Gayle Eden (22 page)

Pagan scanned visually over the shimmering garment, to her slippers, and back up to a face that grew more handsome, if possible. Her lips were salved and kissable, her eyes, as always, making him feel something unfathomable when he looked into them. He held out his hand. They descended the stairs.

Randulf was already at the table.

Chapter Eleven

It would be another week and a half before Illara stood at the entry with Lylie, watching the first of many knights arrive and set up their tents. Pagan and Randulf, who openly invited everyone to use his name, Ronan, greeted each one. Merchants, others in trade took up residence in the city to sell goods. They would pay a rent fee and percentage to Pagan. Thus, there were as many wagons and animals as there were people.

In her silk shirt and velvet tunic, leather breeches and boots, Illara still welcomed a weak sun that day. She had no idea who was friend or foe. She noticed though, that the servants were wearing black robes of richer cloth and red caps, and that Lylie’s gown yester eve and today was of puffed upper sleeve, round neck, low waist and in a bronze velvet and silk. Her hair she half covered in a gauzy matching cap, and the overall effect brought out her handsome bones and figure.

She showed Illara the wings, now cleaned, and fireplaces laid with logs. Each chamber enriched with opulent bedding, vases, and carpets, furs and thick candles in scrolled holders. Quarters and apartments that belonged to the kin of Pagan and Ronan were once more aired and open, the doors wide to receive those whom the brothers would invite inside the castle.

Stables had been cleaned. There was food both preserved and much baking. In the Great hall—all the shields from the tower now graced the walls along with banners and tapestries. The tables were lined first with crimson then white, and sprigs of spice and dried flowers warmed to the glow of candles lining down the center.

Pagan had told her that priests and monks would attend too, thus the chapel was readied, its inner sanctums and hall lit day and night. With torches and candles; the vestments washed and pressed, and every candlestick and gold icon polished and placed in niches. The bell, which he told her had been cut down, was hefted, and replaced.

Many of the men made midnight pilgrimages there and prayed, meditated. The font awaited water to be blessed. Nevertheless, it was hollowed to any knight or devout person for the cross that hung inside it, and she thought that the challenge or no, they were glad to have it opened, and to find a place to do their praying and chanting.

She was witness to the first of these pious men, a young one who came to bless and anoint the city and castle, the chapel. Having lost some kin, he said, in the attack that took place.

Today however it seemed to be a stream of impressive knights and their attendants, young pages, squires, and servants. They rode horses not of the size and build of their war steeds, and were dressed in velvets and silks. Many brought their women who strolled in the walled city below, among the merchants and booths. It did not escape their notice that few came to the castle, and most drew from the city well, instead of the available ones inside.

“How many do you think are here as enemies?” Illara asked Lylie.

“None, I hope.” The woman sighed. “I suppose the aristocracy and those officials will be arriving soon. ‘Tis a good thing we stocked the stores.”

Illara nodded then confided, “I wrote everyone mentioned in my mother’s journals, and all that I could recall. As terrible as the situation is, I should like to have seen Sefare again. I don’t suppose—“

Lylie had clutched her arm, and stopped her speech. She now pointed to the road and a large party. Three fore-riders with banners, and fully armed and armored knights were making two long rows as far as they could see.

“Good Christ. Let it be someone friendly,” Illara breathed. “I am supposed to be under guard. You shall have to greet them. I will go where I can see better, and spy.”

She hurried down the steps and across the yard, calling out to one of the guards she now knew by face. “Know you that insignia?”

“Aye, milady. ’Tis the Baron Halcot. The Marshal.”

Illara hurried back to inform Lylie, who alerted servants. She fetched her cape and pulled up her hood, then slipped down and into the courtyard, where she hoped to pass for a lad, as many were dressed likewise.

There was much to do as the knights apparently stayed below while the main guard and officials proceeded. Pagan and Randulf entered through the gatehouse, with the party. Assigned squires went hurrying to assist with horses, while Illara watched a formal greeting between the brother’s and their guest.

They spoke in French. She listened after the formalities, as the Marshal requested a private audience with both—she assumed to confirm rules and discuss details. She was able to study him as he faced her position. A cape of deep green and black hung from his broad shoulders, his clothing rich with gold latches, and his hair nearly white, and to his shoulders. His face was lined but bore the mark of nobility, and the eyes were intelligent, dark, and did not look as unyielding as a few she’d faced during the hearings.

They turned, and he walked between the brothers up the stairs, his guards following.

Illara leaned with a sigh against the wall, her hand to her stomach. It was getting ever closer and starker in reality now.

A shout from above made her jump, and Illara turned to climb a platform behind the wall. She saw over the shifting of people and arrivals, another large party on the road. “Please,” she whispered, “Be friend and not foe.”

The standard was black and gold. The foremost guards halted to allow a rider to move up to the front, once the city wall was passed. Toward the drawbridge, the rider, obviously a woman, rode a muscled gray steed, her fur cloak draped over its haunches.

Just before the entry, she awaited four of the main riders who flanked her. She dropped her hood back just as she entered.

Illara’s heart thundered. She would know that white blond hair anywhere. It was Sefare!

She put herself before the last entry and as it opened, dropped her own hood back. Sefare saw her even before the horse stopped. She smiled hugely. Always a beauty, the woman’s aqua eyes shone with tears, though joy wreathed her face.

“
Countess…” one of the guard’s began.

However, Sefare had dismounted and came running to her, embracing her and saying, “Illara! Dear heavens…Illara!”

Illara had time to see the elaborate fashion of Sefare’s hair, a crown of braids and long flowing locks down her back. She returned the embrace and murmured, “Countess?”

Her friend drew back and wiped her eyes with a gloved hand. “Aye, but widowed.” She looked her over. “Look at you; you have not changed one bit.”

