“Alyna, for you.”
He held out a piece of the sky, lustrous blue and brightly foreign against the autumn golds and browns surrounding them. A half smile curved his chiseled lips and the long ebony locks framed his jaw.
His eyes were bright with anticipation and she had a difficult time tearing her gaze away, for she wanted to lose herself in the twinned icy blue depths. Finally, slowly, she looked down to the item he held so proudly in his hands.
It was the peacock blue damask tunic, the one she had so admired the day of the joust. The gift stunned her.
Incredulous, she looked at it, then at him. “How? What?” She faltered with the words, not wishing to appear ungrateful.
Her hands trembled as she took it from him, a little awed by the idea that he had actually bought her a gift. She unfolded it and held it out in front of her.
“And these. The tailor suggested them….” His voice faded away, obviously a little embarrassed to be holding such apparent feminine items.
He handed her a snow white satin kirtle, trimmed with ermine, and a delicate silken chemise, so gossamer fine she could see his fingers through the fabric.
“They are beautiful, my lord Warin.” Tears sprang to her eyes at the unexpected gesture. “I thank you for the fine gift.”
“To see you garbed in these will be the only thanks I need.” Warin swept her a gallant bow. “My lady deserves nothing better.”
A small crowd of knights had gathered about them during the exchange and a raucous cheer went up. Alyna, disconcerted with the attention, swept a bewildered glance about, not sure where to look. Finally, she lowered her eyes to her lap, to the fine fabrics that lay there.
“Be gone,” Warin muttered to the onlookers. “Have you naught to do?”
“Go about your duties. Robert! Theobald! Off!” Gerard stepped up besides Warin and waved the men away. “Pray accept my apologies for their untoward behavior, my lord.”
“Nay,” protested Alyna. “No offense has been taken, it was but a pleasant diversion for them. I would have done the same if in their boots.”
“All the same, it is not seemly behavior to be so familiar with my lady and her lord,” Gerard said.
“My lady Alyna is correct. No harm was done, rather, I carry the blame for I chose inappropriately.” Warin swept another elegant bow towards Alyna. “My apologies.”
“Oh.” Alyna wrinkled her forehead in confusion. Did this mean he regretted the impulse that had evidently taken over his better judgement? Did he carry the blame for his choice of gift or the time he had chosen to present it? Now that she thought on it, it had been odd for him to purchase the tunic at the joust for how had he known at that time that he would have occasion to gift her with it, that he would know her sufficiently well to do so? It puzzled her.
“Alyna? The gift pleases you?” Voice anxious, Warin shifted from one foot to the other.
“Aye,” she whispered. “Aye.” Then she looked him full in the face. “I’ve never owned such a beautiful tunic.”
“I should have given it to you earlier,” he said apologetically. “For our wedding. But it happened so quickly, I didn’t think of it. Even if I had, I had no time to get it. And since then, my mind has been on other things.” She couldn’t mistake his meaning – he referred to last night. She reddened.
“There will be more occasions for me to wear it,” she replied. “And I will be proud to do so.” She caressed the tunic then held the chemise to her cheek to feel its softness. “Thank you.”
He nodded once in acknowledgement then bowed again. “By your leave, my lady.” He started to walk away.
“Warin? My—my lord? How did you know?” She forced the question out before she lost her nerve. “How did you know we would wed? Why did you buy the tunic?” Her query stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Because,” he drawled, turning around to face her again, “you brought me luck that day. And to thank you for this.” He held aloft the amber ribbon she had given him prior to the joust. “I didn’t know we would wed, I only meant to give the clothing to you when we parted.”
“Oh.” His words disappointed her. What did she expect, that he would declare himself to her? His response was perfectly reasonable, of course he would have had no ulterior motive in the purchase.
But still, hope flared in her breast. He had gone out of his way to get the tunic she had so admired. The thought comforted her.
