Dream of Me/Believe in Me (81 page)

D
EEP IN THOUGHT, KRYSTA TOOK A WRONG
turn after leaving the queen and found herself in a wing of the royal residence she had not seen before. It seemed set aside for servants' quarters and at this hour of the day it was deserted. She wandered for some time, trying to retrace her steps through a labyrinth of corridors, before finally finding a door that led out into a courtyard. There she spied a boy hurrying about some errand and managed to stop him long enough to ask her way back to the great hall. From there, she assumed she could find her quarters.

“Through there,” he told her, scarcely slowing down, “turn left then left again, go straight aways and take the second—no, the third right. It'll still be a bit but you'll get there.”

On that less than helpful note, he sped off, leaving Krysta struggling to remember what he had said.

“Left …” she murmured as she followed his directions. A while later, “And left again, then straight—”

She came to a long corridor lined with doors on one side and windows on the other looking out over yet another
courtyard. From behind the doors, she heard voices reciting in Latin. One door stood partly open and through it she made out the scratch of pens on parchment and caught a glimpse of young men with their heads bent in study.

From that she concluded that somehow she had worked her way around to where the royal school joined the king's residence. Which meant, if she was right, that she should be able to see the scriptorium from the windows up ahead.

But no, she couldn't, and she felt exasperated. Perhaps if she turned around and went the other way? She was about to do so when a man emerged suddenly from a side passage. He was tall, well built, with dark hair to his shoulders and a narrow face. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore velvet and was adorned with much gaudy gold in the form of a heavy chain around his neck and thick, jewel-studded bands at both his wrists. Seeing her, he stopped abruptly.

Krysta's heart sank. She recognized him all too well and wondered at the unkind hand of fate that had her not merely lost but face-to-face with Lord Udell.

“My lady,” he said and bowed mockingly. “What a surprise to find you here. I thought you always at the ear of the queen.”

Ignoring his provocation, Krysta said, “I was on my way to my quarters and took a wrong turn. If you would excuse me—”

“Oh, by all means.” He moved just as she did, blocking her way. When she tried to go around him, he moved again with the same result.

Frustrated, Krysta stopped and shook her head. Udell stood grinning, hands on his hips, waiting to see what she did next. But his smile faded abruptly when she simply turned on her heel and walked away from him. She got so far as to open a door and step out into the
courtyard, but just then he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. As Krysta tried to pull free, he pushed her up against an outer wall of the building and, still keeping hold of her, said, “Even for a Norse, your manners are poor. It isn't done to show your betters disrespect.”

Krysta bit back the impulse to tell him she saw no betters and instead tried again to twist free. She had not thought he would lay hands on her and was shocked that he had done so. Although there were rooms nearby and people in them, she felt acutely vulnerable alone with him in the courtyard. He loomed very large over her, not so large as Hawk to be sure but threatening nonetheless. His grip on her arm hurt and she suspected he was bruising her.

Yet she was not so foolish as to let him see her alarm. Calmly, she said, “Why do this, Lord Udell? There is nothing for you to gain.”

He stared at her in surprise for a moment, then laughed sharply. “Do you always think that way, in terms of gain or loss?”

She did not, but she kept that to herself. “It is a sensible enough way to think and by all reports you are a sensible man.”

In fact, she had no idea whether anyone thought Lord Udell even remotely sensible but the notion seemed to please him. He eased his hold on her yet did not let go. “You have been speaking of me?”

“Your sister speaks of you. She praises your power. And of course it is impossible to be at court even a short time without being aware of your stature.”

This flattered him greatly. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as I thought if you have wit to perceive that.”

Deliberately, she looked at his hand still fastened to her arm. “I also have wit to wonder why you do this. Why give the Hawk any excuse to come against you?”

“Are you so certain that he would? You were not his choice, but rather chosen for him.”

“It matters not. Would you allow another to take your property simply because you had not selected it for yourself?”

“No, of course not, but—” He shook his head. “What a hardheaded creature you are, quite unlike most women. I wonder if Hawk has the sense to appreciate that.” Udell moved closer to her, his fingers caressing the skin he had bruised. “You have a wild look to you, that mass of hair I suppose, and those eyes. Is that deceptive? Or is there truly passion in you?” He bent his head, his lips brushing the curve of her cheek.

