Protected by the Warrior

by Barbara Phinney

  He had to convince Clara that ’twould be better for the child to go with its father. The child would grow strong and healthy, as he’d heard Lord and Lady Dunmow’s babe was now doing.

  Clara gripped his arm and whispered, “Don’t make me break my promises. They are all I have. Please, Kenneth. I gave my life to God’s care and direction, and now you want me to follow yours instead?”

  She was so close to him. She was warm, and her riotous hair had escaped her kerchief to brush along his hands as he gripped her shoulders. Her pleading whisper stole his focus. If the moon was out, he would see clear skin that resembled polished marble and lips as soft as summer evenings. Aye, he’d noticed her beauty before, but suddenly, the very truth of it ripped all good sense from him. He should be taking her back to her house, barring the door and preparing for an order from the keep—

  But he could do nothing but hold her face and battle the desire to lower his lips to hers.

  Brindi shifted beside them, and the moment of addled intimacy burst apart like a spark from a pithy log tossed onto a fire. He jerked back and let Clara go.

  “We should return to your home. ’Twould be best if you followed me. I don’t want us walking down the road past the keep in case someone sees us. The sentries are all awake now.”

  They all turned to peer up the hill at the keep. Only the guard points on the battlement were lit by torches, but a low hum of activity reached through the night air to them.

  “Aye,” Clara whispered. “We should travel close to the forest, behind the smithy’s home first, then the other buildings. But be careful. We don’t want to trip over fences or wrench an ankle in holes or furrows.”

  They picked their way behind the blacksmith’s house and workshop, Clara leading Brindi by the hand. Kenneth took her free hand. At the third home, a dog somewhere ahead of them heard their slinking and began to bark. The forest seemed to encroach upon them, forcing them to slip back along the road. A few people were still awake in their homes, judging by thin beams of light that escaped from under closed doors or through shuttered windows. ’Twould be easy for those awake to come out to investigate why the dog barked so.

  A raindrop hit Kenneth’s arm, and he felt another on his shoulder. The rain had begun, a soft spitting that confirmed what the clouds had told him earlier that day. He heard a woman’s voice inside the closest house warn of the rain, and he knew immediately the weather would keep many villagers from attending midnight services. At that moment, the rain increased, turning quickly into a steady downpour.

  With the sentries preoccupied by the visitors to the keep, and the rain making it more difficult for soldiers to spot them, they were able to slip close to the graveyard and the keep. Kenneth stole a look up at the top of the tower. Lord Adrien and Lady Ediva’s bedchamber was up there, and through the parchment shutter, a light grew in intensity. Aye, the whole keep would be awake now. But with that, fewer sentries would be as vigilant, choosing instead to peer into the bailey to see why Taurin had arrived. The trio made it to Clara’s home undetected.

  Despite being soaked, Kenneth breathed a sigh of relief as he bolted the door. Of course, should Lord Taurin’s men want in, ’twould not be hard to kick it in, as Kenneth himself had done a few days ago with the old door. But Lord Taurin would not overstep his authority. ’Twas not the king’s standard one of his men carried, but the baron’s own. Lord Eudo had traveled often with the king’s flag to ease his passage and represent the king, but it would seem that Taurin did not have that luxury. At least, not tonight.

  Light bled into the hut’s main room and Kenneth immediately noticed Clara’s worried expression.

  Outside, the rain increased, though the thatch muted the steady thrum. “We’re safe for the night, Clara. No one will come out in this rain.”

  “True.” She pursed her lips. She took Brindi’s cloak and her own and hung them near the fire to dry. Then she faced Kenneth. He could sense a sudden awkwardness within her. “You should retire, Clara. I suspect ’twill be a long day tomorrow and you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Aye.” Clara shooed her sister into the other room. She then turned. “Kenneth, thank you for tonight. If you had not followed us, we’d have been trampled by Taurin’s men, or worse, recognized by them, for surely they have a description of me from the townsfolk in Colchester who told him of my whereabouts.”

