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Authors: Teresa Medeiros

shadow and lace (23 page)

BOOK: shadow and lace
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Little Freddie sighed. "Out of the mouths of bears…"

"He makes his point well." Irwin twirled the drooping ends of his moustache, an annoying habit he had adopted since they had grown long enough to droop. "The nobility seem to be eluding us. Where do all the rich folk go in the winter?"

"Winter is yet another pleasure for them." Bitterness laced Rowena's voice. "They proclaim it charming and pretty till it wets their woolen gloves. Then they weary of it and creep inside to languish before their fires and gobble their Christmas puddings."

Little Freddie ran his hands down the bony flank of his pony and gave her a curious glance beneath half-lowered lashes. Her callused hands kneaded the mare's mane.

"If the nobility will not come to us, then we shall go to it." Irwin smiled as if he had said something profound.

Rowena lifted an eyebrow. "Shall we ride to London town itself and demand an audience before the king?"

"We must stop spurning the castles. Let us play before those who would appreciate our talents," said Irwin.

Little Freddie mounted. "Barring you, that leaves only the blind and deaf. Castles are dangerous for Rowena. We have discussed this before."

Irwin sniffed. "She is being selfish. If she would accept my generous offer and allow the next village priest to marry us, she would no longer find herself in danger. Surely even this grim knight would hesitate to abduct a woman married before God and king." .

"God and king mean nothing to him. Nor would you, if you stood in his way." With those words, Rowena nudged her mount past his and into the shelter of the woods. Big Freddie shrugged the bear head over his own and followed.

Irwin shook his head. "When did she become such a shrewish creature?"

"Don't be a pudding," Little Freddie said. "If she cared naught for you, she would wed you and let Sir Gareth whack off your head."

The boy stared back into the forest, wondering if Rowena had caught a glimpse of the man who had cantered into the village just as the mob began pelting them with stones. A mantle of the blackest fur had veiled his features. He shook away a shiver and urged his pony forward as the first snowflakes slipped from the sky.

By nightfall, their horses waded through the dim forest in a sea of white. Fat flakes drifted downward to mesh in a seamless pillow that muffled all but the gentle click of flake hitting snow. The wind blew deceptively gentle. Rowena's cough ceased as the beast in her empty belly curled tightly into her lungs and began to scratch. As a heated flush followed a tooth-chattering chill, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the seductive blanket of snow and sleep forever.

The snow masked all traces of a path. They wandered silently and without purpose over the dreamlike terrain. When a castle came looming out of the darkness, Rowena was too numb to be startled.

They halted their mounts at the edge of the wood.

" 'Tis smaller than Revelwood," Irwin said, subdued for once.

"Like an abandoned toy," Little Freddie mused.

"Not a toy. And not abandoned." Rowena pointed. The orangy glow of a torch threaded its light through a shuttered window.

"Not abandoned indeed." Irwin's horse quivered as his knees went taut.

His gaze had found another structure harbored against the outer wall of the castle. It was a makeshift stable, open on one wall, with smoke pots scattered along its length to cast warmth and feeble light on its occupants. A dozen horses shared the stable.

"Pretty," Big Freddie murmured.

It took no connoisseur of horseflesh to recognize the magnificence of the beasts. They were all stallions or destriers. Even in the smoky light the emeralds and rubies encrusted on their bridles sparkled brighter than the snow impaled in the glow from the castle window.

Rowena shivered. "We should not tarry here."

"Hold your tongue, Ro," Irwin said sharply. " 'Tis a godsend. A castle of bored knights and ladies trapped in a snowstorm. Why they'll be tripping over one another to surrender their gold for a bit of entertainment."

Rowena bit her raw lip. The sharp retort Little Freddie expected did not come. " 'Tis too charming," she said softly. "Like one of those enchanted castles you told us of. Suppose we enter and can never leave?"

"Pshaw! You are too fanciful. If I recall, most of those enchantments involved excesses of food and drink and a beautiful maiden or two. Would you rather we all freeze to death to humor your womanly foreboding?"

