For King and Country (Battle Scars Book 2)

by Charlene Newcomb

  “I’d thought to fill this place with children’s laughter.”

  Stephan turned abruptly to the voice. Gil stood at the door of the solar, his face shadowed and unreadable.

  “God has not sought to bless me.” Gil’s voice cracked. Despondent or angry, Stephan couldn’t tell. Gil took a step back and the light revealed a face drawn with deep lines, aged beyond his thirty years. He gestured Stephan to follow. His step was lively, his body fit, just as Stephan remembered. Sitting in a high backed chair near the window he raised his arm, the azure blue silk of his wide sleeve billowing as he snapped his fingers. A young servant filled two goblets with wine and then hurried from the solar without a word.

  Stephan approached his brother and tipped his head. Sweat tickled his neck. He was glad the windows were thrown open to the breeze.

  Gil retrieved one of the goblets and held it out to him. “Drink. Sit.” He waved Stephan to the other chair.

  Stephan met his brother’s grey eyes. He noticed how pale Gil looked. “I wish you’d written of your loss. I am sorry. I remember Mylla.” It had been around the time of his seventeenth birthday, just before he’d joined Richard’s mesnie. His special day had been forgotten when Gil’s wedding turned l’Aigle upside down.

  Gil looked at him for a long time. “Is that so? I do recall you attended my wedding.” His face reddened, his voice black. He swallowed his wine and poured another. “I am surprised you saw anything other than the tanner’s son falling into your bed. Christ! Thank God Father did not know and Geoff was away at Southwell.”

  Stephan stood abruptly. Heat crept up his neck. Gil’s words forced him to conclude that the idea of bringing Bea to l’Aigle was a waste of time. “Why did I think we might have a civil conversation? It was wrong of me to believe I might seek a favor of you.”

  “Sit down!” Gil’s hand shook. He strained to keep the wine from sloshing over the rim of his goblet and carefully set it down. “God’s bones, Stephan.”

  Stephan’s eyes narrowed. “You lord over me just as you always did, but you are not my liege lord.”

  “Will you shut up for one blink of an eye?” Gil rose and paced to the hearth, his footsteps loud and urgent against the stone floor. He gripped the mantle and turned, his face suddenly relaxed. The change was so profound Stephan imagined he was in the room with a stranger. “Forgive me,” Gil said. “I promised myself I wouldn’t bring up old wounds. You’d think at this age, I’d no longer be jealous of my golden younger brother.”

  Stephan froze. He stared at Gil. “What?”

  “Father always doted on you. I had to be better—at riding, at bow, at Latin—everything. But I never was.”

  “You beat me at chess.”

  Gil chuckled. “So I did. But even the village girls liked you better. I was plain and short with dull brown hair. And you were strong, handsome—even before you left for Huntingdon.”

  Christ…why hadn’t I seen this? “Why would you feel that way when you stood to inherit l’Aigle?”

  “When friends point out your weaknesses and compare you to a little brother? Remind you that old King Henry carved his kingdom up for his sons?” He glanced towards the window where sounds of men and horses drifted in from the bailey. “It crossed my mind more than once that Father might do the same to l’Aigle.”

  “He’d made his wishes clear, and I never expected otherwise. Not once did I hear him compare the two of us. Mayhap he was harder on you because he knew the responsibilities you would have. As for your friends? I have found that those who put others down often lack skills and confidence themselves.”

  Gil studied Stephan as if seeing him for the first time. “Mylla said the same thing. She was more forgiving than me and not quick to rush judgement.” Taking his seat again, he urged Stephan to do the same. “You arrive at my gate with a fine lady and I thought you had done well with a marriage.” Stephan braced himself for comments on his unnatural desires, but Gil continued to surprise him. “But I understand Lady Beatrice told Toly she is merely a friend and you ask for help on her behalf.”

  “You know of Cartholme, near Lincoln?”

  “She’s of that family? I have been there, though I do not remember seeing the lady. I purchased my best stallions from their stables. No wonder you came in on such fine animals.”

