The Stolen Bride

by Susan Spencer Paul

  From across the room, Kayne fairly well scowled at him. “I do not begin to know what you mean. I am but myself.”

  John and Aric, sitting at a large round table in the midst of the private chamber, both looked at him with a measure of surprise.

  “You have seemed tense, Kayne,” John said, taking up his tankard of ale to sip at it. “And unhappy, as you were when we left France, though I admit ’twas far worse then.”

  Aric uttered a laugh and leaned back wearily in his chair, taking up his own tankard. “You’ve been as pleasant as a mad, starving bear with a thorn in its paw,” he said. “No need to put so fine a point on it. That’s the truth, well enough. ’Tis a mercy Mistress Sofia kept you by her bedside while Sir Griel and his men made their attempt upon Havencourt, else I would’ve been obliged to knock you on the head and have you dragged off, just to keep you from doing something foolish.”

  “I had every just reason to confront Sir Griel,” Kayne said coldly. “I was not out of my senses.”

  “Aye, but you were,” Aric insisted. He looked at Senet and John, who had arrived with their armies after the fighting had begun. “He was, and if Mistress Sofia hadn’t made him promise to stay by her side through that first night, he would have been naught but the greatest trouble to us all. And him being one of the finest men in the field we’ve e’re known before now, aye?”

  “’S’truth,” Senet said, nodding.

  “Aye, indeed,” said John.

  “I was but full angered, and with every good reason!” Kayne insisted furiously, striding to the other side of the chamber. “I was not outside of temper or judgment—I was but briefly maddened by the day’s events.”

  Senet moved to stand beside him, and set a hand on Kayne’s shoulder.

  “And what of now, Kayne? Sir Griel and his knaves ran away yesterday morn, but you have not yet given way. Even though Mistress Sofia improves greatly, you snap and growl and are ready to quarrel at every turn. This is not like you.”

  Kayne wanted to deny his friend’s words, but could not. From the moment that he had ridden into the forest at Wirth to find Sofia being brutally accosted by Sir Griel and his men, he’d been lost in a darkness so fierce and overwhelming that he did not know if he would ever find the way out of it.

  He had never wanted to kill before, though he had done so hundreds upon hundreds of times. But he wanted to kill now. It was all he had thought of for the past many hours, apart from Sofia.

  She was better now. Much better, thanks to the care of both Magan and Senet’s lovely wife, Lady Katharine. The day following her attack had been the hardest for her to endure, as they all had known it must be, for she had been stiff and sore and so painfully bruised that it had been difficult simply to look at her, let alone touch and give additional pain. Sir Griel had struck her across both sides of her face with such force that her lips and eyes had swelled badly. It was only by the mercy of God that he’d not broken any of the delicate bones there which formed her particularly fine beauty, or permanently scarred her with his rough gloves.

  The bruises along the length of her back were even worse, or so Lady Katharine had told Kayne after she had carefully examined Sofia. They would heal, in time, but the damage within would take a great deal longer, and would give her much pain, even in so simple an activity as walking. But at least she could walk, even if very slowly, and that in itself was a blessing. Kayne had known strong men who’d had the grave misfortune during battle to fall in a like, fierce manner against trees and walls and other such solid objects, and had thereafter lost the ability to walk or move altogether, if they survived at all.

  He had kept his word to Sofia and stayed by her side, even when Sir Griel and his small army of men had made their attack on Havencourt. It had been foolishly attempted, for they’d been met by Aric’s fostered lads, whom he had trained for battle just as Sir Justin trained him, and with the advantage of Havencourt’s sound walls and excellent weapons such enthusiastic warriors could scarce be matched even by seasoned fighting men.

  But Sir Griel and his men had striven through the dark hours, driven, surely, by Sir Griel’s unchecked wrath and determination not to be bested. Just before dawn, answering Aric’s summons with astounding speed, both Senet and John arrived with their own respectable armies, and Sir Griel had finally had no other recourse save to call his men together and run away, back to Maltane.

