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

by Lisa Shea

  Matthew shrugged. “Nothing unusual. The soldiers have caught a few scrapes and bruises. I am sure there will be far worse, once we get into the thick of battle.”

  He nodded to her, then turned and left. She listened as his footsteps faded off into the distance.

  She found herself hoping, praying, searching for even the faintest sound of that stride she knew so well, of the soft leather boots moving steadily along the corridor. She desperately wanted to talk with Stephen, to hear his version of the encounters with the Grays, to talk with him about what had gone on between them before the attack. It became an obsession with her, a glowing desire, and she strove to tamp it down. She could not see him, could not open that door. She had vowed not to spend any more time with him.

  Tuesday morning dawned with grey mists and a dreary wind whistling outside her window. The lethargy of long bed rest gnawed at her; she willed herself to push off the covers, to climb out of bed. She fought off the hollow in her heart as she prepared to dress and face the world again.

  Her emotions twisted in a turmoil that she felt would never heal. Her connection with Stephen had developed because his outlook on life so deeply resonated with her own. She wasn’t projecting her fantasies on him and hoping he’d match. They had faced the fire together, and come through stronger.

  Lucia sighed. In the end, it mattered little if they were well matched or not. The truth was that Stephen was bound to another. She could not, would not, interfere with that. She resolved, firmly, to let Stephen and Anna work out their problems, unhindered, without any interference from her. If she loved Stephen, well, then, she loved him. Her love would have to go unrequited.

  Ian was waiting for Lucia at the foot of the stairs, and she allowed him to escort her over to the head table. His eyes drew down her body. “You are looking so much better,” he offered her warmly. “When I first found you, covered with blood, I thought I had lost you for good! Thank goodness it was only spray from Stephen’s fighting efforts.”

  Lucia bit her lip, took her seat, and looked down at the basket of rolls. She felt no desire to correct Ian. She did not want to talk about that afternoon at all, to remember how ably Stephen had stood at her side, the pure joy in having a partner so in sync with her thoughts.

  “It is fortunate the Grays came when they did,” commented Ian idly as he speared a chicken leg with his dagger. “While we were manning the walls more fully, we have come across several issues which need prompt attention. We will need every man available to take care of these.” He took a solid bite of the meat, washing it down with a slug of mead. “I am afraid it will be about three weeks before we can free up a group to escort you down to Harwich.” He smiled at her widely. “You would not mind, of course, healing up with me by your side?”

  Lucia paled. “Three weeks?”

  He glanced at her slyly. “Three, I imagine, should do the trick,” he muttered, taking another bite of his chicken.

  Lucia sighed, looking down. Her leg wound gave a sharp tweak, and she moved her hand absently down to rub against it. Matthew had said the leg needed time to heal. She knew better than to risk an infection. As it was, she knew she would spend the rest of the day back in bed.

  She sighed. While she did want to get down to Harwich immediately, it would be quite a time before her brother and the rest of her group met up with her there. If she was going to sit and wait somewhere, it might as well be here rather than alone in a strange port town.

  “Of course,” she agreed quietly. “I am at your leisure. I realize your guards have many other duties to attend to, rather than to escort a lone woman on her travels.”

  “You will enjoy your time here,” promised Ian with a smile. “I will make it my personal mission in life.”

  Chapter 12

  Lucia took a sip of her mead, the women’s babble purling around her, becoming a familiar sound. She was working on a chemise now, and to her pleasure the stitchwork was coming out even and neat.

  She looked over to Anna. “I think I will try a short ride this afternoon,” she told the blonde with a smile. “My leg seems to be healing up well enough.”

  Anna’s brows creased in concern. “Are you sure you are ready for that? What does Matthew say?”

  Lucia tweaked her smile into a wry grin. “Matthew says I should trust in my instincts, and go with what feels right.”

  * * *

  Lucia hobbled her steed at the far side of the clearing, looking around in remembrance. Only five days past, she and Stephen were standing here, side by side, facing the enemy. She could still feel the thrill in her body, the intense pride, the heart-warming feeling that everything was just as it should be.

  There were hoofbeat and suddenly desire and fear warred side by side within her breast. He could not come to her. She was not ready yet, not prepared for …

  A horse rode into the clearing, and she was swept with relief and disappointment. Marcus reined to a stop, a smile on his face, looking around at the surrounding area and then down at her.

  “Good afternoon,” he greeted warmly.

  “Good afternoon, Marcus,” she returned, drawing a smile on her face.

  “I will be patrolling this area regularly, so there should be no repeat of last week’s excitement,” he informed her with a grin. “I will be by every twenty minutes or so.”

  Lucia could not tell if she was warmed or saddened by the news. “I appreciate that,” she found herself saying.

  He glanced around the clearing again. “Is there anything you would want?”

  Lucia could think of exactly what she wanted, but she pushed the thought aside with fierce effort. She moved her gaze around, bringing it to her horse, to the bow and quiver tied to his side.

  “A hay bale?” she asked.

  He nodded at once. “Certainly, I will see that it is here by tomorrow.”

  She smiled in earnest then. “Thank you Marcus, that would be perfect.”

