‘You also have the gift?’
‘Yes, a different gift but not as powerful as yours could be. That is why your uncle feared your mother and now fears you.’ She kissed her. Her presence here could be endangering the old woman. She must protect her.
Chapter Five
The peasants scattered, coughing and wiping their dust sore eyes as the mounts came too close to them, heralding the Lord’s return. Brunskire had been successful in battle and there would be rejoicing in the castle. Cattle and horses captured from the enemy were led through the gate. Milk would be plentiful, and they would eat more salted meat this winter. Last time he had conquered lands he had created more demesnes for his knights who swore fealty to him and fought for him. They married the daughters of the conquered and gained riches. Brunskire was a popular lord leaving Danton to carry out his orders and dish both reward and penalties to his men and women.
A dark-haired man led the mounts, always looking to his left and right and turning behind him swiftly and back as if he feared someone was following him. He waved his men on and rode to the back to his liege lord who was riding more slowly due to a wound in his shoulder gained bravely fighting his enemy. Brunskire sat straight in the saddle but his creased eyes showed how each rut in the path pained him.
He leant over to his lord and spoke quietly to him. ‘My Liege, I have sent word to the castle asking them to prepare salves and break out a bottle of the best brandy.’
Brunskire smiled and said, ‘Thank you De Rire. We will enjoy cracking a bottle together.’ De Rire merely nodded and rode to the front again, knowing his liege didn’t want his peasants to notice he was in pain. Pain equated weakness in their eyes. A warrior fought and won and came home unhurt, not crying like a maid who had a sore thumb. He would salve his wounds and the next day sit in the great hall whilst his servants and knights celebrated his homecoming with a splendid banquet. He could buy more loyalty with his spoils of war and perhaps find a lady for the castle.
Unfortunately, he received bad news when he met his steward.
‘My Lord, whilst you were away parties came like knats to a horse nibbling at our borders, stealing our cattle. A foul person put around a rumour that you were severely hurt and nearly dead and would not make it back except on a cart. We need to send our best knights around our borders to show you are strong again and command loyalty from those who would turn to others if they thought they would gain more reward.’
‘Damn their eyes. Do they come from the North or South?’
‘Unusually, my Lord, the west.’
‘Send Blake de Rire to me. He will find the knats and give them the hiding they deserve. And quash them still.’
Blake had taken off his mail and was about to bathe his aching limbs when he was summoned to his lord.
‘Damn it, will I get no peace?’ he swore to himself. He had small cuts and grazes which needed bathing. He smelt like his horse and needed a shave badly. He also fancied a woman. In his position as favoured knight, women came easily to his bed and he took advantage of their willingness and availability. There were a few women who would compete to soothe and bathe his back and warm his bed that night for a generous purse.
Knowing his lordship would not send for him unless it was urgent he forsook his bath and moved quickly to his Lordship’s chambers.
‘De Rire, I have a task for you. I know you are tired and hungry but there are men nibbling at our borders and stealing our cattle. A traitor put round the rumour I was nearly mortally wounded and on my deathbed. I want you to find out the source and root out the perpetrators. Bring them back and hang them here over the castle walls. We must deter others.’
‘Aye, my liege. I shall leave tomorrow.’
‘Do so and any spoils from these battles will be yours.’
‘You are most generous my liege,’ said Blake bowing himself out. He would have preferred a few days in bed, preferably not alone, but tomorrow he would set out and sort out the bastards who were disturbing the hard-won peace he and Brunskire’s other men had fought for during the last four years.
Every day in their absence he thanked Alex Deverne and Oladen for leading him to this castle and allowing him to prove his worth to his liege. Danton had treated him warily at the beginning, but he had earnt his trust. He had acted as squire to a knight, at first running after the great man and undertaking menial tasks. It had taught him humility and patience. He had learned to bite his lip living with Bloody James and it helped him in his first year.
Then when he was fourteen because of his huge stature and strength he was selected young to train as a knight. Now seventeen he was a knight and had fought at the front in the last few battles earning the grudging respect of the much older knights. They had at first resented this whipper-snapper who had come from nowhere and was of dubious descent and unworthy of mixing with the sons of other knights.
He had already gained two castles as reward for his service to Brunskire and the King. Young still, he had no wife nor sons nor any desire to take or create any. Brunskire had put men who were loyal in the castles to watch over them. He needed de Rire in the battle field too often to allow him to settle as a landowner. The situation suited them both. De Rire still had itchy feet and enjoyed the play of a sword in battle more than stewarding his lands.
He went back to his bath and the attentions of a sultry brunette who serviced him in her bed. Then he slept the sleep of the dead until his page woke him up to break his fast and head for the borders to rout the enemies of his liege.
Ten days he rode the borders. His sources told him the ringleaders had fled to the mountains. The traitors he had caught had been sent back to the castle to be tried and hung. He headed for the village where he had once lived with Bloody James. He was barely recognisable now as the puny young boy who James had bullied, and the maids had pitied, but he knew not if he had a bounty on his head. Was he blamed for killing James? He had to be careful.
