by Robyn Carr
The messenger fell to one knee, holding the papers out before him. He felt the roll pulled from his hand. He kept his head bent, looking at the ground, a toe of the great knight’s shoe within his sight. He waited. His back stiffened and his shoulders began to ache, but the toe of the shoe was still in his sight. His forehead began to bead with sweat though the day was cool. His legs began to shake and falter under the abusive kneeling. Why had he not been fed to the hungry soldiers all about him? Tedric’s missive had not been so long as to cost him this amount of time. Was it possible that the great and powerful Blue Falcon could not read? Nay, it could not be so. He had been advised to deliver the message to his hand, not the hand of a castle scribe.
“Rise,” the gruff voice commanded.
Shakily he found his footing. He saw rage in the knight’s blue eyes and he thought it would be the last sight he would see.
“You are aware of impending war between Sir Tedric and me?” Conan asked roughly.
“Yea,” he returned, his voice quivering.
“And the missive,” Conan said, giving the parchment a shake. “Do you know it to be an invitation to war?”
“Yea,” he choked.
“But you brought it. I would know why.”
The messenger saw no compassion in the blue eyes, but he was without choice. He answered honestly. “My family is in sore need of shelter and food. They have no farm or animals. Sir Tedric promised a reward for my family. My life is forfeit for theirs.” He gulped and dropped his eyes from the penetrating stare. Moments passed.
“You show courage. Courage should be rewarded. Make your choice. Stay and pledge yourself to your new lord or return to Tedric.”
He looked up in disbelief. He locked eyes with the great knight for a moment. This act of kindness did not soften the rage he saw there. He fell to one knee and bowed his head. “My lord,” he said.
“Wise as well as courageous,” Conan said flatly. “Your life would have been short with the fox. His days are numbered.”
Sir Conan turned. “Give this man food and drink,” he barked.
The lad found himself hoisted to his feet. He caught a glimpse of Sir Conan as he strode away from his men. The strides were long and quick, the limp less evident.
The doors to the hall burst open as Conan entered the room. Those soldiers not about their duties filled the hall. A sense of order settled over them at the moment of Conan’s presence. Eyes and ears were ready for a command from the master. Word spread quickly within the stout walls of the hamlet.
Alaric had heard the news that word had come from Tedric, and he came quickly from the stables. Udele, in kind, had ventured from the uppermost chambers to hear what word came to her son. As she descended the stair, she was frozen in her place by the icy blue eyes of her son, and for the first time, she felt terror. With a sweeping bow, Conan indicated the royal chair for the lady of Anselm. Poised, she walked past him and took her seat.
“Pray, sit, my lord,” he said to his father. “Beside your wife.”
Alaric perched on the edge of the chair, looking expectantly at his son.
“Tedric is ready to parley,” Conan said. “His supporters are few. He holds Phalen still and will meet me there. He holds his wife, Chandra, and her son as hostages. He offers their lives in exchange for the castle and land. He invites me to Phalen to give my word before witnesses that we have come to an agreeable treaty. In exchange for my promise, he will allow Lady Chandra and her son to live.”
“The castle means more to him than his wife and son?” Alaric asked incredulously.
“At present. He boasts word from an informer that Chandra is an adulteress and the son she bore is not his.”
“Chandra?” Alaric questioned under his breath. Udele stiffened in her chair, her son watching her reaction carefully.
“I am the accused lover and father,” Conan said slowly, his eyes on his mother.
Alaric half rose. He had not dared voice that suspicion even to himself.
Conan did not look at his father. Alaric followed Conan’s gaze to Udele. “Tedric takes great pleasure in telling me that my own mother had the news delivered to him.”
“You?” Alaric choked, bending over Udele. “You would do such a thing? You would betray your own son?”
Conan’s hand was on Alaric’s arm, pulling him from Udele. Alaric faced Conan. “God’s truth,” Conan said, “I am the father of her child. And I have loved her long--long before I took her. Tedric be damned, I will have her and my son unharmed, or all of Tedric’s allies will feel the weight of my anger!”
