The Protector

by Becca St. John

  He watched her, ahead of him, as though all sour memories rested in the past. She rode as one with the horse. A flash of sunlight streaked through the spring green canopy, shadow and light across the indent of waist, the swell of lush hips so relaxed in the saddle.

  She reached behind her to rub at the small of her back.

  Roland lifted his face to the sun, his eyes closed, and prayed that God would help him be true to his vow.

  His horse shied, caught him off-guard. All in one, he fought to hold his seat, cursed the distraction of his wife, and razed his gaze over the rest of the riders.

  Crashing and cracking came from the lead where Sir Harold rounded the bend.

  Ambush?

  Sir Harold’s horse reared, snorted with fright. The old knight fought for control. All three turned at the sound of Veri’s cry. She tried to dismount, as her horse pulled against her.

  “No!” Roland shouted. If she weren’t trampled by her own beast, the others were skittish enough to do the job. They were all wild, rearing, bucking, eyes rolling, as they fought against riders, as though the ground were littered with snakes.

  “It’s Cin, don’t kill him. Please, please, don’t kill him!” She screamed.

  Good God! The bear! Veri said he would come.

  At that moment, Cin barreled through the undergrowth, rose up to full height, his muzzle in the air. He sniffed, caught scent, releasing a fierce rumbling bray.

  “Hold fire, men!” Roland commanded. “Steady your mounts!” The sharp command stilled the ensemble for a moment, long enough that the riders gave ground to the bear, pulling back enough so fears eased to agitated side-steps.

  Veri tore free of her saddle, jumped to the ground. Her mount took off, straight back to home, as she ran through the tumult of skittish horses, off the trail, into the woods. Cin dropped to all fours, his nose twitched once before he charged straight at Veri.

  "Keep the horses free of him," she shouted. Not necessary. The horses were as eager to be away from Cin as the bear was anxious to get to Veri. "I will get him away from the path.” She promised, as she ran deeper into the forest.

  Roland dismounted, jerked his head for one man to take his reigns and another to catch Veri's horse. He directed the rest of the men to a near- by meadow, their original destination, before heading toward his wife.

  “Cin! Oh Cinnamon!” Crouched on the forest floor, the bear’s head cradled in her arms.

  Cin.

  Roland cursed the animal, cursed his own foolishness in not planning for this contingent. The animal could always find Veri, no matter where she was. But she could not have the pet at Oakland. Not yet. Definitely not yet.

  If her temper had been aroused earlier, it would certainly explode now, with her pet forbidden entrance to Oakland.

  “You said he would come.”

  The great beast, reduced to nothing more than a puppy dog despite its girth and fearsome teeth, licked Veri's tear dampened cheeks and nuzzled her neck.

  “You said I could not have him.” She refused to look at Roland.

  “It is for his safety and yours, Veri.”

  Like a puppet out of a box, her head popped up. "Safety? Cin is allowed to leave for his safety, but I am to stay?”

  “People find you unusual enough, let alone to have a bear named Cin.”

  "Unusual, is that what they call me now?" She rolled her eyes then focused on Cin. “There is naught wrong with his name.”

  Roland moved closer, hunkered down beside her. One finger at her chin. She jerked away.

  “Think Veri, say the word and think of other words equal in sound.”

  Tears magnified her eyes.

  “Sin, the breaking of God’s law,” Roland reconfirmed.

  "Of course.” She lay back upon the ground, beside her pet, as though the rich forest floor could ease her sorrow.

  "It is better this way." She curled around the bear. "Oh, Pet," she crooned, "you wouldn't want to be inside those walls anyway. It is too much like the place where I found you. Do you remember? You were all chained up, baited and snipped at. You will be happier away from Oakland."

  "It will not always be like this."

  "Will it not?" She hugged Cin. "Tell me Roland. Who is it I need to be, for this transformation? Before everything will change?"

  "Yourself."

  "When will I be allowed to be that?"

  "Now. As before."

  "God's teeth but you are ignorant!”

