The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles)

by Julia Byrne

  She didn’t need any experience with men to know he meant something that was likely to render her completely witless. She could only hope that Martin and Herleve would put the vivid color in her face down to the warmth of the kitchen fire.

  To her relief, no-one seemed to notice. Martin was placing more wood on the flames as they entered, but straightened to greet Hugh. When they were seated Herleve handed out mugs of ale.

  “How goes your task at the castle?” she enquired, sitting down beside her husband.

  “Slowly.” Hugh downed several mouthfuls of ale, reached out, and folded Annith’s hand in his. He squeezed gently, possibly in apology for addling her wits, Annith thought. But she wouldn’t count on it.

  “It seems I must hear the smallest detail of every grievance,” he went on. “’Tis only natural, I suppose. Father Robert has been helping me.” He sent Annith a sidelong glance. “I’ve asked him to meet us at the castle in the morning.”

  “What!” She immediately felt panicked. “Why do we need Father Robert?”

  He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady. “We need him to marry us before I take you to Worcester tomorrow.” And now it was the warrior speaking. “Once you’re my wife, no one will have the authority to take you away.”

  The thought of anyone even trying to take her away was terrifying, but she was still torn, longing to give in to him, afraid it would be wrong. Hugh must have seen the conflict in her eyes, for he turned her fully toward him and grasped both her hands.

  “Give me the right to protect you,” he demanded, tender and urgent at once. “Who will gainsay us once the deed is done? You said it yourself. I’m a baron, not some landless squire who can’t support you. Marry me, Annith!”

  She looked in appeal to Martin and Herleve.

  “If you were my daughter, I’d be fetching Father Robert this instant to hear your vows, before his lordship changes his mind,” Herleve said.

  Hugh grinned, but Martin gave his wife a stern look. “Let the girl make up her own mind,” he said, and, turning to Hugh, “Mayhap if Annith knows more about you, my lord. You told me you have lands. Where? And what of your family? A father would ask these questions, but she has none here.”

  “A good point,” Hugh conceded. He smiled wryly at Annith. “I’ve been thinking of other matters, but Martin is right. Family?” He shrugged. “’Tis only myself now. I’ve recently inherited my father’s baronage and all his lands. The de Verneys hold two castles on the Welsh border and have done so since the Conquest, but these days our principal home is a manor at Buckland in Herefordshire.” He cocked a quizzical brow. “Does that help?”

  But with an apologetic smile for Martin, Annith shook her head. “To a father, mayhap, but I need to remember who I am.”

  “I know,” he said, intent again. “And I think your memory will return in time, but time is the one thing we may not have.”

  She drew in a breath. “You think people are searching for me.”

  “’Tis a certainty. We need to find out who you are before they find you. That’s why we’re going to Worcester. I’ll leave you at the castle with the Sheriff and his wife. I know them well. You’ll be safe there while I visit the priory.”

  “There are convents the length and breadth of the country,” Martin pointed out. “Why Worcester in particular?”

  “Annith knew she had to go north from the road where she encountered those boys.” Hugh released her hands and began to draw an imaginary map on the table. “Worcester—” he plunked down an empty mug “—is the next big town in that direction, and—” another mug joined the first “—there’s a priory close by. If Annith wasn’t fleeing from the cloister, she may have been seeking its protection. Without knowing where she came from, ’tis the logical place to start.”

  “If I was going to the priory, wouldn’t they look there first?” she ventured.

  Hugh nodded. “Indeed, but you’ve been here several days now. They would have overtaken you long ago, using the roads which you avoided. And not finding you, may have left. Although if ’twas me, I’d leave a watch on the place.”

  “In that case, wouldn’t Annith be safer here?” Herleve asked anxiously.

  “I won’t risk it,” Hugh said. “Once they know she’s not at the priory or any other likely cloister, they’ll start asking in the towns. And how many folk here have seen your ‘cousin’ in church and remarked on her recent arrival, and her beauty?”

  “Several,” Martin said glumly. “Gossips, one and all. And the less we said, the more they wanted to know. I don’t know how many lies I told.”

  “All for a good cause,” Hugh said, smiling. “But wait until this is done before asking for absolution, because you’ll need another ready lie in case anyone comes to your door asking to see your cousin.”

  Martin shrugged. “The girl went looking for work at the local manors.”

  Hugh grinned. “That should keep them chasing their tails for another day.”

  Annith looked from one to the other. She felt as if her head was spinning slightly. Hugh thought her beautiful? She suddenly realized that she didn’t know what she looked like. Why hadn’t she thought to ask for some polished metal with which to study her reflection? Mayhap she would have recognized herself.

  That absurd thought gave rise to a more important one.

  “I’ll have to go to the priory with you,” she said. “Otherwise how will they know me? Or not.”

  Hugh tilted his head, studying her. “I’ll describe you to them.”

  When she looked doubtful, he smiled. “That won’t be a hardship, little maid. Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror?”

  “Not in the cloister,” she retorted. Which probably explained why looking at her reflection hadn’t occurred to her. She frowned as a vague memory drifted through her mind. “But recently— There was a room—” Her throat constricted without warning; her stomach lurched.

