The Maiden and the Warrior

by Jacqueline Navin

  With that, Lucien seated himself, implicitly dismissing the matter as settled.

  Alayna stood awkwardly for a moment before hurrying to distance herself from the miscreants. She was again aware of the stares she drew as she made her way back to the safety of Lucien’s side. It would have eased her embarrassment much if de Montregnier had offered some word of comfort to her, but of course he did not. When she reached her seat, she said tightly, “Thank you, Lord Lucien.”

  Interrupted in midsentence, Lucien turned slowly to face her. His features held a mocking look. “You are quite welcome, madam” was all he said. Dismissing her, he turned back to his conversation.

  Why did he always have to treat her with such obvious contempt? She wondered why he had bothered coming to her rescue.

  She might have said as much if her attention had not been drawn by the sound of a voice calling out. She looked up to see a man standing boldly before the dais. She recognized him as Lord Garrick, one of Edgar’s cronies and a castellan of some power. “Lord Lucien!”

  De Montregnier turned to meet his summons with a wary look. “Aye,” he answered carefully.

  “I beg your indulgence on a matter that has been troubling me.” Garrick’s glare of animosity was barely concealed. “You have among you a criminal and a deserter. I demand justice, for the young Pelly was in training with me before serving in your army. He ran off and took up arms against me, his sworn lord and liege, not to mention Edgar du Berg, who was his overlord. That is treason, sirrah, and I would see that you address it as the law commands.”

  “Would you?” Lucien answered. He stared fiercely at the castellan.

  “Now that you are Lord of Gastonbury, you know well the importance of keeping fealty bonds, despite all else.”

  “Aye, I value loyalty above all else,” Lucien said.

  “Furthermore, he was but a squire when he turned tail and ran like the fainthearted cad he is, yet he sits among you as a knight fully vested. He is a har, as well!”

  “I vested him,” Lucien answered. “I found him worthy.”

  Alayna shot a sideways glance at him and saw he seemed outwardly calm, the only sign of his ire was an insistent tic in his cheek where he was clenching his jaw.

  “I wish to know if you will honor my complaint against his crime.”

  Lucien regarded Garrick coldly, rubbing his fingers over his mustache in thoughtful contemplation. “And what would you have me do?”

  “He broke his oath. He deserves to be put to death!”

  “You have no right to speak of oaths and honor,” Pelly exclaimed, leaping to his feet. Heads turned to view this unusual display from the young man who until now had barely spoken a word. “You treated the men in your training like animals—nay, worse! Young Cedric was not the first who died. We did not receive instruction in weaponry, but in fear!”

  Garrick reddened. “Quit yourself, lad, and mind your place. Your betters are speaking.”

  Pelly’s boyish face screwed into a mask of outrage. “Aye, you would wish me to keep my peace. There are too many tales you would prefer not known.”

  “Enough!” Garrick roared. “I’ll not let you spread lies about my household to this company to justify your dishonor.”

  Lucien spoke quietly, yet all listened with rapt attention. “That you would challenge my judgment so publicly shows either unbelievable audacity or unbridled confidence. Either way, it makes for a formidable opponent. Are you my enemy or my faithful vassal, Garrick of Thalsbury?”

  “I gave my promise,” Garrick admitted grudgingly.

  “I should think you would be treading carefully here, when I can strip you of the lands you hold.”

  “You would not dare!” the man sputtered. “I have given you no cause. I met your bargain.”

  “They are, after all, mine. Am I not the rightful Lord of Thalsbury?”

  Lucien smiled slowly at Garrick, an evil smile that chilled Alayna to watch. She was stunned at this news. She had known only bits and pieces of his identity. But to learn that he was the heir to one of Gastonbury’s most lucrative fiefs was a shocking revelation.

