The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) (17 page)

"You counsel yourself. I am not the man who must wait for a woman to become ready to receive my seed. My seed is set."

"Your lady wife looks well. She will deliver you a fine child," Hugh said, turning the talk away from Elsbeth.

"She may," Gautier said casually. "There is no way to tell until the child is loosed from her. I have seen this many times."

"How many times a father are you?" Hugh asked out of courtesy if not curiosity.

"This will make eleven, I think. What matter the number unless they come loose living, kicking free of the womb, grabbing hold of life with both hands? Of living children, I have eight. Of living wives, I have one," Gautier said, laughing.

Hugh smiled along with Gautier, but the urge to laugh was far from him.

* * *

"Your flow is still strong, Elsbeth," Emma said in sympathy.

"It is but the second day," Elsbeth said. "I know how my courses run. I am not dismayed."

Nay, hardly dismayed. Overjoyed. She needed this blood, this time, to gather her resources and her strength, for Hugh awaited on the other side of her flux and she was much afraid that she would not withstand his assault. In truth, she was near certain that she would be near helpless against it.

Never had she imagined the power of desire, the pulse of need and wanting that crowded out all thoughts but one. Possession. Surrender. This was what her mother had tried to explain to her. This was the danger of men. This need was what drove women to lay their bodies down, their very wills subject to the throbbing want that pounded in their hearts and bodies. This need, this damning need, was what destroyed them. She understood better now. And from understanding would come strength.

"You are not dismayed," Emma said with a small laugh, "but is the question not whether Hugh is dismayed? A man does not think to have to wait on his wedding night, nor on any other night, as to that. What did you do all the long night? I know he stayed with you, which is more than Gautier would have done, but how did you pass the long hours of the dark?"

Elsbeth looked at her father's wife from across the chess board. She did not want to talk of what men and women did in the dark. She did not want to remember the sweet torment of last night. She did not want to stir those memories, those feelings, to remembered life.

"If you do not tell me, I will imagine all sorts of delicious things," Emma said, moving a pawn.

Her imaginings could not be more delicious, or dangerous, than the reality of that night, yet Elsbeth could not admit that either.

"We talked," she said.

"All night?"

"We also slept."

"Together?"

"Of course, together. There is but one bed," Elsbeth said a trifle sharply.

"And the bed is not overlarge," Emma said, grinning. "He must have... touched you, then. Did you like it?"

"Have we not already agreed that my flux is still rampant? There was little of touching."

"Little, but some?" Emma said cheerfully. She was the most irrepressibly cheerful woman, but then, that would serve her well in her marriage to Gautier.

"Some," Elsbeth said, moving her queen to a position of more ready aggression.

"Really," said Emma with overt and obvious interest "Tell me. Tell me everything. He really is a man of courage not to be put off by a woman's blood."

"He did not touch me
there.
"
But he almost had, this morning. Was it courage or foolishness that prompted him?

"Then where? Tell me," Emma said, her eyes avid and alight. Her life really must be deadly dull to want such information. "Your breasts, I would guess," she said sagely. "You have fine, shapely breasts."

"Emma!" she said, horrified. "I will not discuss this. We should be at our prayers."

"Sext is not for hours," Emma said. "So, did he fondle you?"

"Your king is in peril," Elsbeth said, looking down at the board.

"My king is yours if you tell me what happened." Elsbeth looked up at her, surprised beyond words. "My life is empty now, waiting for this child to come forth. Your father keeps his distance. Denise, Warkham's fosterling, is still at her playthings; she is no companion and too young to train to anything more than needlework. Talk to me, Elsbeth. I need a woman in my life."

Elsbeth could understand that. A woman's life was better and more happily spent with other women. Which described the abbey life very well.

"Could we not talk of other things?" Elsbeth said.

"What else is of more import than your wedding night? This night will live in your memory for all your days. Do you not wish to speak of it?"

