Wicked (3 page)

Her gaze lit on him the moment she turned, a tall and richly clothed knight with a strong build and an unreadable face. She cocked her head and frowned. Odd, how she had felt his presence before she ever saw him.

She glanced back.

He stood a head above the milling crowd, his features partially hidden by the wavering shadows cast from a royal pennant that flew overhead. His arms were crossed so she could not read the design on his blue tabard.

She stepped up and onto a shallow wooden bucket someone had dropped nearby, pressing her ankles together and rising on her tiptoes just a bit so she could better see his face.

And see him she did!

The apple fell from her suddenly limp hand and plopped on the ground, forgotten.

The breeze died suddenly, as if the midday sun had upped and melted it away. The pennant hung still, its angled tip like a sign from God, an arrow that pointed directly to the knight’s dark head.

In the sudden brightness, his face showed clearly: strong, so deeply angular that the dark, icy shadows on his cheeks and creased brow looked as if even the sun itself was not bright enough to melt them.

Beneath a dark slash of thick brows, his gaze wandered lazily over the crowd. He looked bored, expectant, knowing, as if he had seen this all before and found it not to his refined taste. He wore his arrogance the same way warriors wore their colors, proudly and prominently, a challenge for anyone and everyone to dare not notice.

Sofia found this fascinating, having spent so much time watching grown men grovel at her feet and praise her fine features as if they had no pride at all.

She had truly thought most men were a sorry lot, until she had looked upon this man. He was not sorry in any way. In fact, she would wager her dowry that the word “sorry” never crossed his lips.

No. He surely would not grovel at her feet. Or anyone else’s feet from the look of him.

His gaze flitted around the crowd, ran over her and past her, then stopped, and he turned back for another look.

For the first time in her life she was grateful for the fine features that made men stare at her. She could feel this knight’s eyes on her, watching her closely, intently, for the longest time. The day grew even warmer as she stood there. The sun seemed to shine with more intensity. Her blood sped under her skin as if it were in the greatest hurry.

Then the oddest thing happened. Sofia suddenly wanted to disappear into the crowd. ’Twas unlike her, for she prided herself on the fact that she could face anyone’s stare with an icy coolness, without feeling any fear, even the King himself when he was furious with her.

But now, when this man looked at her, the skin on her arms prickled with gooseflesh and her lips grew dry from the quick breaths she took. Something inside of her belly crawled ’round and ’round and made her head feel light as if she had been dancing in circles for hours.

He was different; his look was different. For one thing he was young for a knight, perhaps eight and ten, but better than that was his expression. ’Twas not awe at her beauty that made him stare at her, for she knew that kind of look all too well.

No, it was as if he were trying to see inside her mind, right through to that place where she let no one in, that place where dwelt her hopes and secrets, her dreams and her fears, those thoughts no one knew but her.

Some part of her wanted to turn away so he could not see too much, but she knew if she did so then he would win this contest of cool looks. She would appear weak if she looked away first, and too, there was the fact that she truly wanted to keep looking at him in spite of what he made her feel. He was a handsome devil for all his cool and superior look.

He was also the first man who could make her feel something other than disgust in too many months to count.
He
would not grovel at her feet as other men had.

Men would seldom look at her face for very long; it seemed to have some odd ability to render the most confident and strongest of men into babbling idiots and bowing fools, their expressions rapt and rather like that of pilgrims who traveled the countryside for a glimpse of a miracle and had, to their surprise, suddenly found one.

Knights and lords and warriors looked at her and the next thing she knew they were at her feet, kissing her hem or other such foolishness. She could now spot most courtiers merely by the backs of their heads, since that was all she usually saw of them.

Her sheer stubbornness aided her well, for she refused to look away from this handsome man who made her burn inside. She played a coy game and smiled, a small smile, one she knew could and had sent men panting after her. A come-hither-you-fool kind of smile, but before she could gauge his reaction, someone called her name from behind her and made her blink. Still, she did not turn away.

