The Warrior's Wife (9 page)

That teased a scornful snort from Rafe. Sir Warin would be lucky to keep his seat for a single run when they faced each other. The joust and its prize, a purse filled with three marks’ worth of pence, was one of the reasons Rafe had teased Gerard into inviting him. Winning the joust wouldn’t hurt his career should he truly decide to leave the king’s service. He smiled to himself. Once he’d taken that purse Kate would have no doubt who was the better man, the man worthy of all her smiles.

“Then,” the boy went on, “the knight asked the lady to meet him at dawn the day of the jousting outside Haydon’s postern so she might give him her ribbon to wear.”

Rafe’s full attention snapped back onto the child. “He asked her that? Nay, you misheard them. Your French is so poor you’ve translated wrongly.”

“I did not,” the lad protested, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Ashes from the fire spread a dark streak across his cheek. “I speak your tongue as well as any man, sir. I heard him tell the lady that her sire would be busy arming himself and have no time to watch where she went. The lady, she seemed like she didn’t really want to meet with him, but said him aye nonetheless.”

That sounded too much like Kate’s behavior at the picnic to be wrong. Rafe’s eyes narrowed. May God damn that bitch’s son. He still meant to misuse Kate’s innocence. Untouched as she was, Kate didn’t know that she should tell the lecher nay.

Gratitude swelled in him. He thanked God he’d had the coin to buy this child’s ear. Now he knew both when and where de Dapifer meant to make his attempt. Kate wouldn’t be left alone to fend off the wolf.

“You did well, boy,” he told the lad, reaching out to tousle the child’s brown hair. “What say you? Shall I pay you for keeping your eye upon the knight for me? You’ll report to me everything he does and says about the lady and their doings. Consider yourself my servant for the remaining eight days of the wedding. Heed me on this though, for I’ll only pay you if you tell no man or woman what you do on my behalf.”

The thought of eight pence all his own made the boy’s eyes gleam. He bowed low. “Your servant, loyal and true, good sir. My tongue, yours to command,” he said, then scampered off into the hall.

Rafe laughed. The lad had expensive ideas about loyalty.

 

Laughing, Kate leaned low over the neck of her horse as she raced with the others through the trackless woodland. Trees streamed along at either side of her, the light through the verdant canopy in joyous flux between sun and shadow. The smells of sweating horses and summer filled her every breath. Men shouted, their voices echoing through the ferny hills and lush dales. Lymers yipped in excitement as they coursed after the prey they’d been bred to hunt. Not too far from Kate, the old countess whooped.

“The buck lodges!” someone called from the head of the pack.

“Faster! He’s cornered!” Ami shouted to her, spurring her own mount to an even headier pace.

“I come,” Kate cried in reply, digging her knees into the hunter her father had brought to Haydon for her use.

Although she’d never before ridden Pelerin, her sire had assured her the gelding was an amenable mount, given to great bouts of speed and owning the endurance of a hart. Now Pelerin proved his master no liar. He sprang into a breathtaking sprint, shooting past Ami’s smaller palfrey.

Knees tight, Kate drew him to a halt amid the milling crowd of horses gathered at the edge of a steep drop. Below the mounted gentlefolk, the hillside was thick with trees, brush and bracken, the foliage close enough to deter a sensible rider. Men and women alike groaned as the buck galloped out of the concealing growth at the bottom of the hill, as unreachable as heaven.

“He wasn’t lodged,” the countess shouted. “Look at those antlers! He’s an oldster, like me, warned and wary. Poor Lord Haydon,” she called to their host. “You paid the king a fortune for the right to hunt yon creature, and now we’ll never catch him.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sir Josce FitzBaldwin bellowed, and spurred his horse over the edge. Haunches low and forelegs stiff, his mount slid downward to disappear into the trees.

Sir Josce’s idiocy must have been contagious. In the next instant the horner went over the edge, his instrument lifted to his lips as he called everyone to follow. A goodly number of the hunters, Kate’s sire and Warin included, did as he bade, their horses slipping rather than running down the hill. Dogs seethed along in their wake. Within an instant, nothing remained of those foolhardy souls save the sounds of excited barking and the crash and thrash of horses through the underbrush.

Among the more sensible folk remaining at the hill’s crest, chaos reigned. Some turned their mounts to the right, others to the left, depending on their perception of which was the shorter way down. Horses snorted and cried in complaint.

In the crush someone’s mount nipped Pelerin’s hindquarter. He bucked in reaction. Caught off guard, Kate dropped her bow to clutch his reins and calm him. As Pelerin settled, his forehooves touched down on the wrong side of the hill’s edge. Already loosened by those who’d gone before, the earth gave way beneath his weight. With no more choice than a stone Pelerin started into a headlong descent, thundering down through the thick growth.

