Maiden and the Monster

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I’ll kill you for saying such things. King Alfred will no doubt pardon me for taking what is mine,” Luther stated smartly. “I’ll have Lady Eden, tainted or no. ‘Tis of no consequence to me.”

  “There’s only one problem with all of your scheming.” Vladamir smiled with calculation as he raised his hand to gently scratch his chin.

  “And what is that?” Luther asked through clenched teeth. His small eyes narrowed resistively and his hands balled into fists as he stared down at Vladamir from his taller height.

  “They all involve killing me,” Vladamir answered with a tilt of his brow. He drew his broadsword from his side in one swift motion and turned to challenge the man. “So quit talking and kill.”

  Luther drew his sword with confidence. He pointed it at the duke as he asked, “Do you not wish hear what price I offer for her afore I run you through? ‘Tis a good sum.”

  “I want nothing you have to give,” Vladamir said as Luther circled around him. He turned to follow the man.

  Luther thrust his weapon with a vicious growl, beginning the assault. His small Saxon sword was dismissed easily with a clang of the broadsword. He held his head confidently as he silently backed away and assessed his opponent. Continuing to circle, Vladamir narrowed his eyes.

  Eden jumped at the sound of clashing metal, still moving toward Lizbeth and Raulf. Fear gripped her heart as she saw her former intended lunge toward her husband. In disbelief, she watched Vladamir deflect the blow. She quickly continued walking until she reached Raulf and Lizbeth. Turning to them she rushed, “Raulf, are you all right?”

  Lizbeth had tears in her eyes. Eden couldn’t bring herself to look at her husband’s mistress. The maidservant flinched as another loud clang echoed the bailey.

  Eden turned in horror to the men. A scream sat silent on the edge of her lips. A chill worked its way over her body as Luther’s attacks grew bolder and her husband’s defense appeared to weaken. They thrust toward each other with more and more vigor. Eden’s hand fluttered to her mouth. The knight’s movements became more confident as they tested the other’s limits. Sweat lined their brows and their chests heaved with the excursion.

  “Why, m’lady? Why has the monster done this?” the maidservant demanded.

  “Lizbeth,” Eden began. She stopped when she saw Luther raise his sword high above his head. The duke kicked his attacker swiftly in the gut and sent him sprawling to the ground on his back. Eden jolted in alarm. The fallen man struck Vladamir with his foot as the duke descended on him, moving to strike at him as he lay on the ground. Vladamir stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Eden sighed in temporary relief to see her husband right himself unscathed.

  With Vladamir safe for the moment, Eden turned back to Raulf and hastened, “I’m so sorry. I’ll find a way to help you. I didn’t know my husband cared for Lizbeth so much. No wonder you didn’t want to speak with him.”

  She heard another grunt and clang of the swords. Eden turned back to the men with a jolt of alarm. Raulf spoke, but his voice was hoarse and the words were lost on her as she was drawn toward the fight. Luther had her husband cornered against the wall, a foolish smile on his face.

  “Nay, Luther, don’t,” Eden screamed, forgetting her resolve against her husband. Her feet propelled her body forward. The beat of her heart echoed in the caverns of her ears. The duke didn’t hear her plea or if he did he didn’t show it. She was about to scream again but stopped, her jaw slack, when she saw Vladamir’s face. The duke toyed with the other man. His eyes were the same devilish black they had been when he was strangling Raulf. He was full of confidence but it was a dangerous game he played.

  “See how he taunts him,” she heard a soldier near her say, confirming her suspicion. She turned to stare at the knight in disbelief. He was a scruffy man, with too long a beard and not enough hair on his head. His rounded belly jiggled as he yelled his support of her husband.

  Eden turned back to the fight, her breath caught in her tightening throat. Her husband should’ve been on the losing side. Luther was taller and he had the duke backed into a corner.

  Eden rushed forward once more. She glared at the men, intending on stopping their battle over her. Her hand fisted over her pounding heart as Luther lifted his elbow back to give Vladamir one final thrust. Her husband was bloodied with several superficial cuts and his eyes were narrowed and drooped as if defeated.

