“Is there something about this man that I should know, Rosalynde? Something you are aware of that would better help me to judge his character?” When she did not answer, but only shook her head mutely, he sighed. “The man is an odd one. I mark that well. There is that side of him that is a savage. I have seen it in men of war and I recognize it in him. But he has a self-control that sets him apart. I know he but bides his time, daughter. He was not meant to till earth. But I have only to channel his savagery and shrewdness to my own use. Eventually I will find the proper niche for him here at Stanwood. That’s the only sure way to ever inspire loyalty in a man. Make him fit in.”
Rosalynde was much taken aback by her fathers well-considered words. She’d not noticed that her father was even aware of Aric’s whereabouts, let alone the vagaries of the man’s personality. Yet she could not but agree with his assessment. Aric was most assuredly possessed of a savage side. And he was a man accustomed to danger, to war, as it were. She’d not thought about his self-control, yet now that her father had put voice to it, she recognized it well. He’d kept silent during that brutal flogging. And since then he had most definitely been biding his time, waiting for his reward even though what he demanded and what she offered seemed far beyond compromise. Oh yes, he was a man possessed of both savagery and self-control.
For a weak moment she wondered which of those traits fascinated her more. But her father was watching her, and she sternly willed such thoughts away.
“He is a man hard to understand,” she admitted slowly.
“Do you fear him?”
This time Rosalynde could not hide her startled expression. “I … well, no. No,” she said in a firmer voice. “I have never feared harm at his hands,” she declared. At least not the sort of harm her father meant, she thought to herself. What she feared from the man was the singular power he seemed to have over her body and her emotions. That was what made him so particularly dangerous to her.
“Never?” Sir Edward’s gray brows raised doubtfully. “How come you by such faith in a man of his questionable past?”
“What I mean is, once I got to know him I was not afraid. At first … well, at first I was too desperate for help to worry. But once he agreed to help us …”
“You trusted him to keep to his word.”
“Yes, I trusted him to keep his word.” And he had, she knew. The only problem now was that he also trusted her to keep hers.
She pressed her lips together, unable to suppress the guilt that besieged her at that thought. More than anything she wanted to escape her fathers keen gaze, but for once he seemed determined to keep her in his company. “Aric will make you a good man-at-arms, Father. He is strong and smart, and can be very determined. My garden nears completion. Take him with good heart. I wish you well of him. As for me, however, I’ve much left to do this day. If you will excuse me?”
Sir Edward watched her depart with a small frown on his face. Twice in one day he’d left her side bewildered by her reactions. Was it only that she was a woman and he a man? Was that why nothing he expected from her came to pass?
He’d thought to find a girl too young and too spoiled to take over the workings of a household as vast as Stanwood. Instead, he’d found her to be capable and willing, a young woman of admirable talents and grace. He’d anticipated her excitement at the thought of her own marriage, yet she’d clearly been dismayed. Resistant even. And now, when he’d only offhandedly remarked on the uses of one of his many servants, he’d gotten a strong sense that she was vitally concerned with whatever befell the man.
For a moment he wondered at such concern, and a vague voice of doubt tugged at him. Had something passed between the two of them before they’d been found and brought to Stanwood? Had the boy’s accusations been true?
But if they had been true, if the man had attacked her and done his worst with her, she would hardly have defended him at the flogging. Although she might be tempted to lie to preserve her own reputation, if he had misused her she would surely not have balked at seeing the man punished. No, he decided with a slow shake of his graying head. Rosalynde felt gratitude toward the man, but nothing else. He had saved her and the boy, and as a result, she would very likely always have a particular interest in this man’s well-being. Under the circumstances she should be well pleased, for as a man-at-arms his life would improve considerably. Assuming, of course, that the taciturn fellow was bright enough to appreciate what was being offered to him.
