Lords of Darkness and Shadow (122 page)

“’Tis me,” he called softly.

The door thumped, jerked, and flew open. The first face he saw was Hunt’s. The little boy growled at him like a bear. “Where’s my
food
?”

Tevin’s face fell. In the surprise of Arabel’s appearance, he realized that he had completely forgotten about procuring a morning meal.  Cantia came up behind Hunt, putting her hand over his mouth.

“Forgive him, my lord,” she said, her inquisitive gaze moving between Tevin and the young lady in his arms.  “His mood is foul when he’s not eaten.”

Val, who had been gazing from the window, turned to her brother and realized with shock that Arabel was in his arms. She gasped and flew across the room.

“Bella!” she cried softly, throwing her arms around both the girl and Tevin. “What are you doing here, sweetling? How did you get here?”

Arabel transferred her weak arms from her father to her aunt.  Val took her from Tevin, cradling her sweetly and hugging her. 

“I came with Cousin Geoff,” Arabel said. “We had an adventure of travel!”

Val had nearly the same reaction as her brother; when her bliss at Arabel’s  sudden appearance faded, she was very concerned for the young woman’s safety.  She looked at her brother with accusing eyes.

“He brought her here with the entire region under threat of battle?” she said. “Is he mad?”

Tevin put up a quelling hand. “I have already had words with him, Val. What’s done is done. Suffice it to say that Arabel is here, safely, and we are very grateful.”

Off to his left stood Cantia and Hunt; Cantia hands were on her son’s shoulders as she watched the tender reunion.  It had only taken her a matter of seconds to realize who the young lady was once the conversation began and she smiled gently as she watched Val waltz across the room with the tiny young woman in her arms.  She looked over at Tevin.

“She has her father’s comely looks, my lord,” she said softly.

Tevin gazed over at her, his expression softening.  Memories from the previous night flooded his mind, making him feel weak and giddy. He wanted very badly to reach out and touch her but dare not attempt it.  In time, it would be acceptable for him to do so, but for the moment, there was still propriety to be observed. Especially in front of Arabel and Hunt.

“My thanks, my lady,” he replied quietly. Then he winked at her. “If you do not mind a visitor, I shall retreat to the kitchens and bring Hunt his meal before he tears me limb from limb. I do not like the look in his eye.”

Cantia nodded graciously. As she and Tevin gazed sweetly at each other, Hunt wriggled from his mother’s grasp and made his way over to Val and Arabel.  They were gazing out of the lancet window as Val pointed out the cathedral of Rochester in the distance.  They were also speaking of Arabel’s exciting trip from Thunderbey. The little boy stood next to them, eyeing the newcomer.

“What isth your name?” he tugged on Arabel’s sleeve.

Arabel arched her neck back to look at him, made more comfortable when Val turned around.  They both smiled down at the wide-eyed young lad.

“Arabel,” she said in her very soft, very sweet voice. “What is your name?”

“Hunt.” The boy sized her up and down.  When he apparently decided she was worth talking to, he held out a hand containing a ball. “Do you want to play with me?”

Arabel’s face positively lit up. “I do!” she pointed to the bed, indicating for her aunt to set her down. “Will you throw it to me?”

Hunt hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the girl yet; he tossed her the ball before Val had set her down completely and it hit her in the forehead. While Cantia gasped, Arabel laughed and rubbed her head.  Then she picked up the ball, tried to toss it, and it ended up on the floor.  Hunt picked it up, threw it again, and hit her in the chest.

Tevin and Val watched the exchange carefully; Arabel could barely use her arms but she was trying with all her heart. And she was loving it.  Hunt, surprisingly, didn’t seem to mind that she couldn’t toss the ball; he continued to pick it up off the floor, off the end of the bed, and toss it back to her. She couldn’t catch it so it would end up in her lap.  Cantia, fingers folded and at her mouth as if she was praying, watched the activity with some concern.

“Hunt,” she admonished softly. “Young ladies do not catch balls. Perhaps you should play something that is more suited to the lady’s tastes.”

