The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles) (6 page)

“It seems I must
hear the smallest detail of every grievance,” he went on. “’Tis only natural, I
suppose. Father Robert has been helping me.” He sent Annith a sidelong glance.
“I’ve asked him to meet us at the castle in the morning.”

“What!” She
immediately felt panicked. “Why do we need Father Robert?”

He looked into her
eyes, his gaze steady. “We need him to marry us before I take you to Worcester
tomorrow.” And now it was the warrior speaking. “Once you’re my wife, no one
will have the authority to take you away.”

The thought of anyone
even trying to take her away was terrifying, but she was still torn, longing to
give in to him, afraid it would be wrong. Hugh must have seen the conflict in
her eyes, for he turned her fully toward him and grasped both her hands.

“Give me the
right to protect you,” he demanded, tender and urgent at once. “Who will
gainsay us once the deed is done? You said it yourself. I’m a baron, not some
landless squire who can’t support you. Marry me, Annith!”

She looked in
appeal to Martin and Herleve.

“If you were my
daughter, I’d be fetching Father Robert this instant to hear your vows, before
his lordship changes his mind,” Herleve said.

Hugh grinned,
but Martin gave his wife a stern look. “Let the girl make up her own mind,” he
said, and, turning to Hugh, “Mayhap if Annith knows more about you, my lord.
You told me you have lands. Where? And what of your family? A father would ask
these questions, but she has none here.”

“A good point,”
Hugh conceded. He smiled wryly at Annith. “I’ve been thinking of other matters,
but Martin is right. Family?” He shrugged. “’Tis only myself now. I’ve recently
inherited my father’s baronage and all his lands. The de Verneys hold two
castles on the Welsh border and have done so since the Conquest, but these days
our principal home is a manor at Buckland in Herefordshire.” He cocked a
quizzical brow. “Does that help?”

But with an
apologetic smile for Martin, Annith shook her head. “To a father, mayhap, but I
need to remember who I am.”

“I know,” he
said, intent again. “And I think your memory will return in time, but time is
the one thing we may not have.”

She drew in a
breath. “You think people are searching for me.”

“’Tis a
certainty. We need to find out who you are before they find you. That’s why
we’re going to Worcester. I’ll leave you at the castle with the Sheriff and his
wife. I know them well. You’ll be safe there while I visit the priory.”

“There are
convents the length and breadth of the country,” Martin pointed out. “Why
Worcester in particular?”

“Annith knew she
had to go north from the road where she encountered those boys.” Hugh released
her hands and began to draw an imaginary map on the table. “Worcester—” he
plunked down an empty mug “—is the next big town in that direction, and—”
another mug joined the first “—there’s a priory close by. If Annith wasn’t
fleeing
from
the cloister, she may have been seeking its protection.
Without knowing where she came from, ’tis the logical place to start.”

“If I was going
to the priory, wouldn’t they look there first?” she ventured.

Hugh nodded.
“Indeed, but you’ve been here several days now. They would have overtaken you
long ago, using the roads which you avoided. And not finding you, may have
left. Although if ’twas me, I’d leave a watch on the place.”

“In that case,
wouldn’t Annith be safer here?” Herleve asked anxiously.

“I won’t risk
it,” Hugh said. “Once they know she’s not at the priory or any other likely
cloister, they’ll start asking in the towns. And how many folk here have seen
your ‘cousin’ in church and remarked on her recent arrival, and her beauty?”

“Several,”
Martin said glumly. “Gossips, one and all. And the less we said, the more they
wanted to know. I don’t know how many lies I told.”

“All for a good
cause,” Hugh said, smiling. “But wait until this is done before asking for
absolution, because you’ll need another ready lie in case anyone comes to your
door asking to see your cousin.”

Martin shrugged.
“The girl went looking for work at the local manors.”

Hugh grinned.
“That should keep them chasing their tails for another day.”

