The Legend (4 page)

"My sister, Lady
Peyton," Ivy said lamely, glancing at her sibling as she regained her
feet.

Brian's brown eyes focused on
Peyton and she felt her courage wan.
Be brave!
She scolded herself
strongly.
You must continue what you started!

In a show of both forced and
foolish boldness, she put her arm companionably around Ivy's shoulders and
smiled her gaping smile. "'Tis a pleasure, my lord," she said gaily.
"Do not mind Ivy and me; we do this habitually. Always room for another
bruise, I always say, especially from my own sister. How do you think I lost
all of these teeth?" She pointed to her sniggled smile.

Ivy looked at her in shock,
faltering a moment before following her sister's lead. She had been fully
prepared to beg forgiveness from the baron but reconsidered when she saw that
Peyton was willing to continue the charade. Weakly, she smiled in agreement.

"Beauties, are they not, my
lord?" Jubil smiled brightly from her perch on the wagon. "Fine, fine
breeding stock for the nobility of England."

Brian ignored Jubil, eyeing both
sisters critically. He did not dare look at Alec; standing directly in front of
Lady Peyton, he could only imagine his son's reaction. Looking into the gray
faces and craggle-toothed grins, he was sure they were all having the same
horrified responses. And he found he was extremely disappointed to discover
that the de Fluornoy sisters were hags, for it would make finding them husbands
close to impossible.

He would not dream of saddling
Alec with the eldest, no matter how wealthy she was. It would seem that the
grand party had been unnecessary to inspect the prospective brides; the
determination was already made.

He could scarce believe the
ugliness before him. "Good Christ," he muttered before he could stop
himself. Clearing his throat, he spoke louder. "You may act as you choose
at St. Cloven. However, I expect refined conduct at my home. Rolling in the
dirt as common villiens is unacceptable."

Peyton looked at him as if she
hadn't understood a word he said while Ivy picked her nose, much to the
disbelief of the Summerlin men. "We.... we are unacceptable, my
lord?" Peyton queried with feigned distress. "How so?"

Brian watched as Ivy looked at
her fingers, sniffed them, and then wiped them on her gown. Clearing his throat
again to cover his disgust, he stepped back. "We will not tolerate ruffian
behavior, ladies. Regain your trunks and return to St. Cloven this day."

With a final, mayhap disappointed
glance, Brian returned to the castle. Peyton and Ivy watched him disappear into
the innards of Blackstone, thrilled with their fortune. They fought down their
glee and immediately turned to their servants, ordering any offloaded baggage
to be retrieved. Ignoring the astonished Summerlin men that were still standing
about, Peyton motioned to St. Cloven soldiers.

"Remove the ale," she instructed.
"Tell the steward it is a gift from the de Fluornoy sisters."

In a brief few moments, Peyton
and Ivy had forgotten about their successful masquerade in anticipation of
returning home without a betrothal. The sooner they unload the ale and retrieve
their things, the sooner they would return to St. Cloven.

Alec and Ali stood together
several feet away, watching the two women curiously. Brian had not made any
mention of a betrothal to Ali, but Alec had taken upon himself to inform his
friend and the two of them studied the de Fluornoy sisters with a strange
mixture of emotions.

"Christ, Ali, have you ever
seen anything so horrible in your life?" Alec mumbled.

Ali raised his faceplate, his
black eyes focused on the red and blond heads. "Which one was supposed to
be for you?"

"Lady Patton. The redhead, I
believe. Her hair is acceptable enough if she were to wash it, but her face...."
he shook his head, unable to continue and thanking God that he had not agreed
to a betrothal before he had lain eyes on his potential wife. In a sense he was
disappointed but, as he watched them leave, he was mostly relieved.

Ali watched Ivy as she helped a
soldier with a barrel of ale. "I think the blond could probably take me on
in a fist fight and win," he snorted with the mental picture of a wife who
could best him in a duel. "'Twould not be pleasant to be married to a
woman I was afraid of."

