The Dark Lady

by Dawn Chandler

  He eyed her carefully. “Aye, I suppose. I am not sure of your answer, but I’ll let it pass for now.”

  “Thank you, Devenroe. Now, as to the training?” she asked.

  “This has always been a training facility for pages and squires, now we are going to become a full time institution. Lord Grayweist has spoken to folk from all over who will send their sons to us to train. The king will also be sending us several new men.”

  “What of the men? Some will surely want to leave, return to the wars?” Their gait drew them close, walking as old friends, the awkward silence now gone.

  “Aye, some have already requested to go. We have only a few weeks with the king’s new men before he sends for their return. They are young, without any training and he has given Lord Grayweist only a small amount of time to turn them into warriors.”

  Vanessa shook her head. She listened closely and seemed genuinely interested, darting glances at him while he spoke. “That is terrible. He must know it takes more time than that.” Her voice broke as she spoke.

  He glanced at her quickly. She smiled nervously and looked away. Suspicion grew like a vine, winding through his thoughts.

  “That is why it is so important to begin this institution. It is the first of its kind around. Training needs to begin as soon as possible.” Richard walked along comfortably beside her, forgetting himself for a moment, forgetting who it was that walked with him.

  Vanessa grumbled and shook her head. “Warriors with page training are more dedicated, more meticulous about their work and their loyalties. Young boys pulled from behind the plows are a danger to themselves as much as they are to the others in the group.”

  Richard looked closely at her as she spoke. Most women would not even consider such a thing, but he was sure it was not unheard of.

  “Aye, that they are. When the King comes for his men, some of the younger men, have received permission to go. The ones who have been with Lawston for years, and the men with me, have decided to stay. We will be here to teach and to protect the tenants.” He thought it just as well. Only a certain amount of men were necessary here and more men were needed in the wars.

  Cresting a small knoll the men came into view. He watched Lady Vanessa, looking for signs of fear, but expecting none. None came.

  Vanessa looked across the sea of bodies that began to gather. “I can fully imagine the tenants are relieved to have the warriors here all the time.”

  Richard noted her eyes come to rest on several of the men as she scanned the individual groups. He would almost swear it was his men she looked upon. Just a coincidence, he was sure—Maybe.

  He had almost convinced himself of that when her gaze stopped on a massive group, all his men. She looked over each one, seeming to count each man before moving on. He was mostly sure her eyes landed on only his men, but he was also half sure he was mistaken. All doubt was removed when a look of concern crossed her face and she began to scan the crowd once again.

  He shifted his feet as he watched her. He had noticed four of his men were missing and was sure she had as well. Although how that was possible he did not know.

  Van glanced at him, worry tickling at her mind, but could think of no way to ask about the missing men. She had been so occupied at the meal the night before she had not kept a good count on her men.

  Now she wanted to know if they had come here, if something had happened to them. Had some been more injured than she had previously believed? Anxiety wormed its way to the base of her thoughts and began to eat at her.

  One of her missing men topped a rise on the far side of the lists. Her heart fluttered as the other three followed a moment behind him. Relief hit her hard before she could think to hide it. She glanced quickly at Richard, but he didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

  Van resumed walking toward the men when Richard stepped in front of her. “You cannot go down there until Lord Grayweist arrives,” Richard said, his voice rose in the familiar way that told her he was anxious.

  She knew very well the power she had over the castle and all the inhabitants. She grinned crookedly at him. “Are you going to be the one to stop me?”

  “Nay, I would like to tell you though, Lady Vanessa, Lord Grayweist is not going to be pleased if I allow you to get close to the men. Even someone of your status can be in danger from warriors.” His eyes darted behind him and then he scowled at her.

  “I will take my chances with the men, and as to Peter, well.” She took a deep breath and smiled apologetically. “I will apologize now, for he is not going to be pleased that you have allowed me this far.”

  His jaw dropped. She turned and walked directly into the center of the men, smiling at the shocked expressions that stared back at her. “Good morrow, men. I thought I would formally introduce myself.”

  “My lady, we know who you are. You are the Lady Grayweist, Lady Vanessa Lawston,” Devon said from the ranks of the men. He pushed his way to the front of the group.

  It was her turn to feel shock. She had not considered who she now was. It was like she was an entirely different person. Lady Lawston, her breath came heavy as if by a physical blow. She had lost another part of who she no longer was.

  Devon was not detoured by the sudden change in her. His smile grew and his voice rose. “Mostly we know you are the protector of the small, friend to the animals, mainly us, and above all you are the Dark Lady.” Behind him cheers went up.

  Before she could speak one young man that she didn’t recognize shyly asked, “Did you really grab that whip? That would have been impressive to see.”

  She grinned at the youth. “And you are?”

  “Sorry, my lady. I am Francis Devlin. The story has spread all over as to how you saved that little boy, without thinking of the danger to yourself.” He stood proudly before her as he spoke and Van shook her head. Her smile widened, though she did not believe she had done anything special.

  “Well, Francis Devlin. What can you show me that’s impressive?” She enjoyed the glow brought onto his face. His smooth features would soon be ravaged with the grief of war, but for now he still had a child-like quality that touched her ragged heart.