Annith looked
from one to the other. She felt as if her head was spinning slightly. Hugh
thought her beautiful? She suddenly realized that she didn’t know
what
she looked like. Why hadn’t she thought to ask for some polished metal with
which to study her reflection? Mayhap she would have recognized herself.

That absurd
thought gave rise to a more important one.

“I’ll have to go
to the priory with you,” she said. “Otherwise how will they know me? Or not.”

Hugh tilted his
head, studying her. “I’ll describe you to them.”

When she looked
doubtful, he smiled. “That won’t be a hardship, little maid. Haven’t you ever
looked in a mirror?”

“Not in the
cloister,” she retorted. Which probably explained why looking at her reflection
hadn’t occurred to her. She frowned as a vague memory drifted through her mind.
“But recently— There was a room—” Her throat constricted without warning; her
stomach lurched.

“’Tis all
right,” Hugh said swiftly, obviously realizing what was happening and turning
to face her. He wrapped his fingers around her arms and held her steady. “No
one can hurt you now. Try to remember. Was anyone in the room with you? A
father? Mother? Guardian?”

She gave a
choked cry as the last word left his lips. Sheer desperation gave her the
strength to wrench free of his grip. She leapt to her feet, her skin turning
hot and clammy as sickness rose in her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth
and ran to the yard door. Barely aware that Hugh was also on his feet, she
hauled it open and fled into the night.

Three steps away
from the door she braced a hand on the wall beside her and fought the urge to
be violently ill. The effort had her shaking so badly she almost fell to her
knees, but then Hugh was there, his arm about her waist, steadying her against
him.

“Breathe,” he
commanded. “Slow and deep.”

Shuddering, she
obeyed. The chill of the night air helped. Slowly she felt her stomach settle.
But now tears welled in her eyes and this time she couldn’t fight them. Too
many days of fear and confusion, too many nights of fearful dreams, overwhelmed
her small defenses. She turned in his arms, pressed her face to his tunic, and
wept.

He didn’t speak,
just held her until she fell quiet. Then he bent his head to hers and she felt
him touch his lips to her brow.

“Forgive me,” he
said very low. “I knew you were afraid, but not the extent of it. I shouldn’t
have pushed you like that.”

“I have to
remember some time,” she said somewhat huskily. “I
need
to remember.”

“I know, but not
tonight. You need to rest for tomorrow.”

How patient he
was, she thought wearily. How warm and strong. The heat of his body was slowly
banishing the chills that brushed her flesh. Here, in his embrace, she felt
safe, no matter what nightmare was to come.

“You’ll still
take me with you?” she asked.

“Aye, but you
can’t ride around the countryside with me for days on end if we’re not
married.”

She shook her
head against him. “If only I could be sure.”

“Of what?”

“That you are not
doing this only for me. That if I marry you, you will not one day regret it.”

He drew back
abruptly and tipped her face up to his. “Is that what you think?”

He stared at her
for an instant before his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Annith wondered what was
going on behind that shrewd gaze. With the perversity of such things,
her
mind was now clear. If Hugh wanted her, she would marry him. It no longer
mattered that she might already be betrothed. She could never give herself to
another man anyway. The cloister would be preferable.

She recalled the
words she had uttered earlier, that she would don a nun’s robe if she was
already married. Such unthinking words, such unawareness of the feelings behind
them. And yet, somehow she
had
known, had already acknowledged the
secret she held deep in her heart. She didn’t need to know
who
she was,
she realized now. She knew
what
she was: a girl on the cusp of
womanhood, waiting to give herself to the man she loved.

“I’m a fool,” he
said, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Will it convince you if I say I’ve been
thinking of marriage for several months? I’m the last of my line and wish it to
continue. Also, my home has not had a mistress for nigh on twenty years and is
in dire need of one.”

He raised his
hand and gently brushed the last traces of tears from her cheeks. “Will you be
that mistress, Annith?”

