The Conqueror (Hot Knights)

by Gillgannon, Mary

Edeva left him, feeling irritated. He treated her as if she was one of the servants. But then, was it not the lot of women to serve men? She was doing no more than what her mother had done when they had guests.

  * * *

  “That’s the Saxon thegn’s daughter?” Iovin of Masey asked as Edeva left the hall

  Jobert nodded. “Without her aid, I could not have accomplished so much in the few weeks since we arrived. She is very capable, and she speaks Norman French quite well.”

  “Have you thought of wedding with her?”

  The idea startled Jobert. Had he not vowed that if he could not have Damaris, he would take no other wife?

  “After all, William advised his earls to secure their lands by proper, legal methods. He wants no quibble with the Church about the righteousness of his conquest,” Iovin pointed out. “It seems to me that wedding the old thegn’s daughter would be the ideal means of securing the property—Oxbury, I believe it is called in Saxon?”

  Jobert nodded slowly.

  The Norman knight saw his befuddled expression and grinned. “I know an uncultured Saxon may not be what you’d hoped for in a wife, but consider it a means to an end. Once you have gained your fortune, you can return to Normandy and take a proper lady to wife. The Bastard need never know of it!” Iovin threw back his head and laughed.

  “Lady Edeva is not uncultured,” Jobert said tightly. “Indeed, her skills in running a household rival those of any woman I’ve known. Her needlework is extraordinary, her ability to calculate the amount of food—”

  “Hear, hear,” Iovin interrupted, still laughing. “I meant no offense, Brevrienne. Obviously, you find no fault with the wench. If you’re that fond of her, I would not delay in asking William for her hand. You must have his permission before you wed her. Although he advised his captains to secure their new estates by any legal means, he is wary of men who show too great a relish for seizing power. He fears the troubles his family has had in Normandy may follow him here to England. He wants his barons to be strong, but not overly independent.”

  Jobert stared unseeingly at the table in front of him. If he wed Edeva, he might better be able to control her. From what he knew of her, she was not the sort to betray her husband, even if she had married the man less than willingly.

  Besides, if he wed her, he would have the right to bed her anytime he wanted.

  “How would you suggest that I go about petitioning the king?” Jobert asked.

  “I have a man among my force who is headed for Winchester. He could carry a message for you. From there, couriers carry reports to Normandy nearly every fortnight.”

  ‘Unfortunately, I have no scribe, and although I cipher well enough, my letters are scarcely legible. Do you also have a cleric among you who could pen a message for me?”

  “Your prayers are answered, Brevrienne. It seems the bishopry at Winchester has sent a man named Father Reibald to serve at Oxbury.” Iovin gestured to a cowled figure near the doorway. “His first duty could be to write your message to the king.”

  “I did not request a priest be sent.”

  “Nevertheless, there he is. Mayhaps William ordered the bishopries to send holy men to every manor claimed in the king’s name.”

  Jobert regarded the priest uneasily. When he had caught the cleric’s eye, he gestured that the man should join them.

  “Lord Brevrienne.” The priest bowed his tonsured head politely as he approached. “I have been sent to Oxbury to succor the spiritual needs of its people.” He reached for the purse slung across his rounded shoulders and withdrew a rolled parchment. “I have a letter from Bishop Walchelin.”

  Jobert waved the parchment away. “Your word is enough, Father Reibald. ’Tis only that I am surprised to learn the Bishop concerns himself with a small demesne such as Oxbury.”

  The priest smiled, although the expression did not warm his wintry gray eyes. “Bishop Walchelin is an amazing man. Like the Lord himself, he takes it upon himself to attend even the smallest sparrow.”

  Jobert’s unsettled feeling grew. Could he trust this man to write a message to William? He truly had no choice. It could be weeks before he had another opportunity. He could not spare a man to act as courier, and at any rate, it would not be safe for a lone rider to make such a journey. Two squires entered the hall, rolling the last precious cask between them. They tapped it and cups were filled all around. Jobert toasted the visitors and waited for the servants to bring the food. There was no sign of Edeva. He began to wonder if she would ever return.

