Keeper of the Stone (5 page)

He recalled her earlier conversation with the king.  Her mother had given her father several sons and two daughters, so while Lady Rhiann appeared on the slender side, he did not doubt the core of strength within her.  Did she not demonstrate that strength when she refused to cower before the king earlier? He admired her spirit, even though in this case she should count herself fortunate for William’s restraint. He knew many, and none of them kings, who would have backhanded the maid to the stone floor for her defiance. Still Nathan was impressed when she met William’s gaze boldly, her bearing regal, her answers to his questions direct.  Aye, she was magnificent and worth perhaps as much as the dowry the king would award him when he wed her. 

She would be his wife.  He smiled at the thought, in a hurry now to get the deed over and done with.  He was reluctant to wait even the single night the king decreed before they were wed. He was certain there was no finer woman in all of Saxony.  Her beauty was already attracting the attention of every man in the room. He understood now the king’s haste to see the lady’s future settled else fights broke out amongst his knights over who would be given the right to claim her.  Too late, he thought with a great deal of satisfaction.  She was his. He would kill any man who attempted to take her from him.

“She’s a beauty,” Archibald commented from his place at Nathan’s shoulder.  “No doubt there will be much anticipation and speculation over who the king means to award her to.”

“No doubt.” Nathan readily agreed. He had yet to confide his good fortune to his close friend. He would let the king make the announcement in his own time, not wishing to risk offending his lord by claiming a prize not yet publically given, though in Nathan’s eyes the prize was already awarded. The maid was his.  No other man would ever touch her. 

He watched as the king summoned her to his side, noticed Rhiann’s graceful curtsey before him and the ease with which she accepted William’s introduction of his wife. Nathan was so nervous when he was first presented to Matilda at an age when he was not much older than the lady herself, he almost knocked her over when he bowed before her.  He could smile now at the memory of his younger self – so eager to please, so lacking in the knowledge of what it would take to make his own way in the world.

The idealism of the young boy placed in William’s household was ruthlessly crushed beneath the weight of the intense, back-breaking training he voluntarily submitted to in his quest to become a knight. He took on every challenge.  Never backed down from a fight.  His father made it clear to him at a young age he would be forced to earn his own way in the world.  Rather than fault his father for robbing him of a young boy’s dreams, Nathan was grateful for his honesty.

What little of his boyish idealism that survived long years of harsh reality meant to prepare him for a life of blood and battle was mercilessly crushed beneath his initial taste of war and death.  The first time Nathan slid his blade into a man’s soft belly beneath his hauberk he almost got himself killed by dropping his sword in surprise at the other man’s astonishment when he realized he would die on the blood soaked fields that day.  Another knight retrieved his sword and handed it to him just in time to deflect the death blow intent on slicing open his helmet and seeking the vulnerable flesh below. 

From his first taste of death, Nathan carved out his future.  Kill or be killed became his silent motto and he brought the same brutal determination to every challenge he faced in life.  It was his single-minded pursuit of his goal of becoming lord of his own lands that brought him here tonight…to the brink of achieving every wild boyhood fantasy  beyond even his most outrageous imaginings… lands of his own, a fine lady for his wife…a duke’s daughter no less.  Yes there was definitely going to be some grumbling when the king made his intent known. 

The call for dinner was finally announced and Rhiann found herself seated next to the new queen.  Try as she might to keep a cool distance from the motherly figure Rhiann towered over, Matilda was having none of that.  “Your quarters are comfortable, my dear?  You were able to rest from your long journey?” The new queen inquired as if she truly cared whether or not Rhiann found herself in comfortable quarters.

Rhiann couldn’t bring herself to slap down the woman’s kindness regardless of how she felt about her husband and his war.  “Yes, thank you, your highness.  It is most kind of you to concern yourself with my welfare.”

“Not at all, my dear.  Such an awful thing this war, but it is done now and it is a woman’s place to bring healing and peace in its wake.”

Rhiann sighed inwardly and replied without thinking. “I should prefer a man’s place I think.”

Matilda patted her hand sympathetically.  “No doubt, but perhaps in time you will come to feel differently.”

