Valens the Fletcher and his Captive [Medieval Captives 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Lindsay Townsend

  “Val, Val!” Jack chortled, patting Valens’s chest and raising his face to be kissed.

  “Steady there,” came the cry from the house. “Uncle Valens is not going away.”

  The title burned sweetly in Valens’s head as he jogged the boy on his hip.

  “Story!” Jack demanded, waving the cup as if it was a mace. “Val, story!”

  “Stories are for bedtime,” Valens replied. Delighted as he was to be sharing old tales with Jack and Edith at twilight, he was still glad that his lord could not see him now, cradling a toddler with baby-spit adorning his shoulder. And soon it will be six weeks that Sebastian has been waiting for my wench and me to appear at his tower. Let us hope he will not care.

  “Ale and weak ale for everyone.”

  Katherine strolled along the path with Edith riding on her hip. She carried two flagons and cups in a carrying sling and smiled as she approached. “Washing done. How was your day?”

  Valens blinked, trying not to stare. Katherine had bathed and washed her hair. The pretty waif of the past few weeks had been replaced by an elegant young matron. She wore a russet tunic that Thorkill had gifted her, cunningly pinned and tied with a sash so that it fit her slender figure. On his father the tunic had been knee-length, on Katherine the tunic became a gown, one that showed off her fair coloring.

  Best of all, she had no head-rail. Drying in a cloudy mass down her back, her hair was a ripe acorn brown, shot through with lighter tints and rippling with gentle curls. He wanted to run his fingers through it and kiss the soft warmth.

  “Valens?” Her smile was faltering, reminding him who she was, how she had come to him. He and Katherine were not true companions. It was for his sister’s child that he had seized her, and he had not glanced at Edith yet. Ashamed, he did so, and was startled afresh.

  Edie looked as Julia had done at the same age, bright and pretty and laughing. Dressed in a belted pale blue cloak Valens guessed was Jack’s, her little face glowed with health. The evening sun turned her cap of auburn curls into a crown of gold. She looked happy and alive.

  Katherine has done this. She saved her.

  “Come and see,” he replied, scrambling for an answer as he bowed her and Edith into the workshop.

  * * * *

  Something had changed between them, Katherine thought. She had smiled at Valens because it was good manners, but she had smiled at him before and not felt so happy or light, as if she could see heaven. Of course, it was hard for her to remain angry when she and Jack were well fed and when Valens treated Jack so nicely. Edie, too, was a sweetheart.

  I wonder if her uncle’s hair is as bright? Katherine blinked at the thought and then dismissed it. Valens was useful to Jack and her, that was all.

  “Here, little one.” With her son still riding on his hip, Valens crouched and handed Edith a new feather, taken from a cloth-wrapped bundle on his work bench. Swiftly, he turned to give the squirming Jack a similar feather.

  “Oh!” Aware she had blushed, Katherine was relieved that her soft exclamation had been covered by the babies’ cries of wonder. While Jack and Edie stroked and sucked their shimmering feathers, Katherine shuffled closer to Jack, trying not to notice how her son leaned into Valens’s wiry arm. “So colorful,” she murmured.

  “Peacock feather.” Valens ruffled Edith’s feather with a fingertip, making it dance and flicker in the evening light. “My lord has a few arrows fletched with it.”

  “Not goose?” Katherine asked, glancing at the honking, browsing goose flock encased in tall hurdles.

  “Goose is for common arrows.”

  “Eee!” Jack squawked, dangling from Valens’s arm to jiggle his feather at Edith.

  “These are for my lord.” Valens pointed to another bundle set on the work bench.

  He was skilled, Katherine grudgingly admitted, admiring the smooth, straight arrow spines. None had the lethal arrowheads fitted as yet but all were fletched, most with goose and a few with peacock.

  “Your lord does not consider archery to be worthless?” she asked, surprised. Most knights believed archers the dregs of any war-band.

  Valens shook his head. “My lord is a skilled archer. The fletching on these arrows is bigger simply to show off the peacock feathers.” He snorted in private amusement. “Sebastian would be insulted if I made his goose arrows with large fletches.”

