With all the expertise of his many years afloat, the captain navigated the ship to its mooring. To be fair, it wasn’t that difficult to find, for it was the only available space to be had both in and out of the water.
Like everywhere else, the dock side was festooned with banners and people waving bright streamers. And from every building, the bright red banner of the house of Weyland—the image of a wolf hunting a bear—flew high in the breeze as a tribute to the highest family in the land.
On the packed dockside beneath a flapping canopy, surrounded by his personal guard, King Rodmar sat upon a raised dais beside his queen and their family, their faces wreathed in happy smiles. Meanwhile, a host of glittering knights in full armor stood guarding the wooden walkway that would convey the sisters from ship to land.
“Look, Miriam,” Catherine cried, almost yelling to make herself heard over the fanfare of a hundred trumpets and the roar of the crowd. “There they all are at last!”
From his position, discreetly close to where the royal sisters stood, Anselm heard Miriam answer;
“Yes, there they all are.”
So overjoyed was Catherine at the prospect of a reunion with her family, she looked as if she might leap up and down on the spot at any moment. As it was, she positively jigged with excitement.
In contrast, however, Miriam seemed rather subdued. She did not wave, or laugh, or shriek as her sister did. Instead, she gave a faint smile and raised her hand in a regal greeting.
A pang of guilt twisted Anselm’s heart. He was to blame. With his careless remarks, he had made her feel this way. But surely, in the long term, it would work out for the best.
“M’lord?”
Reluctantly, Anselm dragged his hungry eyes away from Miriam and turned his attention to his hovering squire.
“Yes, Percy?”
“Here you go, m’lord. I took the liberty of digging out your best cloak and gloves for your meeting with the king.” Percy frowned as he took in the state of Anselm’s battered leather tunic. “Perhaps I ought to go and see if I can find you a smarter tunic to wear with them?”
Anselm smiled, grateful for Percy’s concern. “No, no. That won’t be necessary, thank you.” He took the garments from his squire’s arms. “I doubt the king will care overmuch what any of us are wearing today.”
Holding the gloves between his teeth, Anselm swung the heavy, fur-lined, sable cloak about his shoulders, effectively concealing his scruffiness. “There,” he said, taking his gloves from his mouth. “How do I look now? Do I pass muster?”
“You look quite respectable, m’lord.” The squire’s eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. “Well, almost.”
Anselm chuckled. “Cheeky young pup. Come here.” Hooking his arm about the lad’s neck, he scrubbed his knuckles upon Percy’s scalp, mussing his long golden curls until the boy yelped and begged for mercy. “And to think I’d considered knighting you early.”
Percy stepped back, stunned. “B-But, m’lord. I am not of age until next summer.”
“So?”
“So… ” The lad scuffed his boots nervously upon the deck. “Until then, p-perhaps it might be best if I continued to s-serve you, don’t you think?”
“What’s this?” Anselm asked with a laugh. “You actually want to continue as my squire?”
“Aye, m’lord. I do.”
The boy’s show of loyalty warmed away the frost that had begun forming about Anselm’s heart. “Then so you shall, and I will count myself blessed to have you. Truly, I could not want for a better squire.”
There was a loud clatter and a resounding splash as the ship dropped anchor. Anselm’s eyes immediately sought Miriam, just as they always did. Her small pale fingers gripped tightly to the rope of the gangway as she and her sister prepared to disembark.
“I have a request to make of you, Percy. The Princess Miriam looks a little cold, don’t you think? See to it that she gets these, would you?” With that, Anselm thrust his best fur-lined gloves into his squire’s hands. To his credit, Percy didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. Instead, he silently hastened away to carry out his master’s bidding.
Miriam was about to step onto the wooden gangway when the sound of Percy’s voice made her stop and turn. With a smile, she accepted the gloves he thrust into her hands. As she pushed her fingers into the warmth of his gloves, her eyes locked with Anselm’s. With a slight bow of her head, she mouthed thank you. A moment later, she was gone, walking down the gangplank with her sister until they were swallowed up by the cheering crowd.
