The Blue Falcon

by Robyn Carr

  “I know that, William.” She smiled. “I chose to come myself rather than send for you.” She looked around her. His humble home was not rich, but was kept in a good state of repair. He had made neat rows in his garden in preparation for planting, and a goat stood tied to his fence. Leather flaps were the only guard against the cold entering his windows, and the roof was recently reinforced with fresh sod. He cared meticulously for what he owned and obviously took pride in this humble acreage. “Will you offer me a cup and a seat?”

  “Here, lady?”

  “‘Tis your home, William. I would be honored.”

  He shrugged, somewhat surprised. It was not unusual for the lord and lady of the manor to venture into the village to view the commoners’ way of life, but to pay a social call was quite rare. Proudly he led her into the small hut and brushed the crumbs from his morning meal onto the floor, offering her the only chair at a modest trestle table and taking the stool for himself. There was a pitcher on the table filled with ale, rather bitter and stale, but the best he could offer. “I have no fine cups, m’lady,” he apologized.

  “Take up your own and I will use another.”

  He poured what remained of the last user’s ale onto the rushes and set the cup before her, filling hers and his own to the brim. On a board on the table sat bread and cheese, and in a wooden bowl was honey. He gestured with his hand that she should indulge.

  Chandra picked up the bread already cut from the loaf and dipped a corner into the honey, tasting it slowly. It was stale and dry, and the honey contained a few of the usual pests, drawn there by the sweetness. She daintily removed those she cared not to eat and chewed, washing it down with a sip of ale.

  William joined her in taking a bite of cheese and bread, grinding it much more easily, for he was accustomed to its hardness. His, in fact, was one of the finer homes and his table more generous than most. He watched her slowly, wondering what matter brought her here. She might have him think this a pleasant social call, but he knew better.

  They sat thusly for several moments, chewing and drinking, Chandra politely admiring some things about his home and he thanking her for her compliments.

  “You have acquired some comforts for your family, Wil­liam. You must be proud of what you have.”

  “My family has lived comfortably. We have been content.”

  “Has my family aided you in any way to accomplish all that you have?” she asked coyly.

  “Aye, lady, you know that. Without the confidence your mother placed in me I would be naught but a simple farmer here. I owe your family a great deal.”

  She reached out and touched his hand, and he felt the dark stain of a blush rise to his cheeks. He had never touched a noble lady but to aid her in mounting her horse or help her in some other way. Certainly never with affection, as she touched him now. “There is no debt, William. Your loyal service and great strength have helped me and mine, and in times of trouble you have been my most dependable vassal.” She took a breath and looked at him for a moment. His eyes were bright with anticipation. He knew she was leading to a serious confrontation. “I bring you news that will be most difficult to bear. I ask you to summon your strength.”

  He nodded once, his eyes narrowing.

  “Your daughter, Wynne, is with child.”

  The lines on his face deepened as he clenched his eyes and mouth tightly. Finally he looked at her again.

  “You come to me in friendship like this,” he said slowly, “in hopes that my rage can be quenched by your--”

  “I come to you in friendship! And the rage I hope to subdue is not for my sake, but for yours. And the people of Cordell.”

  “Do you deny that this village would be better off with Sir Tedric gone?” he shouted, his fist hitting the small table with such force that the cup holding Chandra’s ale tipped and spilled onto her mantle. She ignored the spill and quickly covered his clenched fist with her own small, white hand and looked beseechingly into his eyes.

  “An arrow from the forest can end Tedric and remove him from this burgh, and who would know from whence it came?” she asked urgently, reading the man’s mind more accurately than she could know. “But it will not take the stain of Wynne’s defilement from her, nor will the child she carries vanish. It would remove one villain, William, and leave us one much worse--the sin of killing.”

  “This was once a good and peaceful place,” he said.

  “It will be a good place again. With God’s help.”

