Lady Knight (18 page)

“You do not hunt? Not even with hawks?”

“I know I must lower myself in your eyes, but promise me that you’ll try to hide
it. You see, I’ve the strongest aversion to witnessing slaughter. Even a broken
bird with but a few bloody feathers sets my nerves on the raw.”

Riannon’s arm gently tightened around her. “I feel only the urge to protect
you.”

“It was my husbands. They both died of wounds. Unnecessary ones. From tourneys,
both of them, if you can believe.”

“I’ve seen many men killed and maimed at such.”

Eleanor closed her eyes against the past, but that did not stop her from
remembering the stench. “William lingered in agony. His foot began to rot. The
flesh was black. The stink… the stink was beyond sickening. I can still hear his
screams when they cut his leg off. And the scrape of a saw through the bone.”

“Hush. There’s no need to torment yourself this way.”

“I had to be there. It’s a wife’s duty. Though William did not know me at the
end. He did not know his mother. The rot, they said, had crept up through his
entrails and into his brain.”

Eleanor gripped Riannon though her mind saw that pain-racked travesty of a man.
The horror of changing his foetid bandages. Vomiting hot bile until she thought
her stomach would erupt from her throat.

Riannon kissed the top of her head. “That is past.”

Eleanor shuddered and struggled to banish her spectres. “You’d be well-advised
not to take poorly near me, else you’ll discover what a weak and craven creature
I truly am. For I could not tend you.”

Riannon reached the wine cup down from the ledge and offered it to Eleanor.
Eleanor wriggled upright and accepted the drink with trembling hands. Riannon
put one of her larger hands over Eleanor’s to hold the cup steady.

“I wept like a child after I killed my first man,” Riannon said. “And was
greensick. Is this why you avoid tourneys?”

“Foolish, I know.” Eleanor tried to rally her lighter spirits. “I tell most
people that I have no relish for giving away my sleeves or gloves. I’d much
rather people believe me aloof and stingy than that I fall queasy at the sight
of blood.”

“I hope that you can leave folk with the correct impression of your generosity,
love, for you can say that your favour is claimed. I’ll bear whatever you care
to grant me, though it might gain no more glory than watching our bed sport.”

Eleanor finally managed a smile. She leaned back against her pillows with
Riannon’s arm around her shoulders. “It surpasses my understanding how I did not
realise long ago that my perfect knight would be quite other than what everyone
else expects. Although, I wish you not to bloat with overweening pride from that
admission. There are still areas where you sorely fall short of – Oh.”

“What’s amiss?”

Eleanor stared up at Riannon. “You called me love.”

Riannon nodded. “It would not surprise me. For I do love you.”

To her own dismay, Eleanor burst into tears. Riannon took the wine cup from her
and gathered her close. Eleanor used Riannon’s shirt to mop her face.

“Oh, this is wretched.” Eleanor sniffed. “How like me to be so happy that I
weep. Nonnie, do not laugh at me. We’re supposed to be solemn and ardent and
poetically earnest when we declare ourselves in love.”

“I’ve not noticed a strong tendency in you to do as you ought.”

“Which is all the more reason I should do one thing properly.”

Riannon smiled. “You’re being foolish, love.”

“That’s because my wits have deserted me. I told Cicely that love is an
affliction. I knew not how truly I spoke. I can think of nothing but you – even
in those rare moments we’re out of bed.”

“If it is a disease, love, then I have a full dose, too.”

“Do you think any other couple would reduce love to a divine pox?”

Riannon laughed.

After a long kiss, Eleanor snuggled against Riannon with Riannon’s arms around
her. She rested her head on Riannon’s shoulder.

“I’ve never been in love and loved in return before,” Eleanor said. “I much
prefer it to loving alone.”

“Yes.”

Eleanor frowned, but set that aside as something she would probe later. “Let me
tell you about my favourite places. And where I wish to take you. The homes I
wish to be with you in. You see, I am woefully conventional in many respects.
I’m prideful about what I own, and I would show it off to you to further gain
your approval, and set myself higher in your valuing of me.”

“A few acres of land and some flocks of sheep or their lack will not affect my
feelings for you.”

“A few acres? I’ll have you know that I have estates all over the realm. I
administer them so efficiently that my revenues are steadily increasing, despite
the recent decline in wool prices. Yes, I have sheep. A fair few flocks, in
truth. Though I’ll not bore you with fretting over the depredations of the
murrain, nor my opinions about the tax the queen wishes to levy on wool sales.”

