"Queen Eleanor of Brittany? She was never queen," he said, thinking back to the bits of British history he knew. "She was imprisoned most of her adult life."
Edwards eyes grew wide. "B-but my lord --"
"What of Henry the Third?"
Edward frowned. "He is imprisoned, my lord, at Bristol Castle."
Erik nodded, not really understanding any of it. "So events are reversed and twisted."
The sooner he discovered what Camdork was really about, he could find Jock and depart this unwelcome and cold heap of stone. He had to convince Iliana to come with him. He had to make her remember him. Erik knew there was always a way, so he didn't ponder anything other than eventually returning to his own time. He thought of the child, surely less than a year old. Whose child?
The young maid he had seen in Iliana's room earlier was nearly halfway down the stairs, her arms laden with linens.
Erik frowned, thinking he saw a shadow moved swiftly behind her. The maid looked behind her and up the steep stairs and she began to lose her balance. Teetering precariously on the wooden steps, she looked about to fall backwards. With a screech, her arms flew upwards and neatly folded linen sailed in various directions as she attempted to keep herself from falling.
Reacting quickly, Erik lunged up the steps. His fist clenched material and he pulled her towards him. He heard the material of her tunic tear in his hand. She did not plummet down the stairs, but flung herself toward him as he heaved them toward the wall and away from the open stair. She landed heavily against him, her face inches from his own, her breasts bare and heaving upon his chest.
Pushing wispy blond strands from her eyes, for she had lost her cap, Agnes stared with wide eyes at him, then down at his arms which had crushed her to him, examining their position with something of a bold grin, and an invitation if he chose to acknowledge it as such.
"Are you all right?" Erik asked.
Agnes smiled at him shakily. "I swear I felt a hand on my back, my lord. "'Twas my own fault for not paying closer attention to where I put my feet." As if just realizing how her breasts were exposed to his view, and that of young Edward's, she made an attempt to cover them with her hands.
"Agnes! What --"
Iliana, no doubt having heard Agnes' screech, stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Erik could imagine what went through her mind. For all intents and purposes it appeared he'd waylaid her maid, torn her tunic in his eagerness, the remnants of which were still between his fingers and her bare breasts next to his hands.
"Agnes," Iliana said in a cool voice, "please cover yourself and retrieve the linens."
"Mistress --" began Edward, his voice imploring.
"Edward, I see you have found my Lord Camdork, as I asked you to do. Now I believe you are needed to help with the serving of the repast. Cook has begun to carry in trenchers."
Edward ducked his head and scooted down the hallway.
Agnes scrabbled around, trying to reach the once-clean linen she'd been carrying. She grabbed several, holding them against her breasts as she rose, then accepted the hand Erik offered, her eyes offering him silent apology.
"Agnes!"
"I am sorry mistress, but the laundress will need to clean this linen once more. Oh, 'twas my fault," Agnes babbled, "in truth I was not looking --"
Iliana advanced down the stairs. "Agnes, leave us," she said patiently.
The maid fled.
Iliana looked him as he remained unmoving on the stairs.
"Perhaps you think to enjoy all the young women in this castle," she bit out furiously, "but I will not have it. You will respect my wishes not to be made a fool of and leave the women of Dutton Keep alone. Neither shall you be such an influence on young Edward. If you cannot contain yourself, I ask you to find a willing woman outside these walls."
Erik lifted a brow. "You wish for me to do my wenching outside these walls?"
"Exactly," Iliana said. "And it is quite unseemly we should have this discussion." She clenched her hands together. "Please cover your chest."
Erik looked down. The material of his tunic gaped, and apparently it did not please the lady as she frowned in annoyance.
With an exasperated mutter, she turned and traced her steps back to the great hall where tables were now laden with food. He caught up with her.
"Iliana. I believe Agnes was pushed --"
She looked at him. "By whom?"
"I don't know. I saw a dark shadow --"
"She said she took a misstep."
"I know what I saw."
"And should I believe you?"
"I do not lie," he said softly. "I am not Camdork," he added for her ears alone.
"You will excuse me." She turned away.