“I will,” she
whispered. And with her acceptance, a sense of calm came over her. At least she
could be useful to him, instead of taking his protection and giving nothing
back. And she would love him all the days of her life and beyond.

He let out a
long breath, as if he’d been engaged in a conflict that was finally ended. “I
swear I’ve taken better defended keeps in less time,” he muttered, and though
there was wry humor in the words, something powerful glittered in his eyes. In
the light from the kitchen doorway she could see it clearly. Triumph, resolve,
and something…something barely controlled.

Before she could
wonder at the expression, he bent and lifted her into his arms as if she was
made of fragile crystal and carried her into the house.

They were
married before the morning sun had gathered up the last tendrils of mist
drifting above the fields. A perfect day for a wedding, Hugh thought, except
that no sunlight penetrated the cold stone walls of the little chapel within
the bailey.

He stifled a
pang of guilt as he glanced down at Annith, who stood beside him at the altar
rail. She should be married in sunlight, but this small bare chapel better
served his purpose. The only witnesses, apart from Father Robert, were Martin
and Herleve. He didn’t want to give anyone searching for Annith forewarning of
their marriage until he knew who and what he was dealing with.

Explaining that
to Father Robert had not been easy. Initially the priest had been reluctant to
marry them in such haste and secrecy. Only Annith’s assurance that she was a
willing participant had convinced him. But it was debatable now as to who was
more nervous: the bride or the priest.

As Father Robert
began to recite the marriage vows, Hugh took Annith’s hand in a warm clasp. He
could feel her trembling slightly as he repeated his vows, his voice firm, his
gaze holding hers. Her face appeared pale, framed as it was by the hood of the
cloak he had found for her. Was she still afraid she might be betraying a
previous vow she had made to another man? That would mean a lot to her, but he
couldn’t let her doubts stand in his way. He had no qualms at all; his only
focus at this moment was to gain the right to protect her. Everything else
could be sorted out later.

Then it was
Annith’s turn to repeat the words that would bind them for life. Her voice was
very soft, but steady. She may have had doubts, but her beautiful eyes gazed
into his as she promised to honor and obey him. Hugh tightened his fingers
around hers, trying to convey understanding, comfort, even warmth to counteract
the chill of this bare little place. The amount of trust she was placing in him
was enormous. Not only was she trusting in his belief that she wasn’t already
married; physically, emotionally, legally, she was giving herself to a man she
barely knew. At a time when she didn’t even know herself. No wonder she was
trembling.

He wanted to
sweep her up in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that he
would honor his vow to cherish her for the rest of his life. But then Father
Robert was asking for the marriage ring, and he drew in a deep, controlling
breath as he produced the ring that had belonged to his father. Made of gold,
heavily chased, the wide band was far too big for Annith’s small hand, but it
would do until he bought her something more fitting. She glanced at it, before
looking up at him as he pushed the heavy jewel onto her finger. He held it
there as Father Robert pronounced them man and wife, then he bent and kissed
her gently on the lips.

They knelt
together for the final blessing, and then he was helping Annith to her feet and
turning toward Martin and Herleve.

His earlier
doubts apparently put to rest, Father Robert smiled benignly as Herleve brushed
away sentimental tears.

Seeing them,
Annith smiled for the first time that morning. “Oh, Herleve,” she said, and
with a quick glance up at him, withdrew her hand from his and embraced the
older woman.

“Don’t mind me,”
he heard Herleve say, as Martin caught his attention.

“What is it?” he
asked quietly as they moved several paces away to speak privately. “Has someone
been asking about Annith already, at this hour?”

“Nay,” Martin
said in the same low tone. “But during the service just now something occurred
to me.”

“What?”

“My lord—”
Martin seemed to brace himself. “Do you intend this marriage to stand?”

Hugh’s brows
snapped together. “Of course I do. What the devil brought on that question?”

“I mean no
offence,” Martin assured him hurriedly. “But how binding is such a union when
Annith has married you under a name not her own? What if she was already
betrothed? She told us last night, after you left, of her doubts on that
score.”

