The Damsel's Defiance (11 page)

‘We managed,’ she replied eventually, trying to keep her tone neutral.

‘We managed,’ Talvas mimicked her words. Did he mock her? ‘How you make light of your situation,
mam’selle.
Why, it’s hard enough in this life for a woman to survive without a man at her side, let alone to run a merchant ship across the Channel.’

‘The Empress seems to survive admirably and she intends to run a country.’

Talvas gave a snort. ‘She has a retinue of servants in tow, catering to her every need. Look at how Earl Robert attends to her every word.’ he nodded his head in the direction of the cart in which the Empress rode. ‘You would do well to keep away from her, Emmeline.’ His voice held the dark thread of warning.

‘Why, now you tell me who my friends can be!’ she protested. ‘I like the Empress; I like her spirit!’

‘She sees the same qualities in you,’ Talvas murmured. ‘Just don’t become too close.’

‘I heed you, Talvas.’ Emmeline scanned his face, searching for an explanation to his mysterious words. ‘You warn me away from her because you don’t approve of a woman on the throne.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Did I say that?’

‘You resent any woman’s independence. You condemn her as you condemn me!’

Leaning over, with a creak of the saddle, he grabbed her reins, pulling her horse to a stop. ‘That’s not the truth, Emmeline and well you know it. You are different, unusual. Your behaviour kicks against the norm, but it cannot be censured. I realise that now. Your behaviour is to be praised.’

‘I did what anyone would have done, Talvas, to save the ship.’

‘That may be so, but it was still a daring feat.’

‘So can you now see that I can take care of myself, that I have no need of a man by my side?’ She wanted him to understand, to realise that her independence was of the utmost importance to her.

He laughed. ‘Nay, mistress. On that point, I would have to disagree. The way your body responds to me would seem to contradict your speech.’

Emmeline flushed uncomfortably at the shocking impact of his words, aware that the driver of the ox cart was just behind them. ‘You catch me unawares; take advantage of me,’ she whispered, shakily. ‘There’s little I can do to defend myself in those circumstances.’

‘Then I’ll make sure you are well prepared next time.’ His eyes glowed.

Her mind emptied at the audacity of his words, his sheer temerity, but before she could think of an appropriate riposte, something to put this irritating man in his place, Guillame rode alongside, his youthful face split into a grin. He flicked on the reins, turning his horse to fall into step alongside them.

‘Hawkeshayne awaits you, my lord. I have tumbled them out of their beds, and now they rush around in mad preparation.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Talvas replied. ‘I myself am in dire need of a bath, as I’m sure the rest of us are.’ His eyes alighted briefly on Emmeline’s damp form.

Guillame nodded. ‘The cauldrons of water are set upon the fires as we speak, my lord.’ He glanced at Emmeline. ‘See, my lady, Hawkeshayne is not far now.’ He pointed along the river valley.

In the distance, emerging from the fluctuating river mists, Emmeline caught her first glimpse of Lord Talvas’s home. The soaring battlements of the castle stood on a natural promontory that jutted out into the wide estuary. Bounded on three sides by the river at high tide and marshy reedbeds at low tide, the only access lay to the east, over a long wooden bridge that linked the castle to a bundle of cottages and huts clustering at the river’s edge.

‘I assumed that your home was in Boulogne, my lord,’ Emmeline said, unable to contain an element of curiosity. Besides, she wanted to deflect any further questions from him regarding her own life. ‘I had no idea that you lived in England.’

‘William the Conqueror gave the estate to my grandfather, who fought alongside him at Hastings. My father gave it to me when my sister Matilda married William’s nephew, Stephen. I think he realised I would gain more use from it, preferring mastery of the sea to that of the sword.’

Emmeline nodded, acknowledging the rows of boats hauled up onto the shore line below as the horses turned onto and clattered over a wooden bridge. Soldiers garbed in surcoats of green and gold, the colours of Lord Talvas, stood to attention as they passed beneath the huge archway of the gatehouse. Emmeline caught a glimpse of the elaborate carvings of mythical beasts and birds decorating the upper recessed bands of stonework, the noise of her horse’s hooves echoing in the confined space, before emerging into the daylight of the outer bailey.

‘My lord, my lord, it’s so good to have you home again!’ A small, wiry man rushed up to Talvas.

