The Rope Dancer (29 page)

He nodded at Telor. “Thank you, sir.” Then turned to Deri, “And you, sir, for backing my word. You may have the room, and welcome, and without cost. My girl told me you were in need of lodging.”

“She is too young to be serving with the town so full of men,” Carys said.

The cook shrugged wearily. “She is not so young, and she is surely safer than her sister or her mother would be. She is not to the taste of most, and I must have someone to help me. You can take your horses around to the back. There is a ladder to the loft there, but I have no shed or stall for animals, nor feed either.”

“I will try to find a stable to take them,” Telor said. “I have an errand to do and will ask on the way. If I cannot find a place, I will bring feed back with me.”

Carys had looked sharply at the small girl when the cook said she was not so young and was startled to see that the face was not that of a child. She was not the usual kind of dwarf either, with an overlarge head, twisted back, and too-short limbs. She was quite perfect—Carys could see that she even had well-formed breasts under her deliberately loose gown—only she was no larger than an eight- or nine-year-old child. Carys’s oppression lifted for a moment, and she was about to jab Deri in the ribs and point out what he had obviously not noticed when Telor had spoken.

The cloud of fear descended on her again, wiping the fact of the dwarf girl’s existence out of her mind. Carys asked fearfully, “What errand, Telor?”

“To buy some clothes in which I can appear before Lord William,” he answered in a low voice. “Deri and I must get rid of this armor as soon as we can.”

“True enough,” the dwarf replied. “The first man who sees me standing up in this hauberk will begin to yell for his captain. I will slip around to the back as soon as I can. You had better buy a tunic for me too—and a needle and thread to sew up the hem of this shirt.”

“You would do better to go tomorrow morning for your own clothes and get them fitted,” Telor pointed out. “You know you can never get anything wide enough—”

“No,” Deri interrupted sharply. “I need something to go out in tonight.”

As he finished speaking, the dwarf got up and hurried around the side of the shop. Telor followed him, signing Carys to stay where she was.

“Why do you want to go out tonight, Deri?” Telor asked.

“Fool!” the dwarf snarled. “Why should I lie in the same room with you and Carys and listen to your futtering? There is gold in my purse tonight, more than enough to buy me the same pleasure. You have made it plain that my warning was not enough to keep you from playing with Carys.”

“I am not playing with Carys,” Telor snapped.

“No more village maidens?” Deri’s brows rose in sardonic doubt.

“No more village maidens, nor fine ladies either,” Telor replied, but the anger had gone out of his voice. “It is no sudden virtue on my part. I seem to have lost my taste for them.”

“For how long?” The question could have held a sneer but did not, and Deri’s deep concern made Telor sigh again.

“For as long as Carys wants me,” he said steadily. “You were right that I wanted her from the beginning for her body and sweet face and bright eyes, but this is different from plain wanting, Deri. I am full when she is with me, empty when we are parted. My spirit is upheld by her cheerfulness and her high courage.”

“You have a way with words, that is sure,” Deri remarked with a tinge of bitterness.

The bitterness was directed at himself. He had been truly startled when Telor spoke of what he felt was Carys’s beauty, for Deri had never even thought her attractive. That Telor should see beauty in that scrawny body and peaked face testified to the depth of his attachment. Deri knew there could be no hope that Telor would tire of Carys, and Carys would cling like a limpet both because she felt happy and safe with Telor—as Deri himself had felt—and because women never did seem to tire of the minstrel. And Deri knew Telor would keep his word and would be faithful to Carys as long as she wanted him, so there would be no jealousy to disrupt them.

For once misunderstanding Deri’s tone and expression because he was so wrapped up in his own emotions, Telor shook his head vigorously and drove the knife in deeper. “They are not just words. Lusts of the body fade quickly, but desires of the spirit are long-lived. I feel that I will forever desire her and only her, body and soul, but I swear that even if that desire should die, I will never take another woman while she is with me. Could I hurt her? How many times has she saved my life?” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I have not always liked her methods—but I will not forget them either! Do you think I want to wake up with my throat cut or a knife in my eye? No man who knows her and is in his right mind would lightly make
Carys
jealous.” He put a hand on Deri’s shoulder, his face serious again. “I intend to marry her in church in the eyes of man and God, if I come alive out of what I plan to do, and if Carys is willing.”

