Lynn Wood - Norman Brides 03 (10 page)

“Wait.” The loud command echoed harshly in contrast to the respectful hush that hung over the hall.  Michel felt Elena stiffen at his side and needed no further confirmation of his guess as to the identity of the man who hailed them.  Turning to confront Elena’s beast, Michel’s eyes swept over him, taking his opponent’s measure in a swift, discerning glance. The maid’s description was a bit harsh in Michel’s opinion.  Baron Raulf was a man after all, and not one he thought the ladies would find particularly unpleasing to look upon.  His features were not gentle, but nor were they scarred.  Dark eyes stared out of a thin patrician face, but Michel recognized the impressive breadth of his shoulders was not due solely to the cut and padding of his luxurious cloak. 

But for all of the baron’s noble bearing, Michel noted his powerful hands were clenched in tight fists at his side.  Michel suspected one of those hands would even now be reaching for his sword if the circumstances did not forbid such an unpardonable breach of manners.  No, not a beast, Michel felt confident in concluding, but certainly a man who would not look kindly upon another man challenging his authority over a woman, nor his claim for a kingship.

“Yes?”  Michel responded to the other’s command.

“Who are you?”

Michel took in Raulf’s haughty glare and the disapproval and askance at the way Michel’s hand rested possessively on Elena’s arm.  He felt the slight shiver of fear that passed through her and he gently squeezed her arm in a gesture of reassurance before replying in a courteous voice. “We are friends who have come to pay our respects to the king.”

“Elena, who are these men?”

Elena’s eyes sought his, seeking permission to respond to Raulf’s arrogant inquiry.  Michel nodded his assent and allowed his lips to curve upward slightly at Raulf’s bristling outrage at her gesture.

“Surely, Baron, you know Barons Timothy, Paul and Gallagher and their men.”

The baron regarded her as if he conversed with a slow-witted child and made a sweeping motion with his hand.  Michel was forced to bite down on his lip to suppress a grin at Elena’s silent outrage at the baron’s dismissive gesture and condescending tone when he replied, “I am aware of the identity of those you speak and they are welcome here, but I think it is not a time to bring strangers among us to disturb our grief.”

Elena ignored Michel’s warning squeeze on her arm and replied boldly. “These strangers you speak of saved me from malicious kidnappers and have provided for my protection when I was unsure who I might trust.” 

Michel observed the ripples of shock across the faces of those gathered in the room at Elena’s claim of her abduction and was aware of the surreptitious glances that were being cast around the hall as each of the various contenders to the throne wondered who had dared such a bold step.

Recovering quickly from Elena’s disclosure, Raulf rebuked her, “You should have come to me.”

At Michel’s silent warning, Elena clenched her lips closed to stifle the sarcastic laugh he could feel threatening to erupt at the baron’s obscene suggestion, and obediently offered in its place, “There was no opportunity to do so. I was kidnapped from my bed and taken from the city.  Were it not for these men, I shudder to think what may have happened to me.  Given the great service they have rendered me, I no longer consider them strangers.  They have been my saviors.”

Michel had to give the other man credit.  He barely paused for breath before responding in a tone one might judge almost friendly in its courtesy, “Then we of course owe them a debt of gratitude for their intervention.  But the risk has now past and it is time for you to return to the safety of the palace.”

“I think not, Baron,” Elena did not hesitate to refute Raulf’s suggestion.  “Until the question of my uncle’s successor has been resolved, I have no plans to return to the keep.”

One autocratic brow arched over the baron’s piercing glance but it was in a condescending tone of almost gentle regret that he responded to Elena’s challenge. “Forgive me, my dear, but you have no choice other than to obey me. With your uncle’s death, I am now your legal guardian and responsible for your welfare.  You will return to your chambers in the keep immediately.”

Michel witnessed the color drain from Elena’s face at Raulf’s claim.  Her arm he still held clasped in his shook noticeably, but Michel couldn’t help but admire the way she stood her ground in the face of the baron’s assured proclamation.  “You lie.  My uncle would never appoint you my guardian.”

