Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1
Page 48
“If there is nothing else, my lord, then I shall put my son to bed,” Cantia said, glancing over at the boy as he inspected a soldier with a splint on his leg. “It has been a busy day for him.”
Tevin nodded. “I thank you for your attention to my men.” He eyed her as she bowed slightly to him, to excuse herself, and moved away. “My lady?”
She paused. “Aye, my lord?”
“Will you be all right tonight?” he lifted an eyebrow. “Should I check on you later to make sure?”
She knew what he meant and her embarrassment returned. She averted her gaze. “I will be quite well, my lord,” she assured him softly. “Moreover, you took the only weapon I had.”
“You can always obtain another one if the will is strong enough.”
She shook her head, firmly. “No need, my lord. But I thank you for your concern.”
Taking Hunt by the hand, she quit the hall with the big yellow dog in tow. Tevin swore that when she left, all of the light went out of the room.
*
Cantia awoke on the floor of her bower. The bed was right over her head but she realized that she couldn’t bear to sleep on it any longer. The bed reminded her of her husband and it brought more distress than she could handle to sleep upon it. So she had slept on the floor, just as she had done since his death. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to sleep on the bed again.
She was slow to rise and even slower to dress. Shades of dawn were beginning to spread across the sky, growing brighter by the moment. But Cantia saw no magic in the sunrise. The last time she had gazed upon such a thing had been the day her husband had perished. She did not believe she would ever be able to gaze upon another sunrise as long as she lived and not think of that ominous morning.
After a brisk wash in the rosewater that the old servant woman had brought her, she donned a simple blue sheath and surcoat, securing it fast with a black broadcloth girdle. She rightly suspected she would be busy with wounded for the day and did not want to muss a finer garment.
Securing her magnificent hair in a thick braid that draped over her shoulder, she gazed at herself in the polished bronze mirror and thought that there was something different about her this morning. She didn’t look like a happy young girl any longer. She looked like a woman whose grief had matured her. She stared at herself until tears came to her eyes and then she put the mirror down. She couldn’t bear the reflection any longer.
Hunt was in the small landing outside when she came out of her chamber. He had his toys spread out all over the landing and top stairs, something that Brac had repeatedly admonished him against. Cantia found herself doing the same thing. Hunt made the effort to put a couple of wooden soldiers back in his room but then he began begging for food. Taking her son down to the living level, she passed by the solar on her way to the great hall and caught a glimpse of bodies in the small room. Pausing, she peered inside.
The lady knight was on her cot, sitting up against the wall. The lady knight looked at Cantia, nodding her head slightly as their eyes met. Cantia was about to say something to the women when movement caught her attention further off to her right. She had to step into the room to see who it was.
Charles Penden sat at the large table so often used by his son over the course of the years. She’d not seen the man for two days and now, he had appeared. He looked disheveled and she could smell his stench from where she stood. When his gaze found her, she instinctively tensed. She did not like the expression on his face.
He grunted at her. “This is not an infirmary,” he said. “Move this woman out.”
It was an order. Cantia’s mood was rapidly darkening. “She is injured. It would be painful and difficult thing to move her to the upper floors. ’Tis best that she recuperates down here where she can be watched with the rest of the wounded.”
She wasn’t being combative in the least, but Charles flew out of his chair and grabbed her by the neck. Hunt was shoved back out of the way with his grandfather’s swift moment, ending up on his backside. Startled, but not hurt, he burst into loud sobs.
Charles smelled of alcohol and sweat. His foul breath was in her face, his hand squeezing her neck. “I will not be challenged in my own house,” he snarled. “You will do as I say or I will turn you out. Do you hear me?”
He was hurting her, but more than that, she was angry. “Let go of me,” she hissed. “Have you gone completely mad?”
He struck her, then. Cantia’s head jerked with the force and she could taste the blood in her mouth. Lifting her hand, she was fully prepared to strike back to defend herself when Charles suddenly grunted and fell backwards. Cantia pushed the hair out of her eyes in time to see Tevin descending on the old man, moving in for a mortal blow with his enormously balled fist. She shrieked.
“No,” she grabbed his arm before he could strike again. “Please… no more, not in front of Hunt.”
The little boy was crying loudly on the ground. Cantia went to her son and swept him into her arms, whispering comfort to him as Tevin, exerting the greatest self-control, stepped away from the sprawled old man. His dark eyes were as hard as obsidian as he gazed at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, more concerned for Hunt’s state of mind than her own. But she tasted her blood and wiped at the trickle on her lip. “He did not hurt me.”
Tevin lifted an eyebrow. His entire face was taut with rage, so much so that his flared nostrils were white. He looked back down at Charles, still in a heap on the floor.
“Next time,” he growled at the old man. “I will kill you.”
Hunt wailed louder. Cantia shushed him gently. “Please, my lord,” she said to Tevin. “He… he is not himself. You must make allowances.”
“I make no allowances for a man that would strike a woman,” he said coldly. He stepped around Charles, circling him as a vulture would circle its prey. “You will remove yourself from this keep, Penden. I do not want to see your face again today.”
