Candle in the Window (39 page)

“Why should I?”

“These stairs wind around the wall to give
the advantage to the right-handed swordsman who defends from the
top. You see? I’m right-handed.” William swished his
blade with exultant freedom. “I’m at the top. So I have
the advantage.”

Nicholas grinned, his teeth brown and stubbled.
“I am left-handed, and thus a hard man to fight.” He
also swished his blade, free from the need to watch the wall.
“So I have the advantage.”

“Left-handed because of a broken arm,”
William remembered. “Perhaps if you’d practiced more as
a squire.”

He shrugged, a bit of elegance, and Nicholas lunged
at him.

William easily moved aside. “Practicing
now?” he asked, bored.

Nicholas halted, breathing hard, thinking hard.
Sliding down a few steps, he mocked, “I’d be respectful
if I were you. The last time I practiced on you, you were blind for
months.”

“
You
struck the
blow?” Astonished, William thought about it and then shook
his head. “Nay. You weren’t even in that
battle.”

“You fought that battle because of me. I did
it. I did it all.”

The ring of pride in his voice forced William to
evaluate his scorn. “How so?”

“I urged your neighbor, what was his
name?”

“Sir Donnell.”

“I told that old fool Sir Donnell that you
were involved elsewhere, that he could take that land of yours, and
by the time you discovered it, it would be accomplished. I knew
you’d come running, I knew you’d attack, and I knew I
could wear a helmet that guarded my whole face.”

“’Tis difficult to fight in a helmet
that so diminishes your vision,” William commented, not yet
convinced.

“I didn’t fight. I just rode up behind
you and—”

“You
don’t
fight. You play dirty, underhanded, treacherous games.”

“Games where the forfeit is death.”

Moving with well-oiled speed, William reached in
and slashed Nicholas on the wrist that held the sword. He stepped
back with insulting ease and watched as Nicholas stood and shook
the drops of blood from his hand. “You’re playing my
game now,” William pointed out softly.

Nicholas recovered his wits and made an attack of
his own.
“Who commands the troops that
unfairly besiege me? Not your father. I never heard his braying
voice nor saw him from the arrow slits.”

“If you’d ceased your cowering and come
into the light, you’d have seen my father. And Raymond,
too.”

“Raymond!” Nicholas shouted, his face
mottling. “Raymond! That traitor. He was willing to kill you
for a cut of your lands, but when the tide turns he bellies up like
a dead fish.”

“Raymond would never kill me.” William
spoke with the same assurance he always used. “Raymond is my
friend.”

“And Charles?” The note of evil
amusement crept into Nicholas’s voice. “Did you see
Charles in my bailey? Is Charles your friend?”

“He wasn’t there.” William
thought about that. “I wonder what happened to
Charles.”

“He lies under a gorse bush and bleeds and
dies,” Nicholas said harshly. “I know all. I know
everything. I know you sent him to tell your father to rescue you.
I arranged a little accident for Charles.”

With a shout, William leaped at him. He slipped
under his guard, cutting a slice into his cheek and then jumped
over Nicholas’s swing like a boy with a jump rope. He backed
up the stairs out of reach, and counseled, “Hold that sword a
little higher. Didn’t my father teach you any better than
that?”

Tight-lipped with pain, Nicholas snarled, “He
taught me never to fall for the same trick twice.”

“I don’t know how you can help it.
That’s a man’s sword you carry, and you haven’t
the muscles to fight with it.” Studying the agony that marred
his enemy’s face, he asked, “Is that the first time
you’ve been blooded, dear boy?”

The trickle of red dripped off Nicholas’s
chin and matched the fiery glare of his eyes. “On my face,
you bastard.”

Nicholas came up the stairs after him, sword
clenched firm by fury, and William backed up with slow
deliberation. “Don’t worry about your face,”
William said softly. “You won’t be needing it any
more.” That checked the forward advance, and William
chuckled. “Didn’t you find what you sought in the
dungeon?”

