“Art thou chilled?” Demetrius lifted her to the seat. “I can offer my cloak.”
“Nay.” She scooted to one side, but his massive frame occupied more than half the space, and his thigh brushed her skirts. “Rather, I am nervous, as I know not what to expect.”
“Then thou should follow my lead, as I suffered the pomp and pageantry before, when Arucard wed Isolde.” He squeezed her fingers, and she started. “If thou wilt but trust me, I shall endeavor to spare us any missteps and embarrassment.”
“But we scarcely know each other.” A rut in the road jostled her, and she almost landed in his lap. “And thou didst profess no desire to take me to wife.”
“And as I recall, thou didst share my sentiment, so thou art one to talk.” His nostrils flared as he gazed at her, and she cowered. “But the deed is done, and I am thy lord and master. Given thy strict upbringing at the convent, I suspect ye art proficient in following commands. Henceforth, thou shalt hold thy tongue until thou art given permission to speak.”
Now that stung, but she could not argue his point, as the law defined her as property and his authority reigned supreme over her. So she remained silent, as they negotiated the narrow streets of London.
Soon the caravan neared the palace, and they passed through the main gate and came to a halt in the bailey. In silence, Demetrius handed her to the drive, and together they followed the crowd into the massive royal residence.
In the Great Hall, musicians played an elegant tune, as the revelers piled high their trenchers, with tempting selections of fish, meat, and chicken and an array of boiled roots. To her dismay, her master prepared another ample portion for her and collected two goblets of spiced clarrey from an opulent fountain unlike anything she had ever seen, as she remained in his wake.
On the dais, the King rumbled with mirth, and merrymakers spread infectious cheer, yet Athelyna joined not in the celebration of her nuptials. As a dutiful bride, she held her tongue just as her husband bade. But inside she screamed at the unfairness of her situation.
“Thou dost not eat, sister.” Isolde sampled a bite of fish covered in a thick wine sauce, closed her eyes, and hummed. “Oh, pykes in brasey, my favorite. Thou should take a taste, as it is divine.”
As Demetrius had not yet granted permission to dine, Athelyna awaited his consent, for fear of inciting his temper. When Isolde studied Athelyna for a few minutes, she shifted beneath the scrutiny.
“Is something wrong, my lady?” Arucard inquired of his wife. “Shall I fetch ye a sweetmeat?”
“Wherefore doth our relation not speak?” The graceful noblewoman stared at Demetrius, who cleared his throat but responded not. “Sir Demetrius, hath thy mate been struck by some mysterious illness that hath rendered her mute?”
In that instant, Demetrius leaned to the side and whispered, “Thou mayest converse.”
“Thou mayest converse?” Isolde set down her glass, with a thud. “Did I hear ye correctly?”
Arucard winced. “Isolde—”
“Nay.” She shook her head. “Sir Demetrius, thy lady is neither slave nor servant, and thou wilt not treat her as such, else I shall never again cook another brewet in this lifetime.”
Athelyna feared she might swoon, as a heretofore-unknown ally defended her.
“Isolde, it is not thy place to intrude on their privacy.” Arucard peered at Demetrius and frowned. “My brother must define the terms of his union, as he sees fit.”
“Is that so?” Isolde exhaled and rolled her shoulders. “Well the same goes for my blancmange, if the lord of Chichester Castle allows such an affront to humanity and virtue to occur beneath our roof and to stain our conscience, and neither shall I participate in nor condone the indignity.”
Arucard grumbled and rubbed his temple. “Demetrius.”
That was it.
A singular invocation imbued with a wealth of meaning in a name.
Painful quiet fell on their little gathering, and Athelyna braced for her husband’s response, which she suspected might involve violence. Would he tumble the setting? Would he initiate a brawl?
To her unutterable shock, her spouse propped his elbows on the table and sighed. “My lady wife, I revoke my previous order.”
The swift reversal of fortune played as some divine comedy, and nervous anxiety bubbled forth as uncontrollable laughter, until she held her stomach and gasped for breath. Wave upon wave of mirth swept through her, and she yielded to the tittering spasms, which alleviated her stress. The tension investing her spine loosened its iron grip, and she relaxed.
