Seeking The Truth - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 11)

by Shea,Lisa

  Morgan turned on her heel, walking toward the stables at a fast clip, Oliver and Christian striding along beside her in silent escort. In a few moments they had saddled their steeds. Morgan did not look back toward the keep as she spurred her horse out through the gates and down the long road.

  The night spun by in a blur. She knew she was drinking too much, knew from long experience that she should pace herself better, eat more food. She could not bring herself to care. Christian and Oliver sat on either side of her, talking little, waving away friends who came near. She stared at the table in front of her, at the next shot before her, focusing at what was before her. She strove as hard as she could not to remember Sean’s eyes, Cassandra’s hand on his arm, the two of them leaving together …

  The tears welled, and she blinked quickly, willing them away. The bastard was married. She chuckled with a harsh snap of her head. She should have known it, should have known he was too good to be true. How long had it been, after all? Two weeks? She should count herself lucky that she had found out now, before she had really become fond of him.

  She downed the shot, the welcoming warmth swelling through her, the muffling blanket descending over her thoughts. She knew well enough how to drive him from her mind. She looked up at Oliver, giving him a ghost of a smile. “I could use one of your world famous massages,” she suggested quietly.

  Oliver nodded, patting her hand before coming around to stand behind her. He kneaded at the knots, and she leant her head forward, giving herself in to him. He seemed more tender, somehow, more gentle as he moved, and she really did begin to relax under his care, the stress and pain of the day slowly fading.

  The room drifted into the distance.

  *

  She gave herself a small shake. She was on her horse, and they were coming into the cobblestone of the main courtyard. She had no memory of having mounted, having ridden the distance. Christian and Oliver were close on either side of her, guiding her horse through the doorway of the stables. Then Christian was below her, helping to catch her as she slid her way down. Angus waved them off with a knowing nod, and the two men escorted her, one at each arm as she stumbled wearily toward the stair. She tripped on the first step, nearly tumbling forward, and Christian swept her up without a word, bringing her into a close carry. Oliver pressed ahead, opening the main door of the keep, preceding them down the hallway.

  “Morgan!” came a rough cry, and she blinked her eyes open to see Sean coming toward them, his face tight with concern.

  Oliver was between them in a heartbeat, his shoulders squared.

  “Oh look!” called out a bright voice from the back of the hall, and an angelic form floated into view, a smile stretched across her face. “Had a wee bit too much to drink, has she?”

  Oliver raised a warning finger to Sean, almost daring him to take another step, Then he turned with Christian, the two of them taking the stairs up toward Morgan’s room.

  Oliver pressed open the door to her room, then froze in the archway, putting a hand up to Christian. Christian obeyed the silent command instantly, turning, snugging her up in his arms. Oliver was gone in the room for a few long minutes, then he waved Christian in.

  Morgan glanced around as Christian strode across the room, gently laid her on her bed. The candles were all gone, the flowers missing from the dressers. Everything was as it had been before, as it had always been – and she felt the change as a loss, as a hollow absence.

  Christian settled into the chair at her side, and she rolled to look at him, her eyes half open.

  “Mead,” she requested wearily. “Make it a double.”

  Christian half smiled, reaching forward to pat her tenderly on the arm. “You get some sleep,” he advised her softly, stroking her hair back from her face.

  She closed her eyes, feeling his hand on her face as a gentle soothing sensation, and soon she was lost in a blissful darkness.

  Chapter 12

  Morgan felt as if her head would split open like a watermelon carved at a summer picnic. She moaned, turning to bury her head in her pillow. Time passed, the pieces of her skull resetting and rearranging in slow motion, the throbbing coming and going.

  A breeze blew against her curtains. A shaft of sunlight burst into the room, and she cried out in agony, feeling it pierce her brain with needle-like precision. There was a movement at her side and the light vanished instantly, her shutters pulled shut with a quiet thud.

  In a moment a pair of hands was at her back, helping her to sit up, offering her a mug. She smelled the lavender before the cool liquid began trickling down her throat. She drank it down gratefully, closing her eyes, leaning back against the firm embrace.

