Warrior's Deception (19 page)

“Not as she said?” Lenora accused. “Do not make your crime greater by lying. You took me in the woods so that I had
to marry you and you would thereby gain Woodshadow. Can you stand before me and deny it?”

“Nay, that I do not deny, nor do I apologize for. You needed to wed to be protected.”

“Protected from what, from whom?”

“I do not know.”

Her sarcastic laugh bounced around the empty room. “So you shame me to protect me from an unknown danger. I can name it, ‘tis you.”

Roen reached out and grabbed her wrist. She tried to twist from his grasp. He held it firmly but not painfully. When she stopped her struggles, he turned her hand over and stared at her palm. With the finger of his free hand he traced her life line. “What she said about Beatrice, ‘tis not true.”

“Then let her accompany her mother to Bridgeton.” “I can’t.”

“You won’t.” She tore her hand from the shackle of his grip. “You’ve taken my virtue, my father and my home from me. I beg you, spare my cousin this shame you have planned. Let her leave.”

“Nay, I cannot, Nora.”

“Then may God curse you for this crime you commit.” Tears no longer in check, she ran out the door and down the steps of the castle.

Roen once received a blow that would have killed another man. The icy breath of death had blown against his soul with excruciating pain. Yet that pain paled against the hurt he felt now while he watched Lenora retreat from his touch and presence.

She didn’t understand why he must keep Beatrice here. If Matilda was the traitor, Beatrice served as hostage. A safeguard against any more attempts to control the keep through Lenora’s death. In the depth of his soul, he knew the real reason he would not let the girl leave, he wanted to prove Matilda wrong. If he sent Beatrice away, his wife would always wonder if the stinging words were true. Only by keeping her cousin here could he show Lenora he did not desire the timid beauty. That, in truth, the only woman he wanted could not stand the sight of him.

“W
e ‘re going for a ride.” Roen pushed Hamlin’s feet from the table edge, nearly sending the knight crashing to the floor.

The servants retreated quickly, and Hamlin wished he could do the same. Roen’s attitude had deteriorated from rude to mean in the last few weeks since Sir Edmund’s disappearance. A ride in the woods with Roen, in his black temper, would not be restful.

“Are you coming?”

A self-sacrificing sigh passed Hamlin’s lips. “Do I have a choice?”

Roen did not respond, but strode out of the hall. On the step of the forebuilding he paused and surveyed the keep. The crops grew green in the fields, the cattle and sheep grazed contentedly. His villeins labored at their work.

“Who are you looking for?” Hamlin needled.

“No one. I want to make sure none of my people are shirking their duties.”

“Ah.” Hamlin nodded and started down the stairs. Roen continued to scrutinize the inner bailey. “I thought perhaps you were looking for your wife. But I see I was mistaken. If you were, I could inform you of her whereabouts. But since you aren’t….”

Roen closed the gap between him and his friend with two strides. “How is she? The few times I’ve seen her, she looks pale, sad.”

“How would you know how she looks?” Hamlin replied at the entrance to the stable. “You’ve been absent from every meal, away most of the day. She is pale. She is sad. By the
heavens, the girl has lost her father. Your wife feels alone and deserted. Most of all, I think she feels betrayed, by you.”

Roen remained silent, his jaw clenched. He stepped into the barn and grabbed his saddle.

Hamlin finished his tack and waited while his friend rechecked his horse’s girth. They led the animals out to a groom who held them while they mounted. The smell of the mares sent Destrier into a nervous prance. Roen worked to keep his horse under control.

“Seems your horse has better sense than you do,” Hamlin quipped. “He’d rather stay here than go traipsing off into the woods.”

The dark scowl across his commander’s face silenced Hamlin’s banter. The ride would be sullen enough without adding to his comrade’s bad mood. Outside the bailey walls, they broke into a hard canter. Roen kneed his mount into a full gallop. Hamlin ate dust until the forest caused Roen to slow Destrier’s gait down to a fast walk.

The cool shade of the trees provided a welcome respite from summer heat. The green canopy of leaves allowed only scattered beams of sunlight to pierce the perpetual darkness of its interior. An accumulation of dead leaves and pine straw cushioned the hooves of the horses and muffled their sound. The men rode silently, each deep in his own thoughts.

At midday, Roen pulled up near a stream. He dismounted and loosened his animal’s girth to allow Destrier to graze. Hamlin followed his friend’s lead. Before releasing his mount, he pulled a loaf of dark bread from a bag tied on his saddle.

He broke the slightly stale loaf in two and tossed part to Roen. Hamlin munched on his repast and slaked his thirst from the spring-fed water of the stream.

Roen brushed away the crumbs from his tunic. “I have been checking on her, you know.”

Hamlin gave him a questioning look. “What?”

“Nora.” Roen threw the last bit of bread to a couple of mourning doves pecking at the forest floor. “After she retires, I go into our room. I stay until morning and leave before she wakes.”

“Roen, why not go to her? Talk with her?”

“And say what? I’m guilty, I let her father die?”

