Lady Knight (33 page)

She swung again. And again. And again. She drove Ralph back across the muddy
ground where men, dogs, and horses had churned the muck. His foot slipped. He
parried too slowly. The end of her sword bit into the meat of his upper arm.
Ralph lost his sneer as his left hand fell away from his sword hilt. Blood ran
down his sodden sleeve.

“Stop!” Geoffrey called. “Ralph! Stop this!”

Ralph flailed a strike at her. Riannon beat it aside and stepped close to him.
She thrust her sword low into his belly. The hilt jumped in her hands as his
body jerked with the shock of the impact. He grunted and dropped his sword.

“Does that feel good inside you?” she said.

Riannon shoved her blade deeper into him. He gasped. His body sagged. Riannon
released her sword and let him fall. He splatted into the mud with his hands
clutching at the blade sticking out of him. Riannon grabbed her sword hilt and
yanked the weapon free. Ralph screamed. The blade released another gush of blood
and a slippery loop of squirming entrail.

“I know I am not a man,” she said. “You aren’t much of one.”

“No! Ralph! My son.” Geoffrey splashed across to fling himself down in the mud
beside his writhing son. “Help me. Quickly. Send for healers! Get away from him.
Would you strike him again now?”

Riannon, soaked to the skin, glared down with contempt at the pair. “I do not
hit the defenceless. Nor will I let you do so. Remember that, old man.”

Riannon turned to squelch towards the door.

“Arrest her!” Geoffrey called. “My lords, you’re all my witnesses. I demand
justice!”

Aveline strolled behind the priestess sprinkling droplets along the path from a
green bough and a ewer of blessed water. The noon sun beamed down on the forest
of the grove casting short, dark shadows. The singing grew louder as they
approached the clearing.

Half a thousand priestesses, from aspirants to naers, stood in the great
clearing. No less than four mother-naers, in robes stiff with embroidery and
gold thread, stood beside the pool. They flanked the thin, white-haired figure
of the matriarch. The old woman’s skin looked more grey than brown, but her eyes
defied age. They bored into Aveline. How she hated to do this. Aveline smiled.
Matriarch Melisande replied with a wintry thinning of lips.

Though the preliminary ceremony, with its prolonged singing and chanting and
prayers, lasted nearly two hours, the investiture itself was of short duration.
Priestesses removed Aveline’s plain green robe and led her to the side of the
pool. Another helped her shrug off her chemise. She stood naked before her
peers, the woods, the pool, and in the presence of the Lady of Creation.

One of the mother-naers put the questions of piety to Aveline. Matriarch
Melisande stepped forwards to perform the purifying immersion. Aveline felt
small hands hard against her back give her a strong shove. She hit the pool
water face-first and unintentionally swallowed some of the blessed water.

The matriarch’s ill-will could not lessen Aveline’s triumph.
I shall endeavour
to let no mortal obstacles block your wishes.
Aveline was making good her
promise to the Lady of Creation. She stood one long step closer to the
matriarchy, one step closer to the goal that the Goddess urged her towards.

Aveline waded out to the sound of beautiful singing. Priestesses passed her
towels and helped her dry herself. She put on a clean chemise and one of the
mother-naers helped her into a new robe that signified her rebirth from the
sanctified water as a mother-naer.

The heavy robe about her shoulders felt as natural as if she had been fitted for
the dignity from her emergence from her mortal mother’s womb. As she led the
prayer of thanks, she could all but taste the power thrumming through the
clearing. Could that be a divine signal of approval of her success? Mother-Naer
Aveline. Member of the convocation of the Order of the Goddess. One of the
twenty. When the matriarch died, which could not be more than a dozen years
hence, the twenty would elect one of their number to assume the fallen mantle.
Aveline could become matriarch before the age of fifty. The youngest ever. The
one with the most time to steer the order to ascendant power. One day, she would
stand at the edge of the waters in the Cave of the Pool and make the whole world
tremble in the name of the Goddess.

The matriarch beckoned to Aveline. Aveline stepped forwards and bowed her head
for the kiss of sisterhood. Melisande’s eyes were glacial. She signalled for the
hymn to start.

Under the cover of the singing, Melisande whispered, “You won this round. But
this isn’t the end.”

Aveline merely smiled, bowed, and took her place with the other mother-naers.
She had the Goddess on her side.

Her dreams were coming true – she was making them unfold before her. The crusade
had begun well. Part of poor Evriat again breathed free of the infidel yoke.
Perhaps, in time, they could smash the whole rotten empire and beat the
unbelievers back to the sea. With a matriarch in command of the power of the
cave pool and her paladin wielding the blessed sword as no less a person than
the Vahldomne, dreams could become reality. With a little effort and planning,
there was nothing Aveline could not do to enact the will of the Goddess.

