For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2)

by Charlene Newcomb

  Robert strode up to them. “You had better live to come home. England may need you, but the king and queen have had their share. My mother needs you more.”

  “And you?” Robin asked.

  Robert bowed. “Sir—my lord father.”

  The boy was as unreadable as Marian had been moments earlier. He no longer looked at Robin like someone who he would aspire to be. The hero-worship had disappeared and would be hard won, if Robin ever saw it again in eyes that looked so much like his own.

  The sun was warm, but the icy gloom radiating from Henry’s face left Bea cold. He’d stayed at lead since their departure from Westorby, preferring to be alone rather than in her company or Stephan’s. Or Elle’s, she thought. Not one word had slipped across his tongue the entire morning, but Bea saw a chance to talk when he finally broke their journey, gesturing towards a stream just off the road. Bea waved Elle and Little John to let their horses drink, but Henry did not stop when the others dismounted.

  Bea’s gaze swept the fens. The land stretched endlessly, wide open, green and brown meeting the blue sky. Farms and pastureland dotted the flatland to the south. Muddy marshes to the north teemed with fish and birds and rodents. Waist-high reeds swayed in the breeze.

  “There’s not a soul in sight,” she called after Henry when he reined in further up the road. “Might we please talk now?”

  Exasperated when he didn’t respond, she looked at Stephan. “Edric’s spies would have turned back to Westorby by now.” She raised her voice, hoping to get a rise from her brother. “There’s no need for Henry to pretend he is angry with either of us.”

  Stephan shrugged. He lifted Bea gently from her horse and let Little John lead both animals to the water.

  “Boston is not far ahead,” Stephan said, “and we must play our parts there.” He offered Bea his arm and they walked alongside the road.

  Bea glanced at Elle. The looks Elle exchanged with Little John concerned her. Henry needed to show interest, if not compassion. “It isn’t easy for a young woman to be bartered off like a sack of grain.” She thought of her own marriage. Daughters of barons learned from an early age they’d have little say in the choice of a husband. She shuddered, bracing herself against the remembered fist, blinking at the ghost swelling beneath her eye. But after seeing Edric with Amicia, her marriage did not seem near so awful.

  “Odd, I do not remember my mother speaking of marriage that way, but Elle is strong,” Stephan said.

  “Your mother must have been fortunate, like my own. And Elle likes Henry—I am sure of that. She would be mad not to find him attractive and a solid match.”

  Stephan quietly agreed. His blue eyes were fixed on Henry.

  Bea patted his hand and he turned sharply. “We can be happy for them,” she said.

  Stephan quickly lowered his eyes, his look so forlorn.

  A nagging dread filled Bea’s heart. “What are you thinking?”

  “Let’s get the horses,” he said curtly, leaving Bea to remember that men rarely shared their innermost feelings.

  Stephan started towards Little John and Elle, but Bea held him back. “You must speak with Henry before we get to Boston.” She remembered the expression on Henry’s face when he’d burst into her bedchamber. Surely he didn’t believe anything had happened. “You must tell him about Edric’s threat. When he marries Elle, Edric’s plans will be held in check.”

  She exhaled sharply, thinking of poor Amicia. They’d had no choice but to leave her behind with that repugnant bastard.

  Stephan shifted uncomfortably and she caught his gaze straying in Henry’s direction again. Stephan looked like a broken man. What was there between the two of them?

  She squeezed his hand. “I know the war binds you and Henry. You are as close as brothers. Nothing need change. How fortunate for him to have your friendship and to marry Elle. Look at her. Such a lively thing. What’s not to like about her? Even that defiant spirit. She is a lot like me.” Bea pictured herself at Elle’s age, ignoring her parent’s admonishments to be less outspoken, more ladylike.

  Stephan’s features softened. “Elle likes Little John, and he, her.”

  “That cannot be,” she said sharply. “You must speak with your squire.”

  Stephan turned, his mouth drawn tight. “And break another heart?” He stalked towards the horses.

  “Whose heart?” she called, confused. If he’d heard, he ignored her.

