The Blue Falcon

by Robyn Carr

  “No need?” she laughed. “Conan, Chandra is a young lass who should be home with her father, making plans for her own wedding. Though I’m sure she is a capable maid, it is unfair to chain her to Edwina’s sickbed when she should be home visiting many attractive suitors.”

  Conan stiffened slightly at the thought. He had not heard of suitors. “She was glad to be called,” he said.

  “Of course, Conan. She is a good lass and would no doubt care for Edwina all her life, but we must think of Chandra. I know you wish her well and would not have her slave her years away caring for her sister. Now I am here and she can return to her father.”

  That said, in a manner that greatly resembled Chandra’s, Udele brushed past Conan and was into action. Udele was no stranger to work and took charge of the keep. She had a room made for herself and one for Edythe and her women, putting some of the castle folk out of their beds.

  She went next to Edwina, finding Chandra near, and, with her most sympathetic smile, relieved Chandra of her chore. But Udele had no intention of personally guarding Edwina’s recovery as Chandra had. Instead she installed her own nurse to see to Edwina’s many needs.

  In just a few hours Chandra felt many changes. She felt like a participant in one of her own dreams. Nothing seemed particularly real. The evening meal found Udele, gowned exquisitely, sitting at the right hand of her son and presiding over the crowded hall. Chandra rather sheepishly took a chair quite far from Conan, near Edythe. And Udele’s manner seemed unusually gay for the premise of her journey: to care for her daughter by marriage after the loss of her child.

  Chandra was not ignored by the great lady. Rather, Udele made quite a show of thanking her over and over again for her labors and praising her efficiency. “You have been detained long enough and I can see to Edwina now.”

  When Chandra went to Edwina’s chamber after the eve­ning meal, she found she had been thoroughly removed and her belongings were put in a small, inferior chamber with Edythe’s things. The maids Chandra had brought were cast from their closets to make room for Udele’s servants. They were at odds as to what to do and in their confusion had placed their things with Chandra’s. Now they stood, four of them, in a room that could never accommodate them. Chandra sent her women on an insignificant errand, and when they were gone she turned to Edythe in a quandary.

  “Edythe, what am I to make of this?”

  Edythe shrugged in embarrassed apology. “My mother is accustomed to having things her way.”

  “I do not think she hates me, yet I am being cast from my sister’s side, now that she is nearly recovered and there is little left to be done. I know that Conan sent word to his parents when the child was lost, yet I have been here for ten days and she has not come. If it is aid she wishes to give, why was she so long in coming?”

  Edythe shook her head. “She saw no need when the message arrived with the sad news of the child. The second message prompted our journey here.”

  “The second message?” Chandra asked.

  “Conan sent word that you had arrived and were taking good care of Edwina. He reported that she was doing well and there was no longer any reason to fear for her.”

  “Then it is so?” Chandra half questioned. “She thinks it unfair that I am heavily tasked with my sister’s illness?”

  “Part of the reason perhaps,” Edythe offered.

  Chandra stared at the younger girl in confusion.

  “I see the way my brother looks at you,” Edythe said gently. “Perhaps my mother has seen this also.”

  Chandra felt the flush creep to her cheeks. “But she cannot fear that he would dishonor me!” she argued. “He is a good man and he is devoted to Edwina.”

  “I do not think that is her fear,” Edythe said. “But I think it possible she fears you would be a greater influence on him. She has allowed no other that position, not even Father. She guards Conan’s decisions closely, when he will allow her.”

  “How can I influence him? How can I claim to be his friend and counsel? I am young and unmarried and of little experi­ence.”

  “If what I see in his eyes is true, he would listen to you. And what we have found in this hall does not speak of a lass of little experience. You manage as well as my mother ever has.”

  Chandra held her gaze. “If I have worked hard and done well, why is it still impossible to please her?”

  Edythe laughed softly. “Madam has no friends, Chandra, nor has she ever. I have seen her treat women of a higher station with care, but when they are gone she speaks unkindly of them. Madam holds herself above all women, and those who are her match she treats scornfully. I think perhaps she fears you.”

  “That cannot be so. There is nothing I can do to cause Udele to fear.”

  “You can give my brother your love. You can make him promises and urge him to give up all that he has acquired and take you for his own.”

  “And would I do such a thing?” Chandra asked in disbe­lief. “Can anyone imagine that I could shame my family, tear my sister’s love from her arms, and beg Conan to dishonor himself and shame his family? Edythe, if I loved him, would I do that to him?”

  Edythe only shrugged by way of an answer, for she knew very well the desperation of love. “My mother envies youth and beauty and strength. Beware of her, Chandra. She will never let you near to what is hers.”

  Chandra thought heavily, straining to recall every detail of her few brief encounters with Udele. She had admired the great lady from afar, Udele’s many strengths drawing Chan­dra’s attention and actually giving the young maid something to pattern herself after. Chandra had many times hoped she would be as Udele was: strong, capable, beautiful. She had never thought herself even near having those qualities. Even now, though what Edythe said was true and Udele seemed to scorn her and push her well out of Conan’s sight, she could not fathom the reasons. Chandra could do Conan no harm.

