Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  Lucia realized that it had been an awfully long time since she had had a good bath, and even longer since she had received this kind of treatment.

  “You just relax, Lucia,” lulled Ellie. “I will take good care of you.” Under Ellie’s expert fingers, Lucia’s rigid muscles gradually loosened and her eyes drooped.

  * * *

  She was seventeen, out on her first patrol, and Evan was smiling at her, a breeze ruffling his short, blond hair as they settled in the hollow for an afternoon meal. She worked easily at his side as they laid out their cloaks and sat down to their bread and cheese. She had known him for six years, ever since he had arrived at the keep to join the guard. He had proven his worth, soon becoming one of the lead trainers in sword. He had taken her under his wing, helping her and Michael become quite proficient with the blade.

  Evan gave a low cough. “Lucia, I need to ask you something.”

  Lucia had half expected Evan to officially present his suit today, but even so her stomach suddenly fluttered with butterflies.

  “Lucia, I have known you for several years now, and you are one of my finest students. You are becoming an adult now, and it is time to consider new responsibilities.” Evan bent onto one knee, holding her gaze. She noted absently how the sun’s light gleamed off his hair, making it shine. “Marry me, Lucia. Be my wife, and I shall be the one at your side, holding off the wolves’ heads. Your father has already blessed our joining.”

  Lucia took in a deep breath and looked over Evan. She wasn’t sure she loved him, exactly. He had been a skilled trainer, tough but fair. The men respected him, and her father approved of him.

  Her heart gentled at the thought of her aging father, struggling to hold off the growing onslaughts of the bandits. She knew how important this bond would be to him – to ensure the continuance of the family line. She owed it to him, and to her brother, to do her part. Tying Evan to their family would help add another link in the chain which kept them all safe.

  She drew a smile onto her lips. She was sure she would learn to love him over time.

  “Yes, Evan, I will marry you.”

  He drew her forward into a sturdy hug, and she leant against him. It was certainly not that she disliked him, but there was no interest, no spark within her. He had been a good trainer, but she had never thought of him as more than that. She could scarcely believe that soon she was going to be a married woman.

  Evan turned his head to hers, drawing her into a deep kiss. She wondered if she should feel some sort of reaction to his lips against hers, his hands moving from her face to her arms, yet none came. She knew her duty as a betrothed woman in this wild corner of the frigid north. She must now demonstrate she was fertile. Most unions did not become officially sealed until the woman showed signs she could produce that all-important next generation.

  She would do as her family expected.

  She did not resist Evan as his touches became more intimate, as he slid off her tunic.

  The mantra recited in her mind. She would strive to be a dutiful wife. She would do her part to protect the family and ensure the family line.

  * * *

  Lucia fiercely shook herself, sending water splashing onto the decorative tile. Ellie looked up with a start, then smiled. “Guess you dozed off there,” explained Ellie apologetically, rising from the carved chair near the door. “I was trying to let you rest; I have added more warm water to keep you comfortable. Do you want to dry off now?”

  “Yes, please,” replied Lucia. She was more than willing to let Ellie chatter on for hours, as long as she didn’t have to think about her dream. She knew what had come after that sunny day in the woods, knew well the harsh betrayal which had followed hard after.

  Lucia concentrated on the sounds of the gentle splashing of the water as Ellie used a pewter flagon to rinse the soap from her body. She gingerly climbed out of the tub, looking herself over as she did so. She saw her own well-toned muscles - a soldier’s body. It was silly for her to be thinking girlish thoughts about lost loves.

  Ellie shrewdly noticed the motion and patted her reassuringly as she began to dry her off. “You will have a husband soon enough, Lady Lucia,” she encouraged soothingly. “With a figure like yours, you will have no problem. Why, Ian is everything you could hope for in a man!”

  Lucia was exhausted, and the pain of Evan’s betrayal swept back on her with full force. She looked down, her shoulders slumping.

