How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (16 page)

“You’d know better than I. And now you have forced a death sentence upon me by your bloody insistence on the truth.”

“I told you I would not hang you, even though you tempt me. Do you doubt my word?”

“Which word? To me or to the king, because now that you know, however you act, it will be a falsehood. Blessed art thou, oh wise, Templar Knight. See what your mighty quest for the truth has accomplished?”

His tunic lay on the floor where they’d left it the night before, after making heirs. It tore as he pulled it over his head. Before he slammed the door, he shot one final arrow into her heart. “God’s blood, woman, you are a curse upon my soul and all those around you. No wonder Underhill’s pintle shrank at the sight of you.”

Marcus, Lord of the Green Meadows, The Beast of Thornhill, stormed the stairs. At the bottom, his gentle people worked alongside his warriors, cleaning the great hall. They pretended that they hadn’t heard the shouting and pointedly ignored him when he pitched in to help.

Damn that wife of his. He should just walk back up those stairs and set her straight. If he’d hung every man he’d seen walk in their sleep, he’d have none left for battle. She’d dare question his honor? After all he’d done for her?

When they finished cleaning, all lined up and waited for him to speak. Their eyes were cast upon the shining mosaic floor.

“I’ve had time to reflect on what happened early this morning and I’ve decided that it was a bad decision to keep the bishop and his men in my manor last night.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and paced as he met each in the eye. “However, that being said, I expect my staff and my men to cover for my bad decisions—to have my back and protect my lady. You didn’t and what almost happened as a result is inexcusable. However, I’m ultimately responsible. I should’ve been down here with you, helping to keep the evil at bay.”

An angelic voice, soft and demure, floated down from atop the stairs. “No, my Lord, the fault was all mine. I’ve been thoughtless and childish and I’ve put all your lives at risk. I’m not at all like the Lady you expect me to be.”

She sent him down a most crooked smile, but her eyes glistened with tears. When was it that the sun had begun to rise and set on her moods? He reached up while she slowly descended the staircase and placed her small hand in his.

Turning to his people, he said, “Please excuse us while we take our leave to discuss matters more privately. I thank you for cleaning up this mess. Anon, to your pallets until the hour of dinner.

“Come, let’s walk.” He put his hand to the small of her back and urged her forward. As they passed Thomas, Marcus slapped his shoulder in silent thanks, for helping stay his temper.

No doubt stunned, it took several moments before his friend could speak. “To the hearth, men. And ladies, bring us some nourishment and your knowledge of this keep. You saw what happened early this morn. Our castle went under siege, and the battle would’ve been lost, but for The Beast awoke from his sleep. Shame on us. Let us show our lord and lady that we’re worthy of their merciful graciousness. Together, we will find a better plan of defense.”

“Aye,” said the small group in unison.

Marcus paused just outside the manor door, closed his eyes, and sighed.

Turning around, Ann cocked her head. “What was that all about?”

“I suspect I gave the right speech. But I’m completely at a loss as to what speech to give you.” He offered his hand, and instead of holding it, she put it to her lips.

“As I am to you. It’s raining. Mayhap we could speak quietly in the church?”

“Mayhap.”

They chose a pew in the middle and sat quietly as rain pelted the tiled roof. Brother James lit a candle at the altar and let them be.

“I should’ve trusted you with my secret.” She sighed and looked up at the altar, as if expecting a revelation. Her eyes, green as spring, filled with water, and dripped at the corners.

“Aye. But I didn’t keep you safe as I promised. In fact, I disarmed you from your knives and put you at risk. I’m afraid I’ve found it easier to keep a whole army safe, than my own wife, in my own manor. For the first time in my life, I am unworthy. Forgive me, for everything.” He stared at the cross with the suffering face of Christ and commiserated. He wanted to hug her, but with God-the-father scowling down from above, it seemed more appropriate to clasp hands.

“What are you going to do with me?” Letting her guard drop, she stared at him with wide, child-like innocence.

“Make sure you never sleep alone and find a piece of yarn to tether you to me. I’ve traveled around the world and seen conditions of the mind that would astound. I’ve come to the conclusion that it has very little to do with God
or
the devil, and much to do with human suffering.” He squeezed her hand and tucked one defiant lock into her gold hairnet.

“After battle, I had good men who’d never walked in their sleep before, begin to do so. They would perform mundane chores, then go peaceably back to their slumber. If it were a demon, wouldn’t they cause much mischief? Tell me. Have you ever done any evil whilst asleep?”