“How did you know I’d been down in the
dungeon?” Nicholas asked.

“Where else would a spineless worm find his
pass to freedom?”

“I should have known better than to trust
that bitch you call your wife.” He stepped back. Awkward with
the weight of chain mail, he tipped back, waving his arms for
balance, and righted himself.

William waited, watching with a seasoned gaze.
“Trust her?”

“Asking me not to put you in with her when
she knew you’d find a way out.” He spat off the edge of
the stair into the air.

“I’d find a way out?” William
said incredulously. “You have it wrong, dear boy. Saura found
the way out of your impregnable prison, not I. All I did was push
the damned stone aside, and that only with her help.”

“I see you managed to leave Bronnie behind,
like a used rag.”

“He’s injured,” William snapped.
“You injured him.”

“But I thought any man of exalted honor would
find a way to save the boy from certain death. You certainly
bandaged him well. It seemed almost a shame to pull my knife and
slit his—”

This time Nicholas was prepared for the swing. He
parried
and drove his blade at William’s
heart, but William faded beneath the attack. Nicholas had the
satisfaction of knowing he’d met flesh, for the tip had
caught, but the vexation of realizing William fought like a
wraith.

William wiped the drop of blood from his chest.
“Saura’s going to be very upset at you, Nicholas. She
liked that boy.”

“She’ll be more upset when I’ve
killed you.”

“I wait here with no shield, no armor, no
helmet.” William spread his arms wide, expanding into the
space around him. “You have the advantage, you say, but you
don’t attack.”

“I’ve beaten you in every battle
we’ve fought.”

“Talk, talk.”

“I have!”

“Only because I didn’t know we were
fighting.” William gripped the short blade, tip up, its point
a dim spark of menace.

“I’ll always win these kinds of
fights.” Nicholas smiled in a sneering triumph.

“Nay. You’ve forgotten the first rule
of combat.”

“What’s that?”

With creeping caution, Nicholas moved closer, and
William’s eyes glinted in pleasure. He smiled in invitation
like an overconfident youth, but his heel seemed to slip off the
step. His arms flailed madly, he danced to recover, and with a cry
of triumph Nicholas lunged at him. With lightning reflexes,
William’s sword streaked up and speared Nicholas between the
chin and neck. Blood gushed as he jerked his sword back. Nicholas
teetered there for one ghastly moment before he crumpled and rolled
with increasing speed down the stairs to the cold stone floor.

Serious now, William followed him down and checked
the eyes that stared with the true blindness of death. “The
first rule of combat, Nicholas. Do you remember it now?
Battles
are fought to
win
.” Still staring at the lifeless body, he wiped his
sword and thrust it into his belt.

Turning away, he strode to the open door of the
dungeon and peered down. He could see nothing, hear no sound of
life, and he sighed. Lifting a torch from the sconce on the wall,
he waved it down the hole. Deep in the earth, he could see the
outline of Bronnie, dark against the white chalk. The man lay still
as death; William knew he was dead, but he could never go back to
Saura and tell her he hadn’t tried to rouse him. He yelled,
“Bronnie! Lady Saura needs you!”

Nothing. It was as silent as a tomb.

“Bronnie! Fire’s destroying the castle.
We need help.”

Nothing.

“Bronnie! Lady Saura wants you to come and
live with us and be her serving man.”

Reviving like a knight offered the Holy Grail,
Bronnie sat straight up. “M’lady wants
me…t’ wait on her?”

Startled, William dropped the torch down and it
illuminated the man where he sat. Bronnie rubbed his shoulder and
looked vacant with delight, but clearly it took more than a fall to
rout him. “Aye, Bronnie, the lady wants you to wait on
her.”

William sighed, stood, and dusted his hands,
muttering “Somehow I knew it would be too easy if Nicholas
had slit your throat.”

He started toward the stairs only to hear the click
of claws coming down. “Bula,” he said, more glad to see
the great dog than he believed possible. “Well met, my
friend.”