He sent a man in to find out who owned the hostelry now. Vagnon still ruled this area which bordered on Brunskire’s lands. Vagnon would be unlikely to kill him even if he captured him. As a favoured knight he would be ransomed instead. Brunskire would willingly pay to get him back for fear he might join Vagnon’s army instead. He was better to have him as friend than foe.
A woman was now acting as inn-keeper. The place was run efficiently, the maids no longer competing for the attention of a man and warming his bed in return for lighter duties. The chambers smelt clean and the musty smell had vanished. She looked him over, keenly noticing his jewelled signet ring and the way in which the men ran to carry out his orders. She was new to the area and knew nothing about the previous owners.
She was more interested in Blake himself. She leant over him, revealing full bodied, buxom breasts. Running painted nails across his chest she asked in an inviting manner ‘Can I get you anything, Sir Knight?’ Blake smiled, his eyes perusing her charms from the top of her red ringlets down her ample bosom to her tiny ankles. She could grace his bed anytime. He was partial to a feisty red-head. He pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled her neck.
In fact, he didn’t have the opportunity to avail himself of the lady’s services. A racket from the parlour made him push the woman off his lap and reach for his sword. Twisting around toward the noise he ran to the parlour door. Three men were holding a slender young girl down on the floor whilst another wrestled with the laces on his pants. She screamed, ‘Let me go you bastard. Leave me alone,’ and kicked him hard. He crouched down in pain and another holding her loosed one hand and thumped her in the face. Her head cracked against the tiled floor and her lip split. She fell into unconsciousness and one of the men took the disabled man’s place.
Black ringlets ripped out of her bun, tumbled around her breasts which were visible thorugh the gaping blouse which was torn below her stomach. Waking up a moment later, she blinked tears from a pair of emerald green
eyes. They sparked and turned like forest green pebbles, hard and remorseless, as she stared at the man who was looming over her and snapped, ‘Die you bastard! Die.’
Blake exploded into the room, anger consuming him. He was no saint, but he never took an unwilling woman to his bed. These men were animals, picking on a single defenceless girl. He tore the man from the girl but there was no need to fight him. He was weak and slid down to the floor, crumpling in a heap on the tiles. The girl was still staring at him like a predator mesmerising her prey. He could swear those green eyes were absorbing his strength as she seemed to be alight. He touched her. She flinched but she was hot to the touch despite now being half dressed in an unheated room.
‘Stay. I am your friend. I intend you no harm.’ She turned away from the violator and looked at him and her eyes slowly turned emerald green again. Her skin to his touch felt cold now as that unnatural heat left her. The man moved slowly, and his pallor changed as the blood rushed into his face again. Blake pulled him to his feet as he regained his strength.
‘If you were under Lord Brunskire’s demesne I would have you lashed for this behaviour.’ He punched the man in the stomach and the mouth. ‘Take that instead and go, all of you,’ Three of the violator’s teeth fell out and he stumbled to the door, his mates following on his heels.
‘You Girl, come with me,’ he ordered. ‘We will find garments for you.’ He pulled her up and she followed him to the snug holding her torn blouse together. She felt dizzy and swayed on her feet.
Damn the girl. She was so enticing, even bloodied and looking like a wreck. Those pert breasts and neat waist. How he wanted to run his hands down her torso and touch that silken skin. He had shocked himself. He hadn’t felt this extreme anger since he had nearly drowned the stable bully. It was the first time he had felt like killing a man because he had harmed a woman. As a knight he had sworn to protect the weaker sex, but he had lost his usual detachment; this hatred had been personal and had frightened him. He could not afford to lose his temper and loose the demon that hid inside of him. He had too much to lose
Alex thought she would faint but was picked up as if she was as light as a feather and carried to a chamber and laid down on a bed.
‘She needs a bed for the night. She cracked her head on the tiles.’ He took a candle and looked into her eyes. ‘Hold this,’ he ordered the woman while he lifted her eyelids and inspected them, watching her reactions. She seemed to have retained her sensibilities but needed rest and peace and quiet and a physic to make sure his diagnosis was correct.
‘Get her a nightrail and fresh clothes. Do you know her name and whence she comes from?’ The woman ordered her maid to find her some garments.
‘No, Sir Knight, she arrived and was in the parlour drinking when the men came in.’
‘Did she have any luggage?’
‘Yes, it is over there. She was to stay here the night.’ He let the girl down gently. She looked dizzy still and vomited into a pail he gave her. He forced some brandy down her throat.
‘Sleep. It is the shock. I will speak with you in the morning.’ She needed no asking, burying her head in the pillow and falling asleep immediately.
‘I want her watched. Wake her and turn her every thirty minutes. She must not fall asleep for too long or she may not wake up at all.’
He went to the luggage and opened it. In it were old but good quality clothes and boots with to his surprise one luxurious chemise. So, under that boring outmoded outwear was a girl who enjoyed sensuous silk next to her skin. Where had she got the coin to buy that garment? He also found an identity paper naming her as Maria Brozat, a former housekeeper to a grand lady fifty miles’ away. She was restless, so he turned her. He saw a tiny birthmark between her breasts shaped like a star.