  “Tell me,” Jobert said, intending to distract the visitors from his poor hospitality, “what brings you to Oxbury? Are you passing through on the way to the coast?”

  “Nay, ’tis you I seek, Brevrienne. I have come on behalf of the king. In Gloucestershire some of the rebel Saxons have joined forces with the Welsh and have begun to harry Ralph of Berkeley’s lands. William would have you send forces to aid Berkeley in ridding his property of these noxious vermin.”

  “But I have my own troubles here,” Jobert protested. “Last night, the kitchen shed was set afire, and I’m certain it was the doing of the dispossessed Saxons. If I send a force of my men to aid Berkeley, I leave my own holdings at risk.”

  Iovin made a harsh sound. “The king counts Gloucestershire as a strategic buffer with the north, while he sees this area as already won. ’Tis not merely you he calls upon for support and men, but all of the Wiltshire lords.”

  “But if I send men to serve him, I diminish the security of my own property.”

  “If you came yourself, you could get away with bringing fewer knights. More than numbers, the king values experience fighting the Saxons, and you have that, Brevrienne.”

  Jobert considered the other soldier’s words. Would a larger force left in charge of Oxbury fare better than he and fewer men? Was it sheer numbers that kept the Saxons from attacking, or fear of him?

  And then there was Edeva. His leaving might encourage her to show her true nature. If she took part of a rebellion against his authority, he would know she still intended to drive him from her home, despite her cooperation in other matters. Before he wed her, he should know for certain if she plotted against him or not.

  “Berkeley expects a band of Brevrienne knights to meet him in Gloucestershire in three days,” Iovin said. “I suggest you make arrangements.”

  At that moment, Edeva entered the hall, followed by servants bearing platters of cold meat and baskets of bread and round white cheeses. It was not the food that drew Jobert’s attention, but Edeva. She had changed from her sensible work kirtle into a gown of soft blue wool. While not as striking as the one she had worn to the feast, the garment brought out the vivid color of her eyes, the milky perfection of her skin and the gilded luster of her golden braids.

  Jobert stared at her, thinking he would have the priest pen the message to William that very day. It hardly mattered whether she was a spy or no—he wanted this woman.

  * * *

  “You keep a well-ordered household, Lady Edeva. The inhabitants of Oxbury must find favor in the eyes of the Lord to have such a competent mistress.”

  Edeva murmured her thanks to the priest, wondering if he was sincere. His narrow face and keen gray eyes struck her as crafty and sly, his whole manner slightly condescending. No wonder Brevrienne had asked her to show the priest to the chapel and his quarters. The Norman likely did not feel any more at ease with the cleric than she did.

  She glanced over at the priest as they walked across the yard and saw him picking his teeth with one of his grimy fingers. Inwardly, she shuddered. Although she knew some holy men disdained bathing as a worldly affectation, Father Reibald’s slovenly appearance still disgusted her.

  “’Twas a fine meal,” the priest said. “You are fortunate that more of your foodstores weren’t lost when the kitchen burned. I suppose kitchen fires are common, although I have heard talk among the men that this one was set deliberately. “

  Edeva felt a shiver of warning
, but she said calmly, “Who told you that, Father?”

  “One of the knights spoke of a plot among the servants. They planned that the fire would distract the Normans while other Saxons attacked from outside the manor.”

  Edeva met the priest’s opaque gaze. “Well,” she said, “their plan did not succeed, did it?”

  They reached the chapel. The door creaked as Edeva opened it. She set the smoking lamp in a bracket by the entrance and took a rushlight and went to light the candles along the nave.

  “’Tis finer than I would have guessed.” Father Reibald walked toward the altar. “It must have cost a small fortune to build this.”

  “My father built it for my mother as a gift.”

  The priest turned to face her. His long face appeared somehow sinister in the flickering candlelight. “You must despise the Normans for taking all of this from you.”

  Edeva froze. Had the Norman asked the priest to spy on her?