“Nay. Of course not.” She shook her head and those stray wisps escaped again.

“There. That’s settled. We’ll have no more talk of demons in the night.”

Her eyes lowered to where their hands joined. “But as a wife, I’ve been a failure. The only thing I’ve been able to do correctly is keep your sword’s interest and I’m afraid I’ve broken that, too.”

“It was, but a slight wound, dearest. I’m sure with your careful ministrations, we can bring it about, again.” He chuckled and squeezed her hand.

“Truly?” The centers of her eyes went almost black with wanting and she licked her lips. “Mayhap I could repair you in the bathhouse?”

“Surely it is not empty at this hour.” He rose and pulled her into a hug right there, inside the church. If needed, he’d add it to his ever-growing list of sins to confess.

She laughed at his unholy act and swatted him. “It seems the bishop’s arrival has put my schedule amuck. I can repair that after I repair you.”

Chapter 14

Her husband’s arm lay across her chest like a heavy tree branch. Pushing at him, Ann tried to wake him enough to move, as she needed to relieve herself. With a groan, he finally turned. She squirmed out from under him and untied the yarn from her toe. Another bath was what she needed, both for cleansing as well as healing. Her stomach was churning and threating to hurl. After finding a chamber pot to do just that, she took the most direct path to the bathhouse and pushed on the wall.

The sun had not yet risen, and neither had the men who kept the baths hot, but she managed to get a fire roaring nearest the top pool. She sat on the cool mosaic tiles and scrubbed the worst of the last days’ dirt with a brush. When a small cloud of steam came off the water, she eased in. As a younger maiden, she’d imagined herself a sea nymph. Her hair floated as she dunked, rinsed, and brushed herself clean, even in the spots reserved for her husband.

“You really shouldn’t go anywhere all alone.” Marcus’ loud voice startled her from out of the passage entrance. She screamed.

“By all that is holy, don’t sneak up on me so. You might’ve scared the life right out of me.”

“Better me than someone trying to take it purposefully. Promise me you’ll wait for me in the future. It would be too easy to take you here. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve grown so very fond of you.”

“And I of you.” She turned to admire her warrior. His gray eyes had gentled on her with his lids half-closed. She wanted to explore his hair, still tousled from sleep, and touch where his dark beard had grown to a rough stubble.

She sighed. “I suppose you’ve the right of it. I’ve been used to relative safety within my own house, which seems to have abandoned me as of late. I’ve been thinking, now don’t get angry, but I really did have most everything in balance until I married you.”

He pulled off his bed shirt and strode into the bath in one graceful, cat-like move. His body, covered with a thin pelt of hair, had nary a place where the skin didn’t stretch taut over bumps of strength. Her face heated when he caught her admiring his beautiful form. He strode through the water with a smile, settled behind her, and folded his arms around her breasts. Removing the brush from her hand and taking a step back, he gently scrubbed.

“All things
were
in balance, except Abernathy was stealing your sheep.” He must’ve let go of the brush, for it was a hand that moved lower and caressed her derriere.

“Mmm, true, yet even that was manageable and I was still turning a fine profit. But I’ve been thinking. What enemies do you have? Ones that would want you excommunicated or killed? Believe me when I say Abernathy is merely an opportunist. I’ve dealt with him for years. The wolf howls without bite. Someone else is doing the planning.”

“I’d have to agree with you there. Much is at play. More than I’ve been able to grasp. Edward’s court is full of subterfuge and I haven’t been back long enough to know the where and why of it all.” He nuzzled her neck.

She could hardly put two thoughts together as his thick pintle hardened against her back. “Who told you that I murdered my husband?”

“My father.”

“Why do you think he spoke so?” She tried to ignore his gentle siege, now focused on her breasts. He pinched and played until she moaned.

“I believe he thought it to be true.” His tongue found her ear, then he turned her.

Wrapping her legs around him, she opened wide. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“Odd?” He lifted her, leaned her against the wall of the bath, and his sword pierced deep.

It was all, but impossible to think. “The only people who knew of my husband’s death, would have reported it as a natural cause. The man was old and infirmed, by even the most witless observer. Why would your father lead you to believe otherwise? Why did you come to my house expecting to find an old hag of a murderess?”

“I don’t know, but I promise you this, I’ll find the truth of it all, but not right now. Right now, I have other interests to pursue.” He pulled out and plunged into her fully.