  Against herself, Katherine was intrigued. “Why is that?”

  “Big fletches help to overcome any flaws in the spine of an arrow, but smaller fletching is better. In the hands of a skilled archer, the arrow will fly to its target more truly.”

  “What is the wood?” Katherine tapped an arrow shaft.

  “Ash. I use thread to tie the feathers to a spine and my own mix of beeswax and tallow to cover and protect the binding from insects.”

  She heard the pride in his work, a pride Eric had once possessed but, toward the end of his life, had lost. “How many arrows can you make in a day?”

  Her question went unanswered. Valens’s brown-and-red head came up, alert as a hound after a scent, and his breath stopped for an instant. He swung Jack into her arms and caught Edith up. “Back to the house. Someone is coming. A single horseman, so no threat, I think, but we shall do better inside.”

  Katherine had heard nothing yet but she had already learned that when Valens went still in that way it was wise to heed him.

  Swiftly, they all returned indoors to await the visitor.

  Chapter 5

  Valens glowered at the lean and rangy figure looming in the doorway and glared at the gold ring planted in the man’s huge palm. By Adam, my lord goes too far at times.

  Sebastian meanwhile returned his stare. “May I enter this house?” he demanded at last.

  Before he could reply, Katherine stepped forward with a brimming cup of ale.

  “Your health and fortune, sir,” she said in a low voice and proffered the cup, showing no dread of his dark, tall lord, a man who had cowed Vikings. Sebastian smiled at her.

  “My thanks, Mistress…?”

  “Kate, sir,” came the innocent-sounding reply, as the little baggage gave his lord the name he had hoped she would take on for his sake.

  “Kate. As Katherine means pure, your name is apt.” If Sebastian was surprised at her lack of fear he gave no sign of being so. “And are you well here?”

  Valens heard Kate’s small gasp and knew she had also understood the unspoken question. Irritated that his lord had to ask after her treatment, Valens quickly suppressed a bitter smile at her ambiguous reply.

  “As you see.”

  Sebastian’s dark blue eyes sharpened but he covered the rest of his reaction by drinking deeply. “Thank you, Kate.”

  Kate nodded and took back the cup.

  “And are you married to my fletcher?”

  Well, that was brutally straightforward.

  “Not yet,” said Valens quickly, coming forward as Sebastian ducked under the threshold. “That is my doing.”

  Braced for the roar of his lord’s anger, Valens was startled to hear the click of snapping fingers. Kate’s fingers.

  “Keep away from the fire, Edie,” Kate called, moving in a russet blur toward his niece. She asked over her shoulder, “Will you take, Jack, sir?”

  Seeing his gaunt lord nonplussed was a memory he would cherish for years, even though his automatic attempt to protect Kate seemed to have been superfluous.

  “This lad?” Sebastian bent from his great height and scooped Jack up, to the boy’s delighted squeal. “Up!” the child encouraged, giggling when Sebastian said in a soft, deep voice, “Have you aims to be a mason when you are grown, Jack, that you so love heights?”

  Jack goggled at the newcomer for another instant then butted his dark head against the crook of Sebastian’s arm, like a kitten seeking petting. Edith, on the verge of a jealous bawl, screwed up her face and turned red. To stop an outburst, Valens quickly dodged round Kate and gathered up his niece.

  “I s
uppose I must have them both,” huffed Sebastian, in the same soft deep way that meant he was secretly pleased, and held out his other arm.

  Soon he was settled on the bench with both babies on his lap, looking less fierce than Valens had ever seen him. But he was still Sebastian, lord of the high tower and dread alchemist, and after he had puffed out his cheeks for both babies he skewered Valens with another stare.

  “Pretty as these diversions are, I will have an answer. Why are you not married? It has been weeks. Why did you not come to the tower to wed?”

  “I was ill,” Valens replied, without considering why he did not wish to mention Edith’s recent sickness or Kate’s refusal to move at all.

  “You are never ill.” Sebastian’s unspoken “runt” sounded loud in Valens’s head.

  “My lord, I was—”

  His blundering reply was crisply interrupted. Kate placed another cup of ale on the bench close to Sebastian but out of reach of little grasping fingers and fixed his lord with a look as straight as an arrow.

