The Conqueror (Hot Knights) (7 page)

“And what is my share in the bargain?” she asked.

“Your share?” He cocked his head. “You will have control of your own household and a claim in Oxbury’s prosperity.”

“And freedom from your attentions?”

He studied her coolly. “For the moment.”

Edeva sucked in her breath in anger. ’Twas not enough! She bargained with the devil himself and still he gave her no assurances!

But what else could she do? Besides, the longer she held him off, the greater chance that her brothers would think of some plan to retake Oxbury and free her from this nightmare

“How will you make certain I do not escape?” she asked.

“One of my men will guard you.”

“And at night? Will you continue to lock me in?”

His green eyes glittered. “At night I will sleep beside you and guard you myself.”

* * *

Edeva walked out in the yard, taking deep breaths. Though the odors of dung and garbage tainted the fresh autumn air, she refused to let it ruin her mood. At last, she was free of that stuffy, stultifying chamber. For a few moments, she meant to enjoy the sheer pleasure of being outside.

She longed to climb the gatetower and look out at the valley, to drink in the colors of the turning forest and the sparkle of the river. But she feared that the man guarding her would complain to his commander that she sought to escape.

She turned to look at her gaoler, boldly facing him down. It was the same young solder who had brought her food and drink. He flushed under her gaze, but did not look away. Mayhaps he had learned that she did not really bite. Certainly, he took his duty seriously, trailing her like a devoted puppy. She worried a little what he would do when she needed to use the jakes.

“What’s your name?” she asked him in Norman French.

He looked startled.

“Your name,” she repeated. “If you are to spend your every waking moment with me, I would know what to call you.”

“’Tis Rob,” he said. “Rob of Lascalles.”

“I am Edeva.”

“Edeva,” he repeated. “Where did you learn our language? None of the others understand us.”

“My father brought a woman from Flanders to teach me sewing. She spoke the Norman tongue and considered it much superior to Saxon. She would speak naught else with me, so I was forced to learn your speech.”

“That is good. Now you can help us deal with the other Saxons.”

Edeva’s ire immediately rose. “I have agreed to see that Oxbury continues as a prosperous, efficient manor, but I will aid you Normans in naught else. You are still my enemies!”

The young soldier stiffened and Edeva felt a stir of satisfaction. She would not be unkind to him, but she would not allow him to grow easy either.

A moment later, Edeva considered the foolishness of her prideful words. Why did she inflame his suspicions? ’Twould it not be wiser to lull him into complacency?

“Where are the kitchen wenches?” she asked him. “The weaving women?”

He shrugged. “I know not. Some of them might still be abed. The men...” His face flushed.

“Have them all brought out to me,” Edeva ordered. “Tell them to make themselves presentable. Their mistress commands them.”

Rob glanced at her, then toward the manor outbuildings. She could see he was torn. Would he do her bidding even if it meant allowing her out of his sight?

“I will remain here,” she said. “I give you my word.”

It took some time, but eventually, all the women straggled out into the yard. A few had managed to braid their hair, but the majority looked disheveled and filthy. Some, the younger, prettier ones—had dark circles under their-eyes and a strained look to their faces.

Observing their listless expressions, some of Edeva’s irritation faded. ’Twas clear they had been well-used by the men. By now most of them had discovered that being a servant in her household was less demanding than whoring for Normans. She would not chastise them. How could they do otherwise than they had?

“Many things have been neglected these past days,” she said. `Neither you nor I have been free to pursue our duties. But that will change now. Our first task will be to restore the hall to its former tidiness. When we have finished with that, I will assign you other work. There is much to do before winter,” she warned, “and we are sore behind.”

“But what about... them?” A slight, curly-haired girl spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Several women glanced nervously around the yard.

“The Normans will molest you no longer.”

“How can this be?” one of the women asked. “How will you make them leave us alone?”

“The leader of the Normans has given me complete authority over the running of the manor. If any of his men bother you, come to me and I will take the matter up with him

“See how cozy she is with the red-haired giant?” Golde, a cat-eyed wench who worked in the weaving shed, stepped forward and planted her hands on her curvaceous hips. “He’s made her his doxy. Why should we listen to her?”

