Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 (22 page)

BOOK: Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01
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On his way to the knights’ quarters, he imagined what
Talan would have to say about the matter.
 
Holding his palms up in supplication, he stared heavenward with a
martyred expression.

 

* * * *

 

In good spirits, Talan cut through the passages on his
way to the barracks.
 
Stepping through
the archway of the common room, his face fell.
 
Seated alone at a table furthest from the door, Albin viewed his
approach with a look of dismay.
   

Sliding onto the bench across from him, he asked,
“What happened?”

Groaning, Albin gulped down the rest of his ale before
slamming the tankard down on the planked table.

“What happened, Albin?” he spoke a little more
forcefully.
 

Avoiding his accusing stare, Albin recited the sordid
tale.
 

After he finished, Talan’s eyes narrowed in rage.
 
“You let him live?” he asked so softly, it
took Albin a moment to comprehend the words.

Albin leaned forward, mindful of the fact they were
not alone.
 
“I have regretted the fact
these hours past.
 
Yet, all is not
lost.
 
I have formulated a plan which
would not only bring justice to Reynold, it would see us returning to Castell
Maen.”

Talan propped an elbow on the table. “I’m
listening.”
  

 

* * * *

 

Reina slept with her door barred, dressing herself in
the morning.
 
Catching sight of the
bruises on her arms and knees, she drew in a quivering breath.
 
Fearing Fulke would be provoked into
championing her, she was determined to make light of the incident.
 

When it was time to meet Talan, she stood before the
door, taking several deep breaths.
 
Pinning a bright smile on her face, she opened it.

Her resolve waivered the moment she saw Talan’s look
of concern.
 

“Are you well, my lady?”

“All is well, Talan. If Albin
told you, then you are aware no harm came from it.”
 

He waited for a group of nobles to pass, before
saying, “Albin left before lauds for Rochester, my lady.”

Her eyes flared in fear.
“To tell
Fulke what happened?”

“Rest easy, my lady.
 
Albin will ensure his lordship does nothing rash.”

Worry roiling her empty stomach, she asked,
“Did you at least enjoy yourself yester-eve?”

Extending his arm, he smiled.
 

 

* * * *

 

Albin came stomping into the Wounded Stag, half frozen
from the long journey. Dropping his saddlebag by the door,
 
he headed to the bar where Gervase, Guy,
Warin and Osbert were seated.
 
“Where is
Fulke?”

Surprised to see him, their greetings came to a
stuttering halt when they took in his agitated state.

“He stopped off at the glazier’s on the way back from
the tower,” Guy replied.

Gervase leaned forward. “Is all well with you, Albin?”

“Aye, all is well,” he absently replied.
 
Catching the tapster’s attention, he called
for a mug of ale.
  
 

A huge brown mastiff came bounding from the back of
the tavern to jump on him, nearly knocking him off balance.
 
Scratching the dog behind the ears, he said,
“Hey boy, where is your young master?”

Lecie came rushing from the kitchen. “Tugger, get down
this instant!”
 

Albin felt his smile falter as he took in the tavern
keep’s young wife. “No harm done, Lass,” he mumbled.

Managing to get the dog directed back the way he had
come, she straightened with a blush coloring her cheeks. “Hello, Sir Albin. His
lordship said you were in London with her ladyship, shall I be expecting her?”

Surprised Fulke would even mention him, he avoided
Lecie’s gaze. “Her ladyship remains in London with Sir Talan.”

“Shall you be staying long?” she asked hopefully.

His mind was playing tricks on him. “I remain as long
as his lordship.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she returned shyly.

Either he was losing it, or Lecie was flirting with
him. Making the mistake of glancing into her mesmerizing golden-brown eyes, he
sat for a moment dumbstruck.

There was no way he could misinterpret the longing in
her gaze. He was clearly losing it. “I do not see Edric about, is he unwell
again?”
 

