Galen’s eyes grew wide. He would protect these lands for Conan. Or die trying.
Before the Archbishop of Canterbury, Galen was knighted, one of the youngest ever. Then Conan made his pledge and oath to the Cross. Before leaving for Anselm, Conan discarded his faithful colors and donned the gray of the Crusaders, with the white cross covering his chest.
The total number of men-at-arms serving Anselm and Stoddard together totaled about three hundred. Of these, Conan would take twenty of the strongest and most willing, along with horses and the instruments of their profession.
The banner that was raised as the small party reached the gates of Anselm Keep was not that of the Blue Falcon, but of the Cross. The gates were opened immediately, for the soldiers of the Cross would always be admitted. Lord Alaric and Lady Udele stood in the courtyard ready to greet the Crusaders.
As Conan and Galen dismounted at a fair distance from their parents, a slow smile formed on Alaric’s face. He stood tall and easy as the men approached, one wearing the red and blue of Anselm and the other wearing the Cross.
Udele’s eyes widened and she slowly shook her head in silent denial. He was to stay in England, ready to take on the lands of nobles and landholders who did not survive the war! Now, without a sickly wife to hold him back, he would finally be able to pursue the acquisition of lands! Her lips formed a silent no. The color drained from her face as a new thought came to her: if he did not survive the Crusade, there would be nothing! Nothing! Before her husband noticed or her sons reached her, she fell to the ground in a faint.
Eight men already selected from the guard at Stoddard Keep arrived as prearranged with horses and
gear to travel with Conan to Ve
zelay. Twelve of Anselm’s finest prepared for the journey as well, offering Conan his troop of twenty sound knights. All was in readiness within two weeks’ time.
In the short time that it took Conan to prepare to leave,
Udele began to look her years. She would not bid her son a decent farewell and refused to give her blessings to a war that would not promise profit and risked death.
“
Do not be concerned,” Alaric told his son.
“
She fears for you as any mother would and will be praying for your safety before the sun sets on this day.”
“
Edwina, God rest her, would have yielded to my leaving with more grace than madam shows,” Conan said.
“
And it was Edwina’s passing that made your decision final?” Alaric asked.
“
The pain of her death was greater than I could ever have foreseen,” Conan said softly.
“
And she died knowing that my name was despoiled before my kind
--
before my king. For her devotion I must reclaim my good name. I cannot hold what is mine when no credence is given to my honor or strength. When I am returned I will finish what business I have left undone.”
Tired blue eyes crinkled at the corners in an affectionate smile.
“
You have found the man you must serve with the greatest loyalty,” Alaric said.
“
You have found yourself.” Alaric grasped Conan’s upper arms.
“
Go with God! Return victorious!”
Part
III
Chapter 16
The rains washed away the memory of winter, but for those who had suffered more privation than ever before, the easing of the weather with spring did not heighten their hopes. The energetic smiles that had once greeted those who entered the small hamlet of Cordell were gone, and now the village looked as many others, its citizens moving through their chores and duties without much pleasure or satisfaction. Sir Tedric had proved to be a leader bereft of compassion and decency. During the cold winter, he had collected a heavy tax to pay the scutage that freed him from service in the Crusade, and had hoarded the winter supply of food, yielding nothing to make the villeins more comfortable. His discipline was swift and harsh and his guards were as cruel as he was.
Chandra felt her strength begin to slip away many times, but she mustered her reserves and attempted to show courage if only for the sake of her people. Everywhere she looked she saw evidence of Tedric’s selfishness. Her people were left wanting and frightened. While she could not undo the trouble her husband had caused, she did what she could to encourage them all to endure and wait for a better day.
As she leaned over the small pond in the Cordell gardens, she looked at her face. She had not lived so very many years, and the bruise from her husband’s hand in one of his recent rages was healed, but her face had changed. Etched in the fine, delicate features, she could see the passing of her sister, the slow deterioration of her father as he learned of her miseries, and the slow destruction of the home she loved and cherished. And more closely, in the deep blue eyes, she could see the sad memory of sending a lover off to war. She turned
a
way from what she saw. Her beauty was not marred, but what emotional wounds lay beneath the flawless skin would take a long time to heal.
“
Lady,” Wynne said softly.
