While Angels Slept (44 page)

“Do not be sad,”
she said. “Look at her face; there is a smile on it. Do you think she was happy
to have met me?”

Tevin blinked
back his tears. “Of course she was,” he said hoarsely. “She was very honored.”

Arabel looked at
the woman, somehow beautiful in death as she had not been in life.  Her skinny
fingers lingered on the woman’s hand. “Will we bury her in the cathedral now?”
she asked. “She is your wife, after all. That makes her a countess.”

Tevin looked at
Cantia, who was wiping the tears off her face. It was Cantia who answered.

“She will be
buried with the greatest of honors, as the wife of the Earl of East Anglia,”
she said softly. “But, more importantly, she was your mother. That affords her
the greatest and most honorable funeral of all. Would you like that,
sweetheart?”

Arabel nodded,
lifting her arms to her father, who scooped her up off the floor. Thin arms
wrapped around her father’s neck, she gazed at Cantia.

“Did you know
your mother, Cantia?” she asked.

Cantia’s gaze
moved to the dead woman, her attention lingering there for a moment.  Thoughts
of her own past hovered in her mind. “Nay,” she looked away. “She died when I
was very young. I do not remember her at all.  In that respect, I think you
were very fortunate to have met your mother. I wish I had.”

Arabel reached
out a bony hand to Cantia, who took it snuggly. “I think I was fortunate, too,”
she said, squeezing Cantia’s hand. “She said that I am meant to protect my
father. I think I shall protect you, too.”

Cantia smiled
gratefully as they moved to the doorway, opening the panel to reveal the
brilliant sunset beyond.  Streamers of orange and yellow brushed across the sky
and they all paused, gazing up into the coming night because it was so
beautiful.

“Soft strokes of
the colors of sunset that appear vibrant against the deep blue sky,” Arabel uttered
softly, repeating the words her mother had spoken to her as she looked up at
the brilliant night. “Father, do you think she meant to leave this sunset for
us?”

Tevin followed
his daughter’s gaze. Then he kissed her cheek and managed to stroke Cantia’s
shoulder affectionately. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so satisfied or so
free.

“I do not think
she meant it for all of us,” he said softly. “I think she only meant it for
you. It is the last gift she could give you.”

Arabel liked
that thought. As she looked up into the glistening clouds, somewhere, someway,
she could see Louisa winking at her.

She winked back.

EPILOGUE

July 1156 A.D.

“Mother,” the
young man was very serious. “I am quite capable with a sword. You must not
worry.”

Cantia was seated
in the solar of Thunderbey Castle, gazing up at Talus and wondering when her
little boy had grown up.  At sixteen years of age, he was already as tall as
his father although he lacked Tevin’s bulk. That would come with time, she
knew, but it was difficult for her to separate the young man from her little
boy. She had already been forced to do that with Hunt before she was ready, as
he was now the powerful Steward of Rochester at the young age of twenty one
years.  He had Brac’s good looks and sensibilities but Tevin’s heart and soul. 
It was a wonderful combination.  

Now, Talus was
her second oldest, an extremely handsome young man with her lavender eyes and
Tevin’s features.  He even had his father’s long, copper colored hair. But she
wasn’t sure she was ready for him to grow up completely.

“Mother?” Talus
said impatiently. “Did you hear me?”

Snapped from her
day dreams, Cantia sighed heavily. “I heard you,” she said. “Where is your
father? What does he have to say to all of this?”

“He sent me here
to tell you.”

Cantia’s eyes
narrowed. “He did?” She set aside her sewing and stood up. “Where is he?”

Before Talus
could reply, there was much chatter and laughter descending from the upper
floors. The small solar was tucked back in the big, box-shaped keep of
Thunderbey underneath the stairs, so any movement up and down the stairwell
always tended to sound like a herd of cattle running about. Noise echoed. 

Eleanor du
Reims, the image of her gorgeous mother at fifteen years of age, was the first
down the stairs with her siblings close behind. She held on to the youngest
child, Kinnon, who was only four years of age, but Tarran, Tristen and
Elizabetha were clustered in behind her, antagonizing each other. As children
verging on young adulthood, they tended to be confrontational with each other.
As Cantia listened to Tarran harass his younger sister, she called out to them.

