Rowena peered up at the rider. “Stephen!”
He dismounted, grabbing a length of thong from his belt. Then he tied up the cook as the man fought back with the intent to kill. Rowena glanced over at Hundar, who seemed to be squatting with his hands covering his face.
Seems to be. Nothing is as it seems. Hundar was too tense, his fingers spread open too much. He pulled in his breath, and Rowena knew what was coming. “Stephen, watch out!”
Immediately Stephen spun, released his dagger and pinned the man to the downed log. Something clattered to a rock beneath them. Rowena kicked it far. It was another dagger, one that Hundar had had hidden away.
Shooting Rowena a thankful nod, Stephen bound Hundar, as well. The man coughed and spat at his feet, then swore at Rowena.
Disgusted, she turned away to peer into the forest for the third man. “There’s another man!”
“He won’t be back,” Stephen said. “He’s injured and he would have to face his friends’ anger for leaving should he return. Are you unhurt?”
She checked Andrew, who was screaming again. “I’m fine, but Andrew is more than upset.”
“A ride on a horse will calm him.” Stephen bent and grabbed the coin purse. With a frown and a soft mutter, he pocketed the delicate leather pouch and then mounted his horse again. Bending forward, he wrapped his arm around Rowena’s back. She stiffened.
“Nay, Rowena. Relax. Trust me.”
She held her breath. Trust him? Stephen was surely going to turn her over to her father again. With Kingstown on edge, she would be sacrificed to find and arrest rebels, or even to keep the peace. Or she would be called a liar, for punishing her father would incite the villagers, who’d see it as Norman oppression yet again.
But Stephen had found her, and ’twas what she’d prayed for. Was her belief so weak that a babe’s was stronger?
Lord, strengthen my faith.
Rowena looked up at him, eyes watering, watching him as he blurred before her. He’d come for her, and her heart nearly leaped from her chest at the thought.
With a swallow, she battled the doubts that flared within her foolish heart. And hadn’t she just seen the subtle language Hundar’s body spoke and had warned Stephen of it? She’d worked alongside him as he’d once asked her to. Trust him. She took a deep breath and reached for him.
He swung her up onto his lap. She clasped Andrew with one hand, though his sling stayed firm, and with the other, she gripped Stephen.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. Oh, to have him hold her again! The feel of his strong arms around her, the warmth of his lips on hers, battled any doubts within. She shut her eyes while cushioning Andrew’s head as it lay against Stephen’s hard chest.
But when he broke the kiss, she saw his expression had turned grim. “Do not thank me, yet, Rowena. This matter is not finished, I’ve just realized. It has taken a difficult turn, I fear.”
He then swung the horse around and, shielding her and Andrew with his strong arm, he drove the animal through the brush toward the narrow road some distance away. Rowena felt her heart pound in her throat at his cryptic warning, but dared not ask him to explain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stephen kept the horse at a canter, hoping the gentle bobbing would soothe Andrew. His crying eased, thankfully, but in its stead came a silence as weighty as a woman heavy with child.
There were so many unspoken issues that needed to be sorted out. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he drew his horse to a halt. “You ran away, Rowena. You stole some food like a child, too.”
She didn’t answer immediately, but rather clung to him with her head down. Finally, she whispered, “I would have replaced it. I was planning to ask Lady Ediva to send some back here, and I would have worked for the cost.”
He made a soft noise and hoped it didn’t sound disapproving. He cared not for the lost provisions. Rather, he needed to start this conversation with something.
Rowena added, “What are you going to do with those two? You can’t leave them tied up there.”
“Nay, I won’t. I will dispatch a pair of guards to bring them in. The third man is too injured to return to help them. I will send the dog to find him.”
They dropped into silence again. Stephen wondered if he should urge the horse to walk. As if the stallion knew his master, the beast stamped his foot in answer. To ease the edginess, he turned it in a wide circle.
They had not finished this conversation, but he could see no way to segue back to what needed to be said. He finally said firmly, “You need to explain your actions.”
Rowena tipped her head to one side and pressed her cheek against Andrew’s soft curls. He waited.
Did Stephen want her to defend herself? Aye. He could engage that, but not this heavy silence.
Were you planning to argue your point? What was your point? How you forced her decision to run away? How you were justified to treat her father so kindly?
He wasn’t. But he did not want a rebellion. Or was it just the way he preferred to work?
Slyly, hoping those who opposed you would slip up and make a mistake, so you could justify an arrest? Or accusingly, like Josane, until the truth of your actions slapped you in the face?
Stephen tightened his grip on the reins. ’Twas easier to fight on his own terms than to risk the unknown. Aye, and ’twas easier to do what he wanted than to trust that God had His own plan.
What about his plans? Such as the ones he’d implemented using Rowena as bait. In his quest to find her, he’d set aside the fact he’d used her for the safety of the kingdom, but now, holding her, he could not go further until he admitted it to her.
“Rowena, I need to confess something.”
She looked up at him.
“I used you as bait to find your attacker, but not because you were attacked. Not completely, anyway, but rather, ’twas part of an order from the king.”
