Lord of a Thousand Nights

by Madeline Hunter

  She emerged from the ecstasy to discover Ian had finished too, although she had no memory of it. He fell asleep, leaving her to reckon with the sad lesson she had learned this night.

  Early the next morning, scouts tore through the gate to report that an Armstrong force was gathering near the northern border of Black Lyne Keep's lands. Men had been seen trailing out of villages and farms, heading toward it. The scouts judged the army to be three hundred strong and still growing.

  “It sounds like Thomas Armstrong is calling up every able-bodied man on the Clivedale estate,” Ian said to the men who gathered to hear the report.

  Reyna sat beside him, breaking her fast. Things had been cool between them since they woke. They had been treating each other in the stilted, careful way people do after they have had a cutting argument.

  “You'd think he would have them muster far to the west, or at least nearer to the road to Harclow,” one of the knights said.

  “I do not think he goes to Harclow. I think he comes here. It is a clever strategy. I did not give Thomas enough credit.”

  To Reyna that made no sense. She spoke, even though it was not her place to do so. “Maccus requires relief at Harclow. What can Thomas achieve by engaging with you?”

  “Anna de Leon is here. By now, Margery has described Morvan's love for his wife. Perhaps Thomas expects Morvan to break off a section of the siege army and come here when he learns she is in danger. More equal numbers, and probably Morvan will lead them. The plan is risky, but the best chance that Thomas has. If he can defeat Morvan at Black Lyne Keep, the whole situation at Harclow changes.”

  “Sitting tight makes sense, then,” she said. “If Morvan has to come, he will bring men enough to deal with Thomas. Their plan will fail.”

  “Probably, but I find that I have no taste for sitting here. Besides, there are spoils waiting on the border, and this company has been patient long enough. After a summer of indolence, we could all use some action.” He turned to his men. “Spread the word that we move in an hour.”

  While the soldiers rushed off to prepare, Reyna glared at Ian. “The scouts said that over three hundred wait at the border. It is foolish to face such odds when it is not necessary.”

  “Whether Thomas intends to besiege us or continue on and attack Morvan, it is my duty to stop him.”

  “It is not logical to meet such a force on the field. Morvan could never have intended you to do so.”

  “Do not preach logic to me now.”

  “No doubt you think this some grand chivalrous gesture, but it is akin to suicide.”

  His expression hardened. “I did not know that your low opinion of me extended to my skills in warfare, Reyna.”

  “Do not confuse concern with insult, Ian. The bravest warrior is vulnerable against such odds.”

  He gave her a scrutinizing look. “You fear for your pretty neck if I fall on the field? Even if I die, Thomas will never take this keep, and Morvan will never let the Armstrongs have you. Do not worry.”

  But she did worry, horribly, and spent the next hours alternating between fury and despair. She realized that this was yet another way in which her second marriage differed from her first. Robert had last donned his armor ten years ago. She had been a child then, and when she watched him ride through the gate, it had never occurred to her that he might not return.

  She was overwhelmed with mental images of Ian struck down, dying painfully, his blood leaking away into the soil of the hills.

  She tried to distract her mind with dinner preparations, but she knew instinctively when the moment of departure had arrived. Wiping her hands, she ran up to the hall and out to the stairs.

  Ian stood in the center of the yard, his armor looking like gray water in the silver light of the overcast day. Castle folk lingered around to watch the knights and horses being readied.

  As Reyna walked down the stairs, a servant girl named Eva approached Ian. They spoke, standing close, with Ian looking down as he smiled his devastating smile. Finally, to Reyna's dismay, he reached out and stroked Eva's jaw and chin in the same affectionate gesture he had used so often with her.

  Reyna bore down on the intimate conversation taking place in front of the whole household. Eva saw her coming, said something quickly, and melted away.

  “Where have you been?” Ian asked, not at all embarrassed at having his new wife see him charming his slut.

  “I did not want to be in the way. I am not well schooled in how a wife behaves at these times. If I was supposed to attend on you, I apologize for my neglect.” Her eye caught Eva by the wall, speaking to a young archer. A pretty young woman, with large breasts that stretched her gown. Not at all puny and scrawny.

  “You need never attend on me if you do not choose to,” Ian said. Reyna heard an allusion to more than just preparations for battle. Nay, obviously she need not. One woman was as useful as another to the Lord of a Thousand Nights.

  She forced an expression of indifference onto her face. It had been an evening and morning full of disheartening discoveries, but she was gentle-born and knew how to act with dignity.

  Knights mounted and began pacing through the gate with their squires. She stretched up and kissed Ian's cheek. “God go with you.”

  He looked down with an especially brooding expression, and then turned away. Halfway to his horse, he pivoted abruptly and strode back. He pulled her into a savage embrace, pressing her to his steel, claiming her mouth with a furious kiss. “Be waiting for my return as a wife should,” he ordered roughly.

  I an led his men toward the border, trying to ignore the strange ill ease that pricked his spirit. He tried to blame Reyna for having unsettled him with her arguments and cold behavior. He knew, however, that the cause did not lie with her. He suspected what this sensation really was, for he had felt something similar long ago, but he refused to name it.