Not first. She would not be the first to break this spell. ’Twas a challenge between them, one she would win. So she kept looking at him, smiling that barest of smiles.

He cocked his head slightly. Curious, or perhaps giving her something more than a mere challenge.

The stage players began to sing a loud and bawdy song, typical of the Miracle Plays, and the crowd around her cheered, then shifted suddenly, moving forward to catch pennies the actors were throwing from the stage. She was jostled and jabbed and lost her balance. But when her feet hit solid ground, she was still craning her neck to keep up the staring game with the wonderfully intriguing knight.

She used her elbows to try to move back where she could see, jabbing at the crush of bodies swallowing her. But it did no good. She could not see him even when she jumped up and down; there was nothing before her but a mass of bobbing heads.

The song ended and the Miracle Players took their numerous bows. The crowd cheered and applauded and called out to them to do more skits.

God in heaven above . . . no more
, she prayed, still wedging her way through the crowd.

’Twas the first prayer God had answered in months. Suddenly those actors turned and skipped off the stage like leaping lords, the ones warbled about by minstrels during the Twelve Nights of Christmas. The crowd calmed down, then finally moved back and broke up, heading for the amusements of the jugglers and booms. Finally, she could see across the lists. But by then, the knight was gone.

Chapter 2

“Sofia!”

She turned around at the familiar sound of her friend’s frantic voice.

“Wait!” Lady Edith ran so quickly to catch up with her that her golden chaplet slipped down into her eyes and the thin veil that covered the back of her hair came unpinned and drifted behind her and onto the ground.

Bright red curls fell into her friend’s eyes. Edith stopped suddenly as if blinded by those bouncing curls, patting her head for a moment, then she frowned, turned and looked down as a group of wild lads trampled over her thin and proper veil. She picked up the small, square swatch of saffron-colored silk, then shook it out, chewing on her lower lip in a moment of indecision.

Even from a short distance Sofia could see the footprints; it was ruined.

Edith looked up at her, caught her gaze, then shrugged and tossed the veil over her shoulder as if it were a chicken bone. With both hands, she grabbed the gold chaplet that crowned her head in such a cockeyed manner and shoved it back down over her flaming hair and brow as she scurried to catch up to Sofia. Her breath was swift and short when she came alongside.

“You missed the dancing, Sofia!”

“There will be more dancing after supper.” Sofia looked left, then right. Where was he?

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I am in no hurry.” Sofia slowed her steps to a saunter, but she still could not keep from watching the crowd for a glimpse of a sky-blue tabard.

“I thought you were going to stay in the tower all day to annoy the King.”

“I changed my mind. I decided I could be more annoying down here among the throngs.”

Lady Edith frowned at her, then followed her searching gaze. “Who
are
you looking for?”

“Looking for?” Sofia whipped her head back around and gave her as innocent a look as she could muster. “Me?” She paused. “Why, you of course!”

She linked her arm with Edith’s, forced herself to look straight ahead and smiled brightly when she added, “See this huge crush of people here today? I was afraid I would never find you. There was so little room I could not even get near the booth where they sold honeyed figs and dates.” Sofia paused. “Can you imagine?

“I am famished!” she went on. “’Tis hard work to call down dire curses upon Edward’s golden and hard head.” She looked away from Edith’s stern face and added fiercely, “Now do not look at me so, he deserved those curses!”

“I do not know if I should be envious of your sheer courage or happy I am not so foolhardy.”

“That is because Edward does not make your life miserable. You are fortunate to have a brother who cares about you.”

“The King cares greatly about you, Sofia.”

“Aye. It amuses him to destroy my life.” Sofia kept watching the crowd for the man. When she saw nothing, she tugged on Edith’s arm. “Come along. The races will be starting soon. We shall go first to the date seller’s booth. I will pay.” She grinned and patted the small silk purse that hung from her belt. “I still have all my coins from Candlemas, the ones Edward gave me to be silent during the wrestling match between his man and Lord Giles.”

Edith groaned. “I still cannot believe that you actually called the King’s champion puny, a man who had no more strength than the fleas on the kitchen hounds. Sofia, the man is huge.”