“Look at you!” Illara blinked because the cape parted and there were jewels in the bodice of Sefare’s gown, a rich collar of rubies and diamonds. “I recall a time when you swore to never wear a gown.” She chuckled.

“I still have a whole wardrobe of breeches and doublets. Do not worry.”

Illara wiped a tear from her own eye and took her hands. “You came. How did you, so very swift? And I… I simply cannot believe you are here.”

“Of course I came. You needed me. Your message caught me just as I was departing to come and find you. I had planned to, when my husband died, but there was such a mess with the properties. However I turned back in time to collect my army.”

“Your army…” Illara shook her head.

Her friend smiled and squeezed her hands. “I have brought you a hundred and fifty of my best knights. Will that do?”

Laughing Illara hugged her again. “Aye. Yes it will.” She let her go. “I must let you go and rest. Make yourself known to Lylie. She made me write to you, and I am supposed to be under guard, but I will slip to your chambers, and I—” She bit her lip and stared at that beautiful face. “I cannot believe you are here.”

Sefare shook her head. “Much happened in my life. All was not well, despite the riches I retained. My betrothed, if you will recall, was twenty years my senior, and for all my father was awed by his prowess and his title, he lived to be sorry I was wed to such a man.”

“Oh...no. are your parents not alive, then?”

“No. Only my brother lives, and I have not seen him in four years. My husband forbade it.”

“How did he die? Your husband?”

Sefare sighed. “In battle. As every knight aspires. I could not attend his burial. I was too marred from the beating he gave me when he departed.”

“Sefare…” Illara felt sickened by that.

Her friend lifted her chin and drew a deep breath. “I’m free of him now. I have plans to live here, in England, if all goes well. But first, we must clear up this business.”

As she headed toward the castle, Pagan exited, and Illara saw him for the first time since last eve. Pagan wore a black velvet doublet and silk shirt, leather breeches, and knee-high boots. His mask was black and studded—and she almost laughed at Sefare’s abrupt halt and back steps as he approached. He was after all, a towering and brawn laden man.

She caught up with her friend and took her arm. “This is my husband,” she said loud enough for Pagan to hear. “Pagan, this is Countess…”

“Call me Sefare,” her friend invited as soon as Pagan halted before them.

Pagan bowed formally and glanced questioningly at Illara.

“My friend. Remember, I spoke of her. She trained with me—”

“Aye. Yes.” His brass eyes stared at the beautiful woman. Illara tried to see what Sefare did, all those things that frightened those who did not know him. However, she knew him so intimately, she hardly recalled those days.

Her husband intoned, “It is good of you to come in support of my wife. Welcome to Dunnewicke Castle.”

“I came in more than support, Sir.” Sefare smiled rather nervously. “I brought one hundred and fifty knights with me.”

Illara caught the blink of surprise on Pagan’s face, before he glanced to her. She explained, “We made a pact once, when we were very young, that no matter what distance or time separated us, we would come with an army to help.”

She laughed, still a bit amazed herself and took her friend’s hand again. “I had forgotten that, when I wrote to her. We were oft envious of knights and bemoaning that we could not become one. We had observed that some daughters and wives had armies at their disposal…”

Pagan nodded and glanced to Sefare again. “I am humbled by your offer—”

Illara knew that was truth, though it was hard for him to admit. She reached for his hand also and got to her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. He smiled and she glanced at her friend in time to see the surprise on Sefare’s face. It was apparently because of the comfort in which they touched—more likely, the affection— which Illara showed to a man who was feared and scarred.

They exchanged a look, herself, and her friend, and Illara knew she communicated the depth of her feelings for Pagan.

“I could gather several hundred more given time,” Sefare told Pagan.

Pagan laughed, a rasping and low sound. “My thanks. But that number is sufficiently equal to the need.”

Illara asked him, “Am I to be under guard? Have you spoken to the Marshal?”

“Not under guard. But not to go beyond the castle walls.” He brought her hand to his lips then loosed it. “You may enjoy your reunion with your friend, and enjoy your place as Lady of Dunnewicke. We shall have many guests at the table this evening.” Pagan bowed again to Sefare. “Your presence is included.”

“Thank you.”

Pagan excused himself to go below to the camps. He called her guards forward and asked of her baggage, which was behind on a wagon. He directed the knights inside the great hall to refresh.

Sefare said as they entered the castle, “Methinks you omitted a few details in your message.”

Smiling, Illara confessed, “There wasn’t time to write more. I shall explain it all when you are settled.” She waved to Lylie, who was crossing the main hall. When the woman came over, she made the introduction.

Curtsying Lylie sighed, “I’m so very glad you came, Countess—Madam—”

Illara laughed. “Call her Sefare, or Madam. She’s a tale of her own to impart, I think.”

The women were immediate friends, given that they both cared for Illara and given the situation.

Lylie led the way to chambers set aside for Sefare, the closest to the Great hall but down a hallway. She excused herself, assuring Sefare’s belongings would be delivered soon.

In the chambers, Sefare removed her cloak and revealed a gown that was indeed rich. She sat down on the window seat and opened the latch to press them wide, warning, “You had best sit down, Illara. I must tell you, my own life and future is in peril.”

Illara sat.

* * * *

Night saw torches lit from the city to the castle grounds. Within the castle itself, an amber glow shone from the windows. Campfires and music wafted from tents and the city too. More parties arrived whilst Ronan, Pagan, and Illara hosted a lavish meal in the great hall.

Dressed in a gown of crimson velvet with black chemise and having her hair in cap of black and crimson silk, Illara had added a gold link belt, low on her hips with rubies interspersed. She had taken care to match both Pagan and Ronan, as both were in rich leather and velvet. Her husband in black, and Randulf in that hue and crimson.