  Elle? Henry? Her brother knew what was expected. Wants and desires had little to do with their lives. Bea cursed beneath her breath. It appeared it would be up to her to tell Henry of Edric’s blackmail.

  She marched up to Henry. “Show your displeasure to Stephan and me, but you might make the effort to speak with Elle.”

  Henry’s hands rested on his saddle, his face unreadable.

  “Aren’t you curious about Stephan’s visit to my bedchamber? You know him better than anyone. Do you really think he would seduce me?” She blew out a breath, exasperated. “Did you notice that we were both fully clothed?”

  “That is only because I came in before anything happened.” Henry’s voice was even, not harsh. He still did not meet her eyes.

  “You cannot believe—”

  Henry started to chuckle.

  “You mean…?” Bea glared at him.

  “I saw Edric snooping.” A genuine look of satisfaction filled Henry’s face. He leaned close and playfully tapped her nose. “Do you think I gave him what he wanted?”

  Bea’s hand flew to her heart. “Thank God in heaven. You played right into his hands. But you don’t know…”

  Henry’s smile vanished. “If this is about me marrying Elle, we both must consent to the match.”

  She wouldn’t argue with him on that point. Not yet. “Stephan and I were talking about that monster that is her brother. He has threatened to blackmail you. We were protecting you. Your reputation. Stephan refuses to say anything, but I cannot imagine what Edric might hold against you.”

  Henry drew back, his brow furrowed. He watched Stephan swing onto Lune’s back.

  “Will you look at me?” Bea slapped his leg. “What is between you and Stephan? I mention Elle, and Stephan grows somber. I know you share a special bond but—”

  “I love him, Bea.”

  “Of course you do,” she said, laying her hand gently on his knee.

  “No, I mean I love him.” Henry’s blue eyes shimmered with passion.

  Bea dragged air into her lungs, her nails digging into his chausses. She studied that gentle face—such an honest and sincere face, and there was what? Joy.

  No, he cannot mean…

  Those looks between them. Why hadn’t she understood? Or had she, and merely denied what she’d seen?

  Tears pricked her eyes. Do not cry. It is not too late for his mortal soul. She crossed herself, and then grabbed Henry’s arm. “I do not want to know what went on between you, but Outremer is thousands of miles from here. God will forgive you for these unnatural desires.” He could confess, do penance. A normal life would be his. A wife. Children. “You don’t need Stephan to see you through the bad dreams. A wife will do that and so much more.”

  “You are wrong, Bea. Mayhap you cannot understand because you never truly loved your husband. You do not know what love is.” He cupped her chin to ensure she could not look away. “I love Stephan and I need him.”

  Bea wrenched away from him, bristling. Henry was right about one thing. She had not known love in her marriage. But this was about his life, not hers. “This may happen between two men, but the war is over. You cannot have a life with Stephan.”

  “This has nothing to do with the war.” His voice was as calm as his untroubled face.

  “You’d never have met him if you’d not answered the king’s call and taken the Cross.”

  “God would not have brought us together if it was not His will.”

  “His will?” she cried, incredulous. What need she say to convince him that the Heavenly Fat
her would never sanction this…this lust between two men. “Saints in heaven. God brought you to comfort each other during the war, nothing more. You needed a place to bury your fears and grief, to find refuge from the blood and horror of the battlefield. It is done now. Put it behind you.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Stephan spoke of broken hearts. I thought he meant Elle and Little John, but he was speaking of himself, and you.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “You are both wrong.” She couldn’t let him do this to himself, she thought, fisting her hands in the fabric of his surcoat to hold on. “Stephan will leave to follow the queen’s orders. He shall be away from here. You can begin to enjoy the company of that lovely young girl. You may even come to love her.”

  Henry rubbed his eyes. “Our mother ‘went away.’ Do you think Father still thinks of her? Does he love her less?”

  “That is different.”

