How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel
Page 13
Stephen, out of breath, met him at the foot of the stairs. “There’s a bishop here to see you.”
Glowering at the young man, he said, “I believe I may have noticed. Could you quickly run into the village and ask Ann to stay out of sight? Her life may well depend on it.”
“It’s too late. When last I looked, she was already halfway across the lawn and nigh through the door.”
He cursed when he heard her voice greet the devil incarnate. “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? My husband is still, no doubt, irked with you. And what a surprise. The Bishop of North Cumberland. I don’t believe we’ve met, although I’ve heard that miracles abound in your presence. How is it that my humble manor is worthy of your esteemed visit?”
“Move aside, woman. Where’s your husband?”
Marcus crossed the large room and stepped through the double doors. The fat bishop already had a vice-like grip on his wife’s soft shoulder. He gave him an evil stare and wished the man to hell. “I’m here, sir. And unlike my wife, we have met.”
She started to speak, but he unclamped the bishop’s fingers and shoved her into the arms of the waiting Thomas, who chastised her as he all but dragged her up the stairs. “For once, stay quiet lady and let your husband negotiate. You’ve no idea what that man is capable of.”
His heart stopped pounding and his breath settled when her chamber door slammed tight and he heard the bolt slide into place.
The bishop struck his miter to the ground, like the devil’s own fork. “I’d like to discuss some things with your wife.”
“No doubt you would, but I won’t have it.” Marcus moved his right hand to his sword.
His visitor’s fat face turned apple red. “Excuse me? Are you forbidding me?”
Gripping the hilt, Marcus made a grand gesture of sliding it out a bit. “Aye, sir. I believe I am.”
“Mayhap you don’t understand how much peril your soul is in at this moment.”
Marcus counted to ten while considering how much force it would take to behead the bastard. “It’s not my soul that currently concerns me. It’s my wife.”
The bishop grew a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and his body signs read of a wild dog in heat.
Impatient with the farce, Marcus fully freed his sword, causing the bishop’s color to deepen, turning an extraordinary shade of violet. “Abernathy claims she’s a witch. I need to pursue the possibility.”
Turning, he shook his ornate Bishop’s crosier at the villagers gathering in the square and shouted, “I’ll have you and your town excommunicated.”
The simple townsfolk dropped to their knees and crossed themselves. Damnation. Making sure he could be heard across the green, he said, “Be calm. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
“What do you have to bargain with? The church always has need of donations. Why not invite me in? Or would you rather His Holiness know how I’ve been treated.” His eyes began to gleam, he licked his lips, and spittle drooled out of the side of his mouth.
“Edward is much closer in proximity than His Holiness. Be that as it may, let’s be off to the abbey where we can talk about matters of God, under His roof.” He held back a curse, led them both toward the church, and made a point of marching through the bishop’s men. Thomas grinned, stepping in behind him, with sword drawn. He waited in the green with the archers, whose bowstrings were still taut and well-aimed.
“I suggest we start by setting a truce, lest my men tire and let arrows loose.”
Waving his scepter, the bishop nodded at his men. Marcus followed with a shrill whistle. The archers relaxed their bows, but fingers stayed upon strings. All eyed each other with mistrust.
Brother James and John watched the whole scene warily, meeting them at the well. To Marcus’ intense displeasure, both his holy men knelt and kissed the ring of the bishop. Then he saw, under their cloaks, they were mailed and heavily armed. He smiled. Trust in God. Better yet? Trust He will hold your arm strong in battle.
James threw him a quick nod, then turned toward the bishop. “What brings you to our humble estates, Your Excellency?”
“I suspect you already know.” He slammed his staff upon the first stone step of the church with a clunk.
Marcus considered breaking the damn crosier over the man’s head.
James, however, rested against the stone wall of the abbey, his eyes sharp, and his hand ready. “Nary has a word reached me as of late. I’m afraid we’re rather remote, here in the bowels of England.”
The bishop pointed a gnarled finger back toward the manor. “Nonsense. You know who I’m here to take. The Lady Ann is an accused witch and an unholy murderous wench. The church will need to intervene and take on these lands as our own in order to cleanse the evil.”
Marcus’ hand itched as he began to move toward his sword’s hilt once again.
James stopped him with an almost imperceptible shake of the head and motioned them all into the church. “Mayhap you would pray with me while we talk. It would not be seemly to discuss such evil things while not under God’s watchful gaze.”
Without waiting for an answer, he led them down the center of two rows of ten pews. On a raised rectangle of white marble, a stone altar was draped by a pristine, white wool cloth. A simple, yet perfectly carved wood cross of the Savior hung on the wall behind. Four green marble columns, leftover from a pagan temple, framed the four corners of the altar.
He turned to stare across the pews and over the entry door from whence they came. Marcus bowed his head. What was James up to?
“Oh, Lord.” The holy man raised his arms ever-so-slowly causing wide sleeves to slide down to his elbows. In that glorious moment, the interior of the church lit miraculously in hues of blue and red. The rose window above the arch glowed in holy splendor.
The bishop gasped. “Dear God, almighty!”
