Word of Honor (Knights of Valor Book 1) (16 page)

He would
not spend another night under the roof of Winterbourne, be it in the highest of
chambers or the lowest of dungeons.

Geoffrey
caught Merryn’s eye. “My love, I know we said we would stay the night at the
earl’s invitation, but all this talk of Ancel and Alys makes me long to see
them. Would you mind if we left now for home? I hate to be apart from them for
even a single night.”

Merryn led
Alys to the small room where she stored her medicines. Alys skipped happily
along, humming to herself. She thought her daughter quite musical and decided
it might be time to give her a lute and lessons.

They
reached their destination, and Merryn lit two lanterns so they could see to
work.

As she
began setting out what they would need, she quizzed Alys, much as Sephare had
done with her when she was the same age.

“What
should I do if I have bumped into something and bruised myself?”

“I know.”
Alys grinned. “Put a large stone into the fire till scorching hot. Then take it
out and toss it in water. Dip a cloth in and bathe where ‘tis bruised.”

“How
often?”

Alys thought
a moment. “When you rise and when you ready yourself to sleep.”

“Good. Why
so?”

“’Twill
speed the healing.”

“And what
about a burn? In case you pick up that hot stone with your bare hand instead of
a cloth.”

Alys
giggled. “But I would not, Mother.”

“Pretend
you did.”

“Can I
pretend Ancel did? Girls remember things, Mother. Boys rush in and do not
think. ‘Tis what Tilda says.”

Merryn
chuckled. “Tilda may be right in this matter. Fine, ‘tis Ancel who has burned
his hand, and his loving sister Alys is to care for him. How would you help
Ancel’s hand to heal?”

“I would
get some hard fat of a sheep and . . .” Her voice trailed off. She scrunched
her nose up. “Oh! I boil it with the rind from an elder tree.”

“What is
made from that mixture?”

“An
ointment. You put it on every day. “Twill cure a burn and not leave a scar.”

Merryn
hugged her daughter. “I believe someday you will become a great healer. People
will come from far and wide for your magical touch, Alys. You are learning your
lessons well.”

“It helps
having Ancel to practice on.”

“If he
allows it,” Merryn warned. “The day may come when he might not be so
cooperative.”

Alys
sniffed. “He thinks he’s so important, carrying about his sword.”

“Remember,
we need to ask Raynor to make you one.”

“I think
Father should make it for me. Then ‘twould be better than the one Ancel has.”

Merryn
ruffled her child’s hair. “He would enjoy doing that. Ask him when we dine
tonight.”

She picked
up two objects they would use in their work today. “Remind me what to call
this, Alys.”

The little
girl smiled. “’Tis a mortar and pestle, Mother.”

“And what
will we use them for?”

“We will
crush and then grind the herbs we have picked.”

“Yes, into
a fine powder. The stone is hard enough to do so, but in a pinch you may also
use a very hard wood to pound and grind.” She lifted and inspected the mortar
and pestle. “And you must clean it after each use in boiling water.”

“Why?”

“You
mustn’t allow any of the old herbs you used to remain on the surface and mix
with your new creation. A wise healer always cleans her vessels well.”

Merryn laid
out the first batch of dried herbs to grind. “Place some in the mortar. Fill it
about halfway to start.”

Alys did as
asked and gave her a hopeful look. “May I try it?”

“You may.”

Alys began
concentrating on her task, her movements careful and methodical. She was a
thoughtful child and never wanted to disappoint anyone, least of all her mother.

“My lady?”

Merryn
glanced up. Tilda stood in the doorway.

“Your
brother and wife have arrived. They are most eager to see you and the master.”

“Ah, so
Hugh has returned and read my missive. Please escort them to the solar.”

“I have
done so, my lady.”

“Then bring
us wine and fruit.” She turned to her daughter. “Set the mortar and pestle
aside. Cover it with a cloth. We will return to our lesson later this
afternoon.”

“Mayhap
Milla came for us to help her weeping eyes?”

“’Tis
possible, but I think she and Hugh are here to visit with your father. He is
with Diggory looking at the rent monies most recently gathered. Have him come
to the solar.”

“May I ask
him about making me a sword?” pleaded Alys.

“Of
course.” She smoothed the girl’s hair and then gave her a nudge. Alys skipped
away, once again humming to herself.

Merryn
hurried along until she reached the private quarters. She opened the door to
find Hugh and Milla seated, watching Ancel wave his wooden sword around. They
both clapped at his antics. She saw the wistful look on Milla’s face.

“’Tis
wonderful to see you both,” she proclaimed. She caught Ancel’s sword hand and
lowered it to his side. “Enough entertaining your aunt and uncle. Run along now
and let Alys practice on you.”

