Medieval Ever After (8 page)

Tate wriggled his eyebrows and stroked his chin in a weary gesture. “If I were you, I would make time. You cannot leave her untouched.”

“I know,” Stephen nodded patiently. “I will do my duty as soon as I am able and not a moment sooner. Besides, last night was not the right time. She was… well, understandably distraught.”

Tate thought on the burning woman he had gored, his good humor fading. “Indeed,” was all he could say. The trio fell silent a moment before Tate spoke again. “Speaking of wives, I must return soon to mine. I am anxious to see my children. The baby turned four months old yesterday and I have not seen him since he was born.”

Edward shook his head. “How many does that make now? Six children?”

Tate nodded his head; his smile was returning. “Roman is due to be sent to foster at Kenilworth in September, something that my wife is not particularly thrilled with, but at seven years of age, I have told her that it is time for my oldest son to begin his training,” he scratched his chin again, wearily. “Cate is almost six and beautiful like her mother, while the Alexander and Dylan are nearly five and have the entire castle living in fear of them.”

Edward laughed. “They are hooligans. I can hardly wait to recruit them into my service.”

Tate pursed his lips in agreement, thinking of his aggressive blond-haired twins that were almost as big as their eldest brother. “Arabella is three and chatters like a magpie, and now baby Dane rounds out the bunch. My wife is going to hunt me down if I do not return home soon to help out with the brood.”

Stephen grinned at the thought of the Lady Elizabetha de Tobins Cartingdon de Lara, known to everyone as Toby, tracking her husband down like a bounty hunter to return him to Forestburn Castle. Fortunately for Tate, she was very busy with six children and hadn’t the time to break away, but knowing Toby as they did, Stephen would not be surprised if she found a way. She was, if nothing else, a very determined woman.

“Enough of Lady de Lara,” Edward waved his hands irritably, refocused on Stephen as the man found the right piece of bread. “I want to know about Lady Pembury. Is it really true that she has been living at Jedburgh since eleven years of age?”

Stephen picked up a piece of cloth used to cover the bread and carefully wrapped his wife’s meal in it. “True enough, it would seem,” he replied. “It also seems that the nuns have educated her well. She can even read and write both Latin and French.”

“Truly?” Edward looked surprised. “A woman with an education. Shocking.”

Tate lifted an eyebrow at him. “Elizabetha can read and write.”

Edward made a face as if the entire idea horrified him, thinking of his own young wife who was well versed in most courtly things excluding the ability to read. He liked it better that way. Beside him, Tate rose on his big legs and stretched his muscular body wearily.

“Come along,” he said to Stephen. “After you have fed your wife, I would have you show me the progress on the collapsed walls. I am uncomfortable with our vulnerability at the moment. The Scots may be defeated but they are not dead. I should not like to be caught unaware.”

The two knights left Edward in the hall as they made their way out into the sunshine. Being July, and near the river, gave the air a heated, sticky quality that made wearing armor increasingly uncomfortable. Tate rubbed at his neck where his mail grated against his sweaty skin. To the east, they could hear the buzz of the insects as they lay fat and lazy in the moist river grass.

“So I take it that you did not tell Edward everything I told you last night about Lady Joselyn and her reasons for being at Jedburgh,” Stephen muttered as they crossed the mud.

Tate continued to scratch his neck. “I did not,” he replied. “If you want him to know, then you will tell him. That kind of information will not come from me.”

“Do you plan to interrogate her about the soldier who raped her?” Stephen asked. “You know your men better than I. Perhaps you will recognize someone based on her description.”

Tate nodded. “I will ask her when the time is right,” he said, eyeing Stephen as they neared the keep. “Did you tell her what you did for her mother?”

Stephen cleared his throat softly. “There was nothing I could do for the woman.”

“That’s not what I meant. Did you tell her that you personally built the coffin she lies in, which is why you did not return to her last night? That is the reason you did not return to consummate the marriage and for no other reason than that. Moreover, you prayed over the woman for hours. Did you not tell her that, either?”

“I did not.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I did not do those things so she would admire or revere me. I did not do them for glory. I did them because they needed to be done and because it was right that I should do them.”

Tate sighed faintly, slapping Stephen on a big shoulder. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “But she might like to know that her new husband is capable of such compassion. You are an accomplished man with an amazing spirit, Stephen. She might like to know that as well.”

They entered the cold, dark keep. “She will know as time allows,” Stephen replied. “She knows that I brought her the clothing.”

Tate snorted. “Good Lord, man, that’s the least of your generosity,” he fell in behind Stephen as they moved up the narrow stairs. “She should know the character of the man she has married.”

They reached the landing. “She will,” Stephen said, knocking softly on the chamber door. After several long seconds and no answer, he knocked again. Still no answer, he opened the door.

The room was empty.

The day was sultry and sticky. The moisture rising up from the river was as thick as a fog, cloaking everything around it. In spite of Stephen’s previous order to stay to her chamber, Joselyn had found her way from the castle and down to the river, thinking of the family she had lost. She felt so very alone. She needed time to clear her head, far from castles and knights and visions of blood.

Reaching the damp, sticky grass that grew in tall clumps around the river’s edge, she found a sandy bar near the water and plopped down on it, her mind a jumble of grief and fear. Clad in the lovely cranberry surcoat, she gathered her legs up against her chest, lowered her face onto her knees, and wept.

