The
first soldier smiled with satisfaction as he held up the banner.
"Excellent. Henry's own tunic, leopards of England." Quickly, he set
to securing the strip of material to one of the arrows.
The
second soldier peered over his shoulder. "David, I still do not understand
why you had me steal the length of tunic. What are you planning?"
David,
a Welsh soldier for nearly twenty years, smiled as he secured the banner.
"A brilliant scheme to be rid of le Bec,” he said. “You saw how he was
always near the girl. God's Blood, they were inseparable. If we want to get to
Henry's bastard, then we have to be rid of his knight."
Lyle
crouched down beside his comrade, scratching his head. "You still have not
answered my question. What are you going to do to the de Rydal party?"
Cloth
secured, David rose to his feet and Lyle with him. "Simple, really. Tad de
Rydal was ousted from the celebration for injuring le Bec. In retaliation, le
Bec sends some of his men to ambush his enemy," he held up the crossbow,
waving the crimson standard. "Le Bec announces his vengeance for all to
hear. Labeled a murderer, he’s forced to flee to London and we, my friend, are
rid of him. I would suspect that by tomorrow sundown, Richmond le Bec will no
longer be an obstacle and by the end of the week, Henry's bastard will be in
Owen's hands."
Lyle
sighed; 'twas as good a plan as any. Le Bec and the girl had been together
constantly and the Welshmen had been thinking heavily on returning to Owen
empty-handed when David had come up with a scheme.
Far
down the road, the unmistakable sounds of horses began to permeate the air,
echoing off the forest canopy. Lyle boosted David into a tree, high enough that
he would have an unobstructed view of his target, yet not so high that a quick
escape would be impeded. When David settled himself confidently, Lyle ducked
behind a sturdy trunk.
Slowly,
the de Rydal party passed through the corridor of pine. Tad was at the head of
the group astride his magnificent charger. His visor was up on his helm and his
expression was nothing short of hostile. Obviously, he was still smarting from
being evacuated from Lambourn and, as his manner suggested, he was not taking
the rejection well.
The
day was beginning to wan and the tall trees were casting long shadows along the
road. Tad was gazing at the path ahead, paying little if any attention to his
surroundings. His mind was still back at Lambourn, dwelling on the fact that he
had been deprived of a glorious evening of young women and fine food simply
because Richmond le Bec had manage to place himself in the path of his moving
stick.
He
picked his nose as he rode, disgusted with the entire day. First came the Lady
Arissa's rejection, followed by le Bec's timely arrival and subsequent
challenge. Then came the archery match, which he refused to recall in detail
because he had lost that contest, too. And then the Stick and Ball game,
resulting in le Bec's injury.
He
snorted softly with humor, wiping his finger on his tunic. He had possessed a
perfect opportunity to whack le Bec across his dumb face when the man had
stooped down to pick up the ball. One clean stroke, as hard as he could manage,
and le Bec had gone down like a stone. Sweet, sweet revenge.
To
his right, a flock of birds soared noisily into the winter sky as if suddenly
startled from their branches. Tad gave them nothing more than a passing glance,
still lingering on le Bec and the entire de Lohr family. He hoped he would
never again be forced into the company of the Earl of Berkshire and his brood.
Any father who pledged his only worthy offspring to a convent was a peculiar
man, indeed.
A
smile came to his lips as his charger passed under a low-lying cluster of
branches. His thoughts were shifting from Lambourn to Goring Hall and a certain
young serving wench that he was particularly fond of. He would be home in an
hour or two and began to look forward to the evening ahead. A hot meal, a full
wench, and he just might forget about the horrors of Lambourn and Richmond le
Bec.
But
his thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a searing force suddenly slammed into
his shoulder. He felt himself teetering, sliding from the saddle and unable to
steady himself. As a consuming pain devoured the entire right side of his body,
he met the road with a hard, agonizing crunch. Somewhere, he heard yelling, the
shouting of his men as they moved for cover. Indignantly, he realized that not
one of them was moving to assist him.