  Half of his mind kept busy reexamining the strategy they would execute when they engaged Thomas's army. The other half, however, was full of Reyna, as it had been since he first met her. It annoyed him that possessing her had not resolved the way she intruded in his head. That was something else that he had only felt once before, long ago—with dire consequences.

  She had considered denying him last night. He had known her hesitation for what it was, but had not allowed her to contemplate it long. In the end, however, her withdrawal might as well have been physical, so clearly had an invisible wall appeared between them. Although her body had joined his with a heightened abandon, the essential part of her had remained aloof.

  For the first time with Reyna it had been as it had always been for him over the years, two people exploiting passion and relief for their own sakes. The passing of Reyna's innocence, which had permitted joyful sharing without counting the cost, had wounded him more than he expected.

  It had been inevitable, he supposed. She was not some silly girl. The day had to come when she would begin examining what lay within the pleasurable haze. And then she would weigh the value of what she had been giving, and judge the worth of the man to whom she offered it.

  His final attempt to forestall that reckoning last night had been in vain, and, he suspected, had only hastened the opening of her eyes.

  Does your father who sought to make you a priest still live? It had been such a simple question. Perhaps a simple answer would have sufficed, but he doubted it. This question would lead to others, as was the way with such things. He had not emerged into the world with their meeting, and eventually she would seek the story of the years that had brought him here.

  Little could she know that the dishonor of the past four, the part that she already knew, had been the least and last of it.

  He had considered answering that question, but had found that he could not risk it. He did not dare test the delicate ties that had been forming between them, because his isolated soul relished those tenuous connections more than he thought possible. But in the tense silence of his rebuff and then later in bed, he had felt
some break just the same, as surely as if she had snipped them with a pair of shears.

  Twilight was gathering when the troop straggled down the road to Black Lyne Keep. They made slow progress, what with the carts loaded with the spoils of armor and the trailing line of Armstrong horses.

  It had been a brief battle, following a surprise attack, and had ended sooner than it might have, when Ian challenged Thomas Armstrong to individual combat. Defeating the man had been easy enough, and Ian had spared Thomas's life in return for an oath to keep the Armstrongs at Clivedale, north of the border with Black Lyne Keep and far from the siege at Harclow.

  The mood in the company was high-spirited. On their own the common soldiers decided to share the spoils with their members who had missed the fun by being sent to Harclow. Ian traded jests, and soaked in the familiarity and friendship. Most of these comrades would depart from his life soon, he realized. In six months the company would be back in France, laying siege to some exhausted town. The majority were brigands at heart and could know no other life.

  He stayed in the camp outside the wall for many hours, sharing the ale and food brought out the gate by some servants. He listened to the old stories of past campaigns and adventures, letting the good cheer flow around him. A fine drizzle had been falling for some time when he finally rose and drifted away.

  He had removed his armor, and wore only a long cloak and tunic and soft low boots. He approached the gate looking like a mendicant, and had to call out before the guard recognized him in the torchlight.

  The portcullis rose. He paused and glanced back to the fires. Then he walked through, into the deserted yard. With a loud thud the iron gate bit the ground behind him, cutting off the sounds of his company.

  He approached the keep. A single torch sputtered in the drizzle by the door, and in its dying light he saw a huddled form in the middle of the wooden stairway. He slowly mounted the steps toward it. Reyna's pale face peered out from a cloak swaddled around her seated body.

  He had forgotten that he had ordered her to wait for him.

  “You could have stayed in the hall. It is damp and cold here.”

  “I am warm and dry enough. I have little experience in greeting a man after battle, but I met Robert here when he came home from a journey. There are those within who remember that. I would not have it thought that I honored you less.”

  He accepted the statement of duty without comment. He could not see her expression, but her tone had been soft and careful. How does one end an argument that never started? No words had been spoken that could be retracted, no insults hurled for which to apologize. She had merely asked for a small thing, but still it was more of himself than he dared to give. And yet he knew, to the core of his soul, that she had resigned herself to never ask for anything again.

  “You may have little experience in greeting a man after battle, Reyna, but you have many more years as a wife than I have as a husband.”

  She cocked her head thoughtfully, and when she spoke again her voice sounded more natural. “Aye. And the wife is going to scold you now, for waiting so long to walk through that gate. I heard about your combat with Thomas, and you have wounds that should be cleaned. There is warm water heating by the fire in the solar, and I will use some salves on your cuts.”

  The idea of Reyna's fussing over his cuts pleased him. He opened his cloak with one arm to take her small body next to him. She was neither warm nor dry as she claimed, but he would take care of that very soon. He wanted her, and would accept whatever she gave, and perhaps with time it would again be as it had been before last night.

  “They say that you let Thomas live,” she said.

  “There was no profit in killing him. If I thought that his death would end the accusations against you—”

  “Nay, nay—I am glad you did not. People would say it was because—” Her voice trailed off.

  Because I desired Thomas's wife, and sought to have Margery free of her husband. He did not care what other people thought, but he would not have Reyna wondering about that. This at least he could give her.

