by Robyn Carr
He brought her down to her feet and looked at her. “Westminster, I would think. Would you mind if we went there?”
She did not notice the teasing glint in his eyes. Her mind was filled with the number of days it had been since she had last seen Mallory. “I would not mind,” she answered him.
Conan led them toward Westminster. Being unfettered as he was, no one would know his rank, but the richness of his surcoat and the emblem of the blue falcon made him out to be at least a knight, and the crowd parted for his passage. The ladies fared the journey through the masses poorly, their dresses being caught on spurs, their wimples being tugged and finally lying askew atop their shoulders. But neither minded. They giggled and struggled to keep up with their escort.
Edythe stopped the moment she could see the rising structure of Westminster beyond the many heads that blocked her vision. “Lift me, Conan,” she ordered. “I will tell you what I see.”
Without thought he lifted her and she sat still, looking in all directions, finally tapping him on the head so that he would bring her down. Her eyes were downcast and her excitement seemed drowned by some other emotion.
“Do you see where they stand?” he asked.
“Aye, Conan, many of the knights have dismounted. Sir Thurwell was still upon his horse and Sir Mallory was leading his.”
“Clearly in sight?” he asked. He raised her chin with his finger and saw the gathering tears in her eyes. “Can you lead me to them?”
She nodded and her chin trembled slightly. “Conan, they wear the Cross.”
Conan knew at once that all his suspicions had been accurate. She had hoped Mallory would return to take her to wife, but he returned prepared to go to war. “Can you make your way to him?” he asked gently.
She nodded as one large tear traced its way down her cheek.
“Go then. I will follow.”
Her hand came up to caress his cheek and then she stood on tiptoes to kiss him. Her eyes met his for an instant and her gratefulness glowed there. Then she lifted her skirts and darted through the people. Conan’s last glimpse of her was her dark brown hair bouncing down her back as she ran to meet Mallory.
“Conan,” Chandra begged, “Conan, where has Edythe gone?” She had to tug at his sleeve a moment longer before he looked down at her. She frowned in confusion and then her eyes widened to see his misting slightly.
“She has gone to her knight,” he said softly.
“Her knight? I did not know Edythe was betrothed.”
“She is not. But she has chosen. And Sir Mallory is her chosen one.”
“Mallory?” Chandra was surprised.
“Come. We must join them. I would give her the moon, but I dare not give her more than a moment alone with Mallory.”
Before Chandra could digest this news, Conan was pulling her again through the crowd. Soon they were among the many horses that had delivered the knights into the city, the large beasts forming a maze that was difficult for even a tall man to see through. When Conan found them he stopped, leaned casually against a horse’s hip and crossed his arms in front of him.
Mallory held Edythe clear of the ground, burying his face in her neck and filling his hand with her hair. She clung to him as fiercely, her small feet showing from under her gown. Thurwell was the one to see Conan, and he squirmed a bit uncomfortably, clearing his throat and getting no response from Mallory. Then with his elbow Thurwell jolted the happy couple apart. Mallory turned on his friend with a growl, but he was directed by Thurwell’s eyes to Conan. The anger left Mallory’s eyes and was quickly replaced by concern. Gingerly he walked the short distance to where Conan stood.
“Pardon, Conan,” he said with a half bow. “My word, I have not harmed the lass in any way.”
“Oh? Methinks you’ve greatly hurt her.”
“Nay, by my oath, I have not--”
“You’ve taken the Cross,” Conan interrupted.
Mallory stiffened with pride. “Aye, Conan. ‘Tis my intention to fight for Richard and God, and with what I gain I will make my offer to your father. I hope to marry Lady Edythe.”
“When?” Conan questioned lazily. “When you’re an old man and finally returned from Jerusalem? I think it a poor proposal.”
Mallory seemed resigned. “I cannot blame you, Conan, but I will not rest so easily with your refusal. I will face my lord Alaric in any case.”