  “He is trying to protect me. I do not wish to marry.”

  Sebastian rocked the infants on his lap, probably to cover his astonishment. “Why not?” he asked carefully after a moment.

  Kate threw up her hands. “How can I trust him? I do not know him.”

  Sebastian stretched his long shanks in front of him and toward the small summer fire. “You think I would give you to an inferior man?”

  Valens closed his eyes against Kate’s response to that then snapped them open. He was a spy, by Adam, and he wanted to see this.

  A shudder that had nothing to do with fear swept through the small, dainty woman standing in the middle of his house. “I am not anyone’s gift!” she blazed.

  Sebastian inclined his dark head. “Your pardon, Mistress. I meant only that if you cannot trust him you should trust me.” There was a tiny throb of warning in his final words. Valens knew his lord was offended that Kate might not trust him.

  “Perhaps.”

  * * * *

  Katherine crouched by the fire and swept the ashes together for something to do, some cover for her tumbling feelings. She was sick of being at the mercy of others and, even sharper, she was sick of secrets.

  And these two, these two men, were ripe with secrets because of who they were.

  She flinched as Valens’s square, capable hand touched her back and rested there, offering silent comfort. Turning in the hearth, she found him sitting beside her. He patted his leg and she was so astonished that she sat in his lap without further thought.

  Breathing in Valens’s scent of beeswax and tallow and wood-shavings, warmed by his arms around her waist and back, Katherine heard Lord Sebastian clear his throat.

  “My dear, what was your husband when he was alive?”

  He knew, she thought dully, lowering her head to escape those piercing blue eyes. The warm, capable hand stroked down her back and she settled. Valens would not hurt her or let her be harmed.

  “He was a coin maker.”

  “Not a weaver like yourself?” Valens’s surprise echoed in the little house and made Jack giggle. Sebastian rocked the babies in his long arms and narrowed his eyes.

  “How did he die?” he demanded.

  A fluttering panic rose up Katherine’s throat, but Valens kept holding her, kept stroking her tight shoulders, and she could answer.

  “Fever, in bed, but he and his older son Basil had been out all the previous night. They were involved in something, but Eric, my husband, would not tell me what it was.” The old bitter jealousy against Eric’s eighteen-year-old son tasted like sour ale in her mouth. “He and Basil kept their secrets.”

  “And I am a spy.” Valens understood without her having to say more. “You are weary of secrets.”

  You have no idea how weary.

  “Weary or not, that is no reason not to take him on,” Sebastian huffed. “Valens is a good man and arrow-making an honest trade.”

  “So is coin-making,” Katherine felt compelled to say.

  “Usually,” Sebastian qualified, “though you had your suspicions that something was amiss. No doubt there was forgery or coin clipping going on. Both are common enough with coin-makers.”

  “And risky,” snapped Valens, his sinewy arms tightening about her. “Your husband put you in danger by not telling you. I may spy, but I do not bring that within our house.”

  Our house. His words fell so easily from his lips, Katherine thought, and a sunny prickle of pleasure squirmed down her back.

  Sebastian shifted on the bench. “After your husband died, did your step-son drive you from your house?”

  Sebastian saw practical consequences, Katherine realized. Valens realized how she might feel. Responding to Sebastian’s question, she nodded.

  Valens covered her fluttering hands with one of his. “Did he hurt you? Basil?”

  A shadow loomed over her as Sebastian leaned forward. Katherine looked at Jack, happily fiddling with the fastenings of the man’s tunic, and could not speak.

  “He threatened your son?” Valens asked, his amber eyes narrowing to bright slits of candle flame. “Bastard!”

  “Your language is less than courteous,” Sebastian remarked, though his eyes also flashed and he stamped a foot, causing Edith to gasp then giggle.

  “He beat me and I stayed,” Katherine admitted softly. “We had nowhere else to go, Jack and I. Then he tried to assault me. I beat him off with a stool and barred my chamber door at night and I still stayed.” A deep sense of shame welled in her and her eyes prickled with unshed tears. “Then he threatened Jack.”