  “Nay!” Eden shrieked, lifting her hand as if to pluck the image of Luther’s sword from the air. Running full tilt, she tripped on a mongrel dog and landed on her stomach. The fall didn’t stop her as she surged once more to her feet. She desperately wanted to save her husband. Her heart leapt in her chest as Luther swung. She stiffened with trepidation, her world crumbling all around her.

  Then in a deft movement it was over. Eden gasped as Vladamir rose from his position and severed Luther’s head from his body, knocking the Saxon sword aside with the same sweeping blow. Her feet froze, her lips trembling and she forced a shaking breath of air into her lungs. The head slowly fell to the ground.

  Suddenly, the cheers of the watching knights broke into her head. They yelled praises at the victory. Eden blocked their shouts from her mind. Her limbs were numb as she watched the headless Luther still standing before her husband.

  As the severed head rolled across the dirt, Luther’s lifeless body finally crumpled to the ground in listless spasms, blood squirting up like a fountain from his neck to splatter the ground. Eden eyed the head in horror as it rolled and bounced to the rickety cart that followed Luther inside. Beside the cart stood a short figure clothed in a black tunic gown and covered from head to foot in a matching black veil. She looked like a caller of death.

  The small person held still as the head hit the tip of a boot and rolled back. The veil moved. It appeared as if the child looked up to the man who delivered the fatal blow. Eden followed the child’s gaze. Vladamir no longer looked proud of his deed. Blood spotted his dark skin and marred his heathenish brow. His eyes narrowed in sorrow and regret, but he remained motionless.

  The child slowly reached up her small hand and pulled back the veil to reveal a small black overtunic with no decoration. Her hair was lighter blonde, her skin pale and drawn against her emotionless face, and from that face stared two very familiar eyes.

  “Gwendolyn,” Vladamir whispered. He moved toward the child, a look of intense happiness on his face only he stopped when he saw the girl’s expression of horror at his approach.

  Gwendolyn? His daughter?

  Eden gasped in alarm as she looked once more to the head. Luther’s lifeless eyes stared up at the child, keeping her immobile within their deadened gaze. The child’s eyes met hers, pleading with her from their cold depths for help. Eden understood and rushed forward. She ignored Vladamir’s frown as she held her hand out to the girl.

  “Come. I’m your new mother,” Eden said so only the girl could hear. She didn’t smile as she skirted past the head. Kicking Luther’s head to the side with the heel of her foot so his eyes turned to the ground, she heard the men snicker.

  “Load him in the cart and deliver him to his camp. Tell them to await the earl and then they are to leave my land forever. There is no more for them here,” she heard her husband order. Eden ignored him.

  “Then I’m your daughter,” the child answered politely back. She gave a small curtsey. Her small hand fit nicely into Eden’s, though it was cold. Gwendolyn’s fingers didn’t move, not even to shake over what she witnessed. She gave the child an encouraged pull to follow her inside.

  Gwendolyn took one last look at her father before settling the veil back over her head. She let her new mother lead her away. There were no more words needed between the two. They both understood the other’s place, for they both understood they each possessed an unwanted affection for a man—one for a father, the other for a husband.

  * * * * *

  ‘Tis truly eerie. She looks just like…

  Eden shook her head in awe as s
he looked at Gwendolyn’s steadfast gaze and quiet face. She swallowed nervously as she reached up to take the girl’s veil from her head. The child sat on her bed with practiced indifference.

  According to Vladamir, the child was no more than six years in age, yet she watched Eden through eyes that seemed much older, the expression just like the duke’s. She had the exact same scar on her jawbone as Vladamir carried, only to a lesser degree but that is where the resemblance to the duke ended.

  They were in the bedchamber Eden ordered prepared for her new daughter. She’d been excited to have the girl come and wanted to make her feel welcomed and at home. But now as she looked at the girl she wasn’t sure that was possible.

  “You look just like me,” the girl stated flatly as if reading Eden’s mind, “only older and your hair is redder.”