Riannon grinned and twined a lock of Eleanor’s hair around her fingers. “I’m
undomesticated, love. But I’ll not tire of hearing you boast, for I love the
sound of your voice even if I have no understanding of the words.”

“Now that is a surer proof of love than slaying dragons.” Eleanor smiled as she
snuggled more comfortably against Riannon. “Let me tell you all the delights I
have to offer you. I promise I’ll not tax your patience unduly with talk of
bailiffs, tally sticks, mining rights, and my new mills.”

Riannon nodded to the red-cheeked page for him to deliver his message.

“Sir – Lady, I come from her Eminence, the Naer Aveline,” he said. “She wishes
you most particularly to attend her at the Earl Marshal’s feast.”

Riannon frowned as she tossed the boy a coin and dismissed him. Aveline? Why
would the naer wish her to attend yet another feast? Riannon stood on the verge
of persuading Eleanor to forgo the invitation in favour of returning to bed.

Eleanor, who had reluctantly risen from their scandalously long interlude in her
chamber to receive the visit of her principal man of business, strode across the
hall. Lover and beloved. The strength of her own feelings did not surprise
Riannon, for Eleanor was a woman whom bards should sing about rather than the
wilting, insipid, passive creatures they favoured as their subjects. What had
taken her unawares was Eleanor’s professed reciprocation of feelings. To
Riannon, that seemed little short of a miracle. Even more perplexing, she could
not understand why men did not fight each other for the privilege of the lady’s
attention. Or why Guy lingered a single moment before declaring his interest in
her – though, Riannon knew she would find it impossible to watch if her brother
prosecuted a more active suit of Eleanor. Thank all the gods that Eleanor had
the wealth to pay for her continuing widowhood.

Eleanor smiled up at Riannon with a wicked warmth that dragged most of Riannon’s
mind along wanton paths all leading to Eleanor’s bed.

“I’m happy to say that I can afford to entertain you in good style,” Eleanor
said. “Though I’ll not bore you with talk of pennies. Most timely, too, was this
accounting, for I received a summons to talk with her Grace. I assume she has
set a price for my fine. How glad I am that she does not know that my love has
added greatly to my desire to remain unwed. She’d be astounded to learn how much
she could screw out of my purse for the privilege. Now, I suppose we’d best not
tarry in getting to the Earl Marshal’s feast.”

Riannon resigned herself to biting her tongue and struggling not to ram Henry’s
teeth down his throat.

Soon after they arrived in the crowded hall, Riannon left Eleanor talking with
an acquaintance and sought out Aveline.

“I’m here,” Riannon said. “For what reason did you wish my presence?”

“I’ve barely seen you since we came to the city,” Aveline said. “You’re much in
Lady Eleanor’s company, I hear?”

“I am the lady’s guest.”

“You’re sworn to the Goddess. Forget that not.”

Riannon frowned. “I do not forget oaths. Does this mean you have something I
must do?”

“If all goes well, yes.” Aveline smiled in the direction of the ambassador. “I
have every reason to believe that all will go very well.”

Riannon directed her frown at the small group of the Lion Emperor’s men. The
beefy one with the tattoo glared at everyone and looked like he wished he had
his sword in hand. Although, given the general reaction to them at the wedding,
she could scarce fault him.

“If you wish me to protect them,” Riannon said, “you’d be better reminding
others that they have our liege lady’s safe-conduct.”

Aveline’s eyebrow cocked. “Protect them? Oh, no, fear not that I’d foist so
unpleasant a task on you.”

When it came time to take places at the tables, Riannon sat beside Eleanor. In
carving and passing the choicest morsels to Eleanor, Riannon indulged in an
understated but determined flirtation. Eleanor responded with masterly skill.
She could make sipping soup from a spoon sexual. Before servants cleared away
the second course, Riannon wished food, her family, and everyone else a hundred
miles away and herself in bed with Eleanor. Eleanor’s hand on her thigh under
the cover of the tablecloth played havoc with Riannon’s ability to skewer pieces
of food.

After servants removed cloths and boards, Eleanor had to linger at the queen’s
pleasure, for Mathilda seemed in no hurry to talk with Eleanor about her
widowhood. Riannon listened with half an ear to Guy’s humorous account of the
ongoing tourney. She kept checking the whereabouts of Aveline and the imperial
ambassador. When she heard raised voices from across the hall, she was
unsurprised to see the tense tableau centred about that pair.