Just then, Hugh appeared, grinning all over his tanned face. “Well?” he demanded slapping Anselm on the back. “Are you ready to disembark?”
“You go on ahead, my friend,” Anselm said, managing to smile even though his heart had almost been wrenched from his chest. “I want to make sure they unload the horses properly. These sailors have absolutely no idea how to handle expensive horseflesh. You too, Percy,” he added when his squire returned from his errand. “Go along with Hugh, now. I just need a few moments to gather my wits along with my land legs.”
Thankfully, his companions made no protest and followed the ladies from the ship.
Alone at last, Anselm leaned on the wooden railing and exhaled. Up by the royal enclosure, the crowd had thinned out a little, just enough for him to spy Miriam again. Exactly as in his vision of so many months before, there she stood on the dockside, surrounded by a flock of finely-dressed ladies. A dark swan. Regal and aloof. All alone in the crowd.
“How far have you fallen?” Fergus asked softly, coming to a halt by Anselm’s side with a vast bundle of oddments teetering precariously in his arms.
“Not far,” Anselm answered. Well, there was no point in denying it, was there? Fergus might be many things but he wasn’t a fool. In the future, Anselm vowed he would take more care to hide his thoughts, especially in his unguarded moments.
Fergus watched with him as the ladies’ reunited with their family. “A princess?” he puffed out a long breath. “You certainly don’t make it easy for yourself, do you?”
“Oh, but where would be the fun in that, dear boy?” But Anselm’s attempt at flippancy fell spectacularly flat. He wasn’t fooling anyone. Not today.
“And the lady?”
“What about her?”
“I take it she feels the same way about you?”
“So she claims.”
Fergus placed a gentle hand on Anselm’s shoulder in a moment of unexpected sympathy. “Then I’m more sorry than I can say. For both of you. I wouldn’t wish such suffering on anyone.” He sighed. “Even at the best of times, love can be a double-edged sword. Pain and pleasure combined.
“What about you and Effie?” Anselm asked, keen to divert the course of their conversation away from himself. “What will you do now?”
Fergus shrugged. “Effie wants nothing more to do with me. She’s made that plain enough. Although I did send her that letter with my father, I have little hope of a reconciliation. Too much has happened between us.”
“Effie loved you once, Fergus, and she’ll love you again. Rekindle that spark and make her remember all that was good between you.”
“I have composed a song in her honor,” Fergus admitted, a tad sheepishly.
“Then I’d say you’ve made an excellent start.”
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
Anselm snorted. “I would first need to hear your composition before deciding.”
“No, not that. The song is a fair one, I have no fears on that score. What I mean is, will she appreciate the gesture? Effie is so shy, you see.”
Poor Fergus, so unsure of the woman he loved so fiercely.
“Only you can know the mind of your own wife, my friend.” Miriam was moving away now, flanked by her family and their guard of honor. Sadly, Anselm watched her go. “Just be honest in
all your dealings with her. Tell her of your heart, and demand the truth from her in return. More than that, I cannot say. Whatever happens after that, at least you will have no regrets, no words left unspoken.”
“You’re right, of course.”
Fergus kept him company until Miriam disappeared from view.
“Were you honest with Miriam before you parted?”
“Yes… and no. As much as I could afford to be.” Although it pained him to recall how he’d made light of Miriam’s attachment to himself, making her angry had been the right thing to do. For, without rousing her to temper, Anselm feared she would have refused to ever let him go, braving the wrath of her brother and the censure of her people before she’d so much as set foot in the Norlands.
He loved her too much to allow her throw it all away. She deserved far better than a rogue like him. Only a nobleman of the highest caliber would do for his dearest Mirry.
Clenching his hands on the ship’s rail, Anselm dug his fingernails into the wood as he imagined Miriam joining with another man; a man who wasn’t him.
