Did these knights of the king still linger at Montsalvat? To stay so long was an intrusion on Iolande’s hospitality and she had assumed them departed during her convalescence.
“My lady, I would beg a moment of your attention.”
Alienor shook her head, her patience well and truly expired with this man and his impudence.
“I should think not,” she replied, then took a step back when he entered the room as though he meant to stay. She should not have retreated, but ’twas too late to repair her error. A frisson of dread tripped over her skin and she wondered at his intent.
“I would request but a short interview.”
“The location is most inappropriate,” she replied and took a step toward the door.
Undeterred, Jordan smiled, then seated himself in one of the chairs beside the brazier. His confident expression made Alienor suddenly fear for her well-being.
She glanced after Giselle but the girl was gone. Confound the maid for her hasty departure! Alienor swore under her breath, bracing herself for what would surely be an awkward interview.
“I should think the setting most fitting,” Jordan said, his voice deepening with seductive intent that did not ease Alienor’s fears. She clasped her hands together and regarded him mutinously from her position by the door. She could not oust him from the chamber herself, so would simply keep her distance.
“Indeed?” she inquired, seething inwardly all the while. Any person with a whit of intellect would have known himself unwelcome, but Jordan ignored her manner and her tone.
“Indeed,” he confirmed with assurance, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “Would you join me, my lady?”
“I think not,” Alienor spoke tersely, noting too late how his eyes narrowed.
Jordan frowned slightly at his hands and slowly stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, before he spoke, as though he chose his words with care. “As a widow, I would expect your manner to an eligible knight to be more accommodating.” The slight emphasis he placed on the last word fueled Alienor’s worst suspicions.
She eased backward and he was on his feet in a moment, closing the space between them with sure steps.
“Be not afraid, my lady,” he murmured as he grew ever closer. “I would not have any strain between two destined to spend the remainder of their years together.”
“I have no desire to wed again in the near future,” Alienor declared.
The knight shook his head as if he argued with a foolish child and Alienor found the confidence in his smile maddening.
“What other options have you, Alienor?” he asked quietly. The way he uttered her name made Alienor shudder and take another step back.
“I shall stay with Iolande, of course.”
Jordan shook his head sagely as if he well understood the ways of the world and she did not.
“For how long? Until she chooses another for you, or casts you out? You have perhaps a month of peace, perhaps two, before your burden on the household becomes clear, and thus intolerable.” Jordan met Alienor’s gaze, his own eyes glittering with avarice. Alienor was both repulsed and mystified. She had no dowry and no wealth to bring a match. She knew Jordan desired her, but he did not have to wed her to bed her.
Though she would fight him with all her might.
“And who would the noble Iolande choose for you?” he continued. “A wealthy man from within her own domain? A man in his dotage with drool on his chin? You may be certain that she will be thinking of alliance, not your physical pleasure.” He gestured to himself with pride, the slight movement of his hand urging Alienor to survey him. He was overly proud of himself, to be sure, but he was only a little older than her and might have been considered handsome. ’Twas his manner that Alienor despised.
“Choose another for yourself, Alienor.” Jordan spoke as if he found encouragement in her expression and he took the last step remaining between them. His hands rose quickly to Alienor’s shoulders before she could move away and he fairly lifted her closer. “Let no one else make choices for you this time, for they would not make the selection best for you. I have adequate wealth, a fine home, a title, a place at the king’s own court. No finer suitor will you find in this backward province, my lady.” He gave her a little shake, his gaze locked upon hers. “You have only to accept me to see the deed done.”
Alienor shook her head, having no doubt of her decision. Her husband had been lost to her for only two days and now this cur expected her to take him in Dagobert’s stead. What travesty of fate would ask her to trade the tender compassion of one man for the cynical selfishness of another? This man had no feelings for her, indeed he knew naught of her. She was but a pawn to him. Even his desire for her would die a quick death when he discerned the rounding of her belly.