Edeva tensed. She had warned the Norman this would happen. “I am not his whore,” she said coldly. “And I am still your mistress. If you do not obey me, I will have you flogged.”

Golde smirked, but moved back, as if accepting Edeva’s authority.

The group was silent for a time; then the curly-haired girl spoke again. “I, for one, am happy that Lady Edeva commands us. I am tired of the crude Normans and their disgusting, lustful habits. They scarce give me any peace... and I worry... what will happen to me if I get with a babe!” she ended in a wail.

Two other women put their arms around the girl, who began to weep. Soon the whole group of women had dissolved into tears. For a time, Edeva allowed them to cry and complain and comfort each other. Then she said, “’Tis enough. We have work to do. You can curse the Normans while we clean.”

* * *

Jobert gazed in satisfaction around the hall. Only one day had passed, and already things appeared much improved. The sweet scent of rosemary and lavender rose from the fresh rushes, and he could run his hand along the trestle table and feel smooth wood, not encrusted grime.

Even the food seemed better—the pottage more skillfully seasoned, the bread crustier. The brewer had not had time to make another batch of ale, but Jobert knew Edeva had spoken to Alan and made it clear that certain servants were not to be taken from their specialized duties. Alan had complained to him, grumbling that the Saxon bitch left them with no sturdy laborers. Jobert had pointed out that now that the men weren’t constantly rutting with serving wenches, they had time to do more themselves.

Things were much improved, indeed. And he had the Saxon woman to thank for it.

He glanced to where she stood at the side of hall. With her fair hair covered and her simple gown, she looked demure and womanly, like some minor lord’s wife.

But she was no biddable, dutiful matron, and well he knew it. At any moment, those clear blue eyes could flash with cold fire, those full lips shout oaths to burn his ears.

Nor was she as plain and ordinary as she sought to appear. He recalled the voluptuousness of her body, the ivory perfection of her skin. His shaft rose at the memory.

And he was to share a bedchamber with her this night.

What madness had made him tell her that? Though sharing her bed might intimidate her and keep her fearful, it was going to be pure hell for him. He was not certain he could resist the lure of her beauty, no matter that he had given her his word.

For a moment, he let his mind linger on the idea of parting her white thighs and thrusting deep. Of feeling her dewy, pink sheath closing tight around him.

Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, he forced the enticing image from his mind. He dared not lose the only leverage he had over the Saxon. If he could not threaten her with rape, how would he ever control her? He would be a poor commander indeed if he indulged his body’s hunger and lost as strategic advantage over his opponent. Bedding her must wait.

As he watched, a young woman came up and spoke to Edeva. The girl’s face was pale, her cheeks tear-streaked. Edeva consoled her for a moment, then grasped her sleeve and gave her a little shake. The girl sniffled, and then went off.

Edeva continued to stand and observe the comings and goings of the hall. Jobert had the sudden thought that she must be tired. He motioned to one of the squires. “Have the woman come and sit with me.”

She looked startled when the squire spoke to her. Her gaze found Jobert, and she shot him a hostile look. He met her expression with amusement. Their eyes locked and held.

Jobert let his glance move down her body. Her face went rigid as she guessed his thoughts. She walked stiffly toward him.

He gestured to the bench beside him. “Sit down, Lady Edeva.”

“I am no lady to you,” she said through clenched teeth, although she did his bidding.

He pointed toward the bowl of pottage a squire had brought. “Eat. You have worked hard today, and I am well pleased.”

“I do not do any of it to please you!”

“But you have.” He touched the wool of his new tunic. “Your needlework is the finest I have seen. And your skill at ordering servants—verily I proclaim you a worker of miracles for the changes you have wrought in this place in one short day.”

A muscle jumped in her cheek, and she clutched her eating knife with a vigor that suggested what she wished to do with it.

“I’ll say no more,” he said. “I would not have you claim a bellyache because I disturbed you while you ate.”

