Knight's Caress (26 page)

“Nay, nay, cannot. Insides are aflame.” He drew his knees to his chest and moaned deeply.

Gundred ambled into the room and peered at Tedric. Touching his brow, she then made him open his mouth and took a whiff of his breath. “Magda, run to the kitchen and get Lord Tedric milk and bread; aye, get plenty of it. We may have to force it down his throat, but ‘tis all that can be done for him.”

“‘Tis such a simple cure. How can milk and bread aid him?” Amberlie asked, wondering if Gundred knew what she was talking about.

“‘Twill ease the vicious burning inside from the devil’s turnip. The foul stench yet hangs on his breath.”

Glenna and Mabel gasped in unison. “Nay, how did Tedric get hold of such? ‘Twas not passed around at the meal. No one else is ill,’’ Mabel noted.

Suddenly Amberlie remembered something which Gundred had told her about the climbing plant known as devil’s turnip. The berries could be poisonous. But the kitchen serfs knew the area well, and surely if devil’s turnip had been served, more persons than Tedric would have fallen ill. Where had he gotten it?

Gundred answered Amberlie’s thought for her. “‘Tis evident that Lord Tedric was purposely poisoned. Someone hated him enough to slip it in his food or drink.”

Mabel and Glenna glanced at each other, and then at Amberlie. Though they said nothing to her, she felt she stood accused.

With Gundred’s help, Amberlie got Tedric to drink the milk and eat the bread, though he moaned and groaned the whole time, writhing in absolute agony. She took Lady Mabel’s place later when Tedric began vomiting. For the rest of the night, no one was even certain that Tedric would survive his ordeal. Father Ambrose appeared to administer the last sacraments, but Amberlie ran him away, insisting that Tedric would live. By morning, though Tedric looked excessively weak and wan, he was still alive, and that in itself was a promising sign.

Amberlie stayed with him constantly, not leaving even when Sir Christophe appeared to insist she take a fresh breath of air, a respite from the foul-smelling sick room. Gundred too remained, and Magda poked her head in the door almost every five minutes to check on Tedric for Lady Mabel. But Amberlie had the oddest impression that Magda was checking on her also, for the woman’s suspicious gaze barely left Amberlie for a second.

No one came right out and said so, but Amberlie suspected that Tedric’s family thought she’d poisoned him. And their silent accusation stung her more than she could express, the hurt at being thought capable of such a crime more than unbearable.

Toward the afternoon of the next day, Tedric drifted into a peaceful sleep, and Amberlie knew he was going to recover. Sir Christophe dozed in a chair outside the room late that evening, the door ajar in case there was anything Tedric might need. When Tedric finally woke, he looked lucid and a dash of color had crept into his face. Amberlie smiled at him, genuinely pleased that he looked a bit better. She’d prayed the whole time during his illness, prayed for his recovery, prayed that he wouldn’t die and be taken from her. If Tedric died, she knew part of herself would die with him. For now, in her heart, she admitted that she loved him.

If only there was some way they could put aside their differences, if only she could believe he was innocent of Henri’s death and that no spirit would again come calling for vengeance.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked softly, her eyes alight with pleasure to know he’d truly passed the crisis. She fluffed his pillow, helping him lean back. “Would you like a cup of water? You must be thirsty.”

“Nay, nay, nothing —from you.” He sounded harsh, his voice stronger than she’d expected. His eyes settled upon her, hard and accusing. “‘Tis a shame that you didn’t choose a more reliable method of murder than poison, my lady wife, for I still live.”

The floor seemed to sway beneath her feet. She clung to the large bedpost to support her weight as the blood drained from her. She must be hearing him wrongly, she thought wildly. She must somehow be delirious from all of the time she’d spent caring for him without a breath of air. He couldn’t mean his words, he couldn’t! “Tedric, you speak wrongly,” she responded through pale, trembling lips. “How can you think such a thing of me?”

“What a besotted fool I was!” he cried from his pillow. “To place my faith in you, a Norman, who is as treacherous as all your kind. I knew you hated me, Amberlie, I knew you detested all things Saxon, but I never thought you’d try to kill me. Never!” He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with anger and pain, such pain that she felt his torment deep within her soul.

“I am innocent!” she proclaimed. “How can you believe me guilty of such a vile and vicious crime, how?”

“Because you believe I killed your husband!” he shot back. “You wished to avenge yourself upon me. You’re adept at the art of healing for Gundred has taught you; you have pouches of herbs in the sick room and were caring for Wick. But never did I believe you’d use the power of healing for ill. Why, Amberlie, when I’d have given you the world if just once you’d have been kind to me?”