“Ah.” Hugh’s
frown cleared. “She married me in good faith as Annith, so the marriage is
binding as far as that goes. She has been her own proxy, if you will. As for a
former betrothal, I doubt she would have spoken any such vow if the match was
distasteful to her. She may be gentle, but she’s not weak. ’Tis the most likely
reason she fled, rather than capitulate.”

Martin pursed
his lips as he considered. “Aye, that makes sense.”

“Good. And
praise God you didn’t leap up in the middle of the service and voice those
doubts. ’Twas difficult enough explaining matters to Father Robert without
giving him the entire story.”

Martin laughed
and they returned to the others. Hugh took heart at the way Annith turned to
him immediately. He held out his hand and, for the first time, she placed her
hand in his without hesitation.

“Let’s make our
farewells in the sunshine,” he said, and gesturing to Father Robert to lead the
way, they walked out to the bailey where his men were waiting with the horses.

*         
*          *

The small
procession left a few minutes later, Hugh in the lead on his black destrier
with Annith beside him on a rangy gray mare. The animal wasn’t the best-looking
horse in the castle stable, but she was rock-steady. Six men-at-arms, riding at
a discreet distance, brought up the rear, followed by two pack horses on
leading reins.

As the road
curved away from the town, and Herleve and Martin, still waving, vanished from
sight, Hugh cast an alert glance at Annith. He was keeping the pace to a walk,
and staying within touching distance, until she looked more at ease in the
saddle. He would need to react instantly if Annith couldn’t control her horse,
although it seemed that somewhere along the way, she’d been taught to ride.

“Riding must be
one of those skills that, once learned in childhood, is not forgotten,” she
remarked, echoing his thoughts.

He smiled at
her. “Indeed, but we don’t know when you were last on a horse, so tell me if
you need to rest.”

“I will,” she
said, glancing about her at the countryside. Men out early to plough in the
stalks left after the summer harvest caught her eye, before she was diverted by
a flock of birds flying in perfect formation above them. A smile lit her face
as she watched them out of sight.

Being out in the
open was still new to her, he realized. How long had she been locked away in
her cloister? It could have been years, and yet she’d had the courage to face
the outside world, alone, on foot, and without the means to buy food or
shelter. To escape…what?

Never again, he
swore silently, putting the question aside for the moment. Never again would
she be forced to such desperate measures. She was his wife; he would protect
her for the rest of their lives.

His wife.

Suddenly he was
shaken by a violent urge to sweep Annith out of her saddle and hold her close
against his heart. To kiss that sweet mouth until she was soft and yielding in
his arms, until she knew nothing except the insistent beat of desire. Tonight,
he promised himself. Tonight he would do all that and more.

And if he didn’t
stop thinking further ahead than the day, he was going to have a damned
uncomfortable ride to Worcester. He shifted cautiously in his saddle.

“Is something
amiss, my lord?” she asked with such innocence he had to laugh.

“Nay,” he said.
“I was just thinking that our wedding must have been nothing like a lady would
expect, and for that I ask your pardon. You’re still in the gown you borrowed
from Herleve, and I’m dressed for battle, barring the armor.”

“It matters
not,” she said, apparently unconcerned by their lack of wedding finery. He soon
discovered why when she sent him an uncertain glance. “Tell me… What will
happen when we reach Worcester?”

“Are you worried,
sweeting?” He reached out and laid his hand briefly over hers. “There’s no
need. The priory is only a mile or so beyond the town. I won’t leave you for
long.”

“I suppose you
think me foolish,” she murmured. “But ’tis awkward, talking to people when I
don’t remember who I am. And I
would
remember if I wasn’t such a coward
that I feel ill every time I try.”

“Banish that
thought immediately,” he ordered, deliberately stern. “Was it cowardice that
made you stand your ground when that mob of boys saw you? You knew if you’d
tried to run, some of them would have chased you down, especially given their
mood at the time. You’d have been unmasked immediately.”