With a sigh, Erik caught up with her. "I would escort you."
She turned her shoulder to him. "I do not think I can eat," she said with icy disdain. "I find I no longer have an appetite."
"That is a shame," he said patiently. "It smells quite inviting. I have not eaten since yesterday, so I will take my leave and join the men."
"Wait." She halted, bit her lip and looked up at him. "How long do you and your men intend to stay here? Surely you have interests that will take you elsewhere?"
He sensed the emotion churning in her. No doubt she wanted them gone. "I thought you knew." He made his words slow and measured. "I plan to remain for some time. I am charged with seeing to the care of the keep and its lands, and also the lady of the keep."
She stepped away from him. "But surely there is more important business for you to attend to -- the queen's business?"
He shook his head. "Alas, no."
Erik left her standing there. No doubt she was caught in a tangle of emotion and confusion. What more could he do but show his true colors. Surely, she would see he was not that scoundrel?
¤¤
Iliana stared after Camdork with burning eyes. Nothing was as it seemed with this man. One moment he played the gentlemen, the next he was rutting after the maid.
Iliana needed a walk outside to clear her head. She needed guidance, but of late, it was sorely lacking. If only she could find the green gem, the treasure -- that was the key to her mission being completed. She would be released from this prison; it was just all becoming too much for her to bear. And what of William? He must come with her. She could never leave her child behind. But what if he were not allowed to come with her? What then?
The sounds of revelry and shouts from Camdork's men in the hall below stirred her ire until the late hours. She wondered did he remain until the wee hours celebrating their upcoming marriage. With a disgusted snort, Iliana imagined he did not. More than likely he'd sought out Agnes, or some other comely maiden to spend the night with.
As Iliana went about her duties that evening, she gritted her teeth until her jaws ached. The man had no sense of honor, no respect, no character. Clearly, he was a threat to her and the people of the keep. He would interfere with her mission, and she could not have that. The people under her care would be at risk. The man's reputation alone demanded she remain alert, and when the time was right, she must take action. The taking of a human life did not sit well, but she knew there was no other choice. This time she must act.
¤¤
"My lord, please, wait up, I canna see you, 'tis no moon tonight." Agnes hurried after him in the dark, excited but a bit unnerved by the darkness around them, especially as they moved outside the protection of the village walls.
He made no reply, merely pulled his dark hood closer, but Agnes was gratified when he put out a hand and grabbed hers tightly. Camdork pulled her strongly into the shadow of the trees, his arm snaking about her waist, pulling her hard and tight up to him. She gasped, her breath knocked from her, but then she smiled. She caught a brief glimpse of his light hair before his hands were all over her, pulling down her blouse and then his hands were at her waist, pinching and ripping at her garments.
"Truth to tell, my Lord Camdork," she laughed br
eathlessly, "I wasn't certain of this, me being maid to her ladyship and all -- your affianced. Earlier you did not appear interested. Verily, Mistress Iliana has been most kind. I do not wish to hurt her."
"Your mistress is a comely wench," he rasped in a low whisper, lowering the girl to the stony ground. She put up a hand as pebbles bit into her scalp.
"But come, we have other more important issues to discuss, such as where we left off from only this morning." His mouth dropped to hers, hard and bruising, his heavy weight pushing her punishingly into the stony ground.
Agnes giggled, then put her arms around him, surprised by his rough clothing, allowing the slight stirrings of guilt to be washed away by passion. He pulled her cloak back, ripping at the coarse linen tunic beneath the fine material, until his fingers touched her skin again. Punishingly, he gripped the flesh of her abdomen between his fingers and twisted the flesh.
"My lady," he gritted.
¤¤
Iliana searched for Agnes early the next morning. The girl had not shown herself as she was wont to do upon day break. Cook was also disturbed by the girl's absence, having requested her help for the noontide meal. Morning had come and gone before Iliana had news of the girl, and then she wished she had not.
