At that moment, fate intervened. Ancel came dashing in, running full speed. He waved about the sword that Raynor had whittled for him.
“Mother! I—”
“Are you supposed to run with a sword in your hand?”
“No, but—”
“Cousin Raynor has told you this sword is not a toy, Ancel. You must treat it with care. You don’t want to fall and hurt yourself or others with it. ’Tis an important tool to learn from.”
Her son hung his head. “I am sorry, Mother.” He raised his eyes. “Who is this? You look like a knight, good sir.”
Benedict smiled, all visages of shyness gone. “I am, my boy,” he stated, pride evident in his voice.
He visibly relaxed in the child’s presence. It gave her an idea.
“Sir Symond Benedict, allow me to introduce my son, Ancel de Montfort. Ancel, Sir Symond is a knight in our king’s royal guard.”
Ancel’s eyes lit up. “I met the king. When I was a little boy.” He puffed up like a peacock. “And he’s coming again to Kinwick.” He waved his wooden weapon about. “I shall show him my sword.”
“Don’t challenge him to fight,” Benedict warned. “Our king is a fine warrior. The best I have seen with a sword. Just because you’re a mere boy, he would not go easy on you.”
Ancel thought on his words. “Could you teach me to fight? My cousin made me this sword, but he’s only shown me a little bit.”
Benedict nodded thoughtfully. “I could do that.” He looked to Merryn. “If your mother approves.”
“Oh, Mother, please. Please. Sir Symond is an important knight. I’m sure he’s fought in all kinds of battles, just as Father did. I want him to teach me.”
Merryn knelt and put her hands on her son’s shoulders. “I trust that if Sir Symond decides to act as your tutor in swordplay, you will listen carefully to him.”
“Aye!”
“And no matter what he says, you will do as he asks?”
“Aye!”
She gave him a squeeze. “Then why don’t you take him to the training yard. He can show you some of—”
“I want to learn swordplay, Mother,” a voice called out. “May I go?”
Merryn stood as Alys eagerly ran to join them. “Sir Symond, this is my daughter Alys. She has voiced her interest in learning to defend herself.”
“You don’t have a sword,” Ancel taunted.
“I can share yours!” she cried.
“No, ’tis mine,” her brother said stubbornly. “Raynor made it for me. Not a girl.”
“But Mother said Raynor can make me one. And I can share yours until he does. Isn’t that right, Mother?” Alys’ blue eyes pleaded her case as much as her words.
“It’s a fine idea for a girl to know how to defend herself,” Benedict interjected. “And I can tell Ancel is a good boy who will be a decent brother and allow his sister to learn alongside him. Brothers should always look out for their younger sisters.”
“I’m older than Ancel,” Alys informed him.
“By a minute,” Ancel said.
“But I’m still older.”
“Children,” Merryn said sternly. Both quieted immediately. “Sir Symond is our guest. Neither he nor I will put up with arguing of any kind. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mother,” the twins mumbled.
“If Sir Symond agrees to take you both on, you will follow his instructions without question.”
They nodded, their eyes hopeful.
She looked at their guest. “Are you capable of handling them both, sir?”
He gave her a smile. “Indeed, Lady Merryn. I handled the French and they were more argumentative than these two.” Benedict looked down at the twins. “You may show me the place where we can train. And we shall walk. No running allowed.”
Immediately, each twin took one of his hands.
Merryn laughed. “I think in an hour you might choose to take a bit of that rest I recommended.”
“I may, my lady.”
She watched the children lead him off, chattering away.
Now she could see to her tasks at hand.
The evening air chilled Merryn as she headed through the inner and outer baileys and toward the gate. She tightened the cloak about her.
It had taken her longer to return to Geoffrey and Raynor this afternoon than she had hoped. She had been interrupted several times before she was finally able to rejoin them in the woods. She hadn’t stayed to see Geoffrey dressed and fed. Too many duties at Kinwick needed her attention and she’d returned to the keep in haste.
