The Blue Falcon (40 page)

There were snakebites, the victims writhing in delirium and pain before dying. The depletion of food stores, a severe lack of meat and fruit, caused the slow starvation of some. Illness. There was a new unknown disease in every heathen village. One local complaint struck both kings, laying Richard and Philip on their backs. As if a noble bug had bitten, Conan, too, was stricken. Fever and delirium reigned, and though he
r
emembered nothing when he regained consciousness, Conan found that Mallory had closeted himself with his ailing comrade and would allow no other near.

“
I could not see his purpose and would rather have had him leave a more expendable servant to the task of tending me,” Conan wrote.
“
But my sister’s husband said that the name I called out in my sickness would not have pleased my other comrades in arms.”

Chandra’s heart lurched as she read this. Could Conan have called out for her while he was ill? Did Mallory worry that Tedric’s brothers would hear? She knew that they all lived and fought together in that heathen land
--
did they also fight among themselves? Because of her?

“
I worry that what I hold dear is being abused in my absence,” he wrote.
“
It pains my heart that I can do nothing. But when I am returned there are matters to settle, and rest assured, my lord, many wrongs will be set aright.

“
Should you find the right moment, say that I am well, though poorly spirited from this wretched war. And should you have the time, tell those you know I love that I will return to them.”

A tear slowly crept down Chandra’s cheek.
“
Would that I could thank your father for allowing me this simple touch,” she murmured to the wrinkled pages.
“
Would that I could hold this to my breast as I pray for your safety, my love.”

The earth was still soft where Medwin had been buried, and Chandra scraped away a portion of the ground near the foot of his grave and placed the coffer carefully within, covering it with dirt.
“
My father would be honored to think he guards your words,” she said softly.

Slowly she rose to stand, and as she turned she met cold gray eyes. She gasped and jumped in surprise as Tedric grabbed her wrist.
“
What little treasures of Sir Conan do you bury with your father, love?”

Sir Medwin was barely cold in his grave when Tedric called his father to his aid to ride on Phalen Castle. A letter, written by Medwin shortly before his death, brought Theodoric to his son’s aid. Sir Conan, Medwin wrote, had done little for Phalen Castle in the short time he was married to Edwina. There was no issue, and the many debts that had accumulated had been righted by Sir Tedric. Since Tedric fathered the only
o
ffspring with lineage to Medwin, Phalen Castle was to belong to him, and in turn, to Hugh, Chandra’s son. A modest sum of money to ease the insult and to repay Conan for the care given to Edwina was carried in a pouch.

Galen did not yield the keep easily, but faced with Tedric’s men and those of Sir Theodoric, he could not hold out for long. Those men who had served Medwin were in a state of confusion over who was right
--
but quickly saw the right in might. Phalen was abandoned by the young Galen, and a few men fell before the hall was taken.

Tedric might have slain t
he young knight but for Theodo
ric’s presence. Galen returned a week later with his father and a hardy troop of men, but Alaric forged no attack. The two aging lords, once the best of friends, were enemies now.

“
The battle is not over,” Alaric bellowed to the barbican where Theodoric and Tedric stood.
“
Upon Conan’s return you will see me firmly behind him!”

“
And if Conan does not return, old man?” Tedric shouted back.

“
I think he would come from hell to set you from his hall!”

Loyalties at home were torn and shredded while the great armies of Richard the Lion Hearted warred in the devastating heat of the Holy Land. Friends were turned against friends, husbands against wives, and in the absence of the Blue Falcon, little was preserved for his return. Those who would have died for his cause were left without even that recourse.

When Tedric returned to Cordell after his conquest, he gloated before Chandra.

“
What did you do to my father to make him write that letter for you?” she demanded of him.

“
It was simple, ma che
r
i
e,” he returned.
“
I told him I would have you killed should he refuse me.”

“
There is nothing to stop you now,” she taunted.

“
There is but one thing, love. While Conan wants you, he will be cautious. I hold your life in my hand.”

“
What he feels for me will make little difference, Tedric,” she said quietly.
“
I think this insult may be the apple that tips the cart. He will surely kill you whether he cares for me or not.”

As the winds of November in the year 1192 began to cool the land, the soldiers of Richard began to filter into England after more than two years away.

Chapter 19

Since Tedric had taken possession of Phalen, he had stocked the walls well with soldiers, promising them grandness in good time for their service. The families were in a suspended state of feud, Alaric and Theodoric doing nothing as they awaited the return of their sons.

After spending several months assuring himself that Phalen was stoutly held, Tedric returned to Cordell to stay. He still felt sure that the prize Conan sought was here, in this small village. Chandra could see no reason why Tedric had not moved them all to Phalen, the larger and stronger keep, except that even he saw the advantages of Cordell: Conan could not enter the town without being seen. It was reason
able to assume that Conan’s attack would be on the castle he considered stolen from him
--
Phalen
--
where he would not find the lady.

