Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (14 page)

"Iliana." Camdork's deep voice came from the
shadows. "Edward was unable to find Sorenta."

Iliana reached for a candle on the table and lit the wick in
the fire. Camdork stood there, holding his arm against his stomach. Instantly,
she took in the blood soaked cloth. She dropped the iron rod onto the hearth
stone with a clatter and hurried forward.

"What have you done?" Alarmed, she gently urged
him toward the meager light.

"A flesh wound," he admitted. "I will have
some of Sorenta's potions and it will be right as rain on the morrow."

Iliana made a disgusted sound as she carefully unbound the
blood soaked linen strips. "It is already the morrow and it certainly does
not look right as rain." She hooked a stool with her toe and nudged it to
the fire pit. "Sit down."

He did not comply at once and she glared at him. Camdork
smiled.

Iliana narrowed her eyes. "You are drunk."

He shook his head, but his eyes danced in the meager light.
"I don't think you can get drunk on that foul tasting cider Thomas brews
in the cellars."

Iliana pressed her lips together to keep back a smile,
knowing Thomas' reputation in that regard. "Sit."

"He makes a much better carpenter," Camdork
remarked, sitting on the stool and staring up at her.

Iliana sucked in her breath as she looked at the nasty wound
along his forearm. "Did you get drunk and incite a fight?"

He looked at her, one brow raised indignantly. "No, my
lady. Camdork had a notion to sink his knife into my back." He grinned.
"The cider came later to dull the pain."

Iliana heated water in a small pot over the fire pit, but
looked back at him now.

He shrugged. "You know my name is not his."

Iliana pondered his answer as she cleaned the wound, then
retrieved Sorenta's medicinal powder from the basket she kept in the hall.
"This must be changed every day and kept very clean." She leaned over
him as she worked the healing powder into the wound. Despite his slightly
inebriated state, his scent was more the brisk outdoors than the sour smell of
cider and ale. Her gaze locked with his, and an uncomfortable heat began to
brew within her stomach. "I also have several gemstones which will aid in
healing," she said abruptly. "I will wrap them in linen and you must
sleep with them at night."

"And will these gemstones keep me warm?" he asked
with humor.

Iliana stared at his face so close to hers. He sat very
still, and if he had moved to imprison her within his arms, she could easily
have tipped him backwards on his stool. She blinked warily, her palm now on his
chest. A man well made, handsome despite his many scars and with a smile that
promised delights both wicked and tantalizing. Deep in her heart something
softened.

Iliana had walked a lonely path for many years, but now she
leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Although a light touch, it made her
wish for more.

He came to his feet and as he did so something fell to the
floor.

Iliana looked down at the small pouch lying at the base of
the hearth. Slowly, she bent and lifted it, then looked at him.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked.

"Yes." A cold, hard knot clutched her stomach
where moments before desire had curled.

"What is it?" he asked.

Iliana grabbed a knife from the table, quickly slashed the
pouch and tipped the contents onto her palm. In the firelight the small emerald
chips winked and seemed to have a life of their own.

She bit back the overwhelming disappointment, the tears that
threatened. "This gem pouch belonged to my maid Agnes, the girl who was
murdered."

She saw the understanding on his face and Iliana felt sick.
"Leave."

"Camdork," he muttered, but he said not another
word. He left the hall as she had bid him to do.

Iliana put her arms around her waist, staring at the flaming
logs, sick at heart where moments before she rejoiced.

Iliana hurried across the courtyard, hoping to catch one of
the serving girls before they all left for the fair. Slipping through the
postern door, she saw Rowenna and waved at the young girl.

"Rowenna," she called. The girl hesitated, then
looked back, her deep vermillion costume standing out from the others.

"Yes, my lady?" Her freckled face lit with a smile
as she walked back toward her.

Iliana held up her arm, displaying the ribbons in her hand.

"I have a small favor I would ask of you, Rowenna.
Could you see that the children receive these ribbons?"

