lucia into the table!”

  Stephen turned back to Evan in a rage. “You bastard! I swear, if she or her child is injured -”

  Evan’s eyes widened, awareness flooding his face.

  “You are her man?”

  Evan snarled in fury, snatched the dagger from his hip, and dove toward Stephen’s sword-arm. Stephen twisted to avoid the blow, and pressed his own sword forward.

  Evan took the sword through his chest and fell back in shock. His body collapsed against the wall. He shook once, then was still.

  The Gray barely spared a glance for his fallen leader. “Follow me!”

  Stephen pulled his sword free and raced at his side toward the woods. His heart pounded in his chest with every foot-fall.

  She could not be hurt. Not when he was so close.

  A dark chasm loomed ahead, and he skidded to a stop. There was a glint of metal to the right, and he blinked in surprise. He knew that shape, knew every curve and facet. He grabbed the ring, slipped it on his finger, then turned back to the water.

  He scanned the banks, hoping against hope that she was already to safety. Not seeing her on shore, he did not hesitate one moment more – he jumped from the rocks feet-first, plunging into the inky black water.

  Stephen surfaced with a kick and immediately set off downstream with steady, sure strokes. He could barely see amongst the shadows and frothy mist.

  What if she had slipped under already?

  He shook his head in resolution. Not Lucia. She was hanging on somewhere. She was waiting for him – he could not fail her now. He lengthened his strokes, straining to look amongst the glistening rocks and twisting branches for a glimpse of her.

  Long moments passed, and Stephen’s heart pounded in desperation, his eyes scanning every inch of both banks as he went. The Gray had said the incident had only just happened. She could not have gotten far.

  What if she had gone under?

  He pushed the thought away with an angry shake. Lucia was a strong swimmer. She was in good health. She was a fighter. She was out there. He just had to find her.

  His breath caught for a moment. There – downstream! He could make out a tree caught up in some rocks, with Lucia hanging on one end. His arms renewed their strokes, with every last ounce of strength propelling him forward.

  * * *

  A wet, misty, chaotic world surrounded Lucia. Her only thoughts involved her struggle to stay above the tugging water. She realized that her arm was bleeding. She wasn’t sure if the injury came from her fight with Evan or as a result of her swimming. She tried to keep the arm out of the water, to lessen the loss of blood. Lucia clung to the fallen tree with all her might. The rough bark felt reassuring beneath her clammy hands.

  She glanced around slowly - the spray from the rushing water reduced her vision to a hazy gray. Large branches prevented her from moving to shore, and she was afraid to let go, in case other branches would trap her beneath the tree. She hoped that by resting she would gain the strength to climb up out of the water and onto the ancient log.

  A calm washed over her as she hung there, the minutes flowing by in smooth succession. Strangely, she wasn’t cold any more. The ridges where she clung no longer hurt her fingers. The world faded, and her eyes seemed leaden. She flinched as another wave crashed noisily over her head. By comparison, the water beneath her seemed quiet, inviting.

  She felt her hands slip, and involuntarily tightened them. She couldn’t let go of the log - it was her only hope of staying above it all. But did she wish to remain afloat? The water and flotsam jumbled dangerously around her.

  Her log shuddered as something heavy struck it, and her grip shifted yet again. Her cry and the other noises of the stream mingled into a single, wordless wail. Her fingers were slipping. Her world spun around her. Something tugged at her, and her focus shimmered away.

  The gray waters faded to black.

  Chapter 28

  Lucia drifted into consciousness, her body a mass of sore muscles and throbbing aches. She stretched beneath the heavy, pungent-smelling blankets that covered her. Thoughts trickled slowly into focus.

  Her baby.

  Panic infused her. She moved a hand down to feel her belly. It was rounded as she had remembered it. Her arm was wrapped in a bandage, and she felt another bandage around her leg.

  Lucia remembered the tug of the river, of her final yielding to its chill. She had obviously been pulled from the water ... but by whom? Where was she now? In another hideout of the Grays?

  The room smelled musty but familiar. It seemed to be dimly lit. She opened her eyes cautiously, keeping her breathing even in case she was being guarded. The light from a single oil lamp on a table next to the bed illuminated the room, but kept most of it in shadows.

  Her eyes swept the room, all other thought fleeing as relief swept over her, embracing her.

  She was home.

  Lucia closed her eyes again, tears welling within them. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this place, missed the friends and family it also held. She wanted to find Michael, to learn what had happened these past few months. To ask ...

  She took a deep breath. She needed to know about Stephen, to learn the truth, whatever it might be. Lucia wiped her eyes on her blanket and took another deep breath. She did not want to wait a minute more to find out what was going on. She had to know now.

  She reached to pull her covers off, then stifled a cry of pain. Her muscles were more sore than she could have thought possible. How long had she been lying here?