Chandra’s days blended one into the next with naught but the seasonal changes to alert her that any time had passed at all. She was not allowed to venture from Cordell, and there had not been any visitors.

Early in the morning she would don a heavy woolen gunna and have Hugh brought to her. Her duties were so many and varied that she could not even mother her own son as she wanted to. She smiled as Wynne brought Hugh in.

Chandra bounced Hugh upon her knee and he giggled gaily. His eyes had never changed from the glittering blue he was born with, but his white-blond hair turned to the dark crown of his sire. And the pale, white skin of babyhood was growing bronze and golden, like Conan’s. While Tedric was small compared to his contemporaries, Hugh was a large,
s
olid child. She knew the day would soon come when Tedric would question his parentage. For now they were safe, since Tedric took little interest in his son. Hugh could be out of his sight for weeks at a time without Tedric noticing.

“
Lady, my brother took chickens to Colchester,” Wynne said.
“
Many a knight has returned.”

Chandra did not look at her. She chucked the baby under his chin.

“
Lady? Is there word?” the young woman asked.

“
Nay. Nor will there be, as I reason.” She hugged Hugh close and relished the fresh, clean scent of his skin. He wriggled from her grasp, more interested in walking about the room, examining every article with his hands and mouth, his fat legs taking him more quickly than seemed possible from one trouble to the next.

“
Thetford,” Chandra said softly.
“
Remember, if you for
get all else, that Laine is in the convent at Thetford. If we are in danger here, you can make your way to her. There are those who would help you, and the coins I gave your father
--
they are safe?”

“
Aye, lady. And no one knows. But I could flee there now and
--
”

“
Nay!” she snapped, drawing a jump from Hugh, who was just a few paces away. The little chin quivered and tears collected in his eyes. She held out her arms to him and he snuggled close to her breast.
“
I cannot know what comes with the winter,” she said more calmly.
“
It is a thing we must do when Tedric is engaged in his battle, when he is far from here. Until that time, be brave. I will let no harm come to you or my son.” She stroked the dark head and kissed Hugh’s soft ear.
“
If you skitter about like a frightened rabbit, do you think it will go unnoticed? To this day, though no word has come and no contact ever been made, Tedric suspects me above all others. He would be in Phalen Castle now but for his fear that Conan would come here and free me of this bondage.”

Wynne nodded. The guard about the hall and along the road was heavy since the first of the soldiers had returned and word of their coming had reached Cordell.

“
If Richard is
--
”

“
Richard gave his brother leave to manage his lands without reprisal. While we may hope the king will curb John
n
ow, his first business will likely be arranging masses, celebra
tions and tournaments to raise the funds for his next battle. We are better not to depend on Richard to solve our problems.”

“
Aye, lady,” she said weakly.

Chandra sighed. She knew she had hardened somewhat as a result of the great burdens she had carried the past years. Her strength was more finely honed and her faith less than blind. Her love had not faltered, but she knew the risk was high that Conan would return with some Byzantine mistress with babes clinging to her skirts.

It had been over two years.

Chandra heard soft talking and moving around in the opposite chamber and quickly handed Hugh to Wynne.
“
Take him,” she bade the girl.
“
Later,
tonight, bring him to me for a
while. Please.”

Wynne left the room and Chandra continued with her dressing, fastening an anklet around her slender ankle and fitting into place the gold girdle that she wore daily. A few coins would be given to the priest and she placed them in her pouch along with her rosary. She covered her head with a veil, and just as she would have reached for her cloak, Tedric entered the room.

“
To prayers?” he questioned with a sneer.

“
As every morn, my lord,” she answered.

“
For what do you pray, damsel? Do you pray that your knight will return and kill your husband?”

She stiffened with indignation.
“
I can assure you that I have never prayed for your death,” she retorted saucily.

“
Have you word of him?” Tedric asked.

Chandra sighed. For a long while Tedric had been quiet about this obsession, but since some knights had returned and there had been no attack or challenge from Conan, Tedric was becoming unbearable with the wait.
“
And how would a message make its way to me, husband? Would your guards let a messenger pass?”

Tedric chuckled at her predicament.
“
Sir Conan, the great warrior of the Cross! Has he not yet promised to rescue you from your husband?”

Chandra stooped and fidgeted with her anklet so that he would not see her eyes.
“
I feel certain that any message from Conan will come to you, Tedric. Not to me.”

“
Ah, my love, your denial does not fool me,” he sneered.

“
Tedric,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his. She felt almost serene. Chandra neared nineteen years, and while the blush of youth might still be evident if she had cause to be gay, there was no trace of youth or naivete in her gaze as she looked at her husband now.
“
‘Tis no secret that I once desired Sir Conan, but it has been over five years, Tedric, since that possibility was lost to me. There is no reason for me to expect his protection now.”