Cowardly
bastards
. He'd
take a tassel whip to them when he could move again. Fact was, he was not
entirely sure why he couldn't seem to function. Only that there was a great
deal of pain and warmth that seemed to touch every part of him. Everywhere,
there was agony and a fluid lethargy.
A
peculiar bliss settled over him and he did not fight it, staring up at the sky
as a mist began to cloud his vision. The mist grew into a fog, and the fog
began to blacken. He wondered where the fog had come from. He wondered if it
had anything to do with the pain. Even as he watched, it continued to grow until
there was only darkness.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
As
the evening hour approached, most guests had retreated to the monstrous hulk of
Lambourn to prepare themselves for the night's festivities. The heavy smells of
roasting meat filled the compound, the smoke from three large pits just outside
of the kitchens casting a thick gray haze over the grounds. Up on the
battlements, soldiers called out their rounds as dusk descended.
Arissa
had missed evening Vespers whilst tending Richmond's wound. Now in her bower
preparing for the great feast in her honor, Penelope and Emma kept her company
as she toyed with her hair for the fifth time in as many minutes. In the hour
since she had left Richmond, she could think of nothing else but their
encounter and her distraction was obvious.
"Did
Richmond require stitches, Riss?" Penelope asked.
She
nodded, securing the front section of her hair at the back of her skull with a
bejeweled clip. It was the third attempt. "I told you already."
"You
told us that he was fine," Emma said, observing Arissa's collection of
girdles. "You never said if he needed stitches. Riss, do you think this
silver belt goes with my blue surcoat? I like it better than the gold I am
wearing."
Arissa
glanced over her shoulder, stroking her raven hair with a horse bristle brush.
"As do I. Wear my silver."
Delighted,
Emma disengaged the gold girdle in favor of the silver. Penelope opened her
mouth to continue on the subject of Richmond when two horn blasts pierced the
outdoor air. Strolling to the window as the sun set, she gazed out over the
bailey in time to note the arrival of a single rider. It was a man she had
seen before, more times than she could recall. A man who was Richmond le Bec's
shadow.
"Gavan
is here," she murmured casually, turning away from the lancet window.
"I wonder where he’s been?"
Arissa
shook her head, finally finished with her hair. Dipping a single finger into a
small alabaster vial at her elbow, she proceeded to smooth the ocher-tinted
beeswax on her lips. "Mayhap in London. Truthfully, I do not know. I was
surprised when Richmond arrived without him."
Emma
sighed dreamily. "Sir Gavan Hage. The man of my dreams."
Penelope
smiled, shaking her head. "Every man is the man of your dreams."
Emma
thrust her chin up, away from her tormenter. "Untrue, you little chicken.
It has always been Gavan, more than any other. Although I will admit, I have
been distracted on occasion."
A
faint smile crossed Arissa's lips as she pinched her cheeks to bring about a
spot of color to her face. "On occasion? Sweet St. Jude, Emma, you are a
fickle character."
"What
do you mean by that?" Emma asked, her eyebrows raised.
Arissa
turned away from the polished glass mirror. "I mean, all you could speak
of today was Tad. And now you are ready to sink your teeth into Gavan Hage.
Control your lust, woman."
Emma
cheeks mottled a faint pink, embarrassed. "I do not lust. I simply....
simply get distracted by other men when Gavan is away. Now that he’s returned, however,
I plan to devote my time to him entirely, starting with the evening
feast."
Arissa
rose from the stool, straightening her green-on-green surcoat. "Sweet St.
Jude, do not throw yourself at his feet and beg for the opportunity to share
his trencher like you did the last time he was here."
Emma
looked away. "You shall never allow me to forget, will you? One small,
insignificant incident and I am branded a desperate female."
Penelope
snorted, picking up Arissa's brush and running it through her blond hair.