“A veritable giant.” Sofia was still smiling. “With an ego as big as his ham-sized hands.”

Edith shivered and muttered, “I have not the courage to do such foolhardy things.”

“’Tis not foolhardy, but necessary, Edith. And I shall continue to speak for myself whenever I feel I must.”

Edith shook her head, her expression a mix of awe and envy. “’Twas a foolish thing to test the King so.”

“Not too foolish, for I left the Great Hall that night with five coins tucked inside my shoe. Two golden marks from Edward and three pieces of silver from my wager with Sir Lowell.”

Edith stopped so suddenly it was almost as if she had hit a wall. “You placed a wager?”

“Aye. On the opponent.”

Edith quickly made the sign of the cross.

“Why should I not place a wager?”

“But it is a sin.”

“That did not stop Bishop Culbert and Father John from betting,” Sofia added in a wry tone. “Just because we, you and I, happened to have had the vile misfortune to be born women should not mean we cannot have the same amusements as do men.”

“Of course we cannot. We are not men. We do not have their strength and power—”

“If you say their sharpness of mind, I will leave you here and now.”

“Well, even I would not go that far, but Sofia, you go on as you have been and you are asking for something terrible to happen. Truly. The King will not let you keep pushing him. He cannot like it. Even Eleanor will not be able to speak for you if you keep this up. What if he gets truly frustrated with you and marries you off to someone awful like . . . like . . . ” She lowered her voice and whispered with horror, “Like Lord Alfred?”

Alfred De Bain was a lecherous man of five and forty, with hands the size of oxen and small, beady, brown eyes that promised cruelty. He had one and twenty children and had buried seven wives, and none of his offspring ever made it to the ripe old age of fifteen.

“If Edward tried to fob me off on someone horrid, I would stab myself in the heart, damn my soul forever, and then spend eternity haunting him.”

“You should never jest about taking your own life. ’Tis a mortal sin.”

“Who is jesting?”

At that, Edith was quiet.

Too quiet for Sofia. Edith was her true friend and her sudden silence bothered Sofia in a way she was not comfortable with. A little nagging voice of doubt flickered through her mind. “Edward knows I would do something horrid. Have I not been able to outwit every man Edward has tried to thrust upon me?”

Edith gave Sofia an odd look and said softly, “I think that someday you will meet a man who is quicker witted than you. Someone who will not run from your schemes and jibes.”

“Good, then at least I will not be plagued by boredom.” But she did not say what she was feeling, that she knew the truth: that men left you.

“Perhaps you should have wed Lord Geoffrey,” Edith was saying. “He is very wealthy.”

“Lord Geoffrey is dull as toast. He is not someone I could ever love, Edith.” Her voice trailed off and she looked at her friend and confessed, “With every suitor, I would try to imagine being in his arms. Being kissed and held. But I could never imagine being with any man without wanting to think of something,
anything
else.”

“But you keep claiming that you will make your own destiny. Could you not make it as easily with someone who wants only you, someone like Lord Geoffrey?”

She shook her head. “If I ever wed—and I am not saying I shall—I want excitement in my marriage.”

Edith stared at her as if she had grown another head.

“What is wrong with that? My life is quiet enough now. I could never abide it if my marriage were just as dull. I would rather become a nun.” She paused, then added, more to herself than to her friend, “Except Edward says they will not take me as a novice in any convent in the country.”

Edith covered her mouth with a hand and tried to stifle a giggle.

“Just what has you so amused?”

“What you said.” Edith kept laughing.

“I do not find it one bit amusing that I should want some excitement in my life.”

Edith kept laughing.

Sofia frowned at her, then planted her hands on her hips, tapped her foot and awaited an answer while Edith was in fits of silly laughter.

“First of all you cannot become a nun,” Edith said, swallowing her laughter. “The Church could not take it. And you must know the King would never let your huge dowry go to the Church. And finally and most importantly, no marriage of yours would ever be dull. Not with you, Sofie. It wouldn’t dare!”