  Ellie’s bright face suddenly became still. “I am sorry,” she apologized softly. “I should not keep talking about Ian like that. I do not know anything about your background.” She hesitated for a moment. “Many women here have lost loved ones in the bandit attacks.” She was quiet as she finished drying Lucia. She laid the towel on the chair, then turned back to Lucia. “I have brought you up some lunch; please try to eat something.”

  Ellie carefully helped Lucia walk back into the bedroom. Lucia retrieved a nightgown from the shelf and wriggled it down over her shoulders, then sat at the small carved table. She looked over the food laid out for her - a fine white pottery plate held roast lamb, bread, and some vegetables, while a pewter goblet contained a thick red wine. Two beeswax candles added to the fire’s light as the winter sun faded from the windows.

  Lucia started in on the lamb, closing her eyes in pleasure as she tasted the herbed flavors of the food. “When does that meeting start?” she asked between bites. “I think it is important that I attend.”

  “That Council meeting is starting in an hour, at five,” Ellie replied dutifully, pulling the thick curtains across the windows to keep out the winter’s chill. “I can try to prepare you for the council members, at least what I know of them.” She took a deep breath, thinking about the group. “Well, there is Ian, whom you have met. He is the only child, but I give him credit. He is not chomping at the bit to take over, as I have seen in other neighboring areas. Instead, he is patient, not eager to have his father step down. He seems content with his ample free time for drinking and wenching.”

  “I suppose that is better than having an antagonistic relationship,” mused Lucia between bites. “How does his father view this?”

  Ellie chuckled. “Ian’s father, Lord Edmund, is of course the Lord of this town. He takes a very relaxed view toward war, and has supported his son in his lassitude. Both have said they want to avoid fighting if they can. Now that war seems nigh upon us, they are working to defend our lands, as well they should.”

  The girl tapped a finger to her lips. “Then there is Matthew, who helped you when you arrived here. He is one of our brothers who strive to guide us. He has been praying for a sign to help give us a direction.”

  “Who controls the soldiers?” asked Lucia as she nibbled on the greens. The vegetables were dry and tasteless, which was understandable because they had undoubtedly been stored since the harvest some three months past. “He will probably be the one I need to speak with most, if I get the chance.”

  Would they accept her help? Believe what she had to say? Care what a woman thought? Lucia dismissed the questions for now and concentrated on listening for pieces of information that could help her puzzle out her next steps. At least the fog that had plagued her these past days was finally clearing.

  “Captain of the Guard? That would be Hector. He is a bear of a man, and a fine warrior. Although for the past few weeks Stephen has been giving him advice. Now there is a man...”

  Ellie shivered and smoothed her dress out unconsciously. “Stephen is much different than Ian. Ian is all grace and elegance, where Stephen is a wanderer.” She said the word almost with distaste.

  Lucia glanced back at the chair in the corner, at the oil lamp which sat beside it. She could feel the draw of his eyes, smell the comforting scent of juniper and leather.

  “A wanderer?” she asked in confusion, baffled at Ellie’s reaction.

  The girl nodded. “Stephen’s family once owned the lands to the north; the Grays razed the area early on. Stephen has been Lord E
dmund’s ward for nearly twenty years – but he never really fit in here. You can see it in his clothes, his eyes.” She shrugged. “Now Stephen lives in the northern woods with two of his kinsmen, harassing the Grays, only visiting town for a day or two to restock his supplies.”

  “But he seems to be staying longer for now,” mused Lucia.

  Ellie nodded. “He is a skilled fighter. Even though Hector has been training all his life, and has fought some border skirmishes, he has not had much real combat experience. Lord Edmund asked Stephen to join us for the winter, to help train up every able man in preparation for the Gray advance.”

  Lucia thought to the sturdy eyes again, how he had stayed at her side. He was at the council meeting – she needed to be there as well.

  She finished her meal and pushed back her chair. “I have got to get ready. Where are my clothes?” She stood up. Her legs wobbled beneath her weight, and she closed her eyes until the vertigo ceased. With ingrained discipline, she ignored the pain and moved toward the shelves.