Alaric looked with venom at his wife. Then he withdrew from her side and went to stand behind Conan, giving him silent permission to handle this in his own way.
Conan faced his mother. “Why did you send this word to my enemy?” he ground out.
“Chandra is a witch,” Udele said easily. “She makes you look the fool. She would bind you with her rosy breasts and lock you into her spell, but she brings you nothing! She is poor and has no name!”
With a snarl and a grimace, Alaric moved farther from his wife. He felt the urge to strike her senseless.
“Has she betrayed me?” Conan barked. “Nay! Has she thrown herself in my path and tempted me? Nay! I crept to her chamber and begged her merest kiss! But you have betrayed me and I cannot name the reason. Why?”
‘“Twas for your own good,” Udele replied, her voice beginning to tremble. Never had she been so frightened of him. His size and strength seemed bent to her destruction. “Chandra would bring you low. She has pranced before you as an anxious harlot while your own wife lay suffering in her bed. She is evil! She is--”
His hand came out hard against her cheek and she fell back into the chair. Before she could clear her vision, he was before her, his arms braced on the sides of her chair so she could not escape his questions.
“You sent this word to Tedric in hopes that he would kill them both?”
Udele sniveled piteously, rubbing her stinging cheek with one hand and picking at her gown with the other. “You could take Phalen. Tedric is no match for you,” she whined.
“You will tell me how you knew the child was sired by me,” he growled.
Udele began to weep. “ Twas for your good. You could not be strong while tied to her charms. She would bind you with her evil seductions. You would bring her here and make her lady of this hall. I am the lady of this hall! I am the lady--”
“Madam!” he shouted.
“Conan, my love,” she whimpered. “She is wrong for you. One taste of her lips has sent you crazed, thinking naught of your family and lands, but only of her! Don’t you see? She would rule your existence, and there would be nothing left for you. Nothing but a shadow where a great warrior once stood!” She broke into more choking sobs. “Nothing left for you, nothing left for me...
“I am young still,” she continued. “I would see your hall managed perfectly; you know that I can do that. You need not share your plenty with so many! There is time yet to find a rich wife: a wealthy woman to add lands to ours! Anselm is yours! Phalen! Stoddard! If Cordell is your desire, take it! Who would stay you? For Galen, to be castellan to one of your estates is enough; he does not need more. Edythe is gone and will take no share.”
Galen, who was standing near his father, turned his back sharply, unable to look at his mother another moment. Alaric’s fists were clenched at his sides.
Conan spoke again, slowly. “Edythe. My God, what have you done?”
“Twas her plan to accuse me! She would have turned my own husband against me! And she would have taken all that we worked for to a knight of no means! They would attach themselves to you like leeches, sucking your power and dividing your lands!”
The door to the hall opened and Udele’s servant entered. He looked at the gathering, observing Conan’s rage and his mistress’s distraught manner. The news had traveled quickly. There was pain in the manservant’s eyes as he faced Conan. “Sir Conan, I would speak,�
�� he begged humbly.
Udele’s eyes shot to the servant’s as she heard his voice. “So,” she spat, “even you would betray me.”
“Lady Edythe is alive,” Pierce said to Conan, glancing hesitantly at Alaric. “I could do her no more harm. I left her in the wood with money enough to buy a horse and clothes to make her look like an aging peasant woman. She was bound for Swaffham Bulbeck and would wait there until her brother and husband returned.”
“I sent my riders to every nunnery in the country,” Alaric protested.
Pierce shook his head. “They would have been sent away. Lady Edythe would not have returned to this place until she could be assured of Sir Conan’s protection.”
Alaric looked with hatred to his wife. “Your evil web so ensnared this hall that my own daughter feared to trust me!” he snarled. He turned back to Pierce. “And this message?” he questioned. “My wife does not speak. How does she know enough to send word to Tedric?”
“Milord,” Pierce began, clearing his throat. “The lacemaker, Giselle, tells milady what she wants to know.”
“So she is a sorceress!” Alaric shouted.