She shouted, bit into his shoulder, and met his siege, thrust for thrust, as water splashed over the sides of the pool.

After they finished in more baby-making, her now-weak legs fell away. “I’d think indulging in that much pleasure, for pleasure’s sake, might be a sin.”

He grinned and crossed himself. “Mayhap I’ll ask Brother James.”

“You won’t, sir.” She opened her eyes with mouth wide in mock horror.

“How else will I know, if to enjoy my wife is sinful? I’d not go to hell for ignorance of such things.” He tickled her and she squealed and squirmed, but he wouldn’t let go.

A floating wash linen made for a perfect weapon and hit him squarely in the face. “To Hades with you.”

He laughed, caught her tight, and they enjoyed each other again.

Later, outside under the thatch, Marcus sat on a large flat stone, after sharing the breaking-of-fast with the town. Ann coddled babies, cooing, and gurgling. Across the green, the summer sun played upon the stained glass window that graced the front of the church. Blue and red beams of light reflected and shimmered onto the front wall of the manor. Another peaceful and beautiful day.

A young man, dressed in fine Italian silks and velvet, encroached upon his space shyly.

Marcus stood and stretched his sword arm forward. “You must be Stephano. It’s an honor to meet you. Your work rivals any I’ve seen across the Christian lands.”

“You won’t tell anyone that we’re living here, will you? Your wife—”

“Of course he won’t.” Babe in arm, Ann charged in before he could respond. “He’s now my husband, your liege lord, and an honorable man. He’ll keep my promises.”

With wide green eyes, she whispered, “The punishment for escaping his island in Venice is death.”

“And not just me and my sister, but my family that I left at home.” He nodded vigorously.

She gave him a hug. “You and Christina will always have sanctuary here. We’re family.”

Marcus frowned at them both. “Glass such as that is rarer than Roman gold. Someone’s bound to come looking for the source.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Oh, no. When I sell his pieces, I’m careful to make sure to cover up the fact they’re made here in England. I weave a yarn of some proportion on my prowess in trading with the Italians. I supposedly have a cousin who has married well, lives in Venice, and sends me occasional pieces as gifts.”

He raised his eyes to God and said one of his now-plentiful prayers for her life. She was so naïve, it worried him without end.

“Would you like to visit his kiln? I keep it well hidden. I can ask the new stable master to get our horses ready.”

“Another time.” Sitting back on a stone warmed by the sun, he shook his head. A glassmaker, with a sister who teaches knife fighting in the middle of the forest. The people his wife attracted into their town was amazing.

Clearing his throat, he patted the stone next to him. “Sit, sit. I’d ask a favor of you, before you take your leave.”

“Anything at all.” Stephano put bread into a bag for carrying and perched on the edge of the stone wall, ready for flight.

“Would you be able to construct another window, the likes of what James has in the abbey?” He pointed to the window in the church and grinned.

“Of course. But it is quite a feat to recreate. The sand alone, to import—”

“I’d not have it take much of your time, maybe only several pieces each season.”

Stephano nodded but peered closely, as if looking for signs of madness. “At that rate, it could take mayhap a lifetime or even more.”

He winked. “Tis for the bishop. Once he’s done with his penance.”

Ann giggled, grabbed his arm tightly, and plopped down next to him on his stone. He was pleased she’d worn the yellow tunic again, along with the rescued ribbon. They’d come a long way since that day. He put his arm around her waist, tugged her close, and kissed her in front of all. “And one more thing.”

“Si?” Stephano eyed the two of them with obvious interest.

“From now on, you will have your sister come to the manor for my wife’s special lessons instead of deep in the forest.”

“You know?” His eyes widened while Ann jumped up off his lap and turned in a joyful dance.

Kneeling upon one knee, Stephano said, “Sir, I must apologize. But your lady, she insisted.”

Marcus lifted the young man off the ground. “Worry not. I’m beginning to understand why a lady might need to have such fighting skills and I insist it continue. I’ll pay you well. Where
is
your talented sister?”

“Her life has not been easy, so she prefers the quiet in the trees, but we can try to convince her, for Lady Ann’s sake, to leave on occasion. I must take my leave now.
Grazie
. For everything.” He bowed elegantly and strode away on the road that led into the forest.

Ann watched him depart deep in thought. “He comes infrequently and his walk is long. Mayhap we can send a horse for Christina on our lesson days?”