“What order?”
“I was to find any rebels who might plot against the king. I was to arrest them and take them to London to be questioned and punished. King William cannot put whole platoons in each village, for his men fight the Welsh and up north. So he must use people like me to remove any threat to his sovereignty. I guessed that whoever would hurt you would also rebel against the king, and that is the real reason I used you as bait. For that, I am sorry. ’Twas wrong of me.”
Rowena was silent for a moment. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I trust you. I didn’t completely before, and we both know you can’t demand another’s faith when you don’t trust people yourself. Do you forgive me?”
As he looked down at her, her expression changed. “If you trust me with this, Stephen, then will you trust me with something else?”
“What is that?”
“To know fully in your heart that you are not to blame for your brother’s death. I have watched you and heard what is said about how you feel about it. But ’tisn’t true, Stephen. Corvin was killed in battle. Don’t believe anyone who says ’twas your fault. Can you trust me with that truth?”
Blinking and tightening his jaw, Stephen urged the horse forward. They rode for some time, with him mulling over Rowena’s words.
In a moment back at the campsite, he realized, his attention on fighting the cook, he hadn’t seen Hundar prepare to attack him. Rowena saved his life.
He could have died, and then where would Rowena be?
He’d been looking in another direction that day at Hastings. Corvin had also been fighting while Stephen’s attention was diverted by that one Saxon. ’Twas a tragic accident.
“I know I am not to blame for Corvin’s death.” The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. But they were tru
e.
Rowena did not look up. Shouldn’t she say something? All she offered him was a small sniffle and a tightened grip. And what did she mean by her soft crying? He hated being so unsure.
She sniffled again and he pursed his lips. The only thing he was sure of right this very moment was how he felt. But did he dare risk this softened heart of his, when more danger lay ahead?
Could he say I love you when he didn’t know how the day would turn out? He spurred the horse back to a canter, and they remained silent all the way into the village.
When they reached Kingstown, he’d spotted the pair of guards returning from the west, from Taurin’s estate. He ordered them to where he’d left Hundar. When they returned, they were to tell him what they’d discovered on their trip.
Stephen halted the horse in front of the small church, with its door shut tight and nary a soul around. ’Twas still too early, even for the priest, who rose early to pray and prepare for morning services. But not for long. Dawn was close at hand. “Go into the chapel, Rowena. And do not leave until I come for you.”
Stephen eased her onto the frosty ground, and looking down at her, he knew his sister had seen the truth in him long before he had. He was truly in love.
Rowena looked up at him in the waning moonlight, her pale eyes wide. Hurt blossomed there.
Have I lost your love, Rowena? Oh, how I know so little of it, having shut away my heart for so long.
And her child, that sweet boy with warm, dark eyes full of watchfulness, that little round nose, and mouth open in constant awe, stared also up at her.
Regardless, Stephen would protect them both. He wanted to hold them close and keep them there, but the chapel was safer than being with him, considering the task that lay ahead.
“Where are you going?” she whispered.
“Hundar has no reason to bear a grudge against you. He was paid. And I intend to confront the person who paid him. Now go into the chapel and stay there.”
Stephen swung his horse around and looked over his shoulder at the pair watching warily. “And, dear Rowena, pray for me. I have been betrayed and my task is a distasteful one.”
He spurred on his horse toward the stables. Aye, distasteful and surprising. He’d arrested many a man for conspiring against the crown. He’d fought at Senlac and battled fools who’d tried to assault the king. And although William was a powerful man in his own right, battle-hardened from years of fighting to be the successor to his father, Duke Robert, Stephen was his chief bodyguard and well trained for it.
Until today, he was one who cared little that he hurt people. He’d long ago reconciled with that warrior side of him. He was a soldier as King David had been, and ’twas all the justification he needed.
He wasn’t as cold as that anymore. He knew the sin of it.
But now he was afraid he wasn’t up to the battle that lay ahead.
* * *
Rowena watched him ride off, fear gripping her. Not just from what could happen, but also from what had happened back on the road. She’d accepted Stephen’s confession without so much as a blink of the eye. He’d used her for his own gain, just as her father and Taurin had done.
And it didn’t matter. She not only trusted him, but more. She loved him.
God in heaven, protect him.
She pulled hard on the chapel door, for it, like the manor’s main door, opened outward on loud, unwilling hinges. ’Twas for safety, she presumed, for opening the door took effort and an unarmed hand, thus detracting from an easy invasion.
Andrew wriggled and called out in his usual gibberish, though the tone was fast becoming whiny and hungry.
“Hush,” she told her son softly, though he ignored her as he squirmed. Having recovered from his ordeal by the campfire and been lulled to sleep on Stephen’s mount for a time, he wanted to be out of the sling and moving around. She wondered if she should let him crawl in the chapel.
She pulled the door shut behind her. No expensive candles were lit. After feeling her way to the spark box, she opened it, and the draft made the piece of bone glow brighter.