Deri paled as eagerness to be needed by someone—as Carys would need him if Telor should die—and terror that Telor, to whom he owed so much, might be hurt, both emotions equally strong, tore at him.

“Come alive out of—What the devil do you mean?” Deri croaked.

In the flaring, uneven light of the one torch near the cookshop’s back door, Telor could not see so subtle a thing as a change in the dwarf’s complexion. He shook his head again. “Not now. I will tell you after I have spoken to Lord William. If he will not take the bait I hold out to him, I will have to think anew—and I do not need to listen to you calling me an idiot if nothing is to come of my plan. And I know already you think it wrong for me to lie with Carys when my life is in doubt, but I cannot help it. I want her. I have already been too close to death without once tasting her sweetness. I cannot bear to go without that.”

Deri’s eyes had been searching Telor’s face. Now he dropped them and nodded. “All the more reason for you to be alone with her.”

“But with the town full of men, the whores will be busy,” Telor said gently, “and we are newcomers. If they have regular customers—”

“Regular customers do not pay in
gold
,” Deri snarled.

“But there is no need,” Telor persisted. “I always intended to take Carys out. The night is fine. With two blankets—”

“We risked our necks to have this lodging not a quarter of an hour past,” Deri said. “If you want it to stand empty, that is your affair, but I will not sleep here this night. I have my wantings too, even if my soul has lost its mate. Now go and see if you can find a shop open this late and find me a replacement for this armor.”

Telor turned away feeling like a fool. Even if Deri did not want Carys, he must have been aroused by seeing her kissed and fondled. It had been a long while, Telor thought, since the dwarf had taken a woman—the maid would have had time for no more than a brief coupling in Castle Combe. It was quite natural that Deri should want relief, Telor told himself, but he felt uneasy, and he was frowning when he went around to the front of the cookshop and stopped to tell Carys he would be back in a short while.

“Is something wrong with Deri?” she asked anxiously.

“No,” Telor replied, trying to reassure her although he was not sure himself. “He wants to go awhoring, and I cannot be easy in my mind about it when the town is full of men-at-arms contesting for the same whores.”

“Cannot he wait for tomorrow? Only one day? We will be gone from here by then, will we not?”

Telor did not know how to answer that last question and was grateful to have an excuse to avoid the first two. He had not forgotten Carys’s fear of coupling and did not want her to spend the time he was away in an expectation that might grow more fearful than pleasant. In fact, bending over her, seeing her curls tipped now red, now gold, in the flaring torchlight, Telor did not want to go at all. But if he did not, Deri would be at risk—and he would have to answer Carys’s questions too. So he merely told her he would explain when he returned, putting his haste down to needing to find a shop that had something Deri could wear before all the shops closed.

Normally, of course, they would have closed at dusk. It was rare for anyone to do business after dark, but the flood of uncritical customers provided by the bored men-at-arms, some of whom had the easy money of winnings from gambling in their purses, induced even sober mercers to place flaming torches at the sides of their outdoor counters and light the interiors of their shops with an array of candles. Telor found exactly what he needed without difficulty, replacing shirt, braies, tunic, and cloak, choosing fine cloth in rich but sober colors, and paying without haggling. Since it was not his money but that of Orin’s men, he did not care how he spent it.

Then he said he wished to buy a gift for a friend who was a dwarf, since he had come by some money. The shopkeeper merely nodded and looked thoughtful. He had been surprised by Telor’s taste, which seemed more like that of a rich burgher than a man-at-arms, but any client who paid with such indifference was entitled to any quirks of character or friends he liked. Telor had expected to be told such garments must be made to the special measure of their wearer or to receive only a shrug or shake of the head, but the man recommended another shop where the owner had obtained the clothes of a very old and even more old-fashioned Englishman, who had died.

