Daughters of the Dagger 04 - Amethyst (14 page)

“Ah, so you’ve never had a brother.”

“Well, not true actually, but I’m getting to that part. You see, the old hag also told my mother that if she named her children after the gems in the daggers, they would someday find their true loves. But since she tried to steal, and also pushed away the beggar boy, my mother was cursed more or less. She was told she would lose a son, and also her true love. At first, she thought that meant my father would die, but it wasn’t so. She birthed a baby boy – a still born. He had one eye of black and another of orange. To this day the sight of him still haunts my mind. Mother died birthing him, hence losing her true love – my father.”

“That is some story,” he said. “But I still don’t believe in superstitions. That was all just a coincidence.”

“Not so,” she said. “Because, although my father discarded of the daggers, saying they were cursed, each of my sisters ended up finding their daggers again, and also their true loves who are now their husbands.”

“So where is this dagger of yours?” he asked.
“I am assuming it had an amethyst stone in the hilt?”

“It did. And I don’t know where my dagger is right now, but I’m hoping to find it someday.”

“So – then that must mean that I am not your true love?” he asked. She could hear a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“My sisters didn’t all have their daggers right when they got
married. So there is a chance mine could show up yet.”

“And then I’ll be your true love?” he asked. “Amethyst, that is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. And I know for a fact I’ll never be your true love, as I sincerely doubt that you even like me.
After all, you told me you weren’t even sure you wanted to be married to me anymore.”

She pulled her hand from his, not liking the way he discarded her life story
so easily which meant so much to her. “It isn’t ridiculous,” she said. “It’s true.”

“Well, you can believe whatever you want, darling.” He stood up and stretc
hed. “Now come on, let’s return to the solar and go to bed.”

He went to put his arm around her, but she once again stepped away.

“What is the problem, wife? We both shared our sad stories, now let’s get on with our lives.”

“Are you going to release the prisoners?” she asked.

“I told you before, they are not my prisoners to release.”

“Then are you going to at least convince your father to let the women and the child go free?”

“You should know by now that nobody convinces my father of anything. This is the way of war, sweetheart. Just accept it.”

“Nay, I can’t.”

“Amethyst, stop acting like this.”

“Then let the prisoners go. The women and child don’t deserve this kind of treatment.”

“God’s eyes, you are stubborn. And my father was right. You are trying to command this castle.”

“Then if you don’t like it, why don’t you start commanding it, and stop letting
your father tell you what to do?”

“Don’t talk that way to me, wife. My father was right. You are just a woman and I have been allowing you to influence my decisions.”

“You are a horse’s ass,” she said, and his eyes darkened and a coldness filled them, but at the same time a fire of anger burned within them. He grabbed her roughly by the arm, his hand rising up to strike her. She winced, and turned her head, anticipating the blow, but his hand stopped in midair.

“Bid the devil, you try my patience.”

“Then go on and hit me,” she said. “After all, that is how you treat women, isn’t it? That’s the way your father wants you to treat me.”

He released her then and turned away. He ran a hand through his hair and spoke to her with his back toward her.

“I think it’s best if you sleep in the extra solar with Matilda for awhile.”

Her heart sank into
her stomach and her throat tightened. She felt as if she were being choked by his words.

“So … what are you saying?” she asked. “That you no longer want to be married to me?”

“You know as well as I that the only reason we’re married is because of an agreement between my father and yours and a damned missive from the king. I’m not your true love, Amethyst, nor can I ever be. Mayhap it would be better if we just … ”

“Just what?” she asked. “Got the marriage annulled? After all, I’m sure it would be easy for you to do that, as you are good friends with the king and your father knows the archbishop.”

“Is that what you want, Amethyst?” he asked, his eyes searching out hers in the moonlight.

“Is that what
you
want?” she rallied back, wanting to know how he felt before she answered.

“I don’t know,” he said, once again running his hand though his hair. “Perhaps … I’m not sure.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes again, and she despised her husband now more than she ever had. He saw the tears dripping down her cheeks and reached out for her.

“Amethyst, come here.”

“Why?” she asked. “So you can hit me?”

