by The Leopard
Astra’s face flushed. She had tried to force the memory from her mind, but she could not forget the sight of a dozen naked men bathing in the river. Their bodies were pale and hairy, their private parts odd, dangling things that revolted Astra as much as fascinated her.
“In truth, the monks were not such fine-looking creatures, were they?” Marguerite admitted. “What we seek are handsome, virile young knights. Perhaps over there.”
Marguerite set off briskly for the part of the fair reserved for entertainments—jugglers and minstrels, cockfighting and dicing. Astra’s heart sank as they neared the crowded scene. If any young knights were to be found at the fair, it would likely be there. She hesitated, suddenly realizing she was not ready to learn about men quite yet. “Marguerite!” she called after her friend. “Can we not look for the spice booth now?”
Marguerite turned, frowning. “Since it is your first fair, Astra, I will humor you. But as soon as we are done there, I mean to discover some gentlemen.”
They followed their noses to the source of the alluring scents that wafted above the crude odors of people and food. Drawing near to a booth that offered rare condiments such as cinnamon and ginger, Astra closed her eyes and breathed deeply, enthralled by the sweet odors that brought to mind foreign, exotic places. Her reverie was broken when Marguerite whispered teasingly in her ear.
“Astra, time for your first lesson.”
Astra opened her eyes to see three knights approaching. They did not have on full armor, but they wore hauberks and carried swords at their sides, swaggering with the bravado of fighting men. To Astra they appeared threatening and evil. She reminded herself that no harm could come to her and Marguerite. The Fitz Hugh knights would protect them, wouldn’t they? Astra looked around and grew uneasy as she realized their escort was nowhere in sight.
“Marguerite,” Astra whispered. “Where are they? Where are your father’s men?”
“Those tiresome fools,” Marguerite scoffed. “They’re all as old as my father—and nearly as easy to deceive. We gave them the slip back by the cloth merchants.”
“We’re alone and unprotected!”
“Exactly,” Marguerite answered.
The knights continued to approach. Astra ducked into the spice booth and pretended to examine a packet of peppercorns, praying frantically the knights would pass them by. Her hopes were in vain, for as the three soldiers approached them, Marguerite deliberately dropped one of the velvet slippers she had just purchased. “Oh, how clumsy of me!” she exclaimed.
The three knights halted, and the largest one reached down and retrieved the dainty object.
“My lady,” he said. He handed it to Marguerite with a flourish.
“You are most kind, sir.” Marguerite smiled. She turned to Astra. “Oh, cousin, if only we had not lost track of Sir de Chilham and the rest of our escort. I have no one to carry my purchases, and am so affeared I shall lose something “
Astra gaped at her friend. It was bad enough they were unprotected, but to draw attention to their vulnerability before these dangerous-looking men—was Marguerite mad?
“My lady, we would be honored to serve you,” the nearest knight asserted. “Pray, spend your money freely, we will be happy to carry all that you buy.”
Astra looked the man over critically. He was not unpleasant to look at, with tousled fair hair and pale gray eyes. But there was something malevolent about him, an insincerity to his smile. The warmth of it did not reach his shrewd, unsettling eyes.
Astra put a hand on Marguerite’s arm, begging her silently to refuse. Of course, it was not to be. Marguerite was determined Astra should spend some time in the company of men.
The three soldiers trailed along as they walked among the merchant booths. Marguerite chattered merrily. Occasionally she stopped to purchase ribbons and combs and thread, inconsequential things she and Astra could have easily carried themselves. Once, they almost ran into one of the Fitz Hugh knights, but Marguerite deftly steered Astra into a leather shop before she could get the man’s attention.
Astra endured their masculine companions glumly. She’d had a chance to observe the three knights more closely, and proximity hadn’t enhanced her opinion. They seemed like coarse, ill-mannered louts, and their leader’s inept conversational skills made it clear he was not accustomed to escorting ladies. Marguerite carried the conversation, nay, dragged it along.
