by Shari Anton
“Fetch the blades.”
Minutes later, Gerard faced Richard in the yard. Sword sang upon sword as Gerard made the first probing strokes. Richard deflected each attack with ease.
Ardith watched from the doorway, standing next to Thomas, her bottom lip between her teeth. Neither brother wore a hauberk or helm, only tunics of thick, rough wool.
“Come, Gerard. Has this soft life left you timid? You fight like a woman,” Richard taunted.
A feral grin spread across Gerard’s face. “Save your breath, brother. You will need it.”
Gerard pressed his assault, and Ardith’s heartbeat sped to the cadence of the clashing swords. Richard defended with lightning reflexes.
“They are well matched,” Thomas said without a hint of concern in his voice.
Ardith nodded. As though encircled by invisible boundaries, Gerard and Richard fought a battle for ground. Each foot given was quickly regained. They sweated, cursed and smiled like fools.
A crowd of peasants and men-at-arms gathered to watch the spectacle. Coins changed hands as wagers were placed. Shouts of encouragement split the air, but neither combatant noticed as they gamboled in a graceful, potentially lethat dance of power, poise and skill.
Richard’s foot slipped slightly, yet he soon recovered and forced Gerard back. Just when Ardith thought she would scream, she first heard, then saw, an excuse to end the madness.
She turned to Thomas. “Can you stop them?”
“Aye, my lady, but they will not be pleased.”
“Pleased or not, they must cease. We have guests.”
Thomas glanced toward the road, then put two fingers in his mouth and blew a piercing whistle. Gerard and Richard halted instantly, both turning startled eyes toward the lad who dared interfere. Thomas pointed toward the road.
Without bothering to look, hearing the approaching horses, Gerard guessed the reason for Thomas’s signal. The expression of pure joy on Ardith’s face confirmed his deduction. Corwin had arrived. Then Ardith ran, heedless of flying skirts and veil, across the yard to greet the brother she adored.
Gerard stifled a reproach. Words born of jealousy soured in his mouth. Ardith loved him. He knew that with his whole heart and soul. But theirs was a bittersweet love, subject to uncertainty, plagued by the possibility of heartbreak.
Would there ever come a time when Ardith’s face would shine for him as it now beamed for Corwin, with no taint of qualm over giving her love? Would there ever come a time when he could sweep Ardith off her feet in joyous greeting, knowing she was his for eternity?
“Stephen looks ready to tear something apart,” Richard said thoughtfully.
Swords handed to Thomas, Gerard and Richard strode over to a dismounting and obviously disgruntled Stephen.
“Ye gods, Gerard. I have so much to tell you I do not know where to begin,” Stephen said.
“Begin with the reason why Corwin limps,” Gerard suggested, watching Corwin lean slightly against Ardith as the twins walked toward the manor.
“In my haste to reach you, I pushed the company too hard last night We should have stopped before dark, but I thought if we pushed on…” Stephen took a long breath. “Corwin’s horse stumbled in a rut and threw him. The horse is fine but Corwin landed on a sharp rock. His leg is badly bruised but he is otherwise all right. After the mishap, we camped until daylight.”
“Where are your soldiers?”
“They should be here shortly. Corwin and I came ahead,” Stephen explained. “I bring bad news, Gerard. Basil of Northbryre and Edward Siefeld have escaped from the Tower.”
Rage and shock slammed into Gerard like a well-aimed fist to his gut. “When?”
“Several days ago. ‘Tis generally believed the pair have already boarded a ship, bound for Normandy.”
Vexation surged through Gerard. He’d allowed King Henry the privilege of punishing Basil and Siefeld. The king had given other matters precedence, allowing the pair to escape.
King Henry’s court system and social justice be damned! Wilmont would seek its own justice, at the point of a sword.
“Gerard,” Richard said in a calming voice. “Let us go into the manor. We can discuss plans over a goblet of ale.”
Inside, trying to be careful of Corwin’s stiffly held sore leg, Ardith helped her brother sit down on the bench.
“Felt it, did you?” Corwin asked.
“Like an arrow shot. I nearly fell.” She touched her brother’s thigh and sighed. “At least you did not break anything this time.”
