Telepathy of Hearts (25 page)

As he spoke a very young maid ran beside Arthur, grabbing his reins. Upon her head she wore a holly crown. Upon her feet nothing. Eleanor beamed at the child and leaned forward to receive a holly crown for her head.

Matheus watched his bride-
to-
be. The delight that twinkled in Eleanor
's eyes shot a bolt of passion straight into his chest, making him physically puff his chest. His male pride purred with satisfaction.

The little hand that passed her the crown was small and grubby. The sweetest voice came from this chubby cherub, the most endearing, toothless smile followed.
“
'Tis for you, my Lady, for
'tis holly and will keep the evil from you. Ma teld me so, dat Satan fair came for you. But the Green Man of the forest sent you a cur and he bitten him, so doth he flee. Holly on your head will make the Green Man protect ye. Ma says you can stop the row of the red and white roses. My Lady, the men, they come to see you to Lincoln safe
…pardon my Lord
…Master. Earl...Sir
…Knight.
”

Laughing, Matheus threw the child a shilling. Watching Eleanor put on her crown he continued to speak.
“They love you already Eleanor
…
”

Who could not?
His eyes drank in the wild, wondrous and witty beauty who rode beside him. His arm gestured to the villagers and townsfolk, his people around them.
“They come to ensure you remain safe. These men who walk with us are quite willing to lay down their li
ves
in your protection.
In
the
Cousin
'
s
W
ar against each other, we lose some land perhaps, some knights, and on occasion our lives. I
t is their sons who die in the
thousands, their children who starve
,
and these women
who
are left bereft.
”

Matheus watched
Eleanor
's
expression
as she
pulled at her lip.
Her eyes sorrowful, she looked at the gathering who sang around them. Turning to her
,
he spoke in a low timbre.
“There has been peace these past years with the old king. There is a weight on our shoulders, Wife.
Perhaps even blood on our hands if
…we
…well
,
you know there needs to be an heir for all their futures, not only our own.
”

It was easy to see Godwin was delighted. The yule song they sang was pagan from the old ways. Matheus had noticed him literally rubbing his hands with glee when he saw his Mistress put on the holly crown
“Takes more than a bloody big
Cathedral to persuade a common man that God is on their side, especially when the friars grow fat and the children grow skinny. My Lady, it looks fine on you. We call it Golon
Celyn.
”

“Godwin, when you say we, who is the
we
? Are you not a Galle
…a Welshman? Are they not small?
” Eleanor enquired.

Matheus laughed a little, interrupting.
“Small in some parts, I dare say, if the stable lad is to be believed.
”

Godwin raised a brow at his lord.
“Vikings, my Lady, came up the rivers from the sea to my homeland. They had not nearly enough daughters and the Galles too many sons. So on the yule they would come. Set fire to the log to burn twelve days. Galles folk would take a son in exchange for a daughter. My master, he is just jealous, my Lady. No King has to search for me a bride. Ladies and maids they come a running.
” Smiling as he spoke, he winked at Eleanor and rode back up to Goody.

By the time the couple had reached the East Gate of Lincoln the throng were ten abreast and numbered over a thousand. Wedding favours from embroidered linen to ivy garlands were tied upon the horses. With bright banners and trims
,
the procession looked like the joust. Delighting in the sight that the King
's standard flew above his home, Matheus wiped his face in relief. The roughness of his glove catching on his stubble. He cared not. His body ached. But his heart and head, for once in agreement, rejoiced.

He noticed that Lady Bruce had arrived, for the gate was decorated with the green and red of the season.

Her decorative hand or rather her use of the birch has guided the castle hands and staff to provide the most pleasant of welcomes.

Lady Bruce and the old Earl had taken a different route. It had been decided that whomever wished to attack or kidnap would have to divide their resources.

We will all be making merry tonight;
'tis the eve of our Lord
's birth, and there will be bride ale to be drunk.
How have they have fared under Mother Bruce
?

He was laughing loudly, absorbed in his own thoughts, imagining her running around his home like the cat chasing mice, birch in hand. When he turned to look for Eleanor he was shocked. She was gone. The sword leaving its sheath blazed as if ignited by the winter sun. His drawn blade like a mirror, dazzling the eyes of all who viewed it as he armed himself ready. On his tongue was the bitter taste of fear, and his eyes alive with terror. Matheus
's face was wolf-
like.