Astra’s alarm intensified when the tall, fair-haired knight suggested they take a respite in the shade of the nearby forest. Astra looked at Marguerite, sure she would refuse the offer. To Astra’s horror, her friend fluttered her long dark lashes. “What a lovely idea,” she cooed at the man. “I’m sure the woods would be much cooler and more comfortable than the open meadow.”
Astra reluctantly followed Marguerite and the three men into the shadowy, sunlight-speckled woods. She tried to reassure herself that they were really only a short distance from the outer edge of the fair. If, God forbid, something unpleasant happened, they could call out and someone would surely come to their rescue.
They’d barely entered the humid green foliage when Marguerite allowed the golden-haired knight to take her arm. A few moments later, she leaned into him, pulling him into an awkward embrace. The man looked startled, then recovered. He bent over and kissed Marguerite enthusiastically. Astra could only stare. She’d worried the knight might make improper advances toward Marguerite, not the other way around! What was she to do now?
She glanced at the other two men, noting their hungry, speculative looks. Something in their faces made a scream form in her throat. Before she could actually find her voice, one of the men grabbed her and clamped a heavy hand over her mouth.
Astra began to struggle, certain she was on the verge of being ravished. She caught a wedge of flesh in her teeth and bit down. The man cried out and landed a blow on the side of her head. The impact made her dizzy, and for a time she could not think clearly. When she came to herself, the fair-haired knight was chastising the man who held her.
“Damn you, Tom, don’t hurt her! How will we collect the ransom if she dies?”
“Ransom! You mean to ransom us?” Marguerite’s voice rose, furious, utterly outraged.
“Aye, my lusty little vixen,” the blond knight answered. He directed his attention back to her. “You have just told me how dear your father holds you and how rich he is. I’d be a fool not to test Lord Fitz Hugh’s devotion.”
“Why... you... bastard!” Marguerite flung herself violently at the knight she had embraced only seconds before. The man did not endure her pummeling long. He pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt and pointed it directly at Marguerite’s heaving bosom.
Two
“I tell you, Richard, if you train much more you’ll only lose your edge.”
Richard shook his head. “You don’t understand. I mean to be perfect, absolutely magnificent for this tournament. They say Lord Darley is offering a manor to the victor.”
“Winning land—is that all you think of?”
“What else is there?” Richard asked, his dark eyes glowing.
“I know it sounds false, coming from me, but wealth and power aren’t everything. You cannot buy happiness.”
Richard laughed uproariously and slapped his friend soundly on the back. The blow was hardly felt, for both men wore full armor, except for their conical helmets, which they carried.
“You’re right, Will, it does sound false. You’re so filthy rich you can’t even imagine what it’s like to be a poor landless knight.”
“I’ve told you before, Richard, I’d be pleased to speak to the King about awarding you a manor...”
“The King!” Richard’s dark eyes flashed with contempt. “Since I’m not from Provence, Henry isn’t likely to give me anything. He’s so busy handing out castles, manors and bishoprics to his wife’s relatives he can’t be bothered with his loyal knights.”
Will sighed. Richard wasn’t exaggerating. King Henry’s shameles
s promotion of his Provencal relatives was the talk of England.
“When I think of all the battles I’ve won for him...” Richard grumbled.
“Look sharp, Richard. What’s that ahead of us?”
The two men froze, straining to see through the budding green foliage. A short distance away, a group of rough men appeared to be guarding two plainly dressed women. The women’s faces were pale and strained, the men watchful and furtive.
“God’s blood, Will, they’re prisoners!”
“It does look that way. Worse yet, the women are dressed like novices. What kind of men would harass holy sisters?”
“They’re obviously sacrilegious as well as unchivalrous,” Richard growled. “It’ll make killing them even better sport.”
“What say you then—the count of three?”
Richard nodded and then pulled on his helmet and drew his heavy sword.
* * *
Astra didn’t even see their rescuers arrive. As she prayed silently, the man guarding her abruptly fell over backwards. She turned and gaped at the man’s pale, slack face. A stream of crimson darkened the leaves around his scalp, and Astra realized he’d been hit over the head.