The ambassador leaped to his feet. Though Riannon could not hear what Aveline
said, her smile looked to be a blatant taunt. The ambassador’s bulky companion
bristled. Henry stepped forwards to put a hand on Aveline’s arm. The ambassador
spoke words that apparently needed no translation. Henry stiffened and glared at
him. Aveline’s reply triggered surprised murmurs from those close enough to
hear. The ambassador’s face flushed.

A hand touched Riannon’s arm. Eleanor frowned at the confrontation.

“Can you hear?” Eleanor said. “What’s happening?”

“Aveline baits the ambassador,” Riannon said.

“Baits? But why would she –”

The ambassador cracked a slap against Aveline’s face. The priestess made no
attempt to evade the blow. Henry stepped threateningly towards the ambassador.
Aveline grabbed his arm to restrain him. The ambassador’s large companion moved
to interpose himself between his master and the irate Earl Marshal. A shocked
collective intake of breath rippled out from the confrontation, followed quickly
by excited chatter.

Riannon understood the mime show. The emphatic gestures of the ambassador and
his man accepted a challenge. Aveline, her cheek red, looked far from cowed.

Enraged voices hurried the words “duel” and “champions” through the hall.

Henry offered himself as Aveline’s champion. Riannon knew, to the marrow of her
bones, the priestess would decline. She alone in Sadiston Castle’s great hall
stood unsurprised when Aveline named her champion in a ringing, triumphant
voice.

“The Vahldomne!” Aveline said.

Hundreds of voices quickly drowned the moment of stunned silence. Eleanor’s hand
tightened on Riannon’s arm. Riannon had her answer as to who had paid the
troubadour to sing of Vahl. Anger hardened inside.

“Is not the Vahldomne dead?” Eleanor said.

That looked like the question Henry turned on Aveline. The priestess radiated
sublime confidence. The ambassador stalked off. Noisy speculation erupted.

“I might think it a stratagem to diffuse the situation and negate the
challenge,” Eleanor said. “Save your cousin the naer looks more triumphant than
conciliatory. And not at all distressed.”

“No,” Riannon agreed. “She does not look upset.”

The queen strode to her sister. After a short exchange, she, Aveline, and Henry
left the hall. Only Aveline appeared unconcerned.

“I need no soothsayer to tell me that I’ll not be receiving my audience for some
time,” Eleanor said.

Guy joined them. “Well, what make you of this latest sport? Methinks our cousin
the naer knows something the rest of us do not.”

“That the Vahldomne lives?” Eleanor said.

“And who he is,” Guy said. “You don’t name as champion in a death duel a ghost
whom you hope will sally forth from Atuan’s hall of heroes to defend your
honour.”

“Death duel?” Riannon said.

“Holy gods.” Eleanor paled. “You’re not serious?”

Guy nodded and used a sweeping gesture with his wine cup to indicate most of the
people in the hall. “Even if the Vahldomne doesn’t show, Aveline shan’t want for
a replacement. Most have been straining for a chance at the imperial dogs. It
just needed him to relinquish his safe-conduct to let the tide loose.”

Riannon’s anger gained a bitter edge. She glared at the door through which
Aveline had departed. That cunning bitch had planned this before she gave
Riannon the sword.

“I think your analogy of a tide might prove apt,” Eleanor said. “I’ve heard
whispers about crusade. This duel is like breaching a dam and letting the flood
loose.”

“Atuan’s beard,” Guy said. “Think you how enraged the Lion Emperor will be if he
hears that one of his men was slain by the Vahldomne. We’ll not be the only ones
baying for revenge and a renewal of holy war.”

Riannon’s hand dropped to where the hilt of the sword she was not wearing would
have been. Was that what Aveline wished a paladin for? To start a holy war for
her, commencing with one unbeliever at a time?

“I think the greater cause for concern,” Eleanor said, “is how our men will
react if the ambassador’s man kills the Vahldomne. It would be awful if the hero
returned only to die.”

Riannon saw a woman approaching and recognised her as one close to the queen.
The woman curtsied to Eleanor and informed her that the queen required her
presence.

“Is the naer, her sister, with the queen?” Riannon asked.

“No, lady,” the woman said. “Her Eminence departed some time ago for the grove
house.”

Riannon nodded. “Lady, would you excuse me from escorting you home?”

“I’m sure my men will prove adequate for the task,” Eleanor said. “Until later,
then?”

