Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1)

by Debbie Lynne Costello

  Brithwin wanted to stomp her foot. He knew she would not wish to feed the gossip mongers with juicy meat. “What else do you wish to discuss?” Her shoulders dropped as she turned back into the room.

  He smirked. “Let’s move to my solar where we can both sit.”

  In the solar, Brithwin collapsed into the chair. He looked so smug—a man who had proved he would get what he wanted. “It is unseemly to speak of private matters before a room full of servants and men-at-arms.”

  “’Tis of little concern to me.”

  Brithwin rolled her eyes. “Aye, that is the truth of it.”

  He continued to stand, arms folded, glaring at her. “First I seek an answer to my question. I would know why you do not take my word as the truth?”

  She averted her gaze, mulling her answer. “’Tis as I said. You give the orders, and the only man who ever wanted to hurt me that way is dead.”

  “Your mind must be addled to believe this. I tell you on my honor as a knight, I was unaware and had no part in it.”

  She tried to decipher the truth in his words. His jaw clenched as he swore on his honor, something she could tell he loathed to do. He wanted her to take him at his word, yet he would not do the same for her. “I will pray for the Lord to reveal the truth to me. That is all I can offer.”

  “If He answers you, you will know my hands are clean—although, I wouldn’t be putting all my bread in that basket.”

  “If that is all, my lord, I would like to break my fast and go to morning prayer.”

  Royce picked up a plate of food which sat on a chair inside the solar door and placed it on her lap. “I thought as much, so I had something brought up. You can eat here. Prayer will wait for you, as you are well aware, for there is one other item I wish to inquire about.”

  He sank into a nearby chair and tented his fingers together, his gaze on her unwavering. She sat motionless and refused to give in to the urge to shift under his perusal.

  Silence engulfed the room while time deceived her. Had she sat under his scrutiny for only a few minutes? A loud crack from the fire disrupted the quiet. She jerked. A slight smile hinted at the corner of his lips. It would seem he had been waiting for a chink in her armor.

  “Do you recall the eventide before the fire, Brithwin?”

  She eyed him wearily. “A sennight has passed and many an unpleasant night, so ’tis hard to say which is which.”

  “Perhaps if I were to assist your memory it would help. You went to the village and did not return until well after the evening meal. Upon your arrival here, you went to your chamber and waited for me to leave my solar. Once all was quiet, you slipped into my room; however, I returned sooner than you expected.”

  Brithwin gave in to the urge to shift in her chair. Did he know how things had happened or was he guessing? A cold trickle crept down her spine.

  He lowered his hands and leaned forward. His eyes sparkled with assurance. “What you do not know, and would not know because we have yet to spend a night together, is I am a light sleeper.”

  Brithwin’s throat went dry and she tried to swallow. Heat climbed to her face. Dread lay in her stomach. Would he punish her now? She set the plate of roasted meat and cheese on the table, the aroma suddenly disagreeable.

  “I was awakened to see what I believed was a common thief sneaking about my chamber. Imagine my surprise when I attacked the intruder and discovered him to be my wife. I had to ask myself, why would you be in here in the middle of the night? My questions had to wait ’til morning.” His look turned dark. “Of course, you would know why that was.”

  Brithwin could sit still no longer. She shot from her chair. “I only defended myself.”

  “I thought that might help your recollection.” Royce’s eyes bore into her as she began pacing the room. “By all means, continue. I am nothing but ears.”

  Her plait fell over her shoulder and down the front of her gown. Picking it up, she ran her hand over the neat weave of her hair. She didn’t know where to begin and certainly didn’t want to reveal more than she had to. “’Tis true, I did come here to get something that was mine. Elspeth forgot it when she gathered my things from this room.” She turned and glared at him. “I was given no notice I would be vacating my chamber so quickly.” He remained silent and inscrutable, apparently waiting for more. “’Twas my mother’s knife. It is all I have that was hers.”

  He frowned. “Why not just ask me for it? Did you think I would deny you something of your mother’s?”