He remembered a tall slight muscular blond called Alex who had helped him. She must have been in trouble and changed her appearance and her identity. He had thought about her often during his training as a knight when he had been laid on the ground by stronger more resourceful and talented warriors than himself.
Damn the girl. He knew her adventurous personality would get her into trouble one day. Travelling alone could have caused her to be violated. Mystery surrounded her. He had noted something had passed between her and her violator making him leave her alone. Was she a witch?
Despite his best intentions he was intrigued by Alex Deverne. He had been since she had pinned him to the ground and he had found her to be a girl. No other woman made him want to talk with her and find out what she was thinking. She was an enigma, a ‘frostpiece’. He wanted to crack that icy exterior and find the warm personality under that detached façade, to find the real Alex Deverne.
Alex woke up with a blinding headache. Her jaw felt on fire. Her lips were stiff. Fifty men bashed drums in her ears. She was exhausted. Every time she had tried to fall into a deep sleep someone had moved her and woken her up. She burrowed into her pillows and was shaken gently again.
‘Wake up, Mistress.’ She opened bleary eyes to see the innkeeper watching her. She was helped up to a sitting position and the lady spooned something ghastly like gruel into her sore mouth.
‘Only a few mouthfuls and you can sleep longer this time when de Rire has inspected your eyes again.’
‘He is still here?’
‘Of course. He is a gallant knight.’ She rang the bell and a few minutes later the man himself appeared and sat on the edge of Alex’s bed. He took her face gently in her hands and looked into her eyes. Sapphire eyes assessed her. Satisfied, he let her go.
‘No signs of any damage. You were lucky. Whatever made you travel alone in these parts? You know it is dangerous.’
‘I thought I would be safe in this inn run by a woman.’
‘Well you thought wrong,’ he replied sternly. ‘A girl travelling on her own will be thought wanting and loose by these types of men. You need a chaperone.’
‘I have no relatives to chaperone me.’ she replied tartly. ‘Blame the immoral men, not me.’
‘Tell me from the beginning what you were doing and where you were going. Your name for a start.’
‘Maria Brozat. I was a housekeeper, but my mistress died, and I am going to another position in Vichni.’
‘Try again with your real name.’ She stared blankly at him. Had she lost her memory or was she playing clever?
‘Let me jog your memory. You are Alex Deverne not Maria Brozat. I have heard about your adventures from my men who make forays into the mountains. You adopt waifs and strays and live in the mountains, feeding them, instead of finding good homes for them where they can get an education or a job.’
Her eyes flashed. She was no penitent submissive wench even if she had been caught lying. Her eyes screwed up as if she were trying to remember something.
‘Don’t screw your face up. You will get wrinkles and never catch a husband Alex Deverne. You need a husband and family to keep you out of trouble.’
Damn him. How dare he insult me and tease me! I fought as hard as any men to keep those children safe. She looked him up and down. How did he know her real name? Only six people had known it and four were dead. That left Eliza and the puny boy she had saved from his step-father. Could this giant be that boy grown up? She had barely noticed him before she had fallen into unconsciousness last night.
Now she studied him. Tall and sturdy. His massive shoulders and chest had broadened and filled out. His arms were strong, his biceps pushing through his linen shirt. It was his eyes that made her notice him though. Set within a face that had filled out, they contrasted like precious sapphires against his olive complexion and his roman nose. His face was surrounded with dark hair, red streaks showing his capricious, stubborn temperament and arrogant nature.
It was Blake the boy she had helped, now a gallant knight in the service of Lord Brunskire. She had heard Brunskire had trained a new young powerful knight
who had fought battles and impressed his lord. It must be this boy grown up.
‘I am Alex Deverne and I think you are Blake the boy whom I directed to Oladen’s tavern. He said you took work in Lord Brunskires castle. I gave the children to orphanages where they would find them good homes and lived alone in the mountains until the storms and snow drove me to work for Oladen. He and his son sadly caught the pestilence. He left me some money and I am to buy some land and breed horses.’
‘On your own? A wench without family or husband to protect you?’
‘I can hire strong men.’
‘Who would doubtless cheat you and take your money.’
‘Not all men are thieves. I have taken advice and an agent will find good trustworthy men for me.’
‘Where were you going?’
‘To my nanny who looked after me whilst my mother worked. She has information to give me.’
‘Well you must write to her and tell her the visit must be delayed. You are not safe travelling on your own and cannot buy that land. The men who attacked you will be back. They called you a witch as they left. You will be hunted down by Vagnon’s men and the superstitious villagers will aid them.’
‘If your men could take me to the mountains I can hide there until it is safe to come down.’
‘You would be betrayed in an instant if Vagnon put out a reward. Think Girl. You are safest with me in my liege’s castle and there you will stay until I decide what to do with you.’
‘Who are you to decide my fate?’
‘You have not explained why you use a false name.’
‘Oladen’s nephew might come after me if he thought I had Oladen’s coin.’
‘So, you stole what was rightfully his?’ he said looking at her with contempt.
‘I did not!’ She sat up quickly, eyes flashing, but her head banged, and she slumped down again.
Tricks or Treats: An Anthology for Charity Page 4