How had he not noticed before? Marcus exhaled, enchanted by the sight.
It was some time before the bishop regained his senses. “Where did you get that … that glass? Stained glass in your mud-hole of a church. It isn’t right. There isn’t anything of such worth in all of London.”
“Sir Marcus, here, donated it.”
“Never.” The bishop stood with his mouth all agape, displaying holes where teeth should be.
James nodded with a holier-than-thou smile, folded his hands piously, but turned a grand smirk for Marcus’ eyes only. “Oh, yes. He brought it in pieces from the holy lands. We assembled it here.”
Following the lead set by James, Marcus affected the same noble, somewhat bored, tone that he had practiced with Abernathy just days before. Opening both hands in a small gesture of supplication, he said, “It wasn’t anything, really, a small token.”
“But certainly a gift such as this should be in a bigger church, a holier place.” The bishop walked further down the aisle to stare and the rest followed.
“Mayhap such as your church, Your Holiness?” Marcus covered his mouth to hide the wide grin.
“Well, now that you say so.” He turned so abruptly, such that they almost collided. “Yes. Like mine.”
“But I don’t suppose that a gift from a man, who was married to a witch, would be acceptable to a man of God such as you?” He lowered his gaze, clasped his hands together, and knelt down to face the altar. The whole bizarre scene was more than amusing. He bit into his praying hands, but his body began to wrack with laughter.
“Mayhap I was a bit over-zealous in my haste to speak with the Lady Ann.” The Bishop laid his hand upon Marcus head, obviously thinking him tearful in remorse. God almighty, the farce was funnier than hell.
James joined them at the back of the church and tapped him on the shoulder. “Stand, my son. Weep no more. God has shown us the way. I believe that the Lord of the Meadows has even more of this glass that he brought with him from his travels. Is that not true, m’lord?”
James nudged him hard, but it only caused him to break out in a mighty guffaw. At the las
t minute, he managed to turn it into an anguished cry. Coming off his knees and wiping off real tears, albeit ones of mirth, he nodded and found a voice. “I may have more.”
“A full windows worth?” The piggy man’s eyes widened.
James nodded. “Surely, he would.”
Marcus stuck his hand out before he’d have to laugh again. “It’s agreed upon. We’re at peace. I’m sure your men would like to refresh themselves. Then feel free to be our guests for the evening meal tonight. I’ll ask my steward to see to your needs.”
After the bishop waddled happily away to meet with his men in the square. Marcus asked James, “How say you that I could give that wretched man a glass window?”
“You’ve a glazier in your town.”
“But a piece like that window might take a lifetime to complete.”
“I suggest you bring it to him, a piece at a time.” James snickered.
“Aye. That I shall.” Marcus laughed but stifled it when the bishop glanced back. He quickly put his hands to his lips, as if in holy prayer.
When the arse’s behind finally made his exit, Marcus continued, “Tis good to have you at my back. I can’t wait to have those dung beetles out of my town.”
“I’ll do my best to hasten their leave.”
“Just a moment.” He whistled, Thomas looked up and Marcus indicated with a hand signal to stay at readiness. Then he shouted, “Send me Stephen!”
Thomas waved back, indicating he understood.
“Sorry, James. You were saying?”
“The guest rooms have no fresh hay, having not been in use for over a year. I suspect one night on the cold floor with beetle-infested thatch will rush them out. I’d also suggest you delay your breaking-of-fast until mid-day. As one final added incentive, I can make morning matins dreadfully long and tiresome.”
“Oh, dear God. Mayhap the rack would be more welcome. With your help, we should have them running from our lands by the time the sun reaches its peak.”
He sobered when he thought upon Ann and their last encounter. “Will you walk with me?
They meandered to the front door of the church. The style was familiar, but instead of shepherds, the carvings were of saints.
“Many nights, the Lady wakes with dream terrors.”
“Not too unusual in a woman who has come to extreme misfortunes.”
They walked down the three stone steps toward his manor. The sun had again ducked under clouds and for a second time, he had to marvel at James’ timing of the window scene. “Did her father really mean for her and her mother to starve when he left?
“Only God knows the knight’s true intent. He went through the small town, house by house, taking everything, but thatch.”
Marcus shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”
“That’s not the half of it. When winter came and she looked to find food in the cellars, there was none. He’d even removed the roots and dried meats. The peasants pounded on her door, demanding that she feed them. At one point, I thought I’d take her in as a novice, just to protect her, but then the miracle happened.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Come now, surely you’re not saying—”
James held up a hand. “Stay that thought. I suspect you’ve seen the worst of the world through the eyes of a hardened soldier, as have I.”
“Aye, war can beat the soul to dust.” They greeted Barnabas, stationed to guard the well. A knife stood ready in one hand, and his other rounded about the hilt of his sword.
“Good man.”
Most of the Bishop’s men had found the bathhouse so that’s where their feet took them. James continued once they were in private. “When I came back to England after my duties in the Holy Crusades, I decided I’d do my penance by making peace. Hoping God would forgive the atrocities I’d performed in his name.”