  “I—I did not know.”

  “Do I seem without honor?” Exasperation filled his voice.

  “Nay. Aye. Oh, I do not know!”

  Royce chuckled. “I would have given it to you.”

  Why did he laugh at her? She could find no humor in the conversation or in the way her insides twisted.

  “So you say, and yet all I see is a man who has no trust in me. If I had asked and you denied me, I would have had no chance of retrieving it from your chamber.”

  “Why could you not tell me this when I asked? How many times did I give you opportunity to tell me you had taken the knife?”

  “Because I did not know what you would do.” She shrugged.

  “I knew what you had taken, for I saw it missing. I only wanted to hear you tell me with your own lips.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I tell the truth.”

  “Perhaps, but not all. There is more.”

  Brithwin crossed her arms in front of her. There was more but none he needed to know.

  “Until I hear the whole of it, we will not leave.” His tone brooked no argument this time.

  He settled back in the chair. She was certain he would hold her here for months. It was obvious he was used to getting his way.

  “Oh, very well. I was followed the eventide I had returned late to the castle.” She begrudged telling him the whole of it. “I wanted my knife for protection. Up until then I had no need for it and had not thought about where I had left it.”

  Royce raised his eyebrows. “Why did you not tell Thomas?”

  “Thomas would have made me stay in the safety of the grounds or made me take a knight with me.”

  Royce grimaced. “Had you but mentioned this to me, I could have told you that you were being guarded.”

  Fire darted through her veins. “You did not see fit to tell me of this?”

  His golden brown eyes locked with hers. “There is much I do not tell you.”

  “You had no—” Brithwin shoved her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “Am I still to be followed?”

  He smiled. “Aye.”

  “Why? Is there something else you have failed to tell me? Perchance you have enemies who would do me harm? Or could it be you still do not trust me?”

  “He is there for protection, my lady. I have enemies.”

  Was that a flicker of guilt? “Is there anything else you would like to know, my lord? I have wasted enough time here.”

  “I marvel at your stubbornness, my lady.” With a sigh, he nodded his head. “You are dismissed.”

  †††

  For a week after the confrontation with his wife, Royce had attempted to show more kindness and understanding toward Brithwin. To hear her say she had no blood on her hands when it came to his family’s deaths gave him some comfort even if he still had no proof.

  Here he stood, staring at the garden where Brithwin worked, holding in his hand the bouquet of wild flowers he’d picked outside the castles walls. It was a silly idea to bring her wildflowers when she worked in the middle of beautiful blooms. She’d probably think him an imbecile. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was as nervous as a young squire at his first battle. The hope to please his wife by bringing her flowers wilted like the blooms he’d already plucked from the bouquet and tossed aside.

  The decision to lob the rest of the flowers on the ground almost won when Brithwin lifted her head and put her hand up to shade her eyes. She gave a timid wave. Royce tried to swallow, h
is throat suddenly dry. He forced himself to walk.

  Her head was cocked, her cheeks flushed, and her wimple had fallen from her head, leaving her hair free to escape the plait.

  He stopped in front of her. “You look beautiful, my lady.” The wide-eyed shocked stare she gave him reminded him that he’d not given her such a compliment before. “I have thought it from the first time I set my eyes on you.”

  “Th-thank you, my lord. ‘Tis kind of you to say.” Her gaze fell to the flowers in his hands.

  He held them out. “For you. Not nearly as lovely as you, but I thought you might enjoy them.”

  “They are beautiful. ’Twas kind of you to think of me, my lord.”

  “I know you grow more beautiful blooms here in your own garden. I…I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you today.”

  Britwin’s eyes turned glassy and she swallowed. “They are more beautiful because no one tended them but our Lord. I weed and water my flowers to make them look as they do. But these,” she lifted them to her nose and breathed in, “these did not have as easy a time.” Her lashes fluttered. “And they are special because you picked them for me.”

  “Rosen Craig!” Jarren yelled from the court yard.