“I … I wasn’t going to hit you,” he said, but she knew it was a lie. She’d seen the anger within him, and she felt his intent. But something had stopped him from doing it, and she wasn’t sure what it was, but no longer cared.

She pushed past him and ran from the rose garden, hoping he wouldn’t follow. She needed to get away from him and think. Because though she despised the man right now, she knew that deep in her heart there was a small part of her that truly loved him as well. And this confused her more than anything.

Chapter 14

“A horse’s ass! That’s what she called me.” Marcus swung his sword at Peter, showing the new squire, Benjamin the art of fighting. He’d barely slept a wink at all last night because he was so upset by the argument he’d had with his wife. When she didn’t return to the solar, he knew she wasn’t coming, and this upset him more than anything. He’d told her to stay with Matilda, but since when had she ever listened to anything he told her to do?

He half expected her to come crawling back to h
im asking for forgiveness, but she didn’t. He should have known better. She would never do anything like that. At least not when she was still so angry with him over the prisoners. He’d left his room twice, meaning to go to her room and drag her back where she belonged, but each time he just stood outside her door and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Well, there must be a reason for her calling you that,” said Peter blocking his blows. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the practice yard, louder than normal for some reason.

“She wants me to release the prisoners, but I won’t.” He raised his hand and stopped the sparring, then looked over to Benjamin. “All right, young squire, your turn now. Do you think you can handle a sword?” He reached down and picked up a sword from the ground. It wasn’t a practice sword with a blunted tip, it was a sharpened sword used in battle. He handed it to the boy with the hilt first, over his arm.

“That’s not a practice sword,” Peter pointed out. “I’ll go get one, my lord.”

“Nay,” he said, stopping him. “If Benjamin is going to be a squire to a warlord then he needs to use a sharpened weapon right from the start. He already attended an actual battle, so this should be no different.”

“A battle that almost cost you your life,” said Peter under his breath. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a blunted sword, my lord?”

“Benjamin, can you handle an actual sword or not?” asked Marcus.

“I … I think so.” He tested the weight in his hand and positioned himself in front of Marcus.

“You either can or you can’t. There is no in between. Now tell me, can you handle the sword or not?”

“I can, my lord!” He held it up proudly, and Marcus knew his tactic of raising the boy’s conf
idence level was working. He hadn’t liked anyone treating him less than a man while he was growing up, and he wouldn’t do it to this boy either.

“Then fight me,” he said, striking out at the boy. The boy took a surprised step backwards, and stepped out of the way.

“You either fight me, or I’ll send you to the ladies solar to sew and weave tapestries. So which will it be?”

“I’ll f
ight, my lord.”

“Good choice
.” Marcus struck out again, and this time the boy lifted his sword and blocked him. “Not bad,” he said, being very gentle with his blows. “Now try to anticipate my next move and instead of just defending yourself, you’ll have the opportunity to attack as well.”

Marcus struck forward
again. The boy being light on his feet, managed to dodge out of the way and come in from the side, lunging for Marcus with his sword. Marcus easily knocked it from the boy’s hand and it flipped up in the air, and it landed at their feet.

“Good attempt, but you need to have a better grip on the sw
ord. Let the sword’s own weight do the work instead of using the force of your body. Save that for when you’re meeting with an angry Scot face to face on the battlefield. Now pick up the sword and try it again.”

“Aye, my lord, I will.”

“Cousin, have you seen Lady Amethyst today?” asked Matilda, coming up behind him.

“Nay,” he ground out, “nor do I care.” He met once again, sparring with Benjamin.

“That is no way for a husband to talk about his wife,” she said.

“Well, she has spoken to me in a way that is not appropriate either, so I guess we’ll call it a draw.”

“Amethyst? She is so sweet, and she cares about you so much. What could she possibly say to you that was inappropriate?”

“Never mind, now be on your way, I have a squire to train and can’t be distracted.” He found himself striking at the boy harder as his temper grew.

“Nay, not before you tell me what she said.”

“I said go away
, now do so at once.” He moved forward, not giving the boy a break. Benjamin blocked one move after another, moving backwards just defending and not able to do anything else.

