Boadicea's Legacy (40 page)

He kissed her, his breath slowing at last. “Whatever you want, you may have it, my lady Ela.”

She smiled into the warm hollow of his shoulder. “I have you.”

Sometime later they were downstairs in the hall of the keep when they heard the sounds of hooves riding toward them. Ela went outside and shielded her eyes. “Finally,” she said. “‘Tis the others.”

They walked hand in hand down the embankment. “This
was probably a moat once,” Os said. Although Ela knew from the old man that she and Os had once made a home here, she had no memory of it. It seemed that neither did he.

She wondered why they were sent to live life after life if they couldn't remember what they'd done wrong—or right—in the past ones. The Gods of Old had been capricious, and Ela accepted that she might never know or understand.

Albric, Warin, and St. Germaine led the pack of five other knights. She felt Os stiffen beside her and wondered at his reaction.

Henry sat on Albric's shoulder. Ela didn't like it but admitted to herself that she might still be bearing a grudge for his trying to say she killed Lady Steffen. Henry was a decent judge of human character.

Or he had been. Mayhap Albric had tempted him with nuts.

“We were worried we'd never find ye, my lord,” Warin said sourly.

“If it weren't for Henry here, we would have ridden right past this place. Feels spooky, eh?”

“Albric, we talked about letting superstition rule your mind, didn't we?” Os shook his head. “This is our home now, and we must bring it to life.”

St. Germaine agreed. “Yea. ‘Tis like it's been sleeping.”

Ela clapped her hands. “Perfectly said, St. Germaine. And we will wake it up. We haven't searched behind the keep. Shall we?”

“What's it like inside?” Warin gestured to the keep on the mound.

“There is a hall, as we enter, and a second floor with three chambers, and a solar overlooking the trees here in the front. One of the rooms was filled with furniture—I hope that it will be enough for us to have something to sit on this eve.”

Albric gallantly offered his saddle, then blushed. Ela touched his arm in thanks, trying not to laugh. She sensed a small bit of fear remaining in him and a lot of embarrassment in his feelings toward her.

“The kitchen is separated by a walled open-air hall. We shall make do with the hands we have now,” she held up her own and nodded at each of the knights, “and mayhap by next week we will have servants. We must find them first.”

“There's not a lot of bustle, is there?” Warin walked forward to catch up with Os, who was already halfway around the mound.

“Here, my lady.” Albric handed Henry to Ela. He took his paws and rested them on each side of her face, demanding her attention. Looking into her eyes, Henry chittered what felt like his approval.

“What's he sayin', me lady?” Albric's brown eyes were as wide as chestnuts.

Henry jumped away and ran across the overgrown grass after Os.

Ela exhaled. “I have no idea. But he seemed to mean it, eh?”

Albric laughed, and Ela felt the tension between them ebb. “I had a puppy once who looked at me like that. Don't think he ever realized he wasn't a human.” Albric called to
the other knights to dismount. “Hurry up, knaves. There's work to be done, and ye can't rest on yer arses. Move it!”

Ela covered her mouth to hide her smile, and when Albric graciously offered his arm, she took it. St. Germaine flanked her other side, and they caught up with her husband.

He was like a boy, walking fast—he would never run—from one structure to the next. There was a huge stable with individual stalls. “It's got a good roof on it, Ela,” he called. Then he went to the blacksmith shed and the leather makers. “We'll need skilled peasants—freedmen, mayhap?” His smile as he drew water from a creaky well made her insides glow.

The old-fashioned palisades around their home fit the place. Os informed her that there were one or two logs that needed to be replaced, but that he had no intention of tearing the palisade down. “We've room for goats, aye, and horses and pigs and chickens …”

Completely forgetting himself, he hugged her close. “Home.”

His men whistled, and he shoved her from him harder than he intended. She saw that he was sorry in his expression, but understood when he didn't apologize. A man ruled other men with a leather fist.

She was happy. Blessed. As if she and Os had switched temperaments, she grew suspicious of being so happy … it couldn't last.

Ela shook off the foreboding and went inside to sort furniture.

She was pulling out a three-legged stool when she heard
a voice.
Find Boadicea's spear.

But where is it?

You have it. You must hide it before the enemies of Britain steal it.

Who?

France. King Philippe and Arthur. Arthur must not have the throne
.

Ela thought back to the Earl of Norfolk's comments. Would he support Arthur against John as king? She rubbed the chills from her arms. She'd wondered what could happen to break the union of love between her and Os.

It had happened before.

He'd believed the Romans would win.

What if this time he chose his liege? Against England's rightful king? She dropped to her knees in her fear. Are we destined to disappoint one another forever?

This is your last chance
.

“This is the tower. What is it? Three miles from the keep? No wonder we didn't see it. By God's bones, there's the main road!” Os rubbed his chin. “I hadn't realized we were so lost.”

He wouldn't think about the old man in the keep, either, or where he'd disappeared to.

Not that he was afraid. But it was hard to protect his wife against things he didn't understand.

“Some tower. Burnt almost to the ground, except for that one side wall,” Warin pointed to the jagged black wood. “Looks like his men lived in these huts—hardly better than tents.”