Rowena gave him a dark look. There was no courtyard, no moat and no drawbridge between them and the castle door. There was only a deep blanket of snow, unruffled by human or animal prints. Her eyes searched the stable. None of the stallions was pure white.

"Rowena, Irwin may be right this time. I don't know how we can go on in this snow. If we try to sleep, I fear we will…" Little Freddie's voice trailed off as he rubbed his raw knuckles over his dripping nose.

Irwin did not wait for Rowena's approval. He dismounted and trundled toward the door. The others followed with Rowena hanging behind Big Freddie's mangy pelts. As Irwin pounded on the door, Little Freddie slipped in front of him. They were engaged in a polite shoving match when the door slipped open.

Rowena's fears were greatly relieved at the sight of the face appearing in the halo of light. No ogre or goblin this, but a man's face, smooth of chin and pleasant of expression. It was a face Rowena would have considered the height of handsomeness prior to meeting Sir Gareth. He could not have been much older than she, but a trim blond moustache and a gleaming pair of golden spurs marked him as a knight. A burst of hearty male laughter rolled out from the hall behind him.

"I say," he said, "did someone knock?"

Little Freddie stopped squirming in Irwin's grasp. "We did, sir. We are humble beggars in need of charity. Can we offer you some tricks and songs for a bowl of porridge?"

Irwin hefted Little Freddie into the snow by the seat of his braies. He bowed deeply and twirled his moustache. "Our tumbler speaks in haste. We are a troupe of international fame fresh from the province of Anjou."

The knight's eyebrows swooped upward. Rowena groaned silently.

Irwin swept out his arm. "Allow me to present Petit Frederick, tumbler extraordinaire." He jerked Rowena out from behind Big Freddie. "And the charming Mignon, whose array of tricks will astound you." Rowena hissed at Irwin from the corner of her mouth and curtsied sweetly to the knight. "Most amazing of all—Freddie the dancing bear."

Big Freddie peered stupidly at him. Irwin jerked the bear's head down and slammed his fist on it. The knight glanced politely at Big Freddie's perfunctory shuffle, but Rowena bore the brunt of his smile. She smiled back,warmed by its welcome and the scent of roast pheasant wafting out the door. Her hunger returned with a ravenous growl.

The knight leaned against the doorframe and stroked his chin, his slender hips and broad shoulders silhouetted against the light. "How fortunate. My companions and I were weary from boredom. It seems the fates have favored us with rescue."

"All we ask," Irwin said, "is a chamber to prepare in, a little meat, a little gold—"

"And a little feed for our horses," the bear growled.

The knight made a gesture behind his back, and a squire scraped past them. Rowena watched their mounts being led toward the stable with a tiny thrill of trepidation. But she dismissed her fears as the knight threw a friendly arm around Irwin's shoulders and ushered them into a hall where warmth hung in the air as palpable as an embrace.

Handsome young knights ringed them, their curiosity held in check by good manners. After a month spent fleeing one peasant mob after another, Rowena found one quality most entrancing. The knights were clean. There was none of the stench of unwashed flesh so lethal to an empty stomach. A kettle bubbled cheerfully on the hearth. The scent of cinnamon wafted through the cozy hall to mingle with the crisp cleanliness of breath flavored with spiced ale. A sudden fit of horror washed over Rowena. Had it been today she had washed or yesterday? She slipped her nose into her kirtle in the guise of scratching it. Friendly young faces bowed to plant genteel kisses on her palms.

The knights clustered around as the blond knight introduced his new guests one by one. When he bowed to Rowena with a special mention of her "array of tricks," the men's smiles broadened. Several of them clapped the knight on the back with a general murmur of, "Jolly good, Percival" and "Array of tricks, eh? Simply grand."

Rowena barely had time to give the half-eaten slab of meat on the table a longing glance before they were whisked into a tiny cell to prepare for their performance.

She slipped out of her ragged boots and smeared rouge on her cheeks. After smoothing her tattered kirtle as best she could, she raked her ringers through Big Freddie's pelts.

