Authors: Lynn M. Bartlett
"I will not—" Beda began.
"You will do as I say, Beda, and not cause a scene in front of our guests, or I will have you confined to your chamber." Serena advanced upon the older woman, feeling quite pleased that at last she could do what should have been done when she first became Gyles's wife—and with Gyles's approval. "Heed my words well, Beda, for your own sake." Serena warned.
One look at Gyles told Beda that there was no help to be had from him, at least for the present. So she whirled and mounted the stairs that led to the upper floors.
"She's gone to find Aurelia, no doubt."
The familiar voice caused Serena to spin about and the next moment she was being twirled around in her brother's arms.
"Bryan! Oh, Bryan!" Serena was laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm so glad to see you! How long have you been here? How long can you stay? Are you riding in the lists? Will you ..."
"Stop! Stop!" Bryan grinned down at her. "Will you never stop badgering me with questions? You have done so since you were first able to speak, and I was greatly hoping your marriage would change that." Bryan looked closely at Serena, and the bantering tone disappeared from his voice. "All is well with you, Serena?" He spoke quietly, for though Gyles had turned to speak to other arrivals he was not out of earshot.
Serena lowered her eyes. "Yes, Bryan, of course."
"We have heard," Bryan continued, "that you two, the marriage... is not complete."
Serena colored. "You should not speak of such things, Bryan, and especially not here."
"Is it true?" Bryan persisted.
"True or false, 'tis none of your concern, Bryan."
"Richard is here, Serena, and he wishes a private word with you. He has sent me—"
"Are you both mad? Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?" Serena whispered angrily. "I cannot— and will not—meet Richard alone! You must tell him—"
"My greetings, Bryan."
Gyles had returned to them so quietly that Serena nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. When his hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder, Serena was sure that he could feel the wild beating of her heart and she searched his face for some sign that he had overheard the conversation with Bryan. But Gyles was smiling at Bryan, so Serena relaxed and suddenly became aware of her mussed appearance. As soon as she could, Serena would have to escape to her new chamber and change, for more guests were filling the hall with each minute that passed. She returned her attention to the conversation and winced inwardly as she noted the stiffness with which Bryan spoke to Gyles. Bryan was looking daggers at her husband and Serena feared that soon he would drop any pretense of cordiality and intentionally insult Gyles.
"Tell me, Bryan," Serena intervened smoothly. "Will you participate in all the events?"
Bryan tore his gaze from Gyles and understood instantly that he had been outmaneuvered. His anger had reached its limits and he snapped at his sister. "Of course I am! What a stupid question!" He ignored the pained look in Serena's eyes as he continued. "What of you, sister dear? Will you participate as well? Or are you now content to let some knight carry your colors? Serena always took part in the combats at Broughton, Lord Gyles, except for the lance combat. She was far too light and was constantly being unhorsed. Even so, Serena persisted until Father finally forbade her to enter the joust. With a broadsword or longbow, however, Serena is most accomplished. Why, when we were small, she often threatened to kill the first Norman cur she set eyes upon. Tis to her undying shame that she appears to have forgotten—"
A hand clapped hard against his shoulder cut off Bryan's speech and he turned to glare at the source of yet another interruption. Richard glared back at him before releasing Bryan's shoulders and bending to kiss Serena's hand. Bryan snorted and stalked away.
* * *
"Serena, you are more beautiful than ever," Richard murmured, then raised his head to salute his host. "Your pardon, Lord Gyles, for greeting your lady first, but I would have you remember mat we are old friends." Gyles inclined his head slightly as Richard continued. "Be patient with my friend," Richard nodded at Bryan's retreating back. "I fear he indulged himself with his wineskin far too often during the journey. Tis a fault of his for which Serena can vouch." He bowed and made his way after Bryan.
Serena stared at the floor, embarrassed to the very depths of her soul for her brother's behavior. Everything had been going so well! What must Gyles think of her now? Would he turn from her now and again become remote and arrogant? She had hoped so desperately for him to want her as his wife.