The rest of it happened almost as quickly. The big fair-haired knight grabbed Marguerite again and held his knife to her throat. While Astra’s horrified eyes were fixed on the glittering blade, the man abruptly dropped the knife and slumped to the ground, his head nearly cleaved in two by a massive sword blow. Later, Astra would learn the third man hadn’t lingered, but immediately bolted into the forest. At the time she was too overcome to care. The sight of so much blood undid her. She bent over and began to retch, heaving up the rich, spicy food she’d recently eaten.
As she spat out the last sour dregs, Astra felt a steadying arm at her elbow. Assuming it was Marguerite, she nearly gagged again when she looked up and saw a helmeted knight next to her. With a shiver of dread, she shook off his mailed arm and stared in dismay at the tall knight’s hideous visage. With his conical helmet and nose guard he looked like a terrifying, evil being, a devil.
The knight stared back at her. She could see his eyes at least. They were dark, almost black, and they watched her with an intensity that was utterly unnerving.
“Is she all right?”
Both she and the knight turned to see another knight approach, holding Marguerite’s arm. He wore the same ferocious-looking armor as the dark-eyed knight, but he didn’t seem nearly as intimidating. He was smaller than Astra’s rescuer, and his movements were refined and graceful. When his companion didn’t answer, he released Marguerite and pulled off his helmet, revealing long, straight brown hair, blue eyes and fine, almost delicate features.
“God’s toes, Richard, take off your helmet. You’re scaring her.”
The dark-eyed knight made no move to comply. The other man frowned, then approached Astra and bowed politely.
“My lady, are you well?”
Astra managed to nod. She was still trembling and dazed. She’d never been exposed to violent death before, and the ugliness of it appalled her.
Marguerite clutched at the smaller knight’s arm. “How can we ever repay you? If you hadn’t come along at that very moment...” Marguerite gave a dramatic shiver. “They said their intentions were to ransom us, but I fear...” She fluttered her long, dark lashes demurely. “I fear their intentions were something much worse.”
“They meant to ransom you?” The dark-eyed knight named Richard spoke abruptly. “How can that be? How could they hope to ransom a nun?”
Marguerite gave a soft, seductive laugh. “You thought we were nuns? Oh, no, my lord. While we travel from Stafford Priory, we aren’t bound by holy orders. I am Lady Marguerite Fitz Hugh, and this is my cousin, Astra de Mortain,”
Astra felt the man holding her stiffen at the mention of Stafford, but she was too surprised by Marguerite’s words to ponder why. Marguerite had introduced Astra as her cousin. It was a blatant lie, and it made Astra exceedingly uncomfortable. It was one thing to tell a falsehood to the group of disreputable louts, another to deceive wellborn knights, especially after they had come to their rescue. Astra opened her mouth to protest. Marguerite silenced her with bright, pleading eyes.
The smaller knight bowed again, this time with a regal flourish. “We are honored to be at your service, demoiselles. I am William de Lacy, Baron of Thornbury. And my companion...” He gestured to the dark-eyed knight. “That is Richard Reivers, also known as the Black Leopard, one of the bravest and fiercest knights in Christendom.”
Astra could only stare. Sweet Jesu! They had been rescued by a baron! A baron and a... a devil! She glanced again at Sir Richard. He still had not removed his helmet, and he appeared as deadly and dangerous as ever. The Black Leopard—how many men had he killed to win that horrifying appellation?
Marguerite seemed slightly taken aback by the prominence of their rescuers, but she recovered quickly. “You must be here for the tournament,” she suggested. “I told my cousin there would be knights in the area, that someone would come to our rescue.”
“But where are your men?” Sir Richard asked. “Surely you don’t travel without an escort.”
“In the confusion of the fair, we became separated from my father’s knights. Then those awful men...” Marguerite glanced with a shudder at the slaughtered pair lying gruesomely nearby. “They offered to help us.” Her lower lip trembled. “I feel like such a fool. We should have known better than to trust such ill-mannered knaves.”
“Aye, you should have known better,” Lord de Lacy agreed dryly. “You were very lucky we came along when we did.” He gave Astra a concerned look. “Can you walk, my lady?”