That was her fear, that it would live in her memory for all her days. She did not want to think of his eyes on her, his hands on her, his mouth tasting her, because if she did, then she remembered all he made her feel. Her body had been traitor to her will. 'Twas not a pleasant memory. Yet it was a memory that burned slowly in her thoughts, smoldering like embers, too ready to flash to brilliant life.

She could not take such memories into the nunnery with her, and she would not foul Sunnandune with them.

"It was not a wedding night, not the way the church defines," she said. "I have naught to say. We talked, he was kind and patient, we slept when the night was old. There is nothing more to say."

Emma sighed and shook her head. "That is too bad. A wedding night should be more. But never despair, your flux will pass and then you will have a night to remember."

Elsbeth sighed and nodded, glad for the passing of this questioning.

"So," Emma said, considering her next move, "did he kiss you?"

* * *

"What did she tell you?"

"Very little, my lord," Emma said.

"Did he touch her?" Gautier asked.

"Aye, but her blood still flows strong. There is naught he can do till it passes."

They stood at the hearth in their hall, the tables stacked along the wall. It was hours yet till the meal, and the hall was near empty. Still, they kept their voices low. This was not a conversation for other ears.

"Yet he did touch her," Gautier said softly, stroking his chin. "She is very like her mother; touching may well have broken passion loose in her. Did she seem distraught?"

"Elsbeth? I do not think it in Elsbeth to be distraught. She did not like my questions, that is all I am sure of," Emma answered.

"So, he waits until her blood stops," Gautier said, looking off into the shadows of his hall. "Well, there is nothing for it but to wait. Hugh thinks he knows what he is about, how to win her. Whether he speaks true or nay, Elsbeth will show us. I do not like this waiting."

"Nor does Hugh, I would say," Emma said.

Gautier smiled down at his wife. "You say that aright. This is a wait no man likes, yet we must each face it, month upon month."

"We women face it, too. I do not like the time spent without you," Emma said, leaning into him.

Gautier only smiled and rubbed a hand down her back.

* * *

"This waiting is most hard, my lord."

"Speak not to me of hard, Raymond. I ache even now," Hugh said, throwing his squire a casual grin.

"Yet the marriage is legal, is it not, my lord? None can be blamed for non-consummation."

"None can be blamed, and yet the marriage is not consummated. I cannot think that the church would honor any claim to dissolve this union, her flux being an act of God and nature. Yet, without penetration, my claim is tenuous."

"She would not deny you," Raymond said, his eyes alight with fervor at the implied insult.

"I do not think it is in her to rebel against both her father and her husband, yet she does not want to be a bride. Her maiden state suits her temper very well," Hugh said.

He and Raymond walked the land just outside the gates of Warkham. It was a damp day, as all English days seemed to be. The town of Warkham was a single street, muddy and rutted, not worth the title "town" at all, a blemish upon the earth when held in comparison to the towns of Outremer. There, a town had a thousand years to sink down roots and grow into a flourishing settlement that welcomed all. Here, a piss pot had more permanence.

Raymond had come with him the long distance from Jerusalem and was of that land, as Hugh himself was. They shared the same mind on many things, and Raymond knew why Hugh had come north and approved the deed. All who knew Baldwin must approve his purpose here, and Raymond loved Baldwin as well as any man.

"You can change that with a smile and a sigh, my lord. All the maidens of Jerusalem attest to that," Raymond said.

"But we are not in Jerusalem, Raymond," Hugh said, "and this English bride does not fall to a smile. Her heart is of firmer fiber, though she be a woman still."

"If she be a woman, then she is won if you seek to win her."

"Your confidence cheers me; still, she is not yet won."

"You have only to wait, my lord. When her flux is past, then the way will be clear."

But he did not dare wait. Elsbeth was too strong against the match, her very soul striving against the married state. If he waited to win her by the claiming of her body, she might yet escape him. He could not wait, nor count on the stirrings of her loins to tie her to him. Nay, he needed to hold her heart; if he could do that, then her body would perforce follow.

