Lord of the Blade (23 page)

"Do you think me such an inept knight that I
do not know when I have been betrayed? I heard her sneak from the
room, but decided to follow. I waited to see where she would go,
and what she would do, but never had I thought she’d try to kill
the baron.”

Devon's mouth opened in shock. He really
believed that she had tried to kill a man. Hadn't he seen deeper
into her heart than that as she expressed her true self in his arms
last night? Didn't he know that she would never do anything to harm
this gentle man? Or were the walls around his heart really as cold
as ice?

"We need the trial," broke in the baroness.
"Lord Corbett, 'tis your duty to seek justice."

"Aye," agreed Corbett, “and that I will do.
But this matter will have to wait, as the baron has already
requested I see to the rest of his affairs. I will leave this
morning. The trial will be upon my return."

Devon's heart dropped at his words. It was
clear to her now that she meant nothing to him at all.

“Come,” he told Devon, guiding her to the
door. “You will be under my watch until I can find a place to leave
you.”

Devon kept her gaze steady, careful not to
show the tear in her eye. Her world was shattered and would never
be the same again.

Chapter 15

Devon stood motionless as Corbett prepared his horse
for his journey. He hadn’t said two words to her since he’d brought
her from the baron’s room. She’d tried to talk to him and tell him
she wasn’t guilty, but he told her unless she could give him
reasons for her actions, he had no other choice than to believe she
was trying to kill the man.

After his lack of trust in her, she decided she
would tell him nothing.

He fastened his saddle bag to his horse, and
the feeling of him leaving sat sour in her stomach. The night she’d
shared in his arms was the best night of her life. He’d opened his
heart to her, and knocked down the wall he’d used to guard his
emotions. Now it was back up stronger than ever, and she didn’t
know if she’d ever be able to break through again.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He continued to fasten down his supplies on
the horse’s back while he talked. “You’ll be staying at the
monastery until I return.”

“I won’t go back there. I belong here now.
The castle is my home.”

He looked up at this comment, but his gaze
didn’t linger. He picked up his sword from the hay where his raven
sat pecking at the weapon, and polished it with a soft rag. “The
castle is my home, and I intend to keep it that way. You belong in
the monastery.”

She couldn’t help but feel his comment had
something to do with last night.

“Your heart is closed again, Corbett. Your
fear of loss is blinding you to your true emotions.”

“I fear naught.”

“You fear love. You’ve lost everyone you’ve
ever loved and that’s why you’ve closed yourself off to these
emotions.”

He threw down the rag and slid his sword
into his scabbard. “Do not speak to me of love. There is no such
thing in the life of a warrior.”

“There is if you’ll let it.” She stepped
forward and touched him on the hand. He looked down at it and his
jaw tightened.

“Don’t,” was all he said. “Now get on the
horse, and I will take you to the monastery.”

Devon removed her hand from his. The warmth
she’d felt last night no longer existed. The dark, cruel man with
the horrid temper was back and she could do nothing to change it.
If only she had never gone to the baron’s room, then everything
would be different.

“I don’t want to go,” she told him, but he
had no tolerance for her this day. He helped her atop his horse,
then mounted in front of her in what Devon thought to be a subtle
reminder of her position. She wanted to slip her hands around his
waist and give him the hug he needed, but she did not dare.

He held out his arm and his raven flew to
him. He placed the bird on the pommel and met his squire outside
the stable. He didn’t talk at all until they got to the monastery.
Even then, he’d only instructed her that she was to do the chores
required of her. She was to talk to no one, and none of the monks
except Ruford were to acknowledge her presence.

An uncommon spring snow storm swirled around
Corbett as his stallion trudged the worn, rocky trail leading to
the outskirts of Exeter. His raven sat perched upon the pommel of
the saddle in front of him. Corbett reached out a weary finger and
ran it over the bird's ruffled feathers. He always looked to his
raven for solace when he was feeling disturbed.