  “I do suspect ’twas the townsfolk, and not Lord Eudo who told him. I can’t imagine that he would simply reveal where he’d sent you. That letter Lord Eudo wrote implied that he didn’t trust Taurin at all.”

  She bit her lip. “Did you really read that letter? I mean, read it like the chaplain reads from the Bible?” she asked softly, almost in awe.

  “Aye. Before I became Lord Adrien’s squire, I had learned my numbers and letters. ’Tis rare to be taught, I know, but our parish priest had offered the lessons to the boys in our village. I suspect he wanted to see who was capable of doing his job, for he was an old man and was also our village chronicler. He needed someone to replace him.”

  “You weren’t chosen?” A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You weren’t the most capable of learning to read?”

  He thought a moment, then laughed abruptly. “Nay. In fact,” he said with a chuckle, “the most apt pupil was a girl. Adela was her name, and she dressed in her brother’s clothes and slipped into the chapel that first day with hopes of learning her letters and numbers.”

  Clara’s eyes widened. “Was she caught?”

  “Aye. Her brother denounced her immediately. But our old priest agreed to teach her and she learned well. I, however, only wanted to squire a knight and not bother with foolish lessons. It reflected in my studies, I’m ashamed to say.”

  “You must have learned enough if you could read that missive.”

  “It worked out well. Lord Adrien took me as his squire when he was barely an adult himself. He continued my lessons, for his family has ties to the royal court and could afford to school their boys. I’ve learned consistently since.”

  Silence dropped between them. Kenneth found himself staring at her in the dim light from the fire and the lamp. Clara was lovely, with her pale skin and with hair so unique a color that it competed with the flames for boldness and with the world for words. He felt like a fool struggling to define its beauty, for he knew no words to describe her effectively.

  Then she smiled softly, and at once, his attention to her hair broke and he found himself drawn to her lips again.

  The need to touch her lips with his flared within him. Immediately, he pulled himself back emotionally. “Clara, I need to go to the keep and find out Lord Taurin’s plans.”

  She swallowed and nodded. Then, looking away, she moved toward the curtain.

  “Clara?”

  She pivoted when Kenneth spoke. “Aye?”

  “I know Rowena needs you, but ’tis a hard rain and the night is as black as pitch. Promise me you won’t slip away again tonight.”

  She paused. “I promise.”

  For the first time, Kenneth saw resignation in her eyes. She’d shown worry, confusion and pensiveness as she worked out plans in her mind, but tonight, she was exhausted and resigned to stay inside.

  Also for the first time, Kenneth actually believed her words. And with that realization came a wash of compassion.

  “Good night, then. I shall be asleep should you return,” she whispered, drawing back the curtain to step behind it.

  “Good night. But, Clara, I will not sleep.”

  She sighed. “I just told you I won’t leave.”

  “’Tis not why I’m going into the keep. We need to know what Taurin wants. Someone will still be awake who’ll know what his plans are.”

  “He plans to find me and force me to tell him where Rowena is!”

  “But how and when? He has to find you first. And I need to know what Lord Adrien intends to do with him.” He stepped closer. “Trust me, Clara. I won’t reveal where you a
re, and I will tell the men to say nothing, as well. Do you trust me with that?”

  Clara blinked, swallowed and finally nodded. “Aye. You saved my life tonight. And Brindi’s, too. The least I can do is trust you this one time.”

  He smiled, albeit briefly, at her. A part of him too big for its own good flared up, wanting to stay here with Clara. So rarely had he seen the softer, more feminine side of her. ’Twould be nice to explore it.

  To kiss her.

  Nay. Such would only distract him. After freeing his cloak from the bed he’d made and tossing it around his shoulders, he disappeared into the wet night.

  Chapter Twelve

  The gatekeeper was still awake and ordered the guard to open the small door. Kenneth slipped inside. The rain continued on, soaking his cloak and hitting the guard’s helmet in a steady rhythm that surely caused a headache. The torch the guard held sizzled and threatened to snuff out.

  “Here, Sergeant,” the gatekeeper said, handing Kenneth a storm lamp. In the unceasing rain, it did very little to light his path, but the gesture was appreciated.