Chapter Twelve
To the surprise of no one, Philippa stood firm on her hold of Caperun Keep. The parlez had been a farce, her disdain of Warin, Bennet and Gerard clear as they sat on their horses in the bailey.
She addressed them from the landing of the entrance turret.
“You have no claim here,” she informed them, voice dripping with insolence, violet eyes narrowed.
“I beg to differ, Lady Philippa, for I hold the writ here given by King Henry himself.” Warin waved the scroll in the air. “By his order, I am husband to Alyna and lord of these lands.”
“A forgery,” she sneered at them, seemingly unaffected by his revelation. “Do you think I’ll fall for such deception?”
“Have your Father Gilbert read it,” Warin replied reasonably.
“He isn’t here.” Her answer was short, clipped and she turned about as if to leave.
She apparently felt no threat, for her men, Odo amongst them, lined the battlements about her. They said nothing – they had no need to speak for the bristling weapons they held spoke volumes.
“I warn you, madame, I will resort to violence if needs must.” Warin’s warning was ominous, calculated to scare.
Philippa, however, was not easily browbeaten. She stopped for a moment as if considering his last words. Then, “Do as you will, then, for I hold the castle. You’ll not find it easy to breach.”
She disappeared into the turret, head high and back rigid, just daring him to attack her at this very moment.
Warin sat still for a moment as the blood began to boil within his veins. He couldn’t abide her smug air, her certainty that all was settled within her world.
Cold, steely resolve set in. His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned and the sculpted jaw took on a stubborn hue. Aye, the battle to regain Caperun Keep would be sweet justice.
“Come,” he ordered to Bennet and Gerard, wheeling Citadel about and digging his heels in. As they galloped away, Warin heard the squeal of the drawbridge being lowered and the solid thud of the gates closing.
The battle had begun.
*****
Alyna knew right away the parlez had not been successful, for the grim faces of the threesome as they entered camp spoke volumes. Hmmph, she thought, they had but to ask me and I would have told them the futility of discussion with Philippa. Philippa heeds no counsel but her own.
However, she held her peace and waited for the words to spill from Warin’s mouth.
“That one is a witch,” he snapped, addressing Alyna as he threw the reins over a hanging branch.
“Aye.”
“Verily.”
Bennet and Gerard agreed wholeheartedly as they padded along behind him.
All were obviously vexed yet a hidden current of excitement coursed through them at the prospect of warfare.
The other men crowded around Warin, Bennet and Gerard and an animated buzz filled the clearing as orders were shouted about and men stomped off to their appointed duties. Soon, shouts and whoops sounded from the surrounding forest as the search began for suitable trees with which to build a catapult and battering ram, as well as for objects to lob over the castle walls.
Alyna, watching from her stump by the fire, was hard pressed to conceal her puzzlement and, yes, apprehension.
Battle. An ever present fact of the times yet in her life to date she had not been an actual witness to it. Due to the abilities of her father, Caperun Keep had never been besieged and any skirmishes or disputes had occurred on other lands. True, she had seen the aftermath with wounded men and shroud
ed corpses but that was all.
Nevertheless, she was no coward. She would lend aid where needed, from stitching wounds to tending the horses to cooking. Resolute, she stood and addressed Warin.
“I am an extra pair of hands,” she announced, fists planted firmly on her hips. “I wish to fight too to recover Caperun Keep.” She lifted her chin and stared hard at him. He would not dissuade her.
He seemed a bit taken aback by her vehemence but the quirked eyebrow and little smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth showed his pleasure with her declaration.
“Aye,” he agreed. “All help is welcome for we engage in active battle. But,” he held up a finger in admonishment, “I will bid Bennet to give you aid and protection.” He glowered at her from beneath lowered eyebrows, as if he anticipated her defiance to Bennet’s role as guardian.
“We are agreed then.” Alyna smiled prettily at him and dipped a little curtsy. “My lord.” She clasped her hands to her chest. She didn’t find it unreasonable to have Bennet at her side. He would prove no hindrance to her in her fight for Caperun Keep.