"Mistress," Rowenna, one of the kitchen maids, waylaid Iliana as she prepared to make her way across the cobbled courtyard, William on her hip. Iliana was intent upon reaching the postern door before anyone made note of her presence. Camdork and his men were paired off, engaged in an exchange of swordplay before a lustily wagering crowd which had gathered in the courtyard, some of which included villagers.
"Yes, Rowenna?" Iliana halted, her eyes darting quickly to the tall, blond headed man it the courtyard, then just as swiftly back to the young girl.
"Cook said as how you was looking for Agnes, and --" the girl hesitated, eyes downcast. Iliana gave her full attention to the girl, something in her manner making her uneasy.
"Yes, Rowenna, what troubles you?"
The young girl's eyes briefly rested upon the two men and their flashing swords, then she looked up at her mistress with tears in her eyes, "It is Agnes. I fear she ran off last night. She had it in her head to spend time with my lord."
"Who?" Despite the heat of the sun, a coldness seeped through Iliana.
"I dare not speak of it, mistress, for I know not for sure."
Urgently, Iliana urged the younger girl under the shadow of the wine cellar entrance.
"Tell me. I shall not betray your confidence." They moved further into the shadows. "Please know that you can trust me to keep my word." The young girl turned to watch the two men who now lunged at each other across the courtyard, one blond headed, one dark headed, both deadly intent on besting the other.
"'Twas him, mistress," her voice was a mere whisper, her eyes large and frightened, "'twas him Agnes went to meet."
A knot twisted within her stomach as her eyes followed the direction of Anna's trembling finger. The sword play was finished, one man standing victor over the other, a half grin upon his lips. As Iliana watched with a strange fascination, Camdork accepted a goblet from one of his men at arms, tossing the contents back, then raising his fist in a gesture of victory, before leaning forward to offer a hand to the man who knelt defeated on the ground.
"The man on the ground?" Iliana queried, her voice hopeful.
"Nay, mistress." Anna twisted her hands with great agitation, the words wrenched from her, "It was my Lord Camdork. I am so very sorry," she ended in a whisper. "Agnes was bound and determined to meet with him. She laughed when we warned her of what we heard of his mean ways."
Iliana took William in her arms, burying her face in his sweet-scented neck. Then, tightlipped, she made her way across the courtyard, ignoring Camdork's men and slipping through the postern door, ignoring him as he called her name.
Damn his soul! She had warned him. He was determined to make a fool of her in her own home. Poor Agnes. Iliana walked aimlessly among the trees, her mind in turmoil. She hugged William closer to her breast, tears blinding her as she stumbled. She stopped, blinking quickly. It would not do for her to fall, hurting both she and the baby. Gently, she brushed back his dark hair, smiling into his face as he gave her his endearing toothless grin.
She had only gone a short distance when her path was blocked by one of Camdork's men at arms. She had noticed him in the courtyard upon occasion, his size bigger than any of the other men, his dark eyes fierce, and unruly black hair and beard not easily forgotten.
When she would have gone around him, he stepped back into her path, his size intimidating as he gestured back the way she had come.
She put her chin up. "Sir, let me pass."
"It is better if you return the way you came, my lady Iliana."
She looked at him suspiciously and tried to look around him. "What are you hiding? Why may I not pass?"
"There has been an accident," he said, his voice gruff.
"Move aside," she said.
"My lady --"
"Now."
Iliana moved past him, following a path into heavy brush. It was only a short distance later that she found the thick-soled slipper. Bending to retrieve the lone slipper, Iliana suddenly saw someone lying beside the edge of the trees where the brush grew lighter, a grey cloak twisted about long legs. Iliana immediately recognized the cloak she had given Agnes, who had none of her own to ward off chill night and mornings. It fell gravely short on the girl, barely covering her knees.
"Agnes," Iliana chided, "have you slept out here all night?" Iliana moved closer, shifting William to her other hip as she bent down to shake the young girl. She drew back with a startled exclamation as one of Agnes' hands fell limply across her naked stomach, the fingertips scarlet with blood. She took another step back, horrified. Blood was everywhere.
Iliana could now see Agnes' eyes stared lifelessly upward.