  “No, it is not.” His voice was emphatic. “Elle will never be more than a friend to me.” Bea started to protest against, but he dismissed her with a glare that could cut steel. “Stephan is my lover, Bea. I will not be with another as long as he lives. I could not do that to him. Or to someone like Elle.”

  “You cannot live with him!” she cried.

  “We will find ways to be together.” He spurred his horse towards Stephan.

  Tears streamed down Bea’s cheeks. Stephan was right. She saw nothing but broken hearts, especially if Edric Weston could not be stopped.

  *

  “Little John, you and Elle help Bea,” Stephan said as he watched Henry approach. Henry’s mouth was pinched and a sheen of sweat drenched his forehead. What had Bea said to him?

  Henry didn’t even tip his head to the younger folks as they passed. He drew up beside Stephan. “Why didn’t you tell me of Edric’s threat?” He waved his hand, needing no explanation. “Bea knows. I told her about us.” He looked over his shoulder at her, impatient. “Look at the way she clasps her hands. She is praying to God to forgive me.”

  Sarcasm bled into Henry’s voice, but he was hurting. Had they not been on horseback Stephan would have wrapped his arms around Henry. “You know it is the right thing, but she must detest me for leading you down this path to Hell.”

  “Let her think what she will. You and I both know better.” Henry nudged his horse forward until his leg brushed Stephan’s. He caught his arm, shifted closer, and kissed him. Urgent and rough, with a passion that made Stephan’s heart pound. Henry nearly pulled him from the saddle, and they broke apart breathless.

  “Bea may never forgive me, but I feel the weight of ten armored knights has been lifted from my shoulders.” Henry’s calm was fleeting, his jaw suddenly clenched. “I do not know how we will keep Weston from his plot. He’ll learn quickly enough that I’ve no intention to marry Elle.”

  “Play the part for now. Before Edric realizes that, we will bring him and his cohorts down. He is a traitor and he must pay.” Stephan braced himself, knowing Henry would find his next words distasteful. “But it may be that we must pay for his silence.”

  “With what riches between us?”

  “Not with coin…”

  “Then what?” Henry asked, his eyes widening as he turned the thought over and understood. “No, no…how could we?” He cried out like he’d been kicked by a horse and shook his head vehemently. “Defend the bastard to the king? Lie about his traitorous activities?”

  Stephan nodded. “If it comes to that. Don’t worry for the moment. Talk with Elle.” He tipped his head towards Elle, who looked on them with a compassionate smile. “Honestly, I do not think she will be too heartbroken that you have no interest in marriage.”

  Henry smiled. “I love you.” He kissed Stephan again and pivoted Soleil, urging the animal up the road. Gulls circled overhead, squawking, as he shouted, “Little John, Elle, with me.”

  Stephan followed them leading Bea’s horse. He drew up beside her and handed her the reins. She stared after Henry, but didn’t move.

  “My lady,” he said, “we cannot leave you here.”

  “Why have you done this to my brother?” She dried her tears, but her lower lip quivered. “He was not this way when he left Greyton. He was to marry Alys. He loved her.”

  Stephan bristled. It wasn’t his place to explain Henry’s feelings for Alys. But he needed Bea to understand how he felt. If she was ever to accept it, she’d need to hear it in Stephan’s words, Henry’s words, to see it in their actions. “I never knew love before I met Henry. I never expected to give my heart to anyone, man or woman.”

  Bea scoffed. “Love is a luxury. You and I both know that. Your feelings—this love you think you have? None of that matters.”

  “Take a blade to my heart then. And to his. We love each other and nothing will change the way we feel.”

  “Not even Edric? You may care nothing for your reputation. You are only a hearth knight. But Henry must live here. If he did not care what others thought, he’d have declared his love for you, would he not? And you say you love him? Would you let Edric destroy him?” Bea snapped. “Because that is what will happen.”

  Stephan refused to let her words sting. “It is not so easy as that. You may discover your brother is not so tied to Greyton as you think. Marriage and heirs mean less to him than the love we share.”

  “He loves Greyton.” Her breaths were harsh and short. “This is his home.”