  The cleric moved nearer. “Has Brevrienne forced you to share his bed?” He tsked sadly when she did not answer. “Men like Brevrienne have no subtlety. A pity King William did not give Oxbury to someone deserving of it, instead of a common knight.”

  This remark surprised Edeva so much, she could not help asking, “A common knight? What do you mean?”

  The priest tsked again. “Jobert Brevrienne is a nobody, a younger son who cannot claim even an acre of land in Normandy. If not for King William’s absurd generosity toward the knights who fought at Hastings, Brevrienne would be no more than a paid soldier to this day.”

  “He seems well educated and honorable,” Edeva said. The priest’s criticisms of Brevrienne set her on edge. “His manners are quite pleasing.”

  The priest scowled at her. “Don’t be a fool. I can see you are from a family of wealth and nobility. Don’t waste yourself on a man like Brevrienne.”

  The priest’s words startled Edeva. She was on the verge of asking him what he thought she should do about her circumstances when there was a creaking sound.

  They both turned and saw Brevrienne standing in the doorway, his tall frame filling the entrance.

  Edeva’s cheeks felt hot. Despite the fact that the priest was the one who spoke disloyally, she was unsettled by the Norman’s sudden appearance. Would he think she plotted with the priest?

  “Have you shown Father Reibald where he will sleep?” Brevrienne asked.

  “Nay, I did not have a chance yet,” Edeva answered.

  “I will do it,” Brevrienne said. “Beornflaed is looking for you.”

  Edeva hurried to the door. As the entryway was narrow, Brevrienne had to move aside so she could get by. Their arms brushed as Edeva passed him. A familiar aching warmth rose in her loins, and she was halfway to the manor hall before she could gain control over her nerves once again.

  * * *

  “A beauty, isn’t she?” Father Reibald said as Edeva left. Jobert nodded. His flesh still hummed with the thrill of having been so near to her.

  “For a Saxon, that is,” the priest added. “A handsome people, but treacherous and cunning. I vow the king will have his hands full subduing them.”

  Jobert regarded the priest warily. Had Edeva said something to the cleric to make him suspect her of deceit?.

  Father Reibald cleared his throat. “From what I gather, Brevrienne, you have been a most generous conqueror, yet the Saxons still plot your overthrow. Does that not anger you?”

  “In what way do you think they plot against me?”

  “All of Oxbury knows the kitchen fire was set deliberately. Most commanders would be determined to wipe out all trace of resistance. They would not let such a thing go unpunished.”

  Jobert poked the toe of his boot into the pool of, hot wax collecting beneath one of the candles by the rail. “How am I to know for certes who is to blame? Do you think I should make all the Saxons suffer for the actions of a few?”

  “Some would say ’tis your duty to impose your will upon these lands, no matter how distasteful you find the responsibility. King William is not known for his lenience, and he might not understand your squeamishness in carrying out his laws.”

  Jobert struggled to keep his temper under control. The priest seemed to be deliberately baiting him, although why, he did not know. He kept his voice smooth as he asked, “And have you seen William recently then, Father? Is that why you imagine yourself so intimately acquainted with his wishes?”

  The priest shifted, like a hawk whose feathers have been ruffled. “I have not had the honor of being in King William’s presence since the coronation. I merely repeat what I have heard upon the lips of so many of his trusted commanders. They all speak of the dishonor and perfidy of the English.”

  “I have not found the Saxons to be particularly untrustworthy,” Jobert said “There is a group of rebels in the woods who would do anything to rout me from Oxbury. But the rest of the people—I am confident they will eventually come to accept me as their lord.”

  The priest shrugged. “You must do as you see fit, Brevrienne. Although I pray your faith in the English is not misplaced. As I understand it, you and a party of your men are being called up to do battle against Saxons in the north. I hope nothing disastrous befalls the manor in your absence.”

  Jobert’s jaw clenched. The priest’s warning echoed his own worries. What a wretched time for the king to call him into service. Only a few more weeks, and he would be much more confident of his hold upon Oxbury, as well as where things stood between him and Edeva. Which reminded him.