  Lucien was still, but Alayna could sense the tension coiled tightly inside like a snake about to strike a deadly blow. “So that makes me Edgar’s vassal, yet I took up arms against him. Am I a criminal, also? I tell you this, the bonds of fealty are binding on both ends. Edgar broke those bonds. So I am free by virtue of his crime to act on my own. So is Pelly free, from you and Edgar both. Do not press me about oaths, nor quote to me the law, for the contract of loyalty binds both lord and vassal to protect and serve.” Lucien paused, giving Garrick a long, slow perusal. “If I hear of you making complaint on this again, I will treat it as insurrection. Am I clear?”

  Garrick glared but did not protest.

  De Montregnier continued, “Pelly is my man now. He has sworn himself to my service and I to his. Trouble him no further, for the order of the old baron is gone, and this is my burh.”

  Garrick opened his mouth to protest but apparently thought better of it. He snapped his jaw closed and, with a baleful glance at Pelly, nodded his assent quickly. The repudiation did not sit well with the spiteful man. He continued to glower with ill-concealed malignancy from his seat.

  Lucien managed a brittle smile. Turning to Alayna, he lifted a brow to enhance his smug expression. “What say you now of my lowborn status?”

  Alayna bristled. “I always thought your behavior bespoke more of a barbarian than a gently bred lord.”

  To her dismay, Lucien answered her with a hearty laugh. “Your wits are as sharp as your tongue, lady. Indeed, I have much of the barbarian ways in me, since I grew to manhood in their company.”

  She rose with as much haughty control as she could muster. “May I be excused, my lord? I am fatigued.”

  Lucien paused imperiously, as if considering her request. “Aye,” he said with a sigh, suddenly bored. “I think ’tis best. If you were to stay you might tempt me with your malicious tongue, and I believe my guests have had quite enough diversion for one evening. Good eve to you.”

  Alayna was speechless, which for once was good and well, for if she were to give voice to her reaction to that last barb, she surely would have screeched in a most unseemly manner. As it was, she kept her peace, demurely inclining her head before taking her leave.

  That night brought little rest until she was able to calm her thoughts and focus on the hopes that rested with the letter she would send through Hubert. When her mother arrived and demanded her freedom, it would wipe the smirk off those dark, handsome features. Aye, Eurice was correct. He was quite handsome. His looks were haunting, but his boorishness chafed. She could barely wait to be free of him.

  Her mood was instantly lifted as she grasped that thought tightly and pulled it with her into her dreams.

  Chapter Eight

  “That is the last.”

  Eurice and Alayna sat in Alayna’s chamber, putting the finishing touches on a small tunic. It had taken over a fortnight to refashion the elegant clothes into usable pieces. During this time, Alayna had seen little of de Montregnier, for she was often in her chamber, and the new lord seemed content to leave her be.

  “Now what, my dearling?” Eurice said. “These need to be delivered to the village and we cannot do that without Lord Lucien’s permission.”

  “So I will get it.” Alayna shrugged, as if it were a matter of ultimate simplicity.

  Eurice gave her a reproachful look. “And how do you propose to achieve such a feat?”

  Alayna considered this for a moment. “He does seem to be set against me and unlikely to do me any favors. But he has no reason to suspect us of any wrongdoing. Perhaps if I just ask him outright, as if no ruse were afoot, my naturalness will give him no cause to speculate.”

  “You would not dare to be so brazen!”

  “Do you have a better solution?” Alayna asked.

  Considering this, Eurice shook her head but warned, “Remember your temper,
Alayna. Do not vex him.”

  Alayna playfully made a face in response. “You think I do not know how to be nice?”

  This only made Eurice roll her eyes heavenward.

  Alayna set out to find de Montregnier. She knew she must be on her best behavior. She reminded herself to think of the treasure she was about to give away right out from under his nose. That should make her pleasant enough to get through the interview.

  After a quick search, she found him in the armory with Agravar and a scribe, taking inventory of the stock of fine weaponry Edgar had amassed.

  “Pardon, my lord,” she said politely. Lucien’s head snapped around at the sound of her voice, his brows drawn down in an immediate frown. Alayna felt her ire rise with just that look, a feeling she immediately repressed.