  “What will you do?” Edythe asked.

  “I will take myself home. And I will not come to my sister’s aid again. This is not my place.”

  The sun set and was replaced by a bright moon, a sphere of ivory that escaped the drifting clouds to shine brightly upon the earth, giving moments of light to the darkness. Chandra asked many squires and attendants the whereabouts of Sir Conan and was finally directed to the stable. A lantern provided his light as he brushed down Orion, speaking softly to the beast as he tended him. Mars was on his nearby perch and was often the recipient of some comment or a light stroke of his feathers.

  At the far end of the stable two squires sat polishing Conan’s armor and hammering out the dents. She watched in distracted interest, wondering what fight upon the road had earned those marks. The thought of him meeting an enemy and raising his sword in defense gave her a feeling of excitement and discomfort at once.

  When she looked back to where he was working, his eyes were on her. She felt her stomach jump as it always did when he looked at her. His eyes held a warm glow, something she had not seen in a very long time. They had encountered each other only a few times since he took Edwina to wife, and in those meetings his eyes had been pained, reflecting the struggle between his honor and his desire. He did not frown at her now, but with careful slowness, he measured her form with his eyes from her toes to her brow. She shuddered with the cold, only now aware that she had no mantle to warm her against the chilly night. In her eagerness to have the matter behind her, she had come quickly to the stable.

  Conan called the squires by name and they looked up to see Chandra standing just inside the door. He sent them from their chores and closed the door behind them. He was sure in his action and different somehow. He seemed older and, if possible, more determined.

  “You should not close the door, Sir Conan,” she said. “There could be too much curiosity in our privacy.”

  “There is curiosity in our every meeting. Don’t you know what echoes through my halls? Idle hands have quick eyes. They say I am in love with my poor wife’s sister.”
r />   Chandra felt a boulder drop into the pit of her stomach. She was a fool to think even her most private feelings secret.

  They were suspect and they had done nothing. “Now that my lady Udele is come, I shall leave. I have little to prepare. I can be upon the road as quickly as your men can travel.”

  “You do not have to go,” he said huskily. “If you choose to stay I will arrange it. It is only fair that you be allowed to see your sister’s complete recovery, if that is your desire.”

  “It is best that I go,” she said, looking at the ground.

  “Because you wish it or because you feel you are being cast from this house?”

  “Edwina will be well soon. I am not needed.”

  He lifted her chin with a finger. “I am not concerned about Edwina. Do you wish to stay?”

  “So that they can say I am here for the few precious moments that I can share with my sister’s husband? Is there not trouble enough over my being here?”

  “Do not punish yourself, Chandra. This is not your fault and you have been strong.”

  “And my strength diminishes with each passing day. Nay, I beg of you, do not make it difficult for me. Give me escort home.”

  “Of course. It will be as you desire. You can ride on the morrow.”

  She turned as if she would leave, but found he had her arm and was drawing her back to him. So swiftly that she could not stop him, he had locked her in his embrace.

  “Conan, nay, you must not hold me so. If someone--”

  “I will hear if anyone approaches,” he assured her.

  “But ‘tis wrong! You must not touch me so!”

  “Chandra,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face. “I am prepared to live with the ties I have made for myself, but I have wondered for too long. I must know if I am greedy in my heart and crying out like a babe for more wealth than I already have, or if there is something real between us.”

  “Nay, Conan, you must not.”

  “One kiss, I pray,” he said softly. “By the blood of God, I wouldst do you no harm and never would I soil you. One kiss, for that is all I may ever know of you.”

  The soft and sure determination in his gaze showed her he suffered no confusion. She shook her head negatively, but he held her fast with his arms and eyes. She was certain she should not assent, but she could not find her reason. His touch and scent, his eyes, so loving and warm, gave her to wonder what harm there was in a kiss. Could the longing ever be more? The future any better or worse for a kiss? Slowly her eyelids dropped, and her mouth, half opened in expecta­tion, met his.

  His arm tightened about her waist and her head dropped back to be cradled in his hand, her thick hair woven about his fingers. His sigh was deep as he consumed her with his kiss, his blood racing through his veins as he tasted response, so sweet and so welcome. He felt her quiver slightly and the inexperience of her lips made his fulfillment even greater. What he suspected was confirmed as he held her. Their love, given a chance, could rival the stars in its brightness.

  With great reluctance he let her go, and she moved quickly away from him lest he be tempted to more. They both knew this one kiss had not only confirmed the heights their passion might reach, but the danger in being too close.

  “You must heed your words, Sir Conan,” she said, some­what shaken. “You must live with the ties you have made. You must never touch me so again.”

  He looked at her with confidence. “I give you my word. I will not dishonor you. My love must never hurt you.”

  “With your permission I will leave at morningtide.”

  “I will advise my riders.”

  Chandra reached for the stable door, though her hand was weak and it took every fiber of control to keep from running into his arms.

  “Chandra,” he said to her back. Weakly she turned and looked at him. “I will not touch you again, nor will I seek to weaken your resolve, so you need not fear me.” She shook her head and it was truth: she did not fear him. It was something growing within herself that she feared. Conan continued, “I may never again feel your lips close to mine, but be sure in your heart that my love is real and will endure. It will be impossible for me ever to love another woman as I love you.”

