His Enemy's Daughter (7 page)

Now, a tangle of criss-crossing scars marred his skin from head to hip, all marking the path of an axe's blade and resulting in torn and yet-mangled flesh. Healing irregularly as they had, the skin lay tight and twisted and never lost its sting. Peering off to the woods at the edge of the field, he remembered a stream they'd crossed on their way here. That would fit his needs perfectly.

Soren told Stephen of his plans and then whistled to his mount. Climbing on the black monster's back, he pointed him in the direction of the trees and touched the horse's sides with his boots. Within minutes, they
had crossed from the sunny field into the shadows of the woods and Soren guided the horse deeper and further until the sound of the rushing water could be heard ahead of them.

When they reached the nearest part of it, Soren jumped from the horse and tossed the reins around a branch to keep him there. Then Soren waited and listened for any sounds that would reveal others nearby. After a few minutes of silence but for the birds and other small creatures that lived within the wood, Soren walked to the edge of the rushing flow and began to peel off the layers of protection and clothing he wore.

Once naked, he stretched this way and that, trying to ease the tight, scarred flesh. He stepped into the rushing water and nearly lost his breath at the chill of it. This land was so much colder than his homeland of Brittany. There, the lands were warmed by mild breezes off the sea and the sun dominated the days. Here,
merde
, it was enough to freeze a man's balls from his body!

He did not let the cold stop him, striding in until the water reached his waist and throwing his head under it. The sweat washed away and his body immediately cooled from his exertions of the day. Soren scrubbed his skin and rubbed his scalp with the water. He'd not planned this so he'd not brought along any soap. Next time…

Hell! Next time he would bathe in heated water
inside
! Surely Sybilla would allow him the privacy of her chamber to do so.

Soren walked to the edge of the stream and sluiced most of the water off him as he left the current. Turning, he leaned over, grabbed the length of his hair and twisted it, allowing the worst of it to drip back into the stream.
As he did so, he noticed the reflection of himself in the calmer edge of the stream. He could not help but stare at the monster there, the one everyone saw now when they beheld Soren, the Beautiful Bastard.

If he turned to one side, his face barely looked touched, but it was the other side that bore the brunt of the blow that had nearly killed him in battle. It was that side, his right, that made others cringe in horror or turn away in fear or revulsion. Caught up in the vision reflecting off the water's calm surface there, he nearly missed the sound of leaves crunching beneath someone's feet.

Nearly.

Soren crouched and reached for his sword and dagger, ready to face danger. He turned his face so that the unscarred side was forwards and he could see better into the shadows.

‘Who goes there?' he called out.

‘Raed,' said a voice to his right side in the bushes.

‘Return to the keep and I will be there anon,' he ordered, keeping the worst of his injuries hidden from view. The boy would have nightmares for days if he saw the extent of it. And he'd be worthless as a squire if he saw the results of battle now before trained.

‘Aye, Lord Soren,' the boy called, never showing himself.

Soren took up his clothing and put on only what would cover him for the ride back to the keep. But what bothered him throughout that ride was the realisation that softer emotions were creeping back into his soul. Emotions like sympathy for the boy…and admiration for the woman.

When she haunted his dreams over the next several
nights, in spite of her keeping to her chambers regardless of his leave to do otherwise, he knew changes were coming. He just prayed his soul would survive them.

T
hough things were settling back into a routine in Alston, one she could hear through the portal her window provided, Sybilla remained in her chambers. The parchment he'd provided yet remained rolled and in her grasp most of the time. Instead of finding someone to read it to her, she simply spent her empty hours offering up prayers for the souls of those listed there.

The souls of those who'd died for her.

The worst part of this was she lacked the courage to go out among her people now. Blind, she could not serve them as she should as lady. All of her duties, ones she'd performed for her father after her mother's death, had been lifted from her control, much as her keep and hands had, with the arrival of Lord Soren and his men. Now, others ruled, others oversaw, others supervised every aspect of life here in Alston. So, she sat here in her chambers, hiding from all she'd had before and even from the people she should be serving.

She could not sew or embroider now. She could not weave and that was something she always did when troubled or unable to sleep. It soothed her restlessness and helped her to concentrate. Moving the threads over the loom aided her in seeing other patterns around her. Now, with nothing to do to be useful, she sat praying.

And wondering.

He'd not touched her since that disastrous first night and had never spoken of exercising his marital rights to her bed and her body. Had he decided against consummation? Did he plan to put her aside? Sybilla shifted in the chair, her body exhausted from doing nothing at all and her mind now teased with this possibility.

She'd planned to ask him for leave to go to her cousin's convent before he attacked. With no one there to lay claim, or argue his, to Alston, Sybilla had hoped that his anger against her people would dissipate. Mayhap he would allow it now if she did not contest the annulment of their ill-timed, ill-fated marriage?

She'd managed to sew some gold coins into the hem of her cloak that would be enough to donate to the convent for her entrance there. Certainly in these hard and trying times, there would be a place made for her.