“Nay, milord. She does not play with spells, but sees the future through a crystal.” He cast a worried glance toward Udele and then straightened and went on resolutely. “There was little choice for the woman, Giselle, milord. Milady threatened her.” He looked toward Udele again as if he could not bear the pain of what he was forced to do. “Beg forgiveness, milady,” he said meekly. “I cannot give you aid when you plot against these children and murder--”
Udele looked at him coldly and then, in a measured action, spit at him. She lowered her eyes again, picking at her gown.
“Murder? Edythe lives--” Conan began.
“Your lady, sir knight,” Pierce said, looking to the floor. “The fall was not an accident. That was Edythe’s curse: she overheard milady admit to her hand in Edwina’s death.”
Udele gave a low moan of agony at the further discovery of her sins. She fell from her chair and lay upon the rushes, weeping and shaking.
Conan struggled with his rage, not understanding his mother’s madness. He did not look at Pierce, but heard his voice.
“The money that Tedric gave to Medwin,” Pierce was saying. “Milady gave him the sum--”
“Tedric knew!” Udele gasped. “Tedric knew before you were wed that you did not love your bride, but lusted after her younger sister! The disgrace would have made us seem a family of idiots!”
Conan would not look at his mother--he would not act as if he heard her excuses. “Where did she come by such a large sum?” he asked Pierce.
“Milady gave me jewels and other trinkets to take to the usurers to trade and borrow. When a larger sum was needed, Aaron, the Jew from the north, provided the sum.”
“And by whose order did Tedric slay the Jew?” Conan asked.
“By no order, milord. But he begged more money to keep silent about the loan.”
Conan turned now to his mother, looking down at her in disgust. “And this money that Tedric offers me now--this ‘fair sum’ to pay for the care and lodging of Edwina--did that come from your own purse?”
“I gave him nothing,” Udele said in a hiss. “He could not betray me. He would have had to admit his part in killing the Jew!” Suddenly she began to laugh loudly. The laughter quickly melted into more despairing sobs.
“Take her from my sight,” Conan ordered coldly. Pierce moved quickly.
“You would not consider a woman who could do you honor,” Udele wept. “You would not hearken to my counsel and look abroad for a woman of wealth and name. These meagerly dowered wenches could not do you proud.”
“Take her to her chamber and guard her there,” Alaric ordered.
Pierce dragged Udele from the floor and could not, even under force, make her rise. Finally, desperately wishing to remove her and himself from the room quickly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the stair.
“I bore him and raised him,” she whimpered to the servant. “He was to make this family prosper, allow me wealth and comfort in my retirement, and serve me ...”
The ramblings drifted away and ended. In the quiet, Conan faced his father. “I leave her to you, my lord. I cannot deal with her, for she has cost me too much. Speak not her name to me again, and do what you will. Her madness will be well known in this land, and there is much to set aright.”
“Will you ride on Tedric now?” Alaric asked.
“Yea, the time has come. Are you able to lend me aid?”
Alaric nodded and straightened his back.
“Galen?” he asked.
“Aye.”
“Then prepare yourselves and my men. I have one small piece of work before we ride.”
Sir Conan strode into the hamlet. He looked neither right nor left, and his strides were long and determined. Villagers paused in their doorways, watching him as he passed and wondering at his destination. When he stopped in front of the lacemaker’s cottage, they withdrew into their homes and barred the doors behind them.
Conan raised one leg and applied a mighty kick to the door, forcing the wood to splinter and the leather hinges to give way under the blow. The room was glazed in a violet light, making the image of the old woman within hazy and dim.
He faced her angrily. “You helped Lady Udele to betray me,” he accused.
Giselle was not frightened. “She held the difference between life and death over me. I saw the need to protect my life, sir knight. For now.”
“Now?” he questioned. His eyes began to focus on the crystal before her. A sense of comfort began to replace his anger, and a vision swam before him. In his inner thoughts he could see Chandra.
“Come, Sir Conan, and listen to what I have to say,” she invited him warmly.
He moved closer. “Sir Tedric will not keep his word. Nor will he accept your treaty at Phalen Castle. It is his plan to await you within Phalen’s walls and charm you with his promise of peace--and kill you when you are lulled into agreement.”