Krysta suppressed a shiver of pure revulsion. She turned away, schooling her features to utter calm. To her dismay, Udell chuckled. “A valiant try, my lady.” He laid his hand just below her breast. “But I can feel how frantically your heart beats.”

That he was so vain as to believe it beat with desire for him astounded Krysta but she took some comfort in knowing he did not sense her fear. That comfort fled in the next instant as Udell said huskily, “You are wasted in Essex. Hawk will never be anything but a mere retainer to the king. Surely, one so practical as yourself”—He lowered his head again and put his mouth to the slender column of her throat—“and so tempting can aspire to something higher.”

The nausea she had experienced earlier in the day was returning with a vengeance. Krysta fought to contain it and to keep herself safe at the same time. “What is higher than a marriage to bring peace between two peoples?”

Udell leaned back and looked at her. His eyes shone as though the two of them were sharing a joke. “Oh, to be sure, peace is to be sought above all else.” He caught a handful of her curls and crushed them in his fist. “But
think, my lady, why should the Norse only make peace with Alfred, an aging king whose victories are in the past? Why should they not seek alliance with younger, more vigorous leaders?”

“What leaders are equal in stature to Alfred who is king and whose son will be king after him? I hear of no others.”

“Then you must learn to listen more carefully.” He dropped her hair but did not move away from her. Almost to himself, he said, “You really are oddly interesting. There's something about you….”

Krysta had a very good sense that the “something” Udell found so intriguing was simply that she belonged to the Hawk, a man so far above him as to be the inevitable target of his bitter resentment and envy. But she was also vividly aware that whatever the cause, he was becoming aroused. Repugnance clawed at her and she made an instinctive effort to put distance between them.

Udell caught her chin, twisting her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Don't be coy. It doesn't become you. Peace with the Norse has much to recommend it to any king, including of Mercia.”

Through stiffened lips, Krysta said, “There is no king of Mercia.”

He flushed slightly, his eyes gleaming. “Today there is not. Tomorrow—” He shoved her hard against the wall and put his hands to her gown, pulling up her skirts to bare her legs.

“Wouldn't you rather be a queen than a mere lady?” he murmured as he ground himself against her.

Her stomach truly was going to rebel, and wouldn't that be a surprise for the despicable Lord Udell? Tempted though she was to let it happen, Krysta remembered suddenly what Thorgold had told her.

“There's men with black hearts, girl,” he had said in his gruff but loving way, “who care the earth for their own
wants and pig spit for anyone else's. Do you meet one like that, ye keep yer wits about ye good, an' when they least expect it, ye—”

Krysta took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and followed Thorgold's instructions precisely. The howl that erupted from Udell made the starlings nesting in the eaves flee into the sky.

Doubled over, his face turning purple, he gasped, “You bitch! How dare you! I'll—” Belatedly, she realized that he was, for all his posturing, a warrior and as such well accustomed to pain. He lunged after her and she only just managed to elude his grip, but the door back into the corridor stuck as she tried to open it and for a horrible moment she thought she was undone.

Until a blur of shining black and a raucous caw made her hope otherwise. A raven swooped into the courtyard, followed by another and another. Within moments, the air seemed filled with them as they dived and darted about Udell, pecking at him mercilessly. He screamed and tried to cover his head but to no avail. Rivulets of blood ran down his face and still the attack continued.

Krysta stood frozen in horror for a moment before her own peril drove her on. This time, the door yielded and she tumbled into the corridor even as Udell fell to the ground in the courtyard, writhing desperately in his efforts to keep the ravens from his eyes. His screams disturbed the hushed sanctity of the royal school. Doors began to open up and down the corridor as students and masters alike emerged to see what was happening.

Krysta did not wait to be seen by them but lifted her skirts and ran swift as the wind. She kept going until she came skittering around a corner and into the great hall. There she stopped abruptly for although it was not yet time to dine, there were people present. As curious eyes turned in her direction, she struggled to appear calm and composed.

To her immense relief, Hawk was there. She almost sobbed to see him and hurried to his side without thought, only to be shocked when he took a step back and stared at her coldly. “I was looking for you,” he said. “Come with me.”

