Lords of Darkness and Shadow (113 page)

“I am sure there will be no more transgressions, my lord.”

He just stood there, looking at her as if he didn’t believe her.  In the corner, the lady knight shifted slightly, grunting when her ribs pained her. It was enough of a noise so that Tevin and Cantia took their attention away from each other and focused on her.

“Are you in pain?” Tevin asked her.

Val tried to shrug, but with a broken collarbone, it was not a simple gesture. “As much as is to be expected, I suppose.”

“I shall bring you more willow bark,” Cantia turned for the door.

“Wait,” Val stopped her. “Though I appreciate your kindness, my lady, that brew makes me exceedingly tired.  I find the pain tolerable.”

“As you wish, my la…lady.”

Cantia wasn’t quite sure how to address the lady knight and the room fell into an awkward silence. Tevin lifted his hand in Val’s direction.

“Lady Cantia, this is my sister, the Lady Valeria du Reims,” he introduced them. “I apologize that I am so late with introductions, but it did not seem the appropriate time yesterday. Please know that we are both very grateful for your delicate care of her injuries.”

Cantia dipped her head in Val’s direction. “A pleasure, my lady.”

“My pleasure as well, Lady Penden. And my thanks.”

Cantia gazed at the fair haired lady knight, feeling foolish for staring at her and realizing that they both knew that she was staring at her. It wasn’t hard to read her thoughts. Val smiled a toothy grin that was both impish and charming.

“I know, it’s not usual to see a woman in armor,” she said. “Blame my brother. He would swordplay with me as a child and I grew to love it.”

Cantia looked at Tevin, an eyebrow lifted in mock reproach. “You turned this lovely woman into a warrior? How dastardly.”

He pursed his lips, knowing this was a battle he could not win but willing to make the attempt. “Do not believe everything she tells you.  I had no hand in this. She would blame me when the truth is that I cannot get rid of her.”

As Val burst out in giggles, Cantia went on the attack, however in jest. “She should be married to a fine lord and have many children about her. Why are you so selfish that you would force her to bear arms? Haven’t you enough men at your disposal that you do not need to force your sister into armed servitude?”

As Val hooted, Tevin threw up his hands as if to defend himself. “My lady, if you have any ideas on how to get my sister out of armor and into feminine garments, I am at your mercy.  Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed.”

Cantia fought off a grin, winking at Val as the woman stifled her snorts in her hand. “You are a wicked brother, my lord.  See how your sister suffers because of you.”

Tevin, too, was fighting off a grin. He simply shook his head and turned away, knowing that any further words from him would only be twisted by Cantia’s humorous tirade.  On the other hand, he was perfectly willing to be a target if it would help her forget Charles Penden’s brutality.  Moreover, this was the first light moment they’d had since his arrival to Rochester.  He was discovering that she had a delightful sense of humor.

Cantia, for her part, had indeed forgotten her cut lip.  The levity of the moment was helping her mood for the first time in days.  And she was pleased to see that the viscount also possessed a sense of humor, a surprising factor given the man’s warring nature.  As he walked away from her, smirking, she found herself admiring his broad back. It was a rather nice back.  But the uninvited thought shocked her, sickened her, and she abruptly lost her humor.  She suddenly felt very ill at ease, desperate to get out of the room and away from the inappropriate thought that had unexpectedly entered her mind.

“I will fetch your meal, my lady.”

Val watched her nearly run from the room, her own humor fading at the swift departure. She looked at Tevin, who himself had only caught the tail end of Cantia’s garments as she fled from the door.  He met Val’s gaze.

“Why did she leave so swiftly?” he asked.

Val shook her head. “I do not know.”

Tevin nodded his head, wondering if he should go after her.  Val, not surprisingly, could read it in his eyes. And having known her brother her entire life, she could read something else, something she had never seen before.  But just as quickly, she chased those thoughts away. It was impossible. Still…

“Why don’t you go after her,” she suggested, watching his expression carefully. “If we somehow offended her, then we should apologize.”

Tevin didn’t say a word. He merely nodded his head and left the solar. Val sat there for several long moments, entertaining thoughts that she had never before considered. There had never been any need. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her brother held some interest in the lovely, grieving Lady Penden. For Tevin’s sake, she sincerely hoped not.

