Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01

by A Knight of Silence

  “I now know why, Talan,” she said, accepting his arm.

  * * * *

  The days that followed began to take their toll on her. Surrounded by people who held themselves above all others, she was beginning to lose hope.

  Her melancholy did not go unnoticed by Talan. Waiting in the passage one morning, she opened the door much later than usual.

  “I hope I have not kept you waiting long, Talan.”

  Taking in her pale, drawn features, he grew concerned. “Lady Reina, are you unwell?”

  “Please forgive me, Talan.” Bursting into tears, she closed the door.

  He stood staring at the door pondering what he should do. Seeing a footman in the passage, he beckoned him. “Inform the king Baroness Erlegh is ill. She will be resting in her chamber for the duration of the day.”

  Finding one of Reina’s personal serving women was not so easy.

  Pacing by her door, he spotted a young woman carrying an arm full of fresh linens. “Do you serve Baroness Erlegh?”

  “I do, Sir Knight. Is aught amiss with her ladyship?”

  “She is ill. If the lady leaves this chamber for any reason, you are to summon me in the Knights barracks.” He handed her a coin. “Do you understand?”

  “I do.” She bobbed her head.

  Deep in thought, he made his way down the passage. He needed some fresh air and a drink, not necessarily in that order.

  * * * *

  Talan was sitting alone in the barracks early that evening when Albin found him.

  Ignoring the rest of the men crowding the hall, he bent by his ear. “A word in private, lad?” leading the way outside.

  Following Albin into the frigid air, Talan chaffed his arms to warm them. Quite a ways from the Hall, he demanded, “What is amiss with our lady, Albin?”

  “Rest at ease, Talan. She is in her chamber preparing for the feast. I am here for your benefit, taking into account that you are not exactly the most cheerful of men.” He held a hand up when Talan scowled. “Even I would not be so cheerful with our current task.”

  “It is my duty,” he replied angrily.

  Albin placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know, lad. It does not change the fact that you need to lighten up before you bring the lady’s spirits any lower.” Withdrawing a small pouch from his tunic, he handed it over. “I want you to find the nearest tavern and swive a wench until the coin runs out.”

  “I shall not leave Lady Reina unattended.

  “As if I would?” Albin scoffed. “I have heard the filth Reynold has been spouting. I will guard her well, mark my word.”

  “I fear if we do not find a way to leave, court life will eventually break her,” Talan said, accepting the coin.

  Albin leaned close to speak in low tones. “I know this well, lad. My time here has not been spent being idle. I am trying to find us all a way out of this mess.”

  “If I go, you vow to keep a close watch on her?”

  Albin scowled in reply.

  * * * *

  Talan made his way through the darkening lanes of London, stopping at the first hostelrie he found. Unclasping his cloak, he wound his way through the crowded tables to the bar. Calling to the tapster for a mug of ale, he turned on his stool to take in the place.

  Glancing past a table with four burly men and a petite blond female, his eyes swiveled back to the woman. He stared transfixed as the lovely lass glanced up to catch him staring at her. She responded to his nod of acknowledgement with a shy smile. One of the men spoke, drawing her attention.

  He turned back to the bar to have a swallow of ale, drumming his fingers in indecision. Giving in to the urge, he turned for another glance and met the disapproving gaze of the dark haired man beside her.

  Talan cursed the fates when the man stood. Preparing for the inevitable brawl, he sized up his opponent as he approached.

  Over the loud din of the tavern, the stranger bent close to his ear. “It appears we have a quandary on our hands, knight.”

  Prepared for anything, Talan replied, “I have no quarrel with you.”

  “Then tell me why you boldly stare at my sister when she is in the midst of men who would kill to protect her?” he jeered.

  Figuring the truth would be his best defense, he replied, “I meant no offense. I simply found the lass comely.”

  “What is your name, knight?” The stranger cracked a smile.

  “Talan, I am in Baron Fulke of Erlegh’s service.”

  Staring pointedly at Talan’s coat, he quipped, “I see that now. I am Leofrick of Kent.”