The animal stopped at Nicholas’s side and
sniffed, and then with seeming contempt leaped over him and trotted
to William. William smoothed Bula’s head and found a dozen
tiny cuts. Dropping to his knees, William examined the dog from ear
to toe. A huge swelling over one eye almost closed
it. “Did Nicholas believe this would kill
you?” he marveled. Bula winced beneath William’s
probing fingers, but the lump rested on the hardest part of the
dog’s stout skull. “If your performance above stairs
was anything to judge by, it’s clear you weren’t even
seriously injured.” Dried blood matted Bula’s hair here
and there where he had been nicked with a sword, but nowhere was
there any great wound. “To think we believed you were a
coward.” William patted him firmly. “You just waited
until you could fight for someone you loved. Bula, my boy, your
beauty will return and until then, you’ll be the most
pampered creature at Burke.”

Bula whined and nosed his master’s cheek, and
as William rose he heard, “Are you there? William?” The
shout echoed down from the great hall, and Bula responded as if he
had been hailed. He bounded up the spiral stairway and the
still-unseen caller scolded, “Damned dog,” as he
whirled past.

William roared, “Raymond?” He stared up
through the gloom and spied his comrade, halfway up the stair and
peering around the corner. With lightened heart, he stepped over
Nicholas and sprang up to his friend. “You’re the best
sight my eyes have feasted on for the last three hours.”

Raymond laughed and grasped his outstretched hand.
“You must have Saura hidden somewhere—she’s the
feast you prefer.”

“You’ve divined my secret,”
William admitted.

Peering over William’s shoulder, Raymond
shook his head sadly. “Nicholas?” he asked, nodding at
the body lying in sprawled repose at the bottom of the steps.

“Aye.” William turned to look back down
to the stones where his secret enemy lay, exposed in his falsehoods
and vanquished. “He died with a sword in his hand.”

He looked at Raymond and smiled grimly, and Raymond
nodded in condolence and congratulation. “If anyone could
ever persuade him to take up a sword,
’tis you.” Edging around to stand below William,
Raymond put a hand on his friend’s back and pushed him toward
the great hall, but William seemed to have grown roots where he
stood.

“’Tis such a waste,” William
mourned. “He could have been the greatest man in England,
chancellor to the king. He was richer than you, craftier than I,
and he lies dead with not a soul to mourn him.”

“He forced you to kill him. As the twig is
bent, so grows the tree, and Nicholas had been bent the first time
I met him. You’re not to blame yourself for his death,”
Raymond admonished.

William faced him and glared. “I’m not
such a fool as to lose sleep over it.” He marched ahead and
they climbed the steps single file. On the landing, he paused.
Without turning, he instructed, “Make sure a priest is sent
down, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Raymond slapped his
shoulder, holding it with an understanding grip. “Of course,
I’ll see to it.”

“And for the sake of my soul, see that
someone gets that idiot Bronnie out of the dungeon.” He swung
on Raymond. “I’ve sworn to care for the boy as if he
were my kin.” Before Raymond could question his droll
resignation, he added, “That reminds me, is my father
well?”

“He’s fine,” Raymond assured
him.

“Are you well?”

“I can’t complain.”

They reached the great hall, and William turned to
see a broad smile on Raymond’s face. “Then why
didn’t you command the attack? Why didn’t my
father?”

“Come. Let me show you.”

Raymond took his arm and led him to
the strange knight who stood talking to Lord Peter. Lord Peter saw
them approaching and he smiled the same satisfied smile that
Raymond wore. Touching the stranger’s shoulder, he directed
his attention to William. The stranger immediately stepped forward
to meet them, his stride broad, his manner vigorous.

Watching him, William was struck by the majesty
that tempered the air of friendliness. He glanced at Raymond and
saw awe, glanced at his father and saw approval. “Duke
Henry,” he guessed, but it wasn’t really a guess.
“Nay, it’s Prince Henry, now.”