Corwin’s fingers gently grazed her cheek. “And you, you are well, content. I can sense it.”
Slightly embarrassed by Corwin’s observation, Ardith quickly altered the course of the conversation. “Really, Corwin, how could you fall off a horse?” she scolded.
Corwin shrugged. “’Twas dark. The horse lost its footing and I lost my seat.”
“And no wonder. ’Twas foolish to be riding about in the dead of night.”
“Stephen’s idea, though why he was in such a hurry to enrage Gerard, I fail to understand. Gerard should be roaring in here any moment.”
“What has happened?”
“Basil of Northbryre and his mercenary captain, Edward Siefeld, have escaped from the Tower.” To Ardith’s gasp, Corwin nodded, then added, “But there is also trouble at Wilmont. Lady Ursula is—”
Gerard burst into the manor, followed by Richard and Stephen. Gerard dipped a goblet into the ale keg, quaffed the potent liquid in several deep swallows, then dipped the goblet again. He spared a greeting nod for Corwin before flopping down onto the bench, banging the goblet on the table.
“I will have the whoreson’s head,” Gerard vowed.
“Whose?” Richard asked. “Basil’s? Siefeld’s? Henry’s?”
“Basil’s first,” Gerard snarled, then directed a glare at Stephen. “Well?”
“’Tis little consolation, I know, but Henry sends an apology and his vow to recapture Basil and Siefeld. He sent his own guard to track them down.”
“I thought you said Basil had boarded ship?”
“So Henry believes. ’Twould be insane for Basil to remain in England when he could flee to his lands in Normandy.”
“But Henry is not sure.”
“That is why he ordered his guard to search the kingdom.”
“Hellfire. The knave could be anywhere.”
No one disagreed.
After a long silence, Gerard looked hard at Stephen. “The Conqueror’s Tower is an impenetrable fortress, and impossible to escape from without help. Who would dare aid Basil?”
“’Tis believed Lady Diane furnished the swords to ease the escape.”
Blond, beautiful, treacherous Diane de Varley had aided Wilmont’s most dangerous enemy. Gerard vividly recalled rejecting Diane, her embarrassed anger and parting vow to avenge the insult. His hands tightened on the goblet, wishing the stem was Diane’s lily-white neck.
“She is dead, Gerard,” Stephen went on. “As reward for her help, Basil or Siefeld killed her, as well as two guards. Henry is livid. She may have aided a prisoner, but Diane was his ward, under royal protection. Henry wants Basil’s head on a pike.”
“He will have it, on my pike!”
In the ensuing silence, Gerard noticed Stephen run a hand through his raven-black hair, a nervous habit of Stephen’s since childhood.
“There is more. Out with it, Stephen.”
Stephen leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the trestle table. “After inspecting the Northbryre holdings, I stopped at Wilmont. I wanted to make sure that what I had seen of the holdings matched the charters and grants we sent to Walter from Westminster. But for minor details, all seems in order.” He glanced at Richard. “Some of our holdings need work.”
“But…?” Gerard encouraged, knowing further bad news lurked within his brother’s tale.
“Mother intends to banish every bastard and whore from Wilmont lands.”
Gerard closed his eyes, took a
deep breath.
“I tried to reason with her, Gerard,” Stephen added. “I’m not sure if I convinced her to desist. I decided, with Walter’s concurrence, that only direct intervention from you could stop her. Corwin and I set out at once. We stopped to overnight in London. That’s when I learned of Basil’s escape.”
Gerard’s hands hit the table. He rose from the bench, shouting orders. “We leave in the morning for Wilmont. Stephen, ready an escort, Richard, get a wagon loaded with supplies. Ardith, pack whatever you and Daymon will require for the journey.”
Ardith remained seated, her hands clasped in her lap, as everyone else in the manor jumped to do Gerard’s bidding.
“You are not moving, Ardith,” Gerard observed, a note of wariness in his tone.
Ardith marveled at his control. She’d expected him to bark a lecture on immediate obedience.
“I beg an indulgence, Gerard.”