  “Come on,” offered Oliver quietly, and even though she knew he was whispering she winced at the thunder of the noise. He saw her flinch, dropped his voice even lower. “Let us get some food into you.”

  Morgan felt like a babe in swaddling clothes as he helped her sit up, brought over the tan dress to draw down over her chemise. Every movement brought with it a wave of nausea, and she focused on her breaths, on drawing fresh air in, releasing the old air out. She could not remember being this badly off for many years, not since the pilgrims from Scotland had come through town.

  Oliver slid his arm around her waist, and she leant against him gratefully as he gently guided her out her door. Her eyes flicked to the wall opposite, where Sean had been waiting for her each morning. The hallway was empty.

  She shaded her eyes against the morning brilliance as they came down into the main hall. Breakfast was long since over, and to her relief the hall was relatively empty. She glanced over to the right and stumbled for a moment. Sean was sitting on a bench before the fireplace, with Cassandra at his side, the pair of them facing Roger and Peter. The four looked up as she entered the room, Sean’s face tense, his posture rigid. Cassandra leant over to whisper something to him, and he shook her off as if she were a gnat buzzing at his ear.

  Roger glanced at the others before cautiously getting to his feet. He walked slowly, matching Morgan’s lethargic speed, waiting to intercept them until they reached the head table.

  Oliver maintained himself on Morgan’s right, keeping himself steadily between her and Roger.

  Roger’s voice was soft. “Good morning, Morgan,” he offered as she wearily seated herself at the table. A servant hurried over with a trencher of eggs and a mug of ale. She reached for the ale first, taking in a long draw, feeling it flow through her with grateful appreciation, then she began working on the eggs.

  Oliver’s voice held an edge. “Why not go back to your friend,” he suggested. He remained standing beside Morgan, one hand resting on the table, his body in between the two.

  Morgan took in a long breath, then let it out. She looked at her food for a moment, then put her hand gently on Oliver’s, looking up. “It is not Roger’s fault,” she chastised him gently. “I should not take out my feelings on everyone here. I cannot believe Roger knew anything about this.” She looked up at Roger, her eyes weary.

  To her surprise, a flash of guilt crossed Roger’s face, and a fresh wave of shock blasted through her. She had resigned herself to Sean’s perfidy – but Roger as well?

  She bolted to her feet, almost overcome with the series of betrayals. “You knew he was married?” she shouted, her world tilting beneath her feet. “Was this a running joke for you all? Let us all laugh while a married man has his way with Morgan?” It seemed every person in the keep was staring at her, chortling at her stupidity, and she swept her hand to the dagger at her side, fury erupting in a flash.

  Sean was halfway to his feet; Peter was holding him back; Roger was pushing hard past Oliver to kneel at her feet, pulling her back down, freezing as Oliver pressed a dagger sharply into his side.

  Roger’s voice came in a rush. “God’s Teeth, Morgan, I swear to you I would never do anything to harm or dishonor you,” he vowed with heat, his eyes locked on hers. “I knew nothing of this marriage. It was a complete sho
ck to me.”

  Oliver hesitated a moment, then drew back his blade, resheathing it with a quick movement, turning his gaze for a moment to stare at the trio by the fireplace. All three eyes watched them with tense focus, but the two men had remained in place, both gazing with serious attention at their friend.

  Morgan stared at the man before her with growing coldness. “Perhaps you did not know the depths of Sean’s sin,” she bit out. “Still, you knew something,” she growled, certain beyond doubt, staring fixedly into his eyes.

  He could not hold the gaze; he looked down, letting out a breath. The silence stretched out for a long minute. Finally, he spoke again. “I knew Cassandra was nearby,” he admitted quietly, his voice pitched for Morgan and Oliver alone. “Even so, I never dreamt that she would come here, seek to find Sean. I had no reason to think she would. She was from his past; thirteen years in the past.”

  In the past, but her name had been on his lips only days ago. Morgan winced at the memory, at how he had still longed for her, still regretted leaving her behind. She found her eyes drifting over to where Sean sat. His eyes met hers with a shadowed gaze. He was sitting forward, almost at the edge of his seat, his body tense, poised.

