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

by Shea,Lisa

  “Pete,” cut in Gabriel abruptly, his voice low but firm.

  The rotund man stopped short, his face flushing crimson. “Oh,” he burst out in confusion, “but, of course, I mean …” He wrung his apron in his hands for a moment. “That is all in the past, my dear,” he stammered finally, looking down at the floor, “and it is best not to dwell on past harms. Come, have your table, and let me find you some food!” He half ran into the back room, leaving Gabriel and Constance standing in the center of the room.

  Constance was in a fog, and made her way over to the chair without a word. Was she in a dream? Here she was, sitting in the corner, and there was Gabriel, across from her, his tentative gaze laden with caution. The innkeep moved in silently, putting down two bowls of lamb stew and two large tankards of ale before vanishing again into the back room.

  Constance did not even look down at the food or drink, only gazed at the man across the table from her. It was several long moments before she could speak.

  “He … he told you about my message?” she finally whispered, her cheeks flaring with shame. It had been an act of desperation, a plea from the depths of her heart that night. To sit in front of him, to know he had heard of her weakness …

  He put his hand across the table, placed his strong fingers on top of hers, comforting her. “Of course I heard,” he confirmed, his voice low and rich. “I heard that you called for me, and for no other. Not for your brother, not for …” his face flushed, and he bit out the words. “Not for your husband.”

  Constance shook her head. “Never for him,” she vowed quietly, her face grim. “There was no one else for me to turn to. I was desperate.” Her voice dropped down, and she looked at the table. “I thought you hated me, I thought you were a world away. I had heard you returned to the Holy Lands.”

  He picked up his tankard of ale, took a long pull, then nodded. “I had, for several years. I hooked up with my old group, fell into my old routines. I tried to stay away, to let you lead the life you had chosen. Then, when Sir Templeton fell ill, and the new crop of recruits came in to watch over the trade routes …” He finished off the tankard in a long swallow, putting it down carefully on the table.

  Constance’s face flushed. He had answered the question of where he’d been, but not the other – if he had hated her for what she had done. She could not bring herself to ask further. She turned her attention to the stew, savoring the warm meal, drinking down the ale with studious attention. After a long moment, Gabriel joined her in eating, and Pete brought over a fresh tankard of ale for him without comment.

  Constance did not speak another word during their meal. The wound had been re-opened, was too raw to mention. Every time she looked up, she was reminded again of that day six years ago, of the things she said, of the pain she caused.

  When they were done, she got up and headed outside. Ralph was already there with the horses, and she mounted up easily. She needed to put some distance between her and that inn, between her heart and that long-past day, when her life changed forever … she had to get back to the nunnery. She felt its draw almost as desperation.

  She headed off at a fast pace, the two men following close behind her. She took a short-cut through the woods, her feelings a turmoil. She had turned her back on Gabriel, had cruelly lied to him – and he had been the one she called out for in her darkest moment. She had called for him.

  She cantered through a dense stand of trees, suddenly caught by a thought. Barnard had not sent help. Nor had her brother. Still, someone had. She had been moved in a rush, late at night, perhaps because trackers were closing in on her. Then, only days later, the mercenaries had broken her out of prison, rescued her by force.

  They had taken her straight to Gabriel.

  She pulled hard to a stop, and Gabriel and Ralph spun their horses in surprise, scanning the small clearing in alarm. Her mind was awhirl in confusion, the pieces falling into place one after another.

  She turned her horse to face Gabriel’s, her eyes meeting his. His look held concern, and he continued to search the area around them.

  “What is it?” he called out sharply.

  “Why not just tell me?” she shot out, pride and bafflement mixing within her. “Why this whole mystery?”

  Gabriel’s face became more serious, and his lips compressed into a thin line. “Tell you what?” he asked more cautiously.

  Constance chuckled. “Gabriel. Angel. Angelus. Why did I not see it before? It was right in front of me the entire time.” She looked up into his eyes, the smile growing. “With all the good you have done, why not shout it to the hill tops? Why not take credit for your deeds?”

