The Lily and the Sword

by Sara Bennett

  “He discovered both of us.”

  Radulf took a ragged breath and turned his face away, so that Lily could see only the masculine curve of his cheek with its line of uneven stubble, and the white scar near his eye, a reminder of the thing he had done.

  His vulnerability was like an ache inside her, and she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from crying out at the injustice of what she knew he was about to tell her.

  “He found us together, indulging in our usual carnality. We rarely spoke—there were no words to say. If there had been a joining of minds as well as bodies…But we were as animals.” He shuddered, and Lily wondered if his fever was increasing. Gently, she brushed her fingers across his brow, but he did not seem any hotter.

  “Anna saw him first, over my shoulder, and when I turned my head he was standing above us. I got up off her. I was naked, and somehow that shamed me more than anything else, when he was fully clothed. My legs felt as weak as watered milk and I was stuttering my apologies, as if that could make it better.”

  He gave a soft laugh, a man looking back at the self-deceits of youth.

  “He struck me. The heavy ring on his finger sliced open my face. I was fortunate he did not take out his dagger and cut me into ribbons, although I did not think myself fortunate at the time. I stood before him, blinded with my own blood, while she wept that it was my fault, that I had formed a calf-love for her and pestered her and, when she still wouldn’t give in to me, that I had taken her by force.”

  “And he believed that?” Lily gasped. Despite Radulf’s heated body close to hers, she felt cold. As if he sensed the change, Radulf pulled her closer.

  “No. I don’t think he did. I think he saw through her lies that time. He had been blind with love until then, so saturated with it that he showered her with an endless array of riches. Everything she asked for, he would find and give to her. He had doted on her, an old man’s autumn madness for a much younger and beautiful woman. Maybe he thought if he gave her what she wanted she would dote on him in return. Now the scales had fallen from his eyes and he was confronted by a stark and terrible truth. And I think it was as much that truth as his son’s faithlessness that destroyed him.”

  Outside the chamber, voices had risen in a friendly squabble. Jervois shouted for them to hush and remember their lord. When silence fell again, Radulf resumed his monologue.

  “He told her to leave. He sent her back to her family—even then he could not bear to abandon her entirely. As for me…he turned from me without a word. He left and took sanctuary in a monastery in the north, and that was where he died six months later. We never spoke again, and I have no doubt he died cursing me.”

  Lily found her voice. “And what of Anna?”

  “Oh, Anna would never have curled up and died of her shame. She remarried, first to some old French baron, and then last year to Lord Kenton. I followed William of Normandy and became his Sword, and have been rewarded for my loyalty. In truth, I have shown William more loyalty than I did my own father.”

  “So when you saw Lady Anna at the castle, you were not shaken by remembered love for her,” Lily whispered, amazed. She had tormented herself with a fantasy of her own making.

  “‘Remembered love’?” Radulf retorted angrily. “I hated her. I had heard from Lord Henry that she was asking after me, as if what we had done to my father was gone and forgotten! As if she believed I could touch her again without feeling sick to my stomach.” He took a sharp breath and held it, steadying himself. Lily reached out to touch the back of his hand, and he turned it so that his fingers could tangle with hers. His grip hurt.

  “I could see, after she sent her dress for you to wear, that she would not leave me alone. I had to make her see once and for all how I felt about her. That was why I agreed to her meeting at the chapel. And she came. She said that she had never forgotten me, that no one was like me. I told her that I wished to God I could forget her! She thought I didn’t mean it. ‘I couldn’t live if I believed that,’ she said. So I told her I hated her and that she had made my life unbearable, and that I lived constantly with the memories of what we had done to my father and that his dying words were probably a curse upon us both. This scar reminds me every day, even if I could forget.”

  Radulf’s eyes were black hell in a face white and pinched with a pain and anger so deep, they went far beyond a priest’s healing.

  “She was his wife!” he burst out, and seemed to hover a moment on the brink of some dark abyss. Slowly, visibly, he pulled himself back. “I was his son,” he went on, a little more calmly. “We betrayed him. There is no forgiveness, but she could not see that. So I told her that if she spoke to me or wrote to me or came close to me again, I would kill her and be glad of it.”

