A Sense of Duty - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 4)

by Shea,Lisa

  Alison sprang merrily into the room, wrapping her husband in a warm hug. “So there you are!” she called out with mirth. “Ready for lunch, now, are you? Did you bring back any fresh meat?”

  Charles pushed his wife off gently, shaking his head. “I am afraid our hunting was called off early, my dear,” he apologized, his voice low. “There was trouble in the village.”

  Her eyes went round with surprise. “Trouble? What type of trouble?”

  Barnard heaved himself into a chair, waving a hand for a drink. “Nothing for you to worry about, Alison. Just one of the local women, attacked by bandits. You are perfectly safe here.”

  Constance sprang to her feet, crossing the room in only a few steps, her heart in her throat. Her eyes sought out Gabriel’s. “Who? Who was it?”

  Gabriel held her gaze somberly. “It was Vera.”

  Constance’s legs crumpled beneath her, and she sank onto a nearby bench. “No,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Gaynor came tripping into the room, drawing up at a stop upon seeing the expressions on everybody’s faces. “What is going on?” she asked with curiosity.

  Alison went to her younger sister quickly, putting on a bright smile, hooking her arm. “Just a little trouble in the village, nothing for you to worry about,” she assured the younger girl, drawing her away. “I need your help in the garden, so off we go!”

  Constance waited until the two had left earshot before turning to Charles. “Does Vera still attend church down at the village? Will she be well enough to attend tomorrow, do you think?”

  Charles nodded, settling down beside Barnard at the table. “Yes, and yes. She married the baker, as you might remember, and they supply us with all of our special breads and cakes. She does quite well for herself, and has amassed a well-deserved reputation for her recipes.”

  Barnard looked between brother and sister, scowling. “Who is this Vera to you then? She is just one of the villagers.”

  Constance’s throat was tight. “She was a friend when I was growing up,” she explained, shaken to the core at the image of Vera’s sweet face bruised by bandits. She looked over to Charles. “Do they know who the men responsible were?”

  Barnard cut in, staring at his wife. “This is not appropriate for you to discuss, Constance. We are addressing the bandit issue in our own manner, on our own time. We cannot redeploy our forces every time a peasant woman is bothered.”

  A retort sprang to Constance’s lips, and she bit it down with an effort. Deployed? He had not sent any troops in to rescue her when she had been captured. While he did patrol the Beadnell lands, the majority of his forces had been holed up in their keep, defending its walls, for as long as she could remember.

  This was not a fight she could win. She turned on her heel and strode from the room, taking a long walk around the well-groomed grounds to help clear her head.

  An hour passed, and then two. She slowly relaxed, the warmth of the summer sun seeping into her shoulders.

  She came around the corner of the stables and pulled up short. Ahead of her were the flower gardens, and Gaynor and Alison were standing amidst the roses, laughing brightly together. Charles and Gabriel were with them, smiles on their lips.

  Constance wrapped her arms around herself, a chill washing over her. How could the men laugh, knowing what had just happened? How could Gabriel be drawn to …

  She turned away quickly, willing herself to be logical. Gabriel needed a wife. Gaynor was young, lovely, and fun to be with. What more did he need? She should be happy for him, that he was finding a way forward …

  She needed something to do, something to focus her thoughts. Determined, she tracked down Ralph, and together they talked long into the night.

  Chapter 9

  Constance woke early Sunday morning, her mind newly resolved. She dressed quickly in her Sunday best, smoothing the embroidered, burgundy dress down and braiding her hair with care. She offered a quiet, heartfelt thanks to Barnard that, in his status-conscious world, he had felt it necessary to bring two trunks of her clothing for her to wear during her stay. It was nice to be back in her own dress again, to begin to feel like herself.

  In a short while she and Ralph were walking down toward the village, heading to the grey stone church at its center. She smiled with pleasure as many friends from her childhood came up to greet her, to warmly hug her, to share stories of marriages, children, and the changes in their homes and lives.

  She spotted Vera’s thin form out of the corner of her eye, and started in shock. Vera’s face bore several large bruises, and her movements were slow and cautious. Constance did not hesitate – she broke off from the group with a quick apology, then ran over to her friend. Vera’s face lit up with a wreath of smiles, and the pair tenderly embraced.

  Vera stepped back. “I had heard you were in the keep,” she gushed with pleasure, “Still, I never thought I would see you so soon. You look beautiful, as always!”

  “Oh, my friend,” replied Constance, her heart in her throat. “Is there any serious injury that I can help with?” She looked over the bruises with careful scrutiny.

  Vera blushed. “Nothing was broken, thank God,” she vowed with gratitude. “Just some bumps and bruises. It was my strong box they wanted, not me.”

  Vera’s husband came up behind her, nodding in greeting to Constance and Ralph. “I was out for the afternoon,” he began by way of explanation. “They must have known she was all alone, defenseless.” He put a hand gently on his wife’s shoulder. “If they had done anything to my darling …”

  Vera nuzzled gently against his hand. “Luckily, they did not, Simon, and we will recover. It will take us some time, but we will be fine.”