Conan laughed easily and drew his sister from Mallory’s side, rather enjoying the older man’s discomfort as he did so. “Betrothal? Before you venture off to war? Nay, I would not sell my sister into such a bargain.” He looked down into Edythe’s pleading eyes and smiled devilishly. “I say you marry her now or not at all.”
With a cry of gladness, Edythe threw her arms about her brother’s neck and hugged him so tightly that he could scarcely breathe. Choking and gasping, he disengaged himself from her wild embrace and looked into Mallory’s smiling eyes.
“You are a generous friend, Conan,” he said, extending his hand.
“Oh, I am that,” Conan laughed. “But you have yet to meet my father. My approval means nothing.”
“It means everything,” Mallory argued. “How long have you known?”
Conan thought about how long he had hoped Edythe had chosen a man such as Mallory, but answered honestly. “For a fragment of this past hour,” he said. “And now I know that for years you have been courting her. She was too young when you began.”
“Nay,” Mallory laughed. “She has been courting me! Tugging at the heart I swore would not be tethered. From France I heard her,” he claimed, drawing Edythe back to his side.
“Rest assured that I support your desire to take her to wife, but seeing her as a woman is a matter that has taken its toll on me. And I will not leave you with her long, for I know more than I like of your ways with the wenches.”
“All that is past, Conan,” Mallory promised, though he could not suppress his smile.
Conan turned to Thurwell. “Our friend has good cause to go to war, but what of you?”
Thurwell smiled. “It is war, Conan. What more reason?”
Conan stood still for a moment, his eyes fixed on Thurwell’s. He envied them both, these two friends going off to war. He had come home to his father’s lands prepared to be his loyal vassal, and now he was farmer and bookkeeper, spokesman for his father and his wife’s father at political conferences, hunter, and breeder of horses. Three estates, Phalen, Anselm and even Stoddard, depended upon him for protective arms and management, for Alaric and Medwin were growing old. And there was Edwina. He would have taken the Cross, but he was pledged and could not in good conscience abandon a wife who he feared could not manage without him.
He had been trained to fight and was among the finest knights in all Christendom, but he could not forsake his duties. Though he longed to test his sword and his skill in war, he was obligated to his position as landlord and vassal to others.
He shook off his musings and turned abruptly to Mallory. “Friend or foe, you will treat her well and do her honor, or I will make you wish you had.”
“I know better than to test your threat, Conan. Have no fear.”
“Then let us go straightaway to Alaric,” Conan said. “He will be glad to see you, though he knows nothing of the favors you will ask.”
The two knights proved to be more than adequate protection for Edythe and they went ahead, the spectators parting and bowing to the large symbols of the Cross on their chests. They cleared the path for Conan and he extended his arm to Chandra. She looked up at him with her warm blue eyes, a sentimental half smile on her lips. “You are wonderful to help them, Conan,” she said.
He smiled and touched her cheek. “Why should I not wish to help them, cherie? I must take my pleasure from the happiness of others, since there is no way I can help myself.”
Her smile faded to a frown and she could not look at him, feeling again the guilt of knowing they loved wrongly. “Conan, there is no help.”
He could not abide her sorrow. He pulled her along with something of a carefree attitude. “ ‘Tis true, maid, there is no help. Well, we’ve been tricked by fate, and all of heaven has turned its back on us. For that I feel dread and sadness. But your smile no one can take from me.” He winked at her as he pulled her past the crowds of merchants, beggars and warriors in the magical London streets. Finally she smiled up at him, unable to frown into his happy face. “And your eyes. In them I see the blue of the sky, and it speaks of eternity--a forever about you, damsel, that gives me hope and fills my emptier nights with blissful dreams. So it’s true that I cannot have you, nor you, me. But there is something I can have of you. I will know in the worst of times that I have your heart--and upon occasion, your smile. If I must content myself with that much of you, I will. ‘Tis better than having nothing of you at all.”
Chandra stopped suddenly and looked up at him. She did not share his contentment. She often thought she would be better off having never known him at all, having never felt his gentle touch. And the torture no longer came from the fact that he belonged to her sister. Now it was a more vicious demon that held her from hope. “Conan, I am to marry Tedric. Soon,” she reminded him.
