Should he push her? Why did he want to ease the hurts she’d endured, to let her know not all men behaved thus? She had no reason to trust him—he had carried her away. “You have never met such a man?”
“No,” she whispered, refusing to look at him.
Löwe lumbered to his feet, waddled over to her and laid his muzzle on her lap.
“He likes you,” Dieter exclaimed, wishing he could lay his head on her tempting thighs and gaze up at her as his dog did. He had a curious yearning for that elegant hand to be stroking and petting him.
Long, Hot Summer
Until she’d left home to become a lady-in-waiting, Blythe had shared a chamber with Ragna. The one at Kirkthwaite was large, spacious and well furnished, the Shelfhoc chamber slightly smaller. At King Henry’s court, she’d shared cramped quarters with three other girls. Her chamber in the Black Knight’s home could only be described as tastefully opulent. It was clear he was a wealthy man, and she wondered why he would risk it all by kidnapping the empress.
As the long, hot summer dragged on without any sign of her release, she found it increasingly difficult to remain impervious to the Black Knight’s charms. For charming he was, always solicitous of her well-being and comfort.
Despite the restrictions and difficulties imposed upon Köln by the blockade of the Rhine, he took her on more than one occasion to parts of the ancient city founded by the Romans. A maidservant always accompanied them in the stylish carriage he owned. He showed her sections of the Roman city wall and water system, which formerly brought fresh spring water to the ancient city from the Eifel region.
“The name Köln comes from the Roman empress, Agrippina,” he explained. “The wife of the Emperor Claudius was born on the banks of the Rhine and elevated her "Colonia" to the status of a city in the Fiftieth Year of Our Lord. The Roman road network is still reflected this very day in the layout of the streets.”
She tried to remain aloof, though she found the old city fascinating and his company exhilarating. His deep, slightly accented voice soothed her. The light touch of his hand on her back as he assisted her into the carriage caused a tingle that filled her with previously unknown feelings. As she descended, his gentle support of her elbow sent desire swirling in private places. His clean, masculine scent made her salivate. She adopted a habit of taking deep breaths, claiming a desire for fresh air in her lungs.
However, he had taken her as his prisoner against her will and she was still afraid he intended to sell her. She did not want to dwell on who might want to buy her and for what purpose. Surely, the Black Knight was not a man to commit such a crime? To be safe, she reasoned if she made herself unattractive she would not be easy to sell. She should perhaps suggest her family might pay a ransom. Her parents must be frantically worried and would pay willingly. But what amount would he demand?
She kept her face sullen. “It’s interesting, thank you for showing me,” she told him without enthusiasm when they returned home.
* * *
Determined for reasons beyond his comprehension to draw Blythe out of her self-imposed ugliness of face and demeanor, Dieter took her on frequent excursions. It had become an obsession. She was an intelligent woman who would be interested in knowing how the Romans brought Christianity to Köln, and how the city very soon became the seat of a bishopric. “In the year of our Lord Seven Hundred and Eighty-Five, Charlemagne himself founded the Archbishopric of Köln and bestowed secular powers upon the church dignitaries. The Archbishop of Köln became one of the most powerful feudal lords in the Holy Roman Empire.”
She inhaled deeply and yawned. “Hmm.”
He was disappointed in her coolness. He was drawn to this woman, had been since their first encounter, but she evidently did not feel the same towards him. It was a blow to his male ego. To her he was simply an unwelcome guide, whereas he longed to strip off her clothes and make love to her on the floor of the carriage. Her female fragrance filled his nostrils, even when he wasn’t with her. She recoiled whenever he touched her, when all he intended was to help her in and out of the carriage. Despite her aloofness, or perhaps because of it, he could not resist increasing the pressure of his hand on her back. He longed to look into those bewitching hazel eyes, but she always avoided his gaze. Having to conceal his seemingly constant arousal from her and the maidservant was maddening.
He often watched from the upstairs window as she enjoyed his garden, compelled to spy on her. Then he saw the real Blythe. When she closed her eyes and bent to inhale the fragrance of a flower, his senses reeled. When she beamed a bright smile on his gardener it was all he could do not to run down the stairs and kiss her until she cried for mercy.
She seemed to have no feelings for him. He was drawn to her like a moth to a candle’s flame, but didn’t want his heart burnt to cinders again. His marital experience had left him scarred in more ways than one. His captive lavished her attention on his hounds, not on him. He worried they loved her more. They too had fallen under the spell of this enigmatic woman.
Reluctant to alarm her with the progress of plans afoot to rid Köln of the emperor once and for all, he did not confide the extent of his involvement in the preparations. He spent a lot of time in clandestine meetings with other supporters of Duke Lothair, having apparently regained their trust after several difficult sessions following the botched kidnapping. Interestingly, none of his comrades ever mentioned Blythe FitzRam.
He resolved to concentrate on the military campaign, deciding he may as well go ahead with his plan to return her to her family.
* * *
Blythe was aware her abductor hid his actions and political views from her and suspected his involvement in plots against the emperor. Was it that he didn’t trust her? Or was she simply no threat to him, a non-entity he would soon be rid of? His courteous behavior seemed to belie that possibility.