Aric was wary when he was called into Sir Edward’s presence. He had seen the man staring at him after the mason had been rescued, but his own eyes had been drawn to Rosalynde who had stood at her father’s side. Now he wondered whether she had finally confessed, finally revealed the truth of her marriage to her parent. Since she had pointedly avoided him all day, there was no telling what he might expect.
If Rosalynde had told her father of the handfast vow, the man would undoubtedly be furious. Just as Rosalynde had foreseen, her father’s first reaction would most certainly be violent. Aric’s only defense would be the revelation of his own noble upbringing, and he counted on that to ensure the marriage stood.
He frowned as he strode across the bailey, and once again he wondered at his own perversity for not simply revealing the truth of his identity. Day by day his chance for revenge against his unknown foes was slipping away from him, confounded by his feelings for this one slender maiden. Even worse, being so near Rosalynde and yet not having leave to bed her taxed him almost beyond the limits of his control. It did not help at all that the dairymaid constantly dogged his path. That one’s willing and ample form interested him not the least, and only served to increase the desire he felt for the dark-haired mistress of the castle.
Rosalynde desired him as well—there was no mistaking that fact. But her noble birth held her apart from him, and although he suspected she would accept him better should his true identity be revealed, for some reason he wanted more than that. He wanted her to admit to her desire. He wanted her to come to him willingly, disregarding all the reasons she should not. Only then would he be sure that she wanted him, the man she knew him to be. Only then would he tell her the truth of who he was.
When he entered the great hall and stopped before her father, he was immediately certain that Rosalynde had not revealed a thing to him, for Sir Edward’s smile, though reserved, was nonetheless sincere. This time there was no waiting in silence, wondering what was to come. This time Sir Edward laid down his quill and leaned back in his chair, eyeing him with friendly interest.
“That was a commendable feat I saw this morning. Quick thinking, even more quickly carried out. I thank you both for myself and for Tom.”
Aric considered Sir Edward a short moment before bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. “It was little enough to do for a man in need.”
“Yes,” Sir Edward mused. “Perhaps so. But I am as inclined to reward good deeds as I am likely to punish bad. We did not meet under the best of circumstances. But I am ready to let the past be, and move on to the future. If you can agree to that, I offer you a position among my men-at-arms.”
This Aric had not anticipated, and he was momentarily taken by surprise. To have weapons in his hands once more! To test himself daily in exercise and combat. If he must maintain this disguise, far better to be a soldier than a farmer. But as a soldier, how likely was he to see Rosalynde? It was for this that he hesitated until Sir Edward’s smile began to fade.
“Well?” the older man demanded more brusquely. “Is my faith in your quick wits so soon proved foolish?”
“Nay, sire. Not foolish at all. I had but wondered …” Aric halted, then his resolve jelled. He would see Rosalynde, one way or another, and in a better light. She would be his yet, as would the whole of Stanwood some day. But it was the woman he wanted above all else, and with a sudden grin he faced Sir Edward. “I had but marveled at your generosity, sire. Most assuredly I do accept your kind offer. I only hope, Sir Edward, that I may prove worth
y of your trust.”
So do I, Sir Edward thought once he had sent the intimidating fellow off to Sir Roger. So do I.
18
Rosalynde stood beneath the one tree in her garden. The ancient walnut provided the only shady spot in the otherwise hot and dusty castle yard. Two of the lads from the great hall were laying an edging of river stones around one portion of the garden while two others were off collecting more of the smoothly rounded rocks, and still another pair struggled to shift an oversize block of stone to the far end of the neat little lawn.
Aric would make short shrift of that task, she decided as she watched the boys’ sweaty efforts. Then she immediately berated herself for such a perverse thought. So what if he could move the huge stone single-handed? That meant nothing. He was still a condemned criminal. Yet her eyes could not help but stray once more to the broad-shouldered figure on the far side of the bailey. Even among the many like-clothed men-at-arms he stood out. It was as much his arrogant carriage as his considerable size; the man was simply not the sort one could ignore. Even among the other men-at-arms that proved true. Although she observed him from afar, it was nonetheless obvious that the other men were in awe of him and his incredible prowess with whatever weapon they practiced with. Some responded by seeking his friendship. Others reacted with scowls and quiet mutterings. But there was not a man among them who did not react in some way. Blacksword was not a man easily overlooked.