Tevin caught up to Cantia just as she exited the keep into the kitchen yard. Dogs scattered in front of her and much activity went on all around them. Hunt was running in her direction, splashing the contents of the wooden pitcher he held, and Cantia directed her son to take the liquid to the lady knight.  As the boy ran on, Tevin came up beside her.

“Is something amiss, my lady?” he asked.

Startled at his voice, she nearly tripped on her skirts. He had to grab her to keep her from falling. “Nay, my lord,” she said.

“You left rather quickly. We were afraid we had offended you somehow.”

So she had made a fool of herself yet again.  Cantia thought she was the only one who had noticed her swift flight. It seemed that all she did was make a fool of herself in front of her liege. Gazing up into his dark eyes, she began to feel extremely foolish. 

“Of course you did not,” she said. “You could not possibly do anything to offend me. Even if you did, I would forgive you.  But I am truly sorry if I seemed rude or abrupt. I did not mean to.”

Tevin gazed into her beautiful face, feeling a pull he’d never felt before. It was enough to seriously disturb him, for whatever pity or compassion he had been feeling for the lady over the past few days was transforming into something that seemed to be affecting his mind as well as his tongue.  He should have fought it with all his strength, but at the moment, he couldn’t seem to. All he knew was that any time he spent with Lady Penden, however brief or trivial or emotional, was unlike any time he’d ever spent before, with anyone.

“Say no more,” he said. “As long as all is well, I shall leave you to your duties.”

She nodded, watching as he excused himself. Cantia stood there a moment, observing his powerful form stroll across the yard and back into the keep.  She’d never seen a man move with such strength before, with such commanding presence.  It was interesting to compare it to Brac’s presence, which was by far more relaxed and easy. Brac had never radiated the power that Tevin did. It was curious. Turning for the kitchen once again, she went about her business with a good deal on her already-strained mind.

CHAPTER FIVE

Myles had been on duty constantly since Brac’s passing.  Though he rode with Viscount Winterton on the second raid to retake the Dartford Crossing bridge, he’d spent the majority of his time patrolling the walls of Rochester and trying to keep an eye on Charles. With Brac’s passing, Myles would assume what responsibility he could. He owed it to Brac, and to Cantia, to do so.

Now, he was taking a much deserved rest in the knight’s quarters. All of Viscount Winterton’s men had temporary quarters here, and he knew them all from the past years of battle. He knew and liked Simon Horley; the man was fierce, bold and, strangely, thoughtful. John Swantey was also a reputable man that he was comfortable  with. Dagan Sutton and Gavril de Reigate were latecomers to the viscount’s corps, having been gifted to the Viscount from the Earl of Norfolk for services in battle.  They were a quiet pair and he did not know much about them, but he had seen that they were courageous fighters.

Myles sat at the table in the small gathering room of the knight’s quarters, contemplating the last of his wine and thinking he should probably try to get some sleep.  But he seriously wondered if he should check on Lady Penden and her son first.  Though the lady’s outward grief had not reached the fevered pitch that Charles’ had, still, he could see how devastated she was. Myles knew very well that Cantia and Brac had been fond of each other.

As he contemplated his thoughts, the door to the knight’s quarters flew open and Charles stomped in.  Myles looked up to see that the man was in a varied degree of madness, mumbling to himself and looking around the room as he was searching for something.  It seemed that he didn’t even see Myles until the knight spoke.   

“Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

Charles froze, looking at Myles as if started to see him.  Then he marched straight to him and slammed his hands on the table.

“A weapon,” he growled. “I need a weapon.”

Myles did not like the sound of the request. “Why?”

Charles threw up his arms. “Must everyone disobey me at my own house?” he cried. “Give me your weapon, de Lohr. Give it to me now.”

Myles broadsword was lying on his bed in the next room, thankfully.  Myles set his wine down and stood up.

“I am sworn to you, my lord,” he said steadily. “If there is any defending to be done, I will do it in your stead.”

Charles grabbed him as if to shake him, but Myles was too big a man to shake.  “I do not defend anything. I will kill him.”

“Kill who?”

Charles’ expression was beyond madness. It was obsession and impulse, blended into elixir of pure psychosis. “The viscount. He has shamed me. He has killed my son. He must pay.”

Now it was Myles’ turn to grab Charles. “You speak treason, my lord,” he said quietly, firmly. “I will hear no more of this. Should the viscount catch wind of what you have said, it would mean great danger for you and possibly your family. You must keep yourself in check, my lord, or all will be lost. Do you understand me?”