Ancel’s
face lit up. “What shall I have this time, Mother? A broken leg?”

Merryn
thought a moment. “Nay. Tell her you are going bald. And that you have a raging
fever. Let me know how she decides to care for you.”

Her son
grinned his goodbye and raced from the room.

“I believe
that boy is in constant motion.” Hugh rose and greeted her with a warm embrace
and a kiss on the cheek. “And your news, Merryn. Christ’s Wounds! I returned
from London to your astounding message. We came straight away once I opened and
read it. Did Geoffrey rise from the dead? What—”

“I shall be
brief, for he may come in at any moment.” Merryn decided to keep with what she
had told others, though she felt guilty lying to her brother. “He suffered a
most grievous head injury and knows not where he has been. It appears he has
suffered much before he gained his way back to Kinwick. I would rather you not
address his time away, Brother. We are concentrating on rejoicing at his return
instead.”

Hugh frowned
at her explanation but did not question her further, thanks to Geoffrey
bursting through the door, a wide smile upon his face.

“Hugh!” he
cried. The two men met and embraced, their hands beating each other’s back till
Merryn felt they would be bruised for life.

Hugh pulled
away first. “I have someone you must meet.” He turned and took the hand Milla
offered him. She rose and came to stand before Geoffrey.

“’Tis
Milla, my wife, and my heart’s delight,” Hugh declared. “And bursting with good
news, I might add.”

Merryn’s
eyes widened. “Are you-” She stopped and glanced at her sister-in-law’s belly,
slightly rounded under her cote-hardie.

“Yes!”
Milla declared with delight, throwing her hands into the air.

Merryn
clung to her, both women weeping openly with tears of joy.

“I feared
‘twould never happen, but I am finally with child.”

“’Tis a
miracle from God Almighty,” said Hugh. He placed an arm about his wife. His
hand rested against her belly. “And we pray for a healthy child. Girl or boy.
It matters not.”

“My
congratulations to you both,” Geoffrey offered. “First, I’m a father. And now a
soon-to-be uncle.”

“Do you
know when the babe might come?” asked Merryn.

Milla
shrugged. “In late autumn, most likely.” She paused. “I shall seek advice from
you, Merryn, since you have been through this before.”

Geoffrey’s
arm went round her waist and pulled her to him, a gleam in his eye. “I hope
that my sweet wife will again find herself in a family way before too long.” He
dropped a kiss onto her temple. “If the Christ be willing, I would ask for half
a dozen more children.”

Merryn
grinned up at him. “Only half a dozen, my lord? Surely, I can accommodate you
with at least a good dozen, if not more. Especially if I have them two at a
time, as I did the twins.”

Her husband
tossed back his head and roared with laughter at her outrageous words. Then he
gave her a heated look and rewarded her with a passionate, lingering kiss.

“Wife, I
believe they may begin this work before our very eyes,” she heard Hugh tease.

Merryn
pulled away from Geoffrey a moment. She punched her brother in the arm. Hard.

Then
returned to her husband’s arms for another sizzling kiss.

She ended
the kiss and said, “Tilda should be here soon with wine and fruit. Now let us
sit and discuss this new babe-to-be, the king’s upcoming visit, and the earl of
Winterbourne’s upcoming wedding.”

As they
gathered around the table, Tilda arrived and poured out wine for everyone.
While the servant did so, Geoffrey slipped her hand into his.

He leaned
over and whispered into her ear, “We shall see about making our own babe
tonight, my love.”

Merryn
shivered with anticipation.

Geoffrey
stood in the training yard, watching his captain of the guard put the men
through their paces. Word of Merryn’s proposed tournament during the king’s
visit had leaked out, and every knight wanted to prove his prowess in front of
Edward and the royal court.

Gilbert
strode over to him, a satisfied look upon his face.

“You have
done well for yourself, Gilbert,” Geoffrey told the man. “I can see why Father
promoted you to head of his guard.”

“Lord
Ferand was good to me, my lord. He watched me rise through the ranks and
rewarded me with the post.”

“’Twas much
deserved. I remember though you were but half a score older than I, I always tried
to emulate you in warfare and manners. I know you have been a good influence on
the men here at Kinwick, especially during my absence. I thank you for your
service.”

The knight
bowed his head in respect. “’Tis good to have you back, my lord.”

They stood
watching the various pairs duel for several minutes until noise on the
wall-walk distracted them. Geoffrey saw that the sentry on duty seemed excited
as he called out to them. The two men hurried over to hear what news he bore.

“What say
you?” Geoffrey called up.

“’Tis the
king’s colors in the distance,” the soldier replied. “But yet a lone rider.”

Geoffrey
waved his acknowledgement and set out for the front gate. Gilbert fell into
step with him.