Merryn ate the evening meal with Symond Benedict by her side, sharing her trencher. He did not make much conversation and she was thankful. Ancel and Alys made up for the lapse of talk by telling her of their lesson with Sir Symond. She’d told him how grateful she was for his interest in the twins.
“I am interested in everything about Kinwick,” he’d murmured softly, sending dread through her.
She hadn’t time to worry about the mess being created. And she hadn’t found a spare moment to pen a letter to the king, informing him of Geoffrey’s remarkable return. That would have to wait until tomorrow. Her priority was to see Geoffrey safe within the walls of Kinwick.
Now Merryn waited for her husband and Raynor to join her.
She heard a voice call out and the response from the watchtower. After a moment, the gates began to open.
Geoffrey kept his face covered in the folds of his cloak while Raynor pushed his hood aside so the gatekeeper could easily recognize him. They walked quickly as Merryn motioned them to come with her. She wondered what ran through her husband’s mind as he ascended the steps of his home after so long a time away.
They entered the keep and passed the doors leading to the great hall. Out of a long ago habit, Merryn took Geoffrey’s hand. He stiffened at her touch but didn’t shake free. A small victory considering he’d shied away from that in the forest.
Surely, he experienced the same feelings she did, that spark of tenderness they’d once shared.
She led him upstairs and Raynor stopped at the door to his chamber. Merryn gazed at him and he inclined his head to her and then disappeared into his room. She tightened her grip on her husband’s hand.
They passed the solar, where Elia still slept. After Ferand passed away, Elia offered her the solar. Merryn refused to give up the bedchamber she’d briefly shared with Geoffrey.
Merryn opened the door and went inside, but Geoffrey didn’t follow. It took a tug to get him to move and she closed the door behind them. A cheery fire warmed the bedchamber. Earlier, she’d placed a flask of wine and two pewter cups on the table, along with some fruit and cheese. It reminded her of what Geoffrey had done on the night of their wedding.
He let go of her hand and moved to the fire. She watched him unlace the cloak and drop it to the floor as he squatted. He raised his hands, basking in the heat.
Merryn came to stand behind him. She was shocked at how filthy his hands were. The dirt seemed embedded like a second layer of skin. She hadn’t thought to bring water for him to bathe. First thing in the morning, she’d get her husband in a tub and help scrub the grime from his body.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
He nodded.
“We should ready ourselves for bed.” Filthy or not, she had waited years to lie next to her husband. Merryn would not be robbed of the pleasure of his weight in the bed, his head pillowed next to hers.
Facing her, he said quietly, “I cannot sleep with you.” He swept his hands up and down his body. “I would ruin the bedclothes.”
Geoffrey’s sleeves rode up as he motioned. Though the chamber was dimly lit, even in the faint light Merryn could see the deep scars circling his wrists. She dug her nails into her palms and bit her tongue before she could cry out.
Oh, Sweet Jesu. Who did that to him?
“I shall lie here.” He indicated the floor. “Next to this welcoming fire.”
“I have food and drink for
you.”
“Nay. I had my fill with what you brought in the woods. I . . . I am not used to eating much. I shall partake of that on the morrow.”
So mayhap he did remember something, whether he realized it or not.
Geoffrey looked at her solemnly. “Thank you. For not . . . running from me.” He paused. “I saw my image reflected in a pond. I realize . . . I realize I am . . . not the man you remember.” Sorrow tinged his voice. “You have been most kind to me, my lady.”
Merryn blinked back the tears that formed. It was if Geoffrey spoke to her as a stranger.
“Then let me get you pillows. A blanket.”
“Nothing for me, my lady. I’m used to sleeping on the floor.” He lay down and pulled the cloak over him.
She wanted to weep as she watched him. Her throat grew tight.
Finally, she said, “My name is Merryn.”
“I know,” he whispered.
