Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02 (7 page)

“Sir Talan is a friend of my brother Leofrick’s, my lord justice.”

“I see.” With narrowed eyes, he finally acknowledged Lecie’s presence. “And who might you be?”

Calmly meeting the arrogant man’s gaze, Lecie’s mouth felt dry. “I am Lecie, my lord justice. My father owns the local inn.”

“You have very unusual eyes, almost golden.” Without breaking his intense stare, he called his clerk forward. “What say you about this woman’s eyes, Roger?”

Lecie shared a startled glance with Mylla before meeting the clerk’s appraising gaze.

“The witch drowned by your command last winter boasted eyes like this woman’s, my lord justice.”

“I thought as much myself.” Justice de Glanville’s smile was chilling as he reached out to grip Lecie’s chin with soft pudgy fingers. “What was your mother’s given name?”

“Elena, my lord justice,” Lecie managed in a trembling voice. “We lost her in childbirth several years past.” 

“In that case, perhaps the witch was a distant kin of yours.” Dropping his hand, he refocused his attention on Mylla. “I am passing through on orders from the king and cannot tarry overlong. It is fortuitous that I ran into you as I have only time to pass a message on to your father.”

“What would that message be, my lord justice?”

Seeing Mylla close to tears, Lecie wrapped an arm around her waist to lend her support.

Justice de Glanville took note of it with narrowed eyes. “Inform your father that once I conclude my business to the west of here, I plan on calling upon him. It would please me much that you do not present yourself in public with any non-relation until then.”

“Shall I tell him it has to do with the king’s business, my lord justice?”

“You may tell him it has to do with you, dear Mylla.” Reaching out, he lifted Mylla’s slender hand to his thick lips. “I shall make all haste so as not to keep you waiting overlong for my return.”

“Mylla.”

Talan’s voice had Mylla pulling her hand away from Justice de Glanville to step back. “Sir Talan, you have returned.”

Stepping slightly in front of Talan to block his view of Justice de Glanville, Albin addressed Lecie. “We apologize for keeping you ladies waiting so long.” Briefly dipping his head to the justice he added, “What an unexpected surprise to find you in Rochester, my lord justice.”

“I would say the same goes for you, Sir Albin.” Puffing his slight chest out he stared up at Albin who stood a full head above him. “Last I heard it was Baron Erlegh’s duty to see to the tower construction.”

“Indeed it is,” Albin agreed. “Only he and his lady have recently welcomed a daughter into the world so I am standing in his stead for a time.”

“I see.” Craning his head around Albin’s broad chest, Justice de Glanville pinned Talan with his gaze. “What business do you have in Rochester?”

“It is where my liege wishes me to be,” Talan shot back. His hand involuntarily flexing it moved towards the hilt of his sword.

Her eyes wide with fright, Lecie caught Albin’s gaze to point the action out to him.

Blocking Talan completely, Albin bowed to the justice. “My lord justice, if you will excuse us, we have promised to take the ladies to see the mimes and the show is about to begin.”

“Mimes?”

“I do so wish to see them,” Lecie spoke in a nervous trill.

“And so you shall.” Extending his arm, Albin presented it to Lecie. “Shall we depart, Talan?”

Offering his arm to Mylla, Talan jerked his head in the justice’s direction. “My lord justice.”

His face a mottled red, the justice was about to speak when Mylla captured his attention by dipping into a quick curtsy. “I shall pass your message along to my father, my lord justice.”

“Easy, lass,” Albin whispered when Lecie attempted to flee the presence of the vile man. “Give me a smile and stroll with me.”

“What if he stops us?”

“He would never create a scene in such a place.”

“How do you know?”

“Justice de Glanville has a close acquaintanceship with a baron well known to me. Men of their ilk prefer aiming at the backs of their enemies, not facing them head on.”

“He is as vile as I thought him to be.” Inhaling a deep calming breath, Lecie pasted a smile on her face and gently squeezed his arm in thanks. “You could not have come at a more opportune time.”

“Had I known he was in town, I would not have left you at all.”

Once they were out of sight of the justice, Talan turned back to them with a grim look. “I think it best if I were to return Mylla home.”

“Unfortunately, I agree,” Albin responded. “I shall escort Lecie back to the inn and meet back up with you at the ale stand.”

Lecie glanced towards the center of the square where the stage was set. “What of the children? Shall we fetch them as well?”

“Leofrick will keep an eye on them until I return,” Albin assured her. “At least they can still enjoy the day.”

Hugging Mylla, Lecie whispered, “Have faith in him.”

“I shall,” Mylla whispered back. “You do the same.”

Setting off in opposite directions, Lecie led the way through the milling throngs as Albin lightly rested his hand on the small of her back.

A pair of jesters briefly blocked their way, dancing around them and tossing flower petals above their heads. Bowing low before her, one of the jesters presented Lecie with a blue silk kerchief.

Accepting a coin from Albin, his glowering gaze had them moving off as a group of children followed behind.

Albin slowed as they passed through the last of the stalls. Spotting a table set with an array of hair ornaments, he guided her forward. “Take your pick to remember the day by.”

“That is not necessary, Sir Albin. I shall always remember this day.”

Gesturing to the table with a sweep of his hand, he smiled. “Humor me.”

Her stomach fluttering by the look in his eyes, Lecie perused the hair combs. Her eye resting on a delicate silver comb fashioned into a butterfly, she picked it up. “This one is beautiful.”

Settling a price with the vendor, Albin passed the man a few coins.

“Thank you, Sir Albin,” she spoke as soon as they stepped away from the booth.

“You are most welcome. May I?” Taking the comb from Lecie’s hand, he smoothed the hair behind her ear to fasten it. “Beautiful indeed.”  

