Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01

by A Knight of Silence

  Flinging open the door, the men were surprised at the speed in which she accomplished her task.

  Albin returned to the sideboard to pour himself a tankard of ale. Taking a seat by the fire, he drained it before staring morosely into the flames.

  Warin joined Reina by the window as she bowed her head to pray for Fulke’s safety.

  By the time the pacing knights ran into each other for the second time, Guy cursed in frustration. Stalking over to the fire, he dropped into a seat beside Albin.

  Biting his nails to the quick, Osbert continued to pace.

  Talan retreated to brood beside the window as Gervase threw his hands up. “It should not be taking this long.” He crossed to the door. “I shall see if I can catch word of anything.”

  Warin wrapped an arm around Reina. “You need to rest now, Reina.”

  Gazing sadly up at him, she said, “I am too afraid to close my eyes, Warin.”

  “You must hold to the faith you have in your husband.”

  With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. She was about to close her eyes when Gervase burst back into the room.

  Reina, Warin, Albin and Guy leapt to their feet, their eyes on the door. Osbert stopped midstride as Talan spun away from the window.

  Taking in the groups startled reactions he faced Reina. “Forgive me my lady, I did not mean to frighten you.”

  “Then why did you come charging in here like the very devil was at your heels, lack-wit?” Albin shouted.

  Gervase grudgingly met Albin’s furious gaze. “My intent was to avoid an admirer, if you must know,” he muttered.

  Despite their anxiety, the men rolled their eyes, before returning to their solitary vigils.

  Warin and Reina reseated themselves, their eyes focused on the door.

  Guy stood, crossing to Gervase. “Afraid of a woman, I never thought to see the day, Gervase.”

  “I am not afraid of a woman,” he replied defensively.

  Guy wrapped an arm around him. “Who is this formidable lady?”

  “Lady Peronell.”

  “Did you say, Lady Peronell?” Guy grinned.

  “Aye,” Gervase scoffed. “Do not let her frail appearance deceive you.”

  The sudden burst of nervous laughter making its way around the room had him throwing his hands up. Stalking over to the bed, he sat on its edge to sulk.

  * * * *

  Fulke raced past gawking nobles to be with Reina. In a roundabout way, he and his men achieved what they had set out to do. Consumed with the need to hold his wife, he burst through the door to his chamber.

  Taking flight from her seat by the window, Reina had her arms wrapped around him before the door swung closed behind him.

  Fulke held her close for a long moment, before he unwillingly eased away. Bending to give her a quick kiss, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We return to Castell Maen after Christmastide,” he addressed the men while looking down at Reina. “I will tell you all on the morrow. For now, I need to be alone with my wife.”

  With mirrored looks of relief, the men lined up to make their way from the chamber.

  Reina reached up to kiss each one of them on the cheek with tears sparkling in her eyes, before Fulke gripped their shoulders. Struggling to keep his emotions in check, he kept clearing his throat.

  Albin stepped up last. Gripping his shoulder, Fulke searched for the right words to thank him.

  “I know my friend,” Albin said solemnly, “my brother.” Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he muttered, “a bit of dust.”

  Alone, Fulke cupped Reina’s tearful face. “They told you everything?” At her nod, he asked softly, “And you forgive me?”

  Covering his hands with her own, tears of relief flowed from her eyes. “There is nothing to forgive, my love.”

  Relieved, he dropped to his knees. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his cheek against the swell of their child. He felt a rush of suppressed emotion overcome him as Reina’s fingers slowly stroked through his hair. Held in the loving arms of his wife, he closed his eyes to give thanks.

  Looking up at her, he said hoarsely, “I thought I had lost you, Reina.”

  “Never, my love.”

  Rising, he allowed her to guide him to the bed. Perched on the edge, she removed his boots and helped him undress. Easing pillows behind his head, she bent to place a lingering kiss on his brow, echoing the way he had taken care of her.

  Undressing to her chemise, she climbed in and closed the bed-curtains before curling up beside him.