Astra nodded.
“Very well then, I think we’d best be finding your men.”
De Chilham spotted them as soon as they left the woods. He rushed up, his face flushed, his thinning hair sweaty and disheveled. “Lady Marguerite, where have you been? Who are these men?”
De Lacy stepped forward, bowing gracefully to the older knight. “Your mistress came very near to being kidnapped by a group of ruffians. My companion Sir Richard and I arrived just in time to prevent the abduction.”
The blood drained from de Chilham’s face. “Lady Marguerite, is this true?”
With a chagrined look, Marguerite nodded.
For a moment de Chilham stared at her, then he exploded. “This time, demoiselle, you have gone too far. Your father will hear of your adventures as soon as I deliver you to Ravensmore, and I promise you, he will not be pleased. Get yourself to your horse this minute—and see you do not get into any more trouble on the way!”
Marguerite managed another dramatic shift. She suddenly appeared as meek and contrite as a chastised child. She bowed politely to de Lacy and Reivers and then walked off with dainty, mincing steps, lifting her skirts fastidiously to avoid the muck of the fairgrounds.
Astra would have followed her friend, but Sir Richard continued to hold her arm. She turned and stared at him in puzzlement, wondering if he thought she would be ill again. His helmet did not entirely hide his face, and she could see his mouth below the nose piece. His surprisingly full, sensual lips were formed into a smile.
She frowned back, disturbed by his expression. Was he mocking her? She abruptly pulled her arm away, then offered a shaky curtsy to Lord de Lacy. She was halfway across the maze of booths and tents before she realized neither she nor Marguerite had thanked their rescuers.
* * *
“Will, about those young women...” Richard began as the two men walked toward the ale tent.
“Odd, wasn’t it....” Will mused. “The way de Chilham lost control. They did behave stupidly, but still... to shout at a lady like that, the daughter of your liege lord... I can only think de Chilham was so overcome with worry that he forgot himself.”
“William, I’m trying to tell you—I know those women.”
“Know them?” Will turned in surprise.
“You remember the
luscious young ladies we saw swimming near Stafford last summer?”
“No! It couldn’t be!”
“I was skeptical too. But when they mentioned they were traveling from Stafford, I looked them over thoroughly. I’m sure Lady Marguerite was the tall, dark-haired girl who got out of the water first, and Lady Astra—she is...”
“Your Venus,” Will finished.
Richard nodded. “It strains the imagination, but it’s true. I’ve found her. I know her name. And the best part is...”
“She’s not a nun!” Will finished brightly.
Richard shook his head. “No. The best part is that she’s undoubtedly rich. Lord Fitz Hugh has land in Kent, Brittany and Wales as well as Westford. I can’t imagine his niece would not be well-dowered.”
“Rich, innocent and beautiful beyond compare—it seems you have found the woman of your dreams.”
“And she’s on her way north this very minute, damn the luck,” Richard grumbled. “Besides, she’s probably betrothed. That’s likely why they’re leaving the nunnery.”
“For shame, Richard, it’s not like you to give up so easily.”
“You’re right, Will,” Richard agreed with a mischievous smile. “Although I may never lay claim to Lady Astra’s dower lands, I might yet claim her body. After all, ’tis mine by rights. I’ll wager I was the first man to look upon her glorious nakedness.”
“I had almost forgotten the incident. As I recall, the young woman caught you watching her. Is that why you refused to remove your helmet?”
Richard nodded. “I thought Lady Astra had endured enough shocks today without recognizing me. Watching a man be killed caused her to lose her meal. She’d have likely fainted dead away at the sight of me.”
“What an odd day it’s been. We rescue two nuns from brigands, only to find that they’re not nuns at all, but beautiful young heiresses. It almost makes you wonder if there isn’t something to the saying, ‘virtue is its own reward.’”
“Don’t be a dolt, Will. It was blind chance that we came upon those women when we did. Besides, we haven’t received any reward. Sir de Chilham hardly even appeared grateful that we returned his delectable young charges safely.”