Amusement lit Raulf’s expression now at her spirited challenge.  “And why not?  I was his closest friend and most trusted advisor.  Who else would Barnabas appoint to see to your welfare?”

Elena raised desperate eyes to Michel’s face.  He met them, willing her to remain calm with a slight pressure on her arm.  He cast a mild glance in the direction of the man who no longer appeared amused by the way Elena looked to Michel to rescue her and the way she was now clinging frantically to his hand.  “Do you have proof of your claim, baron?”

“I do not answer to you, boy.” Raulf’s calm demeanor slipped a little in his outrage at Michel’s query.

Keeping his tone mild, as much because it served to further enrage his opponent as because a display of his own temper would not serve his purpose, Michel asked innocently, “But surely you answer to the friends of the king gathered here.  They must be aware of the king’s great affection for his niece.  Do they not act as her guardians in the king’s stead?”

“The stranger speaks the truth.”  A voice called out from among the previously silent, but deeply interested witnesses to their exchange.  “Do you have proof, Baron Raulf that King Barnabas appointed you Lady Elena’s guardian?”

Raulf swung his enraged glance on his new target.  With obvious effort he forced himself to reply calmly to the other man’s challenge, while at the same time his expression promised a day of reckoning for his insult.  “Barnabas spoke the words with his dying breath.  His thoughts were ever on his beloved Elena’s future.”

“So there were no witnesses to the king’s proclamation?” Michel prompted in a voice of feigned innocence, then added as Raulf’s glance swung back to duel with his, “Was there no one else in the room at the moment of the king’s passing?”

“No.  We were alone.”

“Convenient for you,” Michel commented and knew he only gave voice to the implication the others were unwilling to.

“He wished to speak with his closest friend in his final moments.”  It was obvious Raulf did not care for being put in a position of having to explain his actions. 

“You say the king’s main concern was for his niece?”

“Of course.”  Though Raulf clearly felt on firmer ground with this line of query, he was obviously restraining his impatience with an effort.

“And the king had been ill for some time?”

“What business the answer to your question is to you, a stranger amongst us, who seeks no doubt to profit from our grief and that of Lady Elena’s innocence, I cannot fathom.”

Michel bowed his head, aware of the scrutiny Raulf’s comment was now rendering him.  “Lady Elena tells me the king had been ill for some time.  It seems to me if she was his most pressing concern, he would have made more formal provision for his beloved niece’s future.”

He could see his argument struck home among the witnesses to their exchange and Raulf was once again forced to defend his claim. “Barnabas was hopeful he would recover.  It was not until the very end he was forced to accept the truth.”

“Forced by you, Baron?”

Raulf took a threatening step forward.  “Be careful of your tongue, boy.  I do not care for your implication.”

“I imagine the king did not care for it either.”

“Get out!  You have no rights here.” Raulf’s hand instinctively reached for his sword and Michel guessed he would have issued a challenge to settle the matter between them then and there had not his hand come up empty.

Eyeing his frustration, Michel proffered a rather mocking bow in Raulf’s direction.  “As to my rights, Baron, that is a matter to be decided upon another, more appropriate occasion.”  Michel then turned his attention to his silent companion.  “Lady Elena, have you completed your farewells?”

He smiled at the expression on her upturned face. She was regarding him with shining eyes, her relief evident, and a stunned astonishment of his defense of her reflected in their dusky depths, as if she did not expect him to champion her, as though she had expected he would simply hand her over to the beast.  “Yes, my lord, I am quite ready to leave with you.” Her voice was clear and rang out around the hall.

Michel sent another mocking bow in Raulf’s direction and did not bother to attempt to temper the great satisfaction he took in leaving him seething in his wake.  He gave Elena’s hand a quick squeeze where it still rested in his and was aware of the amused sparkle in Amele’s glance when they passed by his side, though his old friend maintained an appropriately reserved expression when they turned away from the gathering and strode confidently from the king’s hall. Michel had little doubt their passage through the gates of his new kingdom would give rise to significantly greater interest than had their arrival.  He also suspected there would be a few hastily assigned spies to follow in their wake.

