Townsend, Lindsay - The Snow Bride (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (39 page)

His fierce love for her and utter pride in her were both sweeter than balm, and more warming. He had not scolded her for yelling, nor berated her for her horror, and now he kept his arms wrapped snugly around her.

Around them, the men busied themselves by passing round the flasks of ale and mead. Elfrida sat for a moment longer in quiet, watching the fire and waiting for her heartbeat to grow steady.

“He does not truly know me, Magnus,” she said at length.

“Or me, and that will work for us.
”
He signed the sign of the cross gently over her breast and then firmly over his heart.
“
I promise you now, he shall never hurt you again. He shall never touch you again, be he one or a thousand.”

She believed him.

* * * *

When he was a squire, Magnus had called the waiting, watchful time before any attack, charge, or battle “graveyard time.” Just before a battle, he felt like a corpse on the point of burial—everything was over but the final rites. He would check his weapons and horse, listen for danger, feel the wind on his face, and know that for the moment he could do nothing.

As a knight, his attitude had changed. His graveyard time had become “the enemy’s,” with the opposition fluttering and lost before he dispatched them into hell. He felt an iron certainty and savored the brief peace before the tumult.

Now matters had changed again, because of Elfrida. In any forthcoming strife, her safety was paramount. And she would insist on riding with him. She would never stay behind, not with her sister in danger. Once, he might have knocked her out, as he had done with Walter, and let her scold after, when he had returned with Christina. He had learned better since their first meeting.

If I do that, I will lose her afterwards. She would never trust me again, and with good reason. I promised her she would be my equal, and here is where I must make good that vow. She expects to come, as is her right—it is her sister who is captive! She would say I need her, too, and maybe she is right there, for I am no necromancer.

But it is so hard!

She was so brave and loyal and knightly in all her ways. He adored her for her courage and loved her for her caring. The gruesome dread of her being harmed in any way burned in his guts.

I cannot lose her. Nothing will matter if I lose her.

He looked down at her, half dozing on his lap. He traced the small veins on her throat, watching the tender pulse in her neck. He relished the way her small, supple body fitted against his. Her youth’s clothes amused him, since he had heard tales of lasses running to war after their soldier sweethearts, and here in his arms was his own girl-warrior, sleeping. No, he was mistaken, she was praying, her words a whisper, meant for the saints and spirits.

Her battle preparation
.
Is it not time for you to do yours, Magnus?

He kissed the top of her head and began to check his weapons.

Sharpening his knives, he heard a single shout and knew the scout had returned. The young man, a squire, was spurring his horse and leaning low over its neck, eager to share his news.

“Pie,” said Elfrida incomprehensibly, clicking her tongue in apparent satisfaction. With her eyes wide and her head held high, she looked as excited as the rapidly closing squire.

Pie? I suppose she means Baldwin
.

As one, he and Elfrida rose together to hear what
Baldwin
had to say.

Chapter 29

Pie, revealed as
Baldwin
, was an excellent spy, Elfrida realized with a good deal of surprise. Having known him only as a young man intent on food, she was startled to find he was an able rider and a careful watcher. He described the stone tower he had ridden to in great detail, all the while assuring Magnus that he had not been spotted.

“There were rooks and ravens roosting in the trees about the tower, and none of them raised any warning cries,”
Baldwin
said, speaking slowly when he realized that Magnus was translating for her. “I dismounted over a bowshot’s length back from the tower and crept closer on foot to make certain no man or beast saw me. I would swear on a wall of bibles that no one saw me come or go.”

“Any tracks leading out of there going south to the wooden tower?” Magnus asked, guessing that question would be foremost in her mind.

“None recent for sure, my lord. The place is hip deep in snow, and no rider or man seems to have set foot in it.”

Elfrida let out a long breath, daring to hope more strongly for Christina. Joseph Denzil’s tools of magic seemed to be within the wooden tower, and he would surely need to take her sister there for any final ritual.
Unless I am mistaken and he has another plan entirely.

“How are you certain it is Joseph’s tower?” Magnus asked, translating his question to her, so she would know everything.

Baldwin
smiled broadly, showing a chipped tooth. “The entrance door is of stout oak and strong, new, bronze nails—”

“Bronze?” Magnus interrupted in tones of deep suspicion.

“I believe so.”

Magnus turned to her. “Why bronze?”

“It is not iron,” Elfrida said simply. “Remember what I told you, that iron is for Christ?”

Magnus nodded once, sharply, then motioned to
Baldwin
to continue. “Is there more?”

“Indeed there is more, my lord—my lady,” he added, bowing to her.

“Say on,
Baldwin
,” said Magnus, clearly impatient with all this courtesy.