“Aye, he is,” Lecie sighed. “I fear he grows more so
by the day.
 
The village leech said his
condition is incurable.
 
He does naught
but bleed him when he comes.”

“Blood-letting does naught for the ailment, lass. I
have it on sound authority it weakens the body all the more."

 
“I shall be
sure to remember that, ” Lecie said in parting.
   
      

He sat perplexed, even as he admired the gentle sway
of her hips as she walked.

Gervase joined him in admiring her.

Gathering a handful of kirtle to climb the steps, they
glimpsed a pair of slender calves. Clapping him on the back, Gervase quipped,
“I believe the fair Lecie to be besotted with you, Albin.”

“She is wife to Edric, dolt.”

“Aye,” Gervase replied. “Excepting, he is much older
than she.”

“He has three small children, Gervase. I believe he
sees to her needs just fine.”

Gervase leaned close. “The tavern wench Betta, said he
is gravely ill.
 
He is certain not to be
long for this world.”

Albin stared at him in surprise. “Is there nothing
sacred to you, Gervase?”

He looked hurt. “Of course there is.
 
All women are sacred to me.”

Exasperated, Albin asked, “Just how many bastards do
you claim, or are they too numerous to count?”

“There are none that I know of.” He leaned in to
whisper. “I plow my seed through the field, not in it.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you, lad,” Albin
breathed.

Gervase grinned. "Aye. The ladies love that about
me.”

Staring after him, Albin slowly shook his head.

FOURTEEN
 

Chilled to the bone from spending the day in the
freezing cold, Fulke tarried on his return to the tavern by stopping at the
glaziers to pick up a gift he had commissioned for Reina.
 

Not looking forward to another restless night, he
dismounted and froze when he recognized Albin’s horse in one of the tavern’s
stalls.
 
Thinking the worst, icy fingers
of fear stole his breath as he charged into the common room.

Albin stood with raised hands before he could speak.
“Your lady is well.”

Fulke felt the knot in his stomach unclench as he
slowed his pace. His racing heart would take longer to slow. “What brings you
from her side, Albin?”

“It is best said in private.”

“Follow me.” With a worried frown, Fulke led the way
up the steps.
 
He allowed Albin to
precede him before closing the door to his chamber. “Tell me.”

“I need you to hear me out on this to the end, Fulke,”
Albin said, sinking down into a chair.
 
“Some of the things I have to say will not be pleasant to hear.”

Fulke set the parcel aside before perching on the edge
of the bed. “Have your say, my friend.”

Albin began to outline a plan that would free Reina
from the king’s clutches. Halfway through the story, Fulke stood to pace by the
fire.
 
By the time Albin concluded, he
was so unnerved, he was raking his hands through his hair.

“Henry has outlined the necessity for using Reina to
prevent all out war with France.”

“You know as well as I the lady can prevent no such
thing,” Albin scoffed.
 
“All she has
learned thus far amounts to no more than innuendo and gossip.
 
Nothing will change once the emissaries from
France arrive.”

“He threatened me with the charge of treason were I to
even think of challenging him on this matter.
 
If we do this, it will put us all in peril.”

“I say put it to the men. The decision is theirs to
make.
 
Talan and I are both willing to do
whatever it takes.”
 

“I do not understand what has come over you,
Albin.
 
You are asking me to break vows I
live by in order to make my life easier.”

“No Fulke,” Albin said softly.
 
“I am asking you to break yours vows in order
to save your lady.”

“You said Reina was safe,” he accused. “What has Henry
done to make you believe otherwise?”
  

Albin sighed.
 
“I was hoping I would not have to be the one to tell you.” Going into
detail of Reynold’s assault in the passage, he left nothing out.
   

Before he finished, Fulke stood with hands fisted,
trembling with suppressed rage. Clenching his teeth, he ground out,
 
“You give me your word he did not cause her
harm?”