  “’Tis all right,” Hugh said swiftly, obviously realizing what was happening and turning to face her. He wrapped his fingers around her arms and held her steady. “No one can hurt you now. Try to remember. Was anyone in the room with you? A father? Mother? Guardian?”

  She gave a choked cry as the last word left his lips. Sheer desperation gave her the strength to wrench free of his grip. She leapt to her feet, her skin turning hot and clammy as sickness rose in her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth and ran to the yard door. Barely aware that Hugh was also on his feet, she hauled it open and fled into the night.

  Three steps away from the door she braced a hand on the wall beside her and fought the urge to be violently ill. The effort had her shaking so badly she almost fell to her knees, but then Hugh was there, his arm about her waist, steadying her against him.

  “Breathe,” he commanded. “Slow and deep.”

  Shuddering, she obeyed. The chill of the night air helped. Slowly she felt her stomach settle. But now tears welled in her eyes and this time she couldn’t fight them. Too many days of fear and confusion, too many nights of fearful dreams, overwhelmed her small defenses. She turned in his arms, pressed her face to his tunic, and wept.

  He didn’t speak, just held her until she fell quiet. Then he bent his head to hers and she felt him touch his lips to her brow.

  “Forgive me,” he said very low. “I knew you were afraid, but not the extent of it. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

  “I have to remember some time,” she said somewhat huskily. “I need to remember.”

  “I know, but not tonight. You need to rest for tomorrow.”

  How patient he was, she thought wearily. How warm and strong. The heat of his body was slowly banishing the chills that brushed her flesh. Here, in his embrace, she felt safe, no matter what nightmare was to come.

  “You’ll still take me with you?” she asked.

  “Aye, but you can’t ride around the countryside with me for days on end if we’re not married.”

  She shook her head against him. “If on
ly I could be sure.”

  “Of what?”

  “That you are not doing this only for me. That if I marry you, you will not one day regret it.”

  He drew back abruptly and tipped her face up to his. “Is that what you think?”

  He stared at her for an instant before his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Annith wondered what was going on behind that shrewd gaze. With the perversity of such things, her mind was now clear. If Hugh wanted her, she would marry him. It no longer mattered that she might already be betrothed. She could never give herself to another man anyway. The cloister would be preferable.

  She recalled the words she had uttered earlier, that she would don a nun’s robe if she was already married. Such unthinking words, such unawareness of the feelings behind them. And yet, somehow she had known, had already acknowledged the secret she held deep in her heart. She didn’t need to know who she was, she realized now. She knew what she was: a girl on the cusp of womanhood, waiting to give herself to the man she loved.

  “I’m a fool,” he said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Will it convince you if I say I’ve been thinking of marriage for several months? I’m the last of my line and wish it to continue. Also, my home has not had a mistress for nigh on twenty years and is in dire need of one.”

  He raised his hand and gently brushed the last traces of tears from her cheeks. “Will you be that mistress, Annith?”

  “I will,” she whispered. And with her acceptance, a sense of calm came over her. At least she could be useful to him, instead of taking his protection and giving nothing back. And she would love him all the days of her life and beyond.

  He let out a long breath, as if he’d been engaged in a conflict that was finally ended. “I swear I’ve taken better defended keeps in less time,” he muttered, and though there was wry humor in the words, something powerful glittered in his eyes. In the light from the kitchen doorway she could see it clearly. Triumph, resolve, and something…something barely controlled.

  Before she could wonder at the expression, he bent and lifted her into his arms as if she was made of fragile crystal and carried her into the house.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They were married before the morning sun had gathered up the last tendrils of mist drifting above the fields. A perfect day for a wedding, Hugh thought, except that no sunlight penetrated the cold stone walls of the little chapel within the bailey.

  He stifled a pang of guilt as he glanced down at Annith, who stood beside him at the altar rail. She should be married in sunlight, but this small bare chapel better served his purpose. The only witnesses, apart from Father Robert, were Martin and Herleve. He didn’t want to give anyone searching for Annith forewarning of their marriage until he knew who and what he was dealing with.

  Explaining that to Father Robert had not been easy. Initially the priest had been reluctant to marry them in such haste and secrecy. Only Annith’s assurance that she was a willing participant had convinced him. But it was debatable now as to who was more nervous: the bride or the priest.

  As Father Robert began to recite the marriage vows, Hugh took Annith’s hand in a warm clasp. He could feel her trembling slightly as he repeated his vows, his voice firm, his gaze holding hers. Her face appeared pale, framed as it was by the hood of the cloak he had found for her. Was she still afraid she might be betraying a previous vow she had made to another man? That would mean a lot to her, but he couldn’t let her doubts stand in his way. He had no qualms at all; his only focus at this moment was to gain the right to protect her. Everything else could be sorted out later.

  Then it was Annith’s turn to repeat the words that would bind them for life. Her voice was very soft, but steady. She may have had doubts, but her beautiful eyes gazed into his as she promised to honor and obey him. Hugh tightened his fingers around hers, trying to convey understanding, comfort, even warmth to counteract the chill of this bare little place. The amount of trust she was placing in him was enormous. Not only was she trusting in his belief that she wasn’t already married; physically, emotionally, legally, she was giving herself to a man she barely knew. At a time when she didn’t even know herself. No wonder she was trembling.