  Kenneth made his way toward the keep’s main door. The stables to the right were lit and he could hear several men settling the newly arrived horses down for the night. Taurin’s courser neighed loudly, fretting and stamping its foot. Kenneth hurried on. Within the keep, little stirred, but what did felt fraught with tension, humming like the air before a lightning storm.

  He spied Harry slipping into Lord Adrien’s private office. As he hurried toward the boy, he stopped to peer into the Great Hall. As was the custom of soldiers, the trestle tables had been set up around the fire, and each had someone sleeping on it. All except one, the one closest to the fire. ’Twas empty and obviously set aside for Taurin. Already, several men were snoring, various rhythms rolling around the room.

  Taurin had not been given Lord Adrien’s office to sleep in? It had room for a good brazier to drive away the damp chill.

  Did that mean that Lord Adrien distrusted the man as much as his brother did?

  Kenneth looked to Harry. “What has happened?”

  The boy glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door to the office. “An important baron has arrived,” he whispered, looking up as Kenneth followed him in. When he shut the door, the boy peered up at the sergeant with earnest, worried eyes. “He took my sleeping bench.”

  “Never mind that. And I know all about Lord Taurin. What else has happened?”

  Harry swallowed. “He demanded an audience with Lord Adrien. Milord rose, but said nothing would be decided tonight and he would talk to him on the morrow.”

  “Lord Adrien retired again?”

  “Aye, he did.” Harry cocked his head and listened. “Lord Taurin is awake and somewhere in the keep. I heard him walking about when I went to sleep behind the kitchen with Cook and the maids, before she kicked me out. She said I was too old to sleep with the women.”

  Kenneth suppressed a smile. The boy’s pout suggested he had little idea what the cook meant, and indeed, for all of Harry’s precociousness, he was still naive of the ways of men and women. “You have this room, though ’tis unheated. Is Lord Taurin searching the keep?”

  Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Cook asked one of the guards to stay outside the door, though.” Again, Harry cocked his head. “Listen! That Lord Taurin is coming back!”

  The boy hurried to the door and pressed his ear against it. “He is a terrible man, sir. He ordered us all off the tables so his men could sleep, and he smacked Rypan when he didn’t answer him.”

  Kenneth tightened his jaw. Cook’s nephew, Rypan, was a simple boy who didn’t speak. But he was a good worker and a slap was unwarranted. “What did Lord Taurin say to him?”

  “He ordered him to curry his horses and bed them down for the night. Rypan was terrified, and when he didn’t answer, Lord Taurin backhanded him.” Harry held up his hand and listened. “He’s speaking to his men.”

  Kenneth cared not for eavesdropping, nor could he hear anything, anyway. But Harry had the ears of youth, and when his eyes widened, Kenneth gave in to his curiosity and worry. “What do you hear?” he whispered.

  “Lord Taurin has ordered a search of the village at daybreak.”

  “What kind of a search?”

  “For a woman with red hair. He says they must rouse all the villagers before they dress for the day, so as to catch them unawares.” Harry peered at Kenneth. “Red hair? Is he after the midwife, sir? Why?”

  “Never mind. Just remember that you haven’t seen her in days.”

  “Aye, ’tis true, anyway. But what if Lord Taurin asks where she lives?”

  “He can’t ask you if he can’t find you. Make yourself scarce. I know you’ve done it before when there’s been work to be done. And take Rypan with you. The boy doesn’t deserve to be pummeled.”

  “What are you going to do, sir? They will surely find Clara at daybreak.”

  “Nay, they won’t.” Kenneth paused. “Has Lord Taurin gone into the Great Hall?”

  Harry pressed his ear against the door again. “Aye, I think so. That man is as evil as they come! You can hear it in his voice. He even got mad at his horse for something about its shoe.”

  Kenneth eased open the door. He had to get back to Clara. What he would do, he wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing. Clara had not been lying when she said how dangerous Lord Taurin was.

  The corridor was empty, but he would not slip past the entrance to the Great Hall, not while there was a good chance Taurin was still awake. He moved to the right, through the kitchen and out the side door that led to the small garden.