  Cin growled. Roland ignored the warning to lean over her. She had no choice but to look into his eyes, to see his serious intent. "Your warmth, your generosity, are always there. You remain calm when chaos surrounds you.” He hesitated, broke the contact, drawn to her hair, combed through the curls at her temple.

  His voice deepend, a husky whisper, intimate. "The only surprises come with these outbursts of fire.”

  "And you believe that once everything is calm, these outbursts will go away?"

  "Once we find the people responsible for the problems at Oakland."

  "Maybe I am the problem."

  "No, Veri," all of his fingers threaded through her hair, as he cupped her head in his hands. "The problems began before you arrived. But it was so close to that day that many fail to remember what came first.

  Do you remember, Veri? Do you remember what people were like back then, how they changed to what they are now?"

  “The dungeon? The hanging?”

  So long ago, when he’d barely donned his spurs and she no more than a child. His men found him unconscious in a hut and Veri beside him. They faulted her, caged her in the dungeon before hanging her in the courtyard. If not for a swift arrow to the rope, she would be dead. He’d almost been too late.

  Head bent to hers, he sighed. So much to be sorry for. “They thought you meant to kill me. They were wrong, so wrong. If not for you, I would be long dead. You saved me, gave me back my life. Saved my father. I owe you even beyond apology for the wrongs against you.

  “But that is not what I speak of. Do you remember Dori and Margaret and all the knights? They were good, happy people. They loved you.”

  “Aye, I remember.” Her words rode on soft honeyed breath.

  “Dori's sweetness is now bitter. Margaret's gentle charge has become hard. What has caused this darkness to roll over us?”

  “And you, Roland,” she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, “a knight full of dreams, yearning for goodness you don’t believe in anymore.”

  His thumb brushed tears she spilled.

  "I believe in you, Veri.” He kissed her cheek. “We can go back to the way we were. We can be friends."

  "You can never go back."

  “We can. Just the two of us.”

  “Not without the rest. We would have to change the rest.”

  Could they? Could they lighten Margaret's life with laughter? Rip the root of bitterness from Dori's soul? Lift the veil of bleakness from his own heart?

  Drawn to her warmth, he lent closer, swept her mouth with his, a butterfly kiss. She lifted her face for more, wrapped her arms about his neck, urged him closer, swallowing his groan.

  He fought it, a surface battle, a wisp of caution Don’t do this, Stop. Do not plague her with lust. Stop.

  She was his wife

  He’d nearly rent her in two.

  Shame and regret doused his hunger.

  Warm and soft, she pulled him back. “Please, please.” Her hands roamed over his back, along his arms, her kisses, light and teasing, brushed his neck.

  I don’t want to hurt you.

  “I know.” She whispered, as though she heard his thoughts.

  Her belief in him, her desire for him raged in his blood, dispersed reluctance. He lost any fight, even to gentle.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled her from the forest floor, crushed her to him, her fingers digging into his back, passions matched.

  With a nudge of her chin, his tongue teasing the soft line of her mouth, he taught her t
oo so he could taste her honeyed sweetness.

  A feminine moan matched his growl. They lay side by side, then onto his back, onto hers, until a heavy paw landed hard upon the two of them.

  Roland recovered first, enough to push Veri away from him, until confusion cleared, as Cin pushed his way between them.

  "You have a jealous pet there, Veri.” He fought hard for breath enough to stabilize emotions, find control.

  "You are sending him away."

  "Perhaps I shouldn't."

  "Shouldn't?" Wariness surged. "Why do you say that?”

  "Veri, a man’s hunger is greedy and rough. I do not want to hurt you, frighten you. Made a vow, came too close to breaking it entirely.”

  "What if I do not want to be safe?"

  He turned away. "I will come to you when I can tame my lust. Not until then."

  "Do all wives face this? Am I to be so different?"

  "Veri!" he broke free, stood, staring at her. Neither moved until he held out a hand.

  She ignored his offer. “Why are we out here? To taunt me? Freedom with guards.”