  Kayne had little doubt that he would rest peaceably, however. Any man who would treat a woman as Sir Griel had treated Sofia was mad and intemperate, and they’d not be finished with him until he was either forced to accept peace or dead.

  Sofia desired the former, Kayne the latter. She yet believed that Sir Griel would be tried and appropriately judged for what he had done to her, but Kayne knew better. A wealthy knight of the realm, a man possessed of a vast and valuable estate, who had powerful friends in the king’s court, and who spent a great deal of money each year to make certain that those friends remained true—such a man would never be justly punished for any crime he might wish to commit. Certainly not for accosting a woman, even though she was a gentle lady and the daughter of a landed knight.

  Sir Griel would claim that she had driven him to madness after he, with every honorable intention, had offered her marriage, only to have her tease and torment him. He would bring forth witnesses to tell that Sofia had been observed in unseemly conduct with the village blacksmith, that she had even gone—alone—into his smithy and remained there unattended by maid or manservant. Sir Griel himself could testify—with his soldiers to agree—that he had found Sofia in the forest, alone and with clear evidence that she was awaiting her lover for a secret tryst. Any man, he would argue, who had dealt so honorably with the woman he desired for his wife, would understandably be driven to violence.

  In this light, Sir Griel would be viewed as a man much to be pitied, while Sofia would be publicly humiliated and forever branded a creature of shame. And as Kayne would never allow this, Sir Griel would have to be dealt with—by him.

  But first, he would take Sofia to Vellaux just as soon as she could travel. He would accede to his father’s wishes and take back the knighthood; his father would know how it could be quickly done. And he would agree to be made his father’s legal heir. Afterward, he and Sofia would return to Wirth to gain her own father’s permission for their immediate marriage. The moment Sofia was his wife, but one unchivalrous word falling from Sir Griel’s lips and Kayne would be free to kill him, and be approved in such action by both Church and state. For then he would be a powerful man, as well, being heir to Vellaux. No man would gainsay him. He had but to bait Sir Griel, and wait.

  Until that time, Sofia would not be safe, and Kayne, though he would give his very life for her, held no false pride that he alone could keep her perfectly protected. He needed his friends now as he had never needed them before, and had brought them all to this room to set his case before them and ask for their aid.

  They had at once agreed that they would accompany him, with all their best fighting men, and make certain of Sofia’s perfect safety until all had been accomplished. Their combined forces would create an estimable army that Kayne hoped would temper the madness of even an intemperate man such as Sir Griel. But despite their willingness to help him, Senet, John and Aric had surprised—and aggravated—Kayne with their concerns for his state of mind. He was in perfect possession of his senses. Fully and completely, and they had no cause for any such worry—even if he could not argue the matter.

  “Mayhap ’tis not like me,” he said, “but ’tis how I am at present, and if you do not desire to accompany me in this state, only tell me now, and we will part ways from Havencourt.”

  “Kayne,” Senet murmured, a mixture of hurt and chiding in his tone. “We do not deserve that of you. Have we not said that we will stand by you?”

  “Aye, as we have ever done and ever will do,” John added. “We are brothers in all this.”

  “No matter how foolish one of us
may be,” Aric put in more bluntly, “and despite such insults as a man might take rightful offense at, if he was of any mind to do so.”

  Kayne knew a deep measure of shame. He had grievously insulted his dearest friends—men who had, just as John said, stood beside him as brothers through both hard times and good, even in the midst of direst battle.

  “Forgive me,” he said, not able to look at any of them. “I should not have spoken thus. ’Twas unjust…and wrong. I pray you all…forgive me for it.”

  “It is only for your sake that we are anxious, Kayne,” Senet said. “To see you like this is hard. Very hard. You have ever been the best among us, except, perhaps,” he added teasingly, “for John, who, now that he has become a great lord, is fast winging his way toward sainthood with all his good works.”

  At this, John laughed out loud and Kayne felt some of his shame lessen. He was able to smile and turn to look at his friends.