“Quite right, Lord William.” Prince
Henry grinned as he reached them, stopping William’s bow with
a sweep of his arm. “Please, let’s save the formality
for the court. I’m delighted to meet you. All I’ve
heard since we left Burke is William this, William that. I’m
pleased to see your stature is not a giant’s, as I’ve
been led to believe.”

“My father exaggerates, my lord.”

Prince Henry bent a look of amused inquiry at his
new subject. “Raymond sings your praises, too. Does he
exaggerate, as well?”

William grinned back with full-bodied enjoyment.
“I hope not, Lord, for he sings your praises,
also.”

Slapping his hands on his ribs, Prince Henry leaned
his head back and bellowed with laughter. William followed him, his
own amusement combining with his prince’s to shake the
rafters. Unable to restrain themselves, Lord Peter and Raymond
laughed, also, as did the men who trickled in from the battle. Bula
barked and circled them, herding them closer.

At last, Prince Henry wiped his eyes.
“We’ll deal well together, William. You’ll have
to come to London when I’m in residence. Bring your
wife.”

“Saura!” William straightened at once.
“God’s teeth, I must—”

“There’s going to be a new order in
England,” Prince Henry boomed, “and a place for honest
men like you.”

“Thank you, my lord. I look forward to
that.” William bowed slightly. “Now, I
must—”

“A new order! Of course, I’m not the
king of England yet, but with the succession secure at last,
I’m making plans.” Prince Henry stepped up on the dais
and clasped his hands behind his back.

“I’d love to hear them, my
lord—”

“When, by God’s favor, the crown is
firmly on my head and I hold the scepter in my hands, the first
thing I’m going to do is expel those foreign mercenaries of
Stephen’s.” Prince Henry paced across the dais.
“He’s been paying them to quell rebellion, and all
they’ve done is teach rebellion.”

“That’s God’s truth,” Lord
Peter agreed.

“Law will return to the land. The courts set
up by our forefathers have been made puppets of the robber barons.
The barons, too, have forgotten that they owe their lands and
castles to the king. The king grants the land in return for
obedience and fealty. These barons who used this unsettled time to
seize land and build castles have a surprise in store.”

“Good tidings, my lord.” William nodded
with hearty encouragement. “Now if I could—”

Swept along on a tide of his own enthusiasm, Prince
Henry said, “I’ll have those castles confiscated. Those
barons seek only to prey on the unprotected populace. I ask you,
how can the people of England produce flax and wool, raise corn and
barley, without peace? How can my loyal nobles collect their
portion of the proceeds without peace? How can my government run
without the king’s portion of their revenues? This country is
in such disorder, the local sheriffs no longer come to present
their accounts at the Royal Exchequer.” Prince Henry poked
his finger toward each one of them individually. “There are
too few barons who retained only the lands due them through my
grandfather’s grants. Noblemen like you, Lord Raymond, will
be the king’s right hand. Barons like you, Lord Peter, and
you, Lord William, will be the backbone of my kingdom.”
Prince Henry puffed his chest with the pride, and announced,
“A kingdom we have secured in every way possible. Have you
heard that I’m the father of a son?”

Delighted, William let this great news distract
him. “A son? Prince Henry, congratulations. A son will secure
your dynasty. Never again will such a dark time return to England.
Long life to him!”

“Long life, indeed.” Prince Henry
grinned and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “His name is
Guillaume, and Eleanor
writes he’s a
strong and healthy boy. She’s already designated him to be
her heir, the future Count of Poitou.”

“You do bring wonderful news, my lord,”
William said. “But if you would excuse—”

“Eleanor and I will have many sons. Many
sons! Call for the wine, Raymond, and let’s drink to the
health of my son.”

The signs pointed to a long and cordial night, and
William interrupted in desperation. “Prince Henry!”

Prince Henry turned to William in surprise.
“Aye?”