Riannon pressed a brief kiss to Eleanor’s fingers before stalking out of the
hall.

The priestess in the room behind the ever-open door stood hastily at Riannon’s
entrance. “Blessings on you, sir. How may we help you?”

“I must speak with the naer,” Riannon said. “Naer Aveline. She’s expecting me.
I’m Riannon of Gast.”

Aveline looked complacent when a priestess guided Riannon into a well-appointed
chamber.

“You asked what my purpose for you was,” Aveline said. “Now you have one.”

“You planned this before you took my oath,” Riannon said.

Aveline set her goblet down. “What if I did?”

“What you’ve done is not honourable. You deceived me. You paid that troubadour
to insult the ambassador. I know not what other wiles you used to provoke him,
but this whole matter is not well done.”

“They’re unbelievers. If you don’t think they deserve to be slaughtered like the
animals they are, you stand alone in the Eastern Kingdoms. Surely you heard
their emperor wants your entrails, Vahldomne?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“The modest hero. How bardically noble of you. If you –”

“I’ll not die for you,” Riannon said. “Find another to do this. I will not.”

Aveline’s eyebrow lifted. “Need I remind you of your oath?”

Riannon’s hand dropped to her side. “It was given to the Goddess, not to you.
I’ve told you before that I will not act dishonourably.”

Aveline spread her hands. “Is not defending my good name, and that of the
Goddess’s servants, an act worthy of you? The imperial lump of offal insulted me
and dared call our Wise Mother false and whore. You refuse to champion my
cause?”

Riannon folded her arms across her chest. “Why is it so important that you begin
a war?”

Aveline looked surprised.

“That is what you are working towards, is it not?” Riannon said. “Whether I win
or die in this duel, you’ll have pushed us closer to war with the empire.”

“Can I have underestimated you?” Aveline said. “Or do I hear Lady Eleanor
speaking? Yes, that’s it. She’s no fool, however much she plays at the merry
widow ready to flirt with one and all.”

“You’ve not answered me. Why do you want a war?”

“For the same reason as countless other people. There can be no peace while
imperial dogs defile the holy places in Evriat. We must reclaim those lost
lands. Purify them. Consecrate them again. Turn them back into fit places for
the worship of the true gods, and to allow their powers to flow again.”

Riannon nodded. “That is a worthy reason. But what is
your
reason?”

Aveline laughed and turned away to reclaim her wine. “Ah, cousin, you waste no
words, do you?”

“Whereas you twist and bend them and turn them inside out so that they seem to
be what they are not.”

“You wish me to be plain. Then let me essay it. I want you to champion the
Goddess against that imperial filth. I want you to kill him and prove that his
false gods are puny with pretension. Be what you swore to be. That’s what I
expect of you. You need not fear death. Your life belongs to the Dark-Faced One.
You live because of the blessed sword you carry. With that blade, you need fear
no trickery from such a foe. You have right on your side, because you are the
weapon I wield in the name of the Lady of Destiny. You face an infidel who
denies our Wise Mother and would defile her with insults.”

Riannon frowned. Aveline spoke truly. Riannon had sworn herself to serve the
Goddess. This was the very purpose she had been seeking. Live or die, she would
have honoured her oath. She would have given her life in a holy cause. She would
be assured of a place in paradise. Yet she did not feel uplifted by the
prospect. The problem was that, for the first time, she had something other than
her honour to lose – something to live for.

“Well?” Aveline asked.

Slowly, Riannon nodded.

Riannon pushed open the door to Eleanor’s bedchamber. Eleanor stopped and
turned. It looked as though she had been pacing.

“Nonnie!”

Riannon met Eleanor halfway and pulled her into a firm embrace. Eleanor’s arms
gripped just as tightly. Could she have guessed the news Riannon carried?

All the way back from the grove house, Riannon had worried the problem of
whether to tell Eleanor about the duel. Eleanor had a right to know that they
might have only one and a half more days together. But she did so fear violence.
Would it be best, for Eleanor’s sake, if she remained in ignorance until after
the event? It was the only protection Riannon could offer her, but she was
unsure that she should.

“Oh, my love.” Eleanor pressed her face against Riannon’s chest. “Why could we
not remain like this for the rest of our lives?”

Riannon’s heart sank. Eleanor sounded so melancholy, not at all like her normal
self. She must have deduced the truth. Riannon kissed the top of Eleanor’s head.