  William turned and looked at his lady. She was not very much older than his own Wynne, and she looked meek and frail, an illusive covering to the strength he knew her to have. Indeed, she had borne much of the insult of Tedric’s cruelty on her own tender frame, without complaint or tears.

  “Do you fear I will act out my rage and slay your lord husband before the sun lowers in this day’s sky?”

  “Nay, William. Sir Tedric is gone and will not return for many days.”

  “So, you hope to see my temper cooled while he is gone.”

  She nodded. “But I have held no secret from you, William. Wynne came to me only this morn.”

  He nodded, but he could find no words to pledge to Tedric’s safety.

  Chandra knew better than to expect more than a curt nod from a man so greatly wronged. She pulled her mantle about her and rose. William stepped away from the door to allow her departure, marveling inwardly at the poise she could maintain even in this troubled time of her life.

  As she left the little hut he watched her. At the edge of his small lot she turned and looked back at him. They communi­cated with their eyes for a moment and William knew he could never defy her. She owned him as totally as he could be bound. He was tethered to her. And to Cordell.

  “You are well schooled in duty, William,” she said. “I am also. But I can no more forgive this wrong than I can forget my duty.” And she turned to go, not looking back at her most loyal vassal.

  William stood at the gate and watched her walk away. She stopped suddenly and William saw her look up. He followed her gaze to see a falcon rise in the sky. It could be some farmer’s bird or even one of the keep’s own falcons, but to Chandra it must have reminded her of something more. She watched it for a long moment until it flew farther and the sight of it was blocked by the rising walls of Cordell Keep. She crossed herself and moved on.

  “Aye, lady,” William said to her vanishing form. “I, too, pray for his safety. If there is any hope for this burgh, it is in the Blue Falcon.”

  When Lent is past, Chandra thought just before drifting off to sleep, I will send word to Edythe and invite her for a visit. But as the thought came, she quickly dismissed it. She could not allow Edythe here. Tedric would likely take great plea­sure in having a captive guest whom Conan treasured. Just as she had failed to protect Wynne, she could not protect Edythe. And with Lady Udele watching over Anselm closely, would the message even reach Edythe? The walls between them were built tall and stoutly.

  Perhaps I can make a pilgrimage to the convent and bring my love to Laine. But that thought, too, was struck away. Tedric had not allowed her to travel even to a nearby town without his escort, so afraid was he that she would flee from him. If he did not have business near the convent, he would not be pleased to take her. And there was not much to draw him to Thetford.

  She sighed in peaceful rest. For this brief space of time that Tedric was away she could sleep without worry. She needn’t fear that some member of the village had been unjustly punished, and she knew Wynne was safe in her bed. She closed her eyes on a long day and turned her mind to her prayers.

  “Father, forgive my many sins and be my father’s strength. Forgive his error and give him peace in his old age: he sought not to hurt me or these good people. Give Edwina’s soul rest and let her not be restless in her grave. O Lord, forgive my weakness, and even so, protect the Falcon. Make his eyes sharp and his hand quick! Let him move within Your care and keep him safe ...” Her mind fell from prayers and into
dreams as the mists of early spring enveloped the keep and the fires grew dimmer.

  A rock on the seaside slipped and bounced to the water below, down a long drop of cliff.

  A tower guard jumped. “What was that?”

  “I heard nothing,” the other replied.

  For a few moments they were quiet and tense, waiting for another suspicious sound, but nothing came. The crickets in the wood sang their nighttime song, and the keep soldiers did not find their slumber disturbed.

  A chill breeze invaded the bedchamber of the lady of the manor. Chandra unconsciously pulled her cover closer about her. She was not cold. A feeling encompassed her and her eyes slowly opened. She looked into the burning blue eyes of a memory that could not be dissolved in her mind--his thick, dark hair curling about his face and his beard stiff and thick, parting only to show the bright smile that she remembered from happier days. Her hand moved to touch him, her fingers feeling the white Crusader’s Cross on his tunic.