“I do not know your friend as you do,” he said as he folded Telor’s new garments into the old, shabby cloak that had been rolled behind one of the saddles and Telor swung the new cloak over his shoulders, “but the tunics are very short, not much below the hip, so they may fit—if the garments have not yet been picked apart.”

He accompanied Telor out to where his horse was tied and helped fasten the bundle of clothing behind the saddle, bowing as Telor mounted and asking him to be sure he told the second shopkeeper who had recommended his place. Telor agreed readily, and fortunately the old man had been fat with age. Although the tunics had been cut to fit swollen limbs and a deep paunch, the extra cloth would also give room to Deri’s broad-muscled chest and arms.

There was only one drawback—this old man had apparently been wealthy as well as fat. All the garments were of the finest cloth and richly embroidered. That could make trouble in several ways, Telor feared, but he knew Deri’s stubbornness. If Deri had determined to go out, he would, and to go in the armor he was wearing or in torn clothes stained with old blood would be far more dangerous than wearing the rich tunic. Then Telor smiled and chose not only a shirt and tunic but a short cloak. It had occurred to him that with Lord William and doubtless other knights in the town, it was less likely men would think Deri stole his garments and his gold than that he was a
very
rich man’s plaything. That would assure Deri’s safety and might even further his purpose of finding a woman, since few would dare offend a dwarf dressed in a gold-embroidered tunic and furred cloak lest he complain to his master. With that in mind, Telor picked out the very richest cloak and since he was buying both, got a better price.

It was a tremendous relief to feel that Deri would have some protection, since Telor really did not want the dwarf staying in the room with him and Carys. He realized the best chance for arousing her enough to let him take her was what Deri had offered—a soft pallet in the privacy of a closed room, and now he could seize that chance without guilt.

None of the stables Telor passed could take their horses, and his compulsion to get back to Carys would not let him spend more time to seek out others. When he came to a stable close to the street where the cookshop was, Telor bought a sack of grain and a truss of hay to carry back with him. By then he noticed that nearly all the torches marking shops were out, counters drawn in and shutters fastened. There was just barely enough light from those shops where customers were still chaffering for him to recognize the side street where the cookshop was.

Surely it was too late to seek Lord William that night, Telor told himself, especially if he had to take the time to change his clothes. A twinge of guilt disturbed his rising spirits. He knew quite well there would be guards awake in the lord’s lodging who could take his name and perhaps save him hours of waiting the next day. But why should he save the hours, he asked himself. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do; with plenty of money and no need to perform, he had time enough to wait Lord William’s convenience, whereas if Carys fell asleep before he came back and he had to wake her, she might be cross and unwilling—and he had promised that if she said him nay, he would not press her.

He was half convinced before he reached the cookshop, and when Carys came flying down the ladder from the loft above the shop as he rode into the yard, he did not give Lord William another thought. He almost fell off his horse in his eagerness to dismount, and striding forward, he clutched her to him, uncaring of what the cook might think if he looked out his back door and saw them.

“What is wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” Carys replied with a nervous laugh, but her voice shook. “I do not know what ails me. I just cannot rid myself of a terrible feeling that some great ill will befall us, and all the time you were away I felt you were in trouble…Oh, Telor, I am afraid, so afraid, and I do not know of what.”

Telor kissed her hair and stroked her back gently. He could not help wondering if what she feared was the coupling that she must think was inevitable now, but he did not want to plant the idea openly in her mind if she was hiding it from herself. All he said, in a cheerful tone, was, “But here I am, back safe, as you can see. Come, let us attend to the horses before we go in.”

“You are not going out again?” she asked, seeming to hold her breath.

Telor tightened his grip on her just a trifle, wondering whether she wanted him to go, but he would not offer her the assurance he feared she desired. Then he shook his head and released her, and saw to his surprise that she was smiling tremulously. And when she told him that Deri had rubbed down the three horses now tied in the yard, her voice was steadier than it had been and her quick breathing had slowed. He would have been satisfied, if she had not kept peeping at him as they unsaddled his mount and rubbed it down, piled the hay where all the animals could reach it, and set out grain for each. There was water enough in a trough-like wooden thing—Telor had no idea what its true purpose was—also set where all the horses could reach it, so he turned to take the saddle to the shed where Carys indicated the others were stored, and saw that both bundles of new clothes were gone.