  The last thing he remembered before falling into an exhausted sleep was wrapping his arms around her.

  * * * *

  Fulke woke to a loud knock on the door. Surprised by the bright light flooding the chamber, he glanced down at his sleeping wife. They had slept the rest of the day and through the night without waking. Bending to kiss her cheek, he slipped through the bed-curtain.

  He donned a dressing gown, before opening the door to Albin.

  Dropping into a deep bow, Albin popped up with a grin. “I trust you have rested well, my liege?”

  Fulke stepped back with a welcoming smile to admit him. “Why is it that you are the last man I see at night and the first one I see in the morn, Albin?”

  Albin replied with mock solemnity, “I yearn for you when we are apart, my liege.”

  Cuffing him on the shoulder, Fulke gestured for him to take a seat. “I am sure you have an excellent reason for interrupting my morning solitude.”

  He chuckled. “You should be thanking me that you are so well rested. The lads have been pestering me since yester eve to find out what transpired with Henry. It was either my disturbing you or the lot of them. Since I know how fond you are of my handsome visage, I offered to convey the king’s message to you this fine morn.”

  “And the message is?”

  Standing stiff in the role of footman, Albin recited pompously, “In celebration of the bishops and abbots arrival, King Henry of England, Duke of Normandy, requests the honor of your presence for a boar hunt to take place within the hour.” Bowing, he reseated himself.

  Fulke glanced longingly at the bed. “I have no choice but to attend.”

  Albin followed his gaze. “How does the lady fare?”

  “She has had to endure much these days past, I worry for both she and the babe, Albin.”

  “The lady could stand guard at my back any day, Fulke. During your tete-to-tete with Henry, I thought we would be forced to restrain her from drawing her tiny dagger to rescue you.” Albin lowered his voice, “She called the king mad.”

  Leaning back, Fulke sighed. “Aye, with her at my side, why do I need a bunch of ale-swilling, womanizing knights to guard my back?” He quirked a brow, waiting.

  “I see finding happiness has brought out your quick-wit,” Albin replied sarcastically.

  Waving a hand in truce, Fulke grew solemn. Catching Albin up on his meeting with Henry, the two boyhood friends sat in silence for a few moments, grateful to have won the day.

  “In punishing you, Henry appears to have given you what you wanted most,” Albin observed.

  Fulke smiled. “Aye that he has, though I warrant it was not his intent.”

  “Do not be so sure, Fulke. He not only spared your life, he left you overseer in Rochester.”

  “I am convenient Albin, naught else.” He continued in a lower tone, “Other than himself, the only person Henry has ever cared for was his son. I fear when William drowned, he lost an important part of himself. Knowing how that feels, I pity him.”

  Albin chuckled. “If Henry were to hear you pity him, he would rescind our banishment and call for our heads.”

  Quirking a brow, he asked, “You know what this means, do you not?”

  “Aye, it means we go home,” Albin replied satisfied.

  “I am speaking about the fact that you are no longer a knight of battle,” he pressed.

  “If I knew all it would take to be free of Henry’s se
rvice was to get on his last nerve, I would have attempted it years ago.”

  “You are no longer given to battle,” Fulke persisted.

  “Aye, I know it,” Albin said suspiciously, “What point are you trying to make?”

  “You have always said that a man given to battle has no right to start a family, you no longer have that excuse to fall back on.”

  “I have no use for a wife or family,” Albin sighed.

  “Yet, you admit your long held reasoning is no longer an obstacle?”

  “I do.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I shall now profess that I remain a landless knight with naught to offer a woman.”

  Leaning forward to make his point, Fulke said, “That excuse no longer holds up either. The king has deeded Castell Maen and the land that surrounds it to me outright. He can no more take it from me, than he can decide what I do with it.” As understanding dawned on Albin, he smiled. “I intend to have Rowan divide up five parcels so each of you has a place to build a home on.”

  “You cannot do that, Fulke,” Albin replied in stunned disbelief.