  Stephan saw no need to explain that he’d had Lune long before he’d met Bea. He’d forgotten Gil’s interest in horse breeding. He and Bea would have much to speak of. “The Lady Bea’s late husband was baron of Cartholme.”

  “She was married to that grizzled sour-faced noble? She must be made of strong stuff.”

  Stephan cocked his brow. Another mark against the baron? He held his curiosity. “She is the daughter of Edward de Grey.”

  Gil shook his head, unfamiliar with the name.

  “He has lands in Greyton, south of Lincoln.”

  “And you met the lady through…?”

  “Her brother, a crusader knight.” Stephan spoke of the Holy Land, about the king and politics, and their concern after the fire at Cartholme. His voice rippled with passion each time he mentioned Henry.

  Gil watched him while he spoke, his face hard to read. Gil didn’t have to like it; he’d not have to put up with him for long.

  “You care for him deeply,” Gil said softly.

  Stephan waited for the curses to follow. Shocked when they did not, he couldn’t speak.

  “Of course I will help the Lady Bea.”

  Gil had no sooner spoken when the door opened and a servant announced Bea and Elle. Little John stood behind them.

  Gil strode across the room, his face lit. “Welcome, my lady. If I might be so bold, you are more lovely than I imagined when I saw you at the gate.”

  Bea held her hand out, blushing. Stephan watched her. Radiant was the only word he could think to describe the way sunlight picked up a hint of ginger in her dark hair and reflected in sapphires decorating her deep blue gown. He was certain he detected a hint of rose oil as he drew up next to his brother.

  Gil brought Bea’s hand to his lips. He met her eyes, and then turned to Elle. Bea completed the introductions.

  “Such a long journey from Cartholme,” Gil said. “I pray my servants have provided for you?”

  “More than I would ask, thank you, my lord. And your brother has been most kind to me and Lady Elle.” The color in Bea’s cheeks rose. “We owe Stephan and Little John our lives.”

  Gil clapped Stephan’s back and then offered Bea his arm to lead them to the hall. The trestle had been laid out with pork, venison, and chicken steaming in thick juices. Servants appeared from the kitchen carrying baskets overflowing with herb-scented breads, dried fruits, and cheeses. It was as fine a feast as Stephan had seen at Queen Eleanor’s table at Winchester.

  As Gil took his seat at the head of the table and next to Bea, Little John’s stomach growled. Elle stifled a giggle. Even Bea smiled.

  Stephan encouraged Little John to sit, knowing Gil’s own knights never would have invited their men to the lord’s table. When Gil did not object, Stephan wondered if he knew his brother at all.

  Gil questioned Bea on every detail of life and business at Cartholme. He was impressed with her oversight of the estate. They spoke passionately of horses and he admired Elle’s knowledge on stallions and breeding. Little John’s descriptions of life at the palace in Acre enthralled him. He suggested Stephan might want to inspect the armory and join the knights out in the tiltyard.

  “Might I watch?” Elle chimed in, her eyes large and round.

  “Of course,” Gil tipped his head at Bea, “should your lady approve.”

  Stephan imagined Elle would rather try her own hand at the quintain. He caught Bea’s face alight and smiled. She had ridden with lance in hand, smacked a shield or a sack stuffed with sand. He could picture her on the practice field with Henry.

  Suave, hugely at ease in any conversation, Gil was pleasant, even to Stephan. It struck Stephan that his brother was fin
ally comfortable and secure in his place as Lord of l’Aigle. The secret fears plaguing him during his youth proved unfounded and could be put to rest.

  As the evening wore on, Stephan watched Gil’s interaction with Bea. There was an obvious attraction between the two of them. What would Henry be thinking were he here?

  Distracted by that thought and wanting to be alone, Stephan rose to leave. Little John also stood, but Stephan shook his head. “I’ll see to myself. Enjoy the evening. Go to the tower. The stars and moon are brilliant on a night like this.”

  Gil agreed. “It was Maman’s favorite place on warm summer nights.” He turned to Stephan. “We shall talk more in the morning of your plans, brother, and how I might help.”

  Elle cleared her throat. “Might I go with John?”

  Bea frowned until she met Elle’s hopeful eyes. She flitted her fingers at the girl. Elle drew herself up and, with Little John at a respectful distance, walked from the room gracefully like a queen.