‘It’s good to be home, albeit in such unexpected circumstances,’ Talvas pulled off his wide-brimmed leather hat, running his fingers through his hair. The sleek black waves clung to his head, emphasising the corded strength of his neck. Emmeline diverted her eyes to look around her. How strange to see so many men with such long hair, she thought. Despite the Norman invasion of England nearly seventy years previous, it seemed that some of the original Anglo-Saxons refused to adopt the Norman fashions. Most of the men here looked like barbarians!

Talvas dismounted in one easy movement. ‘How goes it, Waltheof?’ he handed his reins over to a servant, who led the horse away.

‘Chambers have been prepared for your
guests,
’ Waltheof replied. The emphasis on the final word indicated that he had full knowledge that royalty was amongst the party. ‘And here is Bronwen, who will attend the Empress.’ A tall, willowy girl stepped forward to the Empress and curtsied as Maud was helped from her horse. ‘A fire is lit in the great hall and food is already prepared,’ Waltheof continued, puffing his chest out a little in acknowledgement of his own efficiency.

Talvas placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘You have done well, Waltheof, in such a short time.’

Earl Robert approached Talvas, drawing him aside and indicating the ox cart. Talvas nodded. ‘I will provide an escort to the abbey in Reading. Let my men break their fast, and then they will be ready to go. Consider it done.’

Still sitting atop her horse, catching the drift of their murmured whispers, Emmeline seethed. So, he could provide knights to travel alongside a dead body, but he couldn’t perform the same service for her!

‘Still wanting to fly, my little bird?’ Talvas approached her in two great strides. ‘You seem a mite reluctant to dismount.’

‘I have no desire to stay here, and well you know it.’ She glared down at him, although in truth, she longed for a bath and a change of clean clothes. ‘You can provide an escort for a dead body immediately, but deny me the same!’

‘Such ingratitude!’ he replied, a teasing light entering his eyes. ‘You demand much,
mam’selle.
I have offered to mend your ship, and provide an escort for you on the morrow. Surely one more night is not too onerous?’

How could she tell him that she dreaded the magnetic pull of his presence, the lack of control in her own behaviour around him? He made her act in a way that perplexed and mystified her, spurring her to such wilful abandonment that she feared her own downfall. She nibbled at her bottom lip, uncertain, shaking her head. ‘I must get away from here. From you!’ In horror, she realised she had spoken the words aloud. His eyes darkened. His hand clamped around her horse’s bridle, drawing the animal, and herself, closer to him.

‘Why?’ A thread of steel entered his voice.

She shook her head, unable, unwilling to answer.

‘Are you afeard of what might happen?’ His voice poured over her, full of unspoken promise.

‘Afeard?’ she questioned, haltingly. She had to break this mood between them!

‘Afeard of me?’

Perched atop the horse, Emmeline drew her back up straight and faced him, openly hostile. ‘Afeard of you?’ she scoffed. ‘Nay, never, my lord!’

He grinned suddenly, a devilish taunting smile. The spiralling, mounting tension between them ruptured, suddenly. Relief flooded over her.

‘Dangerous words,
mam’selle.
’ Large hands reached up to encircle her slim waist, lifting her easily from the saddle. Clamped against his broad chest, his saturnine, laughing face
just inches from her own, she regretted her previous taunt. He was too close! She struggled slightly, ineffectually, aware of the muscled bands of his chest pressing through the fragile material of her underdress, heating her skin. Her feet dangled uselessly above the cobbles.

‘Art thou afeard?’ he asked again, his arms locking tightly into the small of her back.

‘Put me down!’ she demanded fiercely.

‘Answer the question, my lady.’

‘I have told you “nay”!’ She glared at him, staring into the deep blue of his eyes, the sapphire whirlpool that threatened to drown her, to consume her. His lips moved downwards. ‘My lord, remember where you are!’ she begged him.

He cursed suddenly, dropping her abruptly on the ground, stepping back. The laughing expression dropped from his face, to be replaced by a blank mask. ‘Forgive me,
mam’selle,
I forget myself.’

‘You have no right to treat me so!’ She told him off, folding her arms defensively in front of her.

He grimaced. ‘You will be gone on the morrow—’ His voice sounded harsh ‘—then we will be rid of each other for ever.’

‘That can only be a blessing,’ she retorted. But her heart felt cold.