Once they were clear of crowd, Albin once again extended his arm to her. “It is not how I envisioned the day to go.”

“Aside from the justice’s appearance, I found it quite enjoyable.”

“You are just saying that to be kind.”

Pleased to have him all to herself she glanced up at him. “It is the truth.”

Cupping her hand where it rested lightly on his arm, Albin smiled. “I often think you are too good to be true.”

At a loss for what to say, Lecie nervously changed the subject. “Do you think Sir Talan would have drawn his sword against the king’s justice?”

“Where Mylla is concerned I have ceased to be surprised by what the lad does.”

“Still, you do not think he would have actually done it? Surely he would have been cut down on the spot.”

“A man in love is not bound to be rational when his love is threatened, regardless of the cost to himself.”

Drawing to a halt, Lecie looked up at him. “Is their love hopeless, Sir Albin?”

Albin cupped her cheek with a sad smile. “I believe where there is love there is always hope.”

“I shall pray it is so.”

Looking away, he heaved an uneasy breath. “I best see you back.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence, each lost to their own thoughts. 

Entering through the back door of the inn, Lecie smiled up at him. “Thank you for the day and the beautiful comb.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Her heart began to pound as he met her gaze. Swallowing hard, her lips parted to speak and felt foolish when she could think of nothing to say.

Albin’s hand reached out to her before he pulled it back. “You have a flower petal tangled in your tresses.”

“Oh.” Lecie’s hand shook as she ran her fingers through her hair. “It must have come from the jesters.”

Slowly reaching his hand out, he pulled the white petal free. “Most likely.”

Her throat felt dry as he raised the petal to his nose before tucking it into the belt of his tunic. Willing him to kiss her, she stepped closer.

“Lecie…” Abruptly clearing his throat, Albin stepped back. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Is not that what you are doing right now?”

“It is,” he agreed. “Only I had a more serious talk in mind.”

“Oh?” Her hopes lighting her eyes to a brilliant sparkle she smiled. “I thought you had to return to the festival?”

“I do…I meant another time.”

“I shall be here when you return,” she whispered tilting her face up for a kiss. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands slid through her tresses to cradle the back of her head. Focusing on his lips, her tongue darted out to moisten her own.

“Lecie,” he spoke low as if in torment.             

Closing her eyes, she leaned into him to wrap her arms around his waist.

Gently kissing her forehead, he stood as if undecided. After a long tense moment, he released her to step back. “I must go.”

* * *

Once again confused by his manner, Lecie remained in the kitchen after Albin departed, to check on the meal preparations.

Betta had the stew finished, and trenchers and rolls waiting. Making note to make it up to her, she passed into the common room to survey the cleanliness with a critical eye.

She looked up with a frown as the tavern wench, Harsent, came sauntering down the steps. Dressed in a soiled rough woolen kirtle of brown and stained cream kirtle, her graying black hair escaped its loose braid.

“You assured me last eve the floors would be seen to by this morn, Harsent.”

“Leave off, Lecie. You know I have been ill,” Harsent, pouted.

“Only from the amount of drink you imbibe in the evenings,” Lecie scolded. “In that alone you do not hold up your end of the board agreement.”

“Your father was much more understanding and pleasant,” Harsent mumbled. “I do not see you treating Gunilda and Betta the way you do me.”

“Gunilda and Betta see to their tasks without having to constantly be reminded of them,” Lecie replied sharply. “Come dark, the inn shall be fair to bursting with revelers. I suggest you see to the floor by then.”

“I see no point in cleaning something that is only going to get soiled again.” Harsent huffed as she passed Lecie on her way to the kitchen for a wash bucket.

Lecie headed up the steps for one last check on her father before the inn began to fill. A shadow crossed her eyes to see him resting uneasily. Sitting with him, she dabbed at his brow with a cool cloth until the late afternoon sun began to slant across the floor.

“I love you, Da,” she whispered as she leaned over him to kiss his damp brow. Straightening she shrieked as someone seized her arms roughly from behind.

“Keep your trap shut or you will wake him.”

Breaking free, she whirled around to face an agitated Hamon. “Take your hands from me,” she seethed. “Why are you even here? You very well know Joseph cannot attend the stand alone.”

Out of breath, his eyes darted over his shoulder as he once again seized her upper arm. “Your man is on his way back to the inn and before he arrives, you and I need to settle a few things.”

“Unhand me, Hamon.” Lecie winced in pain as he half-dragged her out of the room and down the passageway. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Pulling her around the steps leading to her garret, Hamon forced her into the children’s chamber.

Suddenly afraid of his intentions, she began to struggle in earnest as he turned to bolt the door. “I demand that you unhand me or I shall scream the rafters down.”

In response, Hamon slapped her hard across the face. Shoving her down on the edge of Clayton’s pallet, he moved to stand above her. “I do not have time to play nice so I suggest you listen well.”

“How dare you,” Lecie breathed, raising a hand to her stinging cheek. “If my father had any intentions of keeping you on, I vow he will not any longer once I inform him of this.”

“Shut your mouth or I shall give you another,” Hamon snarled. “I have had enough of trying to woo you with kindness.”

“Woo me?” Lecie moved to stand. “I would rather starve and be homeless than accept one such as you.”

“After seeing you with Sir Albin, I know that now.” Shoving her back down on the bed, he leaned close to her suddenly frightened face. “I also know you would do anything for the young ones.”

“What are you talking about?” Lecie’s heart began to pound in fear as she stared up at him.

“Your lover and his friend caught me filching from the till. They now intend to bring the sheriff back with them to have me arrested.”

“You stole from my father?” Enraged, Lecie gained her feet. “How dare you, after all he has done for you?”

Grabbing her by the throat with rough calloused hands, Hamon pressed his thumbs into her windpipe and began to squeeze.