Tevin smiled faintly, approaching the bed. “I think that ball catching does run to her taste, does it not?” He put his hand on his daughter’s blond head, smiling down at her as she beamed. “Arabel, I would like you to meet Master Hunt Penden and his mother, the Lady Cantia.  They live at Rochester.”

Arabel’s big dark eyes focused on Cantia; they were wide and intelligent and Cantia smiled timidly. “It is a pleasure to know you, my lady,” she said. “Welcome to Rochester.”

Arabel smiled prettily, her gaze appraising and curious. “Thank you,” she said. “Are you the lady of the house?”

“I am.”

She looked at her father. “She is beautiful,” she said. “Is she hiding here with Val, too?”

Tevin nodded, trying not to appear too grim. “Another secret you must keep.”

Arabel looked back at Cantia. “But where is your husband? Surely he will protect you from Cousin Geoff.”

Cantia’s smile faded. It was the first time since Brac’s death that she had come into contact with someone who hadn’t known what had happened.  She had to explain his absence, which strangely didn’t upset her as she thought it might. “He was killed in a skirmish several weeks ago,” she told her.

“Oh,” Arabel looked rather regretful that she had asked. “I am sorry, my lady.”

Cantia forced a smile, wanting off the subject of Brac. Though there was no longer any horrendous pain associate with the memory, it was still an uncomfortable one. She had done a great deal of healing and was unwilling to pick at the scabs that were healing over the wounds.

“If you would like to play something else with Hunt, he has a good many toys we can put to use,” she suggested. “Perhaps your father will go into his chamber and collect some things.”

Tevin had been watching the exchange between his daughter and Cantia with great interest.  He was pleased to see that the initial meeting had gone well and he was more than pleased to see how Cantia had handled the question of Brac. In a strange, selfish reaction, it gave him hope that everything they had been feeling for each other, everything that had happened over the past day or so, was not simply a convenience or a mistake. It was real. He wanted it very much to be real.  He took a step in Cantia’s direction.

“After I play the part of the serving wench and bring Master Hunt his meal,” he mussed the boy’s blond hair. “Then perhaps I shall have time to collect some things for you both to play with.”

Hunt started to growl again but Cantia slapped her hand over his mouth.  Tevin’s gaze moved from Val to his daughter and finally Cantia before quitting the room.   When the door closed softly, Cantia went to lock it as Hunt picked up the ball again.

“Catch!” he cried.

The ball hit Arabel squarely in the nose and drew blood.

***

It had been as he feared. Though Tevin had spent the remainder of the day with Geoff, his mind was not on his cousin’s aimless chatter.  As they had toured the stores, the stables, the yards, and some of the surrounding countryside, Tevin discussed the strategic importance of Rochester when what he really wanted to do was talk about Cantia’s unearthly beauty.  The sun began to wane in the west and they found themselves back in the solar with a hearty blaze and a bottle of Port between them, but still, all Tevin could think of was Cantia.  Geoff was running on about the weak market for the wheat his serfs had harvested while Tevin struggled to focus on something other than lavender eyes. Finally, he’d had enough of the constant chatter and his own lack of focus. He wanted to get back to Cantia and the only way to do that was to shut his cousin up.

“Geoff,” Tevin finally broke into the prattle. “Wheat and weather are not the true reason you have come. I received your missive a few days ago.  Can we delve into the meat of this?”

Geoff took a long drink of the ruby Port. Behind him, the fire crackled softly as the room darkened with sunset.  He savored the flavor, smacking his lips and studying the pewter chalice. “What is it you wish to know?”

Tevin raised an impatient eyebrow. “I suppose I wish to know what plans you have.  This land is in turmoil.  We have held hope for months that Matilda’s invasion from Normandy was imminent, a hope fed by both you and her brother, the Earl of Gloucester.  We have prepared for this moment. What has happened that we are now in support Stephen of Blois?”

Geoff was casual, even cavalier. “I do not need to explain my reason to you.  You must have faith that I know best.”

“Perhaps you do not need to explain to me, but I am asking just the same. I have fifteen hundred men committed to your cause and I would like to know why I will now ask my men to fight for someone we have sworn to destroy.”

