Finding Peace - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 2)

by Lisa Shea

  Her father’s voice was rich with fury. “You will marry Corwin, and that is final!”

  A calm settled over Elizabeth’s shoulders. “No, I will not,” she told them smoothly.

  Corwin’s voice rose high. “You will marry me if it is the last thing you ever do!”

  The front door yanked open, and a man came racing down the hallway, pulling to a stop before the head table. “There is a trio of bandits at the jousting field,” he reported in a hurried rush. “I think they have one of our serving girls.”

  Corwin stood at once. “You five, with me,” he ordered, his gaze raking a group of soldiers who stood to one side. He spun to glare at Elizabeth. “And you, weak one, you will stay here.”

  “Like hell I will!” she shot back, her heart pounding. Was it sweet Vera who had been caught up this time?

  Corwin barely heard her. He spun around the edge of the table, racing toward the main door. Elizabeth and Richard fell in with him at once, grabbing their cloaks along the way, pulling them tight against the chill November wind.

  They burst as a group into the stables. “Saddle our horses – now!” called out Corwin, and there was a flurry of activity as the stablemen got the horses ready for action. Elizabeth slid the bit over her own steed’s head and was flying through the gates first, the rest of the men close on her heels.

  Her heart pounded as they thundered around the side of the keep and toward the long fields which lay in the valley below. Undoubtedly the wolves’ heads were in the stable building alongside the tournament area, where they could be sheltered from the wind. Which girl might they have in their clutches? Surely not Mary, the sweetest creature she had ever met …

  The stable doors were before her, and she was sliding from her steed, her sword out in her hand, racing to push them open, looking around quickly.

  Richard was at her side in a moment, his eyes sweeping the room. Corwin strode past them both, calling out loudly, “Wolves’ heads! Come out and face justice!” He moved quickly to one of the stalls, peering over the gate, then along to the next. He stopped suddenly, his eyes focusing on the shadows within. “Elizabeth,” he called, his voice holding concern.

  Elizabeth’s heart pounded against her chest. Surely not sweet Sarah. Corwin was pushing the stall door carefully open, and she went past him with flying feet, her eyes searching for -

  The bite of cold steel was at her neck and she froze in shock. Where had the bandit been hiding? She had seen not a soul, not even the trace of -

  The arm pressed her back against a solid chest, and a scent came up from it, of rosemary and columbine. Her eyes flew open in shock.

  “Corwin?”

  He wheeled her around, and she saw Richard pressed in by the five guards, their swords against him. Corwin gave a twist of his knife against her neck. A warm trickle of blood danced down her throat.

  His voice was bright with delight. “Drop it, dear brother,” he ordered.

  Richard hesitated a moment, his eyes on Elizabeth, then the sword clattered from his hand onto the ground. The guards were on him in an instant, drawing his hands behind his back, lashing them tightly with rope.

  Elizabeth’s throat closed up with panic. “Corwin, let him go,” she pleaded. “You have me. You do not need him.”

  Corwin’s voice was rich with pleasure. “Ah, but I do,” he corrected her.

  The guards tied a length of rope to the bonds at Richard’s wrists, then tossed it up over a beam high overhead. They drew the spare end over to a hook in the wall, cinching the length tight until Richard’s arms were high over his head, his feet on tip-toes.

  Elizabeth’s heart constricted in fear. “Corwin, no!”

  The rope was secured, and Corwin handed Elizabeth off to a pair of guards who held knives against her neck and stomach. He strode toward Richard, his grin growing.

  He called back over his shoulder to Elizabeth. “You had that straw dummy at the nunnery,” he mused. “You knew the pleasure it brought you to hack at the limbs, to watch them slowly separate from the body, to finally fall free.”

  Elizabeth’s legs weakened beneath her. “God, Corwin, please,” she pleaded.

  Corwin walked up to Richard, eyeing his brother. “All those years,” he muttered. “All those years that you interfered with the things I wanted.”

  Richard’s eyes shadowed as he looked down at his brother. “I only sought to protect you. Every action I took, it was for your safety.”