Alec laughed softly.
"Agreed. I am afraid to continue gazing at them lest I turn to
stone." With a final glance, Alec turned for the castle. "See that
they leave promptly. I want them well away so we can enjoy the party without
bitter flashbacks of the witch sisters."

It took very little time to
reload the wagon with their baggage once the barrels of ale were offloaded.
Peyton was thrilled that their deception had worked so well and was eager to
return to the keep. 

She was positive that Lord Brian
would not force them into betrothals and she felt a giddy sense of freedom.
Although she was disappointed that she would not be attending the party that
night, for they rarely attended such gaiety, her feelings were quelled by the
fact that she and her sister would not be coerced into marriages against their
will. After their display of bad manners and even worse hygiene, Lord Brian
would undoubtedly forget about the distasteful de Fluornoy women.

An escort of Summerlin soldiers
was waiting for them as they exited the gates, guiding them from the compound
to the road beyond. The march was silent and she could feel the critical stares
of the Summerlin men as they rode in uncomfortable quiet. Almost two miles out,
the Summerlin guard turned back for the fortress, leaving the St. Cloven party
to continue alone. Another three hours would see them home and Peyton relaxed.

"I thought they would never
leave," she exclaimed as she reined her horse to a halt

Dismounted her palfrey, she went
to the wagon and dug into one of the smaller satchels bearing linens.
Immediately, she began to rub the black off her teeth. Ivy joined her and
together they cleaned their teeth and laughed at their cleverness. Jubil
dismounted her nag and brought forth her considerable case of medicines.
Rummaging about, she drew out an alabaster jar of ointment and smeared it on
Ivy's face.

"Jubil!" Ivy sputtered
as her aunt rubbed on the paste. "What are you doing?"

"This will take the powder
and charcoal off your skin easily," she said, taking the linen her niece
held and wiping at her cheek. "'Tis a mixture of calendula and chamomile
in lard base. I also have a mud and honey mask that will thoroughly cleanse
your skin."

"Let's get this powder off
and return home," Peyton put her fingers into the cleansing cream.
"Then we will submit to your mud and honey mask."

The scrubbing and rubbing went on
for the better part of an hour until both girls were fresh-scoured and bright
as gold. Peyton brushed the leaves and dirt out of her hair before securing it
at the nape of her neck with a pretty ribbon. Feeling infinitely cleaner and
light of mood, she demanded her sister make haste and finish her toilette so
that they could make it home by nightfall. Ivy stuck her tongue out at her
sister as Jubil combed at a particularly nasty snarl in her blond hair.

Peyton laughed at her sister's
discomfort, taking the time to glance about the Cambridgeshire countryside and
breathing in the freshness of summer. The scent of indigenous blossoms filled
the air; wild jasmine, foxgloves and hemlock lined the road. Mustard was
abundant as well as wild primroses. Yellow wild dill grew in great clusters and
Peyton turned her eyes upward to the cotton-puff clouds that skirted across the
blue sky. Aye, it had turned into a fine day.

"I could scarce believe when
Lord Brian told us to return home," she remarked to Ivy.

Ivy laughed, running her fingers
through her newly-silken blond hair. "Did you see the expression on his
face when I picked at my nose? I almost burst into hysterics."

Peyton laughed again. "It
was worth all of the embarrassment to see his reaction. We are fine actresses,
darling."

Ivy nodded in agreement and moved
for her leggy horse. Jubil, meanwhile, was still fussing with her medicines.

"I must know if there will
be any retribution," Jubil was mumbling. "Lord Brian may see fit to
punish us for our behavior. Or he might see to kill us all together and annex
St. Cloven."

"There will be no
reparation, Jubil," Peyton said calmly. "He shall simply forget about
his appalling vassals."

But Jubil busied herself with her
medicaments while the party waited impatiently. "Did you see Alec? He is
grown since the last I saw him."

"Who is Alec?" Peyton
asked.

"Why, Alec Summerlin, of
course," Jubil exclaimed, holding a vial aloft as she inspected the
contents. "The Legend himself."

Peyton and Ivy glanced at each
other. "What are you talking about, Jubil?" Peyton asked with growing
annoyance.