Elena paused on the steps to greet some acquaintances who hailed her to offer their condolences. Michel could see by her reception Barnabas had not exaggerated the citizen’s affection for his young niece. She kept her exchanges brief and quiet, and then as if unwilling to keep him waiting any longer, she allowed Michel to assist her onto her mount and sat staring down at him with an expression that implied he was the beginning and end of her entire world.  A light blush stained her lovely face and Michel witnessed a riot of conflicting emotions chase themselves across her expressive features… relief, gratitude, admiration, and a new deeper emotion he was hesitant to put a name to. 

Wary of it, he quickly inserted into the silence between them, “I believe you would be safe now if you chose to remain within the city.  I imagine you are not accustomed to sleeping on a rough pallet on the cold ground.”

Elena did not hesitate to deny his suggestion she remain behind. “At least I find the comfort of slumber on my rough pallet and do not lie awake dreading what is to come when night falls.”

He nodded, and then turning to retrieve the reins of his own mount, gained Arden’s back in a single, graceful movement and as one, their company turned and rode down the streets, aware of the whispers that followed them as they did.

Finalizing the details of their plans took on greater urgency after their confrontation with Raulf and his supporters. Michel comprehended Raulf would not rest idly with the knowledge his ascension to the throne and his rights to Elena would not be accomplished without a challenge from a source he had been previously unaware of, and consequently unable to prepare for. The baron would not have missed the significance of the presence of Barons Timothy, Paul and Gallagher among their company and would have concluded that some of the noble families would not support his claim for kingship and had aligned themselves with a stranger to Calei. 

Michel comprehended Raulf was not the only one of his future subjects speculating as to his identity.  He imagined everyone present in the hall today had their own theories, but that the majority would rightly conclude he must be one of King Nathaniel’s grandsons.  Why else would three of the kingdom’s noblemen be in his company? 

The other impetus for pushing forward with their plans was the increasing restlessness of his men.  After long months and years in training to be so close to their goal and be forced to wait around shirking in the mountains would only lead to trouble and dissent among them.  They were primed for a fight.  Michel did not want his men to waste their deadly skills on each other.

Still he hesitated to give the order to attack the city.  Was he some enemy marauder that sought to steal Calei’s rich throne? Was he not the rightful king?  Did a just man attack his own people?

“Perhaps it is time you revealed your presence to the people, my prince,” Amele spoke into the silence that had fallen among those gathered to debate their next move, interrupting Michel’s inner debate.

Baron Paul agreed.  “There is already a great deal of speculation among the citizens as to your identity. There were a few present in the great hall this morning who remember your grandparents.  The majority of the servants at the keep have outlived their kings.  The news of a stranger who was not afraid to openly challenge Raulf’s authority and whose striking blue eyes bring to mind Queen Alyssa’s own must be even now spreading like wildfire through the city. The people will not be slow to conclude rightfully that one of the true heirs to the throne has at long last returned to Calei to restore the royal line.”

Persuaded, Michel nodded, “Then let us not keep the people in suspense any longer to have their speculations confirmed. Send word to the noble families that the time has come to settle the question of who will rule Calei in the wake of Barnabas’ passing.  We will assemble in the great hall of the castle tomorrow at noon. Raulf will not appreciate our taking over the king’s home for our purposes, but nor will he prevent the nobles from gathering to discuss the very matter he wants resolved as quickly as anyone.  Prepare the men.  Though we all hope for a peaceful transition of power, my heart tells me there will be blood shed before the matter of the succession is settled.”

“If you seek my opinion, my prince, your heart speaks truly.  It will not matter to Raulf how just is your claim to your grandfather’s throne.  The baron already considers himself king and will not surrender either the kingship of Calei or the Lady Elena without a fight.”  It was Gabriel who spoke out and the others quickly added their assenting voices to his.

Michel replied, “If it is my blood Raulf seeks, I am in the mood to accommodate him.  It is only the blood of the innocent I am reluctant to shed and I have a feeling the baron is no innocent.”

“What will you do about Lady Elena in the interim?”  Paul asked.

Michel turned to Timothy.   “I cannot leave her here in the forest.  Will your family take her in and see to her protection until the matter of the kingship is resolved one way or the other?”

