by Jill Hughey
She shook her head impatiently. “This is not about Denes. It is about decisions I have made. Choices.” Her eyes flicked down then back up. “Mistakes. Foolish, impetuous mistakes where you are concerned.”
“What do you mean?”
“This tournament,” she croaked. “If I had been braver or more honest with myself, more generous with you, all of this would have been avoided.”
“That is true,” he agreed. At her stricken countenance, he added, “We have discussed this before. I do not think any damage has been done that the passage of the event will not repair.”
“It is more than that.”
“How so?” David asked cautiously.
She could not keep her panic down, and saw alarm enter his eyes.
Theo cleared his throat from the base of the steps. “Rochelle, your mother is exhausted. Perhaps you and David could continue your reunion tomorrow. We could all go to church.”
“There will not be horses involved will there?” Marian pleaded, shooting an apologetic look to Rochelle.
Theo laughed. “It is just a short walk from here,” their host assured her.
“David, I must speak with you,” Rochelle insisted quietly.
“There is nothing I want more. But your mother is waiting. You are both tired, Rochelle. We will walk together in the morning,” David assured her as he escorted her the stairs, “That will give us a chance to talk more.”
Rochelle shook her head in frustration but could only acquiesce. “Tomorrow, then,” she said with resignation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Despite her exhaustion the night before, Rochelle wakened early, jolted into immediate awareness of where she was and the task lying ahead of her. She dressed quickly in the chill of the unheated room she shared with all the other female visitors. When she descended the steps to the main hall, the only evidence of anyone else being awake was a well-stoked fire in the center of the room. Smoke rose lazily to the hole in the roof, plenty of it hanging in the still air.
As she held her hands out to the warmth, she firmed her resolve to tell David the truth immediately, no matter what the consequences to his regard for her.
When the front door opened, she turned, hoping it might be him. Instead, a huge unclean man strode in, coming to a stop a few steps inside. Brown hair hung lank around his unshaven face, and his dark eyes peered out from beneath a heavy brow. Rochelle could not stop herself from comparing him to David. He was about the same height, but stockier and obviously solid. He made her uneasy in a way David never had. “I am Riculf,” he said, holding his arms out to his side as though addressing an audience instead of one young woman.
Rochelle’s breath hitched. Riculf was the name of the warrior Gilbert had hired. This must be him. If he revealed his meeting with Gilbert to anyone in this house, it would be publicly devastating to her and humiliating to David.
“You,” he said, pointing at her, “are Rochelle.”
She didn’t answer him, just stared.
“I saw you riding through town with David’s brother last night.”
Rochelle continued her silence. He walked toward her. She circled around to keep the fire between them.
“I came to get a closer look,” he said as his gaze slid from her face to her toes and back up again.
His inspection was like an icy hand touching her. “I cannot imagine why you would think you should see me.” She lifted her chin a notch. “I do not even know you.”
He smiled, revealing several gaps where teeth used to be. “You know of me. You want me to defeat David the Bavarian.”
Rochelle felt a sinking in her stomach. “I have changed my mind.”
“Women are flighty,” he pronounced. His tongue flicked through a gap in his teeth.
Rochelle shuddered. “I am not flighty. Keep the money and go away.”
His smile faded, replaced by a cold stare that made his eyes almost black. “I do not want to go away. You are a good looking wench. I will enjoy you. Almost as much as your money.”
“Get out,” she said as forcefully as she dared without rousing the entire house.
“Do not!” he spat sharply, taking a threatening step toward her. “Do not ever think you will tell me what to do.”
Rochelle backed away, fumbling under her cloak for her dagger. “Go away! You promised you would never have any authority over me.”
The scary smile returned. “Ah, you have not really changed your mind if you mention that. There is one small problem with this little agreement.” He stepped toward her again, and she backed away another step. “Who will enforce it? That corpse you sent to find me? Or better, you?”
“I am betrothed to David. You will never have anything to do with me. Now, go away!” She heard the desperation in her own voice and despised him all the more for evoking it.
“What use are you to him when he loses Alda?” He threw his head back to laugh, his neck lined with filth trapped in the creases of his skin. The sound of his laughter ricocheted around the empty hall. “So young. So innocent. So naïve.”
A dog’s bark sounded from behind a door off the hall. Magnus. Dear God, they’d all be here in a moment. Everyone would know. “I paid you,” Rochelle pleaded in a whisper. “I paid you to leave me alone. Go!”
Riculf practically leaped forward to leer over her. “You tried,” he sneered in her face, his breath foul. “But you will just keep paying. That is how the real world works, little girl.”
The barking suddenly grew louder. “Riculf!” David’s voice rang out from behind her. “Get away from her. Magnus, stay!” Rochelle hated herself for backing toward that voice, her hand reaching for the reassurance of David’s touch, her salvation. He squeezed her fingers once, then placed himself in front of her, his left hand behind him on her hip, in his right his short but frightening semi-spata. She could hear Magnus growling, the sound making the hair rise on her neck.