“I’m honored by your trust, and I hope
to discuss these blessed changes tonight at the evening meal. But
my lord, I must go fetch my wife.”

Prince Henry reared back, offended by the
interjection of such a trival matter. “Where is
she?”

“I left her on the knoll overlooking the
castle. Excuse me, Lord, I must go to her.” He bowed with no
grace and began to retreat.

“Your wife will forgive you for forgetting
her. She observed the battle from her outpost, I’m
sure,” Prince Henry said coldly.

William stopped. “Nay, my lord. My wife is
blind.”

Prince Henry’s brows raised, and his attitude
changed immediately. He dropped the facade of provoked king and
became a curious man. “She must be an extraordinary woman to
have earned your devotion so thoroughly.”

“So she is,” William said.

Prince Henry looked around. Lord Peter grinned
proudly, as if they discussed his own daughter. Raymond smiled with
infatuated delight, and William smirked like a man who’d
found the key to paradise. With pleasure, Prince Henry said,
“Then I must meet this wife of yours, William.”

“Right away, my lord. I’ll have her
spin you the tale of how
she escaped the
dungeon and routed the dragon.” He bowed again, whipped
around and bounded away.

“I’d take that wife of his away from
him,” Prince Henry confided to the two men beside him,
“but Eleanor would have my ears.”

Saura no longer perched up on her rock. As the
sounds of battle had died, she’d crept back into the hollow
where William had placed her and huddled out of the wind.

Someone had won; someone had been vanquished. The
whole fight had taken only a few hours. Only now the fall sun had
begun to cool and the breeze from the sea to freshen.

She knew it would take William time to come for
her.

First he’d have to consult with the leader of
his winning forces, then he’d have to decide what to do with
the prisoners, then he’d have to liberate Bronnie. He’d
have to stride from the keep in his fine, long steps and go to the
stables. He’d commandeer a steed, ride to the knoll, walk up
the path. She cocked her head, but he wasn’t here yet.

Fine. She wouldn’t panic. She began again,
imagining William discussing the battle with his men. She imagined
him waiting for his father to ride up, and roaring at him for being
late. She imagined him ordering dinner for her.

She put her head down on her knees.

He’d never ordered dinner in his whole life;
he wouldn’t know what to say. He was a useless male creature
with no idea of the labor involved in making a household work, and
she wanted him with ridiculous passion. She wanted him with her
now
.

A footstep and then a rock rattled down the path
behind her.

“William!” She almost shouted it,
almost leaped around, but belated caution froze her where she
sat.

How would she know this was William? Recognizing
his footstep on the floor of the keep was not the same as hearing
it on the pebbley surface of a path. William had instructed her to
stay out of sight for her own safety, and she had ignored him. What
if someone had seen her and decided to rape her? What if Nicholas
had escaped and sought her as a hostage?

Another shower of stones sounded closer, and her
heart beat with mighty rhythm and her hands clenched her skirt.
What should she do?

Then right on the other side of her rock,
William’s voice blasted, “Saura! Where are
you?”

Scrambling up, she called, “Here! Oh,
William, I’m here.”

“God’s teeth.” He vaulted onto
the boulder and slid down into her arms. She trembled with worry
and restrained hysteria, and he said hastily, “He’s
dead.”

“I know.”

“And Cran Castle’s been
captured.”

“Are you hurt?”

“A scratch.” He put her hand on his
chest and she felt the drop of blood dried there.

“I was so worried. What took you so
long?”

She was panicked, he judged. He took a breath,
calming himself. She’d been through a terrible time,
she’d been unable to see the events unfolding at her feet.
Later he could express his concern for her; right now she deserved
a patient understanding. Taking another breath, he snarled,
“Why didn’t you wait where I put you?”

“This is where you put me,” she
insisted.

“Nay,” he said, sure and terrible.
“’Tis not. What have you been doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Saura.” His very tone was a
warning.

