Lords of Darkness and Shadow (114 page)

But thoughts of trouble quickly fled when Myles entered the hall, his blue eyes fixing on his liege.  He made straight for the table.

“I saw Lady Penden in the solar,” he said to Tevin. “She looks much better today. Have you spoken with her at all?”

Oh… yes
, Tevin thought. “I have,” he said evenly. “She does seem much better, though now her distress seems to be with the thought of sending her son to foster.”

Myles brow furrowed. “What?” he sat down opposite Tevin. “What brought that up?”

“A conversation with someone apparently broached the subject,” Tevin replied. “I have spent the past several minutes attempting to convince her that it was far too soon to worry about sending her son away.”

Myles snorted, looking around the table to see if there was any ale or wine available. Seeing none, he summoned a servant. As the man went to do his bidding, Myles turned back to Tevin.

“I believe we may have more trouble on our hands, my lord,” he said. “‘I have just come from a most distressing exchange with Charles.”

Tevin was glad for the change in subject, even if it was about Charles. “What happened?”

Myles shook his head, with regret. “I fear his madness is gaining,” he said. “He was in the knight’s quarters not a half hour ago asking for a weapon.”

Tevin found he had little tolerance when it came to the madness of Charles Penden.  “Before you continue, you should know that he struck Lady Cantia this morning. I was witness to it. I ordered him from the keep, not to return until my anger had cooled.”

Myles stared at him a moment in disbelief. “He
struck
her?” he repeated. “My God… Brac would have had his head. His father had always been inordinately jealous of Lady Cantia, mostly because she held Brac’s attention captive. Charles could never come to terms with the fact that he was not the center of his son’s world, just as Brac was the center of his.  There is years of contention between Charles and Lady Cantia, all of it Charles’ fault.”

Tevin’s jaw flexed. “Then it would seem that the Lady needs to be protected from her father-in-law, for clearly, with Brac gone, he feels no need to hide his hostile feelings for her.”

A steward brought some wine and Myles poured himself a healthy measure. “I will be vigilant, my lord, have no doubt.”

“He does not resent the boy, does he?”

Myles took a large swallow of the tart red liquid. “He adores Hunt. He would never harm him.”

Though it was one less thing to worry over, Tevin was still disturbed that Lady Cantia would need protection from Brac’s insane father. “Back to your statement, then. Why was Charles asking for a weapon?”

Myles cast him a long glance. “He’s not in his right mind, my lord. He says much that he does not mean.”

“Why does he want a weapon?”

Myles sighed heavily, toying with his cup. “I am not sure if he feels the need to protect himself or the need to commit murder. He seems to think that you and Lady Cantia are conspiring to take Rochester from him. He further blames you for Brac’s death.”

Tevin scratched his head, absorbing the information. “His lunacy grows,” he muttered. “I suspect the man needs to be locked in the vault for his own protection as well as the lady’s.  I do not need the added element of a mad man running amuck at Rochester, not when there is much else that requires my attention.”

“Agreed,” Myles said. “Would you have me corral him, my lord?”

Tevin shook his head. “You should not be the one to arrest your liege. My men will do it.”

Myles downed the last of his wine. He found that his fatigue was catching up with him. “Shall I shadow the lady until Charles can be put away?”

“Nay,” Tevin said. “You have enough to do with the command of Rochester. I shall make sure the lady is well protected until Charles can be caged.”

“Very good, my lord. If there is nothing else, I shall retire for a time.”

Tevin waved him off, mulling over the conversation as Myles quit the hall.  He thought to find Sir Dagan and order the imprisonment of Charles Penden until the man could get himself under control, but as he rose from the bench, Lady Penden passed within his line of sight, emerging from the solar and mounting the steps to the upper floors.  A second later, Hunt and the big yellow dog also emerged and ran after her. He could hear the dog barks echo in the stairwell.

Now he was thinking on Cantia again.   With a sigh of frustration, mostly at himself, he went about his business.

***

Charles Penden, as suspected, did not react well to being imprisoned. He shouted conspiracy and murder as Dagan and Gavril practically carried him to the gatehouse, dragging him down the narrow steps and incarcerating him in the bottle prison.   The name of the prison was derived from the shape of the cell; the door was in the ceiling and the room was literally shaped like a bottle; wide at the bottom and narrowed up towards the top. It was virtually impossible to escape from.  They left Charles screaming at the bottom of it.

They stood over the cell, looking into the hole that showed Charles at the bottom. The man was distraught, incoherently shouting.  The two knights shook their heads.

“Crazy man,” Dagan growled.

Gavril nodded in agreement. Shorter and darker than his cousin, he was also the oldest man in the viscount’s service at nearly forty years of age. He had seen much, done much.  He did not have much patience for a mad baron.

“We’ve duties on the wall,” he told his cousin. “Come along now.  Let’s leave the baron to his hell.”

When they began to move, Charles started yelling louder. “Wait!” he called. “Wait, I say! Do not leave me here alone!”

Dagan called down to him. “Cease your struggles, baron,” he advised. “A show of sanity may very well see you released.”

Charles was trying to climb up the sides of the prison, only managing a few feet before sliding back down to the floor. “Release me and you shall be well rewarded,” he clawed into the brick so hard that his fingers came away bloodied. “Let me out of here and I shall give you all that I have. Let me out!”

Gavril shook his head, jabbing his finger in Dagan’s arm to prompt the man to follow him. But Dagan was finding a weird fascination out of watching Charles struggle.

“This is what I mean, baron,” he said. “You sound like a mad man. Calm yourself and the viscount may take pity on you.”

Charles had stopped trying to scale the walls. He sat at the bottom of the pit, gazing up into the only opening that provided both light and air.