  “And that is why she tried to kill you?”

  “Aye.” He shuddered and was silent.

  After a time, Lily said, “There is evil in the world, but that does not mean we should stop living.”

  Radulf gave a bitter, shaky laugh. “Aye, my sweet simpleton, but neither does it mean we should purposely seek that evil out.”

  “You have been scarred in more than your flesh, Radulf, but not every woman is an Anna.”

  He knew that—in his heart he knew that, but there were other factors to consider. His father’s willing blindness, his doting, foolish love that made others laugh at him behind his back. There had been times since when Radulf wondered whether his father had known of their affair from the first, and had chosen not to see. Until the proof was pushed under his nose and he could no longer pretend.

  How could a man cling to such a woman’s love and be willing to give up his pride, his honor? It horrified Radulf. He was forever on the watch for similar traits in himself. And now he feared that in Lily, he had found his nemesis. Because he wanted her so much that he was willing to forgive and forget just about anything to keep her.

  “You were young and hot-blooded,” Lily was saying with cool good sense, rising up on her elbow so that she could gaze down into his face. “She was experienced in such matters, and did not care what harm she caused. She has shown that again tonight. You are grown now, Radulf, and wiser. Maybe your father did hate you then. Maybe he hated and loathed himself for loving such a wicked woman. But Radulf, I know he would be proud of the man you have become. You are a man to make any father proud.”

  Touched by her generosity, Radulf reached up and stroked her cheek. There were dark shadows under his eyes; his tale had drained him. Lily kissed his dry lips, a chaste kiss, and was surprised when his manhood twitched against her thigh. He reached out to grasp her head in his big hand, holding for longer, deeper kisses that were not so chaste.

  “Radulf, your shoulder,” she gasped, but he ignored her, reaching down to clasp her bottom and bring her sprawling over his hips. She wanted to protest more, but he had found the place between her thighs and knew she was ready for him. He smiled up at her with simple male pride.

  “I can bear it if you can, mignonne.”

  Lily gasped softly as he thrust up into her, his body turned slightly to the side to protect his shoulder. They moved slowly, the need that drove them as intense as ever and yet subdued because of his shoulder and the story he had told. Lily arched in pleasure, feeling his hands on her breasts, her tangled hair a curtain about them.

  Only a fine, strong man could rise from such a beginning without becoming twisted and weak. Like Vorgen, like Hew. Like Anna. Any woman would be proud to call such a man husband. To desire such a man, to love such a man…

  I love you. The realization filled Lily with wonder. I love you for who you are, and for what you are. Radulf was the man she had dreamed of all her life.

  The tremors pulsed through her body from the place where they joined, rippling upward and outward. Lily’s senses were sharper, more attuned than ever before, as if the realization of her love had changed her in some fundamental way. The world she had known until now was spinning away from her, and there was only Radulf to cling
to, and his hold upon her was strong and sure.

  Somehow as she collapsed, Lily remembered to mind his shoulder and slide to his other side, a boneless tangle of hair and limbs.

  Radulf slept almost immediately, and while he slept, Lily listened to him breathe. He didn’t love Anna. The words formed a song in her mind, a lively jig for drum and whistle. It seemed frivolous to be so happy when he had told her a tale so sad. She had been warned that Radulf did not trust, and now she knew why. What man could believe in the basic goodness and honesty of women when he had been so callously betrayed by the first woman he’d ever loved?

  He was a strong-willed man, but perhaps that will would work against his ever properly healing. He would hold a part of himself back, stop himself from trusting and loving completely, in case he, like his father, was betrayed.