  Talan dipped his head, “I truly meant no offense, Leofrick.”

  “I am acquainted with his lordship,” he continued. My father is Sheriff of Rochester. Why is it I have never seen you before?”

  “It is not often I venture to Rochester,” Talan replied.

  “Why do you not join us?” Glancing back at the table, he grinned. “By the looks exchanged between you both, I am sure my sister will not begrudge an introduction.”

  Talan stood. “That would please me greatly.”

  Squeezing back through the tables, Leofrick gestured to each of the three men. “These hulking brutes are my brothers, Frederick, Edmund and Caine.”

  Nodding to each, he glanced at Leofrick’s sister. Waiting.

  Leofrick chuckled. “Oh, and this is my sister, Mylla.” Clearing a space, he grabbed an empty chair from another table. Wedging it between Mylla and Caine, he gestured for Talan to take a seat. “This is Talan, Knight to Baron Erlegh.”

  Caine looked surprised. “I was unaware his lordship had left Rochester.”

  Talan tried to ignore the sensations racing through him where his leg brushed up against Mylla’s. “His lordship remains in Rochester. I am at court with her ladyship.”

  Mylla glanced shyly at him. “Our father is in consultation with the king’s itinerant justice. We depart on the morrow. ”

  “I look forward to my own return to Rochester,” Talan replied with a smile.

  He heard a brusque voice. “Do you stay in Rochester whilst his lordship is in town, Sir Talan?”

  Reluctantly turning away from Mylla, he replied to Edmund. “On few occasions.”

  “Yet, you are here in London with her ladyship?” he pressed.

  “I am. Her ladyship has never been to court before,” Talan replied evasively.

  “Do you stay at the Wounded Stag when you are in Rochester, Sir Talan?” Mylla regained his attention.

  Smiling once more, Talan turned back to her. “I do. It is the closest hostelrie to the tower.”

  “Then you must know my friend, Lecie. She has helped run the hostelrie since her mother passed.”

  “I do know Lecie. It is a shame her husband is so ill.”

  Mylla looked confused. “Lecie is not married.”

  Now it was Talan’s turn to look confused. “She is wife to Edric, is she not? They have three small children.”

  “Lecie is not married to Edric,” she giggled. “He is her father.”

  Mesmerized by her smile, he could not think of a response.

  Caine interjected, “We heard rumor that her ladyship is deaf. Surely that cannot be true?”

  Talan reluctantly turned away from Mylla. “Aye it is,” he replied proudly.

  “How can that be?” Edmund scoffed.

  “You would be amazed at how well her ladyship copes with her disability,” Talan grinned.

  “It sounds like you care for her very much,” Mylla said softly.

  Talan gazed down at her. “In truth, I admire the lady very much. She has come to mean a great deal to me.”

  “You are friends with her ladyship?” Edmund queried in disbelief.

  “Aye.” Talan replied, “Never before have I met a lady that treats all so fairly.”

  “She sounds very kind. It is my hope to meet her one day,” Mylla said.

  “It would please me greatly to introduce you,” he responded softly.

  Clearing his t
hroat loudly, Edmund stood. “It grows late. I shall escort you to your chamber, Mylla.”

  “Ease up Edmund.” Leofrick laughed. “She is well chaperoned.”

  Glaring at his brother, Edmund excused himself.

  Leofrick leaned across the table. “Sorry about him. Being the eldest, he tends to look at Mylla as his baby.”

  The brothers laughed as Mylla blushed.

  “Do you have siblings, Sir Talan?” Caine asked.

  “My father passed on many years ago. My mother joined him shortly thereafter.”

  “How did you come to be in Baron Erlegh’s service?” Caine continued in a voice that promised more questions to come.

  Resigned to the unrelenting barrage of questions, Talan eased back into his seat. “The knight who fostered Baron Erlegh and Sir Albin happened to be kin to my mother. I pestered his lordship until he agreed to take me with him after his training.”

  Before Caine could ask his next question, Mylla placed a hand on his sleeve. “It must have been a very difficult time for you, Sir Talan.”

