A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (17 page)

Florence.

They’d had several unpleasant encounters over the last few days and Alyna expected nothing less from this one. The woman was always picking a fight.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Florence asked, a condescending smile upon her lips. “The lady of the manor doing a little gardening? How quaint. I see you even donned your peasant attire for the task.”

“What do you want, Florence?” She continued to weed, not bothering to look at her or stand to address her with courtesy.

“Why, I want for nothing, Alyna. Haven’t you yet observed that?”

Alyna’s snort may have been unladylike, but she truly didn’t care.

Her face tight with anger, Florence said, “Do you think to enter Lord Blackwell’s good graces by cleaning his keep?”

Alyna stopped weeding. Was it so wrong to want her grandfather to need her?

Florence continued on, apparently aware she’d hit a nerve. “Servants are for cleaning. Ladies are for beauty and pleasure, but I can see why you try to compensate for your lack of talent in those areas by trying to excel as a steward. Besides, I specifically told you to consult me if you needed any of the servants.”

Anger drove her upright despite her fear that Florence spoke the truth. “I do not answer to you, Florence. If you don’t care for what I do, discuss it with my grandfather.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” She took a step closer. “How I pity you. Perhaps someday a man will come along who’s willing to offer for someone with your questionable looks. Of course, with that boy hanging on your skirts, ’tis not likely, is it?”

As Florence spoke, she carelessly trampled the patch of herbs Alyna had so diligently tended. Her comments had the same effect on Alyna’s emotions as on the tender plants. Alyna was not about to let Florence know that. Her father had often told her she was no beauty. She didn’t need to be reminded of it. And what harm could come from endearing herself to her grandfather with a little hard work? From being helpful and contributing to where she presently lived?

“Beauty will fade with time, Florence. Surely someone of your own maturity is already noting that fact. Perhaps you should’ve accepted an offer some time ago before the affects of time were so evident.” Alyna warmed to the topic. “Oh, but perhaps you didn’t receive any offers. That would certainly explain your presence in my grandfather’s home. Now get off those plants.”

From Florence’s gasp of outrage, Alyna was certain her aim had hit its mark.

With a huff, Florence flounced back into the keep. While Alyna was ashamed of her own behavior, she refused to dwell on it. She hoped Florence had learned she was not an easy target. ’Twas a shame she had no cowslip flowers to calm Florence. It seemed the woman was always in an overexcited state. Alyna bent down to repair the damaged plants as best she could, trying her best to put the unpleasant encounter out of her mind.

***

Royce knocked on the chamber door, reluctant to disturb Lord Blackwell so late at night, but the news he’d received left him no choice. “My lord?” he called out softly, “’tis Royce.”

After a brief pause, Blackwell answered, “Enter.”

Royce heard the concern in his lord’s voice. Someone at the door in the middle of the night was never a good thing. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. A lone candle provided meager light and revealed Blackwell as he sat up in the large bed, his brow furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but a messenger has arrived.”

“What news does he have?”

“Not good I’m afraid. An attempt has been made on Lord Pimbroke’s life.”

Blackwell closed his eyes. Royce well knew that hearing his liege lord’s life was in danger was disturbing. “He yet lives?”

“Aye, but it sounds like it was a near miss. The messenger awaits you in the great hall.”

Blackwell threw back the covers and stood. “We can’t take any chances. If Pimbroke is killed, our cause could be lost.”

“True, but this could be a trap, an attempt to force us to reveal ourselves.”

“We will proceed with caution, but action must be taken. I’ll leave at once,” said Blackwell as he drew on a tunic and chausses.

“My lord, I would ask that you let me go in your place. The danger is too high. We can’t risk losing you.”

Lord Blackwell put his hand on Royce’s shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but ’tis I who must speak with Pimbroke. He is my liege lord and while this information will be difficult to believe coming from me, coming from you...” He shook his head.

“It would sound implausible.” Yet Royce was loathe to have Blackwell make a hurried trek in the middle of the night when danger was so near. “Mayhap if I took your seal? Surely he’d believe me then.”

“Nay, Royce. It’s time for me to tell him what we know, or at the very least, suspect. I must gain his trust in this matter. If I fail to do so, not only will Tegmont keep Larkspur, but others will be in danger as well.”

Royce was reluctant to agree, but saw Blackwell’s logic.

“Let’s hear what other details the messenger can provide. The more we know, the stronger our position,” Blackwell said.

Once again, Royce was grateful he’d found Blackwell. Without his support, Royce would be in no position to challenge his uncle.

CHAPTER TEN

“Waybread applied to the skin

promotes healing of sores and wounds.”

Lady Catherine’s Herbal Journal

Alyna sat near the window of her chamber, her eyes focused on the needlework she attempted to complete, her mind focused on anything but.

A gentle breeze from the open window filled the chamber with fresh spring air and drew her gaze away from her work. If she leaned forward a bit, she could see the men-at-arms and knights who trained outside, their swords and shields flashing in the afternoon sun. The yard rang with the sound of metal striking metal and the men grunting with their efforts, some shouting encouragement, and others shouting reprimands.