  “I can do this and I am the best at it.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he had pulled his broadsword from the scabbard, balancing the worn hilt on his open palm, the sun glinting off the upraised blade.

  He tossed the sword into the air and then the plan went awry as Robert Dauphin, one of the younger of Van’s men, hit his shoulder and laughed. “You are not the best. I am—” Robert’s laughter died as the sword hilt bounced from Francis’s awaiting hand, and the blade stuck into the ground between Van’s feet.

  “Oh, my lady.” Robert and Francis both stuttered, stepping back. The color drained from their faces. The men standing around waited with wide eyes to see her reaction.

  Van looked down at the quivering blade and just smiled. “That was impressive. Imagine, throwing a sword like that, even with someone hitting you, and still landing it safely between my delicate feet. Amazing. Can you do it again?”

  “Nay!” Francis took a deep breath, mortified. “I mean, nay, my lady.”

  “Too bad. Can you do something better then? Like catching it perhaps?” she asked with a laugh. All the men seemed to relax.

  “Aye, my lady.”

  He leapt forward and grabbed up the sword, ripping it from the ground. Dirt and grass flew onto her black skirt. Van waved him off when he started to make more apologies. She smiled widely, enjoying herself for the first time in weeks. He beamed as his sword was once more balanced precariously on his open palm.

  “If you are going to hit him, Dauphin, do it now where he can stab his own feet, or yours, not mine.” This brought teasing, yells and laughter from the men.

  Not shaken by the sudden noise, or the harrying by Van, he tossed the sword. It came down hilt first, wobbled, and almost fell. Manipulating his arms and legs in an awkward dance, he got it under control, tossing it once
more. The second catch was smoother. The sword wavered only slightly on his calloused palm.

  “That was impressive.” Van was fascinated. Never had she seen such a trick before. She considered asking for his sword. She was sure she could get the mastery of it. “Why do you do that?”

  “Lord Grayweist says that if you are one with your weapons you have the advantage. It is one of his training tools and Francis here is not the best, I am.”

  This came from another of Van’s men. He was a tall blond-haired man, his skin fair, reddened by the sun. She had always felt sympathy for Jonathan. He was not a man who tanned, only burned and peeled.

  “How can you be the best? You have only been practicing for a couple of days,” Francis cried.

  Jonathan had been new to Van’s men only the year before. Her heart reached out to them. She hated lying to them, but she was thankful to still be in their lives.

  “So, you are the best as well. Let us see what you have learned in just four days, Jonathan.” She gasped gently at her mistake and sucked in a breath, but in the excitement no one wondered how she knew his name.

  His attempt was comical, but he did manage to get it balanced and even got one catch out of his five attempts. This brought on gales of laughter, screams, and jests from the others. It also brought on a competition, first one claiming to be the best and beginning to show off for Lady Vanessa, and then another would join.

  Loud laughter sounded from behind several men, followed by a snide voice. “All these new men are weak and useless.” A short barrel-chested man with shaggy black hair stepped between the men. “They could not manage to be one with their weapon if it was run through them.”

  Anger flooded Van’s senses and shook her entire being. “And you are?” She fought to keep her voice calm and level.

  He dropped a jerky, insincere bow and smiled. “Ryan Deumount.”

  A tight shiver raced up her spine at the smile. It stopped well before it reached his eyes. It twitched lightly at the corners, but he showed no amusement.

  “Do you always speak so rudely, Deumount?” Her voice was low and she could barely maintain the falsetto she had been portraying.

  “Only honestly. I speak what I see—”

  “Your vision is bad then, because these men are some of the best at what they do.” Van forced herself to stop speaking before she went any farther and said something she would regret.

  Ryan only laughed. He walked away with two men following him. She recognized Christopher Dalton who had yelled for the bedding, but the other man she did not.

  Richard stepped close to her side and whispered gently “I do not trust that man nor do I trust his little puppies. That is Christopher Dalton and Gregory Penchiot and he leads them around by the nose.”

  She nodded and turned her attention back to the men. The laughter had died from them and they shifted uncertainly.

  Van turned her head as one of the boys she had attended page training with stepped forward. Gary Puelo was his name, she believed. He had been older than she by a couple of years and had not been one of the boys that tormented her. He had kept mostly to himself, and if she remembered correctly, they had never had occasion to speak.

  He spoke to her in a slow gentle voice. “My lady, I cannot safely show you the sword toss, but I can show you something.” Taking up three daggers, borrowed from the men around him, he began to smoothly juggle. The men began to laugh and talk once more, Ryan and his snide remarks forgotten.

  “Oh, now that I know I can manage. Let me try...” Her voice trailed off as Gary stared into the distance behind her, dropping a dagger he was handing her.

  Van turned to see Peter thundering toward her with rage coloring his every nuance and feature. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at the men and was surprised to see the concern in their eyes. “Everything is all right.” She turned to Richard. “Meek and controlled? We shall see.”

  ***

  Jackal slid to a stop in front of her. Peter remained seated, feeling more in control looking down at her. “What in the name of God’s eyes are you doing here?”