“Do you not trust my decisions?”

“I have been ever supportive of your causes, Geoff. But I still wish to know why the change of heart. Please.”

It was the softly spoken supplication that got him. Geoff suddenly went from nonchalant to animated in the blink of an eye. He slammed his chalice to the table and stood up, running his fingers through his blond hair.  Tevin watched him closely, with his usual unruffled attitude.  He was genuinely curious to know the man’s reasons and he was equally eager to be done with this conversation.

“Damnable Gloucester,” he finally muttered. “It is his fault.”

“Why?”

Geoff whirled on him, his expression taut.  “Because we agreed to split Oxfordshire when Matilda returned to assume her right, but I have been told by others that Gloucester has already been in discussions with Lord Wallingford for the same purpose. Imagine; Wallingford instead of me! He is not even an earl, but a lesser noble of an old Saxon line, long bereft of money or dignity.  The very idea is an insult. Therefore, I decided not to support Matilda and her treacherous brother, Earl Gloucester, if that is all of the loyalty they can show me.”

Tevin watched him rave like a child. Petulant as it was, it explained a lot. No strong sense of country or unity destroyed Geoff; simply the deeds of a nobleman playing a political game.  Tevin didn’t know whether to slap him or laugh at him.

“It could not be because Wallingford and Gloucester are cousins, could it?” he said with more control than he felt. “Gloucester had no familial loyalty to you.”

Geoff’s dark eyes widened. “Nor I to him. Therefore, we fight for the true king; we fight for Stephen.”

“Matilda has more of a claim to the throne than Stephen.”

“Say that again and I shall throw you in the vault!”

Tevin did laugh, then. He couldn’t help it. He shook his head and stood up, weary of the temper tantrum and eager to see Cantia. “The evening meal should be coming shortly,” he said. “Why do you not retreat to your chamber and rest? Bathe if it pleases you. We’ll speak more of this at sup.”

As quickly as Geoff flamed, that was as quickly as he doused. The rigidity went out of his posture and he returned his attention to the fine wine.  With long movements, he poured himself another measure.  “I am not hungry,” he grumbled, mouth to the rim of the cup.

Tevin was already moving for the door. “Then do not eat. But at least come and sit and enjoy the conversation.”

Geoff took a long drink. “Where is Val?” he asked casually. “I’ve not seen her all day.”

Tevin paused; by Geoff’s tone, he knew the man had been waiting for the right moment to ask that question. And by his expression, Tevin was further convinced that he knew exactly what Tevin was up to; he was hiding her. Geoff was, if nothing else, intelligent. But Tevin stood his ground.

“She is occupied,” he said evenly. “She likes to ride patrol, you know.”

“Where is Arabel?”

“With her women, upstairs. She is exhausted from being dragged half way across England.”

“Will she join us for sup?”

“If that is your wish.”

Geoff simply lifted an eyebrow and Tevin left the solar without another word. He didn’t dare mount the stairs to the chambers upstairs, suspecting that Geoff would be following his movements. So he went into the great hall and exited out into the kitchens, thinking to throw his mistrustful cousin off the track.  He quit the kitchen yards and found himself marching through the stables on his way to the knight’s quarters.

All the while, he knew his cousin’s eyes were upon him, mentally if not physically.  Geoff was suspicious of everyone and everything.  By the time Tevin reached the knight’s quarters, was ready for a stiff drink himself. Something about Geoff’s presence always put him on edge.  He would take a measure of ale with his men before retreating upstairs, giving enough time for Geoff to forget about their conversation and, hopefully, Val.

He could not have known how wrong he was. Geoff did not follow Tevin any further than the solar entry; he had wandered to the door, watching his powerful cousin walk across the great hall and out of the door leading to the kitchens. But that was the extent of it.  He knew the man was going to see to his men to repeat his conversation with the Earl for their benefit.  It was normal enough; the men had to know why they now supported the usurper and Geoff wasn’t suspicious of Tevin in that aspect.  But Tevin had been right in one way; Geoff’s attention was indeed on Val and her whereabouts.