  “You are cruel to invade my dreams so often, my love,” she whispered faintly.

  The image would fade and blend into a familiar fantasy of what life might have held for her had her lover not--

  But her hand was held in one much larger, warm and secure against his sturdy chest. He squeezed her fingers gently and then brought them to his lips. The crisp beard and moist lips could not be mere imagination.

  Her eyes opened and her lips parted in astonishment, for if he was not real, it was by far the most vivid dream she had ever known. She dared not speak lest she break this unearthly spell. She needed, more than ever in her life, to be near him.

  His arms came around her and his mouth lowered to hers. She drank in the deepness of his kiss, straining against him, moving against the insistent mouth with an urgency of her own. She tasted his mouth and caressed the bold, mailed chest, finally bringing her hands to lock into the thick hair at the base of his neck. She was filled with his entire essence: the smell of the wool, leather and horses, the taste of him, the warmth of his breath in her mouth.

  Tears coursed down her cheeks and fell into her hair. A sob escaped her and her breath came in ragged spasms. Her breasts, pressed hard against his mail, smarted from the desperation with which he held her.

  When he released her mouth she reached for his face with shaking fingers, marveling that he had not faded into the midnight mists. “You are real,” she sighed in a weak whisper.

  “Real,” he murmured.

  “Hold me,” she begged, hungry for the protection of his arms. But that security lasted only a moment before she broke away and looked at him with wide eyes. “There is danger in coming here,” she whispered.

  “Your door is bolted.”

  “More than that,” she breathed. “If you are found here--”

  “I will fight, in that case. I could not leave you without a proper farewell.”

  “Tedric is not here,” she confided.

  “I know that. More the pity. I should like having him find me here. I would take more pleasure than is right in killing him.”

  She shook her head sadly. “If he learns you have been here, he will likely kill me.”

  “He would not dare. I would come from hell to see him pay. He knows this well. He claims you only because he wants to keep you from me. How he knows that I desire you is a mystery to me.”

  “Who knows you are here?” she asked, fearing the whole village guarded a secret that could change the course of her life.

  “Only Sir William. And he would die before confessing.”

  Again the tears came, and she closed her eyes against his image. He touched her cheeks and hair, gently brushing the moistness away. “I cannot stay you, Conan,” she breathed.

  “I know,” was his soft reply.

  “I have no will left. It has been torn away. I cannot deny you.”

  “Don’t. Don’t deny me. There have been years of re­straint, never yielding. Has it earned us reprieve or grace? You are bound to a man who does not love you but uses you. I have buried a wife and am bound to war. What more could be dealt us now? Chandra,” he moaned, clutching her to him, “what has happened to us? We have loved since the first and were never given our day! We suffered and refused to commit the greater sin, holding all that we felt from each other! Has there been any reward for such strength and conviction?” He looked closely into her eyes and let his lips rest lightly on hers. “Yield,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Her tears were gone and the trembling that possessed her now was of a different emotion. She relaxed into the pillows, and a smile, tender and loving, graced her lips. He released her gently and moved away from her to struggle out of the heavy mail and chausses, soft leather boots and spurs. When he stood again at the side of her bed in all his naked majesty, she glowed at the beauty of his body. His tall and sturdy frame was not only a result of the burdensome clothing of his profession: he was as awesome bereft of his clothing.

  As he leaned over her again, all thoughts of restraint fled her mind and she opened her arms to him. A fever of passion such as she had never known filled her. His hands on her brought to life a dream that had been nurtured in the private chambers of her mind, and so quickly that there was no conscious thought leading to the act, she was all of him and he was all of her. Blended together in body and spirit, there was a power to their lovemaking that rivaled the crashing of the sea against the rocks below.

  As if the greatest hunger were finally nourished, the driest thirst quenched, they lay together, touching that tender ground so often dreamt of but never walked.

  “Are we truly miles removed from each other and only dreaming the same dream?” she whispered.