“Chandra?” he asked.
“It is Tedric’s plan to kill you first and then order her death. She is prisoner in her own keep where the guard is heavy, and the order is to kill her when Tedric sends word that you are dead.”
“And the child?”
“Nay, the child is safe, though I cannot say where. Spend no worry on your son. Free the lady.”
“Yea, and then I will fight Tedric.”
“Nay, Conan, do not fight him. He cannot face your army nor can he attack you. Go to meet him, but do not enter Phalen’s walls.”
“He deserves to die,” Conan snarled.
“Vengeance is for the weak and pompous,” she said softly. “You are too strong. If you meet him and kill him, you will have sown the seeds for more war. Let Tedric be. He is too foolish and wicked to survive.”
“Then you would have the bastard go free?” Conan asked incredulously.
“He will be justly punished. But you are not his judge. Do not plan to attack him, Sir Conan.”
“And give him Phalen?”
“Bring your witnesses and call upon your friend and teacher, Theodoric, to stand and hear your charges. Take your evidence of Tedric’s treachery to Phalen after the lady is free. Send a message to Tedric from Phalen’s walls and ask him to answer to the charges. Order him to loose your lands from his hold.”
“Theodoric supports his son,” Conan argued.
“Theodoric yearns for peace, as Alaric does. Bring your father and Theodoric together. You are the only one who can mend the tear in their friendship.”
“And if Tedric will not yield my lands? If he will not leave without a fight?” Conan asked.
“Your oath as a knight forces you to defend innocence. You must protect the lady, protect your friends and family--protect yourself. Defend and honor, Sir Conan. Defend and honor. Do not attack and destroy.”
“‘Twill be difficult to meet Tedric on peaceful ground and--�
�� Conan stopped abruptly. The crystal lost its glimmer and the room began to brighten. Before his eyes, the crystal became an ordinary rock and the woman aged, her skin wrinkling as he watched her, and her kindly gray eyes turning dull and small.
“Reach the lady quickly, Sir Conan,” she implored, her voice sounding weaker and rougher.
Conan looked at her curiously. “You said you saw the need to protect your life for now--now, the day that you would show me the way to free the lady and liberate my lands?”
Giselle shrugged, feeling tired and weak. “I doubt that things could have been very different for you--until now. In truth, I could not ever foresee my purpose in this until you came to me. But I could see that there was a purpose. Without my urging, you would have ridden to Phalen, and the lady--” She looked up at him with tired eyes. “Lady Chandra, sir knight. Go quickly.”
He looked at the rock. “And that?”
“It is done,” she said softly.
***
Slightly over one hundred armored men stood about the courtyard at Anselm Keep. Shields bearing the blazon of Sir Conan shone in the sun, and full battle gear hung from the ready steeds. Although Alaric’s armor was old and had been retired for many years, it now shone like new. Galen, garbed in the fine mail that he kept perfect, stood beside his father. Conan’s supplies and implements of battle were stacked neatly beside his horse, and two squires stood ready to help him don his heavy mail.
“Galen, you will ride with fifty men. Can you bear the command?”
“Yea, Sir Conan,” he answered proudly.
“Surround Phalen Castle and allow no one to leave or enter. Do not fight except in defense of your life.”
Conan turned to his father. “Take twenty mounted men and ride to Theodoric. Deliver him this message,” he said, handing his father the rolled parchment. “He was the first to teach me justice and honor. Tell him I am prepared to meet Tedric and make any wrongs against him right. Ask Theodoric to stand as witness to this conference.”
“Do you think it wise to stand before Tedric’s father and accept the blame for the child?”
“Was this not Tedric’s wish from the first?” Conan said. “Was it not his plan to oppose me long before marriage to Chandra was thought of? He wanted Phalen from the first--he did not love Edwina. Was it to place himself beside me and await the perfect moment to oppose me, not only setting himself against me, but our families against one another? And did he kill the Jew to free my mother of her debt, or in hopes that I would accuse him and stand shamed before my king? And Chandra--has he held her only because I would gladly have taken her? Has the child I sired become his victory?”