Charles gazed up at him, his eyes red and unfocused. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and walk unsteadily from the room. He didn’t even look at Cantia. When he was gone, Tevin and Cantia focused on one another.
“What happened that he would do that to you?” he demanded quietly.
Cantia opened her mouth, but the lady knight in the corner spoke first. “She did nothing, Tevin. He attacked her for no reason at all.”
Cantia looked at the lady in the corner. She did not know what to say, ashamed that this stranger should witness such a scene. “He is not himself,” she said with some remorse.
Tevin took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to get a better look at Charles’ handiwork. Her lip was split, but she would heal. He held her face much longer than necessary, simply for the fact that he couldn’t seem to let go.
“Has he done this before?” his voice was low.
She shook her head. “Never,” she replied honestly. “Brac would have.…”
When she refused to finish, Tevin lifted an eyebrow at her. “What would he have done?”
She wasn’t going to answer him, but he shook her chin gently to prod her. Eyes averted, he barely heard her words. “Brac would have killed him,” she whispered.
Tevin let her go. Hunt was calming and she set the boy on his feet, wiped the remainder of his tears, and instructed him to go to the kitchens and get some watered wine for the lady knight. When the boy ran off with the dog close behind, she looked at Tevin.
“Charles was always a gruff, hard man, but he was never cruel,” she said. “I fear that Brac’s passing may have changed him. This madness shows no sign of letting up.”
Tevin put his hands on his hips, his dark eyebrows furrowed for effect. “I’ll not let him take his grief out on you if that is what you mean,” he said. “If I have to lock him in the vault for the safety of you and your son, I shall do it without hesitation.”
“I am sure there will be no more transgressions,
my lord.”
He just stood there, looking at her as if he didn’t believe her. In the corner, the lady knight shifted slightly, grunting when her ribs pained her. It was enough of a noise so that Tevin and Cantia took their attention away from each other and focused on her.
“Are you in pain?” Tevin asked her.
Val tried to shrug, but with a broken collarbone, it was not a simple gesture. “As much as is to be expected, I suppose.”
“I shall bring you more willow bark,” Cantia turned for the door.
“Wait,” Val stopped her. “Though I appreciate your kindness, my lady, that brew makes me exceedingly tired. I find the pain tolerable.”
“As you wish, my la…lady.”
Cantia wasn’t quite sure how to address the lady knight and the room fell into an awkward silence. Tevin lifted his hand in Val’s direction.
“Lady Cantia, this is my sister, the Lady Valeria du Reims,” he introduced them. “I apologize that I am so late with introductions, but it did not seem the appropriate time yesterday. Please know that we are both very grateful for your delicate care of her injuries.”
Cantia dipped her head in Val’s direction. “A pleasure, my lady.”
“My pleasure as well, Lady Penden. And my thanks.”
Cantia gazed at the red haired lady knight, feeling foolish for staring at her and realizing that they both knew that she was staring at her. It wasn’t hard to read her thoughts. Val smiled a toothy grin that was both impish and charming.
“I know, it’s not usual to see a woman in armor,” she said. “Blame my brother. He would swordplay with me as a child and I grew to love it.”
Cantia looked at Tevin, an eyebrow lifted in mock reproach. “You turned this lovely woman into a warrior? How dastardly.”
He pursed his lips, knowing this was a battle he could not win but willing to make the attempt. “Do not believe everything she tells you. I had no hand in this. She would blame me when the truth is that I cannot get rid of her.”
As Val burst out in giggles, Cantia went on the attack, however in jest. “She should be married to a fine lord and have many children about her. Why are you so selfish that you would force her to bear arms? Haven’t you enough men at your disposal that you do not need to force your sister into armed servitude?”
As Val hooted, Tevin threw up his hands as if to defend himself. “My lady, if you have any ideas on how to get my sister out of armor and into feminine garments, I am at your mercy. Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed.”
Cantia fought off a grin, winking at Val as the woman stifled her snorts in her hand. “You are a wicked brother, my lord. See how your sister suffers because of you.”
Tevin, too, was fighting off a grin. He simply shook his head and turned away knowing that any further words from him would only be twisted by Cantia’s humorous tirade. On the other hand, he was perfectly willing to be a target if it would help her forget Charles Penden’s brutality. Moreover, this was the first light moment they’d had since his arrival to Rochester. He was discovering that she had a delightful sense of humor.
Cantia, for her part, had indeed forgotten her cut lip. The levity of the moment was helping her mood for the first time in days. And she was pleased to see that the viscount also possessed a sense of humor, a surprising factor given the man’s warring nature. As he walked away from her, smirking, she found herself admiring his broad back. It was a rather nice back. But the uninvited thought shocked her, sickened her, and she abruptly lost her humor. She suddenly felt very ill at ease, desperate to get out of the room and away from the inappropriate thought that had unexpectedly entered her mind.
“I will fetch your meal, my lady.”
Val watched her nearly run from the room, her own humor fading at the swift departure. She looked at Tevin, who himself had only caught the tail end of Cantia’s garments as she fled from the door. He met Val’s gaze.
“Why did she leave so swiftly?” he asked.