“’Tis most
likely a messenger from the king, informing Lady Merryn to be prepared,”
Gilbert shared. “The king has sent someone ahead on both his previous visits to
give fair warning that his party would soon descend upon Kinwick.”

“I suppose
that allows the kitchens plenty of time to prepare. I know Merryn has been
consulting with Cook for a week now in anticipation of this visit. She told me
the king has quite the sweet tooth.”

“Aye, he
does, my lord. He fancies Cook’s tarts, in particular. Last time he told my
lady if she weren’t careful, he might spirit Cook away in the dead of night
with nary a backward glance.”

They
reached the opening gates and stood, waiting for the rider. Geoffrey sensed a
tension in Gilbert as he stared ahead.

“Do you
recognize this messenger?” he asked.

The captain
nodded. “Indeed, I do. He came on the king’s last visit. And he also came last
month.” Gilbert turned his head and spat upon the ground as if in disgust.

That gesture,
along with hearing this rider had been at Kinwick recently, piqued his
interest. “Who is this man, Gilbert? What think you of him? And what business
did he have at Kinwick?” Geoffrey watched as the man came closer, but he still
did not recognize him.

“His name
is Sir Symond Benedict. He serves as a member of the king’s royal guard. A good
soldier.” Gilbert paused. “He came in May to deliver the king’s missive to Lady
Merryn regarding the court’s summer visit.”

Geoffrey
knew there had to be more. The knight’s reluctance to continue told him as
much.

“And?” he
prodded, curious as to Gilbert’s opinion.

Gilbert
kept his eyes on the rider as he approached. “Benedict told me—and several of
the men—that the king had chosen him as Lady Merryn’s new husband. He was to be
lord of Kinwick upon their marriage.”

Geoffrey
felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by a feisty horse. Merryn had never
spoken a word of it to him. Thinking back, this knight may have been present at
Kinwick when he returned from his imprisonment at Winterbourne.

And his
wife had sent the man away before he discovered his presence.

It made
sense, of course. Geoffrey knew he’d been gone long enough for all—even the
king-to think him dead. He realized that Edward would have married Merryn off
quickly if she had not given birth to a son and an heir. The king would have
allowed her, once Ferand passed, to hold the estate in trust for her son. The
fact he’d allowed her freedom from marriage for as long as he had meant that he
looked upon her with high favor. Edward would have seen her grief at her
husband’s loss and given her time to heal emotionally.

Knowing
that this knight would have been the man to protect Kinwick angered him. No
matter how good Edward’s choice might have been,
this
man would have
become the only father his children would have known.

And this arriving
knight would have bedded his wife. His seed would have grown within her belly.
Anger seethed within him.

Benedict
rode through the gates with a merry wave to the gatekeeper, as if he owned the
property. Geoffrey took an instant dislike to Symond Benedict upon first sight,
from his bushy red beard to his meaty hands.

He trotted
his horse to where they stood, the king’s banner in one hand.

“Good morn
to you, Gilbert. And who might your companion be?”

“I am
Geoffrey de Montfort. Lord of Kinwick.”

Geoffrey
thought the man might dismount and greet him since he’d made himself known.
Instead, he briskly nodded at him while remaining atop his horse.

“And I am
Sir Symond Benedict, come from King Edward himself. I have a missive for
Merryn.” The knight paused. “Lady Merryn.” He pulled a scroll from a pouch.

Geoffrey’s
rage at the man’s familiar use of Merryn’s name threatened to explode, but he
would not play this knight’s game. He believed the slip a deliberate one and
thought Benedict goaded him.

Instead, he
coolly replied, “I shall see that my wife receives it.” He reached out and
plucked it from Benedict’s hand. “Please take your horse to the stables and
care for the animal. You are welcome to join us for our evening meal.”

Geoffrey
turned and strode away, dismissing Benedict as no more than an errand boy. He
clutched the missive, finding it odd why the king would address it to Merryn
and not him.

He knew his
wife to be making candles this afternoon, having returned to more domestic
duties, so he sought her out near the kitchens. He watched as she inspected
some and approved them. His heart pounded in his chest as he viewed her. This
woman meant everything to him. Her image had kept him alive during his darkest
hours. Thoughts of her helped him pass the many lonely years in isolation.

Merryn
glanced up and caught sight of him. It thrilled him to see the pleasure that
graced her face. He motioned her over.

She came
and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “How did the training exercises go? I
can imagine all those weapons swinging and men grunting. They will be worn to
the nub by the time we dine tonight, each trying to outperform the other.”

“The men
are looking forward to showing their skills to the king.” He held up the
parchment. “This arrived only now, via messenger. From the king.”