  “You are truly my brothers,” he told them, “and I am thankful for each of you beyond any manner of speech to tell how so. If I am not myself for some few days, I pray you, forbear. Once I have Sofia for my wife, and know that she is wholly safe, I will return to myself. Of this I am certain.” But the words were spoken with all this discomfort he felt, for in truth, he was sure of nothing in that moment, save that he could not let these men down at any and all costs.

  “We would not desert you, Kayne, for any reason,” Aric said. “Until Mistress Sofia is safe and beneath your care, we are your men. Nothing on God’s earth could be more certain.”

  “For this,” Kayne murmured, “I am fully glad and grateful. Thank you all.”

  Senet’s hand was yet warm on his shoulder, and he gave him a friendly, reassuring shake.

  “We decided long ago never to speak of thanks to one another, nor of any manner of gratitude. We will see this thing through together, as we have always done. Now cease all this foolishness, and sit and have a tankard of ale. We have many plans to make for the coming journey to Vellaux.”

  Kayne nodded and gladly let Senet lead him to the nearest chair. John poured him a tankard of ale and pressed it into his hands, Aric unfolded a large map and laid it upon the table before them all, and they began to speak as they had once done in France, planning routes and stops and the way to move many men as an army. Despite the goodness of being with his comrades once more, Kayne felt the darkness within him feed and grow, becoming more cold and bitter with each word. He was going back into war again, back to killing, but this time his heart was beyond being touched by what was to come.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sofia was in awe of Lady Katharine Gaillard, wife of Sir Senet Gaillard, the lord of Lomas. But she supposed that everyone, even Lady Katharine’s own husband, must be as well. She was very beautiful, with red-gold hair the color of a glorious sunset, and was taller than almost any woman that Sofia had ever seen. She had a regal manner and bearing that made her as commanding as a queen might be, and all those in her presence reacted accordingly. When Lady Katharine spoke, every eye turned immediately toward her, and when she gave commands, servants raced to fulfill her bidding.

  “You will not walk at any faster pace than this, Sofia. I will speak to Kayne and make certain of it. Your back will not be strong for many weeks, and any more rapid step will cause you to suffer such spasms as you had yesterday morn, and a like incident must be fully avoided. Apart from the pain and distress it gives, ’twill also diminish any improvements you have made. You must take every care to allow that no further damage be done by walking at a greater pace.”

  Sofia, who was slowly moving in a very unsteady line, being held up on one side by Lady Katharine and on the other by a young serving maid, replied, “Yes, my lady.” Such docility and obedience were strange to her, but thus it was when Lady Katharine spoke. It would have been impossible to do anything but agree.

  In the far corner of the chamber, Mistress Magan, the wife of Sir Aric, looked up from nursing her infant son. “I pray you, my lady, do not overtire Mistress Sofia, else she may fall ill again.”

  “And if she lies abed all day,” said Lady Katharine, “she will entirely lose the use of her limbs. Nay, though she is wretched and bruised, she must walk every third hour, for a quarter of an hour. Mark me well, ’tis the quickest way for her to regain the balance of all her humours. Do you not feel better for the exercise, Sofia, despite the discomfort?”

  Sofia was simply glad to be walking at all. Yesterday morn, when she’d come awake from her stuporous slumber to find Kayne asleep in his chair beside her, she’d felt so stiff and sore that she’d had not the least desire to move—ever again. But from her own experience in healing the wounds of others, she had known that she must face the unpleasantness of sitting up, getting out of bed, standing and walking. The greatest difficulty, apart from her physical pain, would be in opening her eyelids enough to see where she would be walking to. They were swollen nearly shut, and it would be several days more before that swelling lessened in any great measure. But that could not be helped.