  Cassandra was leaning over now, whispering something into his ear with a smile. Sean did not respond; his eyes glanced across to Peter, who sat in an identical posture, then returned to meet Morgan’s.

  Morgan turned away from Sean, turned to face the table, at the reminder of normalcy and the way her life had run, day in and day out, for so long. She grabbed at a roll, ripping it in half, taking a bite. She needed to regain her life. She needed things to go back to the way they had been.

  Roger waited without a word at her side, bent on one knee, his face sorrowful, downcast.

  Morgan reached forward, took a long pull on her ale, placing the mug carefully down again. This situation was not Roger’s fault. Finally she let out a long sigh, turning, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “I am not your priest. You do not need absolution from me,” she commented wearily. “Sean’s actions do not fall on you to answer for. I know you were torn between your honor and your friend, and I do not envy you.”

  Roger stood, then, and looked down at her. “You deserve the best,” he bit out, his voice tense. He pressed his lips together, biting back whatever else he might have said, then turned and rejoined his friends by the fireplace.

  Oliver waited until Roger was sitting beside Peter before he stepped forward, taking a position at Morgan’s right. He flexed and unflexed his fingers, his shoulders tight.

  “Roger had no right to bother you,” he snapped angrily.

  Morgan lent against him gently, almost smiling. “You are a wonderful friend,” she praised him. “I could not ask for better.”

  She finished her meal in undisturbed quiet, and then Oliver moved with her to the gardens. To her surprise Daniel was amongst the herbs, a basket under his arm, working with the oregano. The moment he saw her he started, almost running as he headed back toward the keep. Morgan sighed. Now she was scaring off children as well. Who knew what other wonders awaited her.

  Oliver settled Morgan on the stone bench in the gazebo, then stood to one side, gazing out across the lavender. Morgan ran a hand wearily through her hair, then looked again at the angle of the light.

  “Should you be with the troops, Oliver? It has got to be -”

  Oliver shook his head. “Christian can handle them just fine for today,” he rebutted quietly. “Someone needs to be here by your side.”

  Lady Donna’s voice came gently from behind them. “You go on, Oliver,” she offered with a smile. “I believe I can sit with Morgan for a while and keep her company.”

  Oliver nodded to Lady Donna, bowed fondly to Morgan, then turned, heading off at a half trot toward the training field. Lady Donna moved into the soft shade of the gazebo, joining her on the bench.

  “My dear, I am so sorry,” offered Lady Donna, patting her hand gently. “I had no idea at all that Sean was married. When it seemed that Sean was becoming fond of you, and you of him, I admit it seemed almost perfect to me. I know how much you like it here, and with Sean coming on to inherit the property someday …”

  Morgan winced at the thought, moving her eyes out over the flowers. Yes, Sean would inherit her paradise, and at his side would be Cassandra, walking through the halls, presiding over the table, sleeping in his bed.

  Morgan shook her head, her voice coming in a hoarse rasp. “That is a long way off yet,” she offered with a wry smile. “You will live for many decades yet, and we will grow old and wild together, you and I. Sean can be a soldier in London until then.”

  “Yes, of course,” agreed Lady Donna, giving her a gentle nudge in the side. “You and I shall have parties, and dances, and go riding. What need have we for anything more?”

  “Things will go back to the way they have always been,” mused Morgan wistfully. “In time this will fade, become a bad dream that we laugh about.”

  “Like that time with the fisherman from … oh, somewhere out west,” pointed out Lady Donna, her voice taking on a more cheerful note. “Remember him, when you became obsessed with his strong hands, and Christian nearly started a riot during their arm wrestling match?”

  Morgan did chuckle at the memory. “I was upset at Christian for weeks,” she teased with a grin. “He deserved it, too! That fisherman was a god of the sea.”

  “Where was he from, that fisherman of yours,” mused Lady Donna, her eyes sparkling. “Was it Gloucester? Portsmouth?”