While Serena's thoughts were in a turmoil, Gyles's were surprisingly clear. That Serena had not wanted this marriage, he had known, but that she shared Bryan's hatred of Normans was something new. Gyles had heard rumors concerning Bryan's activities and he wondered if Serena had a part in her brother's schemes. If he invited her to share his bed, would he awaken some night to the feel of a cold blade at his neck? Serena had been so pliant this afternoon—why? What was she planning? To have Bryan under his roof was bad enough, but he also was plagued with Richard's presence as well. Did Serena plan to kill him and then take Richard as her lover? What did Serena hide behind those blue eyes of hers?
Gyles was of a mind to confront her with his accusations, but he checked the impulse. "Go and change, Serena, before you take a chill. I will see to our guests." Serena turned her face upward to his and he frowned at its paleness. "And for the love of God, put some color in your cheeks and try to smile, or I'll be accused of beating you! I would hate to be challenged either by your brother or that erstwhile Saxon swain of yours," he snapped.
* * *
The evening was a nightmare that seemed to last forever for Serena. She moved through the guests with a smile fixed on her lips. She answered questions and made conversation without being aware of what she said. Gyles spoke not a word to her and in fact avoided her completely. Serena's only comfort was that he treated Beda the same way. Serena's nerves were stretched so taut that she felt like screaming when she found herself trapped between Richard and Bryan. Bryan had made free with the ale and the last vestiges of control had vanished.
"My sister, the Norman whore!" He saluted her with his drinking horn. "Where is our most gracious host, your husband? The Normans! They rape first our land and then our women. Does he please you well, sister? The nights are far too short for him I'll wager." He subsided back into his ale and Serena nearly dashed the horn from his lips.
Serena drew a shaky breath. "Perhaps you had best take Bryan outside, Richard, before he causes trouble."
"Serena, he didn't mean anything. You know what he's like when he drinks. Do not blame Bryan, for I understand well how he feels." Richard moved closer to her. "Is it true that your marriage is not complete, Serena? The Norman has not touched you?" Serena's eyes blazed at him and she started to move away but he caught her arm. "If 'tis true, Serena, there is still a way for us to be together. Petition for an annulment, Serena, the Church will surely grant it."
Serena pried Richard's fingers from her arm and hurried from him. Across the hall Aurelia and Beda watched her departure with pleased expressions.
"Everything is going quite well, Beda, don't you think?" Aurelia smiled at her sister.
Beda nodded sullenly. "Except for Serena. I thought this afternoon that our plans would come to naught, but now"—she glanced speculatively at Gyles—"I'm not sure."
"You have kept them apart?" Aurelia asked worriedly. "There won't be any offspring from this union?"
"I've done my best!" Beda hissed.
"Yes, especially when you attacked her! You nearly destroyed everything with that idiotic move. I'll tell you once more—first Geoffrey and Bryan, then Serena and Gyles." Aurelia sighed. "Stop pouting, Beda, you'll have Gyles for quite some time. You must get me more of those herbs before I leave. My supply is nearly gone."
"Tomorrow, while everyone is at the tournament." Beda cast a smug look at Aurelia. " Tis thoughtful of Serena to keep such a liberal supply of what we need, as well as a book to tell us how much to use." The two sisters exchanged smiles and settled back comfortably in their chairs.
Thankfully, the evening ended early as all the guests wished to be well rested for the lists the following day. Serena retired gratefully to her chamber. The pleasant afternoon seemed years ago now, and Serena could have wept for her stillborn hopes. There was no sound from Gyles's chamber and Serena assumed that he had sought out Beda's room. She fell into bed, emotionally drained, but sleep eluded her as her mind continued to race. What had happened, Serena asked herself again. A few ill-chosen words, and all her plans had been destroyed. Damn Bryan and his fondness of wine! Was she never to live her life without others' interference? She heard the door to Gyles's chamber open and close, and Serena lay quietly listening to the sound of his movements in the room. Would Gyles at least come to her to discuss Bryan's rashness and Richard's thoughtless actions? If he did, Serena was sure she could repair what damage had been done. But the night grew older and Gyles did not come, and Serena nearly cried in her despair. Instead she rose from the bed and opened the trunk that held her armor. Carefully, Serena removed her mail, armor, shield, and weapons and began to polish them by the flickering candlelight. She had been a fool to believe Gyles could be won by soft words and willing compliance, but she would be a fool no longer.