  Ellie hesitated a moment, then spoke up. “There are several other ladies in the keep; would you like me to see if I could borrow a dress or two for you? I am sure they would not mind.”

  Lucia was pleased to see her tunic and leggings neatly folded on the shelf, and took them down. “Thank you very much, but no,” she replied gently. “I really would feel most comfortable in my own things.” She shook out the tunic and held it before her.

  The blue uniform brought back a wealth of memories of those she loved, of the four she recently rode with who wore similar outfits. Her anger was returning, and it made her feel strong. “These are the trappings of the protector of a people,” she told Ellie with pride, looking over the tunic. “Our soldiers work hard to prove themselves worthy of wearing the colors. Our townsfolk can rely on someone in these clothes with their lives.”

  She laid the items out on the bed. First she pulled on the tight black leggings, then put her head through the opening of the loose, deep blue tunic. A leather belt went on next, fastened with a bronze buckle shaped like a hawk. She accepted Ellie’s help with fastening the lacings and pulling the black cloak over her shoulders.

  Ellie gave Lucia’s hair a final brushing as Lucia sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the black leather boots. The young maid asked, “Would you like me to braid any ribbons into your hair?” Ellie’s hands moved rhythmically down the full length of the thick, brunette locks, working out the knots. “Perhaps a head covering of some sort?”

  Lucia hardly heard the question - she was mentally preparing for the meeting ahead. “I always wear it in a simple braid,” she responded absently, stamping her foot soundly into her boot. She took the brush from Ellie and briskly worked the weave, her hands moving automatically from long practice. She fastened the braid at the bottom with a copper pin.

  Stephen’s warm eyes came to her again, and she put a hand hesitantly to her side, to the wound he had carefully tended. He had seen her at her worst, feverish and delusional. What would he think of her when she was more herself? Would he approve?

  “How do I look?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Very crisp” commented Ellie, looking her over critically. “Here, let me adjust your brooch.” Lucia’s mouth quirked as Ellie gave the intricate clasp holding Lucia’s cloak a twist - it had been fine, but the gesture touched her. “Oh, you will not need that,” Ellie added as Lucia reached for her sword and scabbard. “There are never any dangers in our halls.”

  Lucia’s response was automatic. “My sword always goes with me.” Seeing the confused look in Ellie’s eyes, she added more gently, “No fighter should ever be caught without some form of protection, even in a friendly area. What if there was an attack, and I was called on to help defend?”

  Ellie nodded uncertainly.

  Lucia cinched the belt tight around the scabbard, then nodded to Ellie with a look of the bravado she was trying to muster. “I am off to the council meeting. Try to keep out of trouble until I return.”

  She smiled at Ellie, turned, and walked slowly, but steadily, out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Lucia stood for a moment gazing at the stone hallway, marveling at its width and elegance. The building complex she lived in from birth, along with the few she had visited during her life, were narrow and dark with twisting passageways, narrow arrow-slit windows, and stairs steep enough to foil would-be attackers. Her home keep’s rooms reeked with the musty smells from people living for weeks, often months, in close quarters. The walls and floors, half-stone, half-dirt, were usually slick with moisture. Even with maids carrying fresh herbs into the rooms every morning, most of the building’s occupants tried to find some excuse to venture daily into the fresh winter air.

  Apparently this keep had been designed primarily for comfort rather than defense. While the large windows were shuttered, she could imagine a bolt or projectile sailing clear through the decorative thin wood. Peering out through the crack between the panes, she could see the town below was laid out in neat lines, easy for an invading force to move through. The lush forest nearly came up to the outer walls of the town. Her father would have had that cleared out in a wide swath to give the watch an unimpeded view of their territory, and attackers no easy way to breach the walls.

  She shook her head and drew her eyes back to the hall. A delicate carpet ran the length of the hallway, adding a splash of burgundy to the light grey of the stones. A breeze blew through the hallway, stirring the orange flames in the polished brass sconces and making the wall tapestries depicting past victories sway.

