Medieval Ever After (55 page)

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” she said with feigned seriousness. “I suppose women simply fall at your feet wherever you go and you can have your pick of them.”

He was trying very hard not to grin. Her humor was charming, and rather mocking of him, but he wasn’t offended in the least.

“Something like that,” he teased. “Women are always eager to marry a smithy.”

Cathlina laughed softly, glancing towards the smithy stalls down the avenue. “Is that your trade over there?”

She was pointing and he followed the direction of her finger. “Aye,” he replied. “My father, my brother, and me; we are the largest smithy operation in Brampton.”

Cathlina dropped her finger and looked at him. “You were very brave to come as you did,” she said. “I would not believe a smithy to be so brave.”

He was amused. “Why not?”

She cocked her head as if cornered by the question. “Because that is not your vocation,” she said, trying to explain. “You shoe horses and make weapons. You do not answer the call to arms as brave men do.”

His amusement faded.
As brave men do.
He had been a brave man, once. Her comment hammered home the fact that he was no longer among the privileged, no longer in command of thousands of men who looked to him for guidance and strength. It seemed like an eternity ago when he last held a sword. Truth was, he hadn’t thought much about it since the day he had been stripped of his weapons and lands and titles. There was no use dwelling on what he could not change. But at the moment, he was thinking on that very fact. He felt very useless.

“It was not a matter of answering the call to arms,” he said quietly. “It was simply a matter of doing what was right.”

Before Cathlina could respond, she caught sight of her father and sister coming down the avenue towards them, weaving through the crowds of people. Cathlina waved frantically at them.

“Father!” she called. “Roxane! Thank the Lord you have returned!”

Cathlina’s father was a big man, muscular in his younger days but had now gone mostly to fat. He was balding and with a growth of beard, focusing curiously on his middle daughter as she called out to him.

“What is it?” he asked, depositing a burlap-wrapped bundle into the back of the wagon. “What is amiss?”

Cathlina didn’t hold back. She told her father the entire sordid tale, watching the man’s face turn red with anger and fright. Upon hearing the horrible story, the older sister, a dark-haired young woman who had a mere shadow of her middle sister’s beauty, leapt into the back of the wagon to comfort Abechail. When Cathlina came to the part in the story where Abechail was so wonderfully saved, she pointed right at Mathias.

“This brave man came to our aid when no one else would,” she told her father. “He was wonderful. He and his brother saved us. You
must
reward him.”

Mathias was uncomfortable now that they were all focused on him. The father, his features still flushed with shock, made his way to him.

“Is this true?” he asked Mathias, as if he didn’t quite believe his daughter’s fantastic tale. “Was there truly a man to take my youngest daughter?”

Mathias could see the look of panic on the man’s face. “It is true,” he said. “But she is safe now. Lady Cathlina was quite brave. She fought him valiantly.”

The father was stunned. He turned swiftly to Cathlina, inspecting her hands and arms for bruises before kissing her palms and turning his attention to Abechail.

The youngest daughter, who had managed to calm down somewhat since her brush with violence, was now weeping and quivering again as her eldest sister and father fussed over her. Mathias could see how shaken they all were. It was, in fact, quite touching to see how much they all cared about one another. That kind of devotion was rare.

Feeling rather as if he were viewing something intensely private, he turned to leave but was halted by Cathlina. She called his name, stopping him, and by the time he turned around, she was running at him. Her soft hands grasped his arm and those big brown eyes were shining up at him.

“Please,” she begged softly. “You cannot leave before my father has had an opportunity to reward you.”

Mathias had been touched by many women. He had also touched women from time to time, purely innocent gestures that meant nothing more than polite attentiveness. But he had never felt such fire from a touch as he felt now. Cathlina’s soft hands were searing his flesh like brands. He could feel the heat all the way down to his toes.

“A reward is not necessary,” he assured her. “It was my pleasure to assist.”

“Will you at least come to Kirklinton and dine with us?” she pleaded softly. “Please allow us to show our thanks for your bravery. Do not deny us an opportunity to show you how grateful we are.”

Gazing down into that sweet face, he knew he shouldn’t agree. It wasn’t a good idea, on so many levels. As much as he wanted to accept her invitation if only to bask in Cathlina’s beauty for the evening, it simply wasn’t wise. She was a de Lara and he wanted to stay far away from anything de Lara. But as he stood there with her, having her on his arm, he felt more like a man than he had in over a year. Odd how such a gesture fortified him.
She
fortified him. But he was forced to refuse.

“Your offer is very kind but I must decline, my lady,” he said, trying not to sound cruel. “I can live the rest of my life on the gratitude you have already shown me. Anything more would seem greedy and excessive. I wish you and your family well.”

He would never forget the look on Cathlina’s face as he turned to walk away from her. It was a very difficult thing not to relent because he certainly didn’t want to cause her such disappointment, but it couldn’t be helped. He had done his good deed and would leave it at that.