He understood a woman's heart, and this woman, with her father's careful counsel echoing in his ears, he understood better than most. The way to win her was through the chapel and the nave, keeping the office of a monk with the caress of a lover. Well, and he could do that. Was he not from holy Jerusalem? A little girl from England could not beat him at a game of holy ardor.

* * *

The nave was cool, and it suited well her mood. The memories of last night had risen new and hungry with the questioning by Emma, as she had feared. The cold dim of God's own house would press the images from her. Her prayers were soft in the gloom, yet her heart was firm.

She felt him enter long before she heard his step upon the stone.

"I thought I would find you here," Gautier said, his voice just behind her. She did not turn; she was at her prayers, or was supposed to be.

"Here I will ever he," she said, struggling to be free of him in even this small way.

"If your husband so decides," Gautier said at her back. He did not kneel. She felt very small and vulnerable with him rising up behind her, but that was foolish. She was in God's own house. She was perfectly safe.

"I will abide by his decision for me," she said, her head bent more to avoid the sight of him than out of holiness. "I am content."

"I would only that you be content, Elsbeth," Gautier said. "As any father would for any child, so I am for you. I chose well for you, did I not? He is a man to make a maid swoon."

"I did not swoon because of him," she said, lifting her head. "I had not supped. 'Twas hunger that made me light of head, nothing more."

"Hunger?" Gautier asked, and she could hear his silent laughter. "I will not argue it. He is a man to make a maid hungry, and there are many kinds of hunger. Has he taught you that?"

He excelled at this form of verbal sparring; she had learned long years past that she could never win such a game with him. All was turned to his purpose, and his purpose ever seemed to be to find amusement in her embarrassment.

"If I could return to my prayers?" she said, lowering her head again, shutting him out. She could hear him chuckling and stiffened her spine against the assault of his humor.

"Aye, I would keep no woman from her divine duty. But remember also your duty to your husband. He has a hunger of his own that must be met, Elsbeth. Do not forget it. He most certainly shall not."

"I need no reminder, Father. I know my duty."

"Then may you find the joy of it. I wish you that. I wish for little else."

"And if I wish for more?" she said against all wisdom and experience.

"Then do what you must to achieve all your desires, Elsbeth," he said. "Give Hugh what he wants from you. God willing, he will then answer your every desire, even your desire for the abbey. But deny him and he will give you nothing. Remember that. Be only wise and submissive and you will win what you desire most."

"I know what I must do," she said, keeping her head bent against him.

"I know you do, and I know that you will do it very well," he said, laying a hand on her head in benign approval.

She did not move, she scarcely breathed, and then he moved off. She heard his footsteps fading, and then he was gone and she was again alone in the chapel. Alone with her thoughts and what should have been her prayers. Yet she could not pray. All her thoughts were of Hugh and the battle that was even now being set before her.

She did not know how she would succeed, but she must. Hugh was the temptation of a lifetime. If she could stand against him, her body and her heart intact, she could stand against Lucifer himself.

She heard him come and breathed deeply in resolve.

"I knew I would find you here," he said.

"Here I will ever be," she said in rote repetition.

"Then here I will be, at your side," he said, kneeling next to her. "I will pray the day away with you, a warrior of blood and prayer at your side."

She did not need a warrior at her side. She needed only God. She would tell Hugh so, when she could find her breath. Her heart raced and pressed against her ribs. It was most difficult to remember the words of her prayer when all she could remember was the feel of his hand running up her thigh.

There are other things which must call you," she said, her voice a whisper.

Let him think that she was devout, not consumed by flaring desire to have him so near. She did not even dare to turn her head. The sight of him would be more temptation than she could bear right now.

"You call to me," he whispered. "You, Elsbeth. I want to hold you. I want to talk with you, learning your mind and thoughts and heart. Let us look on this week of waiting as a blessing most divine. I will know you before I possess you, and I will not fault the time. I see God's hand in this delay of our physical union. Do not you?"