Boadicea's Legacy (26 page)

Uncomfortable with such praise, Os crossed one leg over the other.

“I didn't ask why you wanted to retire. Mayhap I should have.”

Os clenched his jaw. “It isn't necessary, my lord.”

“Very well.” The earl scratched the side of his head. “You never asked why I wanted Boadicea's spear.”

“It wasn't my place to know.”

“It saved me from coming up with a lie. Your loyalty is
another reason I chose you instead of anyone else.”

Apprehension rode across his shoulders. He waited.

The earl finally said in a whisper, “I need the spear in the event we go to war.”

His gut roiled like an angry sea. “Against who?”

“Not against, but for … I can't say more now. King John is in France, stirring up trouble for King Phillipe and Hugh le Brun.”

Keeping his mouth shut, Os nodded once to show he was listening. To treason.

“I'll wait to see what happens when he comes back. Richard gave me the office of High Steward of England, and ‘tis England I need to put before all else.”

“What has the spear to do with all of that?”

The earl shifted uneasily on the bench. “You know I like the ladies, Os.”

“Aye.”

“Well, I've had a true love—truer than any other—since I was a boy. She too can trace her roots back to the Iceni tribal days.”

The hair on the back of Os's neck rose. Finally. A connection that made sense.

“Boadicea?”

“Nay. Well, a coz, mayhap, but not as directly as Lady Ela. You were smart to bring her here. My Kailyn is a dream seeker, a seeress, and between the two of them, we should be able to find the spear. She's expecting you tonight.”

Os wasn't certain he wanted Ela to have anything to do
with a seeress … it sounded like another name for witch, and Ela had enough issues with that.

“Whoever holds Boadicea's spear in battle will gain victory over Britain's enemy.”

Since when was the King of England the enemy?

He watched as a page came walking briskly across the hall to the lord's table. The hairs on his neck were now dancing a warning of trouble. Os leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the page.

The boy went directly to Ela and Lady Steffen.

Os stood, not even pretending to listen to the earl speak. Ela turned, smiling at the boy and ruffling the poor lad's hair. Lady Steffen accepted the missive from him with a nod of thanks. She broke the seal.

First curious, then frightened. Her face turned red beneath the white makeup.

Ela said, “Are you all right, my lady?”

The earl rose, shoving Os to the side as he started to run for Lady Steffen.

In slow motion, she fell backward in a faint, the missive falling to the floor as everyone moved forward to catch her.

Ela, bless her, had the presence of mind to grab the missive before kneeling by Lady Steffen's side.

The earl and the lady had been lovers once, if not recently. He watched that awareness come over the countess, from where she oversaw everyone on the dais.

He heard her call for the priest, and he knew, from his years of studying people, that she would never let on that she
knew. The pregnant countess rushed down the stairs to be by her friend's side.

Crossing the floor with giant strides, Os saw Ela gently push people back. She instructed the earl to place Lady Steffen's head in his lap, and she called for wine. Os realized that she was very capable of running her own household.

Would she ever get the opportunity to do so?

Lady Steffen's lashes fluttered; then she opened her eyes. “I'm sorry, Lady Ela. Unless you marry Thomas, he's vowed to burn your family's manor to the ground.”

S
top and listen.” Os held Ela by the shoulders. “If you run off now, you will only get lost in the dark. What if de Havel is setting a trap, hoping to catch you on the road unaware?”

Her green eyes were vibrant and glossy with tears she didn't try to stem. “My family means everything to me. You should know that by now!”

“I do.” He wanted to protect but didn't know where to begin. Slamming his fist against the stone castle wall didn't help, but the sound brought the earl's attention toward him.

The countess ordered the great hall cleared of everyone but Ela, Os, Lady Steffen, and the earl. “If I understand this correctly,” she said with a smile toward her husband, “then Thomas wants Ela. He wants her for her land.”

Lady Steffen nodded, but Os noticed a wary look in her dark eyes.

“Well then,” Countess Ida said as if she were announcing what they were having for dessert, “marry Ela to Osbert.”
What?
Os's left knee buckled, and he sucked in air, as if
someone had punched him in the gut.

The earl's brow lifted as Lady Steffen gasped.

It could never happen
. But it was so close to his darkest desire that he wanted a miracle for himself.

“He has no land,” Lady Steffen said, folding her hands tightly together.

“My husband
, the earl and High Steward of England, promised Osbert land—and I think that the parcel next to the Montehue's piece would be perfect.”

Lady Steffen stood. “But, that was for Thomas.”

“Thomas is now an enemy of England, Lady Steffen—Natalia. He's attacked a citizen and threatened an innocent family.” Countess Ida shrugged as if it were the only way.

Os wondered if hurting her friend eased the ache in the countess's heart.

“I see.” Lady Steffen lifted her chin. “Am I, too, an enemy?”

“Of course not, Natalia.”

Ela slipped next to him, and he felt her tremble as the sleeves of their arms touched.

“If you're already married, Thomas will have to leave you be.” The earl scratched his chin. “And if one of my best knights holds the land there, Thomas won't attack. It is a sound plan, Ida.” The earl leaned over to kiss his wife's cheek. “Let us think over the details, but mayhap it is the solution I need.”

“But … but I …” Ela had lost all color.

Os gulped, knowing that he couldn't look at Ela or he
would lose his resolve. She wanted the freedom to choose, and it was being taken from her. He felt sick as he stepped forward. “I can't marry her.”

Ela shrieked. With hurt or fury, he wasn't sure which. It made his teeth ache to be the one to cause that sound from her.