“Art thou unwell?” With an expression of sympathy, Isolde clutched Athelyna’s fingers. “Dost thou prefer Adam’s ale?”
“Thank ye, but nay.” Suddenly ravenous, Athelyna scooped a morsel of fish, even as she snatched a piece of bread, which she shoved into her mouth. For the next few minutes, she digested more food in that one sitting than she had in the past two days. Before her body rebelled, and she revisited the meal, she pushed back and reclined in her chair. “Thank ye, for thy kindness, Isolde.”
“Thou art most welcome.” Arucard’s wife folded her arms and arched a brow. “Thou shalt always enjoy safe harbor in my home. And when we return to Chichester, we shall discuss thy role in the household, as I would have ye never doubt thither is a place for ye.”
“As an oblate, I have longed to tend the people of this great country, and I assisted the physic, as a caregiver, at the convent.” Mayhap the circumstances were not as dire as Athelyna previously thought. “It would be my honor to serve ye, in the same capacity.”
“Then it is settled, and I will speak to my staff, upon our return.” Isolde offered a curt nod, as a formidable warrior on some invisible battlefield, and Athelyna reminded herself never to argue with the noblewoman. “Mayhap thou will rest easy now.”
“Indeed.” Athelyna laughed. “And I shall do my best to preserve thy good opinion.”
In that instant, the music ended, and His Majesty stood. “It is time for Lady Athelyna to retire, in preparation to receive Sir Demetrius. Guards, escort the bride to her accommodations.”
And so fled her calm.
DEMETRIUS
CHAPTER FOUR
“I am not ready for this.” Contemplating the impending consummation of his vows, Demetrius downed the last of his wine and waved for a refill. The mere contemplation of his loss of virginity, and thereby his purity, inspired naught but a violent shudder of raw terror. Had he not surrendered enough since the Inquisition? “Do not think me a coward, but I cannot do it, brother.”
“Easy, my friend.” After the servant poured a healthy quantity, which almost breached the rim, Arucard snatched the goblet from Demetrius’s grasp. “And if thou dost continue to consume such beverages, thou wilt ensure ye art physically incapable of performing the deed.”
“Then return my glass, as I would have an excuse for my failure.” He noted the King summoned the guards, which signaled the imminent dispatch to his accommodations and Athelyna, and Demetrius instead claimed Arucard’s drink and downed the contents. “We should have remained in France and burned at the stake, as loyal retainers of our faith, which seems a far more preferable, not to mention less painful, fate at the moment.”
“Thou dost make too much of thy position, as our comrades were branded heretics, sexual deviants, and condemned to hell, thus I am happy with my match, as I love Isolde.” Arucard snickered and claimed his bride’s hand. “And only an inexperienced man would make such an erroneous statement, as thither is much to be savored in connubial intimacy and the sweet paradise manifested at the apex of thy wife’s thighs. If thou dost give Athelyna a chance, thou might grow a deep and abiding devotion between ye, which is incomparable in its strength and splendor. But, as thy bride is untried, it is safe to presume she brings low expectations to the marital bed, so just remember my counsel.” He counted on his fingers. “First, exercise patience. Second, be gentle. Third, talk to her, as polite conversation will put her at ease.�
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“I vomited and fainted before a royal audience, and thou art worried about putting her at ease?” He quivered at the recollection, and he doubted his fellow knights would ever let him forget his shame. “Morgan was right. I should have permitted Matild to school me in carnal knowledge, as I know not whither to begin.”
“Thither thou dost have me.” Glancing from side to side, Arucard leaned forward. “May I make a suggestion?”
“When hast thou not?” Demetrius shrugged. “And, all things considered, I cannot afford to offend ye, as thou hast gone whither I fear to tread, so dispense thy advice, absent depreciative humor.”
“Grant thy bride, and thereby thyself, a deferment.” Tugging at the collar of his tunic, Arucard whistled. “Trust me, it was the best possible course of action, when I faced similar quandary. As Isolde and I were complete strangers on our wedding day, I vouchsafed a period of adjustment that we might become better acquainted prior to joining our bodies.”