She did not need to make this match, for Iolande had ensured her place here at Montsalvat. And perhaps, when the threat against his life was banished, Dagobert would return to her side.
She would dare to hope.
“Nay,” she said with quiet conviction and stepped from beneath the weight of his hands. “I say nay, sir.”
Jordan’s eyes darkened as his jaw tightened in anger. “What say you, woman?” he demanded and Alienor’s anger sparked at his tone. How dare he approach her in her own chambers? How dare he press his suit upon her when she refused?
“I say nay,” Alienor repeated. Fury erupted in the knight’s eyes and suddenly she wondered how much more he would dare. Her heart pounded in her throat as she retreated toward the door. Jordan stalked her, yet no sounds of salvation carried to her ears from the stairs.
“I say I shall convince you,” Jordan vowed in a low voice. “I say I shall change your decision before you leave this chamber.” He reached for his belt and Alienor stared at him in horror.
Did no one note her absence in the hall? Did Giselle not wonder what took her so long to descend?
Fear made her voice rise higher than usual when she protested his advance. “I will not have another husband, sir! And know this, Jordan de Soissons, I will never ever choose you!”
’Twas undoubtedly the worst thing she could have said. Jordan’s features distorted with rage and Alienor pivoted to flee. She thought briefly of the babe within her and prayed that his attack would not hurt her child.
“Your will is of little import in this matter!” Jordan roared, and lunged across the room after her. “I have chosen and you will obey my will.”
“Never!” Alienor dove for the door, certain she would be safe if she could gain the hallway. She savored a sense of triumph when her fingers brushed against the latch but Jordan’s foot landed on her trailing hem. She was jerked to a halt and her heart sank as the cloth tore.
She twisted desperately as he seized the back of her waist and drew her closer. She managed only another half step before Jordan’s hand closed on her braid. She cried out at the pain in her scalp, certain he would tear the hair from her head.
“There is more than one way to force a match,” he whispered into her ear.
Alienor struggled against him, her worst fears finding confirmation in his words. Despite her desperate struggle, Jordan trapped her with one arm and ripped the remainder of her kirtle aside with the other. He shoved her to the floor and the coldness of the stone pressed through her chemise to her buttocks and bare legs. Alienor rolled in a last attempt to escape, but he fell directly upon her, fumbling with his chausses while his sheer weight held her captive.
No! This could not happen here in her own chamber! Alienor screamed loud enough to bring the very roof down upon them.
Jordan had time to swear, before his weight was suddenly hauled from atop her. Alienor scrambled to sit up even as she watched her attacker land against the wall, like a crumpled missive.
“My wife’s favors are not for hire,” Alaric declared from above her.
Alienor gasped at his words, her gaze flying to him. She barely glimpsed Alaric’s grim expression before he pursued the knight wit
h purpose.
His wife? Clearly she had misunderstood.
But he carried a sword, like a knight not a goatherd. He crossed the room and glared down at Jordan, fairly inviting a fight. The sunlight silhouetted his form, and Alienor’s lips parted with surprise and pleasure. She recalled her husband’s silhouette as he stood between her and the fire each night. She swallowed and rose to her feet, holding the remains of her garments before herself.
Alaric was Dagobert.
It could not be, and yet, her eyes did not deceive her in this.
“Your wife?” Jordan echoed.
Alaric nodded once and held up his left hand, the gold wedding band glinting in the sunlight even as Alienor’s breath caught in her throat. The signet ring that had also been on the cord was now placed on his middle finger.
Her husband returned to defend her and Alienor could find no fault in that.
“I am Dagobert, Count de Pereille.” With one impatient gesture, he indicated that the other man rise. Alienor saw something like satisfaction flicker through Jordan’s eyes and worried at its import. “Rise and defend yourself,” Dagobert commanded.
Jordan shook his head. “My lord, I assure you I meant no harm. Had I but known you drew breath,” he argued, but Dagobert interrupted him.