As though her very thoughts had conjured his interest, Sybilla heard the light, running steps of the boy he used to bring messages. He stopped before her chambers and spoke to the guard, only one now there on duty as the lord had granted her permission to leave her chambers at any time. Then he knocked on the door and opened it.

‘Lady,' he said quietly. Then, ‘I mean good day to you, my lady.' Clearly he was working on his manners and being instructed by someone on how to do it.

‘Raed of Shildon,' she acknowledged. ‘Good morrow to you as well,' she replied in a lighter tone than she felt. Why should the boy be taken to task because she was feeling low?

‘My lord Soren said to expect a bath to be sent here to your chambers this day.' He said the words carefully, as though he'd spent hours memorising them. Just so, for he missed the importance of those words to her and to her life.

Her maids gasped, understanding the meaning of the words delivered by the boy. Then they began to whisper between themselves. Sybilla's body shuddered from deep within at the realisation that he, Lord Soren, did intend to claim his marital rights…and this very night!

‘Lady?' The boy cleared his throat and then spoke again. ‘Is aught wrong?'

‘Nay,' she said, shaking her head. 'Twould be unseemly for him to return to his lord with a report that included her screaming or fainting at the words he delivered. No matter that she felt like doing both at this moment. ‘Nay,' she repeated louder to convince both herself and the boy. ‘Is there anything else?'

He thought about it for a moment and then spoke. She could almost imagine a furrowed brow as he tried to remember any other words he was supposed to deliver to her. ‘Nay, my lady. That was the message.'

The shuffling feet told her he was leaving. ‘Raed?'

‘Aye, my lady.'

‘How many years have you?' If she could have seen him, she could have judged by the milk teeth still remaining in his mouth and his size, but blind she had no clue.

‘Almost nine, my lady,' he said. ‘I was born nearer to winter than summer.'

She nodded, unable to think of anything else to say. He left without another word to her, pausing at the door, she heard him stop, and then leave. He said nothing to the guard this time and she listened as his steps moved away down the corridor.

'Twas strange how she'd never noticed the echo of feet on wood outside her door until now. She'd never noticed most of the sounds of the keep except the crowing of the cocks in the morn or the occasional song of the night birds as the sun set. Now, sound was all she had to tell her of the world moving around her. The activities outside her chamber and her window were the only indication to her that life was moving on with or without her. It took but a moment or two for her maids to begin their assault.

‘He sends a bath to you?' Gytha exclaimed. ‘A bath, lady?'

‘His message is clear, lady,' Aldys said. Always the practical one, she continued, ‘'Twould seem clear he plans to make you a wife in more than name only.'

What could she say in reply? Sybilla nodded her head in agreement and felt a tremor of both dread and excitement deep in the pit of her belly. All of her conjecture about her future changed with this simple message, one carried by a boy who had no inkling of its significance to her or her life. Any plans to offer him an alternative vanished in that moment and a life completely contrary to the one she'd hoped to present to him in unemotional words and sensible terms opened up before her.

A wife.

A wife? Married to a man who had less consideration
for her than he did for the men who served him. A man who she knew only by his violence and shouting. A man…who would claim her body with his and claim her life and future.

Sybilla swallowed against the fear that tightened her throat. Heat billowed in her cheeks at the thought of lying with such a man as the one she'd seen across the field, sitting like the devil's own on his monstrous steed. She remembered his height and his strength and even, in that moment, how large he'd felt next to her on the bed that strange night.

‘Is there aught I can tell you, lady?' Aldys asked quietly, now close by her side. ‘You were very young when your mother passed and mayhap—' Sybilla did not give her time to go into any details.

‘I am prepared for what I must do, Aldys,' she said. ‘Better this night than the first one when shock and terror ruled my mind.' Whether or not that was the truth, Sybilla spoke those words, trying to convince both her maids and herself of it. ‘I think the chamber should be cleaned out before this night,' she said, giving the two women something to think of other than her. ‘Will you see to it, Aldys?'

At first she thought they would be insulted that she questioned the neatness of her room, but instead they seized upon the task as she'd hoped they would. Only a passing comment, whispered low yet still heard, gave her pause about the coming night. Gytha, thinking her words would not be heard, allowed her concerns to be voiced and Sybilla trembled upon hearing them.

‘The blindness might be a godsend,' Gytha whispered
to Aldys. ‘At least the lady will not have to look upon his face when he beds her.'

Try as she might, those words sunk into her soul and Sybilla added herself to the litany of prayers spoken in the next hours.

 

Raed liked the lady. Back at Shildon, there was no lady present, only the lord, and he was a tyrant. At least that's what his mother and father had whispered when they thought him asleep or not listening. But he had listened and learned about his parents' fears of the one who ruled over them on old lord Eoforwic's estate in the north.

Now, returning to his duties outside, he worried that he'd not carried the message as well as he'd wanted to. The words, repeated over and over until he could recite them back, had caused her face to pale and her hands to shake. His stomach ached, remembering the sight of it. And of the fear in the gazes of the other women who served her.

Running down the stairs and then pausing to make sure no one had seen him do that, Raed thought back on Lord Soren's command and realised his error. Still, it puzzled him why the lady would be so afeared of a bath.