  He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that he would honor his vow to cherish her for the rest of his life. But then Father Robert was asking for the marriage ring, and he drew in a deep, controlling breath as he produced the ring that had belonged to his father. Made of gold, heavily chased, the wide band was far too big for Annith’s small hand, but it would do until he bought her something more fitting. She glanced at it, before looking up at him as he pushed the heavy jewel onto her finger. He held it there as Father Robert pronounced them man and wife, then he bent and kissed her gently on the lips.

  They knelt together for the final blessing, and then he was helping Annith to her feet and turning toward Martin and Herleve.

  His earlier doubts apparently put to rest, Father Robert smiled benignly as Herleve brushed away sentimental tears.

  Seeing them, Annith smiled for the first time that morning. “Oh, Herleve,” she said, and with a quick glance up at him, withdrew her hand from his and embraced the older woman.

  “Don’t mind me,” he heard Herleve say, as Martin caught his attention.

  “What is it?” he asked quietly as they moved several paces away to speak privately. “Has someone been asking about Annith already, at this hour?”

  “Nay,” Martin said in the same low tone. “But during the service just now something occurred to me.”

  “What?”

  “My lord—” Martin seemed to brace himself. “Do you intend this marriage to stand?”

  Hugh’s brows snapped together. “Of course I do. What the devil brought on that question?”

  “I mean no offence,” Martin assured him hurriedly. “But how binding is such a union when Annith has married you under a name not her own? What if she was already betrothed? She told us last night, after you left, of her doubts on that score.”

  “Ah.” Hugh’s frown cleared. “She married me in good faith as Annith, so the marriage is binding as far as that goes. She has been her own proxy, if you will. As for a former betrothal, I doubt she would have spoken any such vow if the match was distasteful to her. She may be gentle, but she’s not weak. ’Tis the most likely reason she fled, rather than capitulate.”

  Martin pursed his lips as he considered. “Aye, that makes sense.”

  “Good. And praise God you didn’t leap up in the middle of the service and voice those doubts. ’Twas difficult enough explaining matters to Father Robert without giving him the entire story.”

  Martin laughed and they returned to the others. Hugh took heart at the way Annith turned to him immediately. He held out his hand and, for the first time, she placed her hand in his without hesitation.

  “Let’s make our farewells in the sunshine,” he said, and gesturing to Father Robert to lead the way, they walked out to the bailey where his men were waiting with the horses.

  * * *

  The small procession left a few minutes later, Hugh in the lead on his black destrier with Annith beside him on a rangy gray mare. The animal wasn’t the best-looking horse in the castle stable, but she was rock-steady. Six men-at-arms, riding at a discreet distance, brought up the rear, followed by two pack horses on leading reins.

  As the road curved away from the town, and Herleve and Martin, still waving, vanished from sight, Hugh cast an alert glance at Annith. He was keeping the pace to a walk, and staying within touching distance, until she looked more at ease in the saddle. He would need to react instantly if Annith couldn’t control her horse, although it seemed that somewhere along the way, she’d been taught to ride.

  “Riding must be one of those skills that, once learned in childhood, is not forgotten,” she remarked, echoing his thoughts.

  He smiled at her. “Indeed, but we don’t know when you were last on a horse, so tell me if you need to rest.”
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br />   “I will,” she said, glancing about her at the countryside. Men out early to plough in the stalks left after the summer harvest caught her eye, before she was diverted by a flock of birds flying in perfect formation above them. A smile lit her face as she watched them out of sight.

  Being out in the open was still new to her, he realized. How long had she been locked away in her cloister? It could have been years, and yet she’d had the courage to face the outside world, alone, on foot, and without the means to buy food or shelter. To escape…what?

  Never again, he swore silently, putting the question aside for the moment. Never again would she be forced to such desperate measures. She was his wife; he would protect her for the rest of their lives.

  His wife.

  Suddenly he was shaken by a violent urge to sweep Annith out of her saddle and hold her close against his heart. To kiss that sweet mouth until she was soft and yielding in his arms, until she knew nothing except the insistent beat of desire. Tonight, he promised himself. Tonight he would do all that and more.

  And if he didn’t stop thinking further ahead than the day, he was going to have a damned uncomfortable ride to Worcester. He shifted cautiously in his saddle.

  “Is something amiss, my lord?” she asked with such innocence he had to laugh.

  “Nay,” he said. “I was just thinking that our wedding must have been nothing like a lady would expect, and for that I ask your pardon. You’re still in the gown you borrowed from Herleve, and I’m dressed for battle, barring the armor.”

  “It matters not,” she said, apparently unconcerned by their lack of wedding finery. He soon discovered why when she sent him an uncertain glance. “Tell me… What will happen when we reach Worcester?”

  “Are you worried, sweeting?” He reached out and laid his hand briefly over hers. “There’s no need. The priory is only a mile or so beyond the town. I won’t leave you for long.”