  “I am not guarding you from escape, but from danger."

  She rose, brushed at leaves clinging to her gown, her head bowed.

  "Danger is the reason for all the restrictions, Veri. You must trust me on this."

  In another bid for unity, he held out his hand.

  She looked at him, looked around them, the woods deserted by his men, privacy. She flung her hands in the air, vented frustration. "What do you want from me?”

  “There are questions we need answers to, from when I was away, when everything changed. You may have information." He led her through the woods, toward a meadow. “Over there,” he guided her a few steps so she could see his knights at the far end of a meadow, securing their mounts. “We will meet my most trusted men, speak of things better said beyond the castle walls."

  Veri headed toward the men.

  “Veri. Wait.”

  Although she kept her back to him, she did wait.

  “Veri.”

  She glanced up at him, quickly, then to the side. “Another command?”

  "No . . . or at least . . . " He held her arms, willed her attention. “You should know that others may condemn me as easily as they condemn you." He bent until their eyes were level. "It is important you allow me to explain any words said to upset you. Because that would be the only reason they would be said. To upset you. Not because of truth. Do you understand?”

  They stood, warily watching each other.

  “Perhaps you would care to join us here,” Sir Harold shouted out from the center of the meadow, “to solve whatever problems prompt solving.”

  All the men laughed.

  “Rude.” she brushed past Roland to the center of the circle.

  “Aye, they are rude,” Roland agreed under his breath before he ordered, “Jeffery, Robert and Godric, take watch.”

  The three obediently formed a triangle, their backs turned to the others so they faced the forest. Veri, Roland, Sir Harold, and Sir Albert stayed within the triangle.

  You can never go back, she'd told Roland. True, but by studying the past you could change your tomorrows.

  “We are aware of the whispers about you, Lady Veri.” Sir Albert took the lead. “We need to find the spreader of tales. Who murdered Lord Hugh? Who wants you to be labeled witch, and why? But first, perhaps you could explain why Lady Hannah believes you were guilty of adultery.”

  “We need to know who wishes to harm you and the Montgomery name.” Sir Harold amended bluntly.

  Veri nodded, sank down to the ground and patted the spot beside her for Cin. The great bear lumbered over and plopped down. “Where to begin?” She sighed. "We need to look further back, to when Sir Reynold died."

  "Sir Reynold? Captain of the castle garrison?"

  "Yes," Veri focused on Cin, as the memory of those times surfaced. “Your father did not believe his death an accident."

  "How did he die?"

  "A fateful fall on his sword."

  Roland snorted, amid grunts and curses from the other men. "Father was right on that count," he agreed, "Sir Reynold was too good for that. He was the one who taught me how to use a sword, and do so safely."

  Harold leaned in closer. "Is that when Lady Margaret's son became the captain of the garrison?"

  "Lady Margaret's son?" Veri shook her head, confused. "Do you mean Timothy?"

  "Roger. Did he take Reynold's place?"

  "No, if I remember correctly, Roger was but ten and nine years, he would have been too young. It was Sir Swidhelm."

  Roland looked to his men. They all shook their heads. "That doesn't make sense, Veri."

  "I don't know the whole of it Roland, but I can say your father was not happy either, but felt he had no choice. The others, who might have taken that place, chose to leave." She frowned, as she fought to pull back the memory. "Sir Swidhelm changed the way things were done. Your father was not at ease, as he had been. I am sorry, but that's the best I can remember."

  "You were only a child, Veri. Go on about Derek."

  "I don't know if I can."

  "Try."

  For so many years, she had been unable to defend herself against the accusations that even now, she was hard pressed to do so. She looked to Roland. "It was because of Lord Hugh's discomfort with his guards, that he thought it best I sleep in a secret place not in my quarters."

  "You had been in my old chamber?"

  "Yes," she looked down, unsure how to go further. "At least, that is where people thought I slept." Roland hunkered down beside her, but if he meant to comfort her, he had it wrong. "It's about the passage."

  "The one in my father's room?"