“You did indeed intend harm,” he said and Alienor shivered at the coldness in his tone. “You meant harm to my lady and harm to my house. Defend yourself, sir.”
“Dagobert,” Alienor whispered to herself. Confirming images flooded her thoughts too quickly to be examined. It was easy to recall her attraction to Alaric, and the haunting sense of familiarity when she glimpsed some shadowed echo of her husband’s build and visage. It all made too much sense: his refusal to speak or let her touch his face in the night had clearly been to ensure that she not recognize him by day.
Dagobert was truly alive and stood whole before her.
Alienor was no longer alone.
“Aye, ’tis he,” Eustache spoke gruffly beside her. She accepted the cloak he offered and slipped it over her shoulders with a grateful smile. A number of household members clustered in the doorway, their expressions bright with curiosity and expectation. Alienor could not see a single flicker of surprise among them. Was she the only one who had not known of this deceit? Her hurt at that thought was quickly followed by confusion.
To what purpose had Dagobert hidden himself from view? Why had he told the tale of the unicorn? Why had the unicorn been killed? And by whom?
“En garde.” Dagobert’s words drew Alienor’s gaze back to the two men.
“It need not be this way, my lord,” Jordan insisted.
Alienor held her breath, wondering at his intentions, even as she hoped Dagobert would abandon the fight and not imperil himself. She doubted that Jordan would fight fairly.
“What manner of man does not face the consequences of his actions with a steady hand?” Dagobert demanded.
Jordan straightened and pulled his blade from its scabbard, his gaze running over his opponent.
Alienor did the same, her fear for Dagobert finding some relief in the fact that he stood taller than the other man. His shoulders were broader, his muscles coiled with tension like that of a wolf poised to spring. Alienor guessed that he would be sure and deadly with a blade, but to her dismay, unlike his opponent, Dagobert wore no mail.
“What manner of man hides within his own keep, pretending to be a goat?” Jordan sneered.
Dagobert lifted his blade higher in silent challenge.
Jordan snorted as he touched the tip of his blade to that of Dagobert’s sword and the battle began.
“Is it truly your lady’s honor that prompts you to challenge me?” Jordan lunged at Dagobert’s middle, the taller man parrying the blow expertly and stepping quickly aside.
“So you would doubt my word, as well?” Dagobert countered. Alienor saw the cold determination in his eyes as the men circled each other.
Jordan jabbed again with lightning speed and then the room filled with the sound of clashing steel. Back and forth across the floor the battle continued: thrust, parry and counterthrust, the two men’s skill virtually equal.
The tip of Dagobert’s blade caught Jordan’s cheek and the shorter man growled in annoyance at the nick. Jordan sprang toward Dagobert with a renewed ferocity and backed him into the wall, his blade dangerously close to Dagobert’s throat. Alienor gasped, Eustache reached for the scabbard of his own blade, but Dagobert jammed his knee upward. Jordan groaned and fell back in pain, the two men circling each other once again.
“She is a fetching wench, but you do not challenge me for the woman,” Jordan said.
Dagobert’s attention remained riveted on the other knight’s face.
“Do explain,” he invited, his tone calm even as Alienor saw his fingers tighten on the hilt of his sword.
“I could not have left your keep without this challenge,” Jordan confided. “For I know too much, do I not, my lord?” This last word was uttered in a mocking tone and Alienor could not follow the knight’s meaning.
“You speak gibberish.” Dagobert’s blade caught the light as he attacked with sudden ruthlessness. Alienor’s hands rose to her face at the ferocity of this exchange, the broadswords clanging high over the men’s heads and again between them.
Again and again and again they clashed, the men fairly dancing back and forth across the flagstones. Jordan jabbed suddenly and Dagobert parried, barely managing to deflect the sword point from his heart. They parted reluctantly, their breathing echoing in the room.