  A well-worn chair sat next to her bed, with remnants of bread on a wooden platter. Someone had been keeping a vigil. A wooden recorder lay beside it, next to her journal. She smiled weakly - someone had found the scroll, after all. She remembered, as in a dream, the voices and songs in the darkness. She remembered straining toward them as the darkness tried to envelop her.

  A noise outside her closed door made her turn. A young girl’s voice - Ellie’s, she thought with quiet pleasure - was talking to someone. “I know she has been unconscious for two weeks, but I would like to watch her, just in case...”

  A muffled murmur answered her. Was that James? Ellie replied hesitantly, “All right ... but only for a little while. I would like to see the ceremony too.” Two pairs of footsteps moved down the corridor and faded into silence.

  Ceremony?

  Was Michael being made Lord? Was ... she hesitated for a moment, then forced herself to think about it. Was Stephen marrying Anna? She wanted to know the truth, whatever it was. Misperceptions had caused enough problems in her past. She would rather face the reality, and go forward with her life. Her child was depe
nding on her.

  With determination, gritting her teeth against the pain, she sat up and pushed the covers off. In addition to the two bandaged areas, she saw she had bruises peppering her body. Her entire body ached. She was dressed in a long shirt and loose pants - her old sleepwear.

  She crawled to the end of the bed and, leaning over, opened the wooden trunk at its foot. Her clothes were neatly folded within it. She pulled out a cobalt-blue dress from her time with Stephen. She glanced briefly at the blue uniform beneath it - and shook her head. She would show Stephen that she was here for him - if he would have her. If he had chosen another, then she would move on with her own life, and cherish her memories.

  With a sense of strong determination driving her on, Lucia pulled on her clothes. Then she reached deep into the chest and warily took out the well-worn mirror that had been her mother’s. She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair out. She instinctively began to braid it, but then stopped to leave it loose, nodding as she did so.

  Even if Stephen would not have her, she had been granted countless blessings. She was alive. She was home. Her child was safe.

  She would treasure each gift.

  Lucia was prepared for the weakness when she stood, and she gripped the edge of the bed, willing herself to remain upright. After a few moments the vertigo faded. The strength of finally being able to do something about her feelings sustained her where she might have fallen. She glanced around and pulled on the boots she found nearby. There was nothing else in the room she needed for now. Another wave of nausea hit her, and she staggered. She leaned against the frame of the door for a moment, then straightened.

  Lucia pushed her door open and looked down the meandering corridor. It was deserted. Strange, no noise filtered down from the other rooms. Making her way slowly up the hallways, she found only flickering torches and empty rooms. Finally, she reached the small side entrance she had been aiming for, and poked her head outside into the courtyard, leaning on the wall for support.

  The fortress entrance, built into the mountain, overlooked a large, enclosed, straw-strewn area which was surrounded by the town, and walls, of Keilder. The area was currently filled to the brim with people, animals, banners, and soldiers of all types. Lucia could make out most of Keilder’s troops, many of Penrith’s and other surrounding kingdoms. With shock and a fair amount of pleasure, she realized that even the villagers she had been captured by were well represented.

  On a wooden platform in the center of the courtyard was a large table, with Michael, Stephen, Lord Edmund, and John standing behind it. John was putting his mark on a large piece of paper, and a cheer went up in the crowd. Michael let it go on for some time, then raised both his hands. The courtyard went quiet as he spoke.

  “At last, we have peace. Not the peace of conqueror and defeated, but the peace of friendship and understanding, with the potential to last many lifetimes. It is time to put aside old grudges and wounds and embrace each other. To work together and grow to live and love together.”

  Michael let the cheer echo off the walls and mountains for a while. When the crowd settled again, he smiled broadly. “To begin this new era, and with her father’s permission, I formally now ask Anna to be my wife and Lady.” He offered his hand to Anna, and pulled her onto the platform amidst much cheering. Anna stood beside him, smiling and waving to the crowd.

  Lucia sagged back against the frame, her mind whirling. It was Michael that had wanted to be with Anna? Is that what the announcement back at the great hall had meant? Her world spun as everything she had remembered about that time took on new meaning. She berated herself for being so unaware of what was going on, of jumping to such wrong conclusions. How could she have wound herself into such a state?

  Slowly, turning those memories over in her mind, she smiled in understanding, and breathed deeply. How foolish she had been. To think that she had assumed so quickly, without any reason, that Stephen had turned away from her. If only she had waited, if only she had asked, if only she had given them more time.

  Lucia pushed aside her regrets; that was in the past. It was time to think about the future. Anna would certainly be busy converting Keilder from a war fortress to the center of a new peace and culture. Lucia almost envied Anna’s position - it seemed she now had everything she had ever dreamed of.