  “You would do no less, my friend,” he replied sincerely. “I shall inform the rest of the men on Epiphany.”

  Albin stammered, “You now have a family to think of, Fulke. The income the additional land brings in is what sustains you.”

  “I am thinking of them, Albin. There is enough land surrounding Castell Maen to sustain the castle, I have no need for more.” Glancing towards the bed, he continued, “The only thing I need lays asleep yonder.”

  Albin opened and closed his mouth several times, before stammering, “That means I shall be expected to take a wife, I have no training to deal with a wife, Fulke.”

  Picturing Reina behind the curtains, his face softened. “You will figure it out as you go.”

  Albin gripped his shoulder. “Truth be told, I am beyond grateful. I shall weigh in on a later date, whether or not you have done me a favor this day.”

  “When you meet the right woman Albin, you will be kneeling in thanks at my feet,” he replied smugly.

  Rising, Albin glanced towards the bed. “Perchance, yet do not wager on it. The only women worth having have already been spoken for.”

  Fulke shook his head in mock sadness. “Is there not a man among you who is not besotted with my wife?”

  “Aye there is one,” Albin called, heading to the door. “her brother.”

  Laughing, Fulke crossed to the bed to wake Reina with a kiss.

  Blinking sleepily up at him, she sat up, a line of concern marring her smooth brow. "What is it, Fulke?"

  He sat on the edge of the bed to ease her back onto the pillows. “All is well, my love. Henry has called for a hunt.” Caressing her pale cheek, he ordered, “You are not to leave this bed until you are fully rested. If you are up to it, I shall summon us a bath upon my return.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer for a kiss. “I shall be up to it, my lord.”

  * * * *

  She woke a short time later to a slight fluttering in her belly. Placing a hand lightly over the spot, she smiled in wonder. Moving to the window, she drank in the pristine white winter landscape. Turning her face up to the cloudless sky with a thankful heart, she smiled. They would be going home soon.

  Dressed in Fulke’s black silk dressing gown, she inhaled the crisp clean scent of his sandalwood soap. Curling up in the window-niche, she picked at dried fruit while she waited for his return. She stood when a pack of bloodhounds broke from the forest.

  Catching sight of Fulke in the returning party, she hastened to refresh herself. She had just finished pinning up her last curl in anticipation of their bath when he opened the door.

  He crossed the room to gather her in his arms. “You look well rested, my lady.”

  “Summon our bath, my lord,” she replied, reaching up for his kiss.

  Relaxing against him in the warm water, a look of astonishment entered his eyes as his hands spanned the breadth of her belly. Feeling for himself the slight flutter within, he drew her around to straddle him.

  “My daughter grows my lady,” he marveled.

  “Your son will not be pleased to hear that you are intent to call him lass, my lord.”

  “Be it lass or lad, so long as the child has your eyes, I will be the most joyful of men.”

  Pulling her down for a kiss, she pulled back to cup his face. “Will you tell me something, Fulke?”

  He leaned back. “I will tell you anything, my love.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Have you ever made love in a tub?”

  Laughing, he pulled her closer. “It will be a first for us both, my lady.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Escorting Reina that evening, it was as if the incident of the previous night had not happened. Flanked by his grave knights, Fulke led her through a gauntlet of preening nobles with a protective arm wrapped around her shoulders.

  Fulke shared a knowing look with Albin as they pressed forward to the doors. By the friendly salutations, it became evident Reynold had been busy.

  Ignoring all, he drew to a halt before the entrance where Reynold waited with Arabella meekly by his side.

  He stepped forward as the men moved as one to flank position. Nervously eyeing the towering knights, Reynold bowed down before Reina.

  Rising, he addressed Fulke without taking his gaze from her. “If her ladyship were able to understand me, I would humbly apologize for my unjust accusations during the feast.”

  Reina lowered her eyes, before meeting his gaze in acceptance of his words.

  Other than the high collar on his velvet tunic to conceal his neck wound, it appeared he suffered no lasting harm from Henry’s vicious attack.