“How about, ‘I’m sorry’?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? I sent her expensive brocades and jewelry. She sent it all back.”

“Roen, tell her.” Hamlin spoke like a frustrated parent. “Speak the words.”

The blond knight stood and broke a twig from the overhead tree. “Hamlin, I don’t know the words. I don’t know what she’s feeling. I never had a father, at least one that would claim me.”

Hamlin gripped his friend’s shoulder. Sympathy showed in his eyes. “Then tell her that much at least. If you’re going to be cruel, at least tell her why.” He released Roen and moved into the brush for some privacy.

Roen cursed under his breath at the truth in Hamlin’s words. His childhood had not been nurturing or loving. His mother had emotionally separated him from the man whose name he bore, and from everyone else, as well.

“Roen, come here, quick.”

Pulled from his melancholy, Roen grabbed his sword and ran toward Hamlin’s voice. He found him crouched on the ground near a fallen tree.

“Look at this.”

He resheathed his sword and drew near. The skeleton of a large animal lay at Hamlin’s feet. A weathered leather collar with metal studs encircled the neck.

“The poor beast was staked out to die.” Hamlin lifted a heavy chain attached from the collar to a stake near the tree. “I wonder who would do something like that to an animal? Better to strike it down with an arrow than to let it starve to death.”

Pins of suspicion pricked Roen’s mind. He pushed Hamlin out of the way and lifted the collar. The skeleton broke apart and clattered to the ground. The rain-worn leather felt stiff. He worked the rusted buckle several times before it released. Roen held the leather strip open and his heart sank. Inside, scratched in childish letters, was Lenora’s name.

Snippets of his conversation with Tom returned. The remains of his wife’s favorite hound lay at his feet. “So, Gladymer, the traitor got you, too.” Roen squeezed the collar tightly. Anger stoked the fires of vengeance in his heart. The man responsible for this would pay with his life.

“Roen? How is it you know the name of this unfortunate animal?”

He opened the collar and pointed out Lenora’s scrawl. “‘Tis her animal, no doubt. By Tom’s description of the hound, ‘twould not be easily led off.”

“Unless whoever took it was well-known to the animal.” Hamlin finished the thought. “’Tis as you said. Whoever planned this lives in the castle. It must be Matilda. She’s hired a man to do her work for her.”

“Aye. Even with her gone, the man may still remain. We must find him.”

“Roen, Lenora is safe now that she is wed to you.”

“But not avenged. And they will pay for the pain they have caused her.” Roen slipped the leather collar into his pocket and headed back for his horse.

Lenora stiffened her back and climbed the steps from the kitchen to the main hall. She readjusted the heavy wooden bowl on her hip and pushed the door open. The servants looked up, then away quickly. Her proud stance weakened a small amount. Woodshadow resounded with the noise of a tomb. No one talked above a whisper, and when she appeared, conversation stopped. The groups of people scattered without making eye contact, whispering behind her back.

It galled her to think Roen had tried to cover up his crime of rape. Her pantalets, with the virgin stain, dispelled the belief in Roen’s offense. Now, her people eyed her with caution and unvoiced questions.

She slammed the bowl onto the table, and the assorted fresh greens spewed out. “Ow!” A dirty blond head peeked from beneath the table linen. “Have care there, Lady Lenora.”

“Tyrus. Catching a nap, I see.” Lenora laughed. It felt good to have an unstilted conversation with someone.

He put his finger to his lips. “Sh. Alyse will be up from the kitchen with that spoon of hers if’n she knows I’m ‘ere. I’m a growin’ boy. I needs my rest, ye know.”

She sat back on her heels to be at eye level with him. Merriment danced in the boy’s eyes, despite his serious composure. “With the amount of rest you take, you should be nigh as tall as the castle’s drawbridge gate by now,” Lenora noted.

Tyrus took on an affronted look. “’Ere now, Lady, I was up all night a-lookin’ after your mare and colt.”

“Is something wrong with Silver?” Lenora demanded.

“Nay, not that I could see. But milord, he give me orders and a gold piece to sleep out in the barn with them every night since the mare gave birth.”

“Roen did that?” Lenora wondered out loud. “Whatever for?”

Tyrus shrugged, reached his grubby hand up and rummaged a carrot from the table. He chewed the end of the unwashed vegetable. “Don’t know, Lady Lenora. He just says to tell ‘im if’n they act funny. I’m to remember who feeds and waters ‘em and I report it to ‘im every day.”

Worry roiled in her gut. Why would Roen care about her horses? Why hadn’t he spoken to her about it? Every night she retired alone and each night she dreamed her husband came to her, whispered soft words, held her in his arms. The rising sun burned away her dreams like a winter frost. She would look about her large, empty bed and feel the depth of her loneliness.

“Don’t be frettin’ none, Lady.” Tyrus paused in his chomping. “The animals are fine.”

She replaced the table linen across his head and smiled. “I think I’ll pay them a visit all the same. Thank you for being so diligent in your duties.” Standing, lenora grabbed a couple of carrots as a treat for her animals and headed for the barn.