  The church bells chimed, and the group headed in to the main building for the mass. The priest spoke about the protection of God, about relying on His strength, but Constance’s mind whirled in other directions. As soon as the mass was over, she found Vera’s side again. The two settled on a quiet stone bench in the shade alongside the church. Ralph lingered nearby, discreetly out of earshot.

  Constance kept her voice low. “Vera, my friend, I have an idea. At my new home I have been helping the local women learn how to defend themselves. I am not teaching them to become soldiers, but simply to protect their homes and families. I was wondering -”

  “Yes!” cried out Vera with delight, not even waiting for her friend to finish. Her thin face flushed with excitement, and she leant forward. “I know several of the women in the area would be interested. We could meet in the evening, after our daily chores are complete.”

  Constance was cheered to have her idea embraced so enthusiastically. “Where could we gather?”

  Vera nodded her head at the sturdy stone structure behind them. “Right here! The priest has always wanted us to start a prayer circle, to strengthen our devotion. He has offered the use of the basement. We can bring in lamps and have complete privacy for our lessons.”

  “That sounds perfect!” agreed Constance with a smile. “When would you like to start?”

  “Tonight,” decided Vera without hesitation. “How about just after dusk?”

  Constance nodded. “It is a plan, then.”

  * * *

  Constance felt as if she was walking on air as she and Ralph strode up the long slope up to her childhood home. Vera had not been hurt badly, after all, and soon they would be spending time together. She would be helping Vera and others learn to keep themselves safe. Vera and Simon’s bakery business was booming, and while the theft would set them back for a while, it would not bankrupt them.

  The sun shown warmly down on the dirt path, and her cheeks were glowing by the time they reached the main gates of the keep. The stables were to the left in the cobblestone courtyard. These had always been one of her favorite places, and her feet headed there almost of their own accord. She stepped into the relative cool of the large, open building, standing in the doorway, smiling, allowing her eyes to adjust to the low light.

 
There was a movement to her left, and her eyes turned to follow it. It was Gabriel, removing his horse’s tack and bridle. He stopped at her gaze, transfixed by her, his eyes unreadable in the dark. After a moment he finished removing the gear and hung it on a nearby hook before taking the few steps to close the space between them.

  “My Lady,” he greeted her in a low voice, his eyes still tracing her face with a look of almost surprised recognition in them. He paused for a long moment, and then began again, his voice soft, “Constance, you seem …”

  Barnard’s sharp voice boomed through the building. “God’s teeth, woman, what are you doing in here?” A strong arm roughly pulled Constance out of the stable entryway and into the bright light of the courtyard. She blinked several times as her eyes adjusted, hurrying to match Barnard’s pace as he pulled her toward the main building.

  “It is almost lunchtime, and there you are lagging around the stables like some sort of servant,” he scolded her imperiously. “Whatever were you doing in there?”

  He glanced behind him again, and his gaze narrowed as Gabriel moved to stand in the stable’s entryway, watching after them with serious eyes. Barnard gave an extra tug to the woman in his grasp, pulling her through the main doors and into a side entry chamber. He turned her hard, pressing her up against the wall in the small, empty room.

  “Just who is this Gabriel to you,” he asked with heat, his eyes boring into hers.

  Constance’s throat grew tight. “He was a guard when I was growing up,” she responded quickly, feeling the guilt of the half-truth. She willed herself to keep her face calm, without any hint of emotion …

  “When was the last time you saw him?” pressed Barnard, his voice gaining an edge.

  Constance couldn’t help herself. The memory was seared with blinding permanence on her mind.

  * * *

  It was the day of her handfasting. There was a blur of activity, a whirlwind of faces, the absolute certainty in her heart that this was the path she must take in life. She barely remembered the way her parents looked or the decorations of the church. However, she did remember …

  It was the part of the ceremony she had dreaded the most. She had not seen Gabriel since that night at the tavern, not once in the long hours leading up to this rushed ceremony. Yet, as the priest intoned solemnly …

  “If there are any present here who feel this joining should not go through, have them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

  Constance’s eyes swept through the smiling congregation, past the bouquets of flowers, past the ribbons which trailed along the ends of the wooden pews. Out to the main doors …

  He stood there, framed by the light, dressed in traveling clothes, ready for a long journey. He did not move or speak. His eyes moved slowly from her intricately braided hair to the richly embroidered burgundy dress her husband-to-be had bought for her. Then his gaze returned to her eyes, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of emotion – of loss, of passion, of heart wrenching longing.

  Then he was gone.

  “Let your partnership of one year flourish and blossom into a lifelong commitment” stated the priest with firm resolve, and Constance felt herself being turned by a pair of wiry hands, felt a pair of thin lips pressing possessively against her own.

  “Well?” snapped Barnard, shaking her abruptly.

  “I have not seen him since leaving home, since we were first joined,” responded Constance quite truthfully, her voice low. “Not until I was rescued by the mercenaries and deposited at his home for safe keeping.” Her resolve firmed as the memory of her kidnapping came to the fore. “Which reminds me,” she added, her voice gaining in strength …

  Barnard released her arms with a rough gesture, pushing her away. “It is time for lunch,” he cut her off brusquely, turning on his heel. “It would not do to keep our hosts waiting.” He strode out of the room without another word.