Riculf smiled. His own short blade appeared in his hand and glinted menacingly in front of him. “No need to draw blood yet. I am just visiting with my future bride.”
“You have to be alive to take a bride,” David grit out through clenched teeth.
“That blade cuts both ways, does it not David? I fight once, but you fight thrice. I feel the advantage already.” He started to circle and David turned with him, his hand still on Rochelle to make certain she stayed behind him. Rochelle could feel the restrained power in David’s touch, but she could also see an almost bestial predation in Riculf. Realization struck her that this tournament could be a serious, bloody business. Theo had said the battles would not be to the death, but she sensed something primitive coursing between the two men, something that could lead to severe injuries.
Riculf craned his head to look past David’s protective body. “I think I must like her more than you, David, else you would have married her when you had the chance. Or did she blink her pretty eyes and say nay to you also?”
David raised the semi-spata just as Theo’s office door swung open. He emerged, his clothing uncharacteristically askew. “What the – get out! Get out of my house!” he shouted.
Riculf chuckled. “Ah, the master of the house has spoken. The master must always be obeyed. Remember that Rochelle.” Riculf gave her a significant look before he turned away. He opened the front door then called over his shoulder. “Do not forget our agreement.”
“It is void,” she spat back without thinking. The door closed on her words.
David turned to Rochelle, his face tense with concern. “Are you alright?”
“No, he…” Rochelle had never felt so helpless and stupid in her life. She’d never needed someone to hold her as she did now, and that someone was right in front of her. If his arms were around her and she could just explain her idiocy to him, he would understand, wouldn’t he? He would be able to fix it. Or help her fix it. Wouldn’t he?
Before she even understood the compulsion she stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist. She placed
her forehead flat on his chest wanting to hide from the world and be immersed in his strength. She hadn’t realized until this moment that his chest was bare. His smooth warm skin against her face nearly intoxicated her. Nothing could be wrong here. The real world Riculf longed to introduce her to couldn’t even exist here.
“There, now,” David murmured as he pulled her close, the hand without the blade rubbing her back. “It is not like you to let a bully like Riculf upset you. He frightened you a little, but you will not ever have to talk to him again.”
A little sob escaped her lips. “I love you,” she blurted in a hiccup, without thought.
He went completely still. “What did you say?”
“Umm,” Theo interrupted. “Hate to disrupt your meeting of the minds, but you have gathered an audience. Again.” When they seemed disinclined to move, he added, “And you are half naked in my hall in front of several unmarried women, one of whom you have clutched in your arms with her mother watching.”
“Go to hell, Theo.”
“I am only suggesting you could let her mama hold her while you get dressed. Just a suggestion….”
Rochelle knew she had to get control of herself. She drew away slightly, averting her face from the stairwell where she knew all the women and girls would be gathered. And there stood Doeg, eyeing her speculatively, a forefinger tapping his chin. “I need to talk to you, David,” she croaked.
David's arms slipped away from her. He lifted her chin to look in her eyes. “In a few minutes,” he answered. “We are going to church. We can talk then.”
“It must be private,” she replied miserably. “I do not want an audience, because you will be very angry.”
David grabbed some clothes then met in the office with Theo and Doeg to dress and discuss the events of the morning.
“What was all that about?” Theo asked, as he fussed with the jaunty angle of his many-tasseled hat.
“Riculf came to see Rochelle. The spoils of war, ” David answered cynically, his voice surprisingly steady for the anger still pulsing through his veins. It had been the first day he’d been in bed past sunrise for weeks. Awakened by a man’s shouting laughter and Magnus crazed at the door, his heart had been in his throat as he’d sprinted toward heaven only knew what.
And there she’d been, that bear of a man looming over her, obviously threatening her, stopping only at David’s own shout. Rochelle had reached for him as if she finally understood he would protect her from anybody. Even in his rage, he had felt his triumph. She finally wanted him. She would finally take what he offered. If it meant his own death, his body would be her shield.
Of course, it hadn’t come to that today. But the tournament would be here soon enough. This morning only strengthened his resolve. Another man married to Rochelle? David might as well be dead if that happened. The memory of this morning was vivid enough that it did not take a broad imagination to picture Riculf touching her, hurting her in ways that didn’t bear thinking about, breaking her down.
Doeg cleared his throat. He leaned with his bad arm against the wall, staring out the narrow glass window. “There is still something that unsettled me a little. What was all that about her having said nay to him too? And he told her not to forget their agreement. As if they have talked before.”
David went still. Riculf’s parting comment had bothered him as well, now that he was reminded of it. But then Rochelle had come into his arms and his only concern had been her reassurance. He tried to remember the exact words. “’Do not forget our agreement.’ Is that what he said?”
“And then,” Doeg replied with enthusiasm, ”she said ‘It is void.’”
Theo frowned.
“Where does Riculf hail from?” Doeg asked Theo.
“West of here, I think. Why?”
“He must have heard about the tournament early on to beat all of the locals here.”
“Not necessarily. There are not many locals anxious to challenge a man of David’s strength and skill.”