Her German improved thanks to her interactions with the servants and other members of the household, but she steadfastly refused to speak German to him, feigning incomprehension. If he judged her dim-witted, it would lower her value.
The weather cooled as autumn stole over the land. She saw her Black Knight less frequently. When she did, he was tense, preoccupied. She sensed he was involved in some sort of imminent military action, and feared for his safety, but could not tell him of her feelings. She convinced herself it was only fear of what would become of her if aught untoward befell him.
Assassin
Preoccupied with plotting ways to make Blythe smile more often, Dieter lay on his bed for hours, still fully clothed. He’d tied himself in knots trying to remove the pout from her face during their latest tour of the city—all to no avail.
He sat up abruptly at the faint sound of breaking glass. Something was amiss.
He rose quickly, retrieved his sword from its scabbard atop the oak chest and entered the dark hallway, holding aloft the candle from his bedside. He paused for a few moments, listening. The dogs weren’t barking, so he assumed a servant had broken some fragile object, though why anyone would be about at this time of night…
He decided to descend the two flights of stairs to the lower floor, just to make sure all was well. He heard nothing, except the creak of the wooden stairs as he went.
Once on the ground floor, he stood by the rear door that led on to the garden, curious when the flame flickered from an apparent draft. The yawning dogs emerged from the front entryway, where they usually slept. He patted each one in turn, reassured them all was well and sent them back to the front of the house.
Satisfied nothing was amiss, he turned to put a foot on the bottom stair. A chill raced across his nape when, without warning, the door was flung open. An attacker rushed in and leapt onto his back. Whirling, he dropped the candle, but not before a glint of metal showed his assailant held a dagger. He tried to raise his sword to defend himself, but the intruder’s blade slashed his thigh.
Refusing to yield to the burning pain, he yelled for the dogs, shoving the masked
man backwards as hard as he could. The would-be assassin loosened his hold and fled at the sound of Vormund’s frenzied barking.
The growling hovawart flew past Dieter like a blur in pursuit, the other dogs not far behind. Dieter pressed a hand over the wound to stem the flow of blood and limped after them into the dark garden, cursing his carelessness. Roused by the pandemonium, his valet and several other servants swarmed out of the house, most in night attire.
Vormund clamped his jaws on the attacker’s arm before he could make his escape over the high garden wall.
* * *
Blythe had finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning, weary of the uncertainty of her situation, and unsettled by the increasingly strong feelings of yearning her Black Knight evoked. They’d toured the city again during the day, and she’d found it difficult to maintain her sulky demeanor. He was charming and clearly doing his best to make her smile. She couldn’t get the memory of his naked beauty at the lake out of her thoughts. The melody of the song he’d been singing played over and over in her head, though she understood only some of the words.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, awakened by frenzied barking. Angry voices and urgent shouts were coming from the garden. Nervously, she rose and approached the window. The flames of torches danced along the pathways as shadowed figures ran here and there. Soon, they congregated in one corner under the apple tree. Peering to see what was happening, she caught sight of Vormund. The dog had sunk his teeth into the arm of a man trying to scale the high wall of the garden. He cried out in pain as the dog wrestled him to the ground. Several of the servants surrounded him, two of them holding back Löwe, their hands gripping the dog’s studded collar. Then she saw her Black Knight limping towards the group, sword drawn. Fear gripped her heart. Had he been injured? At a word from him, the hovawart let the man go. The servants dragged the intruder from the garden.
Blythe threw a bed robe over her nightgown and hastened downstairs, meeting her captor as he limped in the doorway, Schnell at his side. He looked haggard. His bloodied hand was pressed to his thigh. “Stay in your chamber, Blythe. There may still be intruders at large. Don’t be afraid. They won’t re-enter the house.”
She ought to object to his use of her given name, but her instinct was to gather him in her arms, soothe away the hurt he had suffered. “What has happened? Who was that man?”
He braced himself against the newel of the banister and handed his sword to Bernhardt. He hesitated, considering his words. “It seems I have upset someone. They tried to kill me.”
She clasped her hands to her mouth. “Kill you? Who?” She moved towards him. “You’ve been cut.”
He held up his hand to reassure her. “It’s a flesh wound. Nothing more. I’ve suffered worse.”
The amount of blood seeping into his leggings belied his assertion. Her belly clenched at the thought of this beautiful man being wounded or scarred in any way.
Anna came rushing with linens and bandages and Bernhardt assisted their master to his chamber. Blythe followed up the stairs, unsure as to whether it was appropriate to do so. She longed to help him, to make sure his wound was properly tended, though she had to admit Anna was a more capable healer than she would ever be. At the door of his chamber she hesitated, watching nervously as the valet helped him onto the bed. “Will you be well, Black Knight?”
He raked his hair off his face. “Ja, Blythe. I will be well. Anna will tend me. I know you are worried. They were probably the emperor’s men. The others will be long gone by now, but we have one of them, thanks to Vormund.”
He smiled, but it was a weary smile. “I told you he was a good watchdog. He probably saved my life tonight. Take Schnell with you. You will be safe.”
