Emerald Silk

by Janet Lane

  Arrows whizzed back in reply, and Tabor and his men took cover.

  Tabor grabbed a handful of pitch-soaked arrows and positioned himself behind a loophole. “Burn them out.” Flames engulfed the walkway and the Hungerford knights spilled out, hurrying down the stairwell.

  Tabor and his knights picked them off as they exited. Shooting his last arrow, Tabor felled another.

  The pitch fire illuminated the previously dark south walk. There, twenty yards from where the walkway ceased, stood Rauf. He’d removed his helm and was advancing on a short woman dressed in a patchwork skirt and a long, orange scarf. She was trapped between the knight and the fire. She backed away from him and climbed up on the handrail. If she jumped, she would fall on the wooden stakes below.

  In the flickering light of the fire, Tabor saw her oval face and dark eyes.

  Sharai. Her name stuck in his throat. Afraid to distract her and cause her to fall, he held his tongue. Tabor grabbed Walter’s shoulder. “Look.”

  Walter sucked in a breath. “God’s bones.”

  Rauf grabbed Sharai by the hips and pulled her back, throwing her on the walkway floor. He pounced on her and pulled a dagger. He shoved his beefy face in front of hers and held the dagger high above her, menacing her with it.

  God’s nails, and my arrows are spent. Must save her. He felt for his short war sword and dagger, and hurried up onto the handrail.

  Will blocked his way. “Nay, Tabor. There’s seven feet of air between here and the south walkway. Your armor.”

  Tabor waved the warning away, but couldn’t dismiss the danger. The walkway was twenty feet off the ground. Hungerford’s knights swarmed below. If Tabor survived the fall he’d be run through several times over. Could he gain a foothold when he landed and if he did, could he keep his balance? He shrugged off the needling questions. There was but one answer: Sharai.

  Concern for her cooled his fear and determination settled in his veins, tensing his muscles, clearing his mind. He saw his path and added a foot for good measure. He crouched low and committed himself.

  A cry ripped from his throat and he sprang from the safety of the tower, toward the walkway.

  He cleared the handrail and landed on his shoulder, crashing into Rauf, metal on metal, punching the wind out of him.

  Pain shot through Tabor’s knees from the impact. He grabbed Rauf by the back of the neck.

  Rauf choked, then turned his dagger backward and stabbed.

  Tabor ducked and released him.

  Pivoting, Rauf faced him, and Tabor scrambled upright, unsheathing his short sword.

  “Tabor.” Sharai cried out his name like an oath, her voice strangled with emotion. Her face was bruised, and tears filled her eyes.

  She was alive, and she had returned. Joy flowed through him. “Get down and stay back.” If Rauf killed him, so be it, but Tabor would die saving her.

  Rauf’s eyes widened in surprise, as if he had flushed out a boar, only to find himself facing two.

  Rauf forced a laugh and drew his sword. “Well, my father was right about something. Chase the stench and you find the pig.” He gestured, curling his fat fingers toward himself. “Come on, peasant.”

  Tabor stepped forward. "You're too late, Rauf. Gloucester ruled in my favor. Coin Forest will never be yours."

  "Lying whoreson."

  "Just the truth. Stand down, or you'll seal your fate.”

  Rauf’s lips thinned. “A pox on you, coward, though you’ll not live long enough to grow a blister.”

  Tabor took the first step forward. The wall rose to Tabor’s right, dangerous because it meant his right arm would be restricted, unlike Rauf, whose right arm would be free. Tabor must overcome the disadvantage with thrusts and footwork. And pray for an opening.

  Tabor plunged forward. His sword slid the length of Rauf’s blade, making a jarring stop at the crossbar, sending a jolt all the way to Tabor’s skull.

  “I’ll kill your Gypsy whore.” Rauf whipped his sword, striking Tabor’s left shoulder. “And feed her bones to the dogs.”

  Arcs of hot pain shot into Tabor’s shoulder. He retreated, and then advanced again. His sword struck Rauf’s armor solidly just below his ribs.

  Rauf bared his teeth and rushed forward, clashing his blade against Tabor’s. Rauf hovered with his sword and the evil-looking dagger, looking for his chance. “Lord of the castle, are you,” he said through teeth clenched in pain. “Let’s see if your blood runs thin as William’s.”