“Not in the way you are thinking, Fulke,” Albin said
reassuringly. “She was bruised and understandably distraught, but otherwise
unharmed.”

“Summon…the…men, ” he forced the words out.

Moments later, crowding into the small chamber, the
men waited for Fulke to speak.

He glanced at each in turn, still struggling to
control his rage. “Albin is going to lay out a plan for your consideration,
after which, you will have a decision to make.
 
If you join us and we fail, you will most assuredly face the charge of
treason.
 
If you choose not to join us, I
release you from my service with no hard feelings.
 
Either way, the choice is yours.”

He paused on his way out. “I look at each one of you
as my brother.
 
Know that nothing will
ever change that fact.”

Returning to the tavern, Fulke sank into a seat by the
fire.
 
Ignoring the crowd of peasants
relaxing after a hard day of toil, he waged an internal battle with his fury.
If he did not fear what the repercussions would do to Reina, he would already
be on his way to kill Reynold.

As the men filed back down the steps, he felt relieved
the decision was no longer his to make.

He stood to face them as they solemnly lined up before
him. To a man, they each placed a fist over their heart.

Swallowing hard at their loyalty, Fulke gave a nod of
acknowledgement.
 
He would get Reina
back, or die trying.
 

Albin stepped forward.
 
“Gervase is prepared to leave at lauds, my liege.” He smirked. “I vow
there is no better man among us to carry out such a delicate mission.”

Gervase flushed red as the rest of the men laughed,
breaking the solemn atmosphere. Heading for the bar, Fulke blocked
Gervase.
 
“Spare me a word in private,
lad?”

“Of course, my liege.” Winding through the tables,
Fulke led him up the steps.

Closing the door to his chamber, Gervase spoke up, “I
shall not disappoint you my liege.”

Fulke held up a hand. “Be at ease lad, I know there is
no man better for this task. I merely wanted to see if you would deliver
something to your lady for me.” Handing him the wrapped bundle, he paused a
moment. “Tell her I hope to give her the real thing, come spring.”

“I shall guard it, and your words well, my liege.”

He was stepping through the door, when Fulke called,
“Gervase?

“Aye, my liege?”

“Guard yourself as well, lad.”

“Aye, my liege,” he replied solemnly.

 

* * * *

 

Ascending the narrow steps to speak to Fulke, Albin
ran into Lecie, descending.
 
Brushing up
against the front of her, he instinctively pulled her to him.
  

Surprised, her eyes scanned his face, waiting.

His eyes moved to her lips as she parted them in her
nervousness. Before he knew what he was doing, he lowered his head only to jerk
away when loud wracking coughs came from an upper chamber.
 

“Forgive me lass,” Albin called, bounding the rest of
the way up the steps.

Passing Gervase outside Fulke’s chamber, Albin brushed
past him.

Fulke looked up in surprise from doffing his boots as
he rushed in, closing the door behind him. “What is it Albin?
 
Something amiss with the plan?”

He stared at Fulke, speechless. He had just come close
to seducing the wife of a dying man.
 
Seeing Fulke’s look of concern, he weakly replied, “All is well.”
Crossing to the fire, he stood staring into the flames.

Fulke spoke to his back. “Truth be told, you have done
your own fair share of listening over the years. If something is troubling you,
perhaps I can help. What say you to a few ales in the tavern?”

Spinning around, he asked, “In the tavern?
 
Ah, I think I will stay here while my room is
readied.”

“Albin, what in the devil is wrong with you?” Fulke
demanded.

Pulling at the collar of his tunic, he crossed to the
door. “It is stifling in here. I need some fresh air.” Cracking the door, he
peered into the passage before stepping out.

 

* * * *

 

Reina was sitting beside the king when there was a
commotion by the doors. The crowd parted as the Empress Matilda swept into the
room with her entourage of ladies.

Stalking towards them, she glared down her nose at the
gathered nobles. “All of you out, now,” she snapped.

