Her Honorable Mercenary--A dramatic Medieval romance

by Nicole Locke

  ‘Well, then...’

  Faster than she could react, he cradled her face in his lethal hands, tilted her chin until she kept her eyes with his.

  ‘I have every feeling when it comes to you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Some of those feelings you may not want.’

  When he said it in that growly voice she wanted them all. She wanted everything from him. But that would take some time.

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  He dropped his hands.

  Getting this man to tell her wouldn’t be easy, but if he had feelings for her he would. He now knew how much it meant.

  ‘I’m assuming whatever has happened isn’t life-threatening, otherwise you’d rush me out of here, but you’re scaring me. You’re hurting me by not saying anything.’

  He clenched her hand. ‘Ian’s dead.’

  Margery’s entire body jerked, and she reached back to grab at something. A weapon, preferably. ‘We need to get out of here. His parents will be after—’

  ‘They left before it occurred. Ian threatened them and they left swiftly.’

  ‘They’ll be back!’ She tried to wrench her hand free.

  ‘They won’t,’ he said.

  ‘Evrart, you’re not making sense. Who killed him? The parents can’t be far—’

  ‘Your hands are cold.’ He grabbed both her hands, searched her eyes. ‘You heard the sounds?’

  The arrival of the hunt, the thunder of many feet, voices, shouts and cries...

  She had waited for the clang of swords, but instead she’d been left with the silence. And now she knew that was the worst thing of all.

  What use was he? He had been granted this oversized, ill-fitting, body and he couldn’t see the true beauty of the world. Everything was dark and grey. But he could protect. He could agree to serve a Warstone so that his mother and sister stayed alive.

  He’d gained skills since then. After almost ten years in the Warstone Fortress he should have the ability to keep safe this one tiny woman who’d ridden into this courtyard. One fierce, brave, beautiful woman who wore a cloak far too big for her.

  He had failed her! He’d meant to protect Margery and still she was affected. Still the violence of his life had touched her.

  Those sounds... Had she heard Balthus fall? Ian? Had she heard the steward gasp for breath after he’d drunk the poison?

  What was worse? Hearing those sounds and not knowing what they were? Or guessing what they could be? Wasn’t he here to protect her innocence? She didn’t need to know the evil of the world or what darkened his soul.

  ‘You give me nothing but silence? Still?’ she said. ‘I’m going.’

  Perhaps it was worse to hear and not know? Maybe...maybe he could tell her something? Not all. Just enough so she would be informed and wouldn’t want to know anything else.

  ‘I’ll tell you. If...if you let me hold you whilst I do.’

  She hesitated.

  He released her hands, willed himself to step back, but failed. ‘I understand. You shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be here, touching you. Everything’s changed.

  Her clear eyes searched his, before she frowned. Fiercely. ‘I don’t want you to not hold me!’

  Before he knew what was happening, she was in his arms.

  She stiffened, then laughed. ‘I just can’t see what’s happening in that mind of yours if I can’t look into your eyes.’

  ‘You want to look at me?’

  ‘Evrart. You’re frightening me. Remember those feelings? This is one of them: I’ll always want to look at you!’

  She wouldn’t after he’d told her what he needed to. He should have told her from the beginning. It wasn’t as bad as what he’d done in the past.

  She’d kept that bright light in her eyes because they’d taken walks in the garden, picked quince, dined on beans with extra onions and hard bread. She’d befriended servants and they’d played games with her, like letting her into his room.

  Had he ever made a friend or played games?

  He tucked her onto his lap and she curled into him. So trusting...and she felt so right.

  ‘Was my sister there?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He tugged at her gown so it covered her feet.

  ‘I could ask her to tell me, if that would be—’

  He shook his head, rubbing his cheek against the softness of her hair, releasing that scent that grounded him.

  She patted his hand. ‘Well, then...’

  She was frightened. He needed to let her know some of the truth. He’d protect her from the worst.

  ‘We left for a hunt today, along with Ian’s parents. It was successful—but in more ways than one. While we were in that forest you can see from the windows Balthus, Ian’s youngest brother, dropped from the trees. Do you know of the brothers? It’s Ian, Guy, Reynold and Balthus.’

  ‘Balthus.’

  ‘You know of him.’

  ‘I...my sister, and the usher, Louve, came to my room with food. Louve looked out the window and noted Balthus was with the party. They told me—’ She looked as if she wanted to say something, then changed her mind.

  Shaking her head, she continued. ‘He didn’t say Balthus dropped from the trees. All alone?’

  He wanted to pursue her sister and Louve coming to the room, but could hear the surprise, the wariness in her voice. They, too, had been surprised and wary. Anything else could wait.

  ‘There was no one else with him. His parents appeared delighted. Ian seemed resigned. But Balthus went up to him, clapped him on the shoulder. They didn’t say anything to each other. Just looked.’

  ‘At what?’

  He didn’t know. Not truly. But he could guess.

  ‘Their parents raised the boys to be enemies to each other. Guy wasn’t mourned when he died—not even by his parents. There’s something going on with the two of them, though. They’ve been competing with each other, and Ian’s mind has been breaking ever since he gathered his wife and children and sent them away. I wonder if...if Ian tried to harm,258 or to kill, Balthus.’