  “Lady,” Lucien rumbled expectantly. Behind him, Agravar nodded but gave no voice to his welcome. She was a bit intimidated by this Viking, though he had done nothing to alienate her. It was simply his size and foreign looks that made her wary.

  “May I speak with you, my lord?” she inquired.

  “Is this a matter that can wait? We are busy here.”

  She swallowed, determined not to rise to the bait. “Nay, I must speak with you on a matter of some import. It will only take a moment.”

  He nodded his head as if he were granting a cumbersome favor. A glance at the scribe sent the man scurrying away. “Very well, what is it?” Lucien said.

  “It concerns the village that lies just before the forest. The folk there are sorely troubled by poverty, living in conditions which I have found difficult to ignore since my arrival.”

  “I am aware of it,” he snapped.

  “I wish to see to their needs and distribute certain garments I have made for their use.”

  Lucien regarded her impassively. “Well?”

  “I require transportation and escort,” she choked, trying valiantly to refrain from snarling. “And of course I need your permission to leave the castle.”

  “Well, you have it,” he said.

  Agravar interceded smoothly. “I will see to it. Let me know what it is you require, and I shall make the arrangements for you.”

  These were the first words she had heard from the giant. She would not have expected such a gentle response from such a rough-looking man. And a friend to de Montregnier as well.

  Lucien only glared at the Viking. “Thank you, friend, for your help,” he said sarcastically.

  Agravar grinned back. To Alayna he said, “I’ll instruct the groom to provide you with the necessary supplies.” With that he quit the room, leaving Alayna and Lucien standing awkwardly across from each other.

  “Your charity is touching,” he drawled caustically.

  Her eyes flashed briefly. “Nay, sirrah. ’Tis your charity that is impressive.”

  He let the cryptic remark pass. “Your mission serves me as well, for I have in mind to take stock of all of the people in this burh and their needs so as to fully service my properties. I will send my man with you to assess their conditions, and the two purposes can be served thusly.”

  She was somewhat surprised at his concern for the impoverished peasants, though it was in his own best interest to do so. Peasants were considered expendable assets, yet a baron’s fortunes relied on the tithes and taxes they supplied. It had always struck her as singularly foolish, not to mention intolerably inhumane, to ignore the plight of the poor upon whom the noble rested his feet. De Montregnier’s insight displayed wisdom in tending well to their needs.

  Still, it was gratifying to see his concern, and she found herself saying, “Is there any other way I can be of service?”

  He considered her for a moment before turning back to the array of weapons he had been inspecting, perusing them in a distracted way as he paced thoughtfully. “Aye, lady, perhaps you may. I would be interested in your evaluation of what you find, for there are times when a woman notices things a man may overlook. Will shall go with you, and you may give your report to him…”

  Lucien’s voice trailed off as he stared at the rack of swords in front of him. His body stiffened and his face froze in a strange expression. If Alayna did not know it was impossible, she would have thought it was fear that she saw on his dark features.

  “What is it?” she asked tentatively. Glancing in the direction of his unwavering gaze, she did not see anything of note, only the neat row of broadswords aligned in the iron rack.

  He made no reply. He did not even move.

  “Are you ill?” she inquired again. She was becoming alarmed. Had he some malady? Should she call for help?

  She moved closer to lay her hand on his arm, trying to shake him from his trance.

  “Please answer, you are frightening me.”

  He looked at her. His eyes were strange, glazed and unfocused. It was chilling, that haunted look, more so than any scowl he could conjure. He murmured something inaudible.

  “What? I cannot hear you,” she urged.

  “My father’s sword,” he rasped in a dry voice.

  Alayna was stunned. She turned once again to survey the weapons displayed on the rack. His father’s sword? A man’s sword was his most prized possession. The only way it could be stripped of him was in defeat Had Edgar battled the late Lord of Thalsbury? “Here, in Edgar’s armory?”

  Lucien nodded slowly. “Aye.”

  Breaking away from her grasp, Lucien moved forward slowly. He sank to his knees in front of the line of naked blades, drawing one out with deliberate care. He held it reverently in his open palms.