Even Sir Roger had made a point of observing him. It was the day they had practiced with the stout oak staffs. Back and forth in the dusty yard the men had fought. Feint and parry, then strike. High and low the staffs had swung with the thud of wood on wood a constant echo across the yard. Aric had been paired with the most proficient of the other men. When that poor fellow had been deftly unarmed with a particularly swift upward stroke, Sir Roger’s second-in-command had stepped in to take his place. All other activity had slowed to watch the two men’s eager exercise. Even Rosalynde had moved reluctantly nearer.
This time the fight had been long and tiring. Before a clear victor could emerge, Sir Roger had called it to a halt. Rosalynde thought it was to save the other man’s dignity, but another odd sensation had struck her as well. Aric had seemed to be holding back, she had noticed during the fight. His movements were slower and not nearly so aggressive. It was almost as if he too had not wished to belittle the man by his victory. But that had made no sense at all.
Now as she watched them scale the inner walls of the castle, throwing their pike-ended ropes to catch on the parapet walls, then hauling themselves up until they gained the walkway, the mystery of the man plagued her anew. Sir Roger wondered about his remarkable physical skills. Her father was intrigued by his considerable talents. And she … she was plainly besotted with him.
With a frustrated oath she pushed herself away from the walnut tree, then snapped the small dried branch she held in two. If it had been a torture to work with him every day in the garden, it seemed doubly so now that she only saw him from afar.
“Does this please you, milady?” one of the lads inquired respectfully.
“Yes, yes,” she answered with a vague wave of one hand. She gave the fellow a cursory glance, then sighed, annoyed by her constant preoccupation with Aric. “It looks very well,” she said, this time actually looking at the finished work. “Until the next cartload of stones arrives, go ahead and fetch water for the new row of rosebushes.” Then she saw her father across the yard and her attention was once more turned away from her labors.
Her father stood next to Sir Roger. From this distance Rosalynde could not determine what passed between them. But she watched, as did they, while Blacksword speedily scaled the wall, catching up to the man before him, and allowing that lagging fellow to use one of his shoulders as a boost up to the top. Her father turned at once to Sir Roger, and their heads bent close for several seconds. Then Sir Edward turned to stare at her and all at once her heart began to race. She’d not spoken at length to her father in the five days since he’d pulled Aric from the garden and made him one of his men-at-arms. Yet she knew that something was afoot.
It was not until the evening meal, however, that she received the least inkling of what it could be. She was freshly cleaned. Her hair was loosely pulled back from her face, then caught halfway down her back by a pierced leather strip that was woven with the hair into a braid falling past her waist. She wore an apple-green gown, the first of several gowns she’d begun for herself, and her face glowed with color from the many hours that she spent outdoors. When she spied Aric entering with the other men-at-arms to eat at a table in the middle of the hall, an astute observer would have noticed that the golden-rose hue of her cheeks deepened even further. But Rosalynde quickly averted her gaze, and in the flickering light of the hall, her emotions were easily hidden.
When her father joined her, he too appeared in fine spirits. But his old eyes were sharp as he watched his daughter signal the chamberlain to begin the serving. With an occasional nod of her head and gesture of her hand, she orchestrated the meal from her place above the salt.
“The fowl is good,” he commended her as he did justice to the whole duckling before him. “The bread and the sauce also.” He licked gravy from one finger, then grinned at her. “Your husband shall be blessed indeed.”
“Husband!” Rosalynde’s eyes widened in sudden alarm. What did he mean? What did he know?
Her fathers amiable expression dissolved into a frown. “God’s blood, daughter! Can I not speak of your marriage without you staring at me as if I were sending you to your execution? ’Tis your duty to marry. Especially now. And do not think to enter the abbey no matter what the priests may say. Stanwood is held only through you. It is just this choosing of the right man that awaits.”