  Margery gasped. ‘But they’re family.’

  ‘Warstones are different,’ he said.

  ‘I can see that,’ she said. ‘Did Balthus kill Ian?’

  If he talked of Ian’s death, he’d avoid talking of his own part in the day. The temptation was strong, but he knew that he was being a coward. He wanted to protect her, but she needed to know his wrong deeds.

  ‘On the road home, we saw the steward returning.’

  ‘Did he fall from the trees as well?’

  She sounded confused. He understood that completely.

  ‘No.’

  But the coincidence had been too much for Evrart. He’d walked home the rest of the way with his sword drawn. It hadn’t only been Balthus, but Ian who had been amused then.

  ‘I remember the steward from when I arrived. Did he kill Ian?’

  He concentrated on his breath, which wouldn’t come. ‘He tried to—with poisoned ale.’

  ‘Poisoned! I think... I believe I tasted that.’

  ‘I spotted your sister and Louve, coming from the ale house.’

  ‘Louve asked me if I had poisoned it.’

  ‘You! You would never—’

  She gripped his leg. ‘Tell me. Why do you suspect the steward?’

  ‘Because Ian knew. In front of all in the Great Hall, Ian fed the steward ale at full strength. The steward drank it and died.’

  He swallowed hard. He had to tell her.

  ‘Then Ian ordered me to carry him out. So I did.’

  He waited for her gasp. For her to flinch from his hold. Or at least for her to look up at him in horror. She did none of those things. Maybe she didn’t understand.

  ‘I did it with ease. It’s not the
first time I’ve carried a dead person. Nor seen one killed.’

  Still nothing. His talkative Margery was quiet, whilst he shook. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he tucked a finger under her chin, marvelling again at the size difference between them. Her fierceness, her bravery, constantly made him forget.

  She allowed him to raise her face to his. There was nothing but tears in her eyes, and something deeper than pity...empathy.

  ‘I’m so sorry you had to—’

  She didn’t understand! He was a monster!

  ‘It’s ugly. The bodies are still warm, and because they were breathing moments before you expect them to again. At least with the Steward there was no blood. In truth, if you don’t get a body moved fast enough you will be covered in more than just blood.’

  There. That should give her some hint as to what—

  Margery laid her hand on his cheek.

  ‘This is the kind of man I am,’ he blurted.

  This was the reason he needed to protect her.

  ‘What would have happened if you hadn’t taken the steward’s body out of the room?’

  To have not followed the order of a Warstone, and in front of his parents?

  ‘You would have been killed.’ She slid her hand down his arm and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘No more, Evrart. You need to defend yourself. Now, tell me, is my sister safe?’

  Her sister. ‘I left the body with the chaplain and came up the private staircase. Your door was still intact, so I went to the other staircase attached to the hall. If anyone had come after you...’

  ‘You’d have been there.’

  Always. He’d always protect her. ‘I needed to see what had happened...if anyone else needed—’

  ‘Needed your help? At the same time you were protecting me?’

  He nodded, searching the clear eyes that had never changed with his story. Perhaps later she’d realise what he was, but now she was concerned for her sister, so he continued.

  ‘Ian’s parents and their guards were already mobilised to leave. I don’t know why. I think they had something to do with the steward. Biedeluue and Louve stood together. Balthus was nearby, and Ian stood next to Louve, on the other side of your sister.’

  She put her hand to her mouth. ‘So near!’

  ‘I was there in the shadows. No one saw me. I was there to throw a dagger if needed, Margery.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  So simply said! Here was the evidence of her goodness. To ruin it with all he knew...? Never.

  ‘Ian threw a dagger to strike Balthus. Your sister flew from the bench and shoved him out of the way.’

  Margery gasped. ‘That is just like Bied.’

  ‘Louve threw his own dagger which struck Ian. He fell.’

  The dagger had been aimed at Ian’s shoulder. But Ian had moved towards the blade and it had pierced his heart. To tell her that a man may have ended his life in front of all? He must protect her as much as he could for now.

  ‘Your door was closed, but I should have seen to you. I should have—.’

  ‘You were there for my sister. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I hate it that I was locked in here.’

  He eased his arms around her again, revelling in the fact she let him. He pressed a bit more, to convey that he understood. If his sister had been in danger, and he had been denied the ability to protect her, he would have torn down doors. But it was safer for Margery in here, and he wouldn’t have allowed her freedom anyway.

  When she leaned fully into him he closed his eyes and rested his head on the top of hers. He didn’t know what beauty was, but he felt it with her. They sat like that as he watched the light dim in the room and her body became heavier.

  ‘I need to talk to my sister,’ she said, her voice slow, heavy.

  He’d expected that. And he expected when she did, her sister would take her away from him.

  ‘Family’s important,’ he said.

  ‘But we’ll rest here now.’

  He tried to lay her down.

  She grabbed his hand. ‘We’ll rest here now.’

  He could deny her nothing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Despite it still being dark when Margery woke early the next morning, Evrart was gone. She didn’t know when he’d left, or why she had needed to sleep. She’d been doing nothing but resting and sleeping for weeks.