  Eden nodded. The girl’s brown eyes sent a chill through her. They were her eyes, Clifton’s eyes, and they were staring back at her.

  “What does this mean?” Gwendolyn asked. “Are you truly my mother? I was told she died in the fire trying to rescue me, but you don’t look scarred and you certainly are not dead.”

  “Nay, I’m your mother only by marriage,” Eden answered, keeping her voice from cracking as she sat on the bed next to the child. “I only wed with your father a few fortnights past.”

  Gwendolyn nodded her head in thought. “Then…?”

  “I don’t know.” Eden couldn’t take her eyes away from Gwendolyn’s eerily familiar gaze. “I don’t understand it myself.”

  The girl picked up the veil and placed it back on her head. “I lost my wimple on the journey here. It blew away while I slept.”

  “I’ll get you another one but I don’t believe you need to wear the veil here especially over your face like that. Your father never makes me cover myself. In truth, ever since I left my father’s home I haven’t worn one. Well, I did to my wedding, but that was it.”

  “That’s because you don’t need the veil. I do,” Gwendolyn said matter-of-factly. She pulled the dark material over her head to settle over the scars.

  “Who told you that nonsense?”

  “Sister Mary Elizabeth.” Gwendolyn folded her hands piously in her lap. “She said ‘twas so that none would stare at me on this journey and that the outside world wouldn’t understand—”

  “Methinks wearing naught but black and hiding so much from sight draws more attention to you, but mayhap she was right.” Eden pretended to concentrate on her words, prudently tilting her head.

  Gwendolyn sadly nodded.

  “You’re too beautiful for just anyone to look at,” Eden declared with a small smile. She noted how the girl’s face lit up under the lace with tentative pleasure. “Methinks your father was too fearful that you’d get assaulted with suitors so early.”

  Gwendolyn giggled as she pulled up the veil. “Do you really think so?”

  “Yea, I do,” Eden said in all seriousness.

  “I don’t want suitors. I don’t like boys,” Gwendolyn confided with another laugh. “They’re too mean and they put frogs in my hair. They’re worthless.”

  “I quite agree.” Eden laughed in approval of the candid confession and for the first time in days she felt real pleasure.

  “But you love him, don’t you? Father, I mean.” Gwendolyn’s eyes shone with childish wisdom and her small mouth curled into a thoughtful smile. “I saw how you yelled for him and tried to save him. Though you must never have seen him fight. He never needs help. He’s always the victor.”

  Did Vladamir kill a lot of men in front of his daughter?

  “I…” Eden was unsure of her feelings for the duke.

  “‘Tis all right. I understand. Father doesn’t love me either, not like I love him. Mayhap, he cares for us a bit but I don’t think he loves.” Gwendolyn glanced at her hands folded in her lap. “Not since my mother, at least that is what Haldana used to say.”

  “Nonsense,” Eden tried to protest, but couldn’t. The girl’s honesty tore at her heart. Already the child could see the rift between her father and her new mother-by-marriage. She gazed mournfully at the girl as she wrapped her arm about her shoulders. “Will you be all right?”

  “I have seen dead men afore. I’ll be fine.” Gwendolyn lost a bit of her girlhood innocence at the statement. She stiffened in Eden’s embrace until the woman was forced to let go of her.

  “Shall I leave you to rest?” Eden wondered briefly what other scars the girl carried since the fire. She often wondered if Vladamir carried more than just his outer scars. She had a strange feeling that he bore a lot of wounds the world couldn’t see. It would explain why he acted as he did.

  The girl nodded with a tired yawn.

  “I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. I shall try to find you something besides black to wear.” Eden stood. Taking the veil with her, she laid it on a small trunk. “Are these your things? Did you send them ahead?”

  “Nay.” Gwendolyn shook her head. “That was in here when we arrived.”

  Eden lifted the lid to the trunk. Inside were little tunic gowns of many colors. She held one of the dresses up and laughed.

  “Methinks they might be a little too small,” Eden said, examining the fine material. She felt a pang of jealousy, knowing her husband had given the girl the gowns. Yet she, his wife and a lady, was dressed as a servant.