  “For once it is not so,” he returned. He raised himself on an elbow and looked down into her eyes. In the dimness of the room he could see the gloss of tears. “Love, do not weep. The blame is mine--”

  “Blame? I do not weep for something lost, Conan, but for what I’ve found. Could I have pain from the only touch of love I have known? Could I feel anger for the only joy I have felt? Oh, love, I weep for the beauty of a moment--and the pain of parting.”

  “Then you must hold the moment,” he told her. “You must keep the memory safe in your heart, and it will come again. On my word, Chandra, I will find a way.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I fear to hope for so much.”

  He lowered himself and touched her lips softly, weaving his fingers through her hair. “Our time is brief,” he said against her lips. “But our joy will be great, and the bond is forever. Hold dear what little we have, love, and hope. I swear, I will find a way.”

  “So much stands between--”

  He silenced her with his lips, his hand making one long caress of her body, her flesh coming to life under his touch.

  “You tremble, love,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Conan,” she groaned. “Do not leave me soon... Do not leave me too soon...”

  “Eternity would be too soon,” he returned.

  The weight of his body pressed her down, and his lips traced a fiery path along her flesh. The thirst returned, the hunger raged, and she answered him with a passion wild, a side of herself she had not known existed. His laughter echoed from deep in his throat as he tasted her response. A glow from his touch covered her, tortured her, consumed, devoured--and was spent. As if their two souls had been entwined, she feared to release him.

  “The sky will lighten soon,” he said.

  “How did you manage your entrance?” she asked.

  “Easily, through the lord’s chamber.”

  “You should not attempt the halls, Conan. Since Tedric’s coming, there are guards posted.”

  “I did not come through the halls. I came from Tedric’s balcony, across the cliffs.”

  Her eyes grew round as she considered the drop had he lost his footing for even an instant. The balconies were twins, but separated by a distance equal to a man’s height. Every consideration was given to protection during the building of the
manor house. If any attempt was to be made on the town from the sea, there was no place to bring up a boat near the manor or town. The only suitable entrance was much farther up the coast, and that stretch of coastline was watched by the fishermen.

  Conan shared Chandra’s concern. The climb he had made was precarious indeed. “I will stay for a few days. Can you come to me from now on?”

  “How will I find you?”

  “Make your way to the wood. I will find you.”

  “I am chaperoned on my every excursion, whether to the wood or shore, but I will find a way. But how have you come? Word was that you were preparing forces in France.”

  “Aye. Even now if I am missed it will be difficult to explain. But we are safe. Richard does not concentrate heavily on my whereabouts, and I left my men in good company. Time is short, love.”

  “I never dreamt there would be this much.”

  “This could be all we’ll have, love, until I have found the way to claim you.”

  “Conan,” she started, perplexed, “if you truly love me as you say, why have you chosen war?”

  “What will Tedric do while I am in England? While I am able to protect my possessions? He would hold you fast and take pleasure in my envious stare. But if I am gone from here, holding you from me will lose its flavor. When I return we will set this troubled destiny aright.”

  “You must return, Conan,” she breathed.

  “Do you think even the angel of death could keep me from you now?”

  “Please,” she begged. “Go quickly.”

  He rose to find his clothing, carelessly scattered, and donned the chausses, mail and tunic as quickly as he could. He returned to her side to place a soft kiss on her lips. “The wood,” he breathed.

  “The wood,” she murmured.

  She watched him go through the door that would lead to the lord’s chamber and then to the balcony. She went quickly to her own balcony, the breeze from the sea chilling her naked body. When he appeared on the opposite balcony she raised a hand to him. She watched as he climbed carefully over the balustrade and clung like a spider to the ridges in the stone wall of Cordell Keep. From there he would have to scale a thin and delicate ridge of rock high above a still inlet of water. She could not see him because of the darkness and would not hear him if he fell because of the noise of the sea below. She would not consider that he might not succeed. She sighed deeply and returned to her bed.