  Constance took in a few deep breaths, composing herself. She had made her choices in the past, and she would live with her decisions. Resolved, she straightened out her dress and walked slowly after the man she had chosen to ally with.

  * * *

  Constance was thrilled with how easy it was to slip out of the keep grounds with Ralph as dusk approached. Constance knew all the back doors and quiet paths from her childhood years, and Ralph had been able to track down a tunic and pants from a page which fit her nicely. A thick scarf for her face and a heavy cloak finished off the disguise. They took a pair of horses, walking them through an unused gate with careful quiet, only mounting once they were well clear of the walls.

  Constance was not sure what to expect when they reached the church. Vera had been enthusiastic in the bright light of day, but would she hold the same energy in the shadows of evening? To her delight, she found six women waiting for her in the torch-lit basement, the large, stone room lined with boxes and extra chairs. The central area had a solidly packed dirt floor, and seemed perfect for her purpose.

  Constance recognized Colette, another friend from childhood, now married with three young children. She gave her friend a long hug, then made friendly introductions to the other women present. All had braided their hair tightly down their back, wore loose clothing, and were ready for action.

  Constance and Ralph each took three of the women and began working them through simple blocks and defensive moves. The women were cautious at first, but once they realized that there were none here to see their actions, and great potential in their new skills, they threw themselves into the activities with passion. Constance was thrilled to see how quickly they picked up on the moves, on the benefit of each action and counter-action.

  After an hour, Collete threw herself into an exhausted heap on one of the spare chairs. “You are amazing, Connie,” she praised. “How did you ever learn all of these things?”

  Constance brushed her tawny hair from her eyes, smiling in thanks. “Ralph here was a great help,” she responded with warmth. “He makes time in his busy schedule to keep me in practice and well-tuned.”

  Ralph bowed. “It is my pleasure. You are an extremely apt student. You were quite good even when we first began.”

  “Well, that …” Constance’s face flushed and she looked away, hoping the shadows hid her discomfort. She remembered all too clearly the many long hours Gabriel spent with her, teaching her the basic moves, working with her with ever present patience, with unflagging concern, helping her master these skills. His eyes had held such pride and fondness …

  The women gathered up their cloaks, and Ralph escorted them up the stairs. Constance felt a touch on her shoulder, and looked up into Vera’s bruised face.

  Vera’s voice was soft. “How is Gabriel?”

  Constance turned away from that insightful gaze, willing the tears which welled in her eyes to dry unshed. She had shared everything with Vera; they had been inseparable as girls. There had been nobody else for Constance to talk with; her only sibling was her brother, six years her senior, off on the Crusades for several years. She had told Vera her deepest secrets, her desperate hopes.

  “Oh, Vera,” she sighed, and her friend’s strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly.

  Vera’s voice came soft and somber against her ear. “I hope your family, and the people of this area, appreciate what you have sacrificed in their name,” she offered quietly. “You are truly their guardian angel.”

  Ralph came back down the stairs, and Vera gave Constance one final hug before bidding them farewell.

  Chapter 10

  Constance awoke late Monday morning, weary but content after her long evening out. She was happy to find the central hall deserted as she made her way down the main stairs. From discussions she overheard as she worked her way through to the pantry, the men were busy with the village leaders in discussions about the bandits. Barnard would be gone until late in the evening. The two sisters had taken the opportunity to go into town with them to do some shopping.

  A sense of quiet contentment s
ettled over Constance as she wandered comfortably through her family home. There had been changes, to be sure – Alison’s red banners hung alongside the traditional white and yellow in the main room, furniture had been moved or added. Still, she ran a hand along the carved window bench with pleasure, thinking of the many long hours of happy time she had spent there as a child.

  Her wanders took her outside, and she happened across Joy and the four children playing by the duck pond. The twin boys looked up with delight as Constance approached, running to grab onto her legs.

  “We want to play tug of war!” they cried out. “Can you help?”

  “Why of course,” promised Constance with a smile. She walked over to the stables and grabbed a few spare pieces of leftover rope, and an assortment of gloves as well for good measure. She brought her stash back over to the duck pond and sat in the shade of a small oak while Joy told the children stories. Slowly, carefully, she created sturdy knots at the join points of the rope pieces. The finished length stretched a good ten feet. Once that was done, she began making small but protruding knots every foot. Against each one she created a small, flat loop. It would not catch the hand if your grip was sliding down along the rope freely, but if you wanted to you could slip your wrist within for better traction.

  She gave each section a strong tug, satisfied that her work was well done, then stood and called over to the boys. They jumped up immediately, eyes round at what she had created.

  Constance smiled widely. “Time to give it a try!” She helped the boys wriggle their hands into their gloves, then put on a pair herself for good measure. They found a long, flat area to one side of the pond, and Constance traced a center line on the bank with a stick. The two boys took up each end of the rope, their faces glowing with enthusiastic energy. Joy sat to one side with the two girls, clapping encouragement.