  Gabriel’s eyes flicked around the clearing before returning to hers. “It is getting late, Connie. We can talk about this later, when we get you back to the nunnery.”

  A shadow separated itself from the edge of the clearing, resolving itself into a horse and rider as it approached.

  Frank flashed a toothy grin. “No, Gabriel,” he commented smoothly as he approached, “Why not talk about it now?”

  Gabriel dropped his hand to his hilt, then froze. A dozen more shapes emerged from the woods around them, surrounding the group. He brought his mount in closer against Constance’s, with Ralph moving in on the other side.

  Frank smiled even more widely. “Just where are the Angelus men now, I wonder? Could it be they are along the main route you should have taken back to the nunnery, on the lookout for attack there? It seems they were not alerted to your change of plans. Luckily for me, I chose a more direct method of following your path.”

  Constance bit back the panic which was infusing every bone of her being. “Barnard said that he would not take me home for two weeks. When he hears that you have disobeyed him -”

  She was cut off by loud laughter. “My dear, he said that after two weeks you would have no choice but to return to him,” corrected Frank merrily. “If he could get his hands on you earlier, all the better.”

  Constance swallowed hard. She realized just what a precarious position she had put Gabriel and Ralph in. Barnard might yet have qualms about killing her, but these two …

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to tremble. “Then I will go with you,” she announced, “as soon as you let these two men go. Barnard would not have any reason to see them.”

  Gabriel’s cry was immediate. “No!” He drew his sword in one smooth movement. “I will not let them take you to him!”

  Frank made a motion, and one of the soldiers brought up a crossbow, aiming it at Constance’s heart.

  Frank’s voice became chill. “My dearest Constance, maybe you should not be worried about Barnard,” he commented. “Maybe you should be thinking about the bandit troop who could demand a hefty ransom from Charles. I think your brother will be more willing to pay, now that you have regained your family connections.” His gaze moved between the two men. “Let us try to keep the lady safe. Your swords, please?”

  Gabriel held his gaze for a long moment before tossing his sword down onto the ground with a snarl. Ralph followed suit, and Frank’s men moved in quickly to tie their hands together, to gag them. The group headed out at a fast trot, wending their way deeper into the woods.

  It seemed to Constance that they rode for hours. The night grew pitch black, and still the men threaded their way by starlight, moving along valleys, across a streambed, along a small pond. She was near exhaustion when they finally reached a low compound surrounded by mossy walls.

  She had no strength to resist when Frank came over and roughly pulled her from her horse, leading her away into the crumbling building. She looked wildly about for Gabriel, but two guards were holding him back, pressing him with swords in another direction. Then he was out of sight.

  She was brought up through the darkened main hall, up a long flight of stairs and into a bedroom. The small room was sparsely furnished, and the window was shuttered, but there was a clean bed there, and a low fire burned in the fireplace. She was released
in the room, then her captors closed the door firmly behind her. She did not hear any retreating footsteps; they were standing guard outside the door.

  Exhausted, she staggered to the bed and collapsed.

  Chapter 20

  Constance awoke to streaming sunshine dancing through the half-open windows, the dust motes creating a sparkly glow in the air. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms out languidly at her side. My, but she was hungry. The room seemed to shimmer as if she were immersed in a dream. The comforter on the bed was an intriguing shade of burnt orange, like a puffy, soft sunset. She pushed it off gently, swinging her feet to the floor.

  A simply carved dresser sat next to her bed, and on it smoke wafted from a small bronze brazier. It had a floral scent, almost sickly sweet, but she found she liked the aroma. She stood and inhaled a deep breath of its perfume. Running her fingers through her long hair to bring some semblance of order to her person, she made her way to the door and pulled it open.