Charles’ lips curled back in a sneer that just as quickly faded.  “I understand that he has invaded my home. Rochester is no longer mine.”

“Rochester will always belong to the stewards,” Myles assured him, praying that the man would get a grip on himself. “Get some sleep, my lord. You’ve not slept for days and your exhaustion is weighing heavily. Come to the next room and…”

Charles yanked away from Myles, pacing sloppily across the floor. “She did this,” he muttered. “That foolish wench has caused this. She sides with him, you know.”

“Who?”

“The viscount,” Charles muttered. “She sides with him. He protects her. They are going to take Rochester away from me. Well, that will not happen. It cannot. I forbid it!”

He suddenly bolted from the room before Myles could catch him.  He stood in the doorway, watching Charles lose himself in the bustle of the ward.  He could only shake his head; so much for the idea of sleep.

Myles went in search of Tevin.

***

The January day was cool and rainy. Clouds had moved in off the sea and a steady rain had pounded the land since late morning.   Cantia was in the solar with Val, feeling obligated to give special attention to the sister of her liege.  After the meal that the injured lady so delicately ate, for even swallowing seemed to be painful, Cantia had the fire stoked and proceeded to warm some water to wash the lady with.

Val didn’t protest as Cantia ran a warm, wet cloth over her one good shoulder and one good arm, and then moved to clean the dirt off her face.  Val really was a pretty woman, even prettier without all of the grime associated with battle.  Cantia said little as she bathed her patient and made every effort to insure the woman’s comfort.  Val had been watching her closely, however, thinking that she had never before seen such a lovely woman. She could understand her brother’s fascination with her.

At some point, Hunt entered the solar with the ever-present dog on his heels.  Hunt was used to coming and going as he pleased, for his father never admonished him for anything.  Brac had always been unusually lenient with the child and though Hunt wasn’t spoiled, he was bold. He walked right up to Val as Cantia tightened the bandages that braced her bad shoulder.

His big blue eyes focused on the lady knight. “You are not a real knight,” he said flatly.

Cantia looked at her son with displeasure. “Hunt, you are rude to address the lady so,” she admonished softly. “Please apologize.

But Val grinned, waving off the motherly scolding. “Nay, my lady, he is quite right,” she said. “I am not a man and, therefore, not a real knight. But I fight as one anyway.”

“Why?” Hunt asked innocently.

“Because that is my calling.”

Hunt cocked his head. “You are called? Called what?”

Val’s grin broadened. “I simply mean that this is what I do. I was born to do it.”

“But…” his little nose scrunched in confusion. “How can you fight if you are not a real knight?”

“Enough,” Cantia turned her son around and face him towards the door. “Take George outside and play with him. Throw him the balls. He likes that.”

Hunt dug his heels in. “But I’m hungry!”

“Then go to the kitchen,” she slapped him lightly on the buttocks.  “Cook will give you something to eat. Go now and leave me in peace.”

Hunt did as he was told, but not before he walked a wide circle around the room, touching everything within his reach, all the while watching his mother finish tending the lady knight.  Only when Cantia shot him a threatening look did he leave the room completely. When he was gone, she dared meet Val’s amused gaze.

“I must apologize for my son’s behavior,” she said. “He is, unfortunately, quite stubborn and not quick to obey.”

Val merely grinned. “He is still very young. But that will change when you send him to foster. He’ll have to obey swiftly or risk a beating.”

Cantia’s delicate fingers froze for a moment, then resumed tightening the bandage. Val glanced at the woman, noting that her expression was seemed distressed. She wrongly guessed at the trouble.

“Do not worry, Lady Penden,” she said. “He will learn to obey. Have you selected his foster house yet?”

When Cantia looked at her, Val swore she saw tears. But Cantia quickly lowered her gaze, refocusing on the wrappings.  “Nay,” her voice was strangely tight. “He… he is still too young to foster.”

“Not necessarily,” Val said. “My brother was about Hunt’s age when he left for Kenilworth Castle to foster. Our father arranged for that when he was born.  Tevin was gone for many years… I did not truly even come to know my brother until his return as a fully-fledged knight. He was eighteen years of age.”

Cantia’s head came up again. “He was gone for thirteen years?”

“Aye.”