Marcus nodded. “Of course.”

A thick slice of dark bread, slathered with jam from her hand was his reward. A grand smile crossed her face and he smiled back. When they were in harmony, a bit of heaven settled within him.

She motioned for some women of the town to join them. These were the spinsters who worked the wheels. He’d already met the weavers, the dyers, and the shearers. Then there were the bathhouse men, and all sorts of people who worked the wool into cloth. Whenever he met someone, Ann explained their chores in detail as if she could perform the tasks herself.

“Are all your people tradesmen?” He’d listened to another exhaustive explanation about wool and was ready for a nap.

“Aye, It depends on what you call a trade, does it not? The men who grew grain, in my father’s time, were indentured to the land. I freed them to call them grain tradesmen and I have meat tradesmen who take care of the pigs and chickens. It’s wonderful, is it not? Fifteen years ago, I had a handful of starving serfs to feed. Now, look. Our town is wonderful and growing. I’ve even had people move here from London.”

“Do they ever leave?”

Her lips pursed just a bit, her brow furrowed, then she beamed brightly. “I suppose they could if they wanted. But they don’t. I make sure their goods are well sold and we all make profit and eat well. Your father and the king are happy with the taxes we pay.”

He smiled back. He was doing a lot of that lately. “Did you hear of the peasants rising against their masters in other regions? Is that why you tried this new way?”

She shook her head and black curls fell across her face. She tucked some back into the net. “No, not at all. What has happened?”

Odd.
The woman had come to all sorts of rightful conclusions based on nothing, but the love of her people. “There are places where serfs live in huts made of only mud and straw. Whips are taken to their backs. Starvation is the norm. The livestock is better fed.”

“How awful. Why?”

He took her hand, indicating they should start their daily walk. “Greed, I would guess. Think of what motives your father had, and I suppose you have your answer.”

“Oh. So there are places where these people fight the landowners? Do they succeed?”

“Nay and it’s pitiful to behold. What you’ve built here is miraculous and I’m going to have my hands full trying to keep it safe. For the love of God, even Edward would need to send Stephano back, if word got out. Come, show me more.”

She led him down the main road, waved to men stirring the wool, and they waved back. “Well, you’ve already seen the looms, I hope the new ones come soon. And there’s my vat. And you met our candle maker. Fine of you to teach him about the beeswax. We’ve never seen the like and of bees we have plenty. In that home lives Jeb the carver. My door? He did that. He got tired of churches, though I never understood why, and neither did the Holy Father. Now, he only cuts scenes of nature.”

They wandered past several more stone houses. Most had thatched roofs, but some had tile. She pointed to one home where stacks of brown wares were piled high. “Pottery is made there. We have several kilns and there are women in the village that paint colorful flowers upon them. The brick maker is over there, and well, of course you’ve met the blacksmith. Did you know his swords are almost famous?”

One long building loomed ahead with a newly thatched roof. “And there? Widow spinsters. They enjoy each other’s company while they work the wheels. If you enter, be prepared to spend an afternoon, for their tales are as long as their yarn.”

The town still overwhelmed him. He’d seen similar in Italy, but never in England, in the middle of nowhere. “When next, do you take your wares for selling?”

She did a little jig, unable to contain her excitement. “We take our wares to fair at the next full moon.”

He held her shoulders to stay her from bouncing away. “That’s only ten days hence. I may have a better suggestion. What say we go to London, on the following moon, instead?”

“London?” Her eyes went wide and she gave him the best of smiles and a hug that almost toppled him. “Oh, that would be grand. We could do that? But we still have so much to do. Could you come with me to the dye vats? I want to show you. We need your men to watch the children in the fields. They’re going to gather blue flowers in the north.”

Good Lord.
He tried not to shout. Had she forgotten everything that had just happened? “They can’t, remember? No one is to go near the land that borders Abernathy’s.”

“But that’s where the blue flowers are abundant. Please? With those monies, we can do much good.” She kissed the frown off his mouth and he gave her a grin. For once, she waited on his approval and it should be rewarded.

“I’ll send my men.” He leaned over to kiss her nose.

“To pick flowers, my Lord? Surely they will balk.” She raised an eyebrow.

The look she’d borrowed from him was an excellent mockery. He couldn’t help, but laugh. “I’ll tell them it’s for sword practice. Not to come back until they have a wagon full of blue heads. That will be my proof they’ve practiced.”