He strode from the hall and into the well of the stairs leading to the guest quarters. Krysta trailed after him. Glad though she was to be away from the scrutiny of others, she found no comfort in the harsh gaze he turned on her the moment they were alone.

“You went to the queen.”

There was no mistaking that as anything other than an accusation. Still dazed by Udell's attack, she scrambled to defend herself. “I did not go to her. I was ill and Eahlswith kindly cared for me. It was the impulse of the moment to tell her what was in my heart, that is all.”

“I am to believe you did not think she would tell the king and he tell me?”

“Believe as you will, but no, I did not consider what she would do. Perhaps I should have.”

“Without doubt you should have. Does it please you, lady, to know that now Alfred thinks you may be better suited to an abbey than to marriage with me? Does your heart rejoice at news that he has spoken to me of finding another bride?”

In truth, her heart felt near to breaking but she tried valiantly to shore it up. This was what she had known must be. Why then did it shock so deeply that her very soul cried out in protest?

“There is no joy in this, my lord. If you believe otherwise, you are sorely mistaken.” She turned away, determined he would not see her anguish. Hawk reached out to stop her and gripped the same arm Udell had bruised. Krysta cried out and an instant later found herself free.

“Is my touch now so repugnant to you?” he demanded,
his face hard with anger and something else that looked very much like grief.

She truly had not thought of the consequences when she spilled her thoughts to Eahlswith and that was not a mistake Krysta would make again. If she told what had happened with Udell, she had no doubt that Hawk would go after him, his anger at her notwithstanding. Could she prevent it, she would not be the cause of any such confrontation.

“I am merely tired,” she said and knew it for the weak response it was.

He looked at her for a long moment, his features taut and his eyes so shadowed she could not see into them. When the silence had drawn bow-tight between them, he turned and without another word walked away from her.

T
HREE DAYS PASSED. DAYS OF SILENT MISERY FOR
Krysta in which each moment seemed to hang endlessly before sinking, one more drop, into the ever-widening pool of her unhappiness. The door between her room and Hawk's remained closed. Though they sat near each other at the high table each evening, they retired separately and without a word to each other.

Udell did not approach her again although several times she caught him looking at her with such deadly intent as to make the fine hairs at the nape of her neck rise in warning. She had made an enemy there and knew she might well live to regret it.

Eahlswith, however, remained a friend. Each morning, the queen sent a tray with a dry husk of bread and an infusion of chamomile, which soothed Krysta's troubled stomach due, no doubt, to her anguish over Hawk. She was quite certain he was the cause but she did not blame him for it. Indeed, she could blame him for nothing, for it
was her own relentless conscience that had plunged them into such conflict.

Raven and Thorgold were about, and she caught glimpses of them from time to time, but neither came near. How dearly she would have welcomed their company for never in her life had Krysta felt so alone. In the midst of the crowded court, always with the queen and her ladies, she felt as though she existed in a hollowed-out world that held only herself.

And perhaps also Esa, who could not contain her good cheer and who seemed to be everywhere at once. She was a figure of such relentless gaiety that people began to look at her with some wonderment as they speculated about the cause. By the third day, Krysta realized that such discussions broke off whenever she approached. She was the recipient of quick, sympathetic looks that set her teeth on edge.

To her disgust, she began to look for times when Esa and Hawk were together and quickly wished she had not, for such occurrences were all too frequent. When the court rode out to hunt, Esa maneuvered her mount next to Hawk's. Later, when Hawk and his men joined some of Alfred's on the training field beyond the town, Esa took her ladies and went to picnic nearby. Krysta caught sight of them from the queen's solar and rolled her eyes at the thought of fighting men being the object of such frivolous attention. But perhaps they liked it, for did not all men have a soft spot for flattery? Miserable at the thought that Hawk might actually enjoy Esa's simpering presence, Krysta withdrew and spent the rest of the afternoon sunk in sorry thoughts. That evening, in the great hall before they took their seats, Esa approached Hawk and engaged him in conversation. It seemed one-sided to be sure, for he appeared to respond in monosyllables, but she laughed gaily nonetheless, as though they were of one lighthearted mind.