Rowenna's smile faltered, her face became grave. "My lady,
such grand ribbons. Do you not attend the festivities?"

Iliana forced a smile, then admitted, "I think it would
be best if I did not."

Rowenna looked worried, her brows knit. Finally, she
blurted, "My lady, no one blames you for Agnes' death."

Iliana felt a coldness clutch at her insides.

"'Tis true," whispered the young girl. She moved
her face closer to Iliana's. Iliana could see each of the fine blond hairs of
the young girl's brows and lashes.

Rowenna lowered her voice, "Mandrak has a mind to frighten
us, but we won't give up hope. We know you will find a way to banish his
lot."

Warmth replaced the coldness in Iliana. Despite the grip of
fear she'd been under, she managed a laugh. "Rowenna, if only I had your
certainty. I have heard that many have already fled."

"Some have fled, that is true, but many still believe
in you, my lady. Please," softly, her hand touched Iliana's sleeve,
"I beg of you, please come to the fair. And what of little William? He
will delight in the treats of the fair. You will be sore missed if you do
not."

Iliana was touched. "Thank you. I will think on it. I
would still ask that you give the children the ribbons."

"I shall be pleased to do so." Shyly, the young
Rowenna whispered, "I thank you again for this beautiful costume."
Curtseying, the young girl then ran to catch up with her friends, the colorful
ribbons tucked into her belt.

"Iliana."

Catching her breath, Iliana whirled to see Camdork, the
softness in her eyes unguarded. Quickly, she erected her guard once more and
shoved one hand into the double belt of her tunic where she had stuffed Agnes'
small pouch.

He studied her. "I understand there is to be a
celebration today?"

"Yes." Iliana walked back into the courtyard.

"I would be pleased if you would let me escort
you."

Iliana lifted a brow. "I think not."

A large hand on her arm made her stumble to a halt. "We
may as well have this out," he said. "I found that pouch, Iliana,
near the stables."

"Of course you did," she said coldly, pulling her
arm from his grasp.

"I am at a loss how to make you see I am not him,"
he said as she walked away.

In truth, Iliana felt torn. In the short time he had been
here, he had not shown any signs of cruelty. In fact, quite the opposite -- she
had heard of how he'd saved the pregnant woman from being struck down the day
of his arrival, and he had given orders the men were to sleep outside at night,
thereby keeping her serving girls safe from their attack at night. What if she
was wrong to persist in this hatred of him? What if he spoke the truth? And yet
Agnes still lay dead.

"I found the pouch when I encountered Camdork. It was
on the ground after he stabbed me."

Iliana felt torn. She remembered the words in the sacred
circle. How could he be involved with the secret to the green gem?

"There is nothing I can do to prove my innocence,"
he said, "until the day you see Camdork for yourself."

"And yet by your word he skulks about the keep at
night."

"That is true. Though after our skirmish, his skulking
may be impaired. He may have broken his hand and arm."

Iliana sighed with frustration. "I wish --"

"What?"

"I wish my life tapestry would show him to me, but all
I see are shadows."

"Sometimes you have to go on the feeling inside your
gut," he said. "I would not trust a tapestry to show me how my life
should begin and end." And it was he who turned and walked away this time.

Iliana gripped her hands together. Quickly, she followed
him. "I apologize for my behavior," she said.

He turned to her in surprise.

She took a deep breath. "I did not plan to attend the
fair," she said stiffly. "So there is no need for you to trouble
yourself."

He smiled gently. "I assure you it is no trouble to
escort a beautiful young lady to a fair."

Iliana could not help but notice the way the breeze lifted
the fine blond hair from his shoulders.

"And who better to show me the fair other than
yourself?" he queried quite reasonably.

"Perhaps I could find a few moments this
afternoon."

He nodded. "That is settled then. We shall go
together." He fell into step beside her. "Why was there so much
activity early this morn? I swear all the young ladies were out before the sun
was up."

"There is a belief that on May Day one should wash one's
face in the new morning dew. It is said to have magical powers."