The warmth was gone from his eyes. His pupils shrank to pinpoints, and he stopped walking so he could look at her. “That, my love, takes even the joy of your smile from my heart.”
The reunion in Alaric’s house was heartwarming. Medwin had arrived and happily greeted his daughter Edwina and old friends. The embraces and hearty laughter from that reunion had barely subsided when Edythe arrived with Mallory and Thurwell, and again cups were filled and raised. The first toast was barely drunk when Chandra and Conan returned.
The sisters had not seen each other since that time two years before when Chandra had traveled to Stoddard with Conan’s men to tend to Edwina’s health. Lady Udele was the only member of the household not present.
Alaric plagued the two knights of the Cross with questions of Richard’s plans and news from France. He did not seem to notice Mallory’s gradually increasing tension. Conan exchanged amused glances with Chandra.
Edythe became impatient with talk of politics and war. “There is another matter, Father,” she finally said. Alaric looked at her in wonder, and the lass blushed slightly. She had not wanted to speak for Mallory, but she suspected this task might be more distressing to him than fighting. Fighting was natural to him, she told herself. Begging the hand of a maid was not. “Sir Mallory would have a word with you--privately.”
“A private word?” Alaric questioned.
“Nay, it need not be private,” Mallory returned nervously. “There are naught but friends here.” He stood and faced Lord Alaric and bowed clumsily but respectfully. “My lord, ‘tis the matter of the marriage of your daughter,” he said, stopping to clear his throat twice in just those few words. “My family is not well known and there are no lands, but I go to fight with Richard and would gladly yield whatever prizes of war I will claim to the betrothal contract if you will give me Edythe’s hand.”
“You?” Alaric asked softly.
Mallory cleared his throat again, feeling as though he were alone, though his friends were behind him. “Her dowry of course will be hers for her children and I pose no argument to that. Likewise any marriage gift--Edythe’s for her own dowry. And I would gladly pledge myself as vassal to your lands, if you ask it of me.”
“Vassal,” Alaric mimicked, somewhat amused.
“Vassal,” Mallory repeated. “If you choose.”
“And of these riches you intend to bring home?” Alaric asked with a faint smile.
“To bargain for the bride of my choice, my lord. To be part of the estate that supports Edythe or as a gift to you for her hand, as you will it. I will pledge it now, before it is won.”
“A betrothal? Now?” Alaric asked.
Mallory cleared his throat again. It had begun to feel raw and sore. “I am not needed until Christmastide, my lord. We depart from Vezelay, in France, after Easter. I would marry Edythe now and give you my word that upon my return you shall dispose of the prizes of war as you see fit.”
Alaric scratched his beard and looked quizzically at the knight. “And if there are no prizes of war?”
Mallory straightened himself. “My lord, there will be.”
Alaric chuckled. “Aye, there will be.”
“You will see upon my return that my promise is no passing fancy. I will return with wealth enough to make the bargain more than fair.”
“I believe that,” Alaric said, pushing his bulky frame out of the chair and rising slowly. He came to Mallory’s height when standing erect, and he looked into Mallory’s eyes. “She is a slight lass, and young,” Alaric said, indicating Edythe with his eyes. “I have seen you meet men in the contest of arms with less halting than now, and I for one have never feared Edythe.”
Mallory smiled with more confidence now, for he could plainly see the twinkle in Alaric’s eye. “Then you have not felt the sharpness of her tongue, my lord. She seems a gentle maid, but the fate she promised me if I failed to please you made me quiver in my boots.”
Alaric’s voice dropped to barely a whisper and there was a smile on his lips. “She is not so fearsome,” the old lord confided. “It took you a very long time to heed her warnings.” Mallory responded with only a look of confusion. “I am old, but I am not an old fool,” Alaric said softly. “I long ago decided I would be proud to call you son.”