“Tarran,” she
said in a threatening mother-tone. “Stop pestering your sister. All of you;
come in here, please.”

The gaggle of
children wandered into the solar, Kinnon running to his mother and lifting his
arms to her.  Cantia picked up her youngest, a blond little boy who looked a
great deal like Hunt had at that age. She looked at the group around her.

“Talus,” she
addressed her son. “Your father is taking an army to Wales and I am quite sure
he did not ask you to join as a full-fledged warrior. I believe he is taking
you and your brothers as squires.”

Talus was
grossly unhappy as Tarran and Tristen beamed; at thirteen and nine years of
age, respectively, they had recently been called home from fostering at
Pontefract Castle because it had been heavily besieged by the Scots twice in
the past two years, and Cantia was frantic to bring her children home.
Begrudgingly, Tevin had ridden north to bring the boys home, who weren’t quite
so sure what their mother was all worked up about. Their father said it was
something about the irrational Scots. Now, with the prospect of accompanying
their father to the Welsh border on behalf of King Henry I, they were
thrilled.  But Talus was jealous because his younger brothers had seen more war
action than he had.

“But I have my
own sword,” Talus argued. “Father will not allow me to use it because he knows
how upset you become. He….”

Talus’ argument
was cut off when the door to the keep entered and the grating of mail could be
heard.  Tevin made an appearance in the solar entry as Elizabetha and Tristen
ran to him, both of them trying to talk to him at the same time.  Tevin threw
up his hands.

“I cannot
understand more than one conversation at a time,” he said, bending over to kiss
Elizabetha on the forehead and putting a fatherly hand on Tristen’s shoulder. 
“What is all the fuss about?”

“What it is ever
about?” Cantia sighed. She went to her husband, kissing him.  “Talus has
informed me that he will be accompanying you as a warrior and not a squire to
the Welsh marches. Is there truth in this?”

Tevin looked at
his tall son, wriggling his eyebrows at the lad. “I told him he could bring his
weapon,” he admitted as he looked at his wife. “Lord Marmion swore to me that
Talus is already a very good warrior, and I must concur. I have seen Talus in
practice and the lad has no equal.”

Cantia lifted an
impatient brow. “I realize he was the shining hero of Tamworth Castle when he
fostered, but I also know that he is only sixteen years of age. I am not
entirely sure he should be fighting Henry’s wars.  He is not even a
full-fledged knight yet.”

Tevin’s gaze was
a mixture of warmth and disappointment. “Do you not trust my judgment any more
than that?”

Cantia sighed
heavily and set Kinnon down, who was beginning to squirm. “Of course I do,” she
said, more gently. “But you are also a proud father and… Eleanor, why don’t you
take the children into the hall?  The nooning meal should be ready.”

Eleanor took
Kinnon and Elizabetha, but the older boys seemed inclined to hang around until
Tevin gave them a threatening glare and pointed to the door.  Only then did
Tristen and Tarran move, however slowly, with the other children. Talus, however,
didn’t seem to think the request pertained to him until Tevin literally grabbed
the boy by the shoulder and pushed him towards the door. Unhappy, Talus
followed the rest.

When they were
finally alone in the solar, Tevin looked at his wife.  Outside in the ward, he
could hear the shouts of sentries, alerting the castle to an incoming rider,
but he ignored the cries as he focused on his wife.

“I know you are
unhappy about my going to the marches,” he said softly yet sternly. “You have
made that clear, and I have made it equally clear that I must go.  I am too
important to the king’s arsenal and he is determined to unite England and
Wales, so I must do this. It is important.”

Cantia didn’t
have a logical reply for him because she knew he was right, so she frowned
verily and he put his arms around her, pulling her close.

“You are too old
to be fighting,” she protested weakly. “You must leave it to the younger men. You
have already put in your time, Tevin. You fought for Stephen for years and now
Henry. I do not want you on the front lines any longer. I want my husband
home.”