  Sofia had lain silently for a long time, not letting herself remember what had happened the day before, gazing only at Kayne through the thin slits that her eyes were allowed. She had watched him sleeping just so when he had been ill following the fire, save that he’d not been sitting in a chair and looking so uncomfortable. His blond hair was in disarray, and a long swath of it fell soft against one cheek. She wished he were close enough that she might touch him, but knew that even if she could, she would not for fear of waking him. And so, instead, she spent the next half hour occupying her mind with pretending that she was not a patient, but the healer of such a case as she provided, and determining what various remedies she would use for the best and fastest healing.

  She had only just decided upon what the best medicinal rub might be to soothe aching limbs when Kayne gave a sigh, turned his head back and forth once upon the back of the chair, and opened his eyes. He blinked up at the bed curtains for a long moment before collecting himself and sitting forward. He was clearly surprised to find that she was already awake and reached for her hand with both of his.

  “Sofia, are you well?”

  She did her best to smile at him. “Far better than I look, I think.”

  “You look very beautiful,” he said, “as you always do.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

  “You are a dread liar, Kayne the Unknown,” she told him, yet smiling, “but I am far more wicked, for I do like to hear such lies.”

  She expected him to smile, in turn, but he did not. Indeed, his countenance, as he gazed down at her, was as severe and darkened as it had been the night before, so that he appeared, moment to moment, almost like a stranger rather than the man she had known in Wirth.

  “Kayne—” she began, but he released her hand and stood, saying, “You will be thirsty, perhaps hungry. I will fetch Mistress Magan at once. If you need me, Sofia,” he said as he neared the door, “only call for me, and I will come at once.”

  Once the household was made aware that she was awake, Sofia was descended upon not only by Mistress Magan, but also by a small army of female servants, all of them clucking and shaking their heads and treating her as gently as a frail, tiny child. With slow care she was propped up on several pillows and fed a bowl of weak broth. She had only just finished this and begun to think that she wouldn’t mind going back to sleep once more when Lady Katharine and a contingency of her own maidservants arrived.

  Within minutes, Lady Katharine had taken charge of Sofia’s care, declaring that she must be gotten out of bed and bathed and have each wound fully examined and tended to according to Lady Katharine’s own much practiced knowledge of medicine.

  Sofia understood the wisdom of Lady Katharine’s commands, but was loathe to fulfill the first of them. Every movement was excruciating, and when, with the help of four of the maidservants, she attempted to rise from bed, the muscles along the length of her back contracted with such painful spasm
s that she could not hold back either the cry that fell from her lips or the tears that sprang to her eyes. But Lady Katharine was deaf and blind to this—or seemingly so. She would not let Sofia lie down again until she had walked the length of the room, for, as she said after making her examination, “You are not so grievously wounded that you must be coddled.”

  Of course, she was perfectly right. Sofia recognized Lady Katharine’s superior knowledge of such matters, but that made it no easier. She had never known such relief, or better sleep, than when Lady Katharine at last allowed Sofia to return to her bed, aided beforehand by one of Lady Katharine’s own medicinal draughts, which provided immeasurable relief of her pain. She drifted to sleep thinking that she must ask Lady Katharine to share the receipt for the concoction. ’Twould be a valuable addition to her own collection of remedies.

  Through all of yesterday and this morning, Lady Katharine had tirelessly tended Sofia, quitting her duties only long enough to nurse or tend to her infant daughter, who had taken up residence in a small cradle within the chamber, and leaving the room only on those occasions when her husband, Lord Lomas, requested her presence. Otherwise, she slept on a cot beside Sofia’s bed through the night—giving Kayne a very shocked look when he’d said that he would remain, instead, and informing him in stately tones that he most assuredly would not—and had taken all her meals in Sofia’s chamber, as well.

  “Now,” said Lady Katharine, slowly turning Sofia about to head back toward the bed, “’tis time for a good rubbing of salve to heat you through and ease your pains, and then you must lie down for another rest. We will have you recovered and on your way to Vellaux in but another week or so.”

  Sofia readily submitted to being unclothed and rubbed along the length of her back and limbs with Lady Katharine’s medicinal salve. It smelled wonderful and put off a gentle heat which was most soothing.