  Though, ‘tis just as well. Methinks it would be too costly to give me any gowns of value, not if my husband insists on ripping them off of me.

  Eden thought in dismay of the beautiful wedding gown that her husband tore to shreds to make his flag of truce. Then the gown her father helped her tear when he hit her. And, finally, the gown of somewhat better quality she received from the servants, which the duke tore from her back in a moment of passion. She blushed at the memory.

  Eden didn’t let her envy over the beautiful gown show to the girl. Gwendolyn had enough on her mind not to have to deal with her new mother’s pettiness. The tunic was about a year too small causing the child to giggle. Eden folded the gown and put it back into the trunk.

  Closing the lid, Eden stood and dusted her hands on her skirt. “I’ll leave you for now. If you need aught, go belowstairs the way we came and ask the first person you see to come and get me. I’m easy enough to find.”

  “Thank you,” the girl mumbled. She closed her eyes as she rested on the bed.

  Eden swallowed hard as she gazed at the child. Taking a spare coverlet from a nearby chair, she laid it over the little form. The girl acted so mature but as she lay on the bed she was so small. It was like looking at a younger version of herself. The thought sent chills down her.

  What can it mean?

  Chapter Eleven

  “M’lord!” Eden jogged the last few steps it took to reach her husband, as he walked along the top of the bailey wall. The thick linen of her skirts flung about in the air as she moved. She couldn’t keep the fiery look of anger from her cheeks or the harsh bitterness from her tone as she glared up at him. “I would speak to you.”

  Vladamir nodded down to her and motioned his hand toward the gate where they were supervising Luther’s men as they carted the nobleman’s body from the castle. She took a deep breath, waiting for them to finish.

  Once the gates were again lowered to lock the men outside she charged forward, yelling loudly in her ire. “I would speak to you, m’lord.”

  Eden grabbed her overtunic so the linen wouldn’t drag in the dirt as Vladamir stood silently on the wall, waiting for her to come to him. A smile threatened the sides of his mouth as he watched the swaying of her hips under the servant’s gown. Even through her anger, seeing the duke’s attention caused her to shiver with anticipation. It had been so long since they’d come together in the dirty chamber. Each night, she waited for him, longing for him, touching herself as she thought about him. She’d learned a lot about her body in that time.

  Sunlight framed his head as he looked down at her from the height of the wall. His fingers
curled lightly over the dark stone, holding his weight as he leaned forward. For a moment, her heart quickened, but she ignored the feelings of shy arousal and kept her eyes boldly on him. There was much her husband needed to explain. She couldn’t forget the look in his face as he strangled Raulf and slew Luther—not that she was upset by the untimely demise of Lord Luther of Drakeshore.

  I’m in love with a monster, she thought with a heavy heart.

  Gwendolyn’s words about caring for a man who didn’t return their love echoed in her mind. The child was so young and had only been at the keep for an instant before she understood that fact. Eden hid her emotions from the duke, as she had since that night they’d come together.

  Shading her eyes, she stared up at him. A smirk lined his masculine features, as he leisurely leaned further over the edge. Peering down at her, he acted as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He eyed her curiously.

  “I need to speak with you, m’lord,” Eden said when he didn’t answer her summons. His handsome features shifted to a devilish grin and she swore he was trying to glance down the top of her tunic.

  Standing, he moved toward the ladder, making his way along the walkway. Eden followed him, nearly tripping over the uneven ground in her effort to keep up with his longer stride. Reaching the ladder, Vladamir idly climbed down to face her.

  When he neared the bottom, Eden said, “I’d have some answers and I’d have them now.”

  Vladamir raised a cool eyebrow. He jumped off the ladder and turned to her in one smooth movement. A lazy, practiced smile lingered on his tense face as if he committed no offense. He leaned his elbow on the ladder’s rung. “Gwendolyn?”

  Gwendolyn? We don’t speak for a week, he almost kills Raulf, and that’s all he has to say to me?