The calming voice of Godwin spoke.
“Whoa now, Sire, what chides you?
Please sheath your sword. Your maid has gone to the women; she is not lost to you.
”

A hand gripped his arm, and he breathed out as if it was his last.
“
'Tis more like a goat you are Sire
…than a bull,
” Godwin ribbed him.
“For you must either shave or shape it for your whiskers are enough to scare the poor maid off.
Perhaps that is it, Sire. She thought you the Earl of Leicester. The old Goat come to think of it. You could have been birthed together as twins.
”

The sound of his own stone and cobbles beneath Simon
's hooves was a relief. The thought of riding any further was cause enough to make his mood one of pique. He had been so happy less than an hour ago. In his head he had been so bold
in his thoughts as
to ask the Bishop to bless their bed so he could at least beg her bathe him. Now she would be lost to him until St
.
Stephen
's day, and as the eve drew to dusk and darkened, Matheus
's mood did also.

* * * *

Sitting at the side of the King, Matheus
's mood had not lightened. The feast was spectacular. Lady Bruce, backed by Matheus
's coffers, had surpassed herself. Tables groaned
with sweetmeats and fancies, a
ll colours
,
all textures. Lady Bruce
's new obsession, the cockatrice, was positioned to be pride of place.

Matheus
's brow raised as he viewed it. The strange creature, half a suckling pig sewn to the rear of a cock chicken was more of the demon world than this. Even more importantly, what
did you do with the other ends?

After midnight he found himself twitching. The King was playing knuckles in the corner with Sir
Peveril, the ladies long since retired. Most of the men were singing or snoring. The bride ale was a strong brew.

A wicked smile broke his melancholy.

Priest
's
bones; I hope it doesn
't give Goody the vapours. The sergeant will think the buttresses breached.

As he put his fingers to his mouth to stop his laughter escaping, the sound of love escaped his. A sweet sigh. His mind
's eye was remembering how they had laughed in the tent last night. Goody chiding them as their tears rolled.

He could hear her. Giggling and laughing. He could smell her. Rose water and camomile. Taste her. Soap and honey. Feel his hands in her hair.

Be damned for am I not Master of my own
Castle.

The cockatrice will do well for my surprise.

He stuffed some of it into his gillet
.
His cheeks were kissed. Hands ruffled his hair, and his back felt the blows of many a slap. As Matheus made his exit, the men, his men, showed their Sire their love
…every drunken one of them.

“You drink not the bride
's ale
…show her some love and drink with us Sire.
”

“The Gods are with me it would seem,
” Matheus voiced in amusement as the soldier passed out and poured his flagon over his feet. Swiftly as he was allowed, he made his way out of the great hall, not wanting to draw attention to where he headed. As a shadow, he passed unnoticed, by guards and guests alike. Lincoln
C
astle,
his childhood playground
,
t
here was not a nook or a cranny he had not hid in. Nor a
machicolation he had not swung from.

Eleanor resided in the Unthinkable Room. Thus named because it had a stained glass window. Deeply religious, Matheus
's mother had requested the unthinkable as a wedding present. A stained glass window in a Norman
Castle. Where there was glass
,
there was a weak point. Glass itself was for the mighty rich. But a stained glass one absurdly expensive and potentially fatal.

She was denied nothing by her doting husband, and the window was installed, the glass protected by enormous metal and wood shutters if the castle were sieged. Fortunately, the protective metal shutters had never been needed. Thankfully, for two hundred years, the castle lay un-
stormed.
“Always a first,
” Matheus muttered playfully as he planned his assault.

Once on the allure right at the top of the castle, he sniggered like the boy knight of years ago
—
the boy knight who once protected the Lady, now grown into the man who wished to capture her. The focus of his mirth was the two guards who had crossed themselves in holy blessing, thinking they had seen a spectre as he had made his way past them. Hanging upside down, his boots were hooked in the edging of the
machicolation. Happy with himself on his deft ability, he mused,

Tis easier with the boots of a man than a boy.

The two-
hundred-
foot drop that lay beneath did not faze him. Matheus had the grin of a beggar at the feast emblazoned across his face. And the libido of The Old Goat as his groin was just as delighted as he viewed her.
“Eleanor
…Eleanor
…Eleanor.
” As he rattled at the window, his voice fought with the sound of Goody
's snoring

Pressing her face against the stained glass, looking through the window to view the disturbance, her lips touched the cold glass ones of St
,
Crispin.

“Unhand my Wife, you knave. You call yourself a man of the cloth,
” He shouted through the glass.

Eleanor squealed in response.
“Matheus?
”

He pressed his lips hard on the glass and she responded with hers. Separated by the window, exchanging the intimacies of lovers, Matheus and Eleanor kissed.