“How much do I know?” Jordan panted, his eyes wild as he lifted his brows. Alienor felt Eustache stiffen beside her. “How far have I seen behind the mask? Have I discovered what you would aspire to hide, Dagobert de Pereille?”
“I have naught to hide,” Dagobert maintained, but Jordan chuckled.
“’Tis a curious choice for a man to place a goat in the hall in his stead. I can only guess that your reason was compelling.”
“’Twas a jest, no more,” Dagobert argued, his forbidding expression belying his words. ’Twas deadly serious, this game.
“The creature’s death was no jest.” Jordan dove forward only to have his thrust deflected and turned back against him. “And your house would have shared no merriment if it had been your own blood royal spilled in the smithy.”
A curious stillness descended over the occupants of the room, although Alienor did not understand.
Jordan smiled and shook his head. “So, you have persuaded them all that you are the key to the tales of old.” he mused, clicking his tongue as he surveyed the expressions of the household members gathered in the doorway. “How gullible people are in the south.”
Jordan’s inattention was his undoing, for Dagobert moved with quick deliberation. His blade caught Jordan’s beneath the hilt. A flick of his wrist and the broadsword flew out the window. It glittered in the sunlight as it spun through the air, then fell to the bailey below. Terror crossed Jordan’s face before a knowing expression settled in his eyes.
“’Twould not be chivalrous to strike down a man who had not a blade.”
Dagobert’s chin snapped up, his eyes blazing. Alienor saw that the king’s knight spoke the truth and that her husband would not strike him down now.
Jordan saw the truth as well, for he stepped toward Dagobert and pushed his blade away with a fingertip. “’Tis fortunate indeed that it was not you in the smithy, for ’twould be nigh impossible for your bloodline to continue through your Cathar mare.”
Fury flashed in Dagobert’s eyes, but before he could move, Jordan leapt to the window ledge. He blew Alienor a cocky kiss, then turned and jumped from the ledge.
The assembled company gasped as one and ran to the window, incredulous at the risk the man had taken, but Dagobert was there first. He swore softly and Alienor knew without seeing the bailey that Jordan had survived the three-story fall.
“Eustache!” he called, stepping away from the window eve
n as the others crowded to it. Alienor caught a glimpse of Jordan far below, running toward the stables and clearly favoring one leg. “We ride in pursuit! He will not be far ahead of us.”
“Aye, my lord, he must be stopped.” Eustache turned from Alienor’s side to hasten away.
He had taken only one step before he swore under his breath. Alienor spun to find six knights in azure and gold closing ranks in the portal with blades at the ready.
“As must you,” the lead knight said. “’Twould be most distressing if the king did not receive word of this conspiracy.”
“As you wish it.” Eustache drew his blade before Alienor’s eyes. Dagobert shoved his way through the surprised retinue of his household to stand beside his companion and Alienor’s heart began to pound that they should be so outnumbered in their own keep. She pressed back against the wall with the others, feeling Giselle’s tiny hand slip into her own as the men stepped forward of one accord. The sound of fading hoof beats carried from the courtyard below and she swallowed, fearing she would be compelled to watch her husband’s demise.
Barely had steel tasted steel than one of the servants standing against the wall tugged a short dagger from his jerkin and joined the fray. Alienor felt her eyes widen when a second and a third followed suit and the numbers became more evenly matched. The world was divided into those who fought, those who worked and those who prayed, but in this moment, it seemed all were prepared to fight for Dagobert.
A young boy who usually ran errands throughout the keep braved the swinging broadswords. He sidestepped his way through the fight, darting out into the hallway to summon help before any could impede his progress. In the blink of an eye, only Giselle and Alienor stood against the stone wall as the room erupted into one large battle.
A servant fell right before Alienor and she dropped to her knees to assist him. Her movement drew the attention of the knight who had fought against him, and the mailed warrior in azure and gold turned his attention on the two women.
Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 13