Chandra looked up to find the maid standing near, twisting her hands and looking down. Chandra stood and lifted her chin with a finger, looking into the innocent brown eyes.
“
Raise your eyes, Wynne, and straighten your back. Of all, you are least responsible for what has befallen you.”
“
It will take time, lady,” she said softly.
“
You have your dignity as long as you cling to it. Remem
ber that.”
“
Aye, lady,” she murmured, her eyes lowering, a habit for her now.
“
Wynne,” Chandra insisted,
“
do not face me with your shame. I too feel shame, for I was unable to protect you. Had I sent you far from here the moment I suspected Tedric’s lust, I could have spared you.”
“
I do not blame you, lady. You could not have done more.”
“
He is gone now?” Chandra asked.
“
Aye. He has only just left.”
“
Did he take many of his men?”
“
A goodly number. More than I would have guessed. A dozen, perhaps.”
“
We have that much to be thankful for. With so many of his brothers gone to war, Theodoric has need of him more often. And there is always hope that his father will see his wicked ways
--
”
“
He does not go to Theodoric,” Wynne said.
“
I heard him tell one of his riders that the message was not from his father.”
Chandra looked perplexed.
“
Do you know where he has gone?”
“
Nay, he did not say while I was near enough to hear. Lady
--
” Wynne started softly, unsure.
“
Hold up your head, Wynne. You must be strong. Some
day you will have your revenge.”
“
I do not seek revenge,” she said timidly, tears smarting in her eyes.
“
Do not fear him, Wynne,” Chandra ordered.
“
If he sees your fear he will take pleasure in frightening you.”
“
I do not fear him, lady. I fear God.”
Chandra laughed lightly and stroked the girl’s arm.
“
Even God would not condemn you for hating him, lass.”
Brown eyes bright with tears looked into caring blue.
“
Even if I carry his child?”
Chandra’s shock was evident. But she should have ex
pected this much. That Tedric had robbed the lass of her virginity weighed heavily enough on her mind: she had not even considered a child. The fact that she had not come with child herself as a result of their intimate encounters, however infrequent, had removed that worry from her mind.
She reached out and touched the hand that hung limp at Wynne’s side. She smiled kindly.
“
If there is a child, in spite of the sire, he will be only as good as his mother’s love. Do not despair,” she said, smiling even though this news brought pain to her heart.
“
Do not despair now, while there is a child growing within you. Now you must be strong and proud
--
if you wish your child to be.”
Wynne looked into Chandra’s eyes.
“
My father, lady. I fear his anger once this is known.”
Chandra sighed.
“
I stayed his vengeance once; I will try to do so once more.”
In the afternoon of that very day, Chandra donned her mantle and covered her golden locks with the snood. She left the warmth of the hall and made her way into the village streets. More men than usual were visible during this time of year. Cordell’s protective scheme was at a disadvantage during the winter months when the foliage in the forest was meager, but during the cold months the men stayed mostly in their homes. Now, while the rain drenched the wood and new leaves began to show, there were many in the village to help with the planting. Soon, as the protection of the new foliage concealed those in the wood, only those unable to act as guard would till the land. The able-bodied men would go into the forest.
Women were seen kneeling in the dirt to tend the tiny seedlings carefully. Whereas through the winter months the animals shared the shelters with their owners, now the children drove the animals farther out to their pastures. Monks from the neighboring monasteries began bringing their carts into the town again, offering to trade or sell their religious relics, carvings, animals and homegrown vegetables
f
or things they needed. Their appearance brought the villag
ers into the streets to hear what news would be brought from neighboring cities and towns.
Wynne’s father, William, was not really a knight
--
not in the true sense of the word. He was spoken of as Master William around Tedric and the other guard, but the people who knew he led the forest guard respectfully prefaced his given name with
“
Sir.”
He had earned at least that much,
Chandra thought ruefully.
William’s dwelling could be found at the farthest edge of the town, and there he would be tilling the land and watching over what little livestock grazed nearby. Chandra found him thus and quietly approached him as he worked. When he turned to see her, he bowed.
“
I would have come at your call, my lady,” he told her quickly.
“
I know that, William.” She smiled.