E
mmeline emerged tentatively into the great hall, bathed, clothed in fresh dry garments and feeling infinitely revived. It was not long after the four o’clock bell, yet with the lowering skies, darkness had fallen early on this midwinter day. Huge rush torches slung into iron sconces lit up the high chamber in a blaze of light and a substantial fireplace threw out welcoming draughts of heat. Intricate tapestries woven in bright reds, blues and greens hung from the wooden rafters above to the stone flagstones below. A haze of woodsmoke hung over the room, where rows of laughing peasants, knights and servants crowded onto the trestle tables, banging and clattering with their platters and tankards. Emmeline wondered where she was expected to sit—up at the top table where she could see the Empress, Talvas and the Earl Robert seated already, or down in the mêleé amongst the lower-ranking knights and villagers who worked for the estate.

‘Come, my lady. Allow me to escort you.’

Emmeline turned to see the smiling profile of Guillame at her side. Despite having at least thirty winters, his features retained the rounded plumpness of someone far younger.
Taking her arm courteously, he led her gracefully through the jumbled mêleé to help her into an empty place at the top table. Sitting beside her, he helped her to a choice selection of roasted meats, vegetables and poured wine into her goblet.

‘My thanks, Guillame.’ She turned to him gratefully.

‘My pleasure,’ he replied, seriously. ‘Remember, because of you, we are safe in England and not at the bottom of the sea.’

‘Only just. It was a miracle that no one was killed when the boat came to shore.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,
mam’selle.
We only reached the shore because we were able to steer properly with the repaired sail. You did well.’ His voice was full of admiration.

Emmeline’s stomach growled. Hearing it, Guillame smiled. ‘You must eat,
mam’selle.’
The delicious scent of roast chicken tantalised her nostrils and she tucked in with relish, watching as the trestle tables were pushed to the sides of the hall below them.

‘Why are they doing that?’ She whispered to Guillame, who had just started his fourth chicken leg.

Guillame looked at her in amazement, the succulent meat poised
en route
to his mouth. ‘Why, now they have finished their meal, they will dance, my lady. We must have some entertainment on these long winter nights.’

As if on cue, the musicians in one corner, on lute, lyre and harp, struck up with a farandole. The sweet tempo of the delicate music filled the hall, enthusing everyone with a sense of occasion, of celebration. Their lord and master was home! Lord Talvas had returned! With delight, the peasants and knights milled about, trying to organise themselves for the first dance. Emmeline watched the smiling faces below, linking hands, forming a long chain that began to weave back and forth across the floor in time to the complicated rhythm of the music. So this is what life at a lord’s castle is like, she
thought. Full of music and light and laughter and very different from the quiet, humble life she had lived with her mother; different from the austere, restricted life she had led with Giffard. Her feet tapped under the table to the beat of the music as she followed the dancing chain with her eyes. Soon, she became confused as the leader, a jovial man with a florid, sweaty face began to duck in and out of the connected arms of the chain, drawing the rest of the line with him.

‘’Tis a mystery to me, this dancing.’ She smiled at Guillame.

He appeared puzzled. ‘But you have danced before, my lady.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

Emmeline shook her head. ‘Nay, I’ve never had the—’ But her words were drowned out as the crowd began to roar. As the line twisted and turned the chant rose higher and higher above the sound of the music. ‘Talvas! Talvas!’ Emmeline looked along the length of the table toward Talvas. Her view was blocked by the Empress Maud sitting in a hefty oak chair.

‘Surely they don’t expect him to dance!’ She couldn’t imagine Talvas ever performing such a frivolous activity.

‘You’d be surprised, my lady.’ Guillame answered. He licked his lips free from the grease of the chicken, before using his eating knife to stab a piece of pork from a serving platter.

A great roar emerged as Talvas stood up, magnificent in a green and gold tunic that fitted the breadth of his wide shoulders like a second skin. The bleached linen of his chemise contrasted strongly with his tanned neck and face; the dark, upward slash of his brow lending him a fiendish air. And then he was at Emmeline’s side, his supple leather braies clinging to his brawny thighs, as he held out his hand to her. She stared at him aghast. Guillame nudged her. ‘Now is your chance to try, my lady,’ his ale-laced breath whispered in her ear.

‘I cannot,’ she whispered, eyeing Talvas with dismay. She would trip and stumble across the floor, embarrass him
with her disability. The stiffness in her ankle would not allow her to perform the swift, graceful movements that a farandole demanded.

