By Possession (39 page)

“She has not changed. She intends to return to London when I am done here.”

Raymond looked over in surprise. “With any other woman I would say that was just talk. You will permit it?”

“I can hardly imprison her.” Not that the thought had not entered his mind.

Raymond grinned. “Get her with child and she will forget such nonsense.”

God knew he'd been trying his damnedest, and only in
part for the bargaining ploy it might give him. He sensed that she hoped for it too, as if a child would be a manifestation of the union they had known. It would continue then, and live on even if they separated forever. When her flux had come last week he had silently shared her disappointment.

Warriors never talked long of women, and Raymond moved on to questions and discussion of the strategies Addis planned. But the whole time he enjoyed the camaraderie of his old friend, a small portion of his mind followed her through the camp. He knew her pattern of activity as surely as he knew his own, and mentally joined her in it every day while the sun relentlessly moved and the men continued to arrive, all of the routines propelling him toward the victory that he both craved and dreaded.

She waited until he had dressed and left the tent the next morning before rising herself. The night had been sweet and touching, just hours of blissful intimacy while they held each other and talked. He spoke of his plans for the next few days but the subject had not mattered so much as the sharing of warmth and words. It had been, she suspected, his man's way of trying to soothe the tensions that had arisen with the arrival first of Raymond and then of Thomas Wake. Yesterday both the past and the future had intruded on their “now.”

Several times last night she had seen that look in his eyes that had appeared more frequently as the days passed. It contained the question that he would not ask and that she could not answer.
Will you really leave and end this?

Her mind still held to her decision, but her heart had been waging a fierce battle against the good sense with which it had been made. In truth she had been ignoring
that anticipated parting so that its shadow would not dim the glory of what they had now. Thomas Wake's arrival had reminded her that the moment would come very soon when her resolve would be put to the test. It would be a specific moment, she did not doubt it. A precise point in time when it was clear she must either leave or walk forward with him.

She put on a simple wool gown and cloak and broke her fast with some bread and cheese. Last night Addis had insisted she sup with him and the others, but she knew that her company, that any woman's company, had become inappropriate. She would make herself scarce today, and use this opportunity to do something she had been planning for some time now.

She brought a basket and stopped at the supply wagons to get a jug of wine, then made her way to the rough corrals where the animals were kept. A groom noticed her and walked over. She explained her requirements. By the time the sun had fully risen she was on her way, heading toward the abbey road in a small cart pulled by a donkey.

It took most of the morning to reach her destination because Addis's army camped in the southernmost reaches of the abbey's lands. She arrived at the village of Whitly just as men came in from the fields for dinner.

Lucas Reeve stepped to his doorway at the sound of her cart pulling up. Delighted surprise lit his eyes. “Joan, it be the lord's woman here!” He tied the reins to a post and helped her down. “Just in time to eat, Moira. Come in and tell us how Sir Addis fares.”

She presented the wine and accepted the place of honor at their humble table, but ate sparingly so Lucas's two sons would not suffer from her unexpected visit. When they learned she had spent the last months in London, they peppered her with questions about the momentous events there.

“Well, now, it seems to me that with the king and his friends gone, these lands will have the lord whom God intended.” Lucas smiled with satisfaction.

“The king's council has returned the estate to Addis, but Simon has not accepted the decision,” Moira explained.

“I'm sure. He's been living like an earl, bleeding the people and the land to feed his luxury. If he hands it all back he is a poor knight again, with nothing. And if there's to be retaliations against the pigs who joined Despenser at the realm's troughs, he is better behind those walls.”

“It explains the word we have gotten from the other villages,” his eldest son said. “That Simon's been calling up those with guard obligations. Must be preparing for a siege.”

Their eyes turned to Moira expectantly.

“It is no secret that Addis will come,” she said. “He told Simon that he would.”

“Aye, but the question is when,” Lucas mused with a grin. “And if you are sitting here now, I find myself wondering where the lord is sitting.”