“Osbert?” The earl quirked a brow. “Man, what is the matter with you? Do you love elsewhere?”

“Nay.” His heart hurt, it was beating so hard against his chest.

“Speak freely! This is your life we are planning. I thought you wanted land …”

“It's the wife he objects to,” Ela cried. She turned on her heel and ran out of the hall, without thought to the wiseness of her actions. The door slammed closed, and the sound echoed.

“Why would she say that? ‘Tis as plain as the nose on your face that you love her.” Countess Ida tilted her head in confusion. “And she obviously has feelings for you, as well.”

“I …” He couldn't explain, not to them, not to Ela and not to himself. “She deserves better than me.” Shame tasted hot at the back of his throat.

“Fool. Men are fools.” Lady Steffen threw her hands in the air. “Gifted with a woman such as that and you make her feel unwanted. You'd better hurry before she never forgives you.”

“I'll have the priest here tomorrow at noon. If you both are here, then you can have the lady. And the land. But they are a package, Os. And having the spear would be
good too. Don't forget to take care of
that
business this eve.”

Os bowed his head, not caring as much about the spear or the land as he did about Ela's feelings. “Aye.”
Feelings
. He left and it wasn't until later that he realized he'd completely neglected his manners. Sir Percy would have flayed him with a wet willow branch if he'd been alive to witness such a lack of courtesy. Emotion led to mistakes, and he couldn't afford to make any more.

Ela buried her face in Bartholomew's mane. She had Henry at her nape and one leg over Bartholomew's back when Os found her.

“You can't escape,” he said with a strangled laugh.

“Oh? I'm so evil that you won't marry me even after you've been ordered to by your liege. I can't change your mind, not about witchcraft or women. What else is there to do? You reject me for everything that I am.”

He stared at her—just that—no words. She shrugged, swallowing back more tears. Who was the imbecile—him, or her—for allowing his cold logic to beat her to the ground? She hefted her chin, ignoring Henry's squeak as he fell back from his perch.

“What? Now you can't speak? Did you create another new vow so that you wouldn't have to talk to me—or explain your rude behavior?” She sat on Bartholomew's back—the goddess Epona from Celtic lore. “You'd best get
out of the way. I'll walk right over the top of you with your own horse.”

Os crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. She found herself ridiculously distracted by the play of muscle along his shoulders. She'd clutched those shoulders tight; she'd held him in her embrace.

And he rejected her. Again. And again.

In front of the earl!

Fresh sobs tore from her throat. If she'd been proud, she was no more.

He reached out and took Bartholomew's reins. “We've been ordered to meet with someone.”

“I am not going anywhere with you.”

“The earl commands it.”

It was her turn to distrust him—she could show him a thing or two about suspicious minds. “Who?”

“The earl's mistress.”

She shut her mouth with a snap. “Not Lady Steffen?”

“A different one.”

“The earl is a pig.”

Os's lips twitched before he grappled with any emotional display and wrestled his mouth into a straight, grim line. “He's my liege, and I promised to help him find the spear. This mistress is an Iceni … witc … seeress.”

He'd been about to say witch. He'd caught himself. To spare her feelings? What did it matter? It was time to protect her own heart before there was nothing left to it but a flat crepe. There was no coming back from a public rejection
such as what had just gone on in the earl's great hall. “I am not going to help you.”

“You wouldn't be helping me. You'd be helping the earl.”

“And what do I care about that?”

“He agreed to stop Thomas from bothering you.”

“By sending him to France for his own mission! And then Thomas threatened my family.”

“Roger will send men. Trust me. Thomas doesn't stand a chance.” He stared at her with those slate-blue eyes and dark golden-blond locks, and for a moment, she hated him as strongly as she loved him.
Cursed spark
.

He was trustable, and his lies were always for her own good, damn him.

Henry jumped from her shoulder across the two feet separating her from Os. Os deftly caught him, and the traitorous polecat chittered at her with his paw out—as if beckoning to her to follow.

She bit the inside of her cheek, determined to stop crying.

“I'm descended from Boadicea. Is this mistress also a descendent? And why didn't you know that she was around? Your mission was to find these things out.”

Os gritted his back teeth so loud she heard his jaw crack. “Nay—just you and your line have the honor of blood descendent. And I believed my liege when he told me that there was nothing to be had here. I wasted a lot of time picking through old stories and secrets.”

“Humph. Well, that means that there must be much to find here. I wonder what he hoped to prove by giving you
the bare facts?”

Os turned, leading Bartholomew and his passengers from the stables. “Come with me. Let's find out. And as angry as you are with me, I know you must be curious to meet another member of the Iceni. Think of the stories you'll be able to tell.”

“I just want to hear the ones she has to share. We can get that spear, and I can be done with you—and your honor. What does the earl want with it, anyway?”

Os tightened his lips. Shrugged. Turned his back so that he was leading her and she couldn't see his face.

“Coward,” she mumbled toward his back. Since he wouldn't fight with her, she kept her mouth shut and her other opinions to herself. He took her across the bridge, past the gates to the castle, and into the area of shops that she'd admired just earlier that day.

No wonder she was so tired—it seemed three lifetimes ago.

They turned right from the main street and down a cobbled road. The houses showed the affluence of their owners, starting out whitewashed and trimmed, then turning to stone and mortar, until they finally were in a block of simple single-story wood residences.

“This is where the earl hides his mistress? I'd always thought that a lover's life would be more glamorous.”