By the bones of the Ancestors, her future husband had better treat her kindly and love her well for every day of his fortunate life or he would have Anselm to deal with.
“Come, my friend,” Fergus said kindly. “I spy my father and Lord Vadim waiting for us down on the dockside. Let us go and greet them together, eh?”
“My friend?” With a watery smile, Anselm turned to look at him. “That’s the second time today you’ve called me that.”
“So? What of it?”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Fergus, for I shall hold you to your friendship.”
Fergus laughed. “Do your worst, friend. Over the past weeks, I’ve seen you in your true colors.”
“And?”
“And you’re not quite the hardened rogue I once supposed.”
“Ah. But how can you be certain?” Anselm teased. “Perhaps this facade is yet another elaborate ruse.”
“Naw. Whatever you may believe, you aren’t that skilled a player. But if it cheers you to hear it, you’re still a black-hearted bastard, though. After all, no quest could alter a man so drastically.” Fergus said brightly, elbowing Anselm in the ribs, so hard he almost dropped his pile of belongings.
“Cheeky whelp.”
Apparently tired of waiting for them on the dockside, Reynard and Vadim came striding up the gangplank onto the ship.
“Greetings, Anselm, Fergus,” Vadim said with a smile. “How it gladdens my heart to see you both again. Tell me, do you ever intend to come ashore? Or does the life of a sailor now hold more appeal than that of a knight?”
“Perhaps,” Anselm answered. “We haven’t yet decided, have we, Fergus?”
A second later, Vadim strode forward, enveloping Anselm in a tight, affectionate hug. “Oh, but it’s good to see you again, brother. We’ve all been so worried.”
“Have you really?” It must be true for Vadim kept slapping him on the back in a most energetic manner. From over Vadim’s shoulder, Anselm saw Fergus drop his pile of belongings in order to embrace Reynard, their previous estrangement apparently at an end.
“Martha and Seth await your return back at the palace—”
“What? They’re here?” Seth too? Mercy! “Whatever for?”
“Because they grew impatient waiting for news back in Edgeway, that’s why,” Vadim explained, finally releasing Anselm so that he could breathe again. “I found them waiting for me when I finally returned to the capital.”
Anselm chuckled. “Your wife is still as obedient as ever, then.”
“So it would seem.” Vadim seemed quite happy, however, to have a wife who refused to sit quietly at home awaiting word of her lord and master.
“What about the babies?”
“Yes, they’re here too, along with Lulu, Edric, Agatha… the entire household, and half of Edgeway, at least it feels that way.”
Anselm glanced at Fergus who was conversing with his father. “And Effie?” he asked in a low voice.
“Say nothing to Fergus, but, yes, she’s here too.”
“Oh, I am pleased.” To his surprise, Anselm actually meant it. It seemed Fergus wasn’t the only one to have discovered friendship on their quest.
Vadim hugged Anselm again. “Welcome home, little brother. You have been sorely missed. Come, now. The sooner we’re back at the palace, the sooner we can hear about all your adventures. I promised Martha I would ask you nothing until we were all together again.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Alone in her new suite of rooms, Miriam sat before the huge looking glass and stared at her reflection, scowling at the bedraggled woman looking back at her.
The taste of love was undeniably sweet, but to the unwitting it could be as toxic as any poison. Hemlock and Dragon’s Bane could only kill, but the effects of love were a much longer-lasting form of torture.
Upon first entering the heart, love’s infection quickly spread. Moving freely through the blood, it contaminated everything it touched until an insatiable yearning took over, one so strong that it could drive a person to the brink of madness.
The face in the looking glass looked older than Miriam remembered. Dark shadows dwelt beneath her lifeless eyes. Her cheekbones were sharper, their hollows more pronounced. Of course, Rodmar and Hortensia blamed her appearance on the long journey, followed by a touch of seasickness. And because she loved her brother and sister so well, Miriam let them believe they were right.