  “There was never anything between me and Margery,” he said. “Now come out of the rain.”

  With his cloak floating around them both, he guided her into their home.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  I an looked out over the moss from his position on the southeastern curve of the wall walk. Below him spread the wildflowers and heather, and further off snaked the line cut into the land by the river. Beside him stood Giles, his most experienced sapper.

  Ian pointed to the land due south. “Andrew Armstrong says the river once flowed closer to the keep, years ago, and ran more broadly, covering that wetland there.”

  Giles nodded. “I've seen such before. A river's flow moves or thins sometimes.”

  “I am wondering if it can be moved again. Why couldn't one excavate and bring the river close to the wall?”

  “It is how moats are cut, of course.”

  “Not just divert part of the river for a moat, but move the whole thing. I want to know how many men, and how long?”

  “Let us say a hundred men from the farms. Can not use them during planting and harvesting, so it is only the growing months and a few before winter. If you do not find rock, and if it is easy going, maybe three seasons.”

  Two months ago, if anyone had proposed a project taking so long, Ian would have laughed at the suggestion. Now, three years seemed a small investment in a lifetime.

  Ian gave Giles orders to draw up plans for the project, then strolled along the wall toward the stairs. As he descended to the yard, he saw Reyna walking by. She wore her hair in a thick plait wound around her head, but he knew that she would arrive at dinner with it flowing freely the way he preferred. She did that to please him, despite the inconvenience.

  He watched her amble to the garden with a basket over her arm, going to pick the flowers and herbs with which to flavor the food. She helped Alice at every dinner now, because he preferred her cooking. At the meal she would chat about his plans for the keep and the news of the siege at Harclow. In the evening she would retire to read or write her philosophy, and at night her arms and body would welcome him. Those intimacies throbbed with pleasure, but were always marked in silent ways by boundaries that she did not let herself cross anymore.

  She was beautiful. Not a perfect face or body, but beautiful to him just the same. Dutiful and cheerful and compliant and lovely. More than he had ever expected.

  So why did he find himself gritting his teeth over her courteous banter, and longing for the days when she cursed him as a bastard and a whoreson? At least her earlier conflict with the despicable Ian of Guilford had possessed blood and life, and a peculiar friendship. In contrast, this polite wifely duty promised to stagnate into boring routine very quickly.

  He began mounting the steps to enter the keep. Movement and noise at the gate stopped him. A guard announced that a lone knight approached.

  The portcullis rose and a horse passed through the gate in the wall. Its rider turned and studied the white-and-green pennants flying from the towers, then cast his gaze over the yard. He sat on his steed straight and proud, in full armor, with a long black cloak thrown back from his shoulders.

  The man was maybe thirty years old, with golden hair waving around his head and neck. He turned his narrow, delicately sculpted face toward the keep, and his liquid blue eyes lit upon Ian. As he swung off the stallion, his black cloak fell forward and unfurled.

  Ian took in the white cross on the cloak's shoulder, and knew at once who had arrived. Edmund the Hospitaller. He stood there like the embodiment of an archangel, as perfect and clean as if he had stepped out of a colored glass window in a cathedral.

  A squeal erupted from the garden gate. Ian watched Reyna drop her basket and run like a doe into the outstretched arms of the smiling blond knight. She gave Edmund a kiss of greeting and smiled up with a delighted, trusting expression.

  Forcing a smile of welcome that he ha
rdly felt, Ian approached the knightly monk. Reyna stepped back, turning in the arm resting around her shoulders. “Ian, this is Edmund, whom I told you about.”

  “Welcome, Edmund. We are honored to have a knight of Saint John visit us.”

  “Some business for the preceptor brought me to the area. I thank you for the welcome, since I have heard during the last few days that there have been many changes here.”

  Aye, Edmund would have heard the news about the siege of Harclow and the fall of Black Lyne Keep while he rode through those hills. How much else, though? Ian decided to clarify the situation. “Our hospitality is always open to my wife's friends.”

  The man was good, Ian had to give him that. His expression barely changed at all. Just a blink of vague surprise.

  Edmund's arm fell away from Reyna. Ian could tell that the knight had many questions for the lady, and that Reyna felt some need for explanation, but of course they couldn't hold that conversation now. Eventually they would find time alone to do so, and Ian imagined Reyna's half of that discourse and not much liking what he heard her say.

  “I have met your brother, Reginald, of course,” Ian said.

  “I heard that you hold him.”

  “He said he swore to Robert to protect me, Edmund, but before taking me to you he was going to force a marriage,” Reyna explained sorrowfully. “He was like a different man. I did not understand it.”

  “He was wounded, but he heals well,” Ian added.

  “I would like to see him, if you will permit it.”

  “Of course. I will take you to him now. Have the servants prepare a chamber for our guest, wife, while I bring Edmund to his brother.”

  “I know my duties, Ian,” she said. “We will talk at dinner, Edmund. It is so good to see you again, dear friend.”

  “My brother is not the smartest of men,” Edmund said quietly while Reyna walked away.