* * *
At breakfast the next morning Serena was silent and withdrawn and Gyles marked with interest the deep shadows beneath her eyes. Serena picked at her food and finally pushed it away, drawing Gyles's attention.
"If you are ill, Serena, perhaps you should remain inside." The mocking concern in his voice made Serena long to tear at his handsome face with her nails. Gyles saw the brief flash of her anger and, smiling, he continued. "You do look a bit feverish, m'lady, I fear you took a chill after our swim yesterday. Yes, I believe 'twould be best if you kept to your chamber until you are better."
It was impossible that she could have taken a chill in yesterday's heat, Serena thought, and Gyles knew it, but she merely shrugged. "As you wish, m'lord. I had planned to spend the day abed."
Serena rose and left the hall, her departure noticed by none save Richard to whom she gave a slight nod. She gained her chamber, but did not enter, listening instead to the cacophony of voices diminish as the guests left the castle. Only then did she hurry into the room and bar the door behind her.
* * *
Gyles watched the tilting with little interest, awaiting his turn with the lance. The riders were good, but so far few had shown any style at tilting; instead they appeared content to charge pell-mell at each other without taking careful aim with their lances. Well, Gyles shrugged, that was the difference between seasoned fighters tempered in battle and untried boys.
His turn came, and Gyles mounted his horse, a strong stallion that had served him well for three years. The horse pawed eagerly at the earth, sensing the upcoming excitement. At the far end of the field, Gyles could see his opponent—the well-polished armor glinting brightly in the sun, as he adjusted his shield, snapped closed his visor, and extended his arm for a lance. Gyles did the same and both men waited for the signal to charge. A banner dropped and Gyles set his spurs into his horse's sides. The cheering of the crowd barely carried over the din of thundering hooves as Gyles settled his lance more securely in his grasp. All the weapons used today had been blunted and their blades covered, so no mortal injury would befall the contestants. Gyles watched his adversary approach and felt a flicker of admiration. The man wavered neither to right nor left and his lance—angled across his body—was pointed directly at the center of Gyles's shield. It appeared to Gyles that his adversary was slightly off balance, the weight of the lance carrying him too far to the inside of his horse. Gyles adjusted his own lance so that it would catch the upper right portion of the shield. At the instant before they met, the knight pushed his shield up and out, and Gyles's lance skittered harmlessly skyward while the other's lance caught fairly on Gyles's shield. Braced as he was for a hearty blow, Gyles was surprised by the light contact of the lance and had no trouble retaining his seat. He reached the end of the field, tossed aside the used lance, deftly caught the new one thrown by a squire and wheeled his horse around. The other knight was already charging full-tilt across the green, and for a moment Gyles was taken aback by the size of his opponent. It was strange that he hadn't noticed before how small the knight appeared in contrast to the horse. Gyles's mount surged forward, but Gyles's actions were purely automatic, his mind concentrating instead on the knight—armor had a way of deceiving the eyes because of its bulkiness, it could make a large man appear smaller than his normal size and the opposite was also true, and yet...
The distance between the two had rapidly diminished and at the last minute, Gyles altered the angle of his lance so that it caught the knight square in the chest instead of the shield. A muffled "oof" came from behind the visor, and the knight neatly somersaulted backward over the rear of his horse. The lance flew uselessly from his grasp and the knight hit the earth with a thud and an alarming clatter of armor. As he galloped toward the end of the field, Gyles caught sight of the squires racing from their places on the sidelines to aid the fallen knight to his feet. By the time Gyles turned his horse and returned to the site of his victory, the knight was being led into one of Lord Geoffrey's pavilions. His shield lay against the side of the tent along with the unused lance. Gyles rode to the pavilion and dismounted. The shield caught and held his attention, and he knelt to study its logo.