She made a disgusted sound, and then began to take careful bites of the stew.

E
deva could feel his eyes on her as she ate. It made it difficult for her to swallow.

Putting down her eating knife, she took a sip from the cup in front of her. She made a face. “What is this?”

“The last of the wine from our traveling rations.”

“’Tis wretched stuff.”

He regarded her with a wry expression. “Better than the ale we had last even. None of the men would drink it. The brewer tapped it too soon. Now, we must wait for another batch.”

“Water would be better.”

He nodded. “I’ll have some fetched for the ewer in the bedchamber.’

The word “bedchamber” made the rest of Edeva’s appetite depart. Any moment the Norman might suggest they go upstairs. Would he sleep with his clothes off? Insist she remove hers?

Heated images swirled in her brain.

She forced herself back to the present. There were important things they needed to discuss. “I have promised the women that your men will leave them alone,” she told him. “Otherwise, they will not have the time or energy to do their duties.”

He nodded. “I agree with you, although ’twill not be easy to make the men give up their pleasure. They have grown used to rutting wherever they please.”

“Well, they will have to learn to curb their lust!” Edeva said hotly. “To run smoothly, the manor requires not only the efforts of the servants who live within the palisade, but the sokemen and their families in the village. We cannot do the butchering, nor process the wool, nor do many other important tasks if the villagers are afraid to enter the palisade. I am used to having several of the sokemen’s daughters spin and weave for me all winter, but they will not come this year unless I can assure their parents that they will not be ravished by your men!”

The Norman grunted. “I am aware that I need the aid of the villagers. Without them to fish the river, to gather nuts from the wood and to tend the beehives, we will be doomed to a monotonous diet this winter. And by next spring, they must be ready to plow and sow the fields or we’ll all starve.” His voice rose in frustration. “I know these things, but I am not sure of the means to gain their cooperation. How can I convince them I do not mean them ill?”

“You will not convince them until it is the truth! As long as your men feel free to rape any woman who crosses their path, why should my people trust any Norman?”

“Have any of the men bothered you?” the Norman asked, his voice sharp.

“Of course not. As you have said, they are all afraid of me.”

“Mayhaps that is the means of it then. You must teach the other women to be as fierce as you are.”

He was teasing her. Edeva felt certain of it. She cleared her throat. “Promise me that you will speak to them. That you will give them strict orders to leave my women alone.”

“Agreed,” he said. “’Tis time they settled down and behaved as proper soldiers rather than worthless louts.”

Edeva ate in silence for a time. She could still feel the Norman watching her, and the tension in her belly did not abate. With every bite she took, the time grew nearer when they would go upstairs to bed. She both dreaded that moment and felt a vague sense of expectation.

When the last bits of meat on her trencher were gone, the Norman reached over and threw the gravy-soaked bread to the floor. It was immediately consumed by one of the dogs that had been let into the hall at mealtime to keep the rushes free of refuse.

Edeva took a final swallow of the sour wine, and then met the gaze of the man beside her. “Ready, my lady?” he said. “I’ll escort you upstairs.”

There was courtesy in the way he helped her up from the bench and took her arm as they crossed the hall. At the stairs, he gestured that she could go ahead while he carried the cresset torch.

They entered the room, and the Norman put the torch in a bracket on the wall and went to close the shutters. Edeva remained by the door, uneasy not only with what this man might do, but also with her own feelings: A few days before, she and the Norman had been bitter enemies. Now they shared a meal and spoke congenially. She wished she could go back to hating him and plotting his death. But she feared she could not.

Of course, that did not mean that they were not adversaries. She only cooperated with him for the sake of Oxbury and its people, to keep things running smoothly until her brothers could regain control. Eventually, they would find the means to oust the Normans and reclaim what was theirs.

Restless, Edeva went to the table and dipped her hands in the washbasin and rinsed her face, then dried herself on a cloth. When she looked around, the Norman was undressing. She turned back to face the wall, dreading to see him naked. She could still recall how he had looked the first time, and the peculiar way it made her feel.