‘Come, my lady,’ Talvas said fiercely. The gleaming blue of his eyes challenged her. ‘Do not refuse me. The people wish to honour you for bringing me home safely.’ He lowered his voice, so only she could hear the smooth velvet of his tone. ‘
I
wish to honour you.’

Her heart flipped with untrammelled joy. ‘I…er…Talvas, my leg…?’ Huge green eyes appealed to his, tried to make him understand.

He smiled, the light of comprehension already in his eyes. ‘I had not forgotten, mistress.’ In two strides he stood beside her, grasping her hand and pulling her upright. The warmth of his breath tickled her ear. ‘And I will not let you fall.’

The sea of faces went wild as Talvas led her carefully down the steps to the lower level of the great hall, people cheering and clapping, parting respectfully before them as the music struck up once more.

‘Just follow me.’ Talvas looked down at her, a fleeting smile of reassurance. He held her left hand and a leering, pock-marked knight held on to her right with a sweaty grip. Emmeline mirrored Talvas’s movements with a grim determination, taking little steps round and round, in and out of the other dancers. As her step faltered with her weak leg, Talvas yanked her back up, so swiftly and assuredly that no one noticed. He seemed to sense the moment before she would stumble, the power of his body scooping her round as if she were weightless. Slowly, her confidence began to grow. He would not let her fall! The tense lines of concentration lifted from her face; her lips curved into a tentative smile. Emmeline relaxed into the sweet lilting melody, turning and turning into the rhythms of the music. The hall became a whirligig of
colours, a sea of vibrant, laughing faces, her only constant, the assured steady pressure of Talvas’s hand, and occasional glimpse of his lean, angular features as she swept in his wake. The music sang into her veins as the crowd turned in a circle around them as they danced as a pair; her fingers linked with his as he laid an arm across the back of her shoulders, her left arm stretched across the flat muscle of his stomach to hold his left hand. She ceased to dwell on the intimacy of the situation, releasing herself to the vibrant chords of the music. After tomorrow, they would never see each other again.

He swung her around once more; her feet lifted in a swirl of brilliant green hem-line to reveal her shapely calves encased in pale silken hose, her small feet clad in borrowed shoes made from the finest leather. With his arm locked around her waist, and hers around his shoulders, his devilish face was merely inches from her own. She laughed with the joy of the dance, the effervescent vibrancy that coursed through her veins, that made her feel alive. He smiled back, a dark lock of hair falling boyishly across his forehead, unable to resist the sweetness of her expression. Locked into each other’s glances, neither realised that the music had ceased.

A deathly hush fell.

Maud had risen to her feet, her face a mask of unbridled fury, her body shaking with anger. ‘How could you do this to me!’ She screeched down from the top table. Fury screwed up her mouth as she spat the words out, pointing in condemnation toward Talvas. The long, trailing end of her sleeve swept across the table in the wake of her savage gesture, knocking over a goblet of wine. The liquid spattered and soaked into the white linen tablecloth. A peasant woman tittered nervously into the silence, before hurriedly smothering the sound with one hand over her mouth.

Talvas set Emmeline on her feet, his movements controlled
and deliberate, one hand still in hers. He quirked one eyebrow in question toward the Empress, saying nothing, as if waiting for the Empress’s tirade to run its course.

‘You have betrayed me, you cur! You villainous beast!’ Maud flapped a single sheet of parchment at him, a gob of red sealing wax dragging at the bottom end. The young lad at her side appeared horrified by Maud’s reaction to the message he had delivered. He shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his face and cloak splattered with mud.

‘Mayhap you should tell me what I have done to offend you so, my lady,’ Talvas suggested in an unruffled tone. Despite his composed demeanour, the relaxed hold on her fingers, Emmeline sensed a winding spiral of tension mounting within him. The set of his shoulders straightened imperceptibly, his stance altered with a subtle movement—he prepared himself for a possible onslaught. An unbecoming puce colour flooded Maud’s face; she sat down abruptly as if her rage had robbed her of the power of speech. Earl Robert stepped forward.

‘Stephen was crowned King of England this morning,’ he explained, solemnly. A tiny sound, an expulsion of anger, emerged from Maud’s lips. ‘Your own brother-in-law, Talvas.’