Jubil apparently found what she
was looking for and set to stirring the mixture into a small pewter bowl.
"King Edward labeled Alec Summerlin ‘The Legend’ because of his skill with
a broadsword,” she said as she stirred. “He saw action in the Seventh Crusade
with his father and then-Prince Edward. But he returned from Jerusalem
prematurely and it is said he has not wielded a sword since, although I have
not heard why. 'Twas said the man could cut an enemy in two with one clean stroke."

"And just where did you hear
that wild tale?" Peyton lifted an eyebrow.

"Out collecting," Jubil
informed her. "I have met up with villiens and squatters who've told tale
of The Legend. He would have been the greatest warrior England had ever seen
had he not surrendered his arms."

Her aunt called it 'collecting';
gathering ingredients for her witches brews and potions. Henbane, periwinkle,
foxgloves and ground ivy for a variety of medicinal and clairvoyant needs.
Thorn apples, nightshade, monkshood, white water lily and hemlock for magical
purposes. Jubil also kept a garden in which she grew verrain, an herb, and
ryegrass for the purpose of medicinal ergot, a fungus which grew on the grass.

Jubil glanced at her eldest niece
as she prepared her potion. "He was standing 'fore you, Peyton. He is the
one who pulled you out from underneath the wagon. Did you not see him?"

Peyton thought a moment, and then
shrugged. "The sun was in my eyes, but I saw his legs.... I think. I saw
legs as big around as my entire body."

"That was him," Jubil
nodded confidently. "A big brute, he is."

Peyton snorted. "Big,
indeed. He must be a monster."

"But did you look at his
face, Peyton?" Jubil looked up from her implements insistently. "He
is a beautiful man indeed. Beautiful!"

Peyton and Ivy looked at each
other, smiling at Jubil's declaration. Peyton leaned forward on the pommel of
her saddle, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "My, my, Jubil. He warms
your blood, does he not?"

Jubil snorted, shaking her faded
blond head. "No man warms my blood or my body, little goats."

Peyton and Ivy laughed heartily
at Jubil's expense, but their aunt ignored them as she finished merging her
potion. Satisfied she had the proper parts and elements, the ladies watched
with fading mirth as Jubil downed the contents in a pewter cup.

"There!" Jubil smacked
her lips and put away her things. "By tonight we will know what the future
holds."

Ivy shook her head. "More
visions."

Peyton gathered the reins on her
palfrey, her attention turning for home and eager to make haste before Jubil
veered out of control.

***

Alec had forgotten about the de
Fluornoy horror and was engrossed in conversation with Lord Whittlesee and his
son Arthur. Blackstone was full of friends and allies that Alec hadn't seen in
quite some time and he was becoming swept up with the festive atmosphere,
completely disregarding the original purpose of the party.

It had been meant for him to meet
and approve of his future wife; instead, the pressure was off of him and he
could look forward to the celebration with relief. Ali, too, seemed much more
congenial knowing he would not have to accept a wife this night.

Ali was in charge of the arriving
company while Alec was overseeing the guests that had already situated
themselves and were wandering the halls of Blackstone waiting for the
celebration to begin. Alec had been corralled inside the castle since before
dawn, the only exception being when he had gone outside to break up the tussle
between the de Fluornoy sisters, and he was frankly eager to catch a breath of
fresh air before delving into the social presentation of the evening's
festivities.

Alec liked social events,
providing he was not required to attend more than twice a year, but he was hard
pressed to keep conversations going and act the perfect host. His nature was
far more reserved, bordering on shy, and twice his mother had shot him
reproving glances from across the room when he appeared to be neglecting his
duties.

Excusing himself from Lord
Whittlesee and his mother's piercing gaze, he made his way out to the manicured
bailey and drew in a deep breath of July. Dressed in fine black breeches, black
leather boots and a tastefully embroidered brilliant blue tunic, he resisted
the urge to rip off his fancy clothing as he entered the familiar courtyard.
Silks and satins were not his taste in dress, simply his mother's command
during this social event. He felt like a court dandy.