  Looking down at the toes of her slippers, she said quietly, “I cry your pardon, my lord, I was just watching the men.”

  He was thrown off by the sudden change in her. She was not attacking him or telling him what and how she was going to do things. Suspicion exploded within him. She was up to something. “What did I tell you, my lady?” He fought to keep his voice calm.

  “My lord, you have told me so much since I have arrived. If you were to be more specific, I could give you a more accurate answer.”

  Her voice was still grating on his nerves, but now it was a sing song tone that at least portrayed her as docile.

  He growled darkly. “I told you something of seeing the men train, did I not?”

  “Aye, when I first arrived, you said I could come with you to see the men train.”

  He glanced at Richard, who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  “Later than that.” Anger seeped from his pores. He scowled at the ring of men and they all fell back a step.

  “You told me, I would not be allowed to accompany you to see the men, my lord.” Her eyes stayed downcast, her voice tilting and malleable.

  “So you deliberately disobeyed me?” He wanted more than anything to throttle her right here in front of his men. Strangle her until she was unconscious and could no longer make him feel this confusing swirl of anger, desire and jealousy.

  “Nay, my lord. I did as you commanded.” He raised his brow and opened his mouth to speak. She shook her head, never looking up from her submissive position as she continued. “You said I was not allowed to accompany you and I did not. I accompanied Richard.”

  Peter’s gaze jumped from the top of her head to Richard’s shocked face. He caught his gaze and expected him to dispute the claim, but Richard held his tongue.

  “So, it is Richard to you, now?” His stomach cramped and knotted at the thought of them spending time together. They seemed to be standing too close when he had arrived. He pushed the petty jealousy from his mind the best he could and turned his attention back to his conniving wife. “So, not only do you disobey me you try to involve my men.”

  Vanessa’s eyes flew to his face, a challenge burning deep within them. Her control had been lost and Peter wondered what had caused it. “You cannot blame my men. They are to do as I command them.”

  Peter leapt from his horse and stopped so close to her the sweet aroma of face powder caressed him, he ignored it. “Your men? Just how in the bloody blazes do you figure they are your men?” He gestured widely, encompassing all that watched. He yelled directly in her face and to his dismay she didn’t back down. She stood toe to toe with him once again. “Do you think all these men yours?”

  “Nay, but at least half of them are my men.” Vanessa’s face registered shock. She pulled away from him and glanced at Richard before dropping her head.

  “Half, which half, pray tell would that be?” He thought of her quick glance at Richard and added, “I understand you consider Richard one of them, I want to know the rest.” He glared at Richard. Richard dropped his eyes and Peter turned his attention back to his wife.

  He watched her chest rise and fall with several deep breaths. The smooth silk of her dress pulled tight across her breasts, distracting him. When she finally spoke her voice waivered slightly, pulling his attention from her luscious diversions.

  “That is not exactly what I meant my lord. I simply meant to say—” A nervous deep breath. “—that as the lady of this castle, it is my right to claim half of what is in it.” As the words came out, she picked up speed. “A marriage is like a partnership. If you went into a partnership with my father for horses, to share the land and the responsibility you would have half. That is the way it should be.”

  “Half, my dear, you are right.” He grabbed her by the arms dragging her close. Her flesh was warm beneath his tight grasp. “As a partner with your father, I would be responsib
le for half. As a husband, I am responsible for not only all of my men, but for you as well.” His voice rose to a bark that tore through his throat like a fire. He had let his anger get the better of him once again.

  Damn it, he thought, and released her so quickly she almost fell. “I do not have time for this. You will return to the castle and you are not allowed to come with Richard again to this field. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, my lord.” She glared at him defiantly and spat out the words. Then she turned and began to walk away.

  “Stop.” His voice sounded tired and weary and he desperately hoped that the others could not sense it. Peter cringed at the intent looks of the men watching as she turned back to him. “Just so I do not have to do this every day, I will make myself clear now. You are not allowed to come to this field with anyone. That includes me, Richard and any of...the men or the servants. Now, do I make myself clear?”

  She did not answer him, just stared, an arrogant black brow raised in challenge.

  “Do you understand me?” No answer. “Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand.” With that she began once again to walk away.

  Peter watched her smooth form sway beneath the dress and realized it was not see-through. He could see nothing of her body and it was made of thick enough material that she was decent. The only difference was the dress alone did not hide the roundness of her curves.

  He groaned in frustration and desire. Letting out a soft oath, he yelled for her to stop. She did, but did not look back. “Grant, take the men and get them started, I am going to take my wife back.” Remounting Jackal, he walked the horse toward her.

  He held out an outstretched hand. Vanessa turned, but only glowered at it. He let out a dramatic groan that left several of the men chuckling. He cocked his head slightly at Richard and then at Grant. Understanding his silent command, both men walked around behind Vanessa.

  She eyed them suspiciously.

  Peter shot his hand down and grasped her arm. He began hauling her up onto his lap. She kicked and fought and Peter nearly lost his grip. Richard and Grant each grasped a leg and boosted her onto the horse. Vanessa renewed her struggle, but they had her in a sitting position before she could slide back to the ground. Peter wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. “Vanessa, stop. You will throw us both off if you continue.”