  It came to Lily then that, although he had opened himself up to her tonight, she might never win all of his trust. She and Radulf had come together in a hot flood of desire, and then he had learned that she was not who she said she was. She had tricked him, lied to him, although her reasons had been sound. But the similarities between Radulf and Anna, and Radulf and Lily, were there: the passionate beginning, the—in Radulf’s eyes—betrayal…

  Lily recalled his fury at Trier when he saw the hawk ring and established who she was. Then the forced marriage. The fact that she was no Anna, that she loved him, would make no difference. Oh, Radulf enjoyed her body, but that was all he would ever give her—his skill and his lust. Maybe it was all he could give any woman. The change in her feelings would not change his.

  He did not want her love; her declaration of it would make him even more suspicious.

  And yet Lily hugged her newfound knowledge to herself. She loved Radulf. True, she also had difficulty with trust because of Vorgen and Hew, but still, she loved him. And would continue do so, if necessarily secretly, forever.

  Radulf’s breathing soothed her. Lily dozed, and found herself in a gray place between sleeping and waking. She wandered, and for a time was back in Vorgen’s stronghold, a cold unwilling wife, captive and afraid, longing above all else to be free. And then time moved on and she was running like a hare before the Norman hounds as they pursued her across what had been her land. She was free of Vorgen now, yet still a captive of her birth and Vorgen’s machinations and the lies others told of her. Radulf chased her, riding his black stallion, and although Lily was terrified of capture, in her heart she longed for it.

  The half-waking dreams shifted. She was in the rain and standing before the dark, abandoned bulk of St. Mary’s Chapel. Radulf lay dead upon the ground, his blood leaching away, his face white and still, like her father when his body was carried home upon the makeshift bier. Lily screamed out in her loss and pain, running to Radulf’s side. But the scene changed again, and Anna was there. She and Radulf stood together, arms entwined, heads close. As if sensing Lily’s presence, they looked up at her. Anna was smiling with a savage mockery. “Did you really think I would let him go?” she asked Lily in that melodious voice. “He is my beloved. Forever.”

  “No!” cried Lily. “He is not! He is mine!”

  And Radulf stood and smiled as they fought over him.

  Lily woke with a start. Her heart was hammering very loudly, but even as it calmed and slowed, the noise went on. It was then she comprehended someone was banging upon the door.

  Stiffly she rose, pulling one of the blankets about her nakedness, her toes curling against the cold floor. In the bed Radulf stirred, fumbling for his sword. He rose, cursing as he jarred his shoulder, and stood huge and naked behind her.

  Lily met his eyes and, at his nod, called out, “Who is it?”

  “Jervois. Lady, open the door.”

  Radulf frowned. “Jervois?”

  Outside, Jervois’s weary face loomed from the shadows. “Forgive me, my lord, lady, but…There is a messenger come from the king.”

  Lily pushed her hair out of her eyes with one hand, holding on to the blanket with the other. She tried to focus, her head still muzzy with dreams. Radulf had no such trouble. “What does he want?”

  Jervois hesitated as if seeking the best way to answer, and then decided upon brevity. “Lady Anna Kenton is dead.”

  Lily shuddered. “Sweet Jesu.”

  Whatever Radulf had been expecting, it was not this. He was good at hiding his feelings, but this time he was not quick enough to disguise from Lily the shock and bewilderment.

  “It is beyond belief,” he whispered, and lifted his hands to cover his face, before shoving his fingers through his short black hair. “When did this happen?”

  It was Jervois who answered. “After she left you. Her body was found near a candlemaker’s shop. Lord Kenton had sent his men out to find her when she did not return from her meeting with you. He is saying now that her death is your fault.”

  “He is blaming Radulf?” Lily gasped. Her blanket slipped, exposing the plump curve of one breast. She didn’t notice, though, wondering if Radulf was to suffer Anna’s lies even in death. “Jervois, you must send the messenger back to say Radulf had nothing to do with Lady Anna’s death!”

  “Wait.” Radulf came up behind her, his big hot body pressing close. “Do you mean he is claiming I killed her with my own hand?”

  Jervois nodded. “That is what he means, sir, though he has not said it so plainly as that. He blames you. He says that you and his wife were once…lovers.” Color stole into Jervois’s cheeks. “Lord Kenton claimed that Lord Radulf had been begging the Lady Anna to be his lover again. She was considering it. She told Kenton that she was going to meet you tonight, my lord, and give you her answer.”