  Royce bowed. “I am glad they please you, my lady.” He sighed. “It appears I am needed. Shall I see you later at the evening meal?”

  She curtseyed. “Aye, my lord.”

  †††

  Brithwin stood at a loom in the weaver’s room while the rhythmic clicking of shuttles lulled her. Plunging into work had helped her put the nightmare of the dungeon behind her. She knew not whether her imprisonment or her argument with Royce had changed his view on her, he now seemed so different. He not only spoke to her with respect, but when he’d brought her the flowers, he’d almost seemed nervous, as if courting her.

  Perhaps they could live in some sort of harmony. Heaven knows she was ready for it. Each day with her father had held enough turmoil for a lifetime. If she and Royce could at least work well together and speak civilly to each other, she would try to be content.

  Elspeth’s chatter interrupted her thoughts. Her friend always wished to speak of the latest castle gossip, and it routinely grated on Brithwin’s nerves.

  Elspeth leaned toward her. “Don’t you think it would be so romantic to have a knight defend your honor?”

  Brithwin glanced over. “What do you speak of?”

  Elspeth huffed. “Have you not heard a word I said? The scullery maid said this happened to her.”

  Brithwin passed her shuttle through the warp threads of the tapestry she was weaving. “Thomas defended you.”

  Elspeth snorted. “He is old.”

  Brithwin fought a grin. “Thomas is not old. And you should not believe all you hear anyway. ’Tis meaningless talk, that is all.”

  “But you have heard the stories the troubadours tell, of chivalry, honor, and love. I have heard you speak of it yourself.” Elspeth gave her a smug look.

  “’Tis true.” Brithwin sighed and looked down at the loom. “But I have discovered there is no man who cares for a woman enough to put her before his own needs and desires. ’Tis purely dreams of a foolish woman.”

  Elspeth’s shoulders sagged. “Milady, please do not tell me you have given up on love.”

  “I am afraid it is so. A woman is nothing more than chattel, a mere possession. The sooner you realize that, the better off you will be. I have made my peace with it and you should, too. If I could leave here, knowing my people would be treated fairly, it would be tempting to go.” The memory of Royce handing her the flowers danced before her mind’s eye. Did she really want to leave now that something was changing between them?

  “Go?” Elspeth gave an unladylike snort. “Where would you go?”

  Brithwin thought for a moment. “I have aunts and uncles in Scotland. My mother’s family. Blood is a thick bond even if we have not met. Aye, that is what I would do. I would go to them.” But if she did, would she always wonder what might have been?

  “You have never spoken of them. I did not know.”

  “I know nothing of them. As you well know, I could not ask my father. When I was a young girl, I asked Sir Thomas about mother. He told me she was from Scotland. She and a group of travelers, which included Pater, stopped by for shelter on a stormy night. Neither she nor Pater ever left but the others in their group did. I went to my father because I desired to know more about her. He punished me.”

  “Scotland? You would travel that far?” She directed the subject away from Brithwin’s father, like so many times before.

  “Hmm . . . I would. To be free of these restraints would be wonderful.” But what if her restraints came with love and affection? Could she be happy with them, then? And even if she went to Scotland, she would be expected to marry. It would be no different she supposed.

  Elspeth tamped down the threads from the piece she worked on. “Surely you would not leave and travel a long distance in your condition.” She turned her head to look at Brithwin.

  Brithwin sniffed. “What is wrong with my condition? I am in excellent health. Even the dungeon did not make me ill for long.”

  “’Tis not what I imply. I have heard it is not a good time for you to travel.”

  Brithwin jerked the beater down to the weave. “The weather has been fair. I see no reason I could not travel should I wish to.” The woman could exasperate her at times. “I am not leaving, Elspeth. My people are my responsibility. I was only saying—”

  “’Tis not that.” Elspeth leaned closer. A secretive smile played on her lips. “I have heard it could harm the babe.”

  “Whose babe?” Brithwin leaned back and eyed her suspiciously.