  “This day,” Tabor panted, “you go to hell.”

  Rauf advanced again, and their swords clanged.

  Sweat blurred Tabor’s vision, and his arm grew weary.

  Sensing Tabor’s weakness, Rauf lunged, his weapon reflecting the surrounding flames. His dagger sank beneath the plates of armor covering Tabor’s left arm.

  Tabor’s arm spasmed in pain. He pushed Rauf’s bulk away from him, extracting the blade and giving himself room.

  He swung his sword high to low, crashing it into Rauf’s neck.

  Rauf stabbed his lethal dagger at Tabor, but Tabor’s armor served him well, stopping it. Rauf advanced, kicking Tabor in the knee.

  Tabor’s leg buckled and he fell.

  Rauf dropped heavily on Tabor, his knees on Tabor’s chest.

  “Now, you scum peasant. Now.” He raised his dagger and plunged.

  Tabor stopped his wrist and struggled against Rauf’s massive weight, the burden almost breaking Tabor’s arm. Two deadly blades curved from substantial chunks of steel into small fangs hovered, inches from his face

  Rauf smelled his fear and leaned more of his weight on Tabor.

  Sweat blurred Tabor’s vision, but an image trickled into his consciousness. Rauf’s armor was fractured, a visible break from under his left pouldron to mid-chest on his breastplate.

  If he could create a diversion . . . Sharai. She had no weapon. Couldn’t fight, but she had proven her courage in the past with Rauf, and her mere presence now could help him. Gambling, he opened his eyes wide and lifted his left hand gesturing to stop, looking behind Rauf, not at him. “No, Sharai. Nay!”

  Rauf had been bested before by the courage and speed of the slight woman standing behind him. Would he respond?

  He did. Rauf spun and raised the dagger, preparing to stab her. His movement lifted his pouldron, revealing the broken breastplate and exposing his side.

  Tabor pounced. He hacked at Rauf’s wrist and Rauf lost his grip on the handle.

  Tabor claimed the dual-bladed dagger. Tabor lunged toward the spot in the broken breastplate and drove the strange dagger deep between Rauf’s ribs.

  A slight grunt escaped Rauf’s lips. His mouth flew open and he rolled sideways.

  Tabor kicked him.

  Rauf slammed into the handrail, splitting the wood in a series of loud cracks.

  Power coursed through Tabor’s veins, a blinding intensity that ripped the blade out and drove it home again. “This is for William.” His brother’s arrogant grin flashed before him. “For Aurora.” The pain in her eyes. Tabor withdrew the dagger and stabbed once more. “And Maud’s brother.”

  The broken rail gave way from their combined weight. Sharai grabbed Tabor's arm, steadying him, and Rauf, still speared by the strange dagger, fell from the walkway onto the garden spikes below.

  Tabor blinked. Rauf lay face up in the garden, three spikes jutting out from his body. Blood poured down his arm. By the kitchen and stables, Hungerford’s men were laying down their swords.

  He pulled Sharai close to him with his good arm, and her trembling subsided. He lifted her face to his. Angry bruises marred her lovely face, swelling the skin at her left cheekbone, and her earlobe was swollen and bloody. But her eyes, her eyes. She lifted her veil of dark lashes, sparkling with tears, and the love shone through.

  “Sharai, forgive me.”

  She kissed him, hard, as if dispelling their separation. “I love you.” Her eyes filled with worry. “Kadriya?”

  “She’s
safe.”

  The blazing timber behind Sharai collapsed, and the walkway just twenty yards distant sagged to the stone wall.

  Tabor dropped to Rauf’s rope ladder, extending his hand. “Hurry, before it collapses.”

  * * * * *

  The bailey was tainted with smoke, spent arrows, and the smell of death. The injured moaned, pleading for help, and Father Bernard hurried among them, offering wine and encouragement.

  “Father,” said Sharai. “Maud, is she . . .”

  “Alive, yes. In the kitchen,” he moved on to another wounded man.

  Tabor led Sharai past the smoking ruins of the church.

  Kadriya burst from the keep, her skinny legs flying. “Sharai!” With a shriek of joy, the young girl threw herself on Sharai, wrapping her legs around her waist.