The noonday sun blazed and caused her to squint when she exited the shadows of the castle. The heat felt good on her face and arms. In the weeks since her father’s memorial and Roen’s betrayal, the spring had merged with the early days of summer. The leafy limbs of the ancient oak near the stable beckoned to her like a Druid priestess. Lenora ran to its comforting shade and live smell.

“I told you it weren’t the right thing to do,” Tom’s voice scolded.

A deep voice murmured back, “Give it time.”

Lenora leaned around the trunk and spotted Tom. Another man, his back to her, stabbed the ground with a polished cane. Curious, she drew closer. The man with the stablekeeper looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“Tom?” She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the stranger. He quickly pulled his cap down low over his face and slipped into the stable.

“’Ere now, what are ye doin’ down ‘ere?” Tom blocked her way into the barn.

“I’ve come to check on Silver and the colt. Who was that?”

“Who was what?” Tom’s eyes grew large with confusion. “Oh, ‘im? That bent-up old man that was just ‘ere?” A snort sounded from the barn. “Ain’t nobody to worry yourself over. ‘E’s me cousin, Cervin.” A look of relief passed over the old groom’s wrinkled face. “Took a turn to liviin’ in the city and found ‘e didn’t like it. A freeman, mind you, like meself. Seein’ how I’m so close to the lord and lady ‘ere, ‘e thought ‘twould be an easy fit for ‘im.”

“Oh.” Lenora tried to look past the elder man’s shoulder into the interior of the barn. Tom swayed to block her view. “Does he intend to work with you in the stable or does he have another trade?”

Tom scratched his head. “Well, I reckon he could do that.”

“’Tis a carpenter I am, Lady Lenora,” a hoarse voice called from the barn. Tom shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Well then, carpenter, come out so that I can meet you.” Lenora waited impatiently. The man’s voice and carriage were vaguely familiar. She wanted to place the face.

“Well, now there’s the jinx of it. See, me cousin is, well—” Tom’s voice grew hushed “—’e’s ugly. Plain ol’ ugly. Scars all over ‘is face from the pox. No eyelashes or eyebrows. Terrible sight. ‘Tis what’s sent ‘im from the city. People shyin’ away from ‘im and callin’ ‘im names and all.” Tom drew her away from the stable. “’E don’t like people a-lookin’ at ‘im. Give ‘im time and ‘e’ll start to show ‘imself.”

Lenora nodded sagely. “I understand. But his voice… Outside the barn I had a feeling I had heard it before.”

“Oh. Nay.” The stablekeeper shook his head from side to side. “’Twas the fever that changed it. It comes and goes. Mostly ‘tis gone.” Tom’s voice rose in volume. “He don’t do much talkin’ anymore.”

Her heart went out to Cervin and his troubles. “Tell your cousin he’s welcome as long as he works his fair share. I’ll tell Sir Hamlin he’s here.”

“What about the Lord Roen? Shouldn’t he know?” Tom’s cousin asked from the shadows of the barn.

“Sir Hamlin will tell him, no doubt. He’s more likely to see and speak to Lord Roen than I am.” She turned to Tom. “I intend to check on my horses. If your cousin does not wish to be seen, I suggest he find another refuge.”

Tom gamboled into the stable and reappeared moments later. “’Ere ye go, Lady Lenora. ‘E’s gone now.”

Lenora could not contain her worry. She ran into the stall, causing the mare to shy. Contrite, Lenora began a thorough examination of the two horses. Nothing looked out of place. “Tom, I don’t understand why Roen wants Tyrus to sit up with them every night. I don’t see anything wrong with them.”

No answer came. He must be off with Cervin. She plumped up a pile of fresh hay in front of the stall and sat. After the animals finished their oats, she would look them over once more.

Roen and Hamlin rode into the bailey eyeing every man they met. Each searched for the possible hired hand of Matilda. The footmen gave cursory salutes, their eyes showing their distrust. Matilda had planted a seed of discontent among the men. He would not find his culprit now.

He and Hamlin dismounted. A snap of his fingers brought a lad to take their horses. “Rub them down good, then put them in the pasture to graze.” Roen ordered. The boy nodded vigorously and took off at a slow run with the two animals.

“I’m wagering the man’s still here. Matilda will want a spy,” Hamlin noted.

“I think so, too.” Roen motioned Hamlin to join him in a slow walk toward the fish pond. “It could be any one of them. I could question every man here, but I doubt they would tell me anything. I’m not a popular person right now.”

Hamlin snorted his agreement. They neared the pond and spotted a man clutching a coarse sack, kneeling near the water. He grabbed a large stone and dropped it into the bag. The serf nodded to his lord reverently and stepped away from the knights’ path.

“Beg pardon, milord.” The bag jerked back and forth in the man’s hand. An angry yelp sounded from it.

“What’s that you have?” Roen questioned.

“I’m the kennel master. This ‘ere’s a runt. He won’t make it for long with the bigger pups pushin’ ‘im away. I plan to drown ‘im. Better a quick death than starvin’.”