Rhiann was surprised by the understanding in the older woman’s voice.  She supposed she was no stranger to war given the fact her husband was now a king.  Rhiann thanked the servant who laid a full plate in front of her and waited for the king to signal the start of the meal before picking up her fork and partaking of the rich offerings.  It seemed to her the meal was more a feast than a simple evening repast.  She knew she would be unable to swallow more than a sampling of the mountain of food on the plate in front of her.  The reminder of the hungry refugees they passed on their way to London dimmed considerably her enjoyment of her first hot meal in many weeks.             

“That’s an unusual stone you’re wearing, Lady Rhiann.” The queen’s comment distracted Rhiann from her unwelcome musings.

Rhiann glanced down at the stone around her neck and quickly lifted the delicate chain over her head. She offered it to the new queen. “How remiss of my escort to have overlooked a potential item of value.”  She was aware of the king’s bristling at her sarcastic remark from his place at the head of the table next to his wife.  Matilda merely patted his hand where it rested next to hers on the table. Rhiann concluded that while the king was apparently willing to overlook her prior insolence to him he would not tolerate any towards his wife.

The queen accepted the stone from her outstretched hand.  Rhiann saw the surprise in her eyes and guessed it was from the unexpected weight of the stone and the way the color swirled vividly within its depths.  “I have never seen such a stone.  Where did you come by this?’

“The stone has been in my family for many generations,”

“I am surprised I have not seen more Saxon ladies wearing them.  Look how it swirls with color as if a storm is brewing in its depths.”

“The stone does not pass through the Saxon side of my family, your highness.”

The queen raised her glance in surprise at her comment. “Your mother was not Saxon?”

“Only by marriage. “

The queen nodded and returned to her perusal of the unusual adornment.  “The colors are gone. The stone has gone dark.”

  Rhiann wasn’t surprised. “Somehow it knows when it passes outside the family.”  Her explanation was not exactly true, but she thought the queen might take offense if Rhiann told her the stone recognized its rightful owner and would go dormant in the hands of any other.

“It knows?”

“A poor choice of words perhaps, but the stone reacts thusly when held by another.”

The queen glanced back at the stone which now lay dark and lifeless in her hand. It appeared as a shiny black onyx set in fine silver; still beautiful, undoubtedly still valuable, but dead after the life it displayed against the maid’s fair skin.  “Do you know anything of the history of this jewel?  How did it come to your mother’s family?”

“As a young girl I heard many stories of the amulet’s history.  There were fanciful tales about the stone becoming wayward and dangerous in the wrong hands.  No doubt those were invented to discourage potential thieves.  To be honest I never paid much attention to the myths surrounding it. The stone should not have come to me.” 

“Why not?”

“It passes through the eldest daughter on my mother’s side of the family.  The stone was meant for my sister.”  Rhiann let her voice trail off as she wondered about her sister’s fate.  It was the amulet’s acceptance of her, Rhiann, more than anything else that convinced her Melissa was dead.  If her sister was still alive the stone would lay as black and lifeless against Rhiann’s skin as it appeared in the queen’s hand. Shaking herself away from her dark thoughts, she turned to the queen with a forced smile. “It matters little now. I am certain the stone’s new owner will start their own traditions.”

Rhiann was not disappointed to give up this particular bequest. She would be relieved to be rid of its constant weight and the memory of it lying in a pool of her mother’s blood.  She thought foolish the old legends surrounding the mysterious jewel.  If the stone held the power it was rumored to hold her mother would still be alive. 

The queen offered the necklace back to her.  “I think it is best for such things to remain in the hands of their true owners.”

Rhiann made no move to accept the queen’s offering.  “Are you certain there is not a Norman lady you would like to make a gift of the stone to?  Perhaps one of the king’s loyal knights would like to make an offering of the jewel to his lady.  I believe it is quite valuable.”

Matilda smiled at her barely veiled attempt to distance herself from the necklace. “I think not, Lady Rhiann.  I believe we have demanded enough from you.”

Rhiann sighed resigned.  She suspected the stone would not be so easily gotten rid of.  Reluctantly she accepted the necklace from the queen’s hand and slid the fine silver chain around her neck. “As you wish, your highness, but it is an uncomfortable inheritance.”