She wanted to go to him. Smooth his hair. Kiss his cheek. Let him know how happy she was that he’d returned. She had dreamt of this very day for an eternity. Instead, a strange reality existed. It confused her. They had barely begun a life together before it was snatched away from them.
And now they had both grown older—and the man in this room was no longer her friend and lover. A stranger had taken Geoffrey de Montfort’s place. One that she could not touch—much less nurture—for fear of frightening him away.
Instead, she crossed the room, slipped off her shoes, and crawled into bed without removing her clothes.
Sleep refused to come. Merryn wept in silence.
Chapter 18
Merryn watched Geoffrey’s chest rise and fall as he slept. She’d only gotten a few hours of rest herself. Her jumbled thoughts kept her mind racing. When sleep finally did come, it didn’t last for long.
Because of Geoffrey’s anguished moans.
He’d tossed and turned throughout the night. Several times low, harsh groans escaped from him. In them, she heard pain and sorrow.
Wherever he had been—whatever had happened to him—she realized it had damaged Geoffrey to the depths of his soul.
And it was up to her to heal him.
Merryn rose while he slept and dressed in a fresh smock and kirtle. She chose a light blue cotehardie and lifted it over her head. Geoffrey had always liked her in blue. She pulled on fresh hose and shoes and fastened his sapphire brooch to her clothing.
She decided to let Geoffrey sleep and quietly left their chamber.
As she started down the corridor, Raynor stepped from the shadows.
“How is he?”
Merryn saw the concern etched into his face. She motioned for him to walk with her. Raynor slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and fell into step with her.
“I left him sleeping. On the floor.”
His brows shot up. “The floor? Why?”
She shrugged. “He claimed his filth would stain the bedclothes. He gathered his cloak about him and curled up next to the hearth like a cat.”
“I’ve never seen such grime on a man, even after battle. It’s almost as if he were buried alive.”
“That’s not our only problem.”
They reached the stairs and began their descent to the main floor.
“You mean him wanting to hide and not let anyone know he has returned?”
“Much worse,” she said.
“Good morn,” someone called out.
Merryn stopped in her tracks and gripped Raynor’s arm.
“A good morn to you, Sir Symond.” She felt Raynor stiffen next to her. She pulled him down the remaining steps and paused in front of their visitor.
“Sir Raynor Le Roux, I would like to introduce you to Sir Symond Benedict. He’s a member of the king’s guard. Raynor is a cousin to the de Montforts.”
The men greeted each other.
“I hoped to escort you to mass and then break my fast with you, Lady Merryn,” Benedict told her.
“Aye. Exactly what I had in mind.” She pulled her hand from Raynor’s arm and took Symond’s. She allowed the knight to lead her to Kinwick’s small chapel. Raynor followed them inside.
Merryn’s mind raced during the mass. She needed to keep Symond occupied again today. She hoped Raynor would help her in this endeavor.
The service ended and they made their way into the great hall which was bustling with activity.
“I should like to see some of the grounds if you are free today,” Benedict said.
“I would be happy to show Kinwick to you,” Raynor interjected. “I know how busy Merryn is on Wednesdays with the candles.”
“Aye,” she said, glad Raynor had thought so quickly of an excuse. “We make candles every Wednesday. You would be surprised how many are needed to keep Kinwick lit. It’s a lengthy task, but I cannot leave it to others. My help is needed.”
“Must you spend your time this way?” She heard the disappointment in his voice. “I had hoped to have the pleasure of your company today.”
“Even in domestic duties, I prefer to supervise my servants carefully,” she replied. “I am very particular about my candles. How they are made is a reflection on me and Kinwick.”
Raynor added, “Merryn expects perfection. I would enjoy showing you the castle and the surrounding area, Sir Benedict. I am a frequent visitor at Kinwick and feel more than adequate to serve as your guide.” He thought a moment. “We should ask Diggory, the steward, to join us.”
Merryn stood. “I shall leave you men to decide how to manage your day. I will see you at the evening meal.”
She gave a quick curtsey and hurried away, grabbing hold of Tilda as she passed her.
