The Protector (16 page)

“He is your prisoner, but he is not defeated,” Ascanio said. “You must settle things with your duke.”

“I will write again, at once.”

“Aye, write. But if no response arrives, you are going to England,” Morvan said. “We will wait until the feast of the Nativity has passed, but no longer. By then your warrior's wound should have healed.”

“Surely it is better to sail in warmer months.”

He took her chin in his hand and forced her gaze to meet his. “You are going. This is over.” He gestured to her covered hip. “
That
does not happen again.”

As he strode out of the chamber, she heard the silent words he had not spoken.
It is done.

Two weeks after the feast of the Nativity, Anna found herself being rowed through Brest's harbor, to the ship that would carry her to England.

Morvan sat beside her. Gregory, and four of Morvan's men who wanted to return home despite the danger of plague, crowded around them.

She had tried to delay this voyage, but Morvan had forced the plans forward. Ascanio had supported his insistence that it be done now, before Gurwant could be ransomed. Ascanio had also suggested that Morvan escort her, since he knew King Edward and the court officials, and could also find her hospitality with his sister.

Taking a free hand, Morvan had arranged the journey to Brest and their passage on the waiting ship. He had neither consulted her nor explained to her. It had simply happened.

She gazed at the ship. She had never been on one before. Aside from traveling to Saint Meen, she had never left her home before. That was one reason she had avoided this means of settling the estate's problems. But this journey had revealed other misgivings in her heart that had no names, and that she could not explain.

“Where are the horses?” She had decided to bring some to sell. Morvan had quizzed her on prices and told her she could get much more for them in England than from the drovers who passed through Brittany.

“In the hold. God willing it will not be a bad voyage, and they will be well.”

She glanced back at the receding roofs of Brest. She had wanted to spend the morning walking in the city, but Morvan had insisted that since he had to supervise the boarding of the horses and could not accompany her, she was not to go. He had been giving orders like that since they departed La Roche de Roald. He had begun to treat her as his ward.

“Your trunks are at your berth,” he explained. “You will be traveling with a Lady Martha and her servant. You are the only women on board and must stay in the cabin.”

“Is that a sea law or something? That women stay in their cabins?”

“It is my law. There will be nothing to see but water and nothing to find but trouble if you don't obey it.”

By the time the ship weighed anchor, Anna decided that the cabin would be purgatory. It was tiny and airless, no more than a curtained section of the lower deck, and the berths and pallets and trunks left little room to stand. Lady Martha acted very familiar with her servant, and they passed the time with gossip. Endless gossip. Anna had never been subjected to so much witless talk.

The next morning she woke to several additional discomforting developments. The first was that Lady Martha spoke too freely of personal things. The second proceeded from the first, as Anna realized from this chatter that this noblewoman in her fine clothes was a slut. That might have interested her, since she had never met a fallen woman of her own class before, but for the final development. Early in the morning she became seasick.

Her situation got worse when they ran into bad winds that sent them lurching through huge waves. The ship groaned and creaked and she was sure that she could hear it coming apart.

It was with great relief that she learned that they were due to make a stop in Southampton in order to let Lady Martha and her company debark. As they steered toward the coast, the waves calmed somewhat.

When Martha had gone, Anna sank onto the bed for the first peace and quiet in three days. She was falling asleep when Morvan came to the cabin.

“You have been sick,” he said, examining her face.

“I have been dying.”

“Then perhaps you won't mind the news. The captain says that a bad storm is brewing and we were headed right for it. He plans to sit it out here. We can wait and then continue with the ship, or go overland.”

“Overland.”

“The weather is cold and we may have to camp.”

“We can be in London in the time we will wait here. Tell the captain that we debark. I want to get off this thing.”

“Then get some sleep this night and I'll arrange for us to leave in the morning.”

By midday they were on the road. Anna felt better the moment she set foot on dry land. The familiar sensation
of riding a horse in the fresh air lightened her spirits. Gregory and the other men laughed and jested as they led the horses down the deserted road. They would help get the horses to London and then go their own ways.

“You cannot imagine how horrible it was to be in that cabin with those women,” she said as she and Morvan pulled ahead of the others. “They talked without stopping for three days.”

“Women are often like that.”

“I hope not like this. They spoke about men like they were stud stallions.”

He didn't seem at all impressed by this revelation.

“They talked about you, for example.”

He colored a bit. “And what did the lady say?”

“I was too sick to catch all of it, and understood even less, but I probably saved your life. They were going to find your berth one night. I'd gathered that Martha's husband told his knights to keep a close watch on her, so I discouraged their little adventure.”

“Did you? How?”

She had done it by telling Martha that Morvan was impotent from a war wound. He probably wouldn't like that. “It doesn't matter. Can you imagine the trouble if those knights had found both those women with you?”

“Both?”

“Aren't you listening? I said
they
were going to come. I'll have to get Catherine to explain that to me. But you came close to being in great danger.”

“How fortunate for my virtue that you were there,” he said dryly. “Actually, if Lady Martha had been so bold she would have had the surprise of finding two of the knights playing draughts with me. They are indeed watching her closely, and the lady faces an unpleasant
meeting with her husband. She was supposed to return from Bordeaux by the Nativity.”

“I think that she is not a good woman.”

“I know that she is not. Her husband's knights know more than the lord himself. The knights in a household always know such things. She has only to bed one and all others, present and future, learn of her availability.”

“Indeed? Then Ascanio was right and you were playing loose with my reputation those nights in my chamber.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Or perhaps it wasn't your intention to bed me at all.”

He suddenly looked as if he would prefer to be somewhere else.