He swung a leg over the bench, straddling the rough seat to face her. He leaned close, whispered gruffly, “The only time you beg me for anything is in bed, when you wrap your legs around my thighs and cry out my name. Ah, look how you blush. Now, what silly notion has entered your head?”
She knew she had but one chance to sway Gerard. Ardith didn’t want to go along. Though the weather had warmed with the promise of spring, too often cold blasts still sent man and beast scurrying for warm fires. The journey, at best, would be long and arduous. Nor did she wish to confront Lady Ursula, which would surely happen if Ardith went to Wilmont.
She mustered her arguments, hoped they sounded convincing. “You intend to return here after you deal with the situation at Wilmont.”
His eyes narrowed. “Have you developed the ability to read my .mind?”
“No. Your intent was rather clear. You ordered Stephen to choose an escort, which means you will leave most of your soldiers here. Richard is to gather a wagonload of supplies, again indicating a small party of travelers Too, you have not yet named a steward for this manor, which you would do if you intended to remain at Wilmont. There are building projects you want to see completed, and trade contracts for fleece you will want to approve, before turning over affairs to a steward.”
“I thought you no longer harbored notions of becoming steward here.”
“You misunderstand. I do not seek the stewardship. But since you intend to return, I merely think it wise for Daymon and me to remain here.” Ardith put a hand up, halting his objection. “Though Richard rightfully ignored the snow and cold to bring Daymon here, to escape your mother’s rancor, the boy should not have to suffer the journey again.”
Gerard’s expression softened. He grasped her hand, raised it to his lips. “And you would stay here to care for my son. If I took only Stephen and Richard,” he thought aloud, “we could travel swiftly. I could be back within a week, mayhap a bit longer if Mother proves stubborn. But I worry for your safety. With Basil on the loose…”
“Basil is running for his life. And did not Stephen say ‘tis believed the man has already boarded ship? With Corwin here, and your men-at-arms, surely I will be safe.”
“I would prefer having you close at hand.”
“As I would prefer you not have to leave. But you must”
“Will you miss me?”
“With all my heart. Will you miss me?”
He leaned forward. As always, his kiss set Ardith reeling. “Already my mind rebels, my body feels the anguish. Why is it, woman, that I sometimes let you alter my plans?”
“Because, my love, even in your worst temper, you will usually listen to reason.”
“Only from you.”
Ardith smiled slightly. “I doubt that. I would wager you would hear an argument from Stephen or Richard, or someone else who holds your affection or esteem. You are just unaccustomed to being questioned by a mere woman.”
“You could be right The only other woman who dares is my mother, and I never let her win.”
Ardith put her hand on his sleeve, asked haltingly, “May I ask one more favor?”
“What, then?”
“When you decide a punishment for Lady Ursula, try to be gentle. I know she has made life miserable for some of Wilmont’s people, but please, think hard before you do something you will regret later, something that will haunt you.”
He didn’t answer, merely brought her palm to his lips before he left the manor to amend his orders.
A few days later, Ardith watched Meg feed little Gerard. There had been times seeing the two of them had pained her forcefully. Now, however, having set her mind on a course of action, Ardith merely enjoyed the sight.
“Meg, when you had problems giving birth, you told me about Sister Bernadette, from the abbey in Romsey. You said she had knowledge of the workings of a woman’s body.”
“’Tis said she is unrivaled as a midwife, has saved more than her share of babes and their mothers. How much of the tale is true?” Meg shrugged. “I only know what I hear.”
“They say every tale has at least a sliver of truth stuck into it, somewhere.”
“What tale?” Corwin asked, coming up behind them.
“We need to talk, brother mine.”
“I do not like that tone, Ardith.”
Ardith grabbed Corwin’s sleeve and pulled him out of the manor, toward the stables.
“Corwin, do you love me? Do you want me to be happy?”
“Now I know I am in trouble.”
“Not necessarily. Not if we can get to Romsey and back before Gerard returns from Wilmont.”