He didn’t even
want to
think
about what might have happened then.

“Oh,” she said,
brightening. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Good,” he
muttered. “I’m glad one of us has.”

“What did you
say, my lord?”

“I said, you
won’t have to converse with a lot of people in Worcester.”

“But what will
you tell the Sheriff?”

“That you’ve
been ill, which God knows is nothing short of the truth, and that you will need
to retire as soon as we arrive. I wish you didn’t have to be confined,” he
added, sending her an apologetic look, “But ’tis safer for the moment.”

“Aye,” she said
with a small shiver. Then she tilted her head enquiringly. “Do you think they
would mind if I have a bath while you visit the priory?”

Hugh felt a slow
smile cross his face. He hoped the expression didn’t convey exactly what he was
thinking. That could come later, once Annith discovered where an intent smile
of male anticipation could take her.

“An excellent
notion, my sweet. Especially after riding several miles. Then you can rest.
When I return we’ll have a meal in our chamber and…talk.”

“Won’t the
Sheriff and his wife think it strange if we don’t eat with them?”

“Believe me, my
little innocent, when I tell them we were married only this morning, they would
think it strange if we did.”

“Oh. Well, you
know more about them than I do, my lord.”

“True. And ’tis good
to see that already you are a dutiful wife who abides by her husband’s
decisions.”

A delightful
gurgle of laughter greeted that pronouncement. “Well, I shall try. I remember
the nuns told us we must submit to our husbands in all things to do with marriage,
but—”

“An excellent
maxim,” he interrupted, before she could enter any qualifications. “I shall be
sure to remind you of it daily.”

“But, my lord,”
she said demurely, glancing up at him with the mischievous gleam that so
disarmed him. “I am sure that only yesterday you ordered me to rid my mind of
what the nuns said.”

Hugh burst out
laughing, and in a sudden light-hearted impulse—something he was certain would
dumbfound the entire escort behind them—set his horse prancing before urging
both steeds into a canter.

*         
*          *

They made good
time and arrived at Worcester before noon. Annith felt quite dizzy at the sight
of all the shops, the constantly shifting crush of people, the noise.
Fortunately, they entered through the gate nearest the castle and were soon
riding under the barbican and into the bailey. To their right the spire of
Worcester Cathedral soared toward the sky.

“The bailey used
to be twice this size,” Hugh told her. “But King Henry returned some of the
land to the Church. ’Tis not worth much now, but will serve our purpose.”

Annith looked
about her in some dismay. Worcester castle was clearly not used as a permanent
residence. Indeed, it looked more like a prison. But the man hailing Hugh from
the steps leading to the keep appeared friendly enough, even if his bellow
could have been heard all the way back in Crofton. Presumably this was the
Sheriff. She hoped his wife wasn’t prone to the same booming tones.

“Hugh! Bones of the
saints! What the devil are you doing in Worcester?”

Hugh dismounted
and lifted her down from the saddle before handing their reins to one of his
men. He grinned at the man striding toward them and went to meet him. Annith
watched, fascinated, as they clapped each other on the back in boisterous
greeting.

“Will! I thought
your father would be here. This is even better.”

“Why? What are
you up to? And who’s the little beauty with the huge eyes, watching us as if
she’s not sure ’tis safe to be here?”

Hugh laughed and
turned to draw Annith forward. “Sweetheart, this graceless rogue is Lord
William Beauchamp, the Sheriff’s son and a good friend of mine. Is Maud here,
Will, because I’d like you both to meet my wife.”

“What!” Will
roared, reeling back in mock surprise. Then, as Hugh narrowed his eyes at him,
he laughed and gave her an elegant bow. “Lady de Verney, welcome to Worcester
Castle. What’s left of it.”

The last words
were so rueful, Annith had to smile. “My lord,” she said, inclining her head.