  Bea still looked doubtful that she’d made the right decision. “Should you…?”

  “Don’t worry of Little John.” Stephan smiled at the sound of boots racing up the stone stairwell. “You’ll never meet a more chivalrous man.”

  “Like you?” she asked sincerely.

  “He is my squire after all. Besides, I want to see Edric Weston’s face when he finds out his little sister has fallen in love with a penniless squire who is loyal to King Richard.” Stephan saw curiosity etched on Gil’s face. “I shall let you tell that story to my brother.”

  Bea sighed. “Love. Some are lucky to find it.”

  Stephan met Bea’s eyes. He took her hand, lightly squeezed it. “And our lives are forever changed. Goodnight, my lady.”

  Stephan climbed the stairwell, his thoughts on Henry. In his bedchamber, he collapsed on the oversize bed and reached for his lover. He twisted the silver band on his finger, and then curled up, drawing the pillow to his chest.

  *

  “Will I see you again?”

  “I hope so.” Little John paused, feeling too shy to meet Elle’s gaze. He caught the scent of roses from her skin. “If that would please you.”

  Elle rested her hand on his. “It would.”

  Little John felt his heartbeat rise. He tried to concentrate on the stars and the moon. “Lord l'Aigle was right about the nighttime sky here. But it is not as brilliant as from a ship on the sea.”

  “Why is that?”

  “There are too many torches glowing in the bailey.”

  Elle leaned out over the merlon and stared at the ground. “It’s quite far down.”

  Little John laid a hand on her arm. “Careful, my lady.” When she turned, her face was framed by strands of golden hair and lit by the moon. Her eyes sparkled like jewels. Little John’s heart was thundering. “I may have been too quick to say this view was not so brilliant.”

  Elle cradled his face, her warm breath brushing his cheeks. His lips found hers. It was a tender kiss, but one with a fire that could light the heavens.

  It was barely light when Stephan stepped briskly down the circular stairwell. His spurs clinked against the stone, but he could hear the sound of David’s laughter coming from the solar. He rounded the corner and stopped short at the doorway. “What do we have here?”

  Gil looked up. Little David bobbed in Gil’s lap, cheeks jiggling, hands clapping, with the joy-filled look of a happy baby. “I think he likes me.”

  Stephan did not see Bea. “How…?”

  “I heard him complaining. His poor nurse paced the floor to soothe him, but he’d not be content. I didn’t want the child to wake his mother so early, so I rescued the nurse. Brought the babe down here. We’ve had a splendid time.” Gil kissed David’s forehead. The little one answered with a sweet gurgle.

  “You shall spoil him. Bea won’t forgive you for that.”

  “Ha! I shall find a way to make it up to her.”

  “I bet you will,” Stephan said, wandering to the sideboard. He began to fill one of the silver trenchers there with luscious-smelling strawberries, cheese and crusty bread and suddenly remembered how natural it seemed when Henry had held David in his arms. Stephan pressed his eyes closed. Henry would never have that… Am I being selfish?

  Gil was laughing. Stephan glanced over his shoulder. Fatherhood looked good on his brother. Oh Christ, Henry…will our love be enough for you? Was Henry being honest with himself?

  David squealed, interrupting Stephan’s thoughts.

  “I like her, Stephan. She is the first bright spot in my life in months.”

  Stephan poured himself some mead. “I saw the way you looked at her.” He paused and sipped at the brew. “I know that feeling.”

  “Henry?” Gil asked.

  Stephan swallowed hard. “I love him beyond reason.” He fingered the eagle on the silver goblet. Closing his eyes, he remembered when Henry admitted he’d denied his heart for too long. The day he finally gave Stephan his love.

  Gil stopped bouncing David. “What will you do?” he asked quietly.

  David heard the change in Gil’s voice. His mouth became rosebud tight, eyes darting between the two men.