“She
called him a horse’s ass,” Peter answered for him.

“Peter,
shut your mouth,” he warned, striking out, taking out his anger in his actions. Still, Ben was able to keep up.

“Well, you probably deserved it,” said Matilda from behind him. “After all, you do act like a horse’s ass quite often, as I’ve told you through
out the years of our growing up together.”

“That is not so!” He pulled back his sword and turned toward her in anger.

“Watch out, my lord,” called Peter.

He jumped out of the way just as Benjamin’s sword nicked his hand. Blood dripped from the top of his hand to the ground.

“I am so sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Marcus couldn’t be sore at the boy, as he was only doing as instructed, and Marcus had been the one to give him the sharpened sword.

“Never apologize for doing what was asked of you,” said Marcus and nodded his head toward Peter. “Take him to the armory and show him how to use sand and vinegar to get the rust off my armor,” he said. “That’ll be all the training with weapons we’ll have for now.”

“Aye, my lord,” said Peter, walking away with Ben.

“Thank you, my lord,” said Benjamin.

“Never thank someone fo
r doing their job,” he said as the two boys walked away.

Then
he rubbed his hand against his tunic to wipe away the blood and replaced his sword at his side.

“So you haven’t seen Amethyst either?” he asked Matilda.

“Nay,” she said. “I thought she’d be helping her uncle and working on the gatehouse, but there doesn’t seem to be too many workers there today.”

He stopped and cocked his head, listening, and then realized why the clashing of the swords had seemed so loud today. Because there was no pounding and clanking and grinding – the noises of the workers that should be working on his gatehouse.

“I told them I wanted the workers to step up the progress,” he ground out. “What is going on here?”

He hurried to the worksite, th
rough the gate, over the drawbridge, and past the gatehouse being constructed, with Matilda right behind him. “There is no one working at all,” he said, feeling his blood push through his veins. There would be hell to pay now. He made it to the barbican which was about half done. There he found the workers, all gathered around his master mason, but not a one of them had a tool in their hands.

“What the hell is going on
?” he asked. “Now everyone get back to work before I have you all flogged.”

“Lord Marcus,” said Clement, rus
hing toward him. “I am so sorry. I have been trying to convince them to work but they are insisting they get paid first, as it has been a while since they’ve seen any wages.”

“I’ll pay when I’m good and ready to pay,” he said. “Now I demand you all get back to work.”

“But my lord,” said one of the workers. “My family is starving, and my wife is about to give birth. They are counting on me to send them money back home.”

“My crops have all died since I haven’t been there to tend to them,” complained another man.

“Taxes are due, and I can’t pay them,” said another.

There seemed to be
trouble brewing, and Marcus knew he couldn’t expect the workers to keep working without being paid. He wanted to pay them, but he just didn’t have the funds.

“I will pay you when I can, but in the meantime we need to finish building the gatehouses, or we may all die at
the hands of the Scots.”

There was chaos among the worker
s and Clement tried to calm them down. Marcus didn’t know what he was going to do, until he heard a female voice from behind him.

“I have money here for all
of you,” said Amethyst, walking forward holding a bag of coins up in the air for all to see. “I will give it to my uncle and he will pay you all, now line up for your wages quietly. And as soon as you receive your pay, you’ll all return to work and I’ll not hear another complaint from anyone.” She handed the pouch to her uncle, and the crowd gathered around him.

“Where did you get the mon
ey?” Marcus asked curiously.

“It’s the money my father sent as a donation to the castle.”

“That was for building supplies,” he told her.

“That was for
whatever I decided,” she corrected him. “And building supplies will do us no good if there are no workers to use them.”

“Thank you,” he said with a nod of his head. “Well done.”

“Never thank someone for doing their job,” she said. She walked over to help her uncle, and Matilda followed.

Marcus just walked away, knowing now that Amethyst must have been spying on him during his practice session, or she never would have repeated his own words back to him. Fine, he thought. Two can play that game.
He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he could guarantee that when he was finished, she would never call him a horse’s ass again.