  “So you left.” Valens hugged her tightly. “Of course you left. And clubbing him with a stool! Well done.”

  “You were wise to do so,” Sebastian was saying, as Katherine basked in Valens’s approval. “And now you have the chance for a better life, for you and your son.” He kissed the top of Jack’s head.

  “But—” Katherine wanted to run outside, join Thorkill and the cow in the top meadow, go anywhere but face this weight of expectation. Valens saved her again.

  “You do not have to decide today,” he said.

  “By Lucifer, no, you do not.” Sebastian swung the two youngsters softly onto the floor and rose, bending his head to stop his skull colliding with a roof beam. “Though you should not delay too long.”

  “My lord.” The title felt strange to Katherine but she used it, if only for the pleasure of seeing Sebastian startled afresh. Yes, it seemed she was going to do this, marry Valens, but it should be for more than his or his lord’s wishes. Nothing of love, but then there was nothing but companionship when I married Eric, and little else after. Her heart withered a little at the thought, but then she braced herself afresh. Eric had promised her things, had sworn he had put such vows in legal ways, in writing. But he had not. Another secret he hid from me, and now a spy expects me to trust him. I will make sure, this time. “My lord, Valens swore he would help me. Will you do the same?”

  “Your Jack’s rights?” Sebastian looked from her son to her to Valens and nodded once, sharply. “Valens, with me, please.”

  He strode from the hut.

  * * * *

  Outside, Valens braced himself for his lord’s “suggestions”, which he knew would not be long in coming.

  Sebastian swung round with a flare of his cloak and faced him, his face as yielding as stone. “Court her, runt. Begin tomorrow.”

  “I have been doing it,” Valens answered quietly, irritated that his lord should consider him so blind. “She needs to trust me. I know that.”

  “A coin-maker.” Sebastian slapped a glove against his palm. “Our sheriff will want to know if the coiners have been up to their tricks again with counterfeiting.”

  “There is also the boy’s inheritance.”

  Sebastian squeezed his shoulder. “More there than little Jack’s rights, mister fletcher, if you care to look.”

  Valens folded his arms across his chest. “I will ask he
r,” he replied, stressing the word ask.

  “I will bring someone to marry you both in four days.” Sebastian spoke as if the wedding was a foregone conclusion. He slapped the gold ring he had brought with him on top of the water barrel, another silent command. “Be ready.”

  “Have you a love philter, then?” Valens said, gripping his forearms so he would not lash out at the taller man. Something of his anger must have shown in his face, in more than the flush that ramped up his cheeks, for Sebastian, not one to back down usually, took a step away from him.

  Sebastian sighed and shrugged. “Women like flowers. Walks in the woods. ‘Tis summer and all is still pretty.”

  Valens growled low in his throat. “She will have done such with her first husband.” The thought did not make him jealous, so why did resentment curdle his insides? I do not want Kate gathering daisies with anyone but me and the little ones.

  “You are not needed for harvest.” Implacably cheerful, his lord must have sensed his less than happy mood and, amazingly, offered a solution. “I will take fewer arrows from you this month.”

  Speaking, Sebastian turned and strode to his bay palfrey. “Make yourself smarter, runt, like a squirrel in courting fur,” he called over his shoulder. “Four days, remember.”

  Valens quelled the impulse to make a vulgar gesture after his retreating lord and sagged a little on his heels as the rest of the world came back in a swirl of colors and sounds and scents. Walking to the barrel and picking up the gold ring, he admitted that the summer was indeed pretty, as pretty as Kate herself, and he had four days to woo her.

  But how do I do it?

  Chapter 6

  The day dawned hot and bright and before she could set to baking or brewing, Valens herded Katherine and the children out into the woods. She had no objection to going—the woodland was cool and her babies loved the dappled shade and pretty butterflies. Valens brought ale and a pannier, slung over one shoulder, filled with oat cakes, cheese, pine nuts, slices of pease pudding, and freshly picked garden raspberries. He carried Edie on his other shoulder, like Saint Christopher bearing Christ, and Jack would not be content until Valens carried him, too.