“Aye, we are agreed,” Warin grunted, then waved at Bennet who bolted over as fast as his bandy legs could carry him. “Bennet, I charge you with the safe keeping of Lady Alyna.”
If Bennet was disappointed with his allocation of duty, he didn’t show it. He inclined his head towards Warin. “As you wish.”
Familiar smile in place, he looked at Alyna. “My lady?” He left the salutation dangling, obviously looking for direction.
“Er, umm,” she stammered. The sudden responsibility took her by surprise and she had to think quickly for a task for him. “The fire. Stoke the fire. The men must be fed.”
Warin, satisfied that Alyna was in good protection, lifted his hand and moved away to join Gerard and the others.
Bennet was the best choice for guarding Alyna, he told himself as he strode across the clearing. Accordingly, the jealousy that still niggled at Warin would have to be pushed aside. In an odd sort of way, throwing the two together more would prove or disprove his trust.
*****
The days slipped by and gradually the siege engine took form. Although originally planned to be only a simple catapult, they soon realized that the superior power and range of a trebuchet would better suit the purpose. Despite taking longer to construct, Warin and Gerard both decided that once built, the siege itself would end quicker.
Before long, Alyna discovered the time-consuming task of feeding a small army. Luckily, however, word had spread of the siege attempt. Offers of help came from unexpected sources, for all the Caperun vassals wished to see the return of Hugh’s heirs and family for he had been well-liked. One day, a goat appeared in camp, another, several plump geese and yet another, a sack of turnips. The last was delivered by Tom, Emma’s father, early one morning while the frost yet tinted the grasses.
“Tom!” Alyna exclaimed. “Why are you here? Is your place not within the castle walls? What of Emma?”
Tom pulled off his cap and lowered his eyes. “I left,” he admitted, weathered cheeks reddening. “I don’t like the new mistress.” He heaved a heavy sigh and brushed a hank of grey hair out of his eyes. “Emma chose to remain.”
“She chose to remain with Odo,” Alyna guessed. Emma always had a soft spot for Odo, although Alyna for the life of her could not see why. Odo only cared for Odo. She could only hope Emma would not be too hurt when she discovered that. “She is fond of him.”
“Aye.” Tom nodded. “But we both know the manner of man he is.”
“And now you worry for her.”
Again Tom nodded. “I tried to tell her not to stay, that it would turn out badly for her, for all of them.” He gestured with his chin to the king’s men. “They are here to fight on your behalf?”
“They are.” Alyna nodded. “And we shall be victorious and recover the keep. But not yet, much preparation is still needed.”
Tom twisted his cap with gnarled fingers. “If my lady would excuse me, I must return to the village.”
“Take me there,” Alyna blurted out. It would do her good to get away from camp for awhile, to forget about the impending battle.
“My lady?” Tom raised his head to gape at her.
“Aye, take me there.”
“Nay, Lady Alyna.” Horror filled his eyes and he shook his head, hair flapping about his head like a grey halo. “Your lord husband would not approve.”
“Approve of what? I only wish to see Muriel.” She laced her fingers together and turned her full gaze on the elderly man standing before her. “We’ll bring Bennet with us. I won’t go for long. My lord husband won’t even know I’ve left.”
“The castle is under siege, my lady.” Tom’s voice trembled.
“Aye, it is. But the village is a mile or two distant and nowhere near the keep.” Close enough for safe travel but far enough to be out of the direct battle zone. Besides, as lady of the manor, her duty lay in caring for her people. Surely Warin would have no quarrel with that.
Alyna gestured to Bennet to saddle their mounts and soon they were on their way, Tom leading. Unable to find Warin, they left word with Gerard of their destination.
Alyna spent an enjoyable morning playing with Muriel’s new babe and with light heart, trotted into the camp about midday. It had been a pleasant diversion and as neither Bennet nor Gerard had objected, she expected no discord from her husband.