Putting Andrew on the floor, for she now feared he would reach for things he shouldn’t, she quickly lit the lamp beside the spark box.
The wick was too short, but the small flame did much to drive away the penetrating darkness. Rowena set down the lamp and sat on the closest pew, leaving its short door open. Feeling a bit uneasy, she only perched on the bench’s edge. Andrew held up his hands. Typical of a child, he’d changed his mind about being free.
Mayhap he hated the darkness as much as she did. All those years living in the barn, hearing the sounds of vermin and livestock but not seeing them, had taught her to hate a world with only noise. Lamps and torches were too dangerous to be left lit in stables, so she’d endured many black nights.
Rowena pulled Andrew into her arms, and as she hugged him, she prayed. Then after taking a break, she prayed again. Each time for Stephen’s safety, followed by a plea to teach her to forgive.
How was it possible to love a man and not forgive him? She truly loved Stephen, yet she knew he could never return that love, nor would he see any reason to disbelieve her lying father’s filthy tale. Stephen had found her only to keep his promise to shelter her, and should that include her return to her family, so be it. No doubt he’d be glad to release her, for she had brought nothing but trouble.
Lord, help me to understand everything. Help me to forgive. If You can help with unbelief, You can help with unforgiveness.
Time rolled by, and when Andrew nuzzled her, Rowena fed him. He let out a loud burp before settling down against her bosom. Without any windows, she couldn’t say if dawn had started already.
Then a harsh scrape ripped through the chapel.
* * *
Stephen strode into the manor, finding the expected quiet of the predawn. Only the cook and her maid were up, but already the scents of fresh bread and warming broth had begun to waft through the downstairs. New lights lit the corridor, and he was grateful for them.
He went straight to his office, stopping only to awaken Gaetan and hand him his sword and dagger and order a light breakfast. He wanted to send a meal to the chapel, but ’twas best that no one know where Rowena was. He would act as if all were normal until he found the proof he sought.
In his office, he lit the lamp and drew out the financial ledger. Before he opened it, he freed the delicate, embroidered purse he’d confiscated from Hundar and counted the silver coins. A considerable sum, and one not readily available to most men.
Gaetan returned with the kitchen maid, appearing to hope he would offer good news, but Stephen stayed silent. She served his food, dipped her head and with the squire left quietly.
Setting the purse with its counted coins aside, Stephen opened the ledger. Comparing it with the coins in his strongbox, he began to pore over the record of the manor’s logistics, half hoping he would not find what he eventually found.
’Twas as he suspected. The money to pay Hundar came from within the manor for ’twas the exact amount missing. Silver coins only a manor would have.
And so, he thought, looking again at the small feminine purse he’d scooped up at Hundar’s feet, ’twas time to force an answer, though his heart ached at the task.
Nay, Rowena deserved the truth.
Even from you. Tell her the truth about how you feel. Risk your heart, even though you now know how you’ve sinned.
He discarded that reminder. Not yet. After locking up his proof, he went straight to Josane’s room. There, after pounding on her door loudly enough to awaken the entire manor, he shifted impatiently. There was only one rush lit upstairs, and it was nearly out.
Josane’s personal maid opened the door a crack, and Stephen, accepting the invitation boldly, strode into his sister’s chamber.
She sat up in bed, her braids hanging from her nightcap as she pulled up on her bedclothes. “Stephen! What is it now? You are worse than a child!”
“I want answers, Josane.”
“At this hour? What’s wrong? Where is Rowena? Has something happened? Have you been up all night?”
“Aye. And I find it interesting that you retired earlier, then bounced out of bed to ask after Rowena, especially since you told me to look for her on a road on which I could easily be ambushed.”
“What are you talking about?” Josane accepted a cloak from her maid, tossing him a scowl as she pulled the garment over her shoulders. “Of course I told you to search for her. What else could I do? I couldn’t ride out into the night myself, nor could I—”
“Never mind. I need to know where a quarter of the manor’s coinage has gone to.”
The maid lit the lamp as Josane fastened her cloak. Both women gasped. “Are you addled? Rowena is missing and you decide ’tis time to count the manor’s silver? If those coins aren’t in the strongbox in your office, I have no idea where they are!”
“Where is your purse?”
She looked blankly at him. “My purse? ’Tis with my things. My maid takes them for the night. But ’tis nearly always empty. I’d be a fool to prance around this village with coins jingling.”
“Where are your keys to the strongbox?” he barked.
Josane stiffened and he knew she would not crumble under his harsh tone. “I will assume Rowena is safe, for surely you would not be asking this nonsense if she weren’t.” She looked through the dim room to her maid. “Get my belt, my purse and my keys.”
The maid hesitated. She glanced at Stephen, then at the door, then at her mistress.
In a sudden, surprising burst, she fled past Stephen and into the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rowena spun at the harsh noise. The tiny door to the right of the altar scraped open, and still unused to the odd arrangement, she waited, her breath held fast.
Udella peered out, her own lamp already lit. “Rowena! I thought ’twas too early for our chaplain to come for services.” She looked more intently. “What has brought you here, child?”
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