  "It connects with . . . "

  "My old rooms? He had you take that passage, did he?"

  "Yes. The guards were stationed outside of my rooms, but I would be in the same chamber I sleep in now."

  Roland sat back, stunned.

  "That is why I couldn't tell anyone that it wasn't me. Though, if I'd known the danger to Derek . . ."

  Distracted, Roland brushed aside her guilt. "That would have changed nothing, Veri."

  "I promised your father that I would not tell anyone, not the guards, the knights, not even your sisters. It was a passage only the Montgomery men knew of."

  "Do you know why, Veri?"

  "Stupid men." She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

  "Yes, you have proved the theory wrong. The idea is that only the men need know about that passage, in order to protect the ladies, but the ladies could not be trusted to keep quiet about such things."

  "I have not been silent today.”

  "You were when others shouted adultery at you, and when it meant I would claim you as wife." He stood silent, watched her, but she couldn't answer to that.

  If she pulled him aside that night, would he have listened? Could she have stopped that horrible moment when their bodies became one? No. She was certain of that. There had been too much hatred in him for any chance of listening.

  As he cupped her head, his thumbs stroked her cheeks. There were no tears to wipe away.

  "That was exceptionally brave of you.” He whispered, and she remembered his kiss.

  And the way he pulled free from it.

  Veri broke away. "I had no choice." Which was true, she hadn't.

  "So who do you think was in your room when Hannah walked in?"

  She shook her head, "It could have been anyone. Anyone, that is, who knew I was not there."

  "Hannah?"

  No one said anything.

  "It could have been, but I don't know. I don't know if Hannah could make something up like that. But Derek did not even consider getting her out of the castle."

  "He did think to get others out?"

  "Yes. That was why he got caught. He tried to return to the castle to get Dori. He had gone back to rescue her from any danger."

  "That is not the action of an adulterer." Rolan
d confirmed.

  "And died for his loyalty." Harold added.

  "Lady Veri," Sir Albert broke in, his face steady but grim. "There is one question not so easily explained. One that has far more importance. It is the question of Lord Hugh's murder." All eyes turned to her, steady, focused. All eyes, but Roland's. He turned away, allowed the others to stand as judge and jury.

  Sir Albert continued. “We need to know how you drank of the same poison as Lord Hugh, but did not die.”

  CHAPTER 8 ~ POISON

  Veri nodded at Sir Albert. “How someone poisoned Lord Hugh is probably the easiest of all the questions to answer.”

  “Easy to answer, that you could drink of poison and not die?”

  "It was not that Lord Hugh drank such a hearty draught, and I merely sipped.”

  Roland’s head snapped up. Of course, he would think he already had his answers. How wrong he had been.

  Eyes closed, she pictured the night in question. The reality of it, the misery, and her own fateful faults. If she had been more aware, less trusting, Roland's father would still be alive.

  “Did they tell you we had been dancing?” She asked, and looked to Roland. “Your father was in fit shape. The best he’d been since his illness. The dancing would tire him, but not overmuch.” Her eyes shifted away from his fierce gaze to focus on her fingers, as they rubbed at the dirt gained from her mount’s reins. A breeze, damp and cool, rustled her tawny mane.

  She drew in a deep breath of spring, and realized the wilderness of the place gave her strength. Roland reached for her, but she was not ready for his touch. Abruptly she stood, felt Cinnamon rise to join her. “No Cinnamon, stay where you are.” She ordered and walked away, to stand alone, to embrace the silken breeze.

  “What is it, Veri?” Roland asked.

  “He was stronger than I imagined he would be.” She drew in a deep breath, as though drawing in the words, “And I failed him.” She admitted aloud for the first time. “It was my fault.” She condemned herself with vocal force. “I should have seen! Should have spoken sooner.” A tear rolled down her cheek, another matched it, as she lowered her head.

  She sensed Roland’s approach, felt him reach out to her as sure as a touch. Such a powerful man, such potent, tangible strength, that she doubted he’d ever surprise anyone with stealth.