He looked to Marcus as if expecting him to agree, but he only shrugged. “Being a man of God, you’d know better than I.”
“No matter. When I tell you of a miracle, you know my life is hewn from similar stone as yours. I’d not believe God capable of intervening.”
“She said she found coin in the bathhouse.” This story was taking way too long in the telling.
He smiled. “She may be starting to trust you.”
“Maybe, but nary a word about how much or if there was even more to be had. You think there is more?”
“Aye, I do.”
He stirred uncomfortably and stopped. They were almost upon the bathhouse. “By God, where’d she hide it?”
“I know not and it worries me fully. Although I’ve been very careful, the coins are solid gold. Not much about them is common to this area. To use them, one needs to pound them unrecognizable. Even so, rumors abound that these pieces have come from her estates.”
“Abernathy. She told me last night she’d recently given something to him to hold off his assaults.”
The priest swore under his breath. “He’s continued to up the price for keeping his men out of the area. He’s become even bolder since the death of Underhill. She may have been forced to give him another coin without my knowledge.”
“We could be in grave danger, here. Be vigilant.”
“Go with God.”
“I hope so.”
Marcus approached Jacob, standing just outside the bathhouse. All the pools were full of filthy naked men. “How many do you count?”
“Two times ten with that many squires.”
“No others lurking about?”
“No, Sahib. That is all.”
“If you see anything amiss, no matter how small, sound the alarm. Understood?”
Jacob nodded.
“That’s a good lad.” He moved to the front of the building and shouted up at the turret where Thomas had taken watch. “Where is she?”
“She remains in her room. Did you deal with the Bishop?”
“Aye.”
Thomas surveyed the town, then shouted down, “What are they after. Surely a bunch of wooly beasts wouldn’t pull the Bishop out from his comfortable estates.”
“No, no. You’ve the right of it. I think m’lady holds the key to her own ruin.”
“And what would that be?”
“Hold that thought. I’m coming up.” Marcus noted with some glee the pigeons were mostly gone when he climbed the turret.
Thomas grabbed his hand when he reached the top. “Yes?”
“She has an ancient bag of gold Roman coins.”
He guffawed. “She conjured a bag of coins? Is that what the bishop came up with? I think he’s lost his edge.”
“It’s no jest. She’s kept hidden a bag of ancient gold and the bishop thinks to torture it out of her.”
“How did he even know of it?” Thomas thought for a moment, frowned, and they both said as one, “Abernathy.”
“Aye. She’s given him at least one coin and no doubt he suspects there are more to be had.”
“How much more is there?”
“Only Ann and the Good Lord know and neither is telling. It makes a man pause to wonder, though.”
“Interesting. And here I thought our trip to marry you off to a murdering shepherdess wench was going to be boring.” He took a fist to Marcus’ shoulder. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or thrash you.”
“Did you know she has a secret passage out of her room?” Marcus started down the turret handholds.
“You may have mentioned that.”
He paused, his head just above the floorboard. “Her room has a back entrance that leads to a tunnel under the manor all the way to the bathhouse. It was apparently built by the original Roman inhabitants.”
“In a siege, no doubt, it was very convenient.”
“Aye. And for wives escaping their husbands. Station another man near the top of the bathhouse fires. See to it that the bishop’s men are properly attended at dinner. Some ale and mayhap lots of it. I’d rather them be inebriated than longing for trouble. While they are all st
ill dopey in the morning, we will send them to a long mass, then wish them well on their journey home.”
Once at the bottom, Marcus put his eye to a slit in the turret. An unrestful nature lay upon his town like a dark cloud. “Make sure you have Stephen clear everything out of the hall except for stone, thatch, and brick and mayhap put yet another guard at the front of the baths. I trust none of the bishop’s bloody mercenaries.”
“It’s as good as done.”
“Very well. I’m going to see to her, then meet you back for sup. Keep the town safely guarded, especially the young ladies.”
“None better lay a hand on Lady Meredith or I’ll gut ‘em from neck to groin.”
“See that it doesn’t come to that. We’re already treading on dangerously thin ice with Edward.”
He lit a torch, then walked down the hall and pounded on the carved wood. “M’lady, it is I. Unbar the door.”
Ann pushed aside the heavy block with a little curse when a sliver bit into her finger. Stepping close to her husband, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head rested against the light wool of his tunic.
“I trust thou art safe?” He pushed her inside, then closed and barred the door.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for staying put.” A rough finger lifted her chin and his lips covered hers.
She nipped at the lower one to stay the intimacy longer. Once she let go, she said, “I had no idea about that bishop. Thomas told me some awful examples of his Christian endeavors.”
“You understand well enough now?”
“Aye. Enough.” The images of torture Thomas had forced into her head made her shiver. “Why would God tolerate such a horrible man?”
“God should not be blamed for the evil of man. You know this better than most.” He squeezed her tightly and some of the evil pictures in her mind’s eye drained away.
“Thank you.”
He smiled and bent lower, to fully capture her mouth. A wave of lust washed over her and she wrapped one leg around his calf. Her core moved magically closer to his rod, drawn to its lodestone.
“Thank me for what?”