It was why she had come, but she chose her words carefully. “Not on Barrowburgh lands, but near enough.”

The information raised their excitement. “God be praised,” Lucas muttered. “Has he brought enough? His grandfather built one hell of a fortress there.”

“He says with the likes of Barrowburgh there are never enough.”

“Tell us where he is and every man who can carry a staff will go to him. I served as a pike in the Scot wars and can do so again despite this white hair. Damn, he should have called for us.”

“He will not risk you. If he fails you will be at Simon's mercy.”

“We'd rather die like men than slowly starve. Hell, a fever could take us all tomorrow. Word of the king's fall came weeks ago, and people are itching to have it out with the bastard hiding in that keep. Point us to Sir Addis and by morning there will be hundreds on the road offering to tear those walls down with their bare hands.”

“I cannot tell you. If word spread, Simon would hear and Addis wants his march to be a surprise. But when he comes you will know it, and if word were sent to the other villages …”

“It will be done, Moira. We might not be of much use to him scaling walls and such, but every pair of arms can help and an extra thousand men filling that field will put the fear of god in Simon, which alone makes it worthwhile. Every farmer loading ballast will free a trained soldier for the walls.”

She dipped a crust of bread into her soup. “He does not know that I came here. He might not like my interference.”

He grinned and patted her arm. “None at this table will say anyone told us to prepare. Who is to know that what weapons we have were sharpened in advance? Lords don't count us as whole men in their wars, but we have made the difference before. You are one of us, Moira, and know that even bonded men have rights worth fighting for. “ 'Twill be a fine revenge to stand with Patrick's son, be the result victory or death. He may not expect us or think he needs us, but when we come he'll be glad for it.”

Lucas and his sons began planning for messengers and Moira turned to Joan for simpler conversation. Men began passing the cottage to return to the fields but a sudden commotion of horses disrupted the lane.

Commanding voices called families out of their homes. Everybody at the table silenced and tensed. Lucas peered
around a shutter and cursed. “From Barrowburgh. Six of them, with that red devil Owen at their lead.”

Owen! He might recognize her. She glanced frantically around the small cottage, but there was no place to hide.

“All of Barrowburgh bond out in the lane.” Harsh voices yelled the order over and over. “Out in the lane or your home will be burned.” Joining the commands came sounds of people being pushed and women screaming.

“Stay behind us all, Moira,” Lucas said. “Whatever they want it should be over soon enough.”

He and his sons stepped outside and formed a wall to protect the women. Moira eased into position behind Lucas and kept her eyes lowered. She prayed that she looked like any other serf despite her linen wimple and veil and the fine wool of her gown. With luck none of these men would even see her.

Her throat dried as the lane fell quiet and Owen paced down its length. He stopped in front of their little group, but then Lucas was Barrowburgh's reeve in this village. She glanced quickly at the flaming hair and steely gray eyes and tried to shrink still further into obscurity.

“Good day to you, Sir Owen,” Lucas greeted amiably, as if six knights roused the villagers every day.

“I am come with a message from your lord,” Owen said. “The men in this village are to bring all horses, donkeys, and livestock into Barrowburgh before nightfall. Also any grains left from last year's harvest still stored here.”

“It is an odd request, sir.”

“Not a request at all,” Owen snarled.

“It is not within the customs and obligations—”

Owen's swinging fist cut off his words with an impact that doubled the reeve over his knees. Briefly exposed, Moira lowered her head yet more.

“All that is here is his. Your life is his if he requires it.

Any villager found hoarding will lose the hand that dared to steal from him.”

He spoke to Lucas but the villagers had closed in to listen. A thick circle of watchful eyes peered over the swords holding them back.

Lucas straightened and met Owen's glare. “And what would Sir Simon be wanting with all the grain and animals? Does he plan a feast that will mean the starvation of every man who serves him?”

“His reasons are none of your concern. Worry only about the obedience of your neighbors. As the lord's man here you will be held responsible for seeing it is done.”