“I need hot water brought to my chamber at once. At least triple what is normally sent. The buckets are to be left outside my door.” She thought a moment. “And food. I find myself hungry. Ravenously hungry.”
The servant eyed her. “Does this have anything to do with the king’s man? Is he the one you must wed?”
“Please do as I say, Tilda. And if anyone asks, tell them I am busy all day. Making candles.”
Tilda’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Merryn returned to her chamber, drawing the bar across the door. She leaned against it to support her shaking body.
Geoffrey had finally awakened. He stood, fingering one of the pewter cups on the table, his face full of longing. Without looking at her, he said softly, “’Tis the cup from our wedding night.”
“Aye.” She crossed the room and lifted the other cup, smiling as she stroked the etchings along the side.
“They have been a part of this room since that night,” she told him. “I kept everything the same.” Her eyes met his. “It helped me to feel close to you.”
Merryn set the cup down and then removed the one from his hand, placing it on the table.
“I didn’t change the bedclothes for a long time, for they carried your scent—our scent.” She took his hand, entwining her fingers around his.
“I left your clothing in the chest. I heard your voice and saw your face every time I closed my eyes. I wore your brooch as a reminder of the love you had for me. Sometimes, I pretended you’d gone away again to war and that you might return at any moment.”
She raised her eyes to meet his. “I never forgot you, Geoffrey. Though, eventually, we referred to you as dead instead of gone, that was for the children’s sake.”
Raw emotions surfaced inside her. “Our twins are the best thing in my life. They have been the only thing that kept me going during years of doubt and loneliness. And now that you have returned, I long for them to get to know you. For us to be a family. United in every way.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to her. Their lips met briefly. His beard felt so foreign.
Then, Geoffrey jerked away. He grabbed the flask of wine and poured it into a cup, draining it quickly. He drank a second serving.
Merryn wanted to fight through the protective lay
ers that surrounded him but didn’t know how. Geoffrey needed time to adjust to her and being back at Kinwick again.
To remember the love they shared.
A knock sounded at the door. “Hot water, my lady. And plenty of food. Anything else you be wantin’ for now?”
She walked to the door and spoke through it. “Thank you. This is all I require.” She waited for the servants to retreat before she unlocked and opened the door.
Merryn lifted one of the buckets of water by the handle and turned.
“I’ll take that,” Geoffrey said, grabbing it from her hands. “And I can bathe myself. Please go once the buckets are in.”
She glared at him. “I will help you. I would do so for any guest and I intend to do this for my own husband.”
“No.” Geoffrey stared at her, a hardness in his eyes. “I cannot . . . I would not have you see me this way.”
Merryn picked up another bucket and shoved it at him. Water sloshed out. “You were always stubborn, Geoffrey de Montfort. But I have learned to be more so,” she warned. “So shed your clothing and get yourself into that tub at once. I refuse to take no for an answer.”
She narrowed her gaze, her voice stern. This was the tone she took when the twins proved naughty. She never backed down and was not about to give in to Geoffrey over something as simple as a bath.
Especially when her hands longed to stroke his body.
Without a word, he marched the bucket to the tub and dumped the water into it. He dropped the pail on the floor, then turned his back to her and began fiddling with his clothing.
Merryn breathed a sigh of relief that she’d won this small battle. She took a vial from her trunk and poured it into the water before bringing the remaining buckets inside the room. She also gathered the tray of food and took it to the table before bolting the door again as a precaution.
By the time she finished her tasks, Geoffrey was in the tub. She poured hot water over his head, wetting his hair and beard. She then gathered soap and cloths to wash him with after she had scrubbed him with the strongest brush she owned.
He took the brush and soap from her and attacked his skin with vigor, scouring until it became raw and red. Merryn simply watched. In the light, she saw the angry scars on his wrists and ankle as he lifted a leg and propped it on the edge of the tub. Instinct told her he’d been caged like an animal, kept far away from humanity.
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 42