“
The Falcon may be a genius in war, but in his follies with women he has been a fool. I wager he wants you still. He will walk into my trap.”

“
Had he wanted me at the cost of his life, my lord, would he have ventured to the Crusade?”

“
Conan is a pompous ass,” Tedric spat.
“
How like him to return as the glorious warrior to stake his claims.”

Chandra smiled lazily.
“
Has he disappointed you and returned alive?”

She would have expected his anger, but instead he laughed cruelly.
“
You have aged, my fair Chandra,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek.
“
You are no longer the blushing maid of our wedding day. Your hate has worn on you. He will not be pleased.”

She tore away from him, because she knew what he said was true. All that she had endured as his wife showed on her.

“
He will have little to entice him when he stares into those passionless eyes, my pet,” Tedric fairly crooned.

“
Should he have a chance to look upon my face, Tedric, I heartily doubt it will be in passion. Pity, rather, for what has befallen me since you took me
--
”

He grasped her arm tightly and held her firmly, looking closely into her eyes. Tedric’s gray eyes could bolt from dark to pale as his anger built, and now, nearly white with inner rage, he stared her down.

“
I will know the truth of his intentions soon, sweet,” he said in a low and menacing tone.
“
If he casts you aside, he must still fight for his lands. If he holds any love in his heart for you, I shall take pleasure in keeping you from him. One way or the other, fair Chandra, I shall have the brave warrior at odds, be assured.”

She would not flinch from him but neither would she fight him. She knew her resistance would goad him into more
a
busive behavior. Eventually he released her as if disgusted and strode to the door. There he paused to salute her with a sly smile.

When the door closed behind him, she caught her breath and sat heavily on her bed. She knew her place in this obscure rivalry. Somehow Tedric would make her the victim.

She had heard nothing from Conan since that visit so long ago. Many times she had beaten down the thought that his stealthy climb to her chamber was made in impetuous lust eager to be spent after wanting and wondering for too long. If she did see him again, she could not beg his protection now
--
pride would not allow. Pride and love, for if he did not want her, she would free him to another, however painful.

Upon leaving the keep, Chandra passed the villagers returning from church. Those cruel words with her husband had caused her to miss the mass. The church was vacant but for two villagers bent in prayer, and for this much she was grateful. She crossed herself, genuflected, dropped to her knees before the large wooden cross above the altar. She lent her heart to her prayers, the same prayers, laden with fear and confusion, that she had offered for a very long time.

Daily she would pray until spiritually spent, then confess and then listen to mass and take communion. The rest of the day she would bear as she could. Its problems would leave her exhausted and she would sleep, usually dreamlessly.

There was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Father Merrick looking down at her. She assumed he was ready to hear her confession so that he could be about his other chores. Wordlessly she rose, her rosary tightly wound around her hands, to follow him. She noticed that he led her not to the small antechamber where he heard confessions, but toward the rectory, a room for his private use that she had never seen. Stopping, she tried to reason this. But the priest smiled, inviting her with his eyes to follow.

In this small room there were pages of parchment scattered about a small table. A quill stood ready and a stool was the only comfort. No rug or tapestries warmed the room or broke the plainness. As he held the door for her, she noticed that a brother of the same order was within. His back to her, this disciple of Christ seem
ed to fill the room. His broad-
shouldered frame looked immense beneath the brown drab of
h
is habit. She was accustomed to the men of the Gospel being small of stature and more intellectual than muscular. She turned to ask the priest his business, but found that Father Merrick had turned to go, closing the door softly behind him.

The figure in the robes slowly turned. His appearance was swarthy, his face tanned from many months in the hot sun. His beard had been recently shaven, making his cheeks and chin stand out white against the rest of his face. A scar, deep and still red, was carved along one cheek from his temple to his chin. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and the eyes
--
the eyes that had penetrated even her deepest sleep
--
were the same as ever.

Chandra covered her mouth to silence, her gasp of surprise and looked about quickly to be sure that she was alone with him. Then quickly she ran the few steps between them and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. She let her fingertips examine him, feeling to be certain he was real. She took in the smell of him, the masculine musk that she immediately recalled. Tears blurred her eyes as she pulled away from him to study his face, so there, too, she let her trembling fingers decide his features. She touched his lips, his dark brows, the scar that stood out on his cheek.

It was several moments before she realized that the arms that held her were slack and weak. She pulled away again and looked into his eyes. They were hardened and cold, though he seemed to try to soften them. He smiled somewhat sheepish
ly, reaching out a hand to caress her cheek. The hand was rough and scratchy on her delicate skin, but she did not wince. Rather, she held it against her cheek and pressed soft kisses into the calloused palm.

“
Chandra,” he breathed.
“
You’re the finest sight
--
”