“Aye, it will be done. And you are right. I am most definitely the Lord of Barrowburgh's man in this village, and honored to be so counted.”

Moira bit her tongue at the true meaning of that declaration. Lucas's acquiescence eased Owen's belligerence. “By nightfall,” he repeated in a calmer voice.

She could see his boots on the ground. They began to turn away. Holding her breath, she waited with breaking relief for the danger to pass.

He paused. It seemed that Lucas and his eldest son tried imperceptibly to move their bodies closer together. The boots turned back and stepped forward. Heart pounding with renewed fear, she gritted her teeth and prayed to disappear.

The boots stepped closer yet. Lucas and his son were yanked apart, creating a chasm of shrieking peril that she suddenly faced alone. A hand grabbed her chin and jerked until gray eyes peered into her own.

His other hand pulled off her veil so abruptly that the pins flew in the air. An amused smile broke across his hostile face.

“Well, now. I wonder what the Baltic slave princess is doing so far from London and her master.”

It was mid-afternoon before Addis realized Moira was not in the camp. When she did not join him at dinner he had assumed that she had decided to leave the knights to discuss war without a woman present. As was his habit, his eyes had searched for her after that whenever he walked through the camp but she never appeared. He told himself that she prayed at the abbey or visited the sick, but with each hour a gnawing worry grew. It finally led him to the men tending the animals.

There he learned that she had ridden off in the early morning.

Numbness instantly soaked him. Right there in front of the nervous groom his body became a shell devoid of feeling or sensation. The small part of his mind that did not succumb existed separate from any physical awareness.

She would not be back. He just knew it. She had left as she had said she would, but sooner than she had warned.

He had expected to feel anger or pain when it happened, not this horrible vacancy. He stared at the groom, vaguely noting the man's increasing discomfort. His senses scattered and his dulled mind tried to understand why she had not waited the few days remaining.

He should not have left her this morning. He had seen how the presence of Raymond and Thomas Wake unsettled her at last evening's meal and had spent the night trying to soothe her. Both men had been very courteous, but each one stood for something in her mind and he could feel her spiritually withdrawing into the shadows even though she held her smiling composure to the end of the supper.

At least, he thought, both men had been courteous. If he learned that either Raymond or Thomas had said something to hasten her departure, he would kill the man.

Doing so right now would not even raise his blood. Because he had no blood. Or bones. Or substance.

The groom eased his weight from foot to foot, anxious for dismissal. The movement brought him back to some comprehension of where he stood. “Did she take anything with her?”

“Just a basket.”

No trunk or garments. Nay, they were his mother's things. She would not take them with her. Just a basket. Knowing practical Moira, she could live for a month out of a basket.

“Did she say where she headed?”

The groom should have asked, and now he shrank while he shook his head.

Addis strode away and his disembodied legs took him to the top of the hill. He scanned blindly, knowing there was nothing to see anyway. She had been gone for hours. He would send a man to the abbey on the small chance she had gone to speak with the abbot, but he knew she would not be there.

His senses began righting themselves. The parts of his body began reawakening, finding each other. Emotion trickled into the void. He narrowed his eyes and peered toward the road she must have taken.

An unholy fury suddenly split, like lightening streaking to the ground. Not a word. Not a sign. She owed him that, damn it! They owed each other that. Even if she had guessed that he would fight to dissuade her, she owed him the chance to do so. Did she think this was only about her life and her future and her choices?

He grasped on to the anger because he knew the danger of the sea in which it served as a raft. He had felt that numbness before. Recently at Barrowburgh. Once in the Baltic lands. Long ago in dreams remembered only as journeys in despair. Not a tempestuous sea but one of
seductive calm, warm and welcoming, with eddies so soothing it could lull one into an eternal sleep.

He remembered looking down at her before he left the tent in the morning. She had appeared peaceful and serene, her skin luminous beneath the abundant chestnut hair. She had stirred and noticed him there, and held up a limp hand that he kissed.…