  She would have asked if he were certain, but it was clear to see the weapon was unique. It was finely wrought with delicate etchings in the blade. The handle had a scrolled hand guard and was encrusted with a singular sapphire of enormous size. It was a magnificent piece of workmanship. There could be no mistaking it for another.

  His voice came again, deeply laden with emotion. “We were set upon. My father and I and a few of his men had ridden out in a small hunting party.” She strained to hear the choked words that tore from his throat. “It happened too quickly, for they were lying in wait for us. My father never drew his sword.” He looked down at the object he held in his hands.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, not able to resist.

  “I was taken.”

  “Did you escape?” she prodded.

  “I saw my father slain, then I was hit myself.”

  Alayna was at a loss for words. Though her curiosity was wildly aroused, she was reluctant to press him for more. For lack of knowing what else to do, she stayed with him like that, kneeling beside him as he cradled the lost sword of his father, long dead, apparently somehow a victim of Edgar du Berg.

  When Agravar returned, his features immediately drew into a dangerous look as he took in the scene before him. Alayna hastened to reassure him. “He was glancing at the weapons when his eyes fell upon this one, and it were as if he was struck ill.”

  Agravar said nothing. In three long strides, he was at Lucien’s side. Without any gentleness, he grabbed his friend by the arm and yanked him up to a standing position.

  “What is it, Lucien?” Agravar demanded.

  “He said that this is his father’s sword,” Alayna offered.

  Agravar’s eyes widened in shock. “Is it true?”

  Lucien answered, “Aye.”

  He seemed to be finally recovering, the familiar scowl settling over his features. Averting his eyes, he unsheathed his own sword, carefully replacing it with the larger weapon. His movements were slow with a deliberateness that spoke eloquently of his feelings. When the blade was in place, he turned back to his companions, his tone firm and steady once again. “Did you make the arrangements for the journey?”

  “Aye,” Agravar answered.

  “Have Sir Will ride escort. Before they leave, send him to me, for I have a task for him while he is there.”

  Agravar nodded. Lucien turned to Alayna, his expression guarded. “All is set, demoi
selle. Was there anything else?”

  Alayna stood before him, feeling conspicuously awkward after witnessing his unwilling display of emotion. “Nay,” she answered, and quietly excused herself.

  The outing was set for two days hence, but her excitement was overshadowed by what she had observed in the armory. It disturbed her to have seen the fearless warrior, and a man whom she was happy to despise, in such a vulnerable state. She had glimpsed the conqueror of Gastonbury in an unguarded moment, witnessed an intimate look at his inner demons. Seeing him like that made it more difficult to hate him.

  Thus, it was with an unaccustomed sense of guilt that she prepared the trunks of stolen clothes to be transported to the village.

  When the day arrived, Alayna was happily surprised to see a beautiful mare saddled and waiting for her. The freedom of riding out of those gates, albeit temporarily, was exhilarating and she was immediately caught up in the adventure.

  Will was his usual charming self and soon had her laughing at his witty jokes and amusing stories. He gave her an entertaining account of the men in de Montregnier’s army, from Pelly to Agravar to the youngest knight-intraining. For each, he had some exaggerated and humorous tale of misadventure. Yet, he did not similarly jest about Lucien, speaking only in reverent and respectful terms when referring to his liege.

  They rode past the cluster of huts crouched along the road, straight into the square where the villagers were assembled for the day’s business. Noises and smells assailed the traveling party as they drew closer—the din of bartering, the nervous bleating of sheep, the mournful wail of a cow sold for slaughter, all intermingling with the high-pitched laughter of ragamuffin children weaving among the stalls in a game of chase.

  The sounds fell off until the clamor ceased into abrupt silence as the traveling party drew to a stop.

  Alayna paused, suddenly uncertain. She looked to Will for a lead but saw he awaited her orders. With a start, she realized that she was Lady of Gastonbury, and by rights the duty of addressing the inhospitable crowd was hers. She drew herself up straight and inhaled a deep breath.