  It must be the fear, the worry...those shouts she had been able to do nothing to ease. The words Evrart had spoken. The fact she was locked in a room while Biedeluue simply charged forward in her life.

  She hated not being able to do anything. She was useless. Had been made useless. It reminded her of all the times when, as a child, she had suddenly been swept up in someone’s arms without any acknowledgement. She’d be arranging rocks, or gazing at insects, and suddenly she’d been picked up and put somewhere else.

  It hadn’t taken her long to realise that would be her life if she stayed in the village. And it also hadn’t taken her long to know her family couldn’t afford to keep her. She didn’t want to be a burden, and she wanted some freedom, so she’d taken Josse’s coin—for them, but at the same time doing something for herself.

  Ian had been terrifying and could simply have killed her. It was as if he had known being imprisoned and forced to bend to his every whim was a worse fate. To have some independence, and then to be denied that very freedom...? That wasn’t her. She—

  A timid knock on the door and Jeanne was there with a tray.

  ‘Oh!’ Jeanne stopped in the doorway. ‘You’re awake.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do this morning.’ Jeanne stepped in without closing the door. ‘I know it’s early, but I took a chance you wouldn’t throw me out.’

  Margery eyed the food she knew she wouldn’t eat. It wasn’t quite light outside. They had time. ‘I’m glad you came. Set it here—stay and eat.’

  Throwing herself into a chair, Jeanne grabbed a bread roll and Margery poured cold pottage into the two cups. She didn’t hide her smile. Jeanne was hoping for her company as much as she wanted it herself.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ Jeanne said. ‘I don’t know what’s to become of the household now.’

  Margery’s heart eased at Jeanne’s easy way with her. She knew she wasn’t a servant—not truly—but she wasn’t royalty either. Having a friendship...any friend...was a gift.

  ‘Won’t the Warstone parents or Balthus take over?’

  ‘Did no one tell you...?’ Jeanne’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t kind. I keep forgetting you’re locked in here.’

  Sequestered. Confined.

  She should have checked on her sister, but Evrart had said she had Louve, and Margery had been loath to leave the comfort of Evrart’s arms.

  She’d imprisoned herself!

  ‘That probably wasn’t kind either,’ Jeanne said.

  Margery waved her hand. ‘No, don’t apologise. It’s not... I’m free now.’

  ‘You were fortunate to be in here,’ Jeanne said. ‘To have missed everything.’

  Margery didn’t feel fortunate—or free. She felt as if she was again being picked up and put somewhere else. Somewhere she wasn’t certain she wanted to be.

  ‘I had to serve the goblets of ale,’ Jeanne said.

  Evrart had said much, but not everything. She knew it wasn’t reasonable to expect a man who barely made a sound to give details, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it because he was protecting her. No. She had made it clear to him how important it was to her to know the truth.

  Margery took a sip of pottage. ‘Goblets?’

  ‘They passed around wine for everyone, and then a tray of ale went—’

  ‘To the steward, who died,’ Margery said, not wanting to hear it
again. Evrart had suffered enough.

  Jeanne wiped her mouth with the back of the hand still holding the roll. ‘To the usher and the new cook as well.’

  Margery stood. ‘My sister!’

  ‘Your sister?’ Jeanne said.

  Evrart hadn’t told her everything.

  Margery looked at the open door. Enough was enough. ‘Jeanne, forgive me...’

  * * *

  Down the staircase, across the great hall... Margery ran towards the kitchens. It was easy to spot her sister. The familiar hands on her hips, the hair waving with riotous indignation.

  ‘Bied!’ Margery skipped down the steps.

  Biedeluue turned and enveloped her in her arms. Familiar. Wanted. Cherished. Their mother had always been fragile, and it had been Bied who had cared for her.

  ‘Margery, are you well? Are you harmed?’

  How could she be harmed when she was cut off from life, and protected all the time? Jeanne had made it sound like a benefit; it was a curse. She hadn’t known her sister’s life had been in jeopardy.

  ‘What of you?’ She pulled back from her sister and looked her over. She was here. Not poisoned. Breathing. ‘You’re here in the kitchens!’

  Bied clamped her hands on Margery’s shoulders—which, given their short stature and Bied’s curves, didn’t separate them much. ‘I’m only here because I was promised some tarts with extra honey. I’m starving.’

  Margery didn’t want to eat. She wanted to know what had been happening in this castle. Whilst she’d been surrounded by pillows, others had been killed and had narrowly avoided drinking poisoned ale.

  ‘Can we simply—?’ Margery started, but then she spotted a woman bringing over a tray.

  ‘Thank you, Tess,’ Bied said.

  ‘If I’d known you had company in the kitchens I’d have brought more.’ Tess handed Bied the tray.

  Margery didn’t want any food. She wanted her sister. ‘There’s four tarts here,’ she said.

  ‘Hardly enough,’ Tess said with a wink. ‘You’ll see.’

  Bied linked their arms and pulled them into another room with a roof full of hanging herbs and a long table. Margery dragged two stools closer together.