Kate had no breath for screaming. Every ounce of her was focused on keeping her seat. Sharp holly tore at her gowns, scraping her legs where sitting astride left them bare. Twiggy branches poked and pried. An old oak stole her cap, while a leggy hawthorne tried to yank one plait off her head.

Pelerin screamed. Kate’s world whirled then came to a breathless stop as she met the ground with stunning impact. Gasping, she lay where she fell.

Through the branches above her a herd of woolly clouds was making its way across the vastness of the sky. The rich smell of damp woodland rose from the ground beneath her. Last year’s leaves felt velvety-soft against her cheek.

From too far away came the shouts of the hunters. The horn was a distant blare. A moment later and the sounds faded. One after another, birds began to chirp as the woodland reclaimed its noisy peace.

A whole new concern jolted through Kate. God save her, she was alone in an unfamiliar wood filled with who knew what sort of threats. The sooner she regained the hunting party, the better for her. Drawing a deep breath, she sat up and moved her arms, then her legs. There’d be bruises tonight, but everything worked.

From behind her Pelerin snorted and blew, the sound distressed. Secure in her own well-being, Kate rose to look to her mount. The horse stood beneath the orderly branches of a beech, favoring his foreleg, while his head hung. Clucking in dismay, Kate went to him. Tucking her gloves into her belt, she ran her hands down his leg then snorted at herself. All that told her was that if there was a break, she couldn’t feel it.

From the hilltop above her, something large thrashed in the bracken. The woodland creatures dropped into an eerie silence. Saddle leather squeaked. Bridle rings jingled. Vegetation crunched.

Dread started through Kate. Even though she told herself it was likely one of the king’s foresters following after the hunters to see to stragglers, thoughts of thieves and brigands churned. Adele said a woman alone without the company of her menfolk or trusted male servants faced a horrible and debauched death.

Slipping around Pelerin, she stood between horse and beech so his bulk concealed her. As if such a thing would buy her more than a moment’s safety! The thrashing drew nearer.

“Slowly, my lad,” Rafe Godsol said, his voice echoing oddly in the silent forest. “Have a care where you step.”

Kate smiled, so deep was her relief. Coming around Pelerin, she watched Rafe bring his mount to a halt near hers. Oh but he looked fine, indeed, even dressed as he had been yesterday, in a green hunting tunic with tall boots gartered to his legs. His leather hauberk had been mended after her sire’s attack. Today, his hunting bow jutted up over his left shoulder.

Something warm, deep and oh-so-pleasant stirred in Kate. A part of her longed for another of those wondrous kisses, wrong though it might be. Who could have known that a mere press of lips to her hand might set her on fire?

“How did you know I was here?” she asked in an attempt to distract herself from her inappropriate thoughts. It didn’t work. Instead, all Kate could think was that Rafe watched her because he loved her.

He smiled at her. “I saw your poor beastie make his dash over the edge. From the look on your face, I guessed it wasn’t planned.”

Rafe made a show of eyeing her up and down then reached out to dislodge a clump of forest floor from her shoulder. “You look only a little worse for your wild ride.”

That made Kate laugh. “Wild it was,” she replied, leaning down to brush in earnest at her leafy and torn skirts. When she was done she sent a wry smile his way. “There was even a brief moment of flight, which came to a jarring end. Fortunately, nothing’s broken, even though I’ll soon have bruises on my backside to match those on my pride.”

“Brave lass to make so little of such an experience.” Approval glowed in Rafe’s eyes then his face softened. “God be praised you weren’t hurt.”

Why the simple expression on his face might make her want to wrap her arms around him was beyond Kate, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do. She did her best to slaughter the urge. When it refused to die she turned to pat Pelerin’s neck, hoping that out of sight might be out of mind.

“Would that I could say the same for my horse,” she said, speaking to Pelerin’s mane. “There’s something amiss with his leg.”

Leaving his own mount, Rafe stripped off his gloves and squatted to cradle her horse’s foreleg in his hands. The gelding shuddered and shifted at his touch. “Nay, now, sweet Pelerin,” Rafe said, reaching up to stroke the horse’s shoulder. “It’s only me, Rafe. You remember me, do you not?”

Surprise drove even the inappropriate thoughts from Kate’s mind. She frowned at Rafe. “How would you know this horse when he belongs to my sire?”

Still holding Pelerin’s leg Rafe looked up at her. There was a touch of bitterness in his gaze. “Your sire hasn’t always owned him. Pelerin was bred and born in Long Chilting’s stables. I’ve ridden him myself while home from court on visits. Four years ago, your lord father or some other Daubney stole him from us. I think your sire got less than he expected, for Pelerin had been gelded the month before he was taken.”