With suddenly clumsy fingers she fussed with her braids. When she could no longer pretend to busy herself with redoing her coiffure, she sat down on a stool and began to remove her shoes and stockings. She could not go to bed in her gunna, but the idea of wearing only her shift made her mouth dry.

And what would he wear? His undertunic? His hose? Or nothing?

“Edeva, will you quench the light when you come to bed?”

She could not delay forever. If he touched her, she would remind him of their bargain. Surely he would not be so foolish as to risk losing her aid by violating their agreement.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the gunna over her head and hung it on a hook. She put out the torch and walked to the bed. The Norman lay on the outer side; she would have to climb over him.

She closed her eyes and planted a knee on the bed, then carefully rolled herself over the Norman’s bulk. ’Twas a struggle to get under the covers, but at last she was abed. She sighed heavily.

A second later, the Norman gave a faint snore. At the sound, her mood went from anxious to irritated. She wanted to strangle him for making her endure such turmoil, such awkwardness—especially when he was going to fall asleep as if she were not even there!

Edeva stared up at the darkness. She had agreed to do his bidding if he left her alone. Obviously, ’twas no hardship for him. He apparently found her so unattractive that he could sleep beside her and not be even a tiny bit tempted!

The embers of her hatred flared to life. He was a crude, stupid pig, and she should have let him ruin Oxbury rather than help him!

She gritted her teeth, wondering if she would ever sleep.

She woke later, in the darkest, deepest part of the night. For a few moments, she wondered what had aroused her. Then she heard it—a faint noise coming from the stairwell.

She strained her ears. Who would climb the stairs this time of night, and so stealthily? Her heart began to pound.

The noise seemed to stop outside the door; she took a deep breath and turned toward the man beside her. With only the merest hint of light creeping through the cracks in the shutters, she could make out no more than the shape of him. But she could hear his slow, even breathing.

She froze in place as she heard the quiet footsteps near the door. The Norman had not seen fit to lock them in. Why would he? He had a whole army below to guard him. She would lie here and wait and see who the intruder was.

Nay, she would not!

With elaborate care, she climbed over the Norman. As her feet touched the floor, the door creaked. Edeva backed toward the wall. The door opened slowly and someone came into the room, but she could not see who it was. She reassured herself that she could not be seen, either.

Long, painful seconds passed. She sought to press herself against the wall. Her foot bumped into something, making a noise.

Strong hands grabbed her. Just as she thought to scream, a sweaty hand clapped over her mouth. “Edeva, it’s me,” a familiar voice whispered in Saxon.

She nearly fainted with relief. Then she realized all the other dangers facing them, and a new wave of panic overwhelmed her.

The hand covering her mouth moved away. She took a deep breath and whispered, “What are you doing, Godric? Are you mad? The Norman sleeps there, in that bed. If he wakes and calls an alarm, you have no chance.”

“Do you want me to kill him?”

“What would that accomplish?” she whispered back. “His army holds Oxbury. They are not like to leave even if he dies.”

Her brother grunted.

The Norman sighed in his sleep and rolled over. Edeva pulled on Godric’s arm. “Let us go in the stairwell,” she whispered.

They crept out of the bedchamber door, closing the door behind them. Halfway down the stairs, Godric halted.

“How fare Beornwold and Alnoth?” Edeva asked.

“Tired of eating squirrel and rabbit and sleeping on the ground.”

“Have you thought of a plan? Is that what you have come to tell me?”

“I came to see how the place was guarded. And how you fared. It seems you have been treated well enough.” There was a sneer in his voice that raised Edeva’s ire.

“’Tis not what you think. I have not cooperated with the Normans any more than necessary. I could not let the place go to ruin while I waited for you to think of a way to take back our home. I had to see to the servants and the preparations for the winter!”

“And warm the Norman bastard’s bed. For certes, you must do that!”

“He makes me sleep at his side!”

Her brother’s voice turned thoughtful. “That you are his leman may aid us. You’ll be able to learn his plans ahead of time.”

“I am not his leman!” Edeva said hotly.