On that she was wrong.
Warin charged over as soon as he spied her entering the camp. “Where did you go?” he demanded, scowling. “Next time you must ask permission.”
“Nay, I ask no permission.” Defiant, determined to assert her place at his side, she lifted her chin. “I am lady of the manor.”
“We have no manor as yet,” he growled, blue eyes blazing. “On the contrary, we live in a battle zone.”
“Aye, but I wasn’t gone long” she argued. “Bennet was with me, we were safe.” She glanced down, blinking away tears as the joy in the visit faded. Disappointment took its place. She raised her gaze to his face, bracing herself for the angry words sure to come.
None came. For whatever reason, he chose to hold his silence. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. They were grimy, the nails broken and dirty, the palms callused, evidence of the long hours spent working beside the men.
Until now, she hadn’t noticed the exhaustion rimming his eyes, the shoulders slumping with fatigue. Remorse filled her at the additional worries she had burdened him with, unfounded or not.
“I am sorry, my lord,” she whispered. “I’m eager to assume my duties, is all.” She turned as if to walk away.
“Alyna.”
She stopped in her tracks, back stiff. “Aye?”
She did not turn around.
“I meant no insult.” Warin paused as if carefully weighing his words. “I worried for you.”
He admitted fear for her. The words filled her with joy for they must mean he cared about her, if only a little. She glanced back at him, coyly hiding her cheek against one lifted shoulder.
“As you can see,” she said, “I am whole and in one piece.”
His gaze raked her fully, his words full of innuendo. “I must see for myself for your body is hidden from me.”
He spoke the truth, for his cloak swathed her from head to toe. Too long for her, she carried the fur-lined fabric with both hands to keep it from dragging on the ground.
She tilted her head towards their tent, the gesture rich with promise. “Mayhap the conversation should be continued later this evening?” She meant her comment to tantalize him, to tease him from his worries.
It must have worked for his eyes became heavy-lidded and full of desire. Although not apparent beneath his surcoat, she knew his chausses would be bulging. A shiver of anticipation crawled up her spine and down her belly. The evening could not come soon enough.
But alas, it did not come to pass for the demands of siege warfare intervened and Warin did not
come to their bed until late that night.
He tumbled into bed beside her and she moved her backside up against his in an offering of warmth beneath the furs. Sadly, the blatant invitation to continue what had been started earlier did not evoke a response, for Warin fell sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Sighing, she tucked her chin further into the warmth. How could she wipe the careworn expression from his face?
Chapter Thirteen
“Come with me,” Alyna cajoled the next morning while they broke their fast, determined to tear him from his responsibilities for a while. “Gerard can look after things for one day.”
“Nay.”
The single word cut through the air as if a blade of tempered steel and she recoiled slightly. However, she wouldn’t let his brusque voice or stern expression deter her.
“I’ve packed a lunch,” she pleaded. “Come, a break from your duties will do you good.”
“Nay, Alyna, I’m needed here.” His voice, however, began to lose its curt edge.
Sensing a softening in his features, she pressed on. “A fresh mind is a strong mind. Come, you will be all the better for it.”
Still he shook his head. “Nay.”
She lifted the corner of the cloth covering the basket of food. “See? Venison and turnip and—” She paused for a moment while she pulled out a small wrapped package and waved it in the air. “Goat’s cheese. Muriel gave it to me yesterday, ‘tis fresh. Come,” she coaxed him. “It’s your favorite and there isn’t enough to share with the others.”
“Nay.” But his voice had lost its convincing edge and she knew he weakened in the face of her coaxing.
“Aye,” she announced, sensing victory. “Come and I’ll show you the farthest corner of Caperun Keep holdings. You haven’t seen all of our lands yet. Surely seeing some of the riches we share can only aid you in your resolve to recover what is ours?”
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