  He swallowed the feelings stirred in him from her light touch. “Do not feel sorrow on my behalf, lass. The men I serve with have become my family.”

  “Mylla, Sir Talan. Please call me Mylla.”

  Talan smiled. “Thank you, Mylla.”

  Caine rolled his eyes. “It is getting a bit stuffy in here. I will stand you a drink at the bar, Frederick. Leofrick can play chaperone.”

  Talan did not notice the late hour until Leofrick began to yawn. Reluctantly, he stood. “I shall depart so that you may seek your rest, Mylla.”

  “Must you go, Sir Talan?”

  Leofrick cleared his throat as Talan grinned. “Aye, I am afraid I must. May I be so bold as to call on you when I return to Rochester, Mylla?”

  “I would like that very much,” she breathed.

  Standing, Leofrick gripped Talan's shoulder. “I would say you owe me one.”

  “I would say I agree,” he replied.

  * * * *

  Reina stepped from her chamber, surprised to find Albin waiting to escort her. Pleased to see him, she smiled.

  “Shall we, my lady?” he asked, extending his arm.

  As they made their way through the crowded passages, she felt him stiffen in anger. Accustomed to the disparaging looks directed at her, she no longer paid attention to them.

  He bowed when they reached the double doors to the hall. “I shall be here when you return, my lady.”

  She observed the king in the midst of a quarrel with his daughter as she approached the dais.

  “We shall discuss the matter of Geoffrey at a more opportune time, Matilda,” Henry snapped when he spotted her.

  Reina reluctantly took her seat as the empress turned her small, dark eyes on her. “Of course father, your whore is here to attend you.” With a brief curtsey, she left the hall with her attendants following.

  Hurt by the harsh words, Reina’s face flushed with color. Taking note of it, the king leaned close. “You must refrain from showing emotion, your ladyship. This is not the first time you have erred.”

  She fought a shudder at the coldness in his eyes before giving a slight nod.

  The remainder of the night progressed like all others before it. With the exception of Baron Reynold, who leered at her every time she happened to glance his way, no one paid her any attention.

  It became a rare instance if she had anything of value to communicate concerning Geoffrey. At five short a score, he cared only for himself. Reigning over his entourage of sycophants, he scorned everything English or Norman.

  While she watched him arrange a late liaison with a courtier’s young daughter, a wave of nausea nearly doubled her over. Clenching her teeth, she wrapped her arms around her abdomen.

  The king leaned down to get her attention. “Are you still feeling ill, your ladyship?”

  Forced to swallow the gorge burning the back of her throat, she nodded weakly.

  “Seek your chamber. I shall send my personal physician to you at once.”

  In reply, she managed a weak curtsey by holding her arm across her abdomen. Following his direction, she slipped through the king’s private door behind the dais.

  The queasy feeling passed as swiftly as it had come as she entered the cool air in the empty passage. She wiped the back of her hand across her beaded brow before heading off in search of Albin.

  When she couldn’t find him by the doors, she worried how she would get word to him. Still pondering the problem, she made her way through the empty passages leading to her chamber.

  A slight movement off to the side caught her attention. Turning midstep to look back, someone roughly seized her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, as she struggled to free herself. Forcefully shoved into a curtained alcove, face first against the rough-hewn stone wall, she gasped in terror.

  Hot, rank breath huffed in her ear as she bucked to loosen the hold on her arms. Feeling her aggressor’s rigid arousal pressed against her lower back, her mouth opened in a silent scream. Finding her waist seized, her suddenly free hand reached back to find purchase. Cupping the sac of her assailant’s manhood, she squeezed, only letting go when he viciously shoved her forward causing her head to strike the wall.

  Dazed, she felt the slide of her skirt against the back of her legs. Struggling to remain conscious, she leaned as far forward as the wall would allow, before forcefully throwing her head back. Striking her assailant’s nose, she felt the satisfying crunch of broken bones.

  Raising a slippered heel, she brought it down on his instep. Lifting her foot to kick back at his shin, she lost her balance when he abruptly released her. She managed to grab the woolen curtain to curb her fall, tearing it from its iron hooks.