Blindly, Iliana turned to flee, but she was caught from behind and held. Heart pounding so fiercely she thought she should collapse, Iliana looked up into green eyes.
Camdork.
She clutched the baby closer to her chest.
Beyond him, she saw the black-haired giant.
¤¤
"Iliana, are you all right?"
She threw her head up. "You dare to ask me?" she hissed. "Perhaps you know what befell poor misguided Agnes?"
Erik narrowed his eyes, taking in the scene behind her. "Good God --" He looked at her. "What would I know? There lies your poor maid, apparently brutally murdered --"
"Verily she is dead. Will you tell me you did not know it?"
Erik pulled her away from the dead girl. She tried to twist free, but he would have none of it, forcing her before him. Several people, no doubt hearing the commotion, began to walk toward them, led by Rowenna and Thomas the carpenter.
"Thomas," Iliana directed as the man came running from the keep, to see what was causing the curiosity, "see that poor Agnes is brought to her father's house." The man immediately rushed forward. He looked at Camdork, then away, his face pale.
"I will gather some fellows to help me," he mumbled. He walked back the way he'd come. "Agnes would not listen."
"What do you mean?" Iliana called after him, but there was no answer as Thomas walked toward the village, his shoulders slumped.
"My lady Iliana," Camdork said, "come away."
Iliana turned to him. "Scoundrel, son of a pig, loathsome bacon-brain --"
"Enough!" He pulled her up against him, ignoring her struggles. He lifted William away from her and into his own arms.
"Give me my son," she said furiously.
"Why would you think I know about this?" he asked, jostling William until the boy began to chuckle with glee.
"Why? Do you think I am some little pea goose without a thought in her head? I have seen the glances Agnes was wont to cast your way. Do not ply me with an untruth, declaring you have no knowledge of what happened. I have seen it with my own eyes. I am not daft."
"It appears you are," he said coldly, gritting his teeth. "What is it that you have seen except poor Agnes lying there dead? Did you see me place her lifeless body there? Did you see me brutalize the girl?"
"Give me my son." She could not snatch her son back, and in truth, he was grinning with delight as now Camdork gently swung him to and fro.
"So now you accuse me of murder, Iliana?"
Iliana did not speak, but her eyes wide with horror surely gave him his answer. Her glance fixated on the talon like marks across his throat and collarbone where dried blood flecked the skin.
"Your neck," she said.
"I earned those training in the courtyard, though no doubt you will not believe me."
Iliana held out her shaking hands and Camdork placed William in her arms. With the baby held close, she hurried back toward the castle.
She glared at the dark giant as she passed him. He had known Agnes was there, that's why he'd blocked her path. He was Camdork's man.
¤¤
Iliana paced. She needed time to think...time to decide her next course of action. Her greatest fears had come to fruition. There was no doubt she was betrothed to a murderer of innocent women. But then what had she expected? She knew his reputation. Had she actually harbored doubts that his evil nature was a lie?
Iliana felt actual physical pain, her mind whirling with terrible thoughts. How could she protect anyone if a murderer took control of the land and the people, turning everything black and foul?
Once inside, Iliana fed William his lunch, gently guiding his chubby baby fingers to the trencher full of cut up vegetables and fruit. He was in a playful mood today, slapping at his food rather than putting it in his mouth. She took the small pieces of vegetables and buzzed them around his face and ears, watching his eyes follow her movements, until he voluntarily opened his mouth and she'd pop some food inside. Laughing with his deep chuckle, he put his head back, waiting for the game to begin again. Iliana smiled, letting herself forget what she had seen earlier as they played in gentle innocence.
Her little William. So precious, her child, born one hot summer night. He was still one of the mysteries of her life here. She had been gifted with this delightful child, but how she had even become with child remained a mystery. It had caused her great angst in the beginning, to discover herself pregnant, but even her life tapestry had hidden the truth from her. There had been a time where she lay ill for three weeks, and when she began to recover from the strange illness, she began to notice the changes in her body. Frantically, she had searched her life tapestry, but the finely woven cloth had refused to let her see that time. It remained blurred, as if a protective covering had been placed over the memory.
Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) Page 7