So much of her life had been out of her control. The day she went to Carlisle with her father was the worst day of her life; it had changed everything. Her father had been ashamed of what had happened but her mother, a sweet simpleton, had coddled and supported her. Even when they realized the soldier’s seed had taken root, her mother continued to protect her fiercely. It was her father who had insisted on keeping her hidden as her stomach grew large and round, hidden from family and friends alike. Her father had told everyone that she was visiting relatives in Aberdeen when she was really locked up in her bower of Allanton Castle.

The shame that had been instilled in her during that time still clung to this day. Everyone but her mother was ashamed of her. Now the only person who had never harshly judged her was gone and she wept painfully for the woman whose mind left her years ago. Joselyn wept for that sweet woman of memories gone by, of brothers she had once loved, and for a life that she would never know again. All of the tragic events from the past few months had overwhelmed her and she felt like she was living another life, one she did not recognize or like. It was like hell.

Something shuffled off to her right and she looked up to see a doe and fawn, a few feet away, drinking from the river’s edge. The doe seemed to be singed from a fire but otherwise seemed well. Joselyn’s weeping faded as she watched the two of them drink. When the fawn looked in her direction, she slowly lifted her hand to it, clucking softly. The doe seemed startled but didn’t bolt; the fawn was genuinely curious. Slowly, the little creature came up to her and sniffed her fingers. She was able to tickle its nose.

Enchanted, she forgot her tears for the moment as the little fawn nibbled on her fingers. She giggled at the baby with no teeth trying to nibble on her. The mother seemed more interested in eating the fat summer grass around the river while the fawn drew closer to Joselyn. It was enough of a distraction to cause her to forget her appalling grief. For the moment, she was thrilled with the fawn. It allowed her to scratch its neck as it came closer, interested in what she might have to eat. The little animal sniffed her surcoat and bit at the material, tugging at it and trying to eat it. Joselyn gently pulled the fabric out of the little mouth and tried to interest it in some soft, moist grass. It was a sweet, peaceful moment, one she desperately needed.

But it was not meant to last. Suddenly, the doe hit the water with a resounding splash. Startled, Joselyn looked up to see an arrow sticking out of its neck. With a scream, she grabbed the fawn and dove for the ground, terrified that more arrows would come flying out at them. She could hear men yelling and a great deal of rustling about as bodies jumped into the heavy grass. As she cautiously sat up with the fawn in her arms, she could see a dozen or so English soldiers bearing down on the doe they had just killed.

The fawn bleated and a few of the men looked over at her. Joselyn watched with mounting fear as two of them made their way over to her.

“What are you doing here, woman?” one man demanded.

She was both frightened and angered. “You killed that doe. She has a baby!”

The man lifted a callous eyebrow at her. “The baby will be tasty as well.” He tried to take it from her but she screamed and finally kicked him. He slapped her soundly.

“Enough,” he snarled, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her with him. “I shall eat both you and the fawn.”

Joselyn was terrified. She fought and kicked as the fawn bleated in terror. They hadn’t made it twenty feet when the soldier’s commanding officer, having heard the commotion, came upon them.

“You, there,” he shouted at the soldier as he strolled down from a berm overlooking the river. “What are you doing with that woman?”

The soldier smiled lasciviously. “I found her by the river,” he announced. “After I eat the doe, I plan to have her for dessert.”

The commanding officer looked closely at Joselyn and gradually, his features paled. Shoving the man in the chest to push him away, he grabbed Joselyn at the same time. The soldier lost his grip and stumbled back.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded.

The officer was focused on Joselyn. “My lady,” he sounded strained. “Does your husband know you are out here?”

“Husband?” the soldier repeated loudly. “What husband?

The commanding officer looked at the man as if he were an idiot. “Pembury,” he said, looking back at the lady. “May I escort you to your husband, Lady Pembury?”

Joselyn was clutching the fawn with a death grip. She eyed the soldier and his commanding officer. “Aye,” she said hesitantly.

The commanding officer looked rather ill as he took her elbow and helped her up the slope. “Are you well, my lady?” he asked. “You are not injured in any way, are you?”

“Nay.”

“Be careful of this hill. It is very slippery.”

He couldn’t seem to do enough to help her. The soldier who had slapped her was still standing where they had left him, his face deathly pale and knowing he was a dead man if he remained at Berwick. Pembury would undoubtedly take issue with the fact that he had slapped his wife. As the luscious little lady and his commanding officer crested the hill and headed for the castle, the soldier took off in the opposite direction.

The commanding officer kept a good grip on her as they made their way to the postern gate of Berwick. It was the same gate Joselyn had used when she had headed for the river. As soon as they entered the gate, they could see that the entire castle was in an uproar. Soldiers were mobilizing into blocks and sergeants were screaming at them. Knights on chargers were forming loose ranks and she could hear shouting from the walls. Frightened, she clutched the fawn more tightly against her.

“What is happening?” she asked the commander.

The man studied the activity. “I do not know, my lady,” he replied. “It would seem that there is trouble somewhere.”

She looked up at the man. He was a seasoned man, older, with bushy blond eyebrows. He seemed to have an even manner about him and she felt comfortable with him. In any case, she was thankful he had saved her from the lewd soldier.

“Are you a knight?”