"You are a desperate female. When you practically tied Gavan to his chair
in hopes that he would share his meal with you, I nearly died of embarrassment.
I have never seen anyone so eager for a man."
Emma
frowned, her flush deepening. "I am not that bad. But he shared his meal
with me, did he not?"
Arissa
cocked a black eyebrow. "It was difficult to refuse when you burst into
tears. Really, Emma. No more attempts to lure Gavan Hage. No offense, darling,
but you simply cannot compete with his wife."
Emma's
cheeks were a dull red. "Enough already. Leave me alone."
She
turned toward the lancet windows as Penelope and Arissa passed amused glances.
Emma was a sweet girl, but she lacked the humility and restraint of the average
maiden. Her desperation for a male companion drove her to severe measures at
times.
Desperation.
Arissa began to think of
Richmond again, experiencing the longing that even one short hour had provoked.
He promised to escort her to supper this night and the wait for his appearance
was nearly more than she could bear.
She
glanced at Penelope and Emma, wishing she could tell them of the most
thrilling, wondrous experience of her life. Even if she decided to tell them,
she seriously wondered if they would believe her outrageous claim. After all,
what would a great knight like Richmond le Bec want with the daughter of an
earl? Not an heiress, or even a countess, but a simple lady. Practically a
nobody.
But
she would not question his reasons for his interest, as she could not question
her own. The only matter of import was that they loved one another. She could
scarcely believe she had endured her entire life wondering about his feelings,
dreaming of the day that he would declare his intentions. Yet even as she
dreamt of love, she never truly believed her dreams would become truth.
There
was a knock at the door, startling Arissa from her thoughts. Penelope moved to
answer the call and they were all shocked when Regine spilled forth, sobbing
and sputtering. Daniel stood behind her.
"You
shall stay here, you wicked little wench, until I can decide what needs to be
done," he jabbed his finger at her.
Regine
fell into Arissa's arms. Arissa drew her tight, her eyes wide at the young
knight. "By what right do you speak to the earl's daughter in such a
manner?"
He
moved into the room, making certain to close the door behind him. Only when it
was bolted did he return his attention to Arissa. His gaze, however, lingered
on Regine.
"Well?
Are you going to tell her or am I?"
Regine
sobbed harder, all but ruining the front of Arissa's surcoat. Daniel waited a
respectable amount of time for the girl to reply; however, when it became
evident she had no intention of elaborating, he took charge.
"I
was making my rounds tonight, as Carlton was seeing to the safety of the guests
inside the castle. As I was nearing the storage area by Mossy's tower, I heard
muffled voices and what I thought to be crying. Curious, I peered into the
small room where we store hand-to-hand weapons," he cast a long glance at
Regine. "Your sister was inside the room with a soldier, her skirts hiked
up around her waist as the man went to work on her. I cannot say that I was in
time to save her virginity, but I do not think he spent himself on her."
Arissa
looked horrified. Penelope was absolutely white and Emma's mouth hung agape. As
frisky and curious as Regine was, certainly they did not believe her capable of
such an adult act. The three of them immediately turned to the sobbing young
girl as if she had committed a mortal sin.
Arissa
swallowed hard, trying desperately to recover a measure of composure. Gazing
down at her sister's blond head, she shook the girl gently. "Regine, is
this true?"
Regine
sobbed and sniffled, and Arissa was suddenly seized with a tremendous anger;
snatching her sister by the arms, she tore her free of their protective
embrace. Giving Regine a good shake, she forced her to meet her eye.
"Damnation, Regine, is this true? You will answer me now!"
Regine
gazed into her sister's pale green eyes, never more afraid or more remorseful
of anything in her life. But regret did not quite begin to describe the
long-term repercussions of her actions, as she was more fearful of her
punishment than of the act itself. "I.... he told me I was beautiful and
he promised to teach me all there is to know about love. Riss, I simply wanted
to know the experience and....."