With a heavy sigh, Alyna turned back to her needlework. The gray thread had tangled and knotted as surely as her thoughts. She studied the dark strands, certain she should’ve chosen a different color. This one reminded her too much of Royce’s eyes, the blue-gray of storm clouds.

Royce wasn’t the only reason for her confused thoughts. She’d awakened that morning determined to speak with her grandfather regarding the questions that had burned in her mind since Royce had taken her. She’d ventured into the hall early, but none of the servants had seen him since the night before. At last she’d found one who had told her that he’d left before daybreak and wouldn’t return for several days.

Alyna was disappointed and hurt that he’d said nothing to her of a trip last night when they’d conversed during supper. She’d nearly made an excuse to be absent from the meal as she grew tired of listening to Florence’s subtle digs. The improvements Alyna had made annoyed the woman to no end as had Blackwell’s approval of the changes.

However, Alyna had no intention of allowing Florence to gain any advantage over her, especially with her grandfather. Their relationship was too new, and Alyna knew it couldn’t bear the weight of disapproval. She needed more time to prove her worth to him.

She hadn’t felt prepared to face Royce either, but decided she wasn’t willing to hide like a mouse in a corner. Though she’d thought long and hard about how she should act with Royce, she’d come up with nothing clever, other than acting as though the kiss they’d shared had affected her little. Ha! That would be no easy task. Just thinking of the kiss now brought a blush to her cheeks.

All the worry and nervousness had been for naught, as neither of the two people who complicated her life had bothered to come for the evening meal.

So worried had she been about their imminent arrival, she hadn’t even attempted to broach her questions with her grandfather. Now she berated herself for the wasted opportunity.

“Mama?” Concern laced her son’s voice, interrupting her thoughts.

“What’s wrong, Nicholas?” One look at his expression told her it was something serious.

He crossed the room from where he’d been playing with some wooden blocks that Charles had made for him and took her hand. “We need to go out,” he said.

Unsure what bothered him, she smoothed a hand over his soft, dark hair and cupped his cheek. “Let me work a bit longer, and then we’ll go outside and find Charles. How does that sound?”

“Nay, Mama. We need to go out now.” He pulled her hand, trying his best to get her to move.

Something was bothering him and until she found out what it was, she decided it best to humor him. She set aside her needlework and stood, glancing out the window as she did so.

She could see and hear Hugh, his size alone enough to make him obvious. She also recognized Matthew and Edward, who parried back and forth, one thrusting, the other blocking, then their roles reversed. They paused and Matthew removed his helm to wipe his brow. He glanced up and caught sight of her. With flourish, he bowed deep at the waist and sent her a grin. She smiled and waved in return.

Edward looked up as well to see what held Matthew’s attention. He bowed his head and smiled. She acknowledged his greeting with a nod, but didn’t return his smile. He was another person she’d been avoiding at all costs. Perhaps it had just been the drink that had made him so bold, but she had no desire to find out.

She recognized some of the other men but saw no sign of Royce. Had he left with her grandfather?

“Mama, please,” Nicholas pleaded.

“Show me what’s wrong, darling,” she told him, his hand firmly in hers.

A shout from below stole her attention yet again. Nicholas dropped her hand and ran to look out the window, stretching up on his toes. Alyna lifted him and held him tight as she leaned out the window casement to offer them both a better view.

The men gathered around someone lying on the ground. Her heart in her throat, she searched the crowd of men, but even at this distance, she knew Royce was still not among them. Surely the injured man couldn’t be him.

“Oh, dear,” she muttered.

“Hurry, Mama.”

“Aye, we must hurry.” She set Nicholas down and fetched her bag with herbs and remedies for common injuries that Enid had brought from Montvue.

As she and Nicholas hurried down the stairs, she could only hope her limited knowledge would aid the injured man.

Enid stood with one foot on the stairs as though on her way to fetch Alyna. “There’s been a terrible accident, my lady,” she said as she plucked Nicholas off the bottom step.

Alyna pushed through the small group gathered in the great hall and caught sight of a soldier lying prone on top of one of the long, oak tables.

Her breath caught when she at last saw who it was. Matthew lay pale and still upon the table. How could this be? She had just seen him with that shy grin of his moments before. Blood coated the mail on his shoulder and as she neared, she could see more blood pooled near it. The links of mail had been split open. She could only wonder at the force of the blow that could penetrate the protection of the metal rings and cause so much damage.

“Remove his mail as carefully as possible,” she directed one of the knights who stood nearby. “Enid, fetch some cloths and water.”

Hugh stood near Matthew, worry etched upon his somber face, his blue eyes dark with concern.

“What happened?” she asked.

The big man helped ease the mail from the unconscious young knight, no easy task when a knight was awake and well, let alone when he lay motionless. One of the men on Matthew’s other side assisted him. “He was engaged in swordplay when something went amiss, my lady. I wasn’t watching them when it happened and from what I can garner, no one else seemed to be either.”

Alyna waited impatiently as the two men completed their difficult task. Matthew remained unconscious. She felt the weight of a stare and looked up to see Edward’s gaze upon her from the back of the group. Had it been his sword that had struck this terrible blow? Even as the question formed in her mind, Edward looked away, his face blank of expression.