  Morgan’s mind skipped through names of fishing villages she knew, little huddles of houses against the raging might of the sea. She thought suddenly of Cassandra’s small town, the fishermen that Sean had spent time with, all those years ago. The mirth went out of her as quickly as it had come. Sean had found his goddess of the sea, had pined for her, and his goddess had returned to him.

  “Where did Roger say he had seen her?” asked Morgan with weary tenseness. She needed to find control of the situation, to make some order of her mind.

  “Seen who? What about Roger?” asked Lady Donna in confusion.

  “Roger said he had seen Cassandra before. Where? Was she snooping around town?”

  Lady Donna blinked at her, shaking her head. “No, she did not stop in town, she rode straight here. At least that’s what I gathered from what she said and what I heard from others in town. I am not sure …” she thought for a moment. “I suppose I thought I heard him mention Cassandra’s name during the party, when he was talking with the lawyers for Eli’s estate, but it could of course be another woman with the same name.”

  “Maybe,” agreed Morgan, her mind darkly ruminating.

  “Here, my darling, we need to find something to do,” announced Lady Donna brightly. “How about I read to you from the Iliad. That will pass the time nicely.”

  Morgan nodded in acceptance, and in short order they had set up a blanket, a mug of ale, and a wooden bowl of grapes. Morgan laid herself out on a pillow, closing her eyes, letting Lady Donna’s quiet voice wash over her and through her, transporting her to another world.

  *

  Morgan blinked herself back to the present with an effort. The shadows had grown quite dark, and Oliver’s hand rested easily on her shoulder. Lady Donna was gathering up her cloak, smiling with gratitude as Christian helped her up to her feet. Christian put an arm down to Morgan next, and Morgan felt she had joined Lady Donna in age as her body creakily resisted her efforts to stand. Finally she was on her feet, and together the four moved in to the main table.

  The others were already seated, and Morgan kept her eyes lowered as she found her place, felt Oliver and Christian flank her on either side. She drank down a long draw of her ale, taking a bun, ripping off a piece, chewing on it thoughtfully.

  Cassandra spoke up with cheerful brightness. “Lady Donna, how long have you had those lavender plants?”

  “Why, they were planted by my mother,” reminis
ced Lady Donna fondly. “The plants were brought over from France, I believe.”

  “I was just thinking how gorgeous that area could be with a fresh planting of iris,” mused Cassandra with a tinkling laugh. “The iris is such a noble plant, full of elegance.”

  “Yes, that is certainly a thought,” responded Lady Donna neutrally.

  Morgan took in a long breath, let it out again with focus. She could get through the evening. The last thing she wanted was to lose her temper, to turn into a raging monster. At the thought, she remembered how Daniel had fled at her approach in the gardens, and she looked up, seeking him out. The boy sat at his mother’s side, almost in her shadow, his eyes wary, nervous. Her heart went out to the lad, caught up in such confusion.

  “I saw you by the herbs earlier,” she mentioned quietly to the boy. “You are welcome to them any time, you know. They are there for the entire keep to use and enjoy.”

  Daniel looked up shyly, his eyes reflecting thanks, then winced as his mother spun to glare down at him.

  “Daniel, you were supposed to be getting fitted for some leather armor so you can begin your sparring practice. I see I will have to go with you myself in the morning to get that done.”

  She turned and smiled brightly to Sean. “Sometimes a mother’s firm hand is necessary to get a child onto the right path,” she pointed out. “I will do whatever it takes to have my son get what he deserves. He is my main focus in life.”

  “Every son would dream of such a mother,” responded Sean quietly, nodding to her.

  “It has not been easy,” continued Cassandra, a hint of weary martyrdom entering her tone. “I struggled, and worked hard, but with perseverance and frugality we have made it this far. I have great hope that our hardships are finally at an end, and that Daniel will have the life he was born for.”

  Sean’s face was almost set in stone, and Morgan could see the hard tension across his shoulders. “Yes,” he agreed quietly. “You two have been through a lot. I am here for you now.” He glanced over at Daniel. “I can help Daniel with the fitting tomorrow and get him properly equipped.”