  Splayed in pain on the polished wood flooring, she scrambled away on her hands and knees, refusing to answer the darkness that called to her.

  THIRTEEN

  Believing Reina safe in the hall, Albin slipped away to the garderobe.

  He had not been away long when a footman approached him. “You serve the Baroness Erlegh?”

  “I do.” he nodded.

  “Her ladyship has quit the hall,” the footman intoned stiffly.

  “Of course she has,” he muttered. “How long since she departed?”

  “It has not been but a moment, sir.”

  “My thanks.” Anticipating the inevitable tongue-lashing from Talan, he took off at a run.

  It took a moment for Albin’s mind to comprehend what he was seeing when he turned a corner in the passageway. On her hands and knees, Reina dragged herself across the floor. His nose spouting blood, Baron Reynold lunged to grab the back of her hair dragging her back towards him.

  Bellowing in rage, Albin’s sword rang from its scabbard. Closing the distance, he slammed into Reynold knocking him away from Reina. Falling hard to his knees, Reynold glared his hatred as Albin whisked the blade up to his neck, drawing blood. “Give me one reason why I should not kill you,” he snarled.

  Casting a nervous glance at the shining steel, Reynold replied, “You forget yourself, knight.”

  “And you forget her ladyship is under the king’s protection, as well as mine.” Putting pressure on the tip, he twisted the blade, his bloodlust cooling as Reynold whimpered in pain. “The king shall have your head for this.”

  “Lowered to defend an impaired whore,” Reynold wheezed. “What would your father say if he were to see you now?”

  Taken off guard, Albin stepped back. “What would you know about my father, you bastard?”

  Visibly pleased his words had the desired effect, Reynold replied, “I know all about Erlegh and his band of misfits.”

  “You lie!” Lunging forward, he forced Reynold to withdraw.

  “Whom shall I touch on first? You perchance?” With a leer at Reina cowering in abject terror on the floor behind Albin, he warmed to his subject. “I know you are the third son, all but overlooked by your powerful father. He feels no more fo
r you than he does the son turned traitor.”

  Albin’s heart slammed against his ribs at the mention of his brother, Glenbard. Glaring his contempt, he scoffed, “You believe yourself privy to old news, Reynold. My father disowned my brother when he joined Clito’s ranks. If you think you can use the information against me, Henry is well aware of that fact.”

  “It must be difficult for you during battle, never knowing if you are about to smite down your own flesh and blood. Tell me,” he continued, “Is that why he selected Erlegh for entitlement above you? Whereas you held back, Erlegh willingly smote all who stood in his way?”

  “Shut your mouth,” Albin snarled, his hands shaking with the restraint it took to keep from driving his sword through Reynold’s black heart.

  Reynold smiled wickedly, relishing the rise he provoked. “Erlegh is the benevolent master of strays. Sir Guy, bastard waif from the shores of Normandy. Gervase, unclaimed whoreson found living in squalor outside a tavern.”

  Albin glanced back at Reina, stricken by her horrified expression. The lads deserved better than to have their sordid past announced by such vermin.

  Raising his sword, he drove it forward, stopping only when blood ran on the blade from a wound over Reynold’s heart. “You do not realize how close to death you are,” he said in a deceptively calm voice.

  Flinching in pain, he replied, “Oh? I know you are not fool enough to slay a noble. It would not only mean your death, but Erlegh himself will be subject to the king’s wrath.” He continued, unperturbed. “Besides, I have yet to finish. Sir Talan would be a beggar if not for the grace of an uncle. Erlegh plucked his squire from the fields where he was being beat near death by his whore mother’s current lover.” He paused, an evil leer lighting his narrow bird-like features. “My favorite by far, is the lady cowering in fear behind you. Instead of tossing up her skirts for a quick swive, Erlegh takes her to wife. I am sure his slight against the king by taking a lackwit to wife has not escaped Henry’s notice.”

  Lunging forward, Albin dropped his sword. Folding his hands around Reynold’s throat, he squeezed.