“And it made a difference?” Various scenarios played in his brain, and he composed an entreaty that might sway Athelyna. “To be honest, the idea appeals to me.”
“I gathered it would.” With a grin, Arucard peered at Isolde, as she stood and made the rounds of the gathering. “And it made all the difference in the world with my bride. Believe me, thy lady is worth the wait, as was mine.” Then he sobered and gulped. “And hither comes the guard, so I wish ye a pleasant eventide, brother.”
“Oh, no.” Demetrius clutched the edge of the table, as the room seemed to spin out of control. Swallowing the fast rising bitterness in this throat, he lurched upright, composed himself, and addressed his escort. “Good sirrahs, let us away.”
Yet the brief stroll to his private apartment struck him as a death march, and the simple existence he cherished seemed to crumble beneath his feet, as pebbles on a path to destruction, with each successive step, until he halted before the heavy door to his quarters.
“I bid ye a satisfying night, Sir Demetrius.” Briarus chortled, as did a few soldiers, and Demetrius just rolled his eyes and took safe haven in his solar.
An eerie quiet filled the room, as a blaze crackled in the hearth. The portal to the inner suite was shut, so he took a moment to gather his wits and summon courage. Stiffening his spine, he walked toward what he considered his doom but veered to the right at the last second.
With palms pressed to the tabletop, he inhaled several deep breaths, as the floor seemed to rock beneath his feet. Considering his longstanding heritage, he sought a reprieve. At last, he sighed and sat in the large chair near the fireplace. Propping his elbow on the armrest, he cupped his chin in his palm and stared into the flames. Everything inside him screamed in denial of the future the Crown planned, and he clenched his jaw. “I cannot do this. I cannot yield that which I have upheld for so long, as already I have surrendered so much.”
As usual, Arucard offered sage guidance, and Demetrius decided he could linger and evade no more. Standing, he stretched tall and rubbed the small of his back. No coward, he resolved to discuss options with his bride, that they might strike an accord, given he had no expectancy of fostering a path to wedded bliss similar to that his friend found with Isolde. And he had yet to divulge his great secret, his sin that might impair her path to salvation. So he would keep his suppositions low.
It was with that thought in mind that he pushed on the door, and it moved not. He thrust and shoved, but the thick oak panel did not budge, and he knocked. “Athelyna, it appears the portal is stuck. Wilt thou offer assistance?”
“Nay, it is not stuck,” she replied. “It is locked.”
“Wherefore hast thou banished me from my bedchamber?” Huffing a breath of frustration, he rested fists to hips and shifted his weight. “Grant entry, now.”
“I will not,” quick as a wink she replied.
“My lady wife, thou wilt obey me, at once.” When naught happened, he studied the ceiling and the ornamental woodwork, gave vent to a groan, and speared his hair. “Art thy ears impaired? Dost thou not speak English?”
“My ears work fine, Sir Demetrius, and I am fluent in the language, as thou dost well know,” she responded, in a clipped tone. “Mayhap thou canst sleep in the solar, as it hath been a trying day.”
“Thou art correct, in that it hath been an arduous time—” A feminine shriek silenced him.
“Thou dost consider marriage to me arduous?” she inquired, with an unmistakable sob of distress. “Have I thus encumbered thee?”
“That is not what I meant.” He winced, as it was too late when he realized he had just insulted his bride. “Prithee, take no offense.”
Mournful cries formed a foreboding audial tapestry, which echoed in the suite, and he searched for a way into the inner chamber. After several pleas for reason and composure, he ceded the battle and retreated to ponder the possibilities. Moonlight cut a silvery swath across the floor, and he peered beyond the mullioned glass and the second floor vantage. A stone ledge offered a fortuitous foothold and appealed to his adventurous nature.
A minute later, Demetrius perched on the narrow shelf and wondered what had come over him, as he slid to the next window. As he took another sidestep, he caught his toe on the uneven surface, wobbled precariously above the bailey, grasped the sill, and sucked in a breath. On a wing and a fervent plea, he admired the clear night sky and the shimmering stars, as he struggled to quell his hammering heart. “Thither must be an easier way to fulfill my duties.”