  * * *

  Lucia tried to concentrate on the hole she was mending in the apron, but Anna’s furrowed brow kept calling to her. Finally she looked up, spreading the cloth across her lap.

  “Well then, out with it,” she prodded.

  “Are you sure you are really up to practicing archery?” Anna asked, her eyes going down to Lucia’s leg.

  Lucia shook her head. She knew exactly where this question was coming from, exactly who had voiced the concern.

  “I am quite sure; I will be fine,” responded Lucia. So he was going to try to restrict her movements from afar now?

  Anna’s brow creased in confusion. “But, from what I understand, you need your legs planted firmly in order to shoot a bow well.”

  Lucia doubted that Anna had ever held a bow, never mind come up with that argument on her own. “I am being careful with my leg,” she reassured her friend. “I will be doing my practice mounted for now until my leg has more time to heal.”

  Anna’s brows came together. “Mounted?”

  Lucia nodded. “Shooting from horseback is an important skill. So I will simply figure out a way to arrange the hay bale at the height of a man standing. Then I can ride Troy around and practice from various angles – all without bothering my leg in the least. To my leg, it will be as if I am sitting in this chair.”

  Anna’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I understand!”

  * * *

  Lucia’s mouth tweaked up as she rode into the clearing. A platform had been built at the far end, and the hay bale was arranged vertically to represent the torso of a standing man. It was just the right height, and the space around it gave her ample room to practice from various angles and distances.

  It was only a few moments before Marcus had joined her. “So, what do you think?”

  She nodded in approval. “That will do quite nicely,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he returned. “This way you will have something to occupy your time while you are out here.”

  Lucia dropped her eyes. Before, her t
ime had been occupied with wonderful conversation, with sharing discussions with Stephen like she’d had with few others. And now they would be gone …

  Marcus’ voice dropped low. “You know, if you are lonely out here, I think I could find a way to help with that.”

  Lucia’s heartbeat quickened. Would he put in a word with Stephen?

  “Ian has been asking his father, again, for time off in the afternoon. That way he could come and spend time talking with you while you rested out here.”

  Lucia blushed fiercely. Why did it seem that everyone was pushing the man at her? Her voice was firm. “No.”

  Marcus looked at her in curiosity, and she blushed even more deeply. Ian was her host, after all. She did not want to disgrace him in any way. “What I mean,” she amended, “is that Ian is a skilled fighter and a talented teacher. With the assault on the Grays coming up so soon, I know it is critical for him to be with his troops at every possible moment.”

  Marcus nodded. “Of course. It is good for you to make that sacrifice.”

  If Lucia’s face could turn any more crimson, it would have burst into flame.

  * * *

  Anna’s eyes were dancing with delight, and finally Lucia put down the tunic she was repairing and turned to her.

  “Yes?”

  Anna gave her a nudge. “And here I thought you were not interested in Ian,” she smiled.

  Lucia sighed, shaking her head.

  Anna leant forward, a grin growing on her face. “I know, we could have a double wedding!” she cried out. “Just think, you and me, and Stephan and Ian, all standing on the chapel steps side by side!”

  The vision came clearly into Lucia’s head, of Stephen beside her, the priest there before them. And then Stephen was turning away, taking another woman’s hands into his own …

  Anna’s eyes brightened. “Ooooo,” she sighed in delight. “I have it. You need to make Ian a gift.”

  Lucia looked at her friend in confusion. “An engagement gift? I think you are leaping a bit too quickly here.”

  “No, no,” corrected Anna. “A thank you gift. You made that cloak for his father, in thanks for his hospitality. The one you plan on giving him on the day you leave. But you do not have anything for Ian.” A smile came to her lips. “After all, he is the one who rescued you.”

  “He and Stephen,” corrected Lucia automatically. Her mind went back to that snowy evening. Stephen had knelt before her, she had put her blade to his neck, and he had not faltered. He had trusted her with his life.

  Anna’s voice shook her from her memories. “Ah, but it was Ian who challenged Stephen to a race. If he had not, who knows if they would have found you in time!”

  Lucia shook her head at the creative logic. Undoubtedly that was exactly how Ian saw the event.

  Anna patted her on the arm. “In any case, I know exactly what you should make.”

  “And that would be?”

  “A decorative sword sheath!”

  Lucia blinked in uncertainty. “Out of fabric?”

  Anna nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. He saw one on a trip to the market last summer and has been talking about it ever since. It looks like a functional scabbard, but it can have the colors and flourishes that only fine fabric offers.”

  Lucia gave up trying to understand it. “If that is what he wants, then I will do my best.”

  * * *

  Marcus arrived just as she was sending her last arrow into the hay man’s chest. He smiled at the tight grouping, then went over to retrieve them, bringing them to her.

  “So, I hear that you are making a scabbard for Ian,” he said by way of a welcome.

  Lucia flushed. “That was supposed to be a surprise,” she muttered.

  Marcus brought a hand to his chest. “Not to worry, he will hear not a word about it. Only a few people know.”

  Lucia thought she could name all three people in that chain of communication.