He had work to do.

EXCERPT: THE FALLEN ONE

CHAPTER TWO

“Is the basket
packed?” Cathlina asked.

“It is, my lady,” the red-faced cook replied. “I just put the bread in. That should be all of it.”

In the small, cluttered kitchen of Kirklinton, she was peering into a basket laden with goodies; pear and cinnamon compote in an earthenware jar sealed with beeswax, cherries soaked in honey and wine, pickled onions, two loaves of bread baked with cheese and garlic, and small cakes that Cathlina had made herself – a little flour, lard, eggs, butter, honey, walnuts, nutmeg and cloves made delicious little bread-like cakes. Satisfied her basket was packed to her specifications, Cathlina carefully covered it with an embroidered piece of cloth. It was her own kerchief with the elaborate letters “
CLM
”, for Cathlina Lavinia Mary, stitched in the shape of vines.

“Excellent,” she said, lifting the basket off of the massive, scarred butcher table. “Thank you for your assistance”

The cook waved her off and returned to the suckling pig she had just killed. Hands wrapped around the moderately heavy basket, Cathlina headed out of the kitchen and into the yard beyond.

It was early morning in Kirklinton. In late May, the weather was warmer and they hadn’t had rain for several days, which meant the ground had dried up somewhat and the mud wasn’t what it usually was. In fact, it was rather dry and pleasant. Pleasant enough for a trip back to Brampton.

That was her plan, in any case. Dressed in a yellow linen surcoat with a matching linen cloak, the surcoat had lacings in the front of the bodice that, when tightened, emphasized her curvy figure to a fault. It was her favorite dress, given to her by her mother because the color had been so striking against her pale skin and dark hair. Cathlina’s mother, the Lady Rosalund, was rather partial to her middle daughter. She reminded her of a sister she’d had in her youth, now long dead. Therefore, Cathlina usually had the pick of the wardrobe.

Even with the favoritism of her sometimes flighty mother, she was still remarkably unselfish or spoilt. She was, however, quite head-strong, and knew that she would not be punished for whatever she decided to do because her parents could never bring themselves to discipline her. Cathlina knew, therefore, that she would not be punished for her latest scheme. It was simply something she had to do and her parents would have to understand that.

Kirklinton’s bailey was relatively small, as the castle itself wasn’t particularly large. A big, square keep constructed of bumpy gray stone sat in the middle of the complex on a slightly raised motte. There was an enclosed entry and then four rooms of various sizes on the ground floor while the second floor had three sleeping chambers and a smaller chamber used for bathing and other personal needs. On the ground floor, a trap door in the largest room, which served as a smaller great hall, led down into a dungeon-like basement for storage.

The great hall was a separate structure as was the kitchen, both of them built into the curtain wall on the north side of the complex. Cathlina headed away from the kitchen and towards the stables built against the east wall. She could smell the hay and the smells of animals, and hear the braying and bleating as the beasts were fed by the stable workers.

Clutching her basket tightly, she kept looking around to make sure no one noticed that she was dressed for travel. She did not want to be stopped before she could accomplish her mission. Fortunately, everyone seemed too busy to notice.

Cathlina’s horse, a lovely dapple gray mare that was part Belgian warm blood and part Spanish Jennet, was tearing at her hay when Cathlina entered the dark confines of the stables. A litter of kittens nestled near the stash of hay up against the rear of the stall and she had to take the time to pet each tiny furry creature. She set the basket down so she could cuddle the babies. As she put the last kitten down and turned for the horse, she caught sight of a figure standing next to her.

Startled, she gasped with fright until she realized it was her older sister. The Lady Roxane Marietta Anna de Lara was eighteen months older than her middle sister, a plain-looking girl with long features and frizzy dark hair. She was rather silly and not particularly bright, and she had a dreamy manner about her. With Roxane, other people’s concerns or quarrels didn’t interest her in the least. She was mostly focused on what made her happy. She was also quite jealous of Cathlina and often followed her, which is how she ended up in the stable.

Cathlina knew the way her sister’s mind worked. Roxane was very nosy. She was the one person who couldn’t know what she was doing. Cathlina’s heart began to race with apprehension, wondering how she was going to prevent her sister from running for their parents when she discovered her plan to leave Kirklinton. The best way to deal with Roxane was to go on the offensive and hope to bully her into submission.

“What are you doing here?” Cathlina demanded.

Roxane cocked a thin eyebrow. “I saw you come from the kitchen,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“That is none of your affair,” Cathlina hissed. “Go back to the keep.”

Roxane’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me where you are going.”

“Nay.”

“Tell me or I shall tell Mother.”

Cathlina’s expression twisted angrily. “If you tell her anything at all, I shall tell her that you were the one who stole her store of fine wine and used it to ply Beauson so that he would kiss you!”

“You would not dare!”