  A sturdy guard with stubby salt-and-pepper hair was there waiting for her. He seemed vaguely familiar, and she nodded at him congenially. He smiled toothily at her in return, running his eyes up and down her with interest. “Breakfast is ready, M’lady,” he commented at last, leading the way down the hall.

  Constance became awash in keen pangs of hunger. She followed him with docile obedience toward the stairs. He courteously offered an arm to her as they reached the top, and she gratefully took it. She was feeling awfully wobbly this morning! Together they made their way down the stairs and to a large table.

  A hoarse voice called out, “Constance!”

  A smile wreathed her face – she would know Gabriel’s voice anywhere! She saw with pleasure that Gabriel and Ralph were both already at the table, each flanked by a sturdy guard. Neither man stood as she approached, and she smiled more widely. No need for such formalities amongst friends.

  “Good morning, Gabe,” she responded in a friendly tone as she sat across from them, settling onto a stool. She waved as her escort bowed to her with a smirk, then headed out toward the front of the structure.

  A well-built man with dark, curly hair settled in next to her, and she turned to greet him. “Good morning to you too, Frank,” she added, nodding to him as well. “Is Barnard here?”

  “He will be soon, not to worry,” Frank soothed her with a wolfish grin. “I have brought you some mead, and some eggs with bacon. You must be famished!”

  The aromas of the food were heavenly, but Constance felt a strange lassitude in her arms, as if she just did not want to eat. Still, she forced herself to slowly reach for her mug, to bring it carefully to her lips and drink down some of the mead. It was ambrosial. She could feel the liquid move down her throat, trace its way down her insides, coat her stomach. She chuckled at the sensation.

  Gabe’s voice came from across the table. “Constance, are you all right?” His blue eyes were on her, sharp with concern.

  She smiled tenderly at him. “I am quite fine, Gabe,” she murmured. She turned her attention to the eggs before her, cooked to perfection. She took one mouthful, savoring the flavors.

  “How did you spend the night?” pressed Gabriel, looking her over with a critical eye.

  “I have a very nice bed,” offered Constance between mouthfuls. “The comforter is this gorgeous orange color. I will have to show you later on.”

  Gabriel rounded on Frank with a snarl. “What have you done to her?” he snapped, straining forward in his chair.

  “Patience, patience,” advised Frank with a calm smile. “You can see for yourself that the lady has not been harmed. I have received news that her darling brother is quite amenable to the terms presented, and is making payment as we speak.” He looked over at Constance, and his eyes sharpened with desire. He slowly ran the back of his hand down her cheek, caressing her neck. Constance did not react at all, but Gabriel went extremely still, the muscles in his arm tensing with the effort.

  “Take your hands off her,” hissed Gabriel, his voice ringing with challenge.

  Frank’s smile widened, and he let his hand linger on Constance’s breastbone for a heartbeat before languidly removing it. “I think you are not in a position to insist on anything,” he reminded Gabriel with a grin. “Remember, we can do this the hard way, or the easy way.”

  The front doors flung open, and Constance looked up in curiosity. There he was! Barnard strode in, elegantly attired as always, flanked by … who was that now … ah yes, Jacob! That was the guard’s name, it came to her now! The pair strolled to the end of the table with casual ease. Barnard looked over the assembled group with a satisfied grin. He held his gaze on Constance for a long while, and she smiled up at him contentedly before returning to her meal.

  Barnard’s face became wolfish, and he patted Jacob on the back in satisfaction before coming around to the chairs. He settled himself on Constance’s left side, taking up her left hand in his, running a finger along the gold band encircling her fourth finger.

  “How are we this fine morning, my wife?” he asked, his voice exultant.

  “This food is delicious,” responded Constance. “We must really talk this cook into joining us back at the keep.”

  Barnard brought his lips down to her hand, holding them there for a long moment. “What a wise idea, my darling,” he agreed merrily. “After our little vacation here, we may do just that.”

  Gabriel’s face was white with fury. “What have you done to her?” he challenged. “Let her go!”