  She sighed, struck again by how silly it seemed to make a scabbard for a sword out of fabric. “I do not even know how I will do it,” she admitted. “I am more used to thinking in terms of functionality. I am worried that I will waste valuable fabric while I figure out how it should be done.”

  * * *

  Anna plunked an enormous pile of burgundy fabric down alongside Lucia’s chair. “You make all the tests you want,” she encouraged her friend. “In certain matters, persistence and care are what pay off! And besides, I have more burgundy fabric than I know what to do with.”

  Lucia drew her eyes across the reams of fabric. “Apparently you do,” she agreed. “Well then, let us get started.”

  * * *

  Marcus’ face creased into a smile as he stopped in on his patrol. “So, how goes the sheath made of silk?”

  Lucia chuckled. “Well, at least I have ample material to practice on. At the rate things are going, I may need it.”

  * * *

  Sunday morning dawned with streaming sunshine and high-floating clouds. Lucia lowered her eyes as she moved into the small chapel, as she slid down the pew to Stephen’s side. It was the closest she had been to him in a week, since she had seen him after mass the previous Sunday. A long week of only glimpsing him at meals, of torments and longings.

  Ian slid in on her right side, his face glowing. “We will all celebrate this afternoon, with a delicious feast of wild boar,” he chortled, nudging her in the side.

  “Oh? What is the occasion?”

  “Why, it is exactly a month since we found you, and brought you here!” he returned, his eyes bright with delight. “Surely you cannot say you have forgotten. I have been counting every day.”

  Lucia shook her head in confusion. Surely that could not be true. Had it really been a full month? But reviewing the events, she realized that he was right. It had felt so comfortable, so easy with Stephen’s conversations, his steady presence by her side.

  And now that he had been taken from her, she felt the absence with every fiber of her body.

  * * *

  Lucia had finally figured out just the right shape which would mold to the sword and not be cut by its draw. She looked at the pile of scraps she had created, littered at her feet.

  “So just why do you have so much fabric?” she asked Anna in curiosity, drawing a portion of it up into her lap.

  “For the outfits, of course!” cried Anna in glee. “Everyone in the wedding party will match. I know at most weddings that people simply wear their Sunday finest, but ever since I was a little girl, I had visions of my ideal ceremony. Ribbons of burgundy, flowing across the Penrith courtyard, drifting like summer streams. Like a waving field of wildflowers. My wedding day will be absolutely perfect – just the way I always imagined.”

  Lucia glanced down at the rich blue of her own dress, the color Stephen had said was his own.

  “But I thought Stephen’s color was dark blue?”

  Anna shrugged. “This is my wedding day,” she pointed out. “One I have dreamed about for years. Surely he will not be concerned about what color I am clothed in.”

  * * *

  Marcus shook his head as he came into the clearing on his rounds. “I might advise staying clear of Stephen this afternoon,” he advised her with a wry grin.

  Lucia flushed. With the way Stephen had been actively avoiding her, she would be lucky to lay eyes on him for three seconds at a time.

  “Why, what is wrong?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Something has gotten him annoyed,” he commented. “Stephen tends to hold in his feelings, but I have known the man for years. Something has wriggled under his skin.”

  * * *

  Anna’s face lit up in delight as she leant back in her cushioned chair. “It is February 29th,” she advised her friend with a grin. “Traditionally, this is when the woman is allowed to propose to the man she desires.” Her eyes glanced toward the great hall. “I think I know who you should go talk with!”

  Lucia shook her head. “I appreciate the thought, but I am
leaving in two weeks,” she reminded her friend. “I hardly think rushing things would be appropriate.”

  “Oh, but you must be back in time for my wedding,” pleaded Anna, her face going pale. “I have it all planned out!”

  “I am sure I will be,” soothed Lucia. “It is only a few weeks travel each way, even at a slow pace. Plus, we want return before the Grays attack in force.”

  Anna’s face darkened. “Those darn Grays. I cannot believe they are interfering with my perfect wedding plans.”

  It occurred to Lucia that Anna had, indeed, laid out and gotten exactly what she wanted. A thought occurred to her. “Lucia, did you talk to your father on February 29th?”

  Peals of laughter burst out of Anna at the idea. “No, you silly,” she countered. “I get my way, no matter what the date.” She leant forward. “But I am sure Ian would love to hear any plans of yours during lunch!”

  * * *

  Marcus glanced at Lucia as he pulled the arrows from the target. “Your groups are getting better,” he praised her. “The leg is healing up?”

  She nodded. “I think I might be ready for practice from the ground tomorrow.”

  He came up before her, handing over the arrows. “So, how was your lunch with Ian?”

  She flushed. This communication chain that had formed was becoming a bit too much. “It was fine,” she answered tightly, her face warming with heat. Indeed, Ian had made all manner of hints and prods that he would be open to her requests of any kind. It had been all she could do to get through the meal and escape him.

  She dropped her eyes. “Perhaps when I return with my family’s forces I will stay with Anna at Kendal, and we can launch our assault from there,” she muttered under her breath.

  * * *

  The sewing-room women were all crowded in excitement around a red-headed lady, and Lucia moved up to Anna’s side. “What is going on?”