  Lucia looked in both directions down the hallway, then turned right toward the sound of voices. The air grew warmer and more comfortable as she went down a flight of stone steps wide enough to ride a horse up. A polished stone banister graced either side of the steps, and the burgundy carpet which ran down the center of each step was an exquisite work of art. The smell of roast steer wafted through the air, mixed with a myriad of spices. Lucia could hear the deep rumble of men’s voices in a heated discussion as she turned the corner and entered the great hall.

  Lucia stopped at the bottom stair and looked around. The hall was obviously built for enormous banquets; the room was spectacular. To the right, a great entrance rose a full two stories. Four smaller archways led off to smaller passageways on the left. Each was surmounted by a burgundy banner bearing a rearing white unicorn. A massive, oak table, covered with strewn maps and candelabras, stretched down the center of the room. Numerous smaller pine tables, currently unoccupied and barren, were placed around it.

  Five men were standing at the far end of the central table. They were poking at a large parchment map and gesturing to various portions of it. Each seemed to have his own opinion about what to do.

  Lucia gazed out at the scene, taking in each detail with careful attention. She had seen this same scenario numerous times in her own home. Ever since her coming of age she had been invited by her father to the many military meetings he held. At first his advisors had balked, but she had proven herself shrewd and quick in spite of her youth, and now they gave her an opportunity to speak when she had a suggestion to offer.

  But this was not her home court, where her father ran things and where, she was aware enough to admit, he had smoothed a number of ruffled feathers on her behalf. This was undoubtedly an environment where women had little voice in matters of combat.

  She squared her shoulders. Although she had no intentions of stirring up a debate about that, she at least had to convince these men that she had information vitally important to their decisions, and that she could be relied on. She would be as respectful and proper as she could in order to build that trust.

  As she had many times before, she gathered her courage and confidence before she strode forward.

  The court page, entranced with the proceedings, started in surprise as Lucia came up next to him and spoke softly into his ear. He cleared his throat quickly, and announced, “My Lord, Lady Lucia of the
Keilder realm requests permission to join your meeting.”

  The heads of the five snapped up to survey the newcomer, and when the robed person at the head of the table nodded his head, the page motioned Lucia to enter the room.

  Lucia chose a slow, measured step, extremely conscious of the exact image she was trying to project. She willed herself to hide any sign of weakness and took in deep breaths against the pain from her wound. She needed to be strong, if only for the duration of this talk. Her cloak billowed out behind her, even in this slight breeze. She held her head up, meeting the gaze of each man in turn as she approached the table.

  She decided the middle-aged man on the end must be Lord Edmund. He wore an immense, emerald-encrusted pendant around his neck on a thick, gold chain. His clothing was exquisitely tailored and made of a lush, burgundy fabric. Despite his advancing age his body was still strong, and the keen, piercing look in his eyes as he assessed her made Lucia believe that this man was not going to willingly give up his rule for some time to come.

  Her gaze passed to the young, blond man on Lord Edmund’s right. This must be Ian, resplendent in his court clothes. She remembered him now as the teller of fantastic tales in her dream world. Dressed in a bright burgundy tunic and white leggings, his intricately carved belt supported a richly jeweled dagger on his hip.

  Ian seemed to be a prince out of a fairy tale, eager to become a heroic king. She reminded herself that he was not that eager – he was quite content to have the appearance with none of the responsibilities.

  Ian had fixed Lucia with a stare so intense that it verged on predatory. Lucia quickly moved her gaze to the next person at the table.

  Ah, this must be Hector, she thought with a nod. The man wore a gruff beard and grizzled hair, and struck Lucia as a bear just coming from his den after a long winter. He wore two swords and looked quite capable of wielding them both simultaneously. Even in this warm room he wore studded leather armor, and a thick wolf skin was draped over the back of his chair. He seemed to find this intrusion inconsequential and appeared anxious to get back to the task at hand.