  Tears came to her eyes, though she fought them. “Do not watch my departure, my lord,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “And do not fill your nights with dreams of what can never be.” With that said, she threw open the stable door and rushed into the night. The door, unlatched, banged in the wind. She did not return to close it and he did not move to secure it.

  Soon there was nothing where she had stood--nothing but the wind causing the door to crash against the outer wall. He stared at the memory of her. “I will not watch you go, fair lady, for that would pain my heart. But I will savor my dreams. That is the only peace there is for me.”

  ***

  Early the next morn, while the village was just coming alive and the smoke from the rekindled fires was swirling about Stoddard’s walls, the party of riders that would escort Chan­dra home was assembling about the carts in the courtyard.

  Conan stayed in his chamber, vowing to himself that he would not venture to the courtyard to bid them farewell. But his plan was not to be. It was Mallory and Thurwell who drew him out and asked for a moment of his time in the courtyard.

  “I’ve taken much to heart the advice you gave me, Conan. You urged me on to find a way to make some claim that would please my lady’s father. I think I have found the way,” Mallory said. “It may not please you.”

  Conan’s brow arched in question and he looked to Thur­well. The only answer he saw in his face was that he would go with Mallory, to whatever fate. They would not separate now, after such a long friendship.

  “What is your plan?” Conan asked with some reluctance.

  “In some ways it would be better not to tell you, Conan. We could ride out with the lady this morn and you would learn our intentions soon enough. But neither of us could see the worth of leaving your hall without a word and have you think us traitors to your cause.”

  “I have no cause,” Conan grumbled, “save the cause of the king.”

  “Aye, Conan,” Thurwell said solemnly. “Henry lies half alive and half dead in France. His health is as tender a thing as a slender branch under an eagle’s nest. He refuses to name Richard as his rightful heir. What Henry does in this is wrong. That father and sons should fight each other is wrong. But we go to Richard. We will pledge to him.”

  “Richard will gain his due with Henry’s passing,” Conan said. “He is a strong warrior and will win his right. What use in defying the king who saw you knighted?”

  “Because Richard will be grateful and will likely reward those who defend his right.”

  Conan could see clearly now. Mallory would find his fame and wealth by choosing his army carefully. “But it can be called by no name but treason,” said Conan.

  Mallory shrugged. “My honorable friend,” he said with affection. “ ‘Tis easy to be steadfast when your family name and wealth are your tools. Aye, treason, for a fortnight or a year, whichever is the length of Henry’s life. It will be called treason while the king lives, but when Richard is king it will be called wisdom.”

  “And if there is war?” Conan asked.

  “There has been war,” Thurwell replied. “There will be war again. And again.”

  “And if I am called? My father and my wife’s father stand firm in their allegiance to Henry. Unless I cease to call myself a son and leave all my possessions behind to travel to France, what prevents us from meeting opposite each other on a field of battle with swords raised?”

  Mallory laughed and looked at Conan much as he would regard a younger brother. “My good friend, I would expect you to fight. And do not expect my breast bare to your blade. But you must see, Conan, that your loyalties have been fed to you like a midday meal. Though you have the right to choose them, you take the offered ties and ‘tis your right to abide or deny them. You w
ill do what you have to do, and if that means raising a sword to a friend, you must fight to win. And I will do what I have to do.

  “But I think it more likely we will be reunited under a new king,” Mallory continued, “for Henry may yet acknowledge Richard’s right. And if he does not, and Richard comes to the throne by right of arms, I doubt he would punish those who served his father well. Most of England would dance from a gibbet if he dared.”

  “Is there no other way?” Conan asked. “My father urges me to find a castellan to tend and support Stoddard with arms. I could make that decision in your favor and he would be pleased.”

  “Lands not even my own? Conan, this of all things cannot come as a gift from you.”

  “Then what of Edythe’s dower lands?” he asked, not noticing Mallory jump in surprise at the sound of her name. “My father has long said he would greatly reward a hardy man who would act as guardian to that estate. It was my mother’s and has been neglected because of the resistance of the Welsh neighbors.”

  Mallory smiled indulgently. He wished he could tell Conan that he hoped someday to be one of Alaric’s strong arms, not to acquire wealth but to serve his lady and his father by marriage. But he only said, “There must be pride in the gathering of a fortune or it means naught. And if I do not make haste in building my wealth, I will find the maid gone.”

  Conan laughed. “I remember a time when women did not matter. I remember when our passing words were not so sweet and noble.”

  “Other women do not matter,” Mallory said with serious­ness. “Only one.”

  And in his heart Conan agreed. For every man at some time in his life, there was only one. And that one could bring joy untold or a heart weeping with longing. He could not begrudge his friend his chance. “Would that I could see the dame who drives you so hard.” Then he chuckled in spite of himself. “Would that I could drive you so hard.”

  “You haven’t the proper swing to your skirts to give Mallory such will,” Thurwell laughed. He grasped Conan’s hand firmly. “Godspeed, friend.”