Os studied the haphazard housing. “He wasn't here long. Looks like he wasn't planning to stay either.” He probably thought to move into—or take over—Montehue Manor.

His wife had no idea how close her impetuous nature had come to ruining the one thing she loved most—her family. Her plan to marry Thomas to keep her family safe from King John's avarice was an emotional leap that would have landed her directly in the bowels of hell.

I saved her from you, you sodding bastard
. He grinned at the charred shell of tower. Thomas de Havel had played on Ela's tender heartstrings. No doubt Lady Steffen had researched for vacant properties by charming a clerk—then she'd studied who lived in the area and found that the Montehues had an unmarried daughter and were vocal against John in their support of Richard. It would have given her, and Thomas, leverage.

Os shook his head.

It wasn't that difficult to fool unsuspecting people with good natures.

But Os suspected everybody. And from what information he'd gleaned, John wasn't overly fond of his dead brother Geoffrey's bastard, Thomas. Os almost felt sorry for the rotten cur, imagining the reception he'd get upon arrival in France. John might just take his head off and toss
it to the wolves.

Who would know?
And who would care?

“What are you thinking, Os?” Warin punched him in the arm. “You looked ready to kill.”

“I swore I was tired of battle, but if Thomas de Havel ever sets one foot on this land again, I will gladly run him through. Now,” Os exhaled, then marched across to the huts. “We will tear these down and build better, closer to the keep. I want the tower razed flat to the ground and the road to the keep cleared. I will make a sign. Edyvean.” He rubbed his hands together.

Warin slapped him on the back. “We'll get to it,” he said. “But we'll need more men.”

“Aye. Where to start? We are secluded here.” Os gestured to the open fields.

“I'll take one of the new knights, and we'll find a village or town. We'll put out the word.”

“Bless you, Warin. There is so much to do, ‘tis hard to think.”

“Where are ye goin'?” St. Germaine asked. His muscled bulk blocked the sun.

“Warin is going to try and find us men. We'll need many hands to get this home self-sufficient. I haven't even thought about food.” Os rubbed at the tension between his brows, but it didn't work the same as when Ela touched him there.

Or anywhere.

“I'll go too.”

“Leave Albric then, so that I have at least one trained knight, eh?” Os leaned down and picked up a handful of soil. Ela was right—there was power in the earth. Even he could feel it.

T
he morning sun shining in through her window roused Ela from the comfort of her large feather bed. She sat up and plumped her pillows, stretching from her toes to her neck. Had it already been two weeks since they'd arrived? Where had the time gone?

She'd made love with her husband, learned to cook something besides pottage, and hired servants. Wiggling her toes, she'd never dreamed she'd be so happy as lady of the keep. It helped that her husband encouraged her outdoor activities too—like archery practice. She'd shown Albric how to improve his knife toss. Her greatest failure was the herb garden.

Her parents had already been to visit twice, each time bringing more things that would make her house a home. They'd even brought Bertha, which made Henry very happy. Ela glanced over at the tapestry hanging on the wall—Boadicea and her daughters. In the picture, Boadicea was carrying the spear and wearing the gold torc from Ela's dream.

She whistled to herself, recalling the apprehension and pride she'd felt as her parents rode down the newly raked road leading to Edyvean, pulling a wagon behind them. She and Os had met them at the steps of the keep, her toe tapping nervously while Os rubbed his stress furrow. “Will your parents forgive me for marrying you without their consent?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, her fingers crossed in hope.

Her mother's posture was perfect, her red hair barely peeping beneath the fashionable hat she wore. Her father's wild blond mane had more gray in it.

They were both fine
.

She'd burst into tears, and her mother joined her, until soon everyone was hugging and crying and laughing all at once. Her father had blustered and clapped Os a lot on the back. “Anybody would be better than Thomas, but I rather like you.”

“Did you find the spear?” Deirdre had asked, her hands clasped with Ela's.

“Nay, but I met an Iceni seeress who saw my dreams.”

“What did she look like? Did she have tattoos and bones in her hair?” Deirdre's green eyes sparkled at the thought.

“No. I was disappointed too. But Kailyn is lovely. She explained that whoever holds Andraste's spear—”

“Who the hell is Andraste?” Robert had tossed his hands to the side, the way he did when he was exasperated. “Never heard of her.”

“Andraste is an ancient British goddess of war—it was
who Boadicea prayed to. Human sacrifices.” Ela smiled as she remembered her father turning pale.

“This spear is very powerful, and whoever holds it in battle will win.” She'd taken Os's hand in hers, deciding not to tell the story of how he had lost the battle for Britain a millennia ago. He'd thanked her for her discretion after her parents had gone home—very nicely. She hummed.

The door to her chamber opened, and Os stalked in, his dark blond hair streaked with gold from his hours outdoors. “And what are you humming about? Lazybones—I've been up and working since dawn.”

Os jumped on the bed and kissed her bare shoulder.

“You've been working hard, and I've been dreaming the morning away.”

He took a red curl and wrapped it around his finger, laying his head across her belly. She stroked his hair and smiled. “Dreaming of what the keep will be like with the sound of children running through it.”