“
I chose to come myself rather than send for you.” She looked around her. His humble home was not rich, but was kept in a good state of repair. He had made neat rows in his garden in preparation for planting, and a goat stood tied to his fence. Leather flaps were the only guard against the cold entering his windows, and the roof was recently reinforced with fresh sod. He cared meticulously for what he owned and obviously took pride in this humble acreage.
“
Will you offer me a cup and a seat?”
“
Here, lady?”
“
‘Tis your home, William. I would be honored.”
He shrugged, somewhat surprised. It was not unusual for the lord and lady of the manor to venture into the village to view the commoners’ way of life, but to pay a social call was quite rare. Proudly he led her into the small hut and brushed the crumbs from his morning meal onto the floor, offering her the only chair at a modest trestle table and taking the stool for himself. There was a pitcher on the table filled with ale, rather bitter and stale, but the best he could offer.
“
I have no fine cups, m’lady,” he apologized.
“
Take up your own and I will use another.”
He poured what remained of the last user’s ale onto the rushes and set the cup before her, filling hers and his own to the brim. On a board on the table sat bread and cheese, and in a wooden bowl was honey. He gestured with his hand that she should indulge.
Chandra picked up the bread already cut from the loaf and dipped a corner into the honey, tasting it slowly. It was stale and dry, and the honey contained a few of the usual pests, drawn there by the sweetness. She daintily removed those she cared not to eat and chewed, washing it down with a sip of ale.
William joined her in taking a bite of cheese and bread, grinding it much more easily, for he was accustomed to its hardness. His, in fact, was one of the finer homes and his table more generous than most. He watched her slowly, wondering what matter brought her here. She might have him think this a pleasant social call, but he knew better.
They sat thusly for several moments, chewing and drinking, Chandra politely admiring some things about his home and he thanking her for her compliments.
“
You have acquired some comforts for your family, Wil
liam. You must be proud of what you have.”
“
My family has lived comfortably. We have been content.”
“
Has my family aided you in any way to accomplish all that you have?” she asked coyly.
“
Aye, lady, you know that. Without the confidence your mother placed in me I would be naught but a simple farmer here. I owe your family a great deal.”
She reached out and touched his hand, and he felt the dark stain of a blush rise to his cheeks. He had never touched a noble lady but to aid her in mounting her horse or help her in some other way. Certainly never with affection, as she touched him now.
“
There is no debt, William. Your loyal service and great strength have helped me and mine, and in times of trouble you have been my most dependable vassal.” She took a breath and looked at him for a moment. His eyes were bright with anticipation. He knew she was leading to a serious confrontation.
“
I bring you news that will be most difficult to bear. I ask you to summon your strength.”
He nodded once, his eyes narrowing.
“
Your daughter, Wynne, is with child.”
The lines on his face deepened as he clenched his eyes and mouth tightly. Finally he looked at her again.
“
You come to me in friendship like this,” he said slowly,
“
in hopes that my rage can be quenched by your
--
”
“
I come to you in friendship! And the rage I hope to
s
ubdue is not for my sake, but for yours. And the people of Cordell.”
“
Do you deny that this village would be better off with Sir Tedric gone?” he shouted, his fist hitting the small table with such force that the cup holding Chandra’s ale tipped and spilled onto her mantle. She ignored the spill and quickly covered his clenched fist with her own small, white hand and looked beseechingly into his eyes.
“
An arrow from the forest can end Tedric and remove him from this burgh, and who would know from whence it came?” she asked urgently, reading the man’s mind more accurately than she could know.
“
But it will not take the stain of Wynne’s defilement from her, nor will the child she carries vanish. It would remove one villain, William, and leave us one much worse
--
the sin of killing.”
“
This was once a good and peaceful place,” he said.
“
It will be a good place again. With God’s help.”
William turned and looked at his lady. She was not very much older than his own Wynne, and she looked meek and frail, an illusive covering to the strength he knew her to have. Indeed, she had borne much of the insult of Tedric’s cruelty on her own tender frame, without complaint or tears.
“
Do you fear I will act out my rage and slay your lord husband before the sun lowers in this day’s sky?”
“
Nay, William. Sir Tedric is gone and will not return for many days.”
“
So, you hope to see my temper cooled while he is gone.”
She nodded.
“
But I have held no secret from you, William. Wynne came to me only this morn.”