‘I know who he is,’ Talvas replied, his tone level.

‘He has stolen the crown from me,’ Maud announced. ‘Robert sent this message to the Abbott at Sherborne, asking him to attend my coronation at Winchester, and this is the news we have back! I will not have it!’ She thumped the parchment that lay discarded on the table, like a spoilt child.

‘’Tis unfortunate, my lady,’ Talvas replied.

‘Unfortunate for you, my lord.’ The Empress rounded on him. ‘How did Stephen know that Henry was dead?’ A gasp rose amongst the assembled crowd as individuals turned to each other in astonishment. Of course, thought Emmeline, the King’s death had been kept a secret! The Empress continued.
‘How could Stephen have known?’ Her eyes narrowed to vicious slits. ‘Your only sister, Matilda, is married to Stephen. You must have sent a message, when I specifically stated that no one was to know! That throne is rightfully mine, and I intend to have it. But first I need to know who is on my side, and you, my lord Talvas, are most definitely a traitor. Guards, seize him!’

The command rang out across the room. No one moved. Incomprehension crossed Maud’s face; it was unusual for her orders not to be immediately followed.

‘My soldiers are loyal to me, my lady, and no one else,’ Talvas explained, his voice holding a rich seam of authority. ‘And you are mistaken in your wild assumption that I sent a message to Matilda. I do not, and never have, meddled in matters of the crown.’

‘Liar!’ Maud snarled, rudely. ‘I’ll have you run out of this castle, even if I have to do it myself.’

In two great strides, a blur of green and gold, Talvas reached the edge of the platform; in one powerful jump he stood over the Empress’s carved oak chair. He towered over her short, portly form; Maud had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

Mild irritation laced Talvas’s tone. ‘May I remind you, my lady, that this is my castle and these are my people. You have no authority in this place.’ A ripple of undisguised excitement flowed through the crowd. ‘With respect, I suggest that
you
leave, since it is you who has decided that I am your enemy.’

In the dark corner of the hall, something moved. Emmeline frowned. Was someone hiding there? She caught the gleam of a buckle, the vague outline of a shadowy form, and began to move forward instinctively, trying to discern the shape in the corner. Was Talvas in danger? His warning rang in her ears; Maud was strong-minded, but she was also sly, and would stop at nothing to rule England and Normandy.

Maud stood up, poking Talvas in the chest. ‘Listen to me. I will be Queen. And you will do as I say. I am content to use your castle for my own purpose; I will gather my forces here and march on Winchester at the earliest opportunity. That crown will be mine!’

‘Then you must fight me for it.’

The Empress slumped back in her chair once more, as if exhausted with the whole process and raised her right hand to her half-brother who stood on her other side. ‘Robert, deal with him.’

Talvas’s hand moved to the jewelled hilt of his sword as Robert stepped forward, holding both his hands up in a gesture of peace. At the same time, a great hulking oaf stepped out from the shadows.

Emmeline’s heart leapt into her mouth. Having moved silently over to the steps up to the dais, she spotted the threat first. ‘Talvas, watch your back!’ She yelled over to him, as the lout raised his mace. Talvas whipped his head round at the sound of her voice, momentarily disconcerted, then ducked. The mace hit the back of his skull with a glancing blow. His lean form pitched to the side, crumpled to the ground. Emmeline tried to reach him, but her way was blocked by Talvas’s attacker.

The hall was silent. Nobody moved.

‘What have you done?’ Emmeline whispered accusingly to Maud, pushing against two of the Queen’s soldiers who prevented her from mounting the dais.

‘Your concern for the man is touching, my dear—’ Maud’s eyes looked blank ‘—but I’d be careful about showing too much affection for such a traitor, or you might be joining him in the dungeon.’ Maud turned to her half-brother. ‘Have him carried below, Robert,’ She commanded, ‘and clear this ogling lot out of here. We have a country to win back.’

Emmeline paced the width of her chamber, the delicate embroidery edging the bottom of her linen chemise catching the light from the fire as she walked, and turned on the tip of her toes to tread the length of the room once more. In the confusion below—Talvas carried away senseless, the amassed crowd quickly dispersing lest they should be the Empress’s next victim—she had managed to slip away, praying that with their current concerns the Empress and the Earl would forget her very existence. But she needed to go! To leave this god-forsaken place!