Divided into three parts, it bore no resemblance to any of the coats-of-arms Gyles had seen before: the upper half of the shield was divided into two equal parts, on the left a white rose bloomed, the petals painted in such perfection that they appeared real, green leaves perched delicately on gently curving, thornless stems; the right showed the sword Excalibur protruding from the stone from which King Arthur had freed it, and proclaimed its owner's Saxon heritage; the complete lower portion of the shield was devoted to the image of a bolt of lightning twisting and tearing its way through a cloud. The colors used also fascinated Gyles, for they were not the bright, vivid colors typically used, but were instead muted tones of green, blue, and gold that gentled the senses rather than assaulted them.
Gyles rose and hefted the lance. It was lighter by far than those normally used, and with a frown Gyles tested the shield as well. It, too, was of less weight than it should have been; well made and sturdy, it was true, but the shield was still too weak to withstand an assault of any duration, for it would surely bend and crack under the repeated blows of a broadsword.
"Serena was far too light—she was constantly unhorsed." The echo of Bryan's words burst into Gyles's mind. "Far too light . . . constantly unhorsed; far too light. . . constantly unhorsed . . . unhorsed . . . unhorsed . . . unhorsed." Serena! Gyles made for the flap of the tent, but found the way blocked by a grinning Bryan and an ashen-faced Richard as they exited.
Bryan glanced at the shield and lance that Gyles still held and the grin deepened. "I can assure you, Lord Gyles, that yon knight admits his defeat; he is of no mind to continue the contest, as you seem wont to do."
Gyles replaced the weapons. " 'Tis an unusual logo, not familiar to me," he said as he straightened.
Bryan threw back his head and laughed, "Did you not know? 'Tis Serena's own coat-of-arms. Did she never show it to you? Odd, for she is inordinately proud of it."
Gyles pulled the helm from his head and brushed the mail coif back from his face. Serena! He should have guessed; she had acceded too readily to his request to remain in her chamber. No wonder Bryan was laughing; Serena had made a fool of him! If it was ever discovered that he had tilted with a woman, and his own wife at that...
The wickedly curved scar whitened as the corner of Gyles's mouth tightened. "I should like to see my wife!" Gyles growled.
"Serena?" Bryan looked puzzled. "She's at the castle! Oh, no!" He began to laugh. "You think Serena is here? You think Serena was . . . that she jousted. . . ." He dissolved into helpless gales of laughter and sank to the ground.
"There's no cause for hilarity, Bryan!" Richard snapped. "Godwin might have been badly injured." Some color had returned to Richard's face and he addressed Gyles. "The shield is Serena's, as you know." He hesitated before continuing. "When—before Serena left Broughton, Godwin was her sparring partner, since he was the only man near her size. He has always carried Serena's shield in the lists she herself did not take part in."
Gyles had watched Richard carefully as he spoke. The younger man did not meet his eyes, and his speech, somehow, did not ring true. "I would meet Godwin." Gyles said.
Richard glanced briefly at Bryan who had recovered and was gaining his feet. Bryan shrugged. "Of course. Godwin will be honored, m'lord." Turning, he led the way into the pavilion.
A young man lay on the pallet, and by the dim light that filtered through from the outside, Gyles judged the lad to be no more than twenty. Godwin was nude save for his loincloth, and Gyles bent to examine what slight damage his lance had done; his brown, lean fingers gently pressing the unmarked skin covering the breastbone.
"There seems to be no serious damage," Gyles said as he straightened. "Is there much pain?"
"N-no, m'lord." Godwin stammered.
Gyles's eyes probed the corner of the pavilion. "Was your armor badly dented?"
Godwin stirred uneasily. "No, m'lord."
"His squire is seeing to his arms, m'lord." Bryan broke in smoothly. "By tomorrow no one will be able to tell where your lance caught him."
Gyies nodded and left, and as he rode from the pavilion, Bryan's laughter floated on the air behind him.