Doeg scowled. “Still, how many days after we learned of the tournament did Riculf sign up here?”
Theo sighed, but obviously began a mental count. “He arrived about four days after the letter arrived at Alda.”
“Four?” David barked. “How is that even possible?”
Theo shrugged. “Perhaps one of Louis’s clerks got ahead of my own messenger.”
Doeg snorted with derision.
“You seem to know an awful lot all the sudden, Doeg,” Theo said sharply.
“I know when something stinks,” Doeg said, his finely arched brows lifting.
“What are you suggesting?” David asked.
“We all know Rochelle does not want to marry you,” Doeg said pointedly.
“Rochelle does not want to marry anyone,” Theo interrupted.
“Hear me out,” Doeg said with annoyance. “Perhaps Rochelle thought she could use the tournament to her advantage. Perhaps she told Riculf about it.”
“She never left Alda,” David argued. “She was there with me until after Riculf entered.”
“Ah, but Gilbert left the estate the same morning Theo and I did. Early.”
David lifted his head to stare at his brother. “I remember. Where did he go?”
“Presumably to find a warrior who can beat you,” Doeg said triumphantly.
Theo slammed his hand down on the desk. “Wait just a moment. That is a terrible accusation against Rochelle!”
“Just an observation,” Doeg replied.
“I left early that morning.” Theo shot back. “So did you. Where did you dash off to in such a hurry? Maybe you hired him. You have shown no support for your brother’s marriage!”
Doeg smiled, his eyes hard blue. “You really cannot bear to hear anything against her, can you Theo?”
The two men glared at one another across the room.
David shook his head, used to ignoring their spats. He didn’t want to believe what Doeg was saying about Rochelle, yet it made sense based on her comments last night and her request of him this morning. Even at Alda, she’d been acting strangely guilty. Without that, he would never suspect her of even being capable of such deviousness. But to what end?
“It makes no sense,” David said. “What would she gain by contacting Riculf? She is trying to avoid marriage altogether.”
“She cannot avoid marriage! Even a simple woman’s brain must have sorted that much out by now,” Doeg argued.
“She is not simple,” David said quietly. "She is desperate to maintain control of her life, in any way she can. Maybe she liked the idea of choosing her own husband.” The thought cut him to the quick. Just a few moments ago he’d been basking in the glow of her choosing him and now he had to face the idea that she’d just been playing him against Riculf?
Theo flapped his hand around in dismissal. “A husband is a husband is a husband. Riculf would have legal control of her and her estate whether she chose him or not.”
David turned away from both of them, deep in thought. Maybe that is exactly what Rochelle had learned this morning. Riculf was less malleable than she had hoped. A new kind of anger surged through him. The devious little fool. He thought he’d made progress with her at Alda. He’d told her he loved her, for God’s sake. And this morning, he’d thought she’d reciprocated. She’d reached for him, turned to him for comfort. Had it all been an act?
But her last words kept repeating over and over again in his head. She needed to talk to him. Privately. He would be very angry.
Yes, he was.
David paced around the room. His pride told him to leave her and her blessed estate to Riculf or The Black. But he did not think he could part with her. As he’d discovered the day she’d fallen from Denes, his own life was worthless without her in it. He knew they could be happy together at Alda if they could just get back there as husband and wife.
He must win the tournament. But why should he want to, when all his feelings for her had led to bitter disappointment? Love
turned to suspicion, desire to distrust, admiration to anger. His mind fixed and held on to his anger.
Perhaps he could use her betrayal to his advantage. Anger could be a valuable commodity. It could be his best ally in the final week of training. He would hone and sharpen it to a fine edge until he could unleash it. Rage would serve him better than the softer emotions he’d nurtured for the last month. Anger, when used properly, could temper like the heat of a forge. He simply had to focus his response to her betrayal in the right way. Not against her, but against his immediate foes on the field of battle.
She would be his. Her treachery had only strengthened his resolve. Perhaps he would revisit those softer feelings after he had won her. Perhaps not. They served no purpose to him now. In fact, tearful admissions and apologies would only distract him from the matters at hand.
The only sensible path he could see regarding Rochelle of Alda was to completely avoid her until after the tournament. If she suffered regret, she would just have to bear it.
“David, what are you thinking over there?” Theo nearly shouted to break into his thoughts.
“I think it is time to go to church.” It would not hurt to parade her through the town on his arm, then sit next to her while the priest droned on about the sin of the week. Let every man see that she was already under his protection, whether she chose to be or not.
When David, Theo and Doeg finally emerged for church, they each regarded Rochelle with such vastly divergent expressions she could hardly make sense of it. Doeg looked like a satisfied cat with a mouse beneath its paw. Theo walked with an uncharacteristic slouch, his brief glance apologetic, as if she’d caught him at something distasteful.
But David was the worst. He came to her side without even looking at her to silently offer his arm. He led her all the way to church with nary a word. Theo burst awkwardly into a recitation of the town’s history for Rochelle and Marian’s benefit. He enthusiastically pointed out buildings of note, and began describing the virtues of the basilica long before they climbed the long rise to it.