Carys seemed so much more cheerful after being busy for a time that Telor was afraid to renew her fears—in case they had not been of him—by explaining to Deri his idea that the dwarf should claim to be a powerful man’s “fool.” Perhaps, he thought, cheered by the fact that Carys came without any sign of reluctance when he said it was time to go up, the same notion would occur to Deri on his own. In any case, when he and Carys had climbed up to the loft, a single glance around as soon as his eyes adjusted to the relatively bright light of several candles showed that Deri had already gone. The candles also made an easy first subject to remove any awkwardness that might rise from being alone in a private bedchamber. Telor gestured around and asked about the lavish illumination.

“I was frightened, so I lit them all,” Carys said with a slight shudder, but then she smiled, and this time her lips did not tremble. “The men-at-arms must have left them, thinking their friends would have the place.”

“Are you afraid of
me
, Carys?” Telor asked softly. “I promise there is no need. Dearling, no matter how strong my desire, I will not force you. I do not forget that I swore yea or nay would be yours to say. I will keep my oath.”

He put out his hand but did not touch her, although they were close, and was puzzled because for an instant she looked startled, not fearful but surprised. And then she laid her hand in his.

“I will say yea, then,” she murmured, watching his face, “for men who keep other promises often do not keep those that concern a woman’s body.”

There was still a small core of uneasiness in Carys, but most of it had dissipated when Telor had returned. It had not been easy to read his expression in the crazy light of the one torch the cook had left burning in the yard, but it seemed to her that the glare of insane joy was gone from his eyes. And when she saw his face in the candlelight and he spoke of her fear, she suddenly began to wonder whether it was not she who was a little mad. Could that eager glow she had read as madness have been no more than passion? And surely there was a light in Telor’s eyes again as he drew her against him and kissed her. So deep a passion for her? Carys found it hard to believe, but she closed her eyes. If she was wrong now, she did not wish to know it.

Telor did not linger long over the kiss. He lifted his head and grinned at her, and Carys could not help but laugh because there was more mischief than lust in his face.

“So, quickly,” he said, “before you change your mind, help me off with these clothes.” And cloak and sword belt were off and tossed aside before he finished the sentence.

That made Carys laugh harder. “I am not sure whether to blame you for believing me the most fickle woman in the world or for being the vainest man. Do you think I will be so enraptured by your nakedness that I will be unable to deny you?” However, even while laughing she tugged at the stiff armor and at last was able to pull it over his head and drop it on the floor.

“Not at all!” he exclaimed, assuming a spurious look of deep hurt when his head was free. “I only want to get on with my task, and I told you before that my clothes get in the way.”

“Task! Is that what I am to you? A task?”

Carys knelt to undo Telor’s cross garters as she spoke, and despite her words, she was not offended. Telor’s arming tunic and shirt had swiftly followed the armor, and it was plain enough from Carys’s position as he added his shoes to the pile and worked at the tie of the braies that his task was also his pleasure and his desire. As the braies fell, Carys reached up and flicked the standing shaft that was filling her vision with a playful finger. Telor gasped, then, teasing, groaned and rolled his eyes—and Carys jumped to her feet, eyes wide with renewed fear.

“I beg your pardon,” she whispered, tensing to retreat as he quickly freed one foot and then the other from the braies. “I have never done such a thing in my life!”

Telor caught her chin in his hand, but his grip was light enough that she could have pulled free if she wished. “Never laughed and loved together? Poor little vixen. It was not a mortal hurt. You need only stroke him gently to make amends.”

He drew her still closer and kissed her, lingeringly this time, holding her with one arm while the other undid her belt. When that had joined his garments on the floor, he released her lips and ran both hands down her body. As his hands came up, her tunic came with them and was gone.