Val shook her head. “I do not know.”
Tevin nodded his head, wondering if he should go after her. Val, not surprisingly, could read it in his eyes. And having known her brother her entire life, she could read something else, something she had never seen before. But just as quickly, she chased those thoughts away. It was impossible. Still…
“Why don’t you go after her,” she suggested, watching his expression carefully. “If we somehow offended her, then we should apologize.”
Tevin didn’t say a word. He merely nodded his head and left the solar. Val sat there for several long moments, entertaining thoughts that she had never before considered. There had never been any need. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her brother held some interest in the lovely, grieving Lady Penden. For Tevin’s sake, she sincerely hoped not.
Tevin caught up to Cantia just as she exited the keep into the kitchen yard. Dogs scattered in front of her and much activity went on all around them. Hunt was running in her direction, splashing the contents of the wooden pitcher he held, and Cantia directed her son to take the liquid to the lady knight. As the boy ran on, Tevin came up beside her.
“Is something amiss, my lady?” he asked.
Startled at his voice, she nearly tripped on her skirts. He had to grab her to keep her from falling. “Nay, my lord,” she said.
“You left rather quickly. We were afraid we had offended you somehow.”
So she had made a fool of herself yet again. Cantia thought she was the only one who had noticed her swift flight. It seemed that all she did was make a fool of herself in front of her liege. Gazing up into his dark eyes, she began to feel extremely foolish.
“Of course you did not,” she said. “You could not possibly do anything to offend me. Even if you did, I would forgive you. But I am truly sorry if I seemed rude or abrupt. I did not mean to.”
Tevin gazed into her beautiful face, feeling a pull he’d never felt before. It was enough to seriously disturb him, for whatever pity or compassion he had been feeling for the lady over the past few days was transforming into something that seemed to be affecting his mind as well as his tongue. He should have fought it with all his strength, but at the moment, he couldn’t seem to. All he knew was that any time he spent with Lady Penden, however brief or trivial or emotional, was unlike any time he’d ever spent before, with anyone.
“Say no more,” he said. “As long as all is well, I shall leave you to your duties.”
She nodded, watching as he excused himself. Cantia stood there a moment, observing his powerful form stroll across the yard and back into the keep. She’d never seen a man move with such strength before, with such commanding presence. It was interesting to compare it to Brac’s presence, which was by far more relaxed and easy. Brac had never radiated the power that Tevin did. It was curious. Turning for the kitchen once again, she went about her business with a good deal on her already-strained mind.
CHAPTER FIVE
Myles had been on duty constantly since Brac’s passing. Though he rode with Viscount Winterton on the second raid to retake the Dartford Crossing Bridge, he’d spent the majority of his time patrolling the walls of Rochester and trying to keep an eye on Charles. With Brac’s passing, Myles would assume what responsibility he could. He owed it to Brac, and to Cantia, to do so.
Now, he was taking a much deserved rest in the knight’s quarters. All of Viscount Winterton’s men had temporary quarters here, and he knew them all from the past years of battle. He knew and liked Simon Horley; the man was fierce, bold and, strangely, thoughtful. John Swantey was also a reputable man that he was comfortable with. Dagan Sutton and Gavril de Reigate were latecomers to the viscount’s corps, having been gifted to the viscount from the Earl of Norfolk for services in battle. They were a quiet pair and he did not know much about them, but he had seen that they were courageous fighters.
Myles sat at the table in the small gathering room of the knight’s quarters, contemplating the last of his wine and thinking he s
hould probably try to get some sleep. But he seriously wondered if he should check on Lady Penden and her son first. Though the lady’s outward grief had not reached the fevered pitch that Charles’ had, still, he could see how devastated she was. Myles knew very well that Cantia and Brac had been fond of each other.
As he contemplated his thoughts, the door to the knight’s quarters flew open and Charles stomped in. Myles looked up to see that the man was in a serious degree of madness, mumbling to himself and looking around the room as he was searching for something. It seemed that he didn’t even see Myles until the knight spoke.
“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”
Charles froze, looking at Myles as if startled to see him. Then he marched straight to him and slammed his hands on the table.
“A weapon,” he growled. “I need a weapon.”
Myles did not like the sound of the request. “Why?”
Charles threw up his arms. “Must everyone disobey me at my own house?” he cried. “Give me your weapon, de Lohr. Give it to me now.”
Myles broadsword was lying on his bed in the next room, thankfully. Myles set his wine down and stood up.
“I am sworn to you, my lord,” he said steadily. “If there is any defending to be done, I will do it in your stead.”
Charles grabbed him as if to shake him, but Myles was too big a man to shake. “I do not defend anything. I will kill him.”
“Kill who?”
Charles’ expression was beyond madness. It was obsession and impulse, blended into an elixir of pure psychosis. “The viscount. He has shamed me. He has killed my son. He must pay.”
Now it was Myles’ turn to grab Charles. “You speak treason, my lord,” he said quietly, firmly. “I will hear no more of this. Should the viscount catch wind of what you have said, it would mean great danger for you and possibly your family. You must keep yourself in check, my lord, or all will be lost. Do you understand me?”