“Ah, yes, my lord, well, truth to tell, the door was painted over with several knightly devices and symbols, all very bright.” He counted off on his gloved fingers. “The letters J and D. A golden circle and flower on the right-hand side of the door, a silver circle and a pearl depicted on the left-hand side of the door, and above all a five-pointed star.”

Elfrida saw the painted door in the eye of her mind, and the roosting rooks, the squat stone tower hung about with ice and moss. She saw the great door opening in answer to her wishes, the snow spilling to either side.

“We have him,” Magnus hissed, breaking the spell of her thoughts. “Who else could it be?”

He clapped
Baldwin
so hard on the shoulder that the lad swayed, and then he beckoned to the others. Seeing him energized, ready to move, Elfrida sent a heartfelt wish that he look at her. When he did so, she drew him aside from the busy throng of squires and soldiers, some brushing down their horses, some stamping out the fire, others sinking a last draft of mead.

“Yes, lass?” Magnus asked, leaning against a fallen oak.

“I have a suggestion.” Elfrida stopped, hesitating. She did not want to say “plan” in case Magnus thought she was taking over the attack, but she was encouraged when he nodded.

“If we go like
Baldwin
and travel carefully, without alarming man or beast—”

“Or bird,” Magnus put in, grinning. “Aye, go on, Elfrida, I am listening.”

“If we reach the stone tower, then you could go on alone, right to the main entrance.” She stopped when Magnus raised his black eyebrows, but he still smiled and listened, so after a breath she went on, “You could be a traveler, lost in the forest, who collapses within sight of possible shelter.”

“I ride almost to his doorway and pitch off into the snow? And why should a man like Joseph care? Would he not leave me to freeze?”

“But if he thinks you are worth a ransom?”

She waited, her fingernails clawing into her own palms, as Magnus assessed the risks. “We know he is arrogant,” she added. “And the spices he has are all costly, so you as a rich traveler might prove a tempting prize.”

Magnus glanced at her shrewdly. “There is more to this, Elfrida. Your idea has worth, but I sense you are keeping something back.”

“But you think that would draw him out, as you yourself suggested?”

He gave a rumble of laughter. “Yes, I think it could, but come, Elfrida, spit out the rest! You are trying too hard to ease
me
.”

She clasped her hands to stop herself wildly gesturing. She gulped in a long breath, praying her voice would not crack. She had to be calm, focused as a burning lens. Feeling her amulet for luck rocking gently between her breasts, she began.

“If, as you say, it would work for you, Magnus, would it not also work for me? I could be a traveler, lost in the forest. A female, red-haired traveler.”

She lowered her head and braced herself for his reaction.

* * * *

She undoes me by my own arguments! Magnus thought.
I have already partly agreed to this wild plan with me as the stricken traveler, so why is it worse if she takes my place? If I say, “You are a woman,” she will answer that it makes the plan more perfect, or something like it.

“It will be dangerous,” he said, then regretted the weak response. When had danger put her off?

“Surely there will be less danger,” she gabbled, still staring down at her feet. “He is obsessed with finding a redhead, and there I will be.”

“Will he not find that too convenient?”

“Not if I allow him to discover what I am.”

“We have no women’s garb.” He snatched at the excuse, pleased with it.

“Surely that is better, my lord? If I am a lone traveler, would I not dress as a man?”

“And if he sticks an arrow in you before he realizes you are a girl?” Magnus growled.

“When I pretend to swoon, I will allow my hair to tumble loose.”

“Always an answer,” Magnus muttered, wondering why he was even entertaining this ridiculous notion. “He may assault you.”

He felt her shiver and knew she was thinking of her nightmare. “I am not helpless,” she said stiffly.

“No you are not, and I will move against him, but the threat is there.”

“He will want to take me inside first.”

“And if he does not? Would you risk rape?” he asked gently.

She shuddered but spoke strongly, “You say yourself it will not come to that, and we must get in! I must find Christina!”

“How long will you have to lie upon the snow?” Magnus demanded, knowing it was impossible to persuade Elfrida against her sister’s welfare. “An hour, two, a day?”

She shook her head impatiently. “Why should it be for long? He will not consider me a threat, and we shall draw him out.”

“Why is that important, drawing him out? If he is one man, I can take him down easily, and if he has men, it is still no great matter.”

“Yes, sir, but within his castle, his home?”

Magnus clamped his teeth together on the obvious retort that why should that matter? He was remembering the last time he had disregarded Elfrida’s warnings and lumbered into an attack of the wooden tower. His hasty charge had made more problems, which his witch had been forced to work hard to solve.

And Joseph is another just like her
.

He was aware of a strange, new idea, hovering slightly out of reach of his thoughts. As a warrior he relied on his wits, strength, horse, and weapons. Places were important as refuges and shelters, to be defended or attacked, but no castle ever slid off its own motte and lurched into the fray.