“I should be honored to render you this service, my prince, as I previously assured my friend, Barnabas,” Timothy replied with a slight bow, and then added with a knowing smile curving his lips and laughter lurking in his expression, “but I think the lady will resist any plan that takes her from your side.”

Amused concurrence with Timothy’s conclusion was echoed in the laughter of those surrounding him.  Michel greeted their amusement at his expense with a resigned shrug and an answering smile, “Undoubtedly, but I can hardly wield a sword with the maid seated on the saddle in front of me.”  Fresh laughter erupted at the picture he painted, and he added on a sigh, “I will speak with Elena and attempt to convince her I am not abandoning her to a fate worse than death.” When his companions’ amusement died down, his voice took on a new seriousness when he turned in Amele’s direction, “If things go ill for me, my friend, you will act as the maid’s guardian in my stead.  If she wishes to leave Calei, take her to my grandmother.  I have a feeling the two will discover they have much in common.”

Amele held his glance for long moments as if seeking some sign of a purpose Michel had not shared with the others, then apparently satisfied by what he read in Michel’s expression, nodded his assent.  “As you command, my prince.”

“We will leave in the morning with enough show of force that the baron will think twice about challenging us before the meeting has been called.  As we planned, the remaining men will surround the city and engage only upon my order, if and when, a peaceful transition of power eludes us.”

Elena sought the privacy of her tent as soon as they returned to the camp after paying her final respects to her Uncle Barnabas.  She hadn’t realized the true extent of the terror she’d lived under these last long months of her uncle’s illness until she was forced to confront Raulf face to face.  When he made his bold announcement that her uncle had left her in his care, her heart had lodged in her throat.  Along with her heart was a solid knot of horror that had made it impossible for her to draw a breath.

She stood now in the center of her tent staring down at her hands clasped together in front of her, unable to do anything to still their uncontrollable trembling.  Her thoughts were busy reminding her of the narrowness of her escape.   If she hadn’t been kidnapped from her bed… if Prince Michel had not been her savior that fateful morning, she would even now be dreading the prospect of marriage to Raulf and all that such a commitment implied.

For a moment, while their company gathered in the castle hall, surrounded by the heads of the noble families of Calei, she feared, despite his repeated promises to the contrary, that her rescuer would abandon her to the baron’s mercy.  The recollection of that awful moment settled harshly on her unsteady shoulders. She thought she must be suffering from some sort of delayed reaction to the reprieve she was granted. 

Her hands were shaking so badly her entire being was trembling.  She tried to raise one of them to her face to brush the stinging tears from her eyes and found herself unable to do so.  Instead she wrapped her arms around her stomach as much to still their trembling as in an instinctive gesture of protection and the next moment found herself doubled over in her effort to stifle the deep, rending sobs that threatened to overcome her.

That was how Michel came upon her, almost on her knees struggling to reconcile a mixture of dazed fear that her reprieve from Raulf’s grip would be short-lived and a desperate hope that it was real, that she would be granted lasting freedom from the jaws of the beast who readied himself to feed on her tender flesh.  The sound of her name pierced her dazed thoughts and she swung around at the echo of her savior’s familiar voice coming from the entrance of her tent. 

Their glances met.  She saw him take in her pitiful state and immediately his incredible eyes filled with understanding and compassion.  Ashamed of her weakness, yet unable to prevent herself from acting on it, she closed the distance between them on trembling legs and flung herself against his chest.  His strong arms closed around her and drew her close against his heart until she abandoned her shaky attempts to regain control of her unsteady limbs and simply clung to his strength.  Here was safety.  Here was warmth.  Here was everything she’d dreamt of in the blackest nights of her despair. 

Her sobs flooded his chest.  She was so occupied with her tears, she was barely aware of Michel half-tugging, half-carrying her back to the center of the tent.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  She whispered her broken apologies against the side of his neck, her lips brushing his ear.

Michel was not immune to her softness pressed up against him, but he understood what she needed now was his comfort and reassurance, not his lust.  “Did I mistake your wishes then? Did you prefer to remain in the city?”  He teased and was relieved when Elena let out a little, soggy laugh against his chest. 