Once he reached his destination, he tugged on the panel comprised of small lead panes, whereupon he braced to climb over the sill, just as pain shot through his fingers from the heretofore-gentlewoman and her wicked bite, and he almost fell.
“Get thee gone, knave.” Athelyna pounded his hands. “I will not lie with ye, no matter what the King commands. If thou dost want me, thou must take me by force, and I will fight ye to my dying breath, vile cur-dog.”
“Sheath thy teeth, ill-tempered she-devil.” Lunging forward, he tumbled onto the floor. “And I have no intention of breaching thy maidenhead this eventide, so thou mayest dispense with such concerns.”
The termagant stilled.
“If thou dost speak with verity, then wherefore art thou hither?” Folding her arms, she scurried to the opposite side of the large, four-poster bed. “Despite English law, I rebuke thy claims of ownership, as I belong to no man. Now and forever, I am the Lord’s servant, and naught ye can do will change that.”
“Then we art in agreement, as I honor a similar vow.” Dusting off his garments, Demetrius sat on the edge of the mattress. “But the King issued a series of edicts, which binds us both to the same obligation, so we have little choice or options. First and foremost, we are to seal our nuptials with the consummation, the proof of which His Majesty will receive on the morrow. Second, we are commanded to produce a male heir, confirmed by the existence thereof. Third, we are to shadow Arucard and Isolde, in preparation to re-establish the Crown’s garrison in Winchester, which is no small task in light of last year’s events.”
“Oh?” With the barest whimper, she bit her lip. “And if I refuse?”
He slumped and sighed. “Then I suspect the Sire will have our heads on pikes, outside White Tower, by the noon hour.”
“What can I do to help?” To his surprise, she strolled about the footboard and eased beside him. “While I am amenable to thy suggestions, as I do not wish to die, I should warn ye, I am terrified, my lord.”
“As am I.”
“Truly?”
“Aye.”
“What shall we do?”
“I would delay the consummation, until we gain a better understanding of each other and find our way.”
“Thou art most wise.”
“Indeed?” In that instant, he peered at her, and she met his gaze. “Thou didst offer an altogether different opinion, not seconds ago.” Snickering, he rubbed his abused flesh.
“I owe thee an apology.” Her answering smile arrested
him. “But I am unready and reluctant to be a bride, and thou didst but shout thy accord on the prospect, whence thee vomited and fainted, for all to see, just prior to our ceremony.”
“Thou wilt never let me forget that, will ye?” In play, he nudged her with his shoulder, and she giggled. “What say ye?”
“Nay.” Then she burst into laughter, which he found infectious.
Soon, they doubled over with unrestrained mirth, and the release of tension eased his black mood. For a minute, he delighted in her classical features and her halo of blonde hair. In any circumstance, he would consider her beauteous. From across a crowded room, as two strangers, she would snare his attention. Only they were not strangers. They were husband and wife.
“Athelyna, I am sensitive to the fact that forces beyond our control have landed us on the same perilous path.” Propped on an elbow, he whisked a stray tendril from her face. “As we have taken the sacrament, we must honor our vows, but how and when we do so is for us to decide, as a couple. But if we are to survive, we must maintain the appearance of obedient servants of the realm, even after we journey to Chichester, as the Crown’s spies ply their trade far past the environs of London.”
“I concur.” She dipped her chin. “What dost ye propose?”
“If thou canst manage it, thou must play the part of attentive wife, to perfection, else we are doomed, while I must rule thee as would a man exercise authority over his lady.” Of course, his portion of the ruse was the toughest. “And although we will not yet join our bodies, we must share a single accommodation and a bed.”
“Thou dost ask much of me.” Athelyna swallowed hard. “May I have thy word, as a noble knight of His Majesty, ye will not violate me, against my will? Rather, thou wilt permit me to name the date of the consummation, when I am ready, given I suspect ye will reach that point before I.”
“Thou dost not trust me?” He tried but failed to ignore the insult. “Have I given ye reason to doubt me?”
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