So far the baron's estates had seemed to be
in good order throughout his trip, though he hadn't found a man
anywhere that carried the mark of the royal dagger. Also, since
word was out he was looking for a wife, he'd had many opportunities
to choose a woman, but none of them interested him though they were
more than qualified to bear his heir. All he could think of was
Devon and the look upon her face when he told her she'd go to
trial.

A cold gust of wind whipped Corbett's cloak
behind his back, and he lowered his head as he pushed forward
against the perils of nature.
An omen
, he thought. 'Twas to
warn him not to enter Lord Boltoff's domain at Deofol manner. The
man had left on bad terms thanks to the baroness and he didn't want
to be the one to bare the brunt of their quarrel.

"Have you chosen a replacement yet, m'lord,
to be your squire when I'm knighted?" came Delwynn's voice from
behind him. "I hear Chadwick, Sir Edmund's squire, is mastering the
sword quite nicely.”

Corbett shifted slightly on his horse to
talk to Delwynn. "Aye. And as the lord of Steepleton, I have the
right to any squire I choose. That is, unless my overlord sees
differently."

"Has the baron someone in mind for the
position?"

"Leighton." One word was all he had to
say.

"Leighton? The page?" Delwynn seemed as
surprised as Corbett when Kenric had told him. "If you don't mind
me saying, m'lord - shouldn't you have someone who is more suited
to protect you?"

Corbett brushed a stray wisp of hair from
his eye. "Doesn't matter, when one's the son of an earl."

"Could it be," Delwynn tried to approach the
matter cautiously, "that the baron still suffers from a confused
mind?"

"The baron is good friends with the Earl of
Warwick. Confused or not, my fate is already determined that his
son shall be my new squire."

"The boy is young," sallied Delwynn. "He
surely doesn't yet have the skills it takes to become a
squire."

"The boy is disastrous," corrected Corbett.
"He tripped over his own shoe when he brought me water to wash
before a meal. Between you and I - even with extensive training I
doubt he'll ever come close to your skills."

“You are too kind, m'lord," Delwynn answered
with a satisfied smile.

Kind? Corbett thought of the maidservant
Devon and how he would bring her to trial upon his return. He felt
like the devil for having to do it

"Nay, Delwynn. I'm not nearly as kind as you
think."

Devon strolled through the cloisters of St.
Basil's monastery, not at all happy being back at the place where
she’d lived under lock and key for the last eight and ten years.
Now, to make matters worse, Corbett had forbade Heartha and Devon’s
new friends from visiting her while he was gone. Once again, she
was trapped within the monastery's walls.

A crisp, cold breeze billowed her unbound
hair, and she quickly pulled the hood of her borrowed cape over her
head for warmth. She followed the covered pathway from the kitchen,
as the monk's noonday meal had ended and her help would not be
required till their next meal on the morrow. She smiled as she
thought of the simple meals once a day that the monks enjoyed. What
ease it was for her not to have to tend to the large, elegant ones
expected by the nobility twice a day.

She nodded to several of the monks clothed
in their dark Benedictine cassocks, covered by hooded robes which
partially hid their faces. But not a one acknowledged her presence
as they scurried past with their wide-angled sleeves flowing in the
breeze. These monks had been her friends throughout the years, but
now would barely even look at her, by orders of Lord Corbett. She
shivered and pulled her cape closer, feeling like the whole world
condemned her for something she didn't do.

She made her way past the charter house and
faced the huge church on the north side of the cloisters. The tower
bell started to chime and Devon hurried on, knowing it signaled the
time for reading and studying before one last prayer period,
followed by evening vespers. She thought she had overheard Brother
Ruford telling a layman that he would be meeting with the cellarer
this afternoon. So, she took a direct line across the courtyard
towards the cellarer's office.

The wind whipped her hood from her head, and
she found herself momentarily blinded by her mass of long hair. Her
body crashed into another in her haste, and as she pulled her long
locks from her eyes she saw a monk standing across from her
regaining his balance. The large book he had been carrying was now
lying open on the ground.