His words stirred an uncomfortable sensation in Kate. She didn’t much like the thought of her noble sire as a horse thief. It didn’t help that she only now remembered Rafe saying that her sire had killed his. Then again, a Godsol had killed her brother. She tried to feel some outrage over her sibling’s death, but there was nothing. She’d barely known her brother; he was but a lad of two when her sire had sent her from Bagot.

Rafe came back to his feet a moment later with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s broken, but I fear he’ll bear you no more this day, my lady,” he said.

Although his verdict was no different from what Kate expected, disappointment ran deep. “Oh, fie,” she cried softly, even as she gave Pelerin’s ears a good scrubbing so he’d know it wasn’t him she blamed. “The day has just begun, and I was so looking forward to the hunt.”

Now, rather than enjoying hours and hours of Ami’s companionship Kate would be making the long walk back to Haydon with some servant as her escort. Haydon would be interminably lonely before the rest of the party returned. Selfish tears stung her eyes. She leaned her head against Pelerin’s neck to hide them from Rafe.

“If it pleases you my lady, I’ll lead Pelerin back to Haydon in your stead. You may use my mount for the remainder of the day.” His words were heartfelt, making his offer more than simple courtesy.

Kate leaned back from her horse to look at Rafe. There was naught but a desire to do what pleased her in his face. Sweet tendrils worked their way into Kate’s heart. Here was proof that Rafe harbored affection for her. Only a man in love would trade away his own pleasure in favor of his lady. The need to hear of his affection grew apace with her joy, although she had no choice but to refuse his offer.

“Would that I could,” Kate replied with a sigh, “but somehow I’m certain my lord father wouldn’t much like to see me astride your horse, even if you’re nowhere to be found.”

As if he’d forgotten her sire’s hatred for the Godsols, Rafe winced. “About yesterday,” he said, his voice low. “I beg your forgiveness for approaching you as I did. I meant only to do right by you. Instead, I left you open to harm. I pray no hurt came to you because of my actions.”

Here was more proof of Rafe’s feelings for her. That river of feeling again welled in Kate’s heart. She went eddying along in its current until she was fair giddy. How she longed to tell Rafe she approved, hopeless though his love might be. She dared not. On this point the rules of chaste love that Adele had taught her were very clear. There could be no word from a lady to a knight about such things until that knight had professed his adoration for said lady. Even after he had, the lady dare not do much more than acknowledge his devotion with pretty sighs and longing looks.

Frustration gnawed at Kate’s heart. Rules, always rules. She wouldn’t be alone with Rafe for long. Surely, Ami or someone else would miss her and come seeking her. With time so limited, how was she supposed to win his admission of love?

“No harm came to me,” she said, only just catching herself before she thanked him for his honorable behavior the previous day. To do so would insult him, since it suggested she’d expected otherwise. “As for my forgiveness, it’s given.”

“What?” he asked with a quick laugh. “So freely does a Daubney forgive a Godsol? Best you never tell your lord sire of this moment. With the animus between our families I doubt he’d approve of your generosity.”

“Of that there is no doubt,” Kate replied in impatience. That awful feud. It stood like a wall between her and the confession she wanted Rafe to make. “About this hatred between our families. What caused it?” she asked.

Rafe’s brows raised as surprise filled his dark eyes. “You don’t know?”

Kate gave a lift of her shoulders. “I suppose I did once, but I’ve long since forgotten it,” she replied truthfully.

The silence that followed lengthened until the sparrows went back to chirping. Rafe’s face was the picture of consideration. While he pondered his answer, he scrubbed at the narrow line of his beard. At last, he gave a shrug. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, but remember this is the tale from the Godsol side of the line.

“Some three score years ago, a Daubney stole one of my ancestresses, an heiress, and forced her into marriage with him. That Daubney had as his friend old King Henry, God rest him, our own king’s sire. King Henry was just then coming onto his throne. Thinking to secure his grip on his new realm, old Henry worked to make an ally of every man he could. For that reason did he confirm the Daubney’s forced wedding as legitimate. Once the Daubney thief added our Glevering to his other properties, he had wealth enough to justify old Henry naming him baron. And that is why a Daubney is now Lord Bagot while we Godsols go wanting half of what should be ours.”

Stunned, Kate stared at him. “Glevering became part of my dowry upon my brother’s death,” she said, her voice quiet. Aye, but it was stolen no less than Pelerin was. “If the tale you tell is true, then why haven’t your family or your ancestors sued to reclaim Glevering from my kin?”