She raised her damp glance to his and shook her head, thinking to explain her piteous condition. “No, it’s just I didn’t realize how frightened I was of what would have happened to me if you hadn’t saved me.  Before you came I had concocted all of these foolish, half-formed plans to escape Raulf’s reach by fleeing the city and seeking out a hiding place in the mountains.  When I was kidnapped, even though I was terrified, part of me was grateful to my abductors for making it easy for me to leave the city.  When I fell off the back of the horse, I was convinced that if I could only escape my bonds and avoid being captured again by my kidnappers, I would have a chance.”  Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she tacked on with a self-deprecating smile, “As if it was a simple matter for me to survive alone and find shelter in the mountains even though I possess no useful knowledge or skills pertaining to such things.”

“You planned to leave the safety of the city?” Michel echoed stunned by his young ward’s confession.  All he could think about was the disastrous consequences of his twin’s flight away from their ancestral home in advance of the Norman invasion of Saxony, and Melissa had been very well-trained in the skills required to survive on her own in the wild.  Michel’s heart clenched when he thought of Elena at the hands of the madman who very nearly killed his twin. The young innocent he held in his arms would have been no less than a lamb led to slaughter beneath his vicious assault. “Have you any comprehension of what you risked if you were able to execute such a ridiculous plan?”

Elena was oddly comforted by Michel’s blatant disapproval.  Willing to acknowledge the foolishness of her desperate plan to escape Raulf’s reach, she braved Michel’s blazing blue eyes and responded in a soft voice, “I am certain you are correct and I had no real understanding of the risks I would have confronted outside the city’s gates.  I thought it likely I would die trying to escape, but death was preferable to the alternative awaiting me at Raulf’s hands.  My greater fear was that the holy church would consider my flight into the mountains an act of suicide and I would be condemned to hell for all eternity because I passed from this life with the stain of a mortal sin on my soul.”

Michel couldn’t get past his astonishment at the realization of the true depths of Elena’s innocence.  He hadn’t realized such purity still existed in this world.  At the same time he was trying to recover from the casual way she spoke of her own death. Didn’t she comprehend that there were worse fates than freezing to death in the mountains?

“Elena…” he decided it was his duty to set her straight, but his voice trailed off when she simply stared at him with a knowing expression in her soft brown eyes that belied his conclusion of her naivety.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you are a man and therefore could never truly comprehend what it is like to be alone and defenseless in the world and at the mercy of someone like the baron.”

Michel swallowed his instinctive denial when he realized she spoke the truth.  How could he truly enter into her feelings about the bleak future she faced subject to Raulf’s power?  What did he know of being truly defenseless against an opponent of far greater strength?  For a man, for a soldier, death, or being so gravely injured as to render him useless, were the most feared outcomes on the battlefield.  For a woman, particularly a young innocent like Elena who could not even raise a sword in her own defense, there were greater fears to be confronted than death. 

Hadn’t Melissa tried to make him understand the very same point?  He’d thought his twin was simply overdramatizing things, the way she was wont to do, but seeing the remembered terror in Elena’s eyes he acknowledged he’d never fully understood the reasons prompting Melissa’s desperate gamble to elude capture by the invading Norman army. Yet this young maid entered into his twin’s feelings as he, the one closest to her, had been unable to.  Despite his revelation Michel recognized it would not serve his current purpose to agree with Elena’s point.

“Elena, you are not to worry about such things.  I want your word you will never do anything so foolish as to attempt to flee into the mountains on your own.”

She evaded giving him her promise by pointing out, “Your grandmother escaped into the mountains.  She knew what the king’s enemies would do to her.  She recognized her only hope to save her life and that of the child she carried was to take her chances in the wilderness.”

In a gesture of pure male frustration, Michel thrust a swift hand through his hair and immediately pointed out the flaw in her logic, “My grandmother did not flee into the mountains alone.  Amele and a company of soldiers accompanied her.  In time, others joined them.  She was never alone.”

Elena nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but just when Michel felt the hard knot of tension begin to dissolve in his chest, she added obstinately, “But I would wager if there was no one to accompany her she would have fled into the mountains alone in order to protect the child she carried…your mother.”