"I'm sorry. How clumsy of me." She bent down
to retrieve the book before the monk could do so himself. Still, no
words did he speak, as she quickly brushed off the parchment pages
and closed the leather cover.
The Chronicles,
she read the
Latin title before carefully handing it back to the man.

"I'm sure 'twill be all right, Brother
Aldrich, she nervously replied as she now recognized the monk. She
felt terrible knowing how precious and expensive an item it was she
had so carelessly knocked to the ground. The monk retrieved the
book and hurried through the cloisters in silence.

Devon breathed a sigh of relief at not even
being reprimanded for such an act. She almost longed for the
bellowing voice of Lord Corbett. It had been days now since she
last saw him, and though the man infuriated her almost as much as
she did him, she still found herself wanting to be near him. She
couldn't help but remember the need in his eyes to be loved.

"Hello, Devon."

She jumped at the abrupt voice that broke
the uneasy silence. Brother Ruford had just exited the cellarer’s
office.

"What startles you?" Brother Ruford asked.
"You act as though you have seen a ghost."

Ghost.
Just the word sent a shiver
through her body, remembering the vision of Orrick she had seen in
the baron's chamber.

"'Tis the silence that's been most
deafening," she commented. "Just the sound of your voice seems as
sharp as a spear piercing through me."

"You only battle with yourself," Ruford said
knowingly. "If there is something you would speak of, you may do so
with me. Besides, it seems you'd be used to the silence of our
order."

"'Tis just that at the castle everyone
speaks. There is music and shouting and much noise. I'd forgotten
the peacefulness of the monastery."

"Well, it won't be this way any longer,
Devon. The new bishop has informed me the Benedictines no longer
have to honor the vow of silence. The monks are only remaining
silent towards you because of Lord Corbett's wishes.

"I see," said Devon. "So Lord Corbett has
sentenced them as well.” She tried to push the thought from her
mind. "Brother Ruford, what can you tell me about
The
Chronicles
?”

"The Chronicles tell of history," he
explained. "There are many books, dating throughout the years."

"How detailed are they?"

"Oh, very," he answered. "They cover
anything from great wars, to droughts, to weddings, all the way
down to the local gossip spread last night by wagging tongues."

"Really?" Devon was elated. If this were
true, she may be able to find out about her past. "I would like to
read them,” she announced.

"Well, I should not let you, but I will," he
concluded. "As I am the chamberlain of the monastery, I am also in
charge of the scriptorium. I would see to it you be allowed in the
writing room to look at the Chronicles on the morrow."

"I am gracious for your true kindness,
Brother Ruford, and I promise to treat the books with all due
respect."

"I know you will, Devon. I believe your
word.”

“If only Lord Corbett would believe so
easily.”

"I do not believe Lord Corbett would judge
anyone unfairly, without first letting them defend their innocence.
You must have explained to him the details of the situation for
which you are accused?"

Devon hesitated. "I did not."

Ruford raised a brow. "And yet you expect
him to acknowledge your innocence, though you have given him no
reason to believe you?” The monk shook his head. “I believe your
heart gets in the way of your tongue. I have seen the way you look
at him, and also the caring way in which he looks at you."

“Caring?” she said with a laugh. “He denies
his emotions and puts up a wall between us.”

“Then you must help him remove that wall,
Devon. Remove it before it is too late.”

Corbett finished his inspection of Deofol
manor late in the day. He walked toward the stables, intending on
seeing how Delwynn was doing in removing the rust from his
armor.

The snow of the morning was already melted,
the sun trying to peek out from behind the clouds. The storm was a
fluke, and short lived. He was grateful of that, as he had no
intention of spending the night inside Lord Boltoff's walls.

Lord Boltoff had accompanied him on most his
inspection, obviously to make sure Corbett didn't see anything he
wasn't supposed to. But Corbett had ventured off on his own as soon
as he could and found things he hadn't seen while on his tour.