  Barnard sat back with a smile, stretching his arms out wide to either side, allowing one to casually rest across Constance’s shoulders in a possessive manner.

  “I suppose as leader of the Angelus that you are used to giving orders and having them followed. Perhaps having your friend, Ralph, spying in my house, gave you some sense of security. However, I am afraid here you are the guest, and I am in charge.”

  Barnard traced circles on Constance’s shoulder, looking over at her with a smile. “As far as letting her go, as you can see she is under no duress. She is being treated quite well.”

  “Why not loose the bonds which hold me and Frank then, if this is such a friendly gathering?” snapped Gabriel shortly, pulling at his arms in demonstration.

  Barnard gave a meaningful shrug. “It pleases me to have your senses clear. You two have caused more than enough trouble for me over the years. I consider this proper recompense. It will bring me inordinate amounts of pleasure to have your mind fresh and alert to witness this.”

  Gabriel’s face went pale. “What is it we will be witnessing?”

  Barnard brought his right hand up to rest against Constance’s neck, his grin growing as Gabriel tensed in response. “This is my wife, after all,” he reiterated with pride. “My property. She is mine to do with as I please.”

  “You would not dare kill her,” whispered Gabriel, his voice hoarse.

  “Why ever would I do that?” asked Barnard with sweet innocence. “My darling bride? The mother of my next generation?”

  “You do not have any children,” pointed out Gabriel warily, his eyes watching carefully Barnard’s.

  “Ah, that is true,” agreed Barnard with mock sorrow. “As much as I would like to blame Constance, and have in the past, there comes a time when a man takes stock of his surroundings and makes a plan for the future. I cannot seem to create an heir from my seed. Still, my lands need an heir, a child I can shape and mold in my own image. Therefore …”

  He looked meaningfully over at Frank, who smiled back at him with greedy enthusiasm. Frank took up Constance’s right hand, which was now resting idly on the table, her breakfast done. She smiled at him in an unfocused manner as he lowered his lips to her palm, kissing it with open desire.

  Gabriel blanched. “You cannot be serious,” he croaked. “Not even you could conceive of something so monstrous.”

  “Who will be there to say the child is not mine?” asked Barnard idly, sitting back contentedly in his chair. “The child will be
born in my bed, in my home. I will swear that I had marital relations – repeatedly – with my wife during the conception period. It will be looked on as a blessing, a miracle, after all these years of hoping.”

  Gabriel looked between the two men. “I will not call it such,” he insisted.

  Barnard smiled. “You are with the Angelus, a group soon to be revealed as responsible for the bandit attacks. You – and your followers – will be tracked down and hung long before the child is born. The proof of your thievery is ready and incontrovertible. None will believe your wild ramblings. You would say anything to escape the noose.”

  Constance looked up in confusion. “Someone is to be hung today?” she asked, turning to Barnard with quizzical eyes.

  “No, no, my darling,” soothed Barnard, patting her hand with his. “That comes later. First I want this man to know what he has lost, to know his world has come to an end.”

  Gabriel’s eyes flashed. “She will know,” he ground out in anger. “She will remember the truth of what went on today.”

  Barnard raised an eyebrow. “Will she?” he asked with bright curiosity. He turned to his wife. “My dear, tell us about those flowers in the vase.”

  She turned her gaze toward the bouquet. “They are beautiful!” she called out, surprised that she had not seen them before. “Daffodils, and daisies, and are those tulips? Crimson roses … ivory roses … chartreuse roses … violet roses!” She turned her eyes back toward Barnard. “What a lovely bouquet of flowers you have brought for me.”

  Gabriel’s face fell in dismay, glancing between her and the bouquet with a look of growing confusion.

  Constance pursed her lips – surely he enjoyed the flowers as much as she did? She reached out to stroke one of the rose petals, and to her surprise it felt dry, perhaps even crunchy. She chuckled at the odd inconsistency and went back to enjoying her delicious food.