“Release me and I shall give you the lady and her dowry,” he offered, though there was defeat in his tone. “She came to my son with a large dowry. Release me and I shall give it, and her, to you. You could live like a king.”

“I’m sure I could,” Dagan said with mock patience. “And whereby would you get the power to do such a thing?”

“She belongs to me now.” Spit flew from Charles’ lips as he spoke. “She and the boy are mine, to do with as I please. Release me and I give her to you.”

Gavril continued to walk away, up the steps that led to the gatehouse. But Dagan stood there a moment, looking down at the crazed baron and entertaining possibilities that he just as quickly chased away. 
A madman’s desperate plea
, he told himself. But he had seen the lady and she was quite lovely. An interesting thought, but not a realistic one.  ‘Twas a madman’s desperate plea.

He followed his cousin from the vault.

CHAPTER SIX

The next two weeks passed in relative peace.  Charles stayed in the vault, which gave Tevin one less worry. Val was up and about, having been moved by Cantia to the third floor of the keep now that she was able to maneuver the stairs, and life in general seemed to be settling down for the first time since the death of Brac Penden.  For the most part, there had been no more battles for the bridge, though a week after Brac’s death there had been a minor skirmish. Tevin and his knights had ridden to battle, but the enemy had quickly fled and the scuffle was over almost before it began. After that, it was eerily peaceful. Tevin couldn’t decide if he was grateful or suspicious.

He kept telling himself that he needed to stay at Rochester due to its close proximity to the bridge. It was the same story he told everyone. But two weeks after Brac’s death, with the country relatively quiet, that excuse wasn’t holding much weight. Truth be told, Tevin didn’t want to leave. He was coming to be comfortable here and more than that, he did not like the thought of leaving Cantia.  In fact, it was almost a desperation.

Since the day that Charles struck her, she had kept her distance from him. He had seen her daily, ate with her almost every night in the great hall, but she was silent and reserved around him.  It was almost as if she was afraid of him somehow. Yet when she was with Val, she would relax and smile and laugh. He was coming to feel very jealous that his sister could elicit such a reaction from the lovely lady.  It made him more determined than ever not to leave Rochester. For some reason, it was becoming a fascination with him. He did not want to leave her and he could not clearly discern why.

On the morning of the first day of the new month, Tevin and a few of his men escorted Cantia to mass at the massive cathedral in the village.  Val tried to suit up in her armor, but it was still too painful for her, so Cantia had loaned her a soft linen sheath and yellow surcoat. With her flowing reddish gold hair, she made a striking picture. 

It was a cool day, with puffy white clouds riding the soft breezes.  The sky was as brilliant as any of them had ever seen it and even though it was winter, there were birds about. It seemed that every living creature was determined to enjoy the day, including Cantia.  She finally felt as if she was finally emerging from her destructive grief and a day like today was not only welcome, it was necessary.  She needed to feel strong again.

The colossal cathedral loomed before them. Though it was not unexpected, the sight threatened to bring back memories of Brac’s funeral, but Cantia fought them. She would not allow herself to digress, not when her new-found strength was so hard won. As they entered the cavernous, cool sanctuary of Rochester Cathedral, Tevin spoke softly to Cantia as she walked past him.

“I am at your mercy, my lady,” he said quietly.

She paused to look at him, her lavender eyes filled with curiosity. “What do you mean, my lord?”

Tevin nodded his head in the direction of his sister, now entering the cathedral in the company of Simon and Myles. “You have done what no one has yet been able to accomplish,” he said. “You convinced my sister to dress in feminine garments.”

Cantia grinned, watching Val move stiffly across the cathedral floor. “It wasn’t difficult, I assure you. She cannot wear anything with weight or restriction right now. It is a matter of pure comfort.”

It was as much of a conversation as they had had for a week. He intended to keep it going. “Comfort or not, I promised that I would be in your debt if you were to accomplish such a thing. How can I repay you?”

Her grin broadened and she lowered her gaze. “You were so kind and thoughtful after my husband’s death that I felt I owed you a great deal.  I’ve done nothing at all for Val, in spite of what you say, but if you like, I will call our scores even.”

Tevin extended an elbow to her, meaning to escort her into the church. He held his breath as she looked at the arm, perhaps thought to refuse, but reconsidered. He could feel her warm hand through the linen of his tunic. It was a marvelous feeling.

“Whatever I may have done for you upon Brac’s passing was my duty,” he said quietly; his voice was naturally very deep and booming and he did not want it echoing off the walls of the great stone church. “What you have done for Val is not. I have not seen my sister so light of mood in quite some time. She enjoys spending time with you.”

“And I, her,” Cantia replied. “She has become my friend.”

“I know she feels the same about you.”

“Then may speak boldly?”

“Of course.”

Cantia came to a halt, her eyes on Val in the distance, standing with Simon, Myles, and now John. “Your sister is far too lovely to be a warrior. You must find her a husband.”

Tevin glanced over his shoulder at his sister, a dark eyebrow raised. “I have said the very same thing to her many times. She had no interest in a husband. Besides, who wants to marry a woman that can lick you in a fight?”

In spite of herself, Cantia giggled. Tevin had the joy of being the one to cause it. She had a big dimple in her left cheek, something he found captivating.  Even her teeth were pretty, straight and white.  The more he saw of her, the more he wanted.

“Surely there is a man who will appreciate her for who she is,” Cantia said. “Why, look at Myles; do you know that he has spent a great deal of time with her?”

“De Lohr? “ Tevin snorted. “He has known Val for years. He considers her a fellow warrior.”

Cantia lifted a knowing eyebrow. “Does he? I wonder.”

Her comment made Tevin turn and stare hard at the tall knight with the shoulder length blond hair. “Why do you say that? What do you know that I do not?”