The queen nodded, smiling at her disgruntled tone. Her eyes widened in surprise as the amulet grew bright against Rhiann’s skin.  The cold dead stone was suddenly alive with new light, taking on a rich emerald color.  “Does it take on the color of your gown or your eyes?”

Rhiann shrugged.  “I cannot be certain.  It was always gold when my mother wore it and her eyes were green as well, red in my grandmother’s possession and her eyes are dark.  The stone chooses the color it takes on when a new owner takes possession.”

“Fascinating.  Is it magic then?” The queen’s rapt attention remained on the stone.

Rhiann smiled sadly.  “If it was magic I would surely not find myself in my current predicament.”

The queen met her glance and nodded her understanding.  “I suppose not.”

“Well Nathan? Have you considered my proposition?” The king interjected and Rhiann was glad to be distracted from any further discussion about the stone or her family.  The king’s attention was focused further down the table.  Rhiann turned to follow his gaze.  The man was apparently waiting for her to look his way because he immediately captured her glance with his intent blue one as soon as she turned to him.

He was younger than most of the other knights in the room and richly garbed.  The deep blue of his garment accented the lighter blue of his eyes.  He was tan from long hours spent laboring in the sun, but his sharply etched features were unscarred. There were gold streaks in his light brown, shoulder length hair that was secured away from his face with a leather tie.  She could not tell his height as he was seated at the table but his shoulders were broad and unbowed.  She suspected the hands resting in a deceptively mild fashion in front of him held the strength to crush her own slender form between them.  She could not hold his intense regard for long and quickly lowered her gaze to where her own hands were clasped nervously in her lap as she followed his response to the king’s query.

“Yes, sire.”

“And you are content with my gift to you?” The king spoke in riddles and by the startled reaction of the others around the table Rhiann was not the only one to think so.

“More than content, sire.  I find myself deeply in your debt.” Rhiann detected a thread of amusement in the man’s deep voice as he reassured his overlord.  He was obviously on good terms with the new king.  This Nathan understood his place in the new order and was obviously content with it. Rhiann heaved a silent sigh.  Perhaps one day she would know such contentment again.

“Good, then as we discussed, the wedding will be held tomorrow evening in the new abbey.”

There was a surprised murmuring around the table and Rhiann was uncomfortably aware of the attention suddenly focused on her.  She raised startled eyes to the stranger’s face.  “You are to be wed on the morrow, my lord?”

His amused smile revealed straight, white teeth and made him appear less intimidating than before.  “Yes, my lady.”

Rhiann glanced suspiciously from the stranger back to the king, who seemed equally amused by her question, as if the two shared some private joke.  Rhiann could not help but notice the queen was regarding her sympathetically.  In a near panic she turned back to the Norman knight with the light blue eyes.

“Your betrothed is traveling from Normandy for the ceremony?”

His grin widened at her attempt at self-deception.  “There is no need.  My betrothed is already in London.  She arrived earlier this afternoon.”

Rhiann shook her head in denial as the truth sank in. Perhaps he was playing some cruel game with her.  She turned pleading eyes to the king.  “Surely, sire, you cannot mean to… you would not…”

When words failed her the king reached across the table to pat her hand reassuringly. “Nathan will make you a fine husband, my dear.  There is no need for the fear I see in your eyes.”

That was supposed to comfort her?  His assurance she had nothing to fear from the stranger he meant to marry her to?  Raw panic rose in chest until she thought she might choke on it.  Without asking the king’s permission she jumped up from her seat at the table and fled the hall, amused laughter echoing in her ears at her hurried flight. 

Matilda shot her husband a disapproving frown and rose from the table to follow Rhiann to her room.  She found her staring out the window into the cold night, her arms wrapped around her middle to ward off the chill.

“My dear, come away from the window.  You’ll catch a chill,” Matilda commanded and clucked sympathetically as Rhiann turned to face her. The girl’s face was white as the sheets on her bed.  Her arms weren’t wrapped around her waist to ward off the chill but to still their shaking.  Matilda rushed forward and enfolded Rhiann’s slight frame in her arms.