  Michael gave Anna a tender kiss, then waved for the crowd to quiet. “Let us not forget,” he added in a booming voice, “the many people who worked to make this peace possible. Stephen, my good friend, was instrumental in making this happen. We all owe him a large measure of thanks.” He turned and clasped Stephen’s arm in a firm hold.

  The courtyard became quiet, but to Lucia it was as if all of the inhabitants faded away into shadows. Her attention became transfixed on Stephen’s face as he moved to the front of the platform. She felt as if there were only her and Stephen, separated by a short distance in a large audience hall. Although he stood straight, his eyes were heavy with sadness, his forehead etched with lines of worry. She wanted to run to him and hold him, but her old doubts, nurtured for so long, clung to her tenaciously. She couldn’t quite allow herself, after all this time, to believe her dreams might come true. What if, after all, he simply did not want her? What if, when she pledged herself to him, he refused her love? The conflicting emotions tore at her. She wanted to be with him, but she feared facing the rejection of all she’d hoped for. She forced herself to simply stay by the door, to listen to his words.

  Stephen looked slowly across the assembly, and when he spoke his voice was rich with suffering. “Like many of you here, I have paid a high toll for living through this war. The woman most dear to me is near death. The life of our child, our tiny son or daughter, hangs by a thread.” He paused for a moment, head lowered, and Lucia’s eyes brimmed with tears, absorbing the fact that Stephen knew about the baby.

  He found out I was pregnant - and he does not feel shame. The thought was almost overwhelming, and the relief that swept over her left her weak but happy. She wiped her tears away absently with her sleeve.

  Stephen looked out again at the crowd, regaining his control. “The one woman I love, your Lady, lies grievously hurt in the fortress beyond. If I can have one thing, if there is indeed a debt owed me for the work I have done, I wish to have her returned to my side.” He paused for a moment, and continued more softly, “For I know not what I will do without her.”

  Lucia caught her breath as the words rolled across the silent courtyard. Stephen’s eyes, so dark and full of pain, filled her vision. That face she loved was wracked with suffering.

  The emotion hit her with full force.

  Stephen loved her.

  She pulled herself up and walked unsteadily out onto the stone steps before her. Her voice rang out clearly into the silence that had settled over the gathering.

  “I was never one to follow commands, my love.” Lucia paused as Stephen’s eyes raced to find her in the crowd, and she smiled tenderly. “This one I shall obey - with all my heart.”

  The crowd turned in murmuring excitement to look at the speaker, but Lucia saw only the brightening of Stephen’s eyes, the look of surprise and joy on his face. A way parted easily in front of her as she went to the platform. Hands helped her climb the few steps, and then she was standing before him, still finding it hard to believe this was all real. Stephen took the few steps that separated them. His arms enfolded her in a tender embrace, pressing her tightly to him.

  She closed her eyes, face against his chest.

  She would never let him go.

  Stephen’s voice caught as he murmured, “Oh Lucia, Lucia - never doubt that I love you. Never.” He looked down at her, his gaze glowing with pride.

  Lucia gazed back up at him, feeling that this was almost too much to hope for. Tears filled her eyes. “I thought I had lost you.”

  Stephen gently kissed her on the forehead. “I will not risk having you torn from me again.” He looked up, and glanced at Michael. Michael nodded, his
gaze rich with joy.

  Stephen turned and faced the crowd again, holding Lucia gently in his arms. “I have a question to ask afresh, in front of this whole assembly. With Michael’s permission, will you marry me, Lucia of Keilder?”

  He looked back down into her eyes, waiting for an answer.

  The world fell away, and it was just his brown eyes watching over her, rich with love and fierce protectiveness.

  All doubt fled, and she gave him a soft smile.

  “I was yours when you nursed me through the fever, holding with determination onto the thin thread which was my life. I was yours when you held your anger, despite me driving you past all rational limits. I was yours when you stayed by my side, watching me slip away, willing to give me up if it meant I might heal.”

  His eyes shone, and he brought his hands before him. He eased the ring off his finger, and she held her hand out to his. The circle was warm from his body heat, and flame coursed through her as he settled it onto her finger.

  She looked at it for a long moment, then brought her gaze back to meet his. Her voice rose, to carry across to the furthest reaches of the keep.

  “I adore you with all my heart, my beloved, and I shall never leave your side again.”

  The courtyard echoed with cheers, reverberating up to the dark blue skies, skies the color of his gold-embroidered banner which fluttered proudly in the breeze. His eyes were warm on her, and then he drew her in, his heart-achingly tender kiss sending golden tendrils through every corner of her soul.

  At long last, she knew what it was to be utterly whole.

  Chapter 29

  Three years later

  Lucia looked around the courtyard with pride at the wealth of merchants who had come to participate in the first annual harvest festival. It seemed the entire region had poured in to support their efforts. She had seen weavers from Keswick, tinsmiths from Hartlepool, and were those fine bracelets really all the way from London?