As she walked out of the grove with the other mother-naers following the
matriarch, Aveline smiled. How unexpectedly valuable that meeting with her
cousin Riannon had been. Who would have predicted their paths so intimately
entwined? Perhaps greatness lay ahead for them both. Aveline still sometimes
marvelled at how close she had been to losing control of her most valuable asset
through that liaison with Eleanor of Barrowmere. She ought to return to Tirand
soon, to ensure that nothing untoward happened in her sister’s kingdom, and to
check Riannon’s resolve.

Aveline stepped out of the trees of the grove into the full glare of sun. She
had every right to exult in her victories this day, and expect many more such
days to come.
Wise Mother, I do your will.

“Riannon!”

Riannon halted halfway across the hall. Henry spearheaded the group striding in
her wake. Impatient as she was to return to Eleanor, she did not want all these
men stomping up to Eleanor’s chamber behind her.

“By Atuan’s beard,” Henry said, “what have you done?”

“I need an accounting of this,” Humphrey said. “That man is like to die from
that belly wound. He was my guest.”

“I offered a challenge,” Riannon said. “He accepted. It was no murder.”

“That might be so,” Henry said, “but it was hardly a fair fight.”

Riannon’s fingers tightened on the hilt of her bloody sword. “Do you accuse me
of using dishonourable means?”

“Of course I don’t!” Henry said. “But you’re the Vahldomne. You could kill
better men than Ralph Howe with your arm in a sling.”

“He is not dead,” she said.

“He will be in two or three days when his belly rots and fills with maggots,”
Henry said. “Damn it, Riannon, I like him as little as anyone, but you can’t
just go killing men because they’re half-witted braggarts.”

A scream caused them all to turn. Men carried Ralph into the hall. His father
shouted at them to have care. Joan left them to stride across to stand beside
her husband.

“I’ve dispatched a man to the local grove to fetch a healer priestess,” Joan
said. “Saving a miracle, though, he’ll die under our roof. Nonnie, why did you
do it?”

Riannon had no intention of mentioning Eleanor. “It was a matter of honour.”

Henry and Humphrey looked unhappy, but both nodded.

“What of my family’s reputation?” Joan said. “My sister cannot indiscriminately
slaughter our guests.”

“Nonnie issued a challenge,” Guy said. “We all heard him accept.”

Joan threw a hard glare at him. “You’re not on a battlefield, you’re in my
house. Nonnie, you broke the queen’s peace. In the name of the gods, why did you
do it? Men have been imprisoned or outlawed from the kingdom for less. Did that
cross your mind before you drew your sword?”

“My lords!” Geoffrey pushed his way through the guests. “I demand justice for my
son. My Lord Earl, I lay a charge against her.”

“Be calm,” Henry said. “Make no hasty accusations against my sister.”

“You saw what she did to him.” Geoffrey levelled a shaking finger at Riannon.
“He is like to die. You all watched it.”

“We saw a challenge issued and answered,” Humphrey said. “Have a care before you
say aught you might regret. Remember, you speak of the Vahldomne.”

Geoffrey clenched his fists. “Pah! My son was right. How can any believe a
woman’s claim to that name? If you’re all unmanned by her, I’m not. Someone give
me a sword and I’ll have restitution.”

“Don’t be a fool, man,” Humphrey said. “Your wits are disordered.”

Riannon was conscious of the weight of her weapon still in her hand. If only
Geoffrey had been twenty or thirty years younger, she would make the despicable
whoreson pay for Eleanor’s injuries. She turned to Alan and handed him her
sword. Her conspicuous and casual disarming in the face of his threat incensed
Geoffrey even more. His eyes looked wild as if her thrust into his son’s belly
had cut some of Geoffrey’s wits loose.

“I demand justice!” Geoffrey said. “Will you all just stand there and do nought?
My son lies in agony because she attacked him!”

“Had you more regard to justice,” Riannon said, “I would not have needed to do
aught.”

Geoffrey stared at her without the faintest glimmer of comprehension. Eleanor
and her suffering did not exist for him. He cared only for his worthless son.
Riannon’s contempt knew no bounds.

“You have a right selective way with invoking law,” Riannon said. “You know what
he did. He needed to be held accountable. You did not do it. You blamed the
blameless one. He got less than he deserves, and if I could think of a way to
make you suffer for your complicity, I would do it.”

Geoffrey’s white brows drew together as he frowned up at her. “What –”

“If you ever do anything like it again – if you raise your fist – if you raise
your voice, remember me.”

Confusion gave way to dawning comprehension and anger on Geoffrey’s face. “Her.
You’ve talked to – she disobeyed me.”