  Sharai released a strangled cry of relief and kissed the top of Kadriya’s head, hugging her tightly. “I searched for hours, Sprig. I feared . . .” She trailed off.

  “I knew you wouldn’t leave me,” Kadriya said.

  “And here you are, you smart girl.”

  Kadriya touched Sharai’s hair. “Where’s that dog, Aydin?”

  “He drowned, I fear.”

  “Fear my eye,” Kadriya said. “Hooray!”

  Cyrill approached, his eyes haunted. “Sir John,” he said, misery in his voice. He shook his head.

  Sharai’s heart ached for Tabor as he followed Cyrill to confirm his friend’s death.

  They found Maud, bruised, bloodied, and making a feeble protest to a blood-letter who held his knife and basin at the ready.

  Sharai nudged between them, protecting Maud. “Leave her be.” She poured ale from the cask and moistened a cloth from the table, waving it to cool, and placed it gently on Maud’s swollen eyes. “Thank heaven you’re all right.”

  “You’ve a good aim,” Maud said, laughing weakly, her red hair caked with blood at her temples. “Rauf, that fatheaded sod,” she murmured, too weak to move her head. “He could not tame my tongue.”

  “Oh, Maud.” Sharai’s voice wavered and she patted Maud’s hand. “It’s a joy to hear your voice.”

  Sharai looked around. “Where’s Lady Anne?”

  “Fritham,” Sprig said. “Lord Tabor found out she paid Aydin to take us away, and he sent her all the way to Fritham.”

  * * * * *

  Hours later, Father Bernard had brought villagers to clear the bailey and bury the dead on the other side of the curtain, behind the church.

  Sharai explained her escape, how Lord Hungerford had supplied Aydin with horses and knights, and how she found her way back to Coin Forest.

  Then Tabor surrendered to treatment. Sharai helped him out of his armor, bathed him and cleansed his wounds. She applied herbs and knowing hands, giving the treatments Etti had taught her.

  Sharai had returned to his chamber and stood before him now in the flickering candlelight, hesitating.

  “We have a few hours before dawn,” he said. “Come. Rest with me.”

  She shrank from the light. “I cannot.” She avoided his eyes.

  Tabor thought she must be disappointed in him for leaving her in Lady Anne’s care. He rose from the bed, protecting his arm, and approached her.

  She held out her hand to stay his advance.

  He stopped four steps from her. If he had damaged her love for him, he would never forgive himself. “I knew not the depth of my mother’s fear, Sharai. Please forgive me. Had I thought for a moment she’d send you away—”

  She waved his apology aside. “Of course you didn’t know.”

  He shook his head. “I should have brought you with me.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “’Tis not that.”

  “I was on an important errand, and I thought your appearance would work against my petition. Yet it came to naught after all. You could have represented yourself better than I.”

  She stepped forward and tugged at the orange scarf, and it slipped from her head and fell to the floor. Her gaze followed the scarf’s descent, the downward movement loosing two tears that had welled in her eyes. The delicate globes of moisture sparkled in the candlelight and streaked silently down her skin, leaving two dark, wavering trails.

  Her hair hung ragged just below her earlobes.

  His stomach turned. Her hair was shorter than Tommy’s.

  A vision came of her, dancing for him, here in this chamber, just days ago, her long, ebony curls falling to her waist. The count. Tabor’s hands fisted. Her grace. Her dignity. He moved toward her.

  She pulled away.

  “Aydin did this.”

  “He said he would make me love him.”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  “He’s already dead.”

  “Then I’ll kill him twice and again.” Fury choked him, making it difficult to speak.

  She tucked her ragged hair behind her ears, trying to hide it.

  His heart ached for her. “‘Your beauty shines through. ’Tis no matter.”

  “You know better.”

  He pulled her toward him and kissed her, running his fingers through her short hair.

  She cried out and pulled away. “My hair is only part of it. I am a peasant, Tabor, and always will be.” She held his gaze. “Seven pounds.”

  “What”

  “I was sold at market for seven pounds.”

  “Sharai.”

  Her voice broke in defeat. “I can wear the silks and dress like one, but I’ll never be a noble—”

  “You’re noble inside, Sharai. Inside. Inside,” he repeated, needing her to hear it.

