By Possession (21 page)

Saints help her, she almost released her hold on the wool. “I will not invite what I have just rejected.”

“Should I command you as your lord so that you can blame your compliance on obedience instead of desire?”

A little flare of resentment reinflamed her prudence. “I am grateful to you for reminding me of who we both
are, my lord. As I once said, I forget it at my peril. The free woman foolishly succumbed, but the bondwoman will not.”

“They are the same person.”

“Nay, they are not to my eyes. I do not deny that I felt the sweetest pleasure with you. But the heaven that you offer is a form of hell, especially with such chains attached. You have bound me to you with an oath and submission that I cannot undo, but it will not be as you think. Unless you force me, it will not be so.”

She really thought that he was going to come and test the truth of her brave words. Tension shrieked between them and her body responded in a shocking way that said the future was out of her hands because if he crossed that space there would be little forcing to it.

He turned away and she almost collapsed with relief. “Then let us both pray that I learned continence in the Baltic as well as I thought, Moira. Take some garments and leave now.”

She heard a warning in his order and did not wait for another. Plucking the linen robe from the chest, she hurried from the chamber. The last vestige of strength deserted her on the steps. She clutched the wall, struggling to choke down the sob strangling her throat.

She did not see much of Addis the next few days. He left the house early with Sir Richard to ride to Westminster in daily missions to see the king. Sometimes they did not even return for the midday meal, and she and Jane and Henry would take their dinner alone at a table in the cavernous hall while they rested from the day's chores.

They worked sunrise to dusk. Jane and she scrubbed all the chambers and laid down new rushes. She and Henry managed to mend the holes in the stable's roof and patch
and whitewash the plaster on the buildings, but the stone wall and hearth needed a craftsman's hand. She decided to delay asking Addis for the coin since his time at Westminster usually left him angry and silent. He did not speak of those visits with anyone except Sir Richard, but she knew from his mood that they were not going well.

The house had four chambers besides the solar. For her own space she took a tiny one on the first level, far from where Addis slept. Sir Richard had retrieved her cart and she set the few belongings along the walls. Her labors exhausted her sufficiently that sleep claimed her instantly when she retired. She was grateful for that. It would have been horrible to lie there thinking about the man above debating his options regarding Barrowburgh and Simon and all the rest.

A week after their arrival he returned from Westminster in time for dinner. He entered the kitchen with Richard, looking for some ale.

“He avoids it, I say,” Richard remarked, continuing a conversation as if she were not present.

“Perhaps. Or he has never been told.”

“Do you believe that? You go and wait every day for a week and the man does not even know you are there? You are not some bachelor knight whom his clerks can ignore.”

“The Despensers and their people are thick around him, like circles of walls guarding a keep. I think that none enter the gates unless that family permits it. If Hugh Despenser is Simon's friend I may rot sitting in that anteroom.”

Richard shook his head. “Fine thing we have in this realm, if the son of Patrick de Valence …”

“It is because I am the son that I will rot. Who knows what stories Hugh poured in Edward's ears when he arranged for Simon to get Barrowburgh? Who knows if
Edward is even aware it has happened? It is said he has no love for governance, that he prefers tilling soil like a yeoman and rowing on the fens to attending to state.”

“Fine thing we have in this realm …” Richard muttered again with disgust.

“I will have to find another way to meet with him, that is all.”

“Impossible if those gates are manned as you say.”

“I must find a way for the king to order them opened.”

“You could petition when the next parliament meets.”

“I will not wait on a parliament. I will know where Edward stands before then.”

Moira and Jane hustled to lay down the meal in the hall. Addis and Richard sat with them, continuing their conversation at one end of the table. Moira munched her bread and salmon stew and examined the luminous walls of the chamber. She and Henry had finished painting it this morning and it gleamed fresh and clean. She doubted that Addis had noticed the changes in the property.

“There is a tournament seven days hence,” Addis mused.

“Edward seeks to appease the barons with sport and a large purse. Stupid, if you ask me. A chance for like-minded men to meet.”

“But under his eye and with the Despensers' spies everywhere. Not so stupid maybe.”

“Think you of entering?”

“I have already done so.”

“Will be good sport, but all for naught if you don't win. You'll just be one of a score of combatants then. Even if you are the champion, there's no saying it will get Ed-ward's attention. He does not care much for weaponry, and will pay little mind even if he is present. Once the pageantry is over he will most likely nap.”

“If the king enjoys pageantry, then perhaps one should try and get his attention during the pageant,” Moira interjected.

“Oh, aye,” Richard mocked. “There will be riches aplenty displayed, girl. A royal tournament is not some country melee. The knights bring their finest garments and gold-painted armor and long retinues of squires and grooms. The Pope himself would get lost in such a fete, and Addis has not even a squire to lead his destrier.”

“Then perhaps one should not compete with such richness,” she said. “Perhaps simplicity is the way to stand out. Or novelty.”

“You suggest that if I ride in that pageant dressed like a simple knight the king will notice? I think not,” Addis said.

“Not as a simple knight. As a Baltic crusader.”

Addis looked quizzically across at Richard. The old steward shrugged. “Could work, couldn't it? Men always talk of joining the crusade but never do. There is prestige and glory in it, and stories of adventure to be told. Edward may be intrigued.”

“The question is, how do I show that I am such a man?”

Moira learned the answer the next day when Addis sent Henry to fetch her to the solar. She found him standing near the bed, wearing the buckskin garments that he had not put on since Barrowburgh. Colorful cloth was strewn around the chamber. She recognized the silks and wools from his mother's chest.