Reina sat frozen, unsure of what to do. About to rise,
the king held up a hand to stay her.

Halting before them, Matilda directed a scathing
glance at Reina, before addressing her father. “I will not accept that arrogant
child you would have me wed.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The choice is not
yours to make, daughter. I find myself forced to mollycoddle the barons on your
behalf. There is no need to remind you it is not something I do willingly.”

Sharing her father’s temper, Matilda refused to back
down. “Both English and Norman houses despise him. What use is the pompous fool
to my ambitions?”

“Your very question answers you, daughter. Your
ignorance proves those opposed to your ascension, correct.” He leaned forward.
“Would you have me name Stephen heir in your stead? Even as we speak, he is
courting the barons’ favor to place himself before you.”

“Stephen would not dare oppose me,” she fumed.

“Your pride will be your downfall, Matilda.”
 

“I am no more proud than that sniveling churl you
would have me wed.”

“Enough!” Henry shouted. “I grow weary of your
incessant screeching.”

“You have never loved me,” she accused.

“What I know of you, I do not even like,” Henry coldly
replied.

Pursing her lips, she whirled around.
 
Bumping into one of her ladies, she viciously
slapped her. “Get thee gone from my sight, dim-wit.”
  

His lips pressed into a tight line, Henry stared after
her. Running a hand down the length of his beard, he appeared older than his
years.
 

Settling back in his chair, he caught Reina’s
sympathetic gaze. “Hold no kindness in your heart for me, your ladyship, I am
well deserving of the trouble I now find myself in.”

With an imperious wave of the hand, the doors were
once again opened. Skimming through the returning crowd, Reina paused on a
group of young noblewomen discussing the recently arrived, Sir Gervase.

She fidgeted anxiously for the king to release her,
hoping Gervase carried word from Fulke. After what seemed like an eternity of
muddling through the business of the kingdom, he tipped his head in her
direction.
  

With a quick curtsey, she hurried through the hall,
only slowing when she encountered Reynold standing between her and the exit,
conversing with a group of men. Her heart racing, she glanced back the way she
had come, pondering another means of departure.
 

King’s Henry’s curious gaze from the dais settled it
for her. She felt an unfamiliar surge of anger take hold of her as she squared
her shoulders. Imagining Fulke walking beside her, she bravely approached the
doors as Reynold interrupted his conversation to leer at her.
 
Staring pointedly at his blackened eyes, she
glared her loathing before stepping into the passage.
 

From his place beside Talan, Gervase stepped forward
to greet her. “It is a pleasure to see you looking so well, my lady.”

Emboldened by her show of courage, she beamed her
response, accepting his proffered arm.

Ladies hoping to speak with the handsome knight,
glowered at her in envy. Seeing Talan scowl at the women, she linked her free
arm through his, pulling him along.
 

Reaching the privacy of her chamber, she whirled to
him.
“Does Gervase bring word from Fulke?”

Talan relayed her question, before Gervase turned to
her with a gallant smile. Sweeping the package from under his arm, he presented
it to her. “My liege said to tell you he has hopes of giving you the real
thing, come the spring, my lady.”

Taking the package, she turned to Talan.
“Would you both please excuse me?”

Gervase wrapped an arm around Talan's shoulders. “We
shall be catching up on old times in the barracks should you have need of us,
my lady.”

“Oh, joy,” Talan muttered. “I shall return for you
before supper, my lady.”

Alone, Reina climbed into the window-niche with her gift
from Fulke.
 
Untying the twine, she
withdrew a beautifully detailed stained glass.
 
In the air above a bright blue stream bordered by wildflowers, two black
and gold butterflies frolicked on currents of air.

The scene looked so real, she imagined the warm breeze
caressing her face. Lightly running her fingertips over the scene of spring
renewal, it finally occurred to her why she had been feeling so out of sorts.
For some time, the signs had been there, yet she had been under too much stress
to see them.

BOOK: Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01
8.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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