  A plan formed jot by jot in his mind as he pulled his soaking cloak closer around him. The rain beat down steadily as he made his way around the keep toward the stables. As Harry had said, Taurin had ordered that his horses be sheltered, which meant the keep’s old mares were shoved outside and tethered to a post to stand in the rain. Lord Adrien’s courser and Lady Ediva’s fine mare, a wedding gift she had yet to ride, were safe inside, but the pair of old ponies here hung their heads.

  Rypan was busy inside, tossing straw into the stalls, occasionally wiping his tears away. The boy was practically a man, but in his mind, he still lingered in childhood, and Kenneth’s heart wrenched at the sight of him crying.

  When the boy spied him at the door, he froze, his eyes wide with fear and his body tensed to take flight. “Nay, Rypan,” Kenneth said softly, “I am not here to discipline you. I will take two of the mares tonight and give them shelter elsewhere.”

  ’Twas of little use to ask Rypan to explain, should anyone ask where the mares had gone, for the boy would probably not speak. Kenneth lifted his finger to his lips to indicate quiet and secretiveness, and the boy gave the briefest of nods in return.

  Tethered together, the mares followed obediently as Kenneth made his way to Clara’s house. He would hide them behind the house, where the encroaching forest would give them some shelter and their body heat would offer each other some warmth.

  On the morrow, he would rouse Clara and Brindi before daybreak and take them away from the village. The details of his plan would fill themselves in as the night progressed, for he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He’d be worried he’d awaken too late, to the sounds of Taurin’s men breaking down the door in their search for Clara.

  The horses settled for the night, Kenneth crept inside. No sounds came from the bedchamber, save the pair softly breathing in tandem. He was glad Clara had finally been able to sleep. He banked the fire, set his cloak close to it to dry and then tidied up the foodstuffs Clara had planned for Rowena.

  Lord, keep her dry tonight.

  The suddenness of the prayer jolted him. He had not yet considered Rowena’s lodging in the form of a prayer. He shivered from the dampness. At least the night wasn’t cold.

  Needing to do something to pass the time, Kenneth pulled from his pocket the one thing he kept with him constantly, a few verses of Scripture he’d handwr
itten many years ago. The priest who’d taught him to read had made them all rewrite passages, and though his script was messy and blotted by unsteady attempts to control the ink, the words were readable. And had long since been committed to memory.

  He turned up the lamp, sat down at the table and began to read, forcing himself to fight fatigue with every word and hoping the verses would give him strength.

  * * *

  “Clara?”

  A harsh whisper pulled Clara from her sleep, and she fought it away. Her dream was pleasant and she wanted to stay in it.

  “Clara!”

  Something shook her, and she bolted up. Her first thought was that someone was sick, but in the semidark of the room, she could make out only Kenneth’s long form leaning over her. Automatically, she drew up the bedclothes. “What is wrong? Why are you in here?”

  “We need to leave. Now! Get dressed, and get Brindi ready. The rain has let up, but dress warmly, for there is still a drizzle. We’ll break our fast later.”

  He disappeared back into the outer room. Still in the fog of sleep, she blinked. What was going on? ’Twas still dark out, but she could hear him moving around in the other room. Hastily, she roused Brindi and dressed her warmly. When ready, they both slipped past the curtain.

  Kenneth had rearranged much of the main room and bundled a large parcel together. She looked around. Her pots and herbs and all that she needed as a healer were tucked away out of sight.

  No one would know she even lived here. “What happened to my things?”

  “’Tis of no importance, Clara. We must leave now.” He took Brindi’s hand and led them both from the hut. Clara turned left and stalled when she saw the two mares standing obediently on the flagstone path. “Where are we going? Kenneth, if you think—”

  “No time for words. And nay, I do not expect you to lead me to Rowena. We’re headed north.” He scooped up Brindi and set her on the withers of the larger horse. When he turned, he held out his hand. “Come, Clara, show me how much better you ride. You and Brindi take the bigger one. I will ride the smaller mare.”