  “My safety?” sneered Corwin, his voice harsh. He moved up to his brother’s side, staring at him for a long moment, then without warning he coiled his right arm back, launching it hard into Richard’s side, rolling to follow through. Richard grunted in pain, his body swinging back from the blow, then settling into place again.

  Elizabeth lurched forward against the men who held her, then was hauled back into place, the knives sharp against her.

  Corwin’s voice was tight. “I finally had that bully, Odo, down beneath my dagger. I could have castrated him and made up for the years of abuse. And you stopped me!”

  Richard’s voice was hoarse. “His father was the sheriff,” he ground out. “If you had gone through with it -”

  Corwin swung again, this time his fist landing on Richard’s jaw, rocking him back. Elizabeth sagged, a moan escaping from her lips, as Richard swung, groaned, settled back into place.

  Corwin’s voice hammered at Richard. “And Isolda, that buxom wench who would never give me the time of day? Far too high and mighty for the likes of us? I had finally caught her alone by the river, after weeks of planning, and you show up and -”

  Richard’s voice shot out, tough with anger. “The girl was unwilling!”

  Corwin’s blow connected with his stomach, and he groaned, his body half twisting from the force of the punch. Corwin’s voice was fierce with fury. “She would have learned her place,” he growled. He glanced back over his shoulder, and a grin spread on his face. “As Elizabeth will learn her place,” he added. “To submit to and obey her lord and master.”

  Richard’s face went pale, and Corwin punched him again, drawing a shuddering moan.

  Corwin’s eyes moved back to hold Elizabeth’s for a moment. “You know you can stop this at any time,” he reminded her. “Just say the words and your darling man of honor will be safe.”

  Richard coughed to gain his breath. “Do not do it, Elizabeth,” he rasped. “You cannot trust anything he says.”

  Corwin’s fist rocked his head back. “Ah, dear brother,” he corrected. “She can trust what my fists say. She will watch as your body is battered into oblivion, as you lose the use of your arms, your legs, and at last your breath.”

  Elizabeth could barely stay on her feet. “No …” she implored, her eyes held tight on Richard’s moss-green ones. “I cannot allow you to be hurt in my name.”

  His gaze held hers in steady certainty. “This is just the pain of my body,” he stated, and she could see the firm resolve which lay within him. “I will not see you wed to this monster.”

  Corwin’s mouth quirked up. “You may be right at that, dearest brother,” he commented, launching a fist into Richard’s side. There was a cracking noise, and Richard gave a long, trembling exhale.

  Corwin rounded to smile at Elizabeth. “I do think I might have broken something,” he sneered at her.

  Elizabeth sagged down against the men holding her, her eyes on Richard’s.

  Her voice was hoarse. “Corwin, stop. I swear to agree -”

  Richard’s cry cut through her vow. “No, Elizabeth,” he urged. “A day of my pain is not worth a lifetime of yours. Do not do it.”

  Corwin turned, sending his fist into Richard’s jaw again, cutting off his voice. “You were saying, my dear? It is about time we got you to the steps of your chapel, to see you properly wed by Father Godfrey, in a way befitting your noble station.”

  An odd memory tugged at Elizabeth’s mind, at the words Corwin was saying. They were half of a whole; there was something
important there.

  Then Corwin was swinging again, landing hard on the same spot. Richard’s groan was deeper, more ragged, and his eyes fluttered shut. All thought fled, and the words burst from her mouth. “Enough! I will marry!”

  Corwin spun, his eyes bright with delight. “You will? Voluntarily?”

  “Yes,” she promised, her throat closing up. “I will. Today. Voluntarily.”

  His eyes traced up and down her form with hot interest. “And submit fully to your husband?”

  Richard’s groan came from the depths of his soul. “Elizabeth, no.”