He made his way back out to the yard, where the prisoners worked to rebuild the wall surrounding the keep. It was smaller than the one at Shildon, but larger than many here in England, according to Larenz, who'd come across the sea with the invader king's army. Larenz watched out for him now and gave him his tasks each day. Raed was pleased that he would some day be squire
to Lord Soren, if he learned his duties, and mayhap even a knight when grown.

‘What's the matter, boy?' Larenz asked as he approached.

At first Raed hesitated to admit his mistake, but Larenz always seemed patient with him, like his father had been. And even though Lord Soren had threatened to beat him, he'd not yet done so. Instead, a warm place to sleep and enough food to fill his belly was his each day. Larenz told him that everyone made mistakes and, so long as you learned a lesson from it, 'twere fine. When he got closer to the man, Larenz grabbed his hair and rubbed his head almost like Raed did to the miller's hound when he was allowed to play with the dog.

‘Is all well?' Larenz and the others spoke a different tongue, but most managed to say their English words clear enough to be understood. Only a few of Lord Soren's men did not, but he'd ordered them to learn quickly.

‘I took the message to the lady as Lord Soren commanded.'

‘And?' Larenz asked. ‘What happened? Did she refuse him the use of her chambers?'

‘Nay,' he said, shaking his head. ‘Why would she? He is lord here and all belongs to him.' It seemed clear to Raed, so why would the lady not have realised it?

Larenz laughed aloud, shaking his head at Raed. ‘Boy, you know not the way of things between men and women. Ladies sometimes believe themselves to be in charge.' Larenz knelt down on one knee, bringing himself down so that Raed could meet his eyes. ‘Tell me what happened.'

Raed's hands sweated then and he worried more about
what he'd forgotten to tell the lady. What would Lord Soren do for this failure at his duties?

‘I told the lady Lord Soren would be sending a bath to her chambers this evening.' Raed swallowed and tried to be calm. ‘I forgot to tell Lady Sybilla that it was for him.'

Larenz laughed louder then, gaining attention from others nearby. Raed wanted to believe his laughter signalled no need to fear about his error.

‘Should I go back to the lady? Should I tell Lord Soren of this?'

He would bear the beating as punishment for his mistake and he would learn from it, as Larenz had said he must. Larenz stood then and mussed his hair again, grabbing the back of his cloak and guiding him along at his side.

‘Nay, boy. A bigger mistake would be to get between the lord and his lady. Let them sort this all out themselves.'

Raed smiled and tried to accept Larenz's words, but something was wrong between Lord Soren and Lady Sybilla. If they were married, as his parents had been, should they not share their chambers? For as long as they'd been in Alston, Lord Soren sought his rest outside or in that small room near the kitchen and ate with his men or alone. The lady, injured grievously, remained in her room. Neither one seemed happy and neither spoke much to the other.

How strange these nobles were—married yet not. Not like the rest of the people whom married meant living together and working together.

Raed thought that maybe her fear was like his had
been—based on the horrible way Lord Soren looked. He'd admit that his looks took some time to get accustomed to. It had taken Raed days and days, but now the scars that covered one side of Lord Soren's face did not bother him much at all.

Had the lady seen Lord Soren before she was blinded? Or mayhap the others had spoken ill of him to her? She did not seem the silly, easily frightened type to him, but he was only a boy and she the lady of a great family here in the north. Even he knew that.

‘Raed, seek out the stable master and see to Lord Soren's mount,' Larenz ordered.

His mistake could not have been too bad or Larenz would never send him to his favourite place in all of Alston. Surely not? Raed loved working with the horses and taking care of Lord Soren's mighty beast of a horse was something he would never tire of.

‘You are certain?' he asked just one time to make sure his error was not a grave one.

‘Aye, boy, go now,' Larenz said and Raed followed his orders, not even looking back when Larenz let out another burst of loud laughter as he ran off.

 

Larenz could not contain it and he laughed again as the English boy ran off. He was a good sort, doing whatever was asked of him, trying to please Soren and find a new life here at Alston. Not even the worst Soren offered scared the boy off, much to his credit, since many men better, older and wiser than him had trembled time and time again. But this boy stood his ground and 'twas plain to see that Soren liked that.

Larenz liked him, too, for he had a strong spirit and
a good heart in spite of losing everything and everyone he'd had when Oremund destroyed the village of Shildon rather than letting it fall into Norman hands. Watching the boy run to the stables, such as they were, Larenz was reminded of Soren at the same age. Older by almost a score of years, Larenz had guided some of Soren's training, too, and then served with him in William of Normandy's quest for the throne of England.

He saw Soren walking off with Stephen and Guermont and was, for a moment, tempted to inform him of the boy's gaffe, but decided against it. They'd all watched as Soren and the lady avoided each other—Soren did it a-purpose, the lady for other reasons—but it needed to be brought to a halt. Unless they made their peace, Alston would remain a place of battle—Saxons against the Normans and Bretons, men against women, common folk against their rulers. All hinged on the relationship between Soren and Sybilla, even if those two did not know or realise it.