Cantia left the bandages.  Head hung, she went back over to the table and collected the things she had brought with her – more bandages, a bowl, a small knife to cut the cloth with.  She piled them all in the bowl and moved for the door.  But as she left, Val heard the distinct sound of stifled sobs.  They only grew louder when the woman quit the room and thought she could no longer be heard.  Val called out to her, twice, but the lady apparently did not hear her. 

When Tevin entered the solar a short time later, he got an earful.

***

“My sister is afraid that she has upset you.”

Cantia was sitting at the well-scrubbed table in the great hall, alone up until Tevin walked into the room. He walked towards the table, slowly, his massive body moving with grace and ease.  Cantia watched his approach, hoping there were no tears left on her cheeks but not wanting to be obvious by checking.

“She did not, my lord,” she said, eyes downcast. “I simply… that is to say, I am…”

Tevin plopped his enormous body on the table top right next to her.  His right thigh was next to her arm and she instinctively pulled away.  When she looked up, it was into glittering dark eyes.

“This evasiveness simply will not do,” he said flatly. “If you are upset, I would very much prefer you told me so that it is out in the open.  You have been most kind and accommodating to us and I will not see you distressed over things that I would do all in my power to right.  What did my sister do that upset you so?”

Cantia shook her head, struggling for courage.  She even smiled, weak though it might be. “Any number of things can upset me these days, my lord. It matters not. I am a silly woman.”

“You are not,” his voice grew softer. “You have a great many things on your mind, and rightfully so.  What was it my sister said that sent you from the room in tears?”

Cantia struggled with her brave front. “Nothing, my lord. We were simply speaking of my son and she asked me where he was to foster.  I said… I said that we had not yet petitioned to foster him because….”

So much for the brave front. The tears returned and she struggled not to fall apart.  Tevin was careful to resist his natural urge to physically comfort her in some way; instead, he sat beside her on the bench, very close, and watched her wrestle with her composure.

“Because why?” he asked gently.

She sniffled into her hand. “Because he’s too young,” she finally blurted. “I have just lost my husband. I cannot fathom the thought of losing my son.”

So there it was.  Against his better judgment, he took her free hand in his massive one, rubbing the fingers gently.  He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

“How old is Hunt?”

She squeaked as she spoke. “Five years.”

He fought off a smile. “Aye, he’s far too young still. You do not have to worry about sending him to foster for two more years at least.”

The hand came away from her eyes, the wet lavender orbs shimmering with emotion. “Why must I send him away at all? Why can he not stay here, with me, and learn to be a knight? Where is it written in law that he must be sent away?”

She was growing more grieved with each passing word.  For lack of a better action, Tevin put his enormous arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his cheek on the top of her head.
I would do this for anyone rightfully distressed
, he told himself. But he knew, deep down, that he would not. He had, in fact, never done it before.  Now it seemed as if he was looking for any excuse to pull Lady Penden into his arms.

“There is no law that says a child must be sent away,” he said quietly. “But the purpose of being sent away to foster is to learn skills and knowledge from those not your family.  It is a sharing of wealth and knowledge that builds strength of character in men. Wouldn’t you like your son to learn to be a knight from men who have traveled the world doing just that?”

She sniffled.  “I don’t like it. I will not do it.”

He gave her a squeeze before he realized he did it. “Hush, now. There is no use in working yourself up over something that is a few years away. You’ll not lose your son any time soon, I promise.”

Her head came up, gazing at him with those magnificent eyes.  “If I do not want to send him away, I do not have to, do I?”

“Nay.”

Only then did she seem to relax. Tevin realized almost too late that she was far too close; he could feel her breath on his face. With her wet eyes and sweet lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. The very thought startled him, distressed him, causing a violent outburst of contention within him.   The woman was a new widow, grieving over the loss of her beloved husband. She was not a woman to be trifled with.  Much to his dismay, however, she put her head back down, right onto his shoulder. He swore he felt her nestle against him.  It was a damn sweet feeling.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly. “Your words bring me great comfort.”

“It is right that they should,” he said quietly. “I tell you the truth.”

Her reply was to lift her head, put a soft hand on his jaw, and tenderly kiss his cheek. Then she rose and was gone.

Tevin sat there for several long minutes, his heart thumping against his ribs and the spot on his face where she had kissed him blazing with sensation.  As small a gesture as it was, as perfectly innocent, it was the most significant kiss of his life. He felt it down to his soul.  And he knew, at that moment, that he was in a good deal of trouble.