  “I have a task for you already, Father,” he said. “I want you to write out a missive to the king. I am petitioning him for the right to wed Lady Edeva. I would have my hold upon Oxbury strengthened by the holy bonds of matrimony.”

  * * *

  “Tomorrow I leave Oxbury with a force of soldiers to join another lord in fighting Saxon rebels on his lands.”

  Jobert watched Edeva carefully as he made his announcement. They were alone in the bedchamber. He had asked her to meet him there as it afforded the only real privacy in the manor.

  Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise? Satisfaction? “How long will you be gone?”

  “I owe the king service for a month, longer if the need is dire.”

  She nodded. “Who will you leave in charge here?”

  “Sir Alan.”

  This time there was no mistaking her expression of displeasure. Either she disliked Alan or she guessed he would prove a formidable opponent if the rebels decided to attack.

  She raised her eyes to his. “How many men go with you?”

  A shaft of disappointment went through Jobert. Her question could only mean she sought to assess how well the manor would be guarded in his absence. “I take only ten men, and leave a garrison here of forty knights.”

  She nodded again, her manner stiff and formal. Hard to imagine they had once indulged in passionate, uninhibited lovemaking..

  Unthinkingly, he looked toward the bed. When he glanced back at her, he saw her cheeks had flushed. She, too, remembered.

  He cleared his throat. “You have done well in overseeing the servants and workmen. I hope you will continue in my absence.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Her voice sounded strained, almost melancholy. Was it possible she would miss him? Mayhaps that afternoon meant something to her after all. For certes, he could not forget it. His mouth went dry merely at the memory, and his shaft grew hard.

  He looked again at the bed, considering. Four long sennights he would endure a grim soldier’s existence, sleeping on the hard ground with naught but a bedroll for comfort. Why should he not avail himself of this woman’s bounteous pleasures before he left?

  His breathing quickened at the thought of her spread out beneath him, all spun-gold hair and skin of rose and cream. And all that glory awaited him a mere arm’s length away.

  Edeva repressed a sigh. He was leaving. She’d once longed for this day, but now that it was here, she felt a sense of loss rather
than triumph. The thought of being left alone with Fornay’s cold, knowing glances and Father Reibald’s sly innuendos made her feel sick inside.

  And then there were her brothers. They would take Brevrienne’s departure as a clear signal to attack the manor. Could he not see that he was throwing her to the mercy of the wolves who circled Oxbury?

  She wanted to argue that he should not go, but she knew he would not heed her. Mayhaps this was a test, a trap devised to discover where her loyalties lay. If the Norman returned to find Oxbury lost, she had no doubt he would seek vengeance.

  But at this moment, vengeance seemed the last thing on his mind. The green of his eyes had deepened, becoming the shade of foliage in the depths of the forest. His nostrils flared, like a hungry man scenting a banquet.

  Waves of longing echoed inside her. If he reached for her, she would not resist.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Brevrienne, my lord. Sir Iovin requests your presence below.”

  The Norman grimaced in acknowledgment, and Edeva felt the mood shatter.

  Brevrienne went to the door. As he opened it, Edeva caught a glimpse of Fornay on the stairs. A slight smile lit his dark, handsome features.

  A stool lay in her pathway as Edeva crossed the bedchamber. She gave it a kick. Damn Fornay, if it were not for him, she might have had another chance with Brevrienne.

  But the stupid knight had deliberately interrupted them. If ever she had an opportunity to repay him, she would do so.

  She jerked off her gunna, took her comb and began to unsnarl her hair.

  THIRTEEN

  “Milady, I would have a word with you.” Golde spoke softly as she leaned close to fill Edeva’s cup with ale at the evening meal.

  Edeva stiffened with irritation. She could not bear the thought that Brevrienne had bedded this smug-faced servant woman. That he had left the day before without even returning to the bedchamber to say goodbye made her mood even fouler. “Speak, then,” she answered harshly.

  A slight smile played over Golde’s face. “I don’t think this is the place to give you a message from Beornwold.”