“I-I do not mean to imply that I would shirk my duties,” Rosalynde answered, recovering from her shock. “I know I must marry, and truly, I do seek it. It is only the choice that concerns me. Nothing else.”
“That is good, then. That is good. And I plan to be generous with you on that account. You shall see any fellow I consider and I will not deny you comment on their merits. The decision, of course, will be mine. However, I would see you happy with the choice.”
“Thank you, Father,” she said with a small sigh of relief.
“To that end,” he continued, after drinking deeply of his wine. “I propose a spring festival. The planting nears completion. The weather has cooperated. I would reward one and all with a day of feasting and games.” He cleared his throat and gave her a watchful smile. “Several men of my acquaintance have expressed interest in the games.”
“Several men?”
Sir Edward met her dismayed gaze, then looked away. “There will be a small tourney. It will give you a chance to meet several unmarried men and perhaps find one to your liking. Since I’ll not invite any whom I would not also accept, you will have much freedom in the choosing. More than most fathers would allow,” he added somewhat belligerently. Then his tone softened. “Stanwood has not hosted such a gathering in many a year. Until you returned the place was hardly presentable. But you have taken things well in hand, daughter. I have given you leave to manage the household as you will. You must now trust me to do my duty to you with regard to a husband.”
“I-I cannot but agree,” she replied, aware that he asked nothing unreasonable of her.
“Good,” he said, then signaled a page to refill his cup. “You prepare chambers and meals. I’ll see to the entertainments. Oh, but there is one matter you could help me with. Pertaining to the new man. Aric.”
“Aric?” Rosalynde echoed. Once more her equanimity was destroyed. “How can I … What do you mean?”
Sir Edward bent toward her, his voice lowered. “That fellow you brought here has me mightily perplexed. Beyond his brute strength, he possesses a shrewd intelligence.”
With that assessment Rosalynde could not but agree. Still, her father’s interest made her wary. “But what has that to
do with me?”
“He reveals nothing of himself. Not how he came by his talent for combat, nor how he has spent these past years. Yet I am not one easily fooled. The man fights like one trained to it. His skill was learned and then tested on the field of battle. He is not a mere brawler. But he keeps his secrets to himself.”
“Perhaps it is for the best, Father.”
“Aye, sometimes that is best. But one of the entertainments at our festival shall be the melee. If he can be trusted he could very well turn the tide in our favor. Sir Virgil of Rising will be here, and I have not bested his men in the melee’s battle games in many a year.”
Rosalynde’s relief at her father’s concerns was so great that she let out a great sigh. Then she smiled brightly at him. “He can be trusted to fight with you. Of that I am absolutely certain.”
“So I thought you might say. But I would nonetheless like to know more of him. You spent time with him before. You saved him from my punishment and probably even tended his back.” His one brow arched perceptively. “You trust him and I wouldn’t doubt he trusts you, at least more than he might trust anyone else around here. Talk to him, Rosalynde. See what you can learn of him. The man has much to offer but I must know more.”
“I must know more.” Those words of her father’s bothered Rosalynde through the remainder of the meal. “I must know more.” And yet there was much that he must never know.
Still, her curiosity about Aric was even stronger than her father’s. The man was a complete enigma. His arrogant attitude was sorely at odds with his lowly station in life. It was no wonder that her father had noticed him. The fact that he was so adept in battle only piqued her father’s interest, for Sir Edward was primarily a man of war. He had not hesitated to back Matilda and her son Henry II in his bid to claim the crown from Stephen. In the two years since that conflict had been resolved, he had clearly been chafing at the bit. Now that he proposed the tourney and the melee, it was no surprise that he would seek out the best warriors to fight with him. And just like him, she had no doubt that Aric was among the best.
The Rose of Blacksword (Loveswept) Page 25