“How little you know me,” she whispered, her body quivering with the injustice of his accusation. “I freely gave myself to you, but you humiliated me time and again. Still, I said nothing to you. And though I knew I should hate you, I—I found I couldn’t hate you as I wished. Something else was happening inside me, and you saw it not.”

“Don’t tell me that you love me,” he scoffed, yet there was something like despair and hope at once in his face.

“I won’t say those words to you for I would not have them thrown back in my face by a man who believes me capable of cold-blooded murder.” She took a deep breath. “What will you do with me?”

“God in heaven, I don’t know!”

“Am I free to leave the keep?”

“Not without an escort.”

“Then I am a prisoner.”

“I have not yet thought what to do,” he said tiredly. “But I will soon depart these chambers and never return.”

“As you wish, my lord. May I leave for some air?” she asked stiffly, holding her tears at bay and feeling incredibly sick.

“Only if Christophe accompanies you.”

Inclining her head, she left the room to find Christophe on his feet. Apparently he’d heard all that was said. Her face flamed with the humiliation, the unfairness of it all. She didn’t wait for Christophe to take her arm, but went flying down the stairs and into the bailey, knowing the knight hurried behind her. She found a deserted spot next to the dovecote and fell to her knees, retching and crying at the same time.

“My Lady Amberlie, are you all right?” Christophe asked gently after she’d finished.

She rose to her feet, the bottom of her bliaut covered in mud. Her face was streaked with tears, her stomach still twisted in knots. Couldn’t the man see she wasn’t all right? But she held her tongue, for Christophe wasn’t to blame for her problem, an unkind fate was. “It seems we’re probably going to spend a great deal of time together from now on, Sir Christophe, for I am a dangerous woman.”

Christophe let loose a foul curse, then apologized. “You’re innocent, my lady. You couldn’t hurt any living thing. Lord Tedric will see the truth. He must.”

Amberlie doubted that would ever happen. Someone wished Tedric dead, any number of people could have poisoned his food or drink, but he suspected her—the one person who had never hesitated to proclaim her hatred of him—as, of course, he would. But the unfairness of the situation struck her as ironic. She, who had scorned and thought she hated him, had discovered she loved him too late.

When she returned to her chamber, she found Tedric was gone from her bed, and she knew he wouldn’t return.

Construction on the keep progressed under the guidance of Tedric and Sir Flaubert. Work on the east tower was completed and attention was turned to the other three corners of the keep. It was hoped that by the end of the coming year all three towers would be finished, and the keep would be completely fortified inside and outside from enemy attack. But who was the enemy? Tedric wondered distractedly. Was it himself, a Saxon, or the Normans? He no longer knew, the distinctions having already blurred in his mind.

And Amberlie. What was she really? His enemy, or lover? Since his poisoning he’d been tormented by the thought that she might not have been responsible, that he’d accused her of a vile deed when she was innocent. He had no way of knowing Amberlie’s true thoughts about anything, for she guarded her emotions well behind a passive exterior. Even now that he’d left their bed and accused her of a horrendous deed, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, and saw only a bland mask for a face. But sometimes, there was something in the way she looked at him, something so heart-wrenchingly sad that he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake by believing the worst of her. But if not Amberlie, then who?

“My lord, may I have a word with you?” Magda approached him as he supervised the placing of the stones by the west tower. Her step was halting, and her face composed, but there was an urgent light in her eyes. He drew her aside, believing she had something to tell him about his mother or Edytha—or perhaps Amberlie. “I’ve just seen Wulfgar near Gundred’s cottage,” she whispered softly. “He says he needs to speak to you and will wait for you.”

This was shocking and unpleasant news. Why had William’s would-be assassin come out of hiding after all of these weeks? As a servant of the king, Tedric would be duty-bound to capture Wulfgar and execute him, but Wulfgar had been his friend and no more of a renegade than himself. The man was foolhardy to place both of them in jeopardy. Tedric kindly thanked Magda and told her not to mention Wulfgar’s reappearance to anyone.

When the knights practiced their mock battle strategies that afternoon, Tedric stole away from the bailey and headed for Gundred’s cottage. Gundred was Wulfgar’s grandmother, and no doubt she was hiding him and feeding him. Perhaps he’d been hiding near there all the time.

Gundred opened the door at Tedric’s knock. With a finger on her lips, she pointed to the thick rafters above them. “Is it safe for him to come down, my lord?” she asked in just above a whisper.

