The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) (30 page)

That is why he wants to go.
Nadira rolled over to study his face. He must keep moving or drown. If he stays too long in one place his thoughts will pull him down to murky depths.
But
I do not want to go. I want to eat
those endpapers one day.

Beside her the snores became louder, then Montrose woke with a start, sitting up and fumbling in the dark for his imagined sword. The searching hand came to rest on her thigh instead of his blade. She smiled and whispered, “Touché, my lord.”

“Jesu. I was in some dark wood.” He shook his head.

“You were dreaming.”

“Am I still? Are you in my bed?” The hand on her thigh squeezed gently.

“No, my lord, you are in my bed,” Nadira lifted his hand and placed it on the blankets between them.

“Then I am in hell if I lay beside you and cannot touch you.”

Nadira nodded in the soft light, unsure if he could see her. “I fear your touch, my lord,” she whispered hoarsely. ”And I desire it.” For all the hours she had spent at his side caring for him, cleaning him, feeding him, touching him, she knew that this moment would come. She had been over and over it in her mind.

He was silent. Nadira could see the glitter of the low firelight reflected in his eyes. He nodded to himself, then his hand moved to touch her again. “I know what you fear,” he whispered.

Nadira raised her eyebrows. She had imagined arguments, entreaties, even a chase around a room, but not these words. “You do?”

His voice was low and even, careful of the sleeping Maria. “Your mother, my mother…I know that love is death.”

Nadira sat up quickly. That was not what she feared.
This is
what he fears
.
Not my fear. His. My fear is
bondage, not death.

He continued in a broken voice. “You are so small. So small.” One finger traced her thigh from her knee to her waist. “My child would kill you.”

Nadira tried to calm herself; the sound of her breath was loud in the dark. She took his hand, no longer warm but chilled with his fear. “Robert,” she spoke his name for the first time, “Love is not death.”

“It is.”

“It is not.” She squeezed his hand. “I will prove it to you.”

“No.”

Nadira leaned over his chest; his hand tucked between her breasts, and kissed him gently on his mouth. He let her. She pulled back to smile at him.

“Are you dead?” she teased.

“Yes.”

“My lord…”

“You cannot understand… I…”

Nadira interrupted by bending over and kissing him again, this time harder and with intent, lying nearly full across his body. She took his shoulders in her hands, then moved her kisses along his stubbled jaw and toward his ear. He halfheartedly tried to move her off but Nadira resisted, resting her teeth on his earlobe until she felt a firm masculine response against her thigh.

“There,” she whispered. “You are very much alive.”

“Good God, woman.”

“Do not move,” she warned. She moved her leg, lightly brushing the proof, feeling him shudder against her touch.

“I cannot without embarrassing myself.”

Nadira kissed his cheek. “Good. Then you concede defeat?”

“Yes. Please. Stop…”

“You are defeated with your own sword,” she teased, removing her leg from that sword.

“Oh, no. Don’t make me laugh. No…” He gasped.

Nadira felt him shake with the effort to suppress his laughter. She hugged him close, burying his mouth in her short hair. She put her lips to his ear again. “Never tell me that love is death. Never.” She squeezed his shoulders for emphasis. “We all die. All of us. Whether we live short lives full of love or long ones filled with fear. Do you understand me?”

He took her by the waist and lifted her over him so he could see her face. Nadira watched his eyes dart over her, searching. She smiled her love for him.

“Woman,” he swallowed. “Who are you?”

Winter marched on day by day. Some weeks there was snow, some the ground lay bare and frozen. Every day but Sunday found Nadira in the tower with William reading and copying as before, but now there was a difference. Montrose spent his time there, too, listening, fingering Conti’s curiosities with his left hand, his right still healing slowly.

Nadira examined it every day. It appeared the joint would never fully bend again. He could hold items, but not securely. Montrose had no chance to test his grip with a real sword, but he lifted scrolls and parried the air with them until William protested. Nadira laughed as the little friar chased after the big man trying to snatch the precious manuscripts from his hand.

Some days Conti joined them, but more often, he was in the solar doing work of his own. Nadira knew he was preparing something, but never had the courage to ask. She thought he may refuse to speak of it, and she feared greatly that he might wish to discuss his work. She knew that whatever the task he had set for himself, it must be complete by the spring. Montrose was restless and never warmed up to Conti’s offer of friendship. His eyes lay suspiciously on Conti and on William whenever the two were in the same room together.

Montrose glowered from the window where he sat massaging his thumb and watching the guard practice in the yard. “You do not wish me to claim her, cleric, when you cannot have her for yourself.”

William reddened. Nadira rolled her eyes. “Please.” She squeezed William’s hand. Montrose antagonized the scribe whenever he was bored or agitated. This jibe was merely one of many Nadira and William were forced to endure in the past month. “He is jealous of you, William,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. “He is right.”

“I can take her elsewhere to marry her.”

“You cannot marry her, my lord, and you know it very well.” William bent over his pen, also tired of the familiar repartee. “No church will post the banns. No court will honor it. She will not inherit your lands. Your children will not.”

Montrose grunted. “So be it. I have not seen my land in more than fifteen years. My brother-in-law holds it for me now. I have no wish to return. He pays me well to stay away.” Montrose turned from the window. “As for children, I do not desire them either. I resist the urge to bring innocents into this wicked world.” He shook out his hand, inspecting its condition for the hundredth time. “Soon I will be doing the Devil’s work. Or the Lord’s. I shall know which soon enough when I am dead.”