  “Yes,” she responded, all hope gone. There was aught she could do but to stand on the steps of the chapel, to stand before Father Godfrey, to have a proper wedding. The alternative was …

  A thought sprung into her mind, and she looked down, closing her eyes, holding her face as still as a mouse before a snake. The alternative was a wedding in the old tradition, the vows given between man and woman, the joining of the two the ultimate symbol of their promise to each other. Such a joining had the power of consecration; it could not be undone, could not be overridden.

  A plan began to form in her head, and she drew in a deep breath. Corwin was a master of machinations. He would be watching for a deception. She had to be as cautious as all her years of experience had taught her, had to trace the labyrinth with delicate attention, every foot-fall precisely placed.

  She drew open her eyes, her gaze fully on Corwin.

  “I will marry today,” she vowed, standing tall, her voice growing stronger. “And I will proclaim loudly that this marriage is of my own free will. But first I demand three conditions.”

  Corwin moved to stand before her, his smile wide. “And what might those be?”

  Elizabeth fought the urge to glance back at Richard. She had to hold this together, to maintain the front she was presenting, just for a short while longer. “First, you are to let Richard go. I want to see him ride from here with my own two eyes.”

  Corwin chuckled. “Of course,” he agreed. Elizabeth could see in his cold marble eyes that he did not intend for Richard to get further than the horizon, but she bit back the knowledge. One step at a time.

  “Second, I will choose for myself what horse Richard takes, and what supplies go with him. You will bring all of the horses in here for me to choose from, and you will leave us in here as long as we deem necessary to make that selection.”

  Corwin’s eyes widened with appreciation. “You may yet be the woman worthy to sit by my side,” he murmured, looking at her with new respect. “I will find this very interesting. Granted.”

  “And third,” she stated, “once Richard has ridden away, you and all five of your lackeys will sit with me, outside the stables, not stirring, until the sun touches the horizon. Your horses will not be examined, not a man leaves my sight, until that time has passed.”

  Corwin’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Ah, my dear, I may yet mold you into a proper wife,” he praised. “I accept wholeheartedly. And when these terms are met, you swear you will be wed?”

  She nodded, her eyes holding his with firm promise. “I vow it. I swear it on the death of my brother.”

  Corwin’s eyes moved to his crew. “You heard my wife,” he called to them. “Bring in the horses, and make it quick. I want to see how this game plays out.”

  There was a flurry of action around her. The three men went to and fro leading in all of the horses, settling each one into a stall. Corwin moved to stand before his brother. He leant forward and murmured into his ear. “You think, when you are fleeing from these lands, how my hands will teach this woman what it means to be properly ridden,” he advised Richard. “You think, with every step your horse takes, how it is my whip now which drives Elizabeth.”

  Richard tensed, and Corwin gave him a solid pat on the jaw, his hand landing on the purpling bruise. Then he turned and gave a toss with his head to the two men who still held Elizabeth. The men stood back from her, moving over to stand at Corwin’s side.

  Elizabeth’s voice was low as she spoke to Corwin. “As long as I need to prepare the horses,” she reminded him.

  Corwin’s eyes scanned the row of stalls, and he laughed. “Yes, certainly, dear wife. Take as long as you wish to concoct your schemes. But remember, we stay put only until sundown. The longer you take in here, the closer that eventuality comes.”

  With a final grin he stepped through the main stable doors, closing them solidly behind him. Elizabeth ran forward, sliding the bar in place, then glanced around at the darkened hall. The other windows had all been long since sealed against the coming winter, and only glimmers of sunlight trickled through the higher windows in the loft. None could see inside.

  Satisfied, she ran over to the hook on the wall, drawing her dagger with one smooth motion and slicing through the rope. Richard fell heavily to his knees. She was at his side in a moment, sawing through the bonds at his wrist. She sighed in relief as they came free, as his arms swept around to hold her close to him, his head nestled at her neck.

  His voice came ragged and rough. “You cannot do this,” he growled. “I will not allow you to give your life for mine.”

  She pulled back gently, her eyes holding his. “I have already sworn it,” she reminded him. “On my brother’s death, I have sworn to marry today.”

  He shook his head, his eyes steady on hers. “There is no way I will let yourself pledge to be under Corwin’s control for the rest of your life.”