  “—and your villagers suspect me of sorcery. Now Rauf is dead; Lord Hungerford will be even more determined to steal your land. Lady Anne is right. You’ll lose all if I stay.” She hovered at the door.

  Not wanting to press her, Tabor retreated to the chest and sat. “I went to Bath, and—”

  “Aydin took me from here, but I was going to leave, anyway. This love we found.” She hesitated. “What we shared,” she corrected, “was more than I ever dreamed of, but,” she choked, “it’s not possible.”

  “I saw Gloucester there.”

  She looked out the darkened window. “From that time I first saw you, my life changed. I wanted you, but I could never hope for someone like you. I am unworthy. I should have looked the other way. I tried, but stubborn you. You made that contract with Etti, and I came here and—”

  “Sharai, I love you.”

  She studied the palms of her hands as if to find an answer there. “You weren’t at all what I thought you would be. You were kind, and your people cared for you. And so did I.”

  “I love you for loving me, Sharai. Don’t stop.”

  “I never will.” She came to him. “But we fooled ourselves, Tabor. It can never be for us.”

  What had happened to her fiery spirit? What had become of her fierce conviction that they could triumph if they believed in the power of their love? “You’ve changed. Aydin killed your spirit.”

  “He didn’t. I came back to fight for you, and fight for Kadriya. But I will not fight for us, because it’s hopeless.”

  “I will.”

  She bent down for her scarf.

  Tabor grabbed it, flipping it out of her hands.

  She nodded slowly. “You’re right. I cannot hide.” She turned to leave.

  Tabor grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Listen to me. Gloucester ruled in my favor. Rauf is dead; his father has no claim to Coin Forest. The castle, my family, the village—everyone’s safe.”

  Her brown eyes watered again. A weary smile softened her face, but didn’t hide her pain. “I knew you were capable, of that and so much more. I’m happy for you, Tabor.”

  She turned from him, and when she met his gaze again, her eyes were dry. “Did Gloucester give his blessing for our union?”

  Tabor swallowed hard.

  “I thought not. You see, I cannot stay.”

  He dropped the scarf and held her hand
, running his fingers lightly between hers, savoring her velvet skin and warmth, and the exquisite sensation of her closeness. “I know.” He met her eyes and put voice to what he had been considering since Bath. “Which is why I am leaving with you.”

  “What? You can never leave Coin Forest. ’Tis your home.”

  “In my heart, I am tied to you, not the land.” He gestured to the bed. “Come, rest with me. I’ve missed you so much. I want to hold you close.”

  “I must leave.” She shut her eyes, and another tear escaped.

  He kissed her gently.

  She put her arms around him and they stood together. He felt her fear and tried to hold her closely enough to give her the strength to believe in their future, in spite of Gloucester’s decision that they could not wed.

  She followed him to the bed and lay with him.

  He held her hand. “Coin Forest is safe from the Hungerfords. It can revert to the crown, and it can be granted to a deserving noble. I can leave with a clear conscience, and we can wed.”

  “You would defy your king? Abandon Coin Forest?”

  Aye, there were still problems he had not worked out. “You ask too many questions. Can you find it in your heart to love a simple knight?”

  “Your family, Tabor.”

  “I love you more than my family,” he answered.

  “More than your liege?”

  “I’m a skilled knight, though I’ll never fight against England. We’ll build a home, small, but in a fertile valley. You can have your garden. We’ll have horses. You and Kadriya can ride. We’ll have our own family, our own children.”

  “But at the cost of your honor.”

  “My honor is not tied to Coin Forest. I know that now. I also know if we stay here, I must wed another woman of the king’s choosing. Would you rather that?”

  “I would rather you love me, one last time.” She met his gaze, and she seemed to slip into his soul, her large brown eyes darkening, filling him with an aching joy and need. She stroked his lips lightly with her finger, then kissed him, her mouth warm and thrilling, sliding wet against his lips, stirring his body to response.

  She ended the kiss and slipped out of her clothes. Poised above him, she lowered herself onto him, gently, as if concerned her weight would hurt him. Sooth, she felt light as a fairy, but every curve all deliciously woman. She took him inside her.