Riannon had much to say on that subject, but where he might have so far
forgotten himself as to be unaware of their audience, she was not. She would not
drag Eleanor into this, nor expose her suffering to general gossip. While it
might be easy to walk away from him, though, how could she leave Eleanor in his
power?

“I see how it is, now,” Geoffrey said. “She did this. And you – you have no
right to interfere in my family affairs.”

Riannon stepped closer to stare down at him. She lowered her voice. “Have some
sense. Keep her out of this.”

“She has always been jealous of Ralph,” Geoffrey said. “He warned me. So did
Phillipa. I should have listened. Ralph is always right. She has spun some lies
to you and –”

Riannon grabbed the front of his tunic. “I’ve seen her.”

Henry clamped a hand on her arm. “Riannon? What is this?”

Riannon released Geoffrey when she really wanted to beat him senseless.

“She has meddled where she had no right,” Geoffrey said. “She has incited my
wife to disobedience. And my wife has used her to harm my son!”

Riannon turned her back on him and resumed her path to the far doors. The crowd
of guests and servants parted to let her through.

“I ask you to support my rights as a father!” Geoffrey said. “And as a husband.”

“Riannon!” Henry called. “Have you nought to say? These are heavy matters.”

Riannon turned a look of disgust on Geoffrey. She should not have expected the
man who condoned the beating and rape of his wife to have even the minimal
honour to want to protect his wife’s good name. Well, there was one way to stop
this. She signalled to Alan.

“If you wish to detain me,” Riannon said, “my sword is there for your taking.”

Geoffrey smiled. Neither Henry nor Humphrey moved to relieve her squire of her
weapon.

“No,” Eleanor said.

Riannon would not have recognised Eleanor with her mantle hood pulled about her
face if Agnes had not closely shadowed her. People moved aside to allow her
through. The cloth across her face did not hide the ugly livid swelling that
closed her left eye.

“You should not be here,” Riannon said.

“You didn’t return,” Eleanor said. “I was worried that you were hurt or – I
couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d sent you to –”

“I am unharmed,” Riannon said. “And you have no cause to fear him again.”

Eleanor nodded. “Thank the gods. But I can’t let you surrender yourself because
of me.”

“This is your fault,” Geoffrey said to Eleanor. “My son lies with his life in
peril. Because you disobeyed me!”

He closed on Eleanor. “You sent her to kill him. By the gods, if my son dies –”

Riannon stepped in his path and pushed him back. “I warned you.”

“Get out of my way,” he said. “She’s my wife.”

“It’s time you remembered that,” Riannon said. “Your duty is to protect her and
honour her.”

Geoffrey glared up at her. “You seek to teach me a husband’s part?”

“You have need of someone telling you what you ought to do,” Riannon said.
“Your wife should not fear you. Nor your son.”

Geoffrey stabbed an angry glare at Eleanor standing behind Riannon, then he
finally appeared to remember their audience. “My family. The gossip. My son.
Lord of gods, what is happening? What have you done to us?”

Eleanor moved from behind Riannon.

“I trust him not to look to your best care,” Riannon said.

“Nor I.” Eleanor tugged one of her rings off. “The only part of me he really
valued, he has control of.”

She dropped her wedding ring. It disappeared amongst the crushed rushes.

Riannon ignored the murmurs as she watched Eleanor walk away. She was unsure she
fully understood what she’d just witnessed.

“It’s nerves,” Geoffrey said. “She – She cannot abide sickness. She’s squeamish.
Overwrought. My lords, please forget… My son. I must go to my son.”

“He is brainsick.” Henry shook his head as he watched Geoffrey shoving his way
to where his son lay groaning. “Riannon, what is your part in all this?”

Riannon felt as though she stood on the edge of a precipice. She strode off in
Eleanor’s wake.

Eleanor and her woman sorted clothes. Packing, ready to leave.

“Can you truly sacrifice it all?” Riannon said.

Eleanor straightened. Her mantle fell from her face, exposing the pulpy mess
Ralph had made of her.

“I am not thinking as well as I ought,” Eleanor said. “I know that. But I cannot
live scared. If Ralph dies, Geoffrey will hold me to blame. If he kills me in
some rage, or through mistreatment and neglect, what consolation is there to
being a wealthy corpse? Will you take me to a grove house? I have enough in my
jewellery casket to persuade them to admit me as a dedicant.”

“You want a religious life?” Riannon said.

“I’ll be safe there.”

“You’d be safer with me.”

Eleanor averted her face and wandered across the chamber to stare out at the
rain. Riannon followed her.

“I can’t offer you much,” Riannon said. “Not compared to what you leave behind.
I know not if I can help you regain any of your possessions from him. But I can
protect you. No man will touch you.”