Anything was better than the truth; that she’d fallen in love with a man they so despised. The very same man who had saved them from the pirates and from the peril of her own stupid folly.
But no matter how badly Miriam longed to confess her sins, now was not the time to unburden herself. It would be better to wait until all the excitement had died down, long enough for the rhythm of everyday life to have resumed its usual course.
Her family deserved the chance to celebrate their homecoming, for when the truth came out there would be hell to pay. Rodmar would be so disappointed in her. Even so, Miriam wanted to feel his wrath. Perhaps if he punished her she might feel a little better. Maybe doing some kind of penance was exactly what she needed.
Just then, there was a brief knock at the door of the bedchamber. A moment later, a smart plump maid bustled inside.
“Ready for your bath, m’lady?” Before Miriam could respond, two tall footmen followed the maidservant into the room, a large copper tub carried between them. They placed it beside the hearth where a cheerful fire crackled and popped.
Still staring deep into the looking glass, Miriam watched as a line of maids trooped into the room, each carrying two steaming buckets of water which they duly emptied into the tub. Before departing, they each bobbed a brief curtsy in Miriam’s direction, but she pretended not to see being too miserable for politeness.
Reluctantly, one finger at a time, she slipped her hands from the gloves Anselm had given her. Her hands were now snug and toasty warm thanks to his thoughtfulness. Such an act of generosity from the very same man who’d deliberately set out to make her angry earlier that day.
Yes, deliberately.
Lie as he might, his eyes had told Miriam quite a different story.
After their quarrel, she’d caught Anselm looking at her when he thought she couldn’t see. Only then did she realize the truth. He’d set her up. By goading her from weakness to a place of strength, he’d given her the courage to do what she must—to do what she might not have done if Anselm had not pushed her to it.
He’d presented her with the least painful escape route available. A way to walk away from him when she’d wanted to cling to him forever. That silly, wonderful man! And because Miriam loved him so well, because it clearly gave Anselm a comfort of sorts, she’d allowed him to believe that he’d tricked her.
&nb
sp; Raising his gloves to her lips, she kissed each of them in turn. As she did so, she fancied that she caught a faint hint of his scent, which wasn’t at all likely for the gloves had rarely, if ever, been worn.
“Shall I help you undress now, m’lady?” asked the smart little maid.
Betty? Betsy? Miriam couldn’t recall. Really, she must start paying more attention.
“No, thank you. I can manage.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, m’lady?”
Bring Anselm to me. Convince my brother to let us marry. But Miriam only shook her head and smiled. “I’ll call if I need you.”
“Very good, m’lady.” With a quick bob, the maid turned and departed, the heels of her boots tip-tapping smartly across the highly-polished wooden floor.
There was to be a grand celebration feast that evening to honor all the members of the quest, so at least she would see Anselm again. Unless, of course, he decided not to come.
Ooh! That would be so like him, finding some noble excuse to avoid her. Bloody Northman.
But, no. He wouldn’t be absent. Not tonight. Rodmar simply wouldn’t allow it.
Rising from her seat, Miriam slowly unfastened the cloak Sir Hugh had given her. The garment slipped from her shoulders, landing with a muffled thud upon the floor. Stepping away from the folds of serviceable wool pooled about her feet, Miriam turned back to look at her reflection.
The Miriam in the looking glass gave a faint, knowing smile. If Anselm was determined to let her go, the very least she could do was give him a good memory to keep with him. After all, a woman’s armory didn’t merely contain swords, did it? No, she had a whole arsenal of weapons at her disposal if only she was brave enough to use them.
Her reflection’s eyes suddenly sparkled, bright with mischief.
After a good long soak, she would summon the maid—Betty-Betsy? If she wanted to look her best tonight, she would need help to make herself fully battle-ready.
Back in Vadim’s suite of rooms, despite his low mood, Anselm was gratified to find himself at the center of a small family celebration.
King's Errand Page 41