“Truly? He has not bedded you?”

“Nay.”

“’Tis odd,” Godric said. “But mayhap he fears that if he beds you, he will have to take you to wife. I’ve heard that the Conqueror is most particular of his men’s conduct toward women.”

“Then why do the other Normans fornicate like rabbits?” Edeva demanded.

“I suppose the standards are higher for the men William grants land to.”

Edeva pondered this information. Learning that the Norman might have declined to bed her because he did not want to be forced to marry her did not make her feel any better.

“A pity he has no liking for you,” Gothic said. “’Twould help us a good deal if you were his leman.”

“Jesu, a moment ago you were scorning me for sharing his bed!”

“Well, you cannot blame me for being a little resentful of your circumstances. You sleep here, warm and dry, and eat hot food every day, while the rest of us suffer in the woods.”

“Do you have any sort of plan at all?”

Godric sighed. “Beornwold stalks around our camp in a fury, but he has no more idea of how to dislodge these devils than I do. I was hoping you had thought of something.”

Edeva shook her head. “There are too many of them and too few Saxon warriors. You cannot defeat them unless a part of their force leaves the valley.”

“Or their leader is killed. That would demoralize them, throw them into disorder.”

“Or cause them to burn the manor and kill all of us!”

“’Twas merely a thought,” Godric said. “Surely you would have no complaint if we murdered the bastard.” He motioned up the stairs. “’Twould be easy to do. I could cut his throat in his sleep.”

“Nay!”

“You puzzle me, Edeva. The Norman has obviously shown no interest in making you his woman, and yet you argue for his life.”

“I am being practical! If you kill him in his bed, who do you think will be punished? His men will assume that I did the deed. They will show me no mercy, nor any to the rest of the people of Oxbury.”

“You could flee with me.”

“Nay, I would not leave others behind to suffer.”

“You were always difficult, little sister. Argumentative and stubborn. No wonder the Norman does not favor you. Your unfeminine nature likely repels him “

Edeva took a sharp breath, feeling Godric’s words cut into her. He was a fool, but nevertheless, what he said stung.

“Well,” Godric said as he started down the stairs, “I can see we’ll get no good of you. We’ll have to depend on Golde for aid.”

“Golde!”

“Keep your voice down, wench. Golde is the one who smuggled me in. At least she remembers where her loyalties lie,” Godric said as he disappeared into the blackness.

Edeva clenched her hands into fists. Damn Godric! And damn the Norman! Between the two of them, they were driving her mad.

She crept back up the stairs. The sound of the Norman’s heavy even breathing fueled her fury as she climbed back into bed. She had saved his life this night. And for what? So he could use her to run his household.

Why was she helping a man who found her so unfeminine, so repellent, that he did not want to bed her?

Bitterness suddenly gave way to tears.

She had not cried when word came of the Normans’ victory at Hastings. Nor when the enemy was first sighted in the valley. Not even when she watched her countrymen die at the end of a rope and believed she would be next.

But now the tears came, and she wished dearly for another woman to talk to. A sister. Or her mother, dead for two years.

There was no one but her, and she must be strong. The people of Oxbury depended upon her. Her brothers would never think of them, concerned as they were with their own misfortunes, Three score lives hung in the balance. Children and women. Hard-working, loyal sokemen.

All of them, looking to her. Edeva—Leowine’s daughter.

* * *

He was dreaming. He knew that because he had never been to this place before, at least not with Damaris. They were not in a gentle, peaceful garden like the one behind her father’s house, but a forest, wild and bright with golden leaves.

Damaris was there, talking to him, her dark eyes shining, her delicate lips moving as she spoke in her soft voice. He knew not what she said, only that she was near. He reached out for her, seeking a kiss.

Her lips felt plump and ripe beneath his, her body warm and alive. He drew back to look at her.

No brown eyes met his, but cornflower blue. Lips, not the garnet red he remembered, but rosy pink. And fair hair...

The Saxon. ’Twas not Damaris he held but the Saxon woman

He stared in surprise even as the dream dissolved.