He lifted a red surcotte. “You have not used them as I told you.”

“I took some of the simpler things. One does not clean stables wearing velvet.”

His jaw twitched. “You should not be cleaning stables.”

“If not me, who? Henry is too old to do it all himself. Please, my lord, enough of this. Serfs work, it is why lords have us. Now, is there some way that I can serve you?”

The red silk flowed from his fist. “I do not need you to serve me, but to help me. You suggested that novelty might gain the king's attention. When I attend the tournament, I will be very novel indeed. A knight dressed like a barbarian should at least raise some talk and speculation.”

“You will go thus?”

“Aye. Richard has honored me by offering to carry my weapons, but I need someone to lead my horse.” He raised in question the scarred eyebrow.

“Will ladies be doing so for the others?”

“Not this time. More novelty.”

“I am no lady and all will know it. I will look a fool, as will you.”

“You will look beautiful, and when we are done you will look exotic as well. It will be a spectacle that the king cannot ignore.” He thrust out the silk. “Put this on, Moira.”

She took the garment and held it up. She had no intention of changing her clothes in front of him. “ 'Tis not a gown, but only a surcotte.”

“Aye. No sleeves. The daughters of the
bajorai
dress thus in warm months.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Your hair unbound, I think. You will cut some of the amber from this tunic to make a headdress to hang across your forehead.”

She would appear more barbaric than he. Most likely she would look like a war prize brought home by the conquering crusader.

“Will you do it?”

When she proposed the idea she never thought to be asked to play a part in it. Still, it might work and get him
an audience with the king. Until that happened things were at a stalemate, for Addis would never move independently until he knew for certain that Edward had abandoned his family.

“I will do it.”

He stepped forward and slid the gold armlets off, then took her hands and pushed one, then the other, far up her arms. “You will wear these as well.”

She gazed down at the thick bands etched with intertwining serpents. Pagan images on barbaric gold. Their worth would support her longer than the ruby if she disappeared during the tournament. It disturbed her to realize that he believed her sworn oath enough to trust her with them. “They are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

“The daughter of a priest gave them to me.”

Not a Christian priest if he had a daughter. He had said he was enslaved by a
kunigas.
That man's daughter then.

“She helped me to escape,” he added.

The meaning of the gold bands seemed very clear. “She must have loved you very much.”

“The daughter of a
kunigas
cannot love a Christian slave.”

She lifted the silk surcotte from his hands. He stripped off his tunic so that she could take it to cut the amber. He looked very primitive suddenly with the buckskin sheathing his legs and his bronze chest bared. The long scar marked him like a painted line worn to increase his fierce appearance.

The priest's daughter had seen him thus every day. Had they been lovers? He spoke of continence learned in the Baltic, not abstinence. She felt a peculiar jealousy toward that unknown woman, but also deep gratitude that he had not been completely alone during those long years.

Memories of their reunion and journey, of that day
near the lake when she last saw him thus, invaded her. The flat muscles of his chest, the sinewy strength of his arms, the cords of his abdomen … she realized that she was looking at him too long, and that he had noticed. A warmth glimmered in his eyes, inviting her, nay, daring her, to reach out and touch the body a hand span away.

“I will try to look as barbaric as possible,” she muttered, turning away from him and temptation. So easy to misunderstand the meaning of passion. A woman's soul yearned to do so. Men had probably exploited that since time began.

He was right. The daughter of a
kunigas
cannot love a Christian slave. And the son of an English baron cannot love a serf.

CHAPTER 11

A
DDIS DUCKED THROUGH
the threshold of the tavern and surveyed the throng of pilgrims. Ale had been flowing for several hours this hot evening. The crowd of petitioners heading to the tomb of St. Thomas at Canterbury had long ago drowned the restraints of their disparate degrees and collected into a noisy, high-spirited party.

He walked over to the keg. The man guarding it thrust a crockery cup into his hands. “Two pence.”

Addis paid. “I am looking for a woman. I was told that she lives and works here. Her name is Alice. I wish to speak with her. It is worth her time.”

“She be in back, through that door there, washing.”

He carried his ale to the back chamber. A stout woman bent over a tub of murky water, swishing cups and mugs. Heavy dark brows bridged a prominent nose. Wisps of black hair escaped her kerchief. It had taken Richard almost a week to track her down amidst the taverns of Southwark.

She straightened and turned and peered at him. He moved closer to one of the candles lighting the chamber. Shock widened her eyes.

She crossed herself three times in a row. “Holy Mother!”

“I am not a ghost, Alice.”

“Holy Mother!”

“I wish some time with you.”

She backed away. “I have been here the year and a day!”

“I do not seek to return you to Hawkesford, but if I did you could have lived here ten years and it would not matter once you were back there.” He let the threat sink in, then set a silver mark down on a table next to the candle.

“I don't do that anymore. I have a man now, and he wouldn't like it. There's women out in the tavern though.…”

“I only wish to talk.”

She made a face indicating that sounded most peculiar to her. Addis settled himself on a stool and after a cautious hesitation she took another one.

“You left Hawkesford after Claire died?”

“Seemed as good a time as any. My cousin had gone some years before and I knew he was here. Raymond is not a bad lord, but with Claire gone I wouldn't be serving a lady anymore, just be one of the regular women again, so I left.”

“You were present at Bernard's death?”

“Aye. Claire had gone home to see him before he passed. I traveled with her from Barrowburgh.”