“Aye, ‘tis safe.”

Gundred called softly to her grandson, and seconds later, Tedric heard rustling noises overhead and then saw Wulfgar peering down at him. The dark-haired man grabbed onto a rafter with both hands and swung down, to drop silently at Tedric’s feet.

“‘Tis good to see you again, my lord.”

Tedric wished he could say the same. An uneasy sensation reached into his stomach to see the disheveled and dirty young man. Wulfgar’s very presence was dangerous, for if anyone learned he’d been the one who’d shot at William—well, Tedric hated to dwell upon what might happen to all of them.

“What is it you want?” Tedric asked without hesitation. The sooner Wulfgar was gone from Woodrose, the better it would be for his family and his own position as lord of the keep.

“Just a talk with King William’s noblest knight, my lord,” Wulfgar sneered, his beady eyes taking in Tedric’s fine tunic and hose. “‘Tis easy to see why you betrayed our people for the Norman king. With your lands returned and a pretty Norman wife to warm your bed, you’ve sold your soul to the devil. You’ve become one of them.”

“Nay, I am not—”

“Aye, but you are. You took an arrow meant for William the Bastard to save your Norman lady’s life.”

“Amberlie was innocent. ‘Twas no reason for her to be slain too.”

“Hah! Truly, you still defend her. Tell me, Tedric, do you think she’s innocent now? I hear you’ve left her bed, fearful that she’ll poison you again.”

Gundred cackled nearby, but at Tedric’s pointed look in her direction, the old woman left the cottage.

“What is it you want with me?” Tedric bit out, managing to intimidate Wulfgar with his scowl of displeasure.

For a few seconds, Wulfgar hesitated to speak. “There is fighting still in the north,” he informed Tedric. “Our people hold out against the Normans. I pray you, consider coming with me.”

“To fight William’s army?”

“Aye. With you along, we’ll be able to gather our people and gain strength against the invaders.” Wulfgar’s face was bright, his dark eyes sparkled. “What say you, Tedric?”

Tedric sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “I say you are daft. The cause is a just one but doomed to failure. Normans overrun the entire country, except for the northern borders, and soon too those parts will fall to the conqueror. I entreat you not to follow this foolish path.”

Wulfgar reared back, and then he seemed about to attack Tedric, but Tedric grabbed at the dagger on his side. Seeing Tedric’s defensive action, Wulfgar moved away, but he scowled blackly. “‘Tis a traitor you’ve become, Tedric, a cowardly traitor to your people.”

“Nay, I am only realistic,” Tedric said boldly, but Wulfgar’s stinging retort had hurt because he spoke the truth.

“You’ve become one of them, man! You’re a Norman now, more Norman than one of the Bastard’s own knights.” Wulfgar settled down and caught his breath. He eyed Tedric suspiciously. “I head north today. May I leave without fear that you’ll set your knights upon me?”

“I give you my word, no one knows you are here. I shall tell no one. You’re free to go.”

Wulfgar nodded, and Tedric solemnly left the cottage to return to the keep. The knights were still practicing in the bailey; no one had seen him leave. Or so he thought.

~
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~

No one spoke to her. Word had filtered through Woodrose that Amberlie had tried to poison her husband. The serfs reluctantly took orders from her, but no one looked her in the eye. Tedric’s family was scornful of her, ignoring her at table. Glenna ignored her entirely. However, she didn’t ignore Tedric, having grown incredibly brazen since Tedric began to sleep elsewhere. The woman leaned close to him during meals, and his deep laugh filled the great hall at her remarks, which, of course, she whispered in his ear. It seemed that Amberlie saw them together more and more, and she didn’t have to wonder in whose bed Tedric slept. Why did she care so?

A cold wind whipped around the keep, but Amberlie felt very warm on that cloudy afternoon as she sat in the bathing tub in her chamber. A fire roared in the hearth, chasing away the chill as she washed away the grime from her fingernails. She’d been in the woods for a short time with Gundred and Sir Christophe, searching for a particular kind of autumnal bloom to be made into a love charm. Gundred declared that even the most inattentive of men would fall prey to the woman who wore such a potent charm. Before she’d left Gundred’s cottage, the old woman had placed one of the white blooms behind Amberlie’s ear. When Amberlie protested she didn’t believe in such nonsense and started to remove it, Gundred had grabbed her hand and solemnly nodded. “‘Tis a lucky charm, as well. Ye must wear it and not remove it for the rest of the day. What harm is there in indulging an old lady, eh?”