"I did not see you among the maidens." His voice
held a hint of a smile.

Frowning, Iliana willed away the trembling of her knees. The
man confounded her with his gentle humor. "I was busy with other
matters," she said briskly.

"What could be more important than being happy and
acting in accord with the celebration?"

"I had to see to the cleaning of the bedchambers and
that new rushes were put in place in the dining hall."

"Ah, yes, I see, much more important matters."

Iliana halted, staring up at him. "Do you think to mock
me, sir?"

He looked all innocence, spreading his hands wide. "I
would never be so bold." His grin gave lie to his words.

Iliana frowned, staring at his arm. "How is your wound
today?"

"It is mending. The healing powder is a wonder."

"It looks as if it still bleeds." Iliana stared at
a small dark stain at the center of the binding.

"The linen needs to be changed. I shall see to
it," he said, shrugging.

Not sure how to deal with this man, Iliana let out her
breath and shook her head.

"If you will excuse me, I have other duties that need
my attention," she said, hurrying into the courtyard. 

"I am heartily glad for your attention," he said,
keeping pace. "Even after I am gone from this place, I will remember the
scent of lavender in my bed linens."

Iliana stopped. "It is not a matter to laugh at -- you
would be most unhappy should you awake in the morn with your head and body full
of fleas." She walked away from him again and this time he did not follow.

"Iliana," he called.

She did not stop but quickened her step.

"I shall call for you after the noon hour." Before
she entered the keep she looked over her shoulder to see him striding toward
the inner courtyard and no doubt his war games. If he were to play today, he
would reopen the wound. With a grimace of disgust, Iliana resigned herself to a
day in his company.

And yet, she felt at war with herself. He acted at times
like two different people. The man who seemed as if he wanted to win her over,
and the other one, the one she'd heard brutal stories about. For now, she wanted
to trust the one he said he was.

¤¤

Erik smiled and he scratched his head, her mention of fleas
giving him a sudden notion to scratch. His chambers were clean, but of course
he'd heard of such infestations in these times. He sighed a bit with
discouragement. He seemed only inches closer to piercing Iliana's defensive
shell than when he'd first arrived. He could see she was determined to hold him
at arm's length, and really, who could blame her? He'd learned more than he
liked from Camdork's men of the stealing, rapes and numerous brutal assaults
the man was known for. How do you turn such a reputation around? Of course, the
discovery of Agnes' pouch had been a big mark against him.

He smiled though, thinking of the early morn. Her care of
his wound, and then the desire he had seen in her eyes. Surely it was a good
sign.

Erik entered the courtyard, taking note of a game of dice
being played by Ulrich and several others in front of the stables. One of the
washerwomen whose acquaintance he had made and who had offered to see to the
washing of his garments, was hanging the morning's wash over rails and thin
lines strung across her wash area, while children ran around the men at arm's
dice game.

Erik watched the dice game, surprised to see Ulrich
participating, as he usually stayed apart from the men -- and winning by the
look of it. From time to time he'd wondered if Ulrich was different; he'd
witnessed no meanness or brutality from that one. In fact, although his size
was massive in comparison to most men, he seemed to stand apart from the many
skirmishes that broke out.

As Erik drew near, one of the running children was shoved
toward the dice game by another fellow, and he fell in the middle of a dice
throw, landing on top of the dice. Erik hurried his steps as two of the men at
arms stood and began yelling at the boy. That's when Erik realized it was young
Edward.

One of the men reached for his knife just as Erik stepped up
to him. "No," Erik said, getting in the man's face.

"The little rat ruined my throw. I was going for a
hundred," the man snarled. "It was to be my win."

"Put away the blade."

Ulrich reached in and pulled the boy up by the back of his
tunic and to his feet. "Go on, disappear," he snarled.

The wide eyed boy quickly took flight, scuttling away from
the man with the knife.

"I'll run 'im down," the man with the knife said.

"Your name?" Erik said.

"Elwin."