“Then he
must be nearby. At least Edward is considerate enough to give us some warning.
I hear he is not so generous with everyone else and often stops unannounced,
expecting to be entertained on a grand scale.” She chuckled. “As if feasts
simply cook themselves and appear out of nowhere.”

“Shall we
read it?” he asked.

“Let’s go
to the solar.” She tugged on his hand and urged him to come along with her.

They
arrived at their chamber, and he placed the scroll on a table.

“I was told
by the messenger that the missive was for you.”

“Did you
see he had ample food and drink? I pity messengers for all the dusty roads they
must ride.”

“I told him
to stable his horse and invited him to the evening meal. He told me his name
was Sir Symond Benedict.”

He saw the
flush creep up her neck as she bit her lower lip in thought.

“Do you
know this man?”

Merryn
busied herself with breaking the seal on the scroll. “Aye, I do. The king
brought him on his previous visit as part of his royal guard.” She unrolled the
tightly wound page. “And he brought news to us last month with a letter from
Edward, informing me of his upcoming visit.”

Merryn’s
fingers touched the page. She frowned. “’Tis not addressed to me. ‘Tis your
name gracing the page, Geoffrey.” Her cheeks had flushed a bright pink. “Sir
Symond must have misunderstood the king when he told you ‘twas for me.”

“I know,
Merryn,” he said quietly.

Her eyes
met his. “Know what, Geoffrey?”

“That this
knight was intended to be your new husband and lord of Kinwick.”

She turned
away and sat upon a chair. Her eyes closed for a minute as she composed
herself. She took a calming breath and opened them.

“Yes. ‘Tis
true. The king’s last letter to me not only shared when his court would arrive
at Kinwick but that he wanted me to consider Sir Symond as my new husband.
Symond was to remain here during the month that it would take the court to
arrive at Kinwick so we could get to know one another.”

Merryn
sprang from her chair and came to stand before him. Her hands rested upon his
shoulders. “Edward granted me many years in which to grieve. He did not force
my hand and demand I wed.” She slid her hands down his arms and took both his
hands in hers. “But I believed the time had come when I could no longer put him
off. He thinks highly of Symond, so I admit I was considering the match.

“Then you
showed up, Geoffrey. ‘Twas as if God knew he must send you back to me then and
there before a terrible mistake had been made.”

“So you
would have wed him?”

She nodded.
“If ‘twas the king’s wish, the wedding would have taken place upon his visit.
Thank the Christ it did not.”

Merryn
flung her arms about him. Geoffrey embraced her, enjoying the feel of her body against
his, her ample breasts pressing into his chest.

“Have no
worries, my love,” he whispered against her hair. “We are together again. ‘Tis
all that matters.” He eased her from him. “Let us see what the king writes.”

They read
the note, which only told Geoffrey of Edward’s arrival the following day and
how he looked forward to meeting him. He mentioned Merryn briefly and asked
that she be sure her cook had some of those delicious tarts he loved
immediately available.

“I shall
tell Cook the time has come,” Merryn said. “We have planned out several menus,
but I know the tarts are first and foremost on the king’s mind. If he doesn’t
get them, he shall throw a fit.” Merryn shuddered. “Worse than any Ancel ever
threw.”

She started
to leave the chamber. “Oh, I want to let Hugh and Milla know so they can also
be here to greet the king tomorrow. And I suppose since I want to propose a
wedding during the royal visit that it might be nice if Hardi and his betrothed
were on hand, as well. Would you be so good as to send messengers to Wellbury
and Winterbourne informing them?”

“I can do
that,” he replied.

Geoffrey
dashed off a few quick lines to Hugh, asking for him and Milla to be on hand
for the king’s arrival on the morrow. It took him longer to compose the brief
missive to Hardi. He still had such mixed feelings about the new earl and hated
that his children would spend much of their years at Winterbourne under his
tutelage.

When he
finished both, he affixed the sealing wax and pressed the de Montfort insignia
into it. He brought the scrolls downstairs and had an idea.

Geoffrey
entered the Great Hall and spied Symond Benedict drinking ale and flirting with
a serving wench, pinching her ample bottom.

Putting on
his best smile, he approached him. “Sir Symond? Lady Merryn has penned two
notes for our neighbors on each side, her brother Hugh Mantel to the south and
the earl of Winterbourne to our north. She would like both in attendance when
the king arrives tomorrow.”

Benedict
nodded pleasantly at his words and took another swig of ale as he winked at the
serving girl.

Geoffrey
extended the missives. “Lady Merryn seems to trust you. She would like you to
be the messenger that delivers these. I thank you on her behalf.” He dropped
the parchments on the table and exited the Great Hall.

Smiling all
the way.