  Fulke was not so forgiving. “It is indeed fortunate for you that my lady is more benevolent than I. She tends to forgive those I deem unworthy of her forgiveness.”

  Swallowing nervously, Reynold shifted his eyes to Fulke. “Then I find myself fortunate I am the subject of her ladyship’s benevolence.”

  Bowing once more to Reina, Reynold turned away to escort Arabella into the hall.

  Surrounded by nobles seeking their notice, Reina fixed a smile on her face as she had for so many evenings as Fulke frowned at the sheer hypocrisy of it all.

  With a nod to his knights, he brushed past everyone to guide Reina into the hall.

  Seating himself beside her, he clasped her hand under the table. “I did not tell you how beautiful you look this evening, my lady,” he mouthed, leaning into her.

  She had purposely chosen a garnet under gown and cream silk kirtle with gold embroidery on the sleeves and hem, to compliment the strand of pearls resting against her heart. A servant had braided the front of her hair, pulling it back and winding it into a coiled coronet. The rest of the shining mass flowed loose down her back, reaching beyond the cover of her veil.

  Staring at him in his formal attire of red undershirt, gray tunic and hose with black leather boots, her smile lit her eyes to brilliance.

  Fulke squeezed her hand, swallowing hard. Fighting against his sudden arousal, he summoned a servant for a cup of mead.

  Courtiers, courtesans, thanes and nobles took their seats to the announcement of the king’s arrival.

  The visiting archbishops, bishops, and abbots came first, followed by Matilda on Geoffrey’s arm. King David escorted Adeliza to her seat as Henry followed alone.

  Henry stood to welcome the assemblage before announcing a meeting of the barons would convene after Christmas Mass the following day.

  During the king’s prolonged speech, Reina reached for her goblet more than once. She brushed absently at her brow with a shaky hand, drawing his attention. Noting her pallor, Fulke realized she was on the verge of fainting. Easing her against him, he supported her against his shoulder, fanning her face the best he could with a linen napkin. He could not leave in the midst of the king’s speech.

  From across the table, a courtier handed him a folding fan, gesturing t
o a place at the next table where it originated. Gratefully accepting the fan, he looked up to find Arabella with a resigned smile on her face.

  With a sincere nod of thanks, he turned back to Reina.

  She slowly came to with a cold sweat beading her pale brow. Seeing his look of concern, she smiled to reassure him. Dabbing her brow with a napkin, she accepted the glass of mead he handed her.

  Taking a sip, she timidly glanced around. Apart from a few curious stares, everyone’s attention remained focused on the dais.

  After the king had finished his speech, the servants once again began to make the rounds. Pushing back his chair, he assisted Reina to stand.

  His hand spanning her waist, he escorted her to an alcove in the passage. Tipping her chin up, he asked, “Are you feeling unwell, my love?”

  “I fear I was a little overwhelmed by the crowd, my lord,” she said to reassure him.

  Feeling her brow, he said, “I shall summon the king’s physician.”

  Reina grabbed his forearm. “Please do not, Fulke, the man’s solution to every ailment is bloodletting. I assure you all is well.”

  Fulke caressed her cheek. “As you wish, my love. Should it reoccur, I beg of you to tell me the moment it begins to happen.”

  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she smiled. “You shall be the first to know.”

  * * * *

  In anticipation of the late night ahead, the castle was silent the next day. With the exception of servants, the passages remained largely empty.

  With Reina in a warm bath before the fire, Fulke assisted her to wash her hair. Easing her against the back of the tub, he began to comb it dry.

  Drowsy from his tender ministrations, he wrapped her in a dressing gown before carrying her to the bed.”

  “I love you, Fulke,” she yawned.

  Bending to kiss her, she was asleep before he reached her lips.

  * * * *

  That evening found them standing at the back of the crowded chapel foyer with an assemblage of English and Norman Barons. With Fulke’s arm resting around Reina’s waist, they remained close to an exit should the crowd become too much for her.