Mallory’s heart was touched by Alaric’s approval, and when the old lord extended his hand, Mallory took it gratefully. When Edythe saw the two men clutching hands in friendship, she guessed her father’s approval and jumped to her feet with a squeal, wrapping her arms around her father’s neck, then Conan’s, Thurwell’s and finally Mallory’s. Another toast was raised and more laughter and congratulations followed.
The door to the lodgings opened and Lady Udele entered with her manservant, Pierce, close behind. Udele greeted all her guests warmly.
“Bring a goblet to my lady,” Alaric called to a servant. “She will want to toast the occasion.”
Udele looked immediately to Conan. “Occasion?” she asked with a faint smile.
“Sir Mallory and Edythe have spoken their preference for each other and the wedding will be soon,” Alaric announced.
“Sir Mallory,” Udele choked. “But--they--Mallory has been in France! What of all the others who have spoken for Edythe?”
“In her mind, madam, there have been no others.”
“But he is to go to war with Richard!” She turned to Mallory, shocked. “You will wed the girl now and leave her with her father, probably heavy with child, to go to war? What assurance have we that you will not be killed, leaving a widow and child for me to see to?”
“You have my promise, madam,” Mallory said as respectfully as he could. Edythe moved closer to his side, frightened that her mother would change her father’s mind. Mallory slipped a protective arm about her waist while all others in the room held silent.
“What proposition is this?” she asked her husband. “Sir Mallory is a good man, to be sure, but what of Edythe’s future? He is a poor knight, with no family with arms to support him and--”
“I am not concerned with her husband’s wealth,” Alaric said with a shrug. “Galen’s bride will bring lands to our family when he marries. Edythe’s dowry is not grand and she will give children to her husband’s family. I think he provides for her enough.”
“What?” Udele asked testily. She looked about the room. She alone opposed this, that much was clear. And what of Conan’s loyalties? She had planned so carefully, so painstakingly. He would take the bulk of this estate and Udele would live in comfort. But he was giving his support and pledging himself to so many others: Edwina, Chandra, Medwin, Galen, Edythe, Mallory... “What does he provide her with?”
“Protection when he has returned. A strong arm. Love. Hope. Things that are more important than riches, lad
y,” Alaric said easily.
Conan could contain himself no longer. “Madam, I see this as an advantage for our family. More than one vassal will be needed in time to keep safe the lands we gain. By the grace of God, more vassals than you have sons. Should Edythe be given to a rich knight with lands of his own, we could not count on his support. But with Anselm, Phalen, Stoddard and the surrounding lands, ‘tis a blessing to have another son not bound to his father. We can bring him into our family’s service and count him as another strong arm.”
“But wed to a man soon to go warring in some faraway land? Alaric is old and it is time for him to see his children well fit, not a time to add more burdens to his shoulders. Who will see to our daughter’s welfare if she is left widowed with a child?”
“Whom do you suspect shall, madam?” Conan asked tartly. “If I am to be lord of my father’s lands, I can speak for my sister’s welfare. She shall always have her place with me, if need be. And if there is a child, his welfare will be mine as well. No further promise seems needed.”
“Have you not pledges enough?” Udele asked angrily. “You’ve pledged to your mother, your wife, your wife’s sister has become your concern. And now another ward, mayhaps two--”
“Methinks you bury the knight too soon, lady,” Conan said sharply. “It chafes me sore that I cannot travel with my comrades into battle but must cleave to England for the sake of my family. They make me a tree with many blossoms and I see no harm in adding yet another to the branches for my protection. I think I can easily bear the weight.” He steadied himself and took a breath. “Were my father already gone, God save us, and the decision mine, I would give Edythe to Mallory. I know his ways and his skills, and no finer knight is asking.”
Udele saw the battle lost. Tears came to her eyes and she sought a way to hide her disappointment. She turned to Edythe and reached for her hand. “Edythe, dear child, can you be content, a woman alone while your husband is at war? If you have but a moment as his bride and he leaves you heavy with child, can you bear the weight?”
Edythe, somewhat touched by her mother’s tears, smiled. “I know Sir Mallory must go, madam, and I will not bemoan his absence but pray for his safe return. I could not be content any other way.”