“And I
am
home,” he chided gently. “You wanted Talus home, so I brought him home.  Then
you wanted Tristen and Tarran home because you were afraid for them, so I
brought them home as well.  Eleanor came home from Kenilworth when she was
twelve because you could not bear to be away from her, and Elizabetha and
Kinnon have yet to even foster and I am not entirely sure they ever will.  We
are all home with you, Cantia, and if it were up to you, we would be all
bottled up safety in the bosom of Thunderbey for the rest of our lives.”

Cantia was
deeply frowning by now. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to have my
children and husband safe and home.  We have seen enough fighting and battles,
you and I.”

He kissed her
forehead. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But England is only safe so long
as the next generation is prepared to defend and preserve her. Talus is ready
to do that, as are Tarran and Tristen.  You must let them grow up, and I must
show them how. Will you please let me do that?”

Cantia tried not
to let depression overwhelm her. So she simply hugged him, knowing she couldn’t
adequately voice her protests to the point where he would understand her. Not
this time. He was right and they both knew it.

“Life seemed
much simpler during the days of Rochester,” she muttered. “When did it become
so complicated?”

Tevin laughed
softly. “You mean the days of Charles and Gillywiss?”

Cantia smiled in
spite of herself as she remembered the outlaw, from so long ago, who had
changed the course of her life.

“I miss him,”
she muttered. “I miss his eccentric ways. Do you remember when he came to our
wedding dressed as a woman? I would not have known it was him except he was
wearing one of my old surcoats.”

Tevin snorted.
“I remember that Simon flirted with him and then nearly killed him when he
found out he was a man.”

That brought
soft laughter from Cantia. “And Arabel,” she murmured. “She was oddly attached
to him after that.”

“She knew he had
brought her mother to her. It endeared her to him.”

“It endeared him
to us all.”

“She told me
that he had visited her at the abbey a few times. Did she mention that to you?”

Tevin nodded as
he thought on his frail, intelligent daughter who had, at age eighteen, decided
to pledge herself to holy servitude. It had seemed to be the right decision for
her, but he missed her tremendously. What was it he had told Cantia?
You
must let them grow up.
It was easier said than done.

Tevin sighed,
his cheek against the top of Cantia’s head. “Times did seem simpler back then
but I know they were not. Time has a way of easing memories until all you can recall
is the good.”

Cantia was
forced to agree but she was prevented from replying when Talus suddenly burst
back into the room, holding something aloft in his hand.

“Father,” he
sounded eager. “A messenger just came from Lohrham Forest!”

Tevin looked
startled for a moment, glancing at his wife. “Myles,” he muttered, moving to
his excited son and collecting the missive the young man held. He stared at it
a moment before breaking the seal. “It must be about….”

Cantia was
beside him, literally twitching with excitement and apprehension. “Oh, it
must
be,” she said anxiously. “Hurry and read it. What does it say?”

Tevin had the
missive unrolled. By this time, the other children had wandered back into the
solar because they, too, had seen the messenger from their position in the
great hall. Knowing they had all be awaiting news from Lohrham Forest, the
small castle where Myles and Val had lived for many years, they were anxious as
their parents were to hear the contents of the missive.  Tevin could see his
brood in his periphery but his gaze was fixed on the carefully scripted
letters.

“I have prayed
daily for them,” he muttered, trying to bring the message in to focus.  His
eyes weren’t what they used to be. “Two stillborn children in the past sixteen
years and now….”

Cantia was
beside herself. “Now
what
?”

Tevin read
slowly.  He didn’t want to get ahead of himself.  Then, as Cantia watched his
face, a smile gradually spread across his lips.  She swore she saw the glint of
tears in his eyes as he began to read aloud.

“My sister gave
birth to a healthy boy four weeks ago,” he announced.  “They christened the
child Christopher and he is doing very well.  Myles says he has never seen a
child eat so eagerly.”

Cantia closed
her eyes. “Thank God,” she breathed, hugging her husband tightly. “Oh, thank
God. They have waited for this child for so very long. Finally, a healthy son.”