  The edges of her mouth tweaked up into a grin, and she moved to one side, grabbing up her cloak. “I never said I would marry Corwin,” she pointed out. She moved to the back wall, to where a thick layer of hay lay spread before the wood face. She lay her cloak out on the hay, then knelt at it, using her dagger to scratch out the shape of a cross.

  Richard staggered up behind her, looking between her and the wall. “I do not understand?”

  She finished with the cross, then began working on a shape to its right. She began with the five star-shaped petals, then sketched in the inner white petals, more square in shape. “I only said I would be married today,” she stated evenly, nodding in satisfaction with what she had created. She drew to her feet, turning to stand before him.

  His eyes went to the symbols on the wall, then back to her, and suddenly they went wide with understanding. His breath caught for a long moment, and at last his hand moved to gently stroke her cheek, his gaze holding her with growing wonder.

  “You are sure?”

  She nodded, stepping to stand before him. “If you will have me,” she whispered.

  He was pulling her in against him, holding her close, and she could almost feel his arms tremble. “If I would have you,” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “There has been nothing else I have hoped for, have prayed for, since we first met. Your honor, your strength; you are what I have waited for these long years and never hoped to find.”

  She nodded her head down at the ground before the symbols. “Then lay out your cloak,” she indicated with a gentle smile.

  He removed it in an instant, turning it over and laying the softer, inner lining face up, providing an extra buffer against the hay. She dropped her belt on the ground, then moved to kneel on the fabric. In a moment he had done the same, and they faced each other.

  Her breath caught as she gazed up at him. His eyes were steady on her, and she knew with every cell in her body that this is what she wanted.

  “Richard, I swear before God and all of nature that I here take you to be my husband, for now and for all time.” She heard his intake of breath, felt his warmth wash over her with a steadying strength. “I will love you, honor you, respect you, and be loyal to you. I will stand by your side whatever the injury, and I will nurse you back to health whatever strikes us. I will take on all comers, defend our family against all who would hurt us, and go wherever life drives us. All that will matter is that you are there by my side.”

  Richard twined his hands into hers. His voice w
as hoarse. “Dearest Elizabeth, you are the most precious person in my life. I will honor you, love you, and be loyal to you. No other will share my bed or my heart. You will be the mother of my children and the light of my life. I will stay by your side, defend you, protect you, and give my last ounce of blood to keep you safe.”

  Elizabeth warmed with heat. She brought his hands up to her lips for a kiss. “You are now my husband, and I love you. Only death shall part us.”

  He brought her hands to his lips, his voice echoing her pride. “You are now my wife, and I love you. Only death shall part us.”

  He glanced down at her hands, and his brow creased slightly. “I have no ring for you,” he murmured.

  She leant forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “We are in the old tradition now,” she whispered into his ear, brushing her lips against his cheek. “It is not a ring that I want from you, my love.”

  Her eyes went up to his, and suddenly he was kissing her hard, laying her back down against the cloak. She went gladly, drawing him in, feeling the power of him against her, the urgent need which was matched by her own. She wanted to kiss every part of him, and her dress was off, then his tunic, then the under-layers, and they twined, naked, the shadows of the stable drawing around them like a blanket. His hips rose over hers, and she wanted him … wanted him …

  He hesitated for a long moment, looking down at her. “This will hurt for a moment, but not longer.” His eyes held hers. “I wish it would not -”

  “Hurt me?” She smiled up at him, her hand moving to the bandage at her thigh, the wrapping at her arm. “You think I care aught for that one sharp moment of sensation, when I can then share a lifetime of your warmth?”

  He groaned, and then he was in motion, and the brief pain was soon overwhelmed by a soaring, shuddering ecstasy.

  *

  Elizabeth lay in his arms, her breath slowing, drawing into a more even pattern, the sturdiness of his body beneath her filling her with warmth. It was overwhelming that the touch of another could bring so much pleasure. She had known only pain over the years, had not imagined that such a thing existed.