  “Loving a place and its people is one thing. But being alone in that place—being trapped in a marriage because the Church, your father, your king, say you must? What life is that?”

  “It is the life we must lead!” she cried.

  Stephan would not accept that. “Why?”

  Bea had no answer. For Henry’s sake, Stephan hoped she might come to accept their love. Henry would need her as an ally if he broke the news to their father. But when she mounted and spurred her stallion, he knew her support might be a long time coming.

  The skies had clouded over as Henry led the way into Boston. They rode past small cottages of wattle and daub, larger timber buildings, and shops smelling of leather or warm baked goods. Clangs echoed from the smith’s forge as they turned on to the High Street fronting the river. Henry swung down from his horse at the Bluestem Inn and Stephan hurried to help Bea.

  “Don’t touch me,” she said, turning away, her anger real.

  A barrier wider than the river stood between them. Henry wished it was all an act should Edric’s spies be watching, but he knew it was not.

  “Little John,” he said, his voice brusque, “help Bea and bring our packs inside. When that is done, you’ll find the livery just round the corner.” He held his arms out to Elle and she slid gently from the saddle into them. Their eyes met. “You and I must talk.”

  “Yes, Sir…Henry.”

  Henry offered his arm to her and they walked through the inn’s weathered oak door.

  “Two rooms,” he told the innkeeper as the others filed in behind them. He turned to Elle. “The last time I was here, the inn served fine food. Are you hungry?”

  “Eat? I have no stomach for it,” Bea interrupted. Her glower sizzled like lightning from Henry to Stephan. “I am not certain I want to see either of you for the rest of the day.”

  “Good. You can spend your time sulking in your room.”

  The innkeeper studied the travelers with sharp eyes. The round-faced woman might be one to gossip about her customers, gossip that could reach Edric’s ears. And that was good. Even better when she remembered Henry from an earlier stay.

  Little John started upstairs with the packs. Stephan carried his own and Henry’s.

  “One of you will have to bed down at the stables,” Henry said with a frown directed at Stephan.

  Stephan grunted. “I guess that will be me.” He tossed Henry’s pack at Little John and shouldered past Henry out the door.

  Henry’s fists clenched. It was painful to pretend he loathed Stephan. He wished this was beh
ind them, and the king returned. He’d not intended to spend what little time they had left together this way.

  Elle had wandered past the central hearth separating the entryway from a long dining trestle. The room smelled of wood smoke, though no fire warmed it this afternoon. Smaller tables lined the walls and she chose one as far from the door and the nosy innkeeper as possible.

  A chestnut-haired youth who looked near fourteen summers stood by a curtained doorway. He surely had heard the exchange by the door.

  “Two ales and some food,” Henry told the boy as he crossed the room and sat down.

  Within moments, ale, bread, and roasted fish were set out. Henry poked at the food and then set his eating knife down. Ripping off a chunk of bread, he stared towards the door where Stephan had disappeared.

  “Do you love him?” Elle had seen the kiss Henry shared with Stephan on the road. She kept her voice low, but she was blunt and to the point. Henry liked that about her.

  “I do,” he said.

  “Do you think there might come a time when marriage is not a political or business arrangement? It certainly benefitted my brother to marry Amicia.” A smile played at Elle’s lips. “And if you and I were to take bands we’d own near half of Lincolnshire.”

  “You exaggerate, my lady. Surely not more than a third?” It would be much less than that of course, but when Elle laughed, Henry laughed with her. How different she was from Alys. He wished the conversation could stay light, but there was too much at stake. “The land is not important to me. Happiness—yours and mine—that is all I want. I don’t want to hurt you. A marriage between us would be in name only. I could not promise to be faithful when I love Stephan.”

  “How many husbands are faithful to their wives?” She waved off his answer and said, “I imagine very few admit outright that they intend their sinful liaisons to go on after vows are spoken. But wives know these things, don’t they? Queen Eleanor knew of old King Henry’s lovers. She endured. But you and I—our families are determined to see us wed. Even Bea, who knows your feelings for Stephan. She would still insist we marry?”