Little Freddie mumbled something to himself as he pulled on a hole-ridden pair of blue hose. He was frowning thoughtfully, but before she could question him the door thumped open and they were swept into the hall. The knights had propped themselves up on benches and tables in various states of repose. Most of them were closer in age to boys than men. Rowena's mouth watered at the sight of a turkey leg dangling carelessly from aristocratic fingers. She inched toward the fire.

Percival led the knights in a round of applause as Irwin stepped into the center of the hall. He pivoted on his heel and threw kisses all around. Rowena grimaced.

"Welcome to our grand exhibition. For our first entertainment of the evening, I should like to introduce Freddie, the dancing bear."

Big Freddie shambled out, overturning a chair and sweeping a goblet from a knight's hand in his blindness. He had barely made two graceless turns and a clumsy kick before the hall erupted into thunderous applause.

"Marvelous!"

"Bloody brilliant!"

"What a dance. Give us something else now."

Irwin frowned, bewildered, and gave Big Freddie a shove toward the wall. One of the knights caught him before he fell into a table.

Irwin shrugged. "If it pleases you, I call forth Petit Frederick, master of the tumble and fall."

Little Freddie danced forward, a smile pasted on his lips. His act was more fall than tumble, and after the first genuine flip, Percival caught him in midair and neatly set him aside.

The hall rocked with cries of admiration and more applause. Rowena was baffled. She had never seen an audience so easily satisfied. She blinked and shook her head. The heat from the fire was making her giddy. Percival kept a friendly grip on Little Freddie's shoulders.

Irwin coughed and sputtered. The gleam of a trumpet hanging over the hearth returned his composure. "May I?" he asked.

Percival nodded shortly. His smile seemed less open now. There was an unpleasant twist to his lips that reminded Rowena of a sneer.

Irwin climbed on a stool and took down the trumpet, but before he could blow, the trumpet was snatched from his mouth by a genteel hand. The arm that had taken it remained fixed around his neck in a jovial embrace.

Rowena's sense of foreboding came flooding back too late. Faces that had been boyish and friendly hardened as they turned toward her. Chins tilted at arrogant angles. Tongues darted out to moisten lips. The barest shift of a stance or posture and she was at the center of a ring of men who had been born to privilege and denied too little in their short lives. She backed toward the hearth, but the heat was no longer welcoming. Sweat trickled between her breasts.

"Any one of you that touches her is a dead man!"

The cry was Little Freddie's. Its shrill, broken note only deepened the cold smiles. He struggled in Percival's embrace. Percival ruffled the boy's hair and passed him to a red-haired knight who pinned his thin arms behind him.

Firelight cast gold lights in Percival's cap of hair as he swaggered toward Rowena. "Stifle your whining, wee one. We only wish to see what we were promised— the charming Mignon's array of tricks. There will be gold enough in it for all of you."

Rowena saw Irwin's face go pink and then white. A moment later Percival blocked her view as the back of his hand gently brushed her cheek. His thumb cut a teasing path across her lips.

"Do not tremble, sweet Mignon. We only wish you to perform for us. We shall make it well worth your time."

170

~
Teresa Medeiros
~

Rowena made a pretty moue and rubbed the floor with one bare toe. Percival's breath quickened. His other hand lifted to her hair. He yelped as she jumped, planting both of her feet on one of his. His sword was half out of its scabbard in her grip when the side of his hand came down in a chop that deadened her wrist and flooded her eyes with tears. From the corner of her eye, she saw Big Freddie go down under a glancing blow.

Percival spun her around and twisted her arm behind her. "Foolish wench," he bit off. "You shall not tease us with promises of entertainment and then try to cut our throats."

"You misunderstand," she said as he shoved her toward the table. "Those were not the kind of tricks he meant. I am not a whore."

"You're not the Holy Virgin, either, or you wouldn't be traveling with this motley troupe. How else could they earn their living but from the sale of your sweet flesh?"

BOOK: shadow and lace
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