“What do you mean?” Nadira asked softly. His tone frightened her. He was prone to melancholy, and periodically needed to be brought back. Nadira pushed back the bench in case she needed to get up.

Montrose tilted his chin in her direction. “Only that when this business of the book is settled, there are other tasks I have set before me. There is the matter of my brother’s murderers. There is Alisdair and Garreth. None can tell me where they are, if they live or lie cold in the ground this winter. I have things to do.” He looked out of the window again, “I cannot wait for spring.” He flexed his hand.

“Then you plan to leave here.” Nadira smiled at the glee in William’s voice.

Montrose did not answer, but turned from the window and looked her full in the eye. “Come as my wife. I will honor you as such regardless of the law. I will swear an oath to you today if that will secure your faith and trust in me.”

“I do not need another oath. You have my trust. I fear only that by traveling with you without legal claim, I may be taken from you at some point.”

“Anyone who tries would be a fool. Then they would be dead.”

Nadira quickly lowered her eyes so he could not see them. She did not have the heart to remind him that she already had, in fact, been stolen from him once. As much as she loved him, and trusted his sincerity, the specter of such a repeat occurrence frightened her more than anything else she could imagine. She moved too late. He saw the fear. Montrose was at her side in two great strides of his long legs. He took her in his arms.

“I cannot be fooled again. From now on, I trust no one. Not a priest, not a friend. No one. It will not happen again. Not on my life.” He lifted her chin and bent to kiss her. When he finished, he searched her eyes to see if she believed him. “I would die first. Do you believe me?” he asked.

She nodded. She believed him. The fear did not leave her, however. He would die defending her, but then she would remain, belonging to whoever claimed her as his body lay cooling on the blood-soaked earth. She had seen it in the mountains. John and then Marcus. She did not try to stop the tears that squeezed from her eyes.

“Please, both of you.” William spoke without looking up from his work. “Monsieur remains lord of this tower. None depart except by his leave. He has been courteous to you, Lord Montrose, but I swear, should you try to leave with Nadira you will find yourself at the point of a sword. You may be powerful, but no man, no matter how strong, can fight his way past an army. Monsieur has set the entire guard on watch for you. You might be able to leave alone, but with Nadira you would be stopped.”

Nadira could see that Montrose knew this already. He barely changed his expression. Instead, he picked up the book William was reading. “When will monsieur be finished with her services?” he asked.

“Ask me directly,” Conti emerged though the trap. Montrose looked up; his hand returned the book to William.

“When will Nadira’s services no longer be required?” He repeated.

“She is not your property. I will acknowledge your claim on her, sir, but your cooperation is the price for your room and board, and my patience.”

“And if I refuse to pay?”

“There is a place for debtors…”

Nadira could bear the parrying no longer. “Gentlemen. We can come to an agreement.” She tugged on Montrose’s arm until he stopped glaring at Conti and replaced his sour expression with one that was merely cross.

“I have found what I need,” Conti continued. “William and Nadira have translated the documents pertaining to the elixir…”

“The poison, you mean,” Montrose took a long step toward Conti. Nadira held him back.

“Listen,” she soothed.

“Your threats are beginning to annoy me, Montrose.” Conti’s face lost all of its good humor and he no longer made pretense of courtesy. “I will not be hindered. If necessary I will have you again in chains!”

“My lord, you do us both a disservice to our host,” Nadira chastised Montrose, hanging on his arm as his glower deepened. “Please. Would you feel better in the kitchens or the stable? Maybe to your chamber to sleep.”

Her entreaties were effective, for Montrose must have realized he would rather be nowhere else than in this room.

His face softened, though his eyes remained hard. “Forgive me, monsieur, for my rude behavior and bad temper. I will strive to keep a good humor from now on.” He bowed. “And hold my tongue.”

Conti looked doubtful, but did not retort. “We shall have a very light supper, then retire to this room. Nadira will consume the elixir,” he watched Montrose carefully for a violent reaction. When there was none, he continued, “Then read to me from the copy. William will take down what she says.”

William began to clear his table. “I will be ready. I prepared more ink yesterday, and Cook brought me a handful of goose quills.”

“Very well. Preparations for you, Nadira, will be more involved. I have had Maria fill the cauldron in the laundry with fresh water from the spring. She will bathe you in salt water and selected herbs, then dress you.”

“Now?” Nadira puzzled.

“No. After supper. I must have more candles brought up and the floor swept. Perhaps all of you should rest now. It will be a late night.” He looked long and hard at each of them in turn before disappearing through the trap. Montrose waited until after he had completely disappeared before exploding.

“We are getting out of here, now! Get your things, Nadira. What, shoes? Cloak? We are leaving.” He was pacing back and forth before the windows rubbing his hands together, but not attempting to actually leave the room. William and Nadira watched him quietly from the table until his strides shortened somewhat. He turned on them. “What? Why aren’t you moving?”

“I know you are frightened…” Nadira began slowly.

“Bugger that! I’m terrified.”

“Please,” she sighed. “I’m not afraid. I can do this.”

“But I cannot. I cannot allow you to endanger yourself in this way.”

“I will be here the whole time. I will not be going anywhere. You can stay here with me,” she pleaded.

“But you will, won’t you. And you will be going somewhere where I won’t be able to protect you.” He stopped pacing. “I keep thinking of Henry. Richard.”

William cleared his throat. “I won’t let monsieur harm her, my lord.”

Montrose face darkened. “What can you do, cleric?”

“I will be praying.”

“You do that, priest,” he growled. To Nadira he said, “You are right. I will be right here the whole time. If anything happens to you, Conti will follow on your heels.”