So, here she sat in her bathing tub with a ridiculous bloom behind her ear because she’d promised Gundred. The smell from the blossom was pleasant, and soon it seemed as if the whole room was bathed in the sweet, aromatic scent.

When Amberlie rose from the tub and reached for the linen towel on the floor, the chamber door opened. A gust of wind caused the fire to flicker and crackle in excitement. Air rushed over her naked flesh to dispel the earlier warmth. But Amberlie suddenly felt hot, very hot, for Tedric stood watching her inside the doorway.

It seemed that he looked at her forever. Those blue eyes of his, so icy of late, brimmed over with summer heat. Her heart thumped hard against her rib cage. It had been so long since he’d looked at her like that. Finally, he cleared his throat, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “I’m sorry for walking in. Magda told me you’d gone down to settle Wick to work in the kitchen. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I did that earlier today. Wick is helping the cook, an easy job of filling the goblets and helping to bake bread.” Calmly, she wrapped the linen around her, just as if she were perfectly used to Tedric’s walking in and finding her naked. Things had been like that once between them, but no longer. An unexpected shiver slid down her backside, and Tedric noticed and shut the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked him when he started to walk toward her.

“I’d forgotten my sword.” He inclined his head to where the silver sword leaned against the wall, but his gaze never wavered from her face. Finally his eyes moved lower and took in her full breasts, straining against the towel, before drinking in each temptingly lush curve of her body.

“I should have had Magda bring it to you,” Amberlie said, feeling the blush start at her hairline and meander to the tips of her toes. His gaze retraced its path and rested again upon her face.

“There is a great deal I’ve forgotten,” he whispered huskily, and to Amberlie’s surprise, he reached for a strand of her hair and inhaled its fragrance. “So sweet, so soft.”

She trembled, and for just a second she thought he was going to kiss her. Their lips were but scant inches apart. For seconds, she gazed into his eyes, and it seemed as if the world had ceased to exist, as if no one existed in the universe but them. She knew that he wanted her, that in some dark place of his mind he’d forgotten his accusations. Like one held in a spell, he brought her to him and gently grazed her lips with his in a whisper-soft kiss that he would have deepened except for a loud pounding at the chamber door.

“My lord! Are you in there?” It was Christophe.

Tedric drew back, the sound of Christophe’s voice startling him back to the present. “Aye, I’m here,” he called.

“Come quickly into the bailey. Sir Guy has killed a renegade.”

Immediately, Tedric paled. “Damn!” he cursed under his breath, and moved away from Amberlie.

“Tedric—what?” She didn’t truly know what to ask him or what she wanted to say. Amberlie only knew that he’d held her in his arms again, that he’d wanted her, and now he was leaving her with no words spoken between them, with nothing resolved.

Retrieving his sword, he took one last look at her, his eyes drinking in every aspect of her body. “My lady, I wish you weren’t so hauntingly beautiful. ‘Twould make things so much easier.” And then he turned away. With his departure, the room felt much colder.

Fingering the white blossom behind her ear, Amberlie wondered if indeed it was a love charm, as Gundred had told her. Had Tedric kissed her because of the blossom or because of a more potent magic?

            ~
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~

When Tedric strode into the bailey, he’d already determined whose body he would find. Wulfgar, who he’d seen alive just two days ago, now lay upon the ground, dried blood covering his tunic, and immediately Tedric realized that the man had been lanced a number of times, many times more than was necessary to kill him. Guy’s destrier stood nearby, and Guy, with an arrogant, pleased expression upon his face, rudely nudged the dead man with the toe of his boot. “One less Saxon swine to wreak havoc upon us,” he remarked upon seeing Tedric.

Tedric felt a sickening, clawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Poor Wulfgar, he thought, though he kept his face implacable. The man hadn’t had a chance from the look of things—not against a knight so cunning and dangerous as Guy de Bayonne. How had de Bayonne come across Wulfgar, a man who knew the forest well and had managed to survive on his own for the last few weeks without detection? Tedric himself hadn’t known where he was; the last time he’d seen him had been in Gundred’s cottage some two days past.

“I trust you remember that I am a Saxon by birth,” Tedric coldly reminded Guy.

“I know, my lord, but your loyalty is to our Norman king, not to such an outlaw as this criminal. The man attacked me in the forest, and to save my life, I was forced to kill him.”

“And brutally too, from the look of him.”

Guy shrugged, as if the manner of death was of no consequence. He flashed a pompous grin at Tedric and the knights who clustered around them to examine the body. “‘Twas a matter of survival, my lord. I’m certain you’d have acted similarly,”