  “Why, yours. Are you not with child?”

  “Nay!” Brithwin returned to her weaving, not caring the fabric design rapidly grew uneven. “Why would you ask that?”

  “’Tis been more than a month since your wedding night.” Elspeth snickered.

  “It is not possible for me to be with child, so you need not worry about it.”

  “What do you mean? I saw how late Lord Rosen Craig left your room on your wedding night.” Elspeth stood with folded arms. “And you have been ill.”

  Brithwin’s faced flushed, and she glanced around to see if everyone continued at their work. She leaned near Elspeth’s ear and whispered, “You must trust me on this. I am not with child.”

  “Then why were you sick?”

  “The dungeon has always done that to me. You should know that.”

  The excitement left Elspeth’s face. “Then we should not be expecting a babe?”

  The smile continued to fade from Elspeth’s lips and Brithwin was sorry to see it leave. “Nay, I am afraid not.”

  “Everyone will be so disappointed,” she murmured.

  Brithwin’s brows shot up. “What do you mean everyone?”

  “Well, of course, I don’t mean everyone. ’Twas mostly the kitchen workers and perhaps a knight or two.”

  Brithwin sagged into the nearest chair with a groan and dropped her head in her hands. Why did things like this happen to her? She lifted her head up. “Please see the gossip is stopped. I have enough on my mind without worrying about that, too.”

  At her first chance, Brithwin slipped out and left Elspeth with the weavers. Her chamber would give her solace.

  The quiet of her chamber was a welcome respite as she pulled her knees to her chest and leaned back in the chair. Closing her eyes, she listened to the clamor in the courtyard. Children laughed and called to Thor. The large dog’s great bark sounded like thunder. Imagining them chasing the wolfhound around the bailey, she smiled. Royce was out in the practice field with his men. Swords clanged and men cheered each other on.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the wall. What would Royce say if this gossip reached his ears? He would know she couldn’t be with child. Unless he believed she had been unfaithful. Brithwin quivered at the thought. She did not need any more proble
ms between her and Royce. They had more than their share.

  The wedding night—Elspeth had said she’d seen Royce leave late. Brithwin raised her head and drew in a deep breath. That was what Royce was up to when he took a nap in the chair. He’d saved her from humiliation and kept the gossips from thinking he was displeased with her or worse. Royce had protected her honor, though some might consider a woman’s honor unimportant. He knew it was of great consequence to her how her people viewed her. She had finally determined what kind of a man he was, and again she discovered another layer to him.

  What had she just told Elspeth about men? They were all the same, caring simply about themselves. Then here he does something, upsetting what she believed. Would a man who cared nothing for her save her from humiliation? Pick her flowers? He must care for her in some way. The ice in her veins began to thaw like a sheet of snow sliding off a sunlit roof. No! She needed to stay angry with him. Her heart was safer that way. The man didn’t trust her. It seemed there was no middle ground for her and Lord Rosen Craig—she was either furious with him or falling under his charms.

  Brithwin slipped from the chair and onto her knees.

  “Lord, guide me. I feel myself pulled in different directions. Please help me to remain indifferent to Lord Rosen Craig.” A cool breeze blew in through the uncovered window, and she lifted her head. “Do you hear me, Lord? I cannot bear rejection again. Harden my heart toward him.”

  You ask Me to guide you, but you want your own will. It cannot be both. You must trust I know what is best for you.

  Brithwin dropped her head. The Lord had safely kept her while she waited in the dungeon. Surely, she could trust Him in this.

  The Lord’s words which she had read came to her memory. “Cast all your care upon Him, for He careth for you.” With determination she rose from her knees.

  †††

  Royce leaned against a tree near the practice field, sweat dripping down his back as he gasped for air. His mind drifted from his men. He could not stop thinking about their conversation in those early morning hours—or her claim to innocence. It was time to reconcile with himself. He believed her. Deep within, he had known all along she was not responsible for his family’s deaths.