  Lily tried to think. “She said such things to him, her husband? Did he not stop her? Why did he allow her to go?”

  Radulf gave a brief bitter laugh. “You did not know her, lady. She had Kenton twisted about her finger. Maybe he killed her himself—she might have twisted him too tightly.”

  Lily turned her head to look at him, causing the blanket to slip again. Was Lord Kenton capable of murder? Anna’s face came to her then, the rigidity of her expression as she rode past Lily in the rain. She had been riding to her death and didn’t know it. Earlier Lily had celebrated the fact that Radulf did not love Anna; now she felt a sting of guilt. No woman deserved to die alone, in the rain and the dark. But it was the living with whom Lily must now concern herself.

  “Why does the king send this message to you, Radulf? Does he, too, believe you guilty of this crime? I had thought he was your friend.”

  Radulf looked down, meeting her eyes. His own were without expression, but Lily remembered the shock that had filled them a moment before.

  “William is my friend,” he said. “He has sent to warn me, for whatever outcome William might wish for, he knows there will be questions asked. Lord Kenton is a powerful man with many friends. The king cannot afford to dismiss his accusations without hearing them properly and fairly.”

  “I see.” And she did see. A powerful man with a wanton wife, one upon whom he doted. Just as Radulf’s father had doted upon that same woman. Would Lord Kenton accuse Radulf through jealousy, because in his grief he was determined someone must pay? Maybe he truly did believe Radulf had murdered his wife. Or had he killed her himself and was simply seeking a scapegoat?

  Lily shifted uncomfortably, and the blanket slipped still further, catching on the very tip of her breast. Jervois stared over her head, pretending he hadn’t noticed, while Radulf reached up to catch the cloth, tucking it more securely about her shoulders in a proprietary gesture.

  “It is late,” he said. “Tomorrow will come soon enough. Send a message back to the king saying that I thank him, Jervois, and will present myself before him tomorrow.”

  Jervois nodded and slipped back into the shadows, treading carefully between the bulky shapes of sleeping men. Radulf closed the door and, taking Lily’s hand in his, led her back to bed.

  Morning dawned bright, the smells of fresh br
ead and pies wafting through the inn. Radulf woke when Lily rose to wash her face. He stretched and then groaned when he moved his bruised and swollen shoulder, but the fever had abated, and he looked remarkably well compared to the evening before.

  “You are up with the birds, lady,” he murmured.

  She turned to him, trying to hide her fears behind a smile, but he saw past the mask. His face grew still, watchful, and he sat up, wincing as the movement jarred his shoulder again.

  “What is it? Tell me.” Then, as she tried to find the words, “You have thought on what I told you last night and have decided you cannot live with such a man.”

  Lily stared at him in amazement. Could Radulf really believe himself so unworthy? Her heart ached for him as she shook her head. “No, Radulf, I have not decided any such thing, and I wonder at you for thinking so. I was thinking of the king’s messenger and wondering what will happen today.”

  A gleam dispersed the dullness in his eyes.

  “And I was wondering whether you mourn Lady Anna, despite what occurred between you.”

  Radulf raised a dark brow. “Mourn her?”

  “You had only just begun to make your peace with the past.”

  “Aye, that is true.” He thought a moment. “Although I felt only disgust for her and her manipulating ways, she should not have died like that. If Kenton killed her then he should pay.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then the murderer will pay. William is a just man—England will be a law-abiding land under his rule.”

  “It was a law-abiding land before William invaded it,” Lily retorted. As Radulf went to rise, she pressed her hand to his chest. “No.”

  He stopped, giving her a quizzical look. They both knew his obedience was an illusion. If he had wanted to rise he could easily have done so.

  “I will bind your shoulder again before you go.”

  He nodded. “Not too bulky, in case I have to fight.”

  “Radulf, you cannot think you will be forced to defend yourself with a sword!”