“If it was, you also lied.” That startled him anew. She was half serious and half teasing, and enjoying his discomfort. “I have learned a thing or two, you see. I took your advice and have asked Catherine about these things. And it seems that when you said that you wouldn't hurt me, you were lying.”

A small smile broke. “That was a metaphor. At such moments men are apt to speak thus. Their words have a broader, symbolic meaning. It is a point of rhetoric.”

“Rhetoric, no less. I am impressed. But I think that you were lying so that you could seduce me.”

“And I think that you have been talking to Catherine too much.”

She shrugged. “We had many hours to fill while I was abed with my wound. I am a grown woman and can't help but be curious. Besides, it clearly isn't safe to be as ignorant as I have been.” She shot him a look full of meaning.

And saw that it had been a mistake to speak of this,
even in jest. There flashed in his eyes a flame that she hadn't seen since the battle.

She had to meet his gaze, of course. She had never been able not to. How quickly the mood between her and this man could change. One moment merry friendship, and then a word, a gesture, and suddenly the old intimacy tugged, as if he sought to pull out a part of her that no one was ever supposed to know. She had built a wall around her attraction to him, but it was made of wood, not stone, and he could burn it at will with the fire in his eyes.

By the time they stopped to rest, dark clouds filled the sky and the wind bit colder. They sat with the men and planned their stop for the night. Gregory and the others wanted to camp, not trusting any town or abbey to be free of plague.

They approached Winchester before dark. The men set up camp off the road while Morvan took her to see the town. He explained how it had been the capital of the great King Alfred many centuries ago. He described the battles fought by Alfred against the Danes, and how he held on to his kingdom of Wessex even as the other Saxon rulers fell.

Night was falling when they finally left the town and made their way down the road to the camp.

Morvan was glad that Anna had insisted on the overland route. During the nights at sea he had been acutely aware of time slipping by. If King Edward and the duke agreed to Anna's petition, she would be gone soon. On the return journey he would deliver her to Saint Meen. The melancholy he had felt as he contemplated that had surprised him.

He had no trouble picturing her at the abbey, extending her influence as the nuns turned to her for advice and judgment. He could imagine her reorganizing the abbey stores, improving the estate economy, and resolving internal conflicts. Ascanio had been right. These images came more naturally than the others, of her immured in some man's home and submissive in some man's bed.

He had tried to get Ascanio to escort her to England, but it had been a halfhearted effort. He couldn't give up this time with her. He had carefully denied himself her presence since the night after the battle, when, seeing her petulant and restless in her bed, his desire had again vanquished his resolve. The pleasure of this day, of her friendship and confidences, had gone far to dispel the shadow of loss that he saw when he looked at her.

The camp had been set up in a clearing in the trees and a large fire roared in the center. Anna dismounted and went to warm herself.

Gregory approached Morvan to take his horse. “The captain gave us some meat, and we'll be cooking it soon.”

Morvan surveyed the camp. “Where are the lady's things?”

Gregory crooked his finger. They walked across the clearing to some bushes and pushed through them. Anna's and his bags rested beside a low fire on the other side.

“We thought that she would like some privacy,” Gregory explained. “It wouldn't do for her to be right in with the men, would it, if it can be avoided? They prefer it this way too.”

And of course, someone must be there to guard her. He could assign that task to Gregory. It was what he should do, but he knew that he would not.

They ate their meal at the main fire. Anna said little, but she appeared at ease as the soldiers swapped stories of humorous battle mishaps. He watched her hold her own in the company of men, as she always did. When the night wore on and the first head nodded, she rose silently and disappeared through the bushes.

Morvan finished a conversation, then sat for a few minutes more before following her.

She sat by the fire swaddled in her cloak, hugging her knees to her chest. She glanced at him as he came through the bushes. To anyone else it would have appeared a casual look, but he knew her too well. He felt her awareness that it was night and that they were alone and the other camp might as well be miles away.

He took his knife and cut an armful of evergreen boughs, after which he brought them back and made two piles on either side of the fire. Then he opened his bags and pulled out a fur to cover his boughs and a long cloak to use as a blanket. She began to do the same.

“We will reach Windsor tomorrow. The court is probably there, but I think that we should go on to London before trying to see the duke.” He spoke casually. Her face betrayed little, but he could feel that she was on her guard. He could sense her fear—but it was a virgin's fear, full of wary expectation. It aroused him, and he knew from the way she avoided looking at him that she was not immune to it either. The night's possibilities hung in the air. “For one thing, we need to get rid of the horses and can stable them at the market there. And I want to see my sister first. She and her husband have a house in Windsor that perhaps you can use.”

He built up the fire, then settled himself on the bed he had made. She watched him, as if wanting to be sure that he would stay there.

* * *

The wind woke him. It howled through the clearing and scattered the low embers of the fire. He pulled his cloak to his body and stood up. The storm that had stopped them at Southampton was coming inland, bringing with it a bitter cold that numbed his limbs.

He threw more wood on the fire. It burst into a roaring blaze, but the wind grabbed the warmth and whirled it away. He peered at Anna. She was huddled on her side with her face to the fire and her legs drawn up to her chest. She was shivering in her sleep, and her lips looked pale.

He walked over to the bushes and looked at the other camp. The storm must have woken them too, for new logs crackled. He saw only two large forms near the fire instead of five, since the men had sensibly moved together for additional warmth.

He went to his bag and pulled out a long furlined cloak. He picked up the coverings from where he had slept and kicked the boughs around to the other side of the fire, then roughly scattered them near Anna's shivering back. When he had lain down beside her, he spread the fur cloak over them both and waited for her body to stop shaking.