But will you? she fretted as she hurried to her chamber, the greyhound by her side.
The dog flopped down across the threshold and silence gradually descended once more on the house. The danger had passed, yet she lay awake for hours, her innards in knots. She couldn’t bear to think of what might happen to the prisoner they’d taken. On the other hand, she wanted to personally tear him limb from limb for harming her Black Knight.
Andernach
To Blythe’s great relief, Dieter’s wound healed quickly. The house became an armed camp. No one spoke of the man who had been captured in the garden, and she was afraid to ask.
One day in October, her captor took her hand as they dined together. The stirrings of desire his touch never failed to ignite flared again. “Lady Blythe, on the morrow I’ll be joining my comrades in an attack against Heinrich’s army.”
She’d half-suspected some action was brewing, but her heart plummeted. Should she beg him not to go? He would think she had lost her wits. “Why must men always fight and kill each other?”
“Liebling,” he replied softly, his eyes caressing her quivering lips, “Köln must be freed from the unjust domination of the emperor. As for us Saxons, well, the conflict has smoldered since the Great Saxon Revolt many, many years ago.”
Liebling? He keeps calling me Liebling! Doesn’t that mean darling? Perhaps I’m mistaken, and it means something else.
He was still explaining, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Heinrich has made attempts to confiscate Saxon counties as fiefs but has always met with obstinate resistance. On the morrow, we travel nine miles to Andernach to confront him on the plain.”
Blythe’s emotions were in turmoil. Nine miles! The enemy was a mere nine miles away. She longed to throw her arms around him, beg him not to go, tell him she loved him.
Love him? Do I love him?
He didn’t care about her. She was his prisoner.
Still, she wished his thumb was caressing another part of her body instead of her hand. If she looked up at him, he would see the wanton desire in her eyes. “Black Knight, I wish you Gottes segen on the morrow. Godspeed.”
His eyes widened. He placed his palm against her face. A tear trickled unbidden down her cheek and he wiped it away. “If I don’t return from Andernach, be reassured I’ve sent messengers to your family in England. I’m sure they’ll come for you. You’re too precious to lose.”
Her heart fluttered wildly. She could barely speak as relief and foreboding swept over her at the same time. “Not return? My family? You don’t intend to sell me? My parents know I’m here?”
He let go of her hand and straightened, a scowl on his face. “Sell you? Is that what you think of me? If your parents don’t yet know your whereabouts, I’m confident they soon will.”
She did not know what to say, stung by the anger in his voice. “I’m sorry; I was afraid. I didn’t know what you intended to do with me.”
“That makes two of us,” he blurted out, shaking his head. He rose from the table, clicked his heels together and bowed. “I’ll be gone before you rise, so I bid you auf Weidersehen now.”
She stood to face him, tears flowing freely. “Black Knight, on the morrow, you’ll leave for war.”
He saw the tears, drew her into an embrace, brushed his lips on hers and breathed, “I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“Dieter,” she whispered. “Dieter.” She closed her eyes and allowed his coaxing tongue entry.
He braced his legs, cupped her bottom and pressed her body gently against him. She felt his desire and thought of what her mother had said about a man and woman joining their bodies. She wanted to crawl all over him, to possess him, to see him naked.
“Blythe, mein Schatz, you’re so beautiful. I don’t want to leave you, but I must.”
He pulled away and she felt cast adrift, frantically trying to remember what mein Schatz meant. Was she his cat? How could he think her beautiful when she had done her best to present an ugly countenance?
He clicked his heels together again, bowed stiffly, kissed her hand and left.
* * *
For the third time, the combatants in the conflict between the Holy Roman Emperor and the city of Köln faced each other, this time on the plain of Andernach.
Dieter wished he could keep his mind on the business at hand. All he could think of was the bereft look on Blythe’s face when he had left her. He had called her his sweetheart. Good thing she did not understand much German, though sometimes he wondered—
Aroused by the sound of his name on her lips, he had departed quickly or he would have torn the clothes from her body and made love to her on the table. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Blythe Lacey FitzRam, but she could never love him. He had frightened her. She thought he was going to sell her. “Mein Gott, she would think me capable of that?”
Her response to his kiss was simply relief at discovering he’d contacted her parents.
His comrade Magnus rode up beside him and brought his attention back to the mighty host facing them. “What do you think of our chances, Dieter?”
The dread roiling in his stomach as he surveyed the enemy ranks was a distraction from his preoccupation with Blythe. “Heinrich has a very strong force, infantry as well as cavalry. Spies tell us he has recruited Franconians, Alemannians, and Bavarians, as well as knights from Burgundy. If he stays true to form, he’ll send his dukes to fight the battle and await the outcome of the conflict at a distance. We number far fewer but cunning and bravery may win the day for us.”
Would he see Blythe again? Only a fool would leave without telling her of his true feelings.
Magnus looked to his left and frowned. Cavalry were galloping towards Heinrich’s army. “A group of our troops is advancing?”
Dieter rose up in the stirrups to get a better view. “Archbishop Frederick has instructed Duke Henry of Lorraine to rush against their flank in an effort to throw the enemy off balance.”
The Black Knight’s Captive Page 7