  Stephan drove away his doubts. “Be with him when I can.” He bit into one the berries. Blood-red juice spilled down his chin. He swiped it away, staring at the trail that remained on the back of his hand. It was like a scar, an omen of things to come. They’d spoken briefly of Count John during dinner, but no one wanted to spoil the evening with talk of civil war. Now he needed to know where Gil stood. With Richard? Or with John? He decided to get straight to the matter. “These conspiracies against the king must be dealt with.”

  Rising from the window seat, Gil settled David on his hip. “John has many friends in York. Like those in Nottingham and Tickhill, they support his right to Richard’s throne.”

  “Yet there’s not been open rebellion here.” Stephan watched Gil, considered what information his brother might share. He’d be well acquainted with the sheriff of York as their father had been. “What might you tell me of Hugh Bardolf? I’ve a message for him.”

  “For the sheriff? That could be difficult.” When Stephan frowned, Gil added, “He’s John’s vassal, you know? He refused to send men to support the siege at Tickhill. Rumors have it that the queen’s justiciars are calling to remove him from office. Why must you see him?”

  Stephan shook his head. That wasn’t a detail he could share. Gil nodded shrewdly. He lowered David onto the window embrasure where he happily bounced on unsteady legs. “In the Holy Land,” Gil said as the chapel bell pealed Lauds and the bailey showed signs of life, “your enemies were easily recognizable. Here?” He glanced back at Stephan.

  Stephan met his brother’s eyes. “Do you support John?”

  Gil pressed his lips together. “I will when he becomes king. Now? I pay my taxes and pray to God that I am not asked to do more. I sent knights to fight the king’s enemies across the Narrow Sea. My men fought at Tickhill before this truce. And I don’t think I’ll regret that l’Aigle is well provisioned for a siege if John’s supporters bring one here.”

  “I am glad for that. I would hate to think I might stand against your mesnie.” Stephan finished the last of his drink and stretched. “Thank you for watching over Bea and Elle. I must wake Little John so we might be on our way.”

  “Can you tell me—will you return to Greyton? I should pen a letter to Lord de Grey before you leave.”

  “What’s this?” Bea stood in the doorway, but how long she’d been there neither man knew.

  David squirmed and smiled.

  “The brothers l’Aigle appear to have a way with my son. Good morning, my lord,” Bea said with a curtsy to Gil. “Stephan.” She gave Stephan an odd look, and it took him a moment to realize she was looking at his ragged surcoat and hose smudged with dirt. He didn’t look like a knight, had even changed out his finely-tooled leather belt for a well-worn cracked one.

  Gil met Bea halfway across the sola
r. “I hope you slept well, my lady?”

  She took David into her arms. “I did, my lord.”

  “Gil,” he insisted.

  “Gil.” She nodded and smiled. “I should also send word to my father.”

  Stephan bowed. “I plan to leave within the hour. It’s two days to Greyton if we ride hard.”

  “Please sit, Bea,” Gil said. “I’ll find a quill and parchment.”

  When Gil left the room, Stephan said, “My brother is quite enamored of you.”

  Bea blushed. She tapped the arm of the chair next to hers and bade him to sit. “I like him. He’s not at all like you described.”

  Stephan chuckled. “No, he is not. People change. Like me. Like Henry.”

  She was watching him, desperately trying to come to grips with the idea that two men could be in love. David twisted in her arms and reached for the basket of bread. Stephan pulled it away, but tore off a small chunk for him. He greedily stuffed into his mouth.

  Bea remained silent, still focused on Stephan. Her face softened. “Did you know from the start…that you and Henry…”

  “What I felt was different from anything I’d known with any other man.”

  Bea’s hands trembled. Did she know that feeling? Would she still argue that love between two men was wrong?

  “It was love,” he added, “though it took a long time for either of us to admit it.” The mere act of thinking of Henry made his insides burn. She’d not want to know that, but he had to say something. What might convince her? He rested his hand atop hers, found her eyes that were so like Henry’s. “I remember the affection my parents shared. I always imagined that was true love. I never thought I’d feel that way.” Bea stilled beneath his touch. “The way your parents loved each other.”

  Bea stood, her hands slipping from Stephan’s. His heart sank. He wanted her to accept his love for Henry for Henry’s sake. He thought she was going to walk away. But she surprised him, planting a kiss on his cheek.