“I sat where I could hear,” she snapped
defiantly, gripping his shirt in her fists. “Is that a
sin?”

His arms squeezed her, taking her breath away, and
he was torn between hugging her and smacking her. “Aye. I put
you down below the level of visibility for your own safety. Woman,
can’t you follow directions just once in your life?” He
started with a steady self-possession, but his voice rose until he
was shouting.

Take a breath, she counseled herself. He had a
right to irritation, he’d been through a rough few days.
He’d besieged one friend, fought and killed another, been
faced with his own fears. Last but not least, he’d had to
admit he was wrong. He deserved a gracious apology and assurance
she’d done it only because she worried about him. Taking
another breath, she blasted him with all her lung power. “Not
when I’m troubled for a stubborn, beetle-headed malfeasor who
frightens me every time he fights and yells at me when I’m
independent and who,” her voice suddenly dropped to a
whisper, “who makes me happy and whole.”

He had to lean down to hear her, but her words
deflated his indignation. “Do you love me, then?”

“Too much.”

“Too much?” he questioned tenderly, his
worry and distress melting under her whispered confession.
“Like a good wife should love her husband?”

“Not like that, better than that.” She
never knew she could be so embarrassed, so afraid to speak the
truth. Still, she owed it to him; she owed him everything. She
raised her head so he could see her face, could know with all his
senses
that she spoke the truth.
“I’ve loved you for so long.” She held up her
hand for silence. “You were right, though, I didn’t
trust you. How could I? It seemed as if all the needs were on my
side and all the providing was on yours. If you didn’t need
me in any way, what would happen if you tired of me
someday?”

Clasping her in his arms, he slid down the rock and
settled her onto his lap. “Well, first of all, I could never
leave you. Your mind is quick and clever, your conversation
delightful. You have the kind of beauty that grows with maturity,
blossoms with age. You’re a noble lady, a chatelaine.
Intelligence, beauty, domestic skills. A man would be a fool to
tire of such a woman.” She opened her mouth to contradict
him, and he put his big hand over her lips and said swiftly,
“I agree, men are fools. That’s why I insisted on
marriage, Saura, even when you fought against it. I wanted you to
feel secure.”

“What security is there in marriage? Men beat
their wives for intelligence, for beauty.” She considered.
“Not for being a good chatelaine, though. I’m trying to
tell you a good marriage depends on mutual needs.”

“I need you!” He reared back in
astonishment.

“Why?”

“Why? You silly woman.”

He sounded resigned, and she agreed. “I know,
but I couldn’t see that the old needs had been replaced, not
reduced. It used to be easy. You used to need me. When you were
blind, you needed me so much. That’s when I first loved
you.” Her smile wrapped itself in mystery as she remembered.
“That golden voice, that blaring rage.”

“Don’t forget my kisses,” he
teased.

“Nay, I could never forget them.” She
patted the side of his face. “Did you realize my first
reaction when you recovered your sight?”

“Tell me,” he coaxed.

She sighed and blushed. “This will tarnish
your image of me.”

“Nay.” He recalled her as she sat on
Arthur’s palliasse on the bright spring morning he’d
first seen her with his restored eyes. He remembered how the pain
on her face had broken her serene brow, and now he assured her,
“I don’t think you’ll be tarnished by a very
human reaction.”

“You already know,” she accused.

“If I could read your mind, love,” he
put his lips close to her ear and murmured, “we
wouldn’t spend so much time shouting at each
other.”

She laughed with reluctant amusement and realized
the lump in her throat had diminished. “That morning, that
awful morning after that glorious night, when I realized you could
see, I wanted to scream with rage. I felt I’d been cheated,
dreadful bitch I am.”

“Tsk.”

He clicked his tongue in mock amazement, and she
turned on him. “But ’tis true. I wasn’t needed
anymore. I was useless.”

“I’ve made a mistake with you,
dearling.” His lips brushed her forehead.

Bewildered by his lack of reaction and his comment,
she queried, “Why?”