Corwin tossed up his hands. “Sweet Jesu, Ardith! Romsey? Gerard would flay me alive! Do you know what he told me before he left? He was not pleased about leaving you and Daymon here, at all. He is not certain Basil and Siefeld have left the country. He said, and I repeat his words exactly, ‘You will protect Ardith and Daymon with your life. Should any harm come to either, if they so much as suffer a bruise, I will hold you entirely responsible.’ Now, I ask you, dear sister, what would he do to me if he found out I took you to Romsey? Why the devil would you want to go to Romsey, anyway?”
Ardith turned a deaf ear to Corwin’s ranting, mulling over the distance to Romsey and the time required to make the journey. If they left early tomorrow morning, they could be back by late the day after, well before Gerard returned.
“I want to speak with Sister Bernadette at the abbey in Romsey,” she finally answered.
“If you want so badly to meet this nun, I will send an escort to fetch her.”
“This is best done at the abbey.”
“What? Ardith, you are not making sense!”
Ardith looked into Corwin’s azure eyes. The confusion marring those deep pools brought on a smile. “I sometimes forget we cannot read each other’s minds. Forgive me, Corwin. Please sit, and I will explain.”
Corwin ignored her gesture toward a crate. He stood, legs spread, arms crossed. “I am not taking you to Romsey.”
Ardith sat on the crate. Corwin must have learned this stubbornness from Gerard.
“Meg told me of Sister Bernadette, said the nun knew more of the female body than any other in all of England. I must speak with her, and ‘tis best done at the abbey. There is no privacy here, and for the questions I need to ask, I must have privacy.”
“What questions?”
Relieved that she’d at least roused Corwin’s curiosity, she continued, “About me. About the state of my womb. Corwin, I need to know if I can conceive. If anyone can tell me, I suspect ‘twill be Sister Bernadette.”
Corwin looked away, his arms relaxed slightly. “You still have several months with Gerard, as his betrothed. Surely, your ability to bear children will prove out.”
“Mayhap. But things have changed since Henry declared the betrothal. One of the reasons Gerard agreed to the decree was the threat of forced marriage to Lady Diane. With her death, so too died the bride the king intended for Gerard. Her death has freed Gerard to choose his own wife. If I cannot be his wife, then he shoul
d be looking for another, someone who will love him, care for Daymon as her own.”
“You want him to look for another?”
Fingers entwined, hands squeezed tightly together on her lap, Ardith said hoarsely, “Of course not. Oh, Corwin, I love him so much. I want to be his wife. But he wastes time with me better spent choosing another woman before the king interferes again.”
“Not even you are this unselfish.”
“Nay. I think of myself, too. I want to know, Corwin. I need to know if there is any hope that I can marry Gerard, bear his children. Each time I have my monthly, Gerard looks at me differently. I see disappointment in his eyes, hear just the slightest reproach in his voice. I fear he will grow bitter, come to hate me for letting him down. I do not think I could bear his hatred, Corwin.”
“He could never hate you.”
“Never is a long time. He loves me now, but by year end, if he feels betrayed, who can say?”
Corwin put his hands on his hips, kicked at a piece of hay. “If I took you to Romsey—” he wagged a warning finger “—mind you, I said if—what about Daymon?”
“Meg would look after him during the day and at night he could sleep in the armory. The soldiers would not object, and Daymon would think it a grand adventure.”
“You ask a lot of me, Ardith.”
Ardith stood and crossed her arms. “I only ask you to help end that which you started.”
“Me?”
“Who was it that pleaded with Gerard to save me from Father’s wrath? Who told Gerard he thought Elva wrong about my condition? If you had kept your peace, I would now be back at Lenvil, Gerard would be married to Diane, Basil would still be imprisoned—”
“All right! Enough. So maybe I deserve some blame, but not all. Had you said no to the betrothal, I would not be standing here listening to this insane proposal.”
Ardith knew Corwin had softened to the point of giving in. He needed but a final push. “If you do not have the courage to take me to Romsey, then stay here. I will go alone.”
Corwin shook his head, moaned low in his throat. “You know I cannot allow you to ride off on your own!”
Knowing full well she’d placed Corwin in an unfair position, because Gerard would learn of her journey, Ardith put a hand on Corwin’s arm. “Then come with me, Corwin. Please. If only to keep me from getting lost when I reach Romsey.”