Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (8 page)

"I confess I don't understand your animosity. When last
we parted it was with the most loving of arms," he protested.

Incredulous, she said, "How dare you say that! T-the
last time --" she was at a loss for words. The memories sped up, picture
after picture in her head. "You attacked a young girl, Graziela, left her
on the cold stone floor. How can you think to come back here now and expect a
lover's welcome?"

His expression grew fierce. "You speak of Camdork. I am
not Camdork."

"Of course you are. You bear his shield, you ride with
his men -- they call you Camdork. You are Camdork."

"And what about you?" he demanded. "I knew
you in another time, aboard my ship t
he
Merry Maiden
three years ago. You
came to my ship and then you were gone, just like that."

"You are crazed. You brutally attacked a woman many
years ago; it has never been forgotten."

"I've never attacked a woman in my life," he said
angrily.

"Lies, more lies." She dared to grab the sleeve of
his tunic and just as quickly let go. "Come. Now. Come." She urged
him over to her life tapestry, and lightly she touched the opaque golden fabric,
gently ran her fingers over its surface until the surface began to change, the
scenes depicted blurred and spun. Gently, ever so gently, Iliana pushed back
the time, back, and back, until she reached that space of time where the
tapestry turned dark, the scene where the young Graziela lay lifeless, a thin
stream of red seeping into the crevices of the stone floor upon which she lay.
"You did this," she said. "Do you deny you did this?"

She watched his face, his eyes narrowed as he studied the
scene on the tapestry. "A picture," he murmured. "Who are the
others?" he asked, pointing. "Here, and here and here?"

She shook her head impatiently. "Why do you even ask?
You know. You know who they are. William, father -- Aisyn and Desryn --
brothers."

He pointed with his finger, almost touching the tapestry.
Roughly, she pushed his hand away.

"Do you think to change the events? Do not touch this
tapestry." She glared at him.

"You're saying if I touch it, I have the power to
change the events?"

"You are not to touch an open tapestry. It is my life
tapestry."

In truth, Iliana was feeling strangely confused. This
meeting was not what she had expected, nor was he. How could he expect her to
be happy to see him? How could he not know how a life tapestry could be altered
by another person's touch?

He was a handsome specimen, her brain could not deny it. The
soft grey tunic he wore was tight across his chest, accentuating the
musculature beneath. For a brief moment, Iliana could see him as a man, as
Agnes had undoubtedly seen him. But she knew of the tales bantered about him,
knew what he was capable of. She would take no joy in what she saw. His
physical presence was merely a pretense, hiding his baseness. Mandrak had the
power to make things appear as they were not, hiding the atrocities. She had no
doubt this man walked hand in hand with Mandrak's evil doings.

His sun-lightened hair touched his shoulders, and one cheek
was marred by thin white scars ... scars Desryn had inflicted with a lash four
years before. Desryn had left a written account of the punishment, perhaps
thinking to soothe Graziela in the telling. She had been violently ill instead
and had left Dutton Keep on that day and had not returned since.

She looked away from him. She could never trust him.
"If I were willing to travel to see the queen, then none of this would
ever have happened," she muttered. "I should be a man and then these
responsibilities would not fall to me."

He looked at her in surprise. "For my part," he
said with a grin, "I am glad you are not."

"You cannot woo me with words," she said stonily.
"Your immense strength and brutality are your reputation."

"Then I must woo you with my actions."

"You waste both our time. There can be no
forgiveness." Slowly, she lifted the wave-bladed sword from the bed furs
and stared at him with hard eyes. "I shall have to kill you instead."

He looked at her steadily, his hand on his own sword hilt.
"Then I will be on my guard."

¤¤

The passion in her words affected Erik. All this time he had
searched for her, yes, yearned to find her, always going back to the seven days
they spent together, and now to find her, she appeared to remember nothing, as
if they were strangers. How could she forget those days and nights? Erik shook
his head, bombarded by thoughts of dragons in the sky, an England with no king
but a queen that he knew from history, had been imprisoned most of her life, and
yet here, she was queen. He thought of the tapestries that showed life events
in colorful art and detail, and that changed as you moved your hands over the
surface. He had a sudden thought.

"Do I have a life tapestry?" he asked.

Her eyes grew wide. Impatiently, she said, "Since birth
you are granted a tapestry, but your life is not recorded until you are one
years old." She looked at him skeptically, as well she might. Apparently,
this was knowledge he should already have if he were from this time. "I
have no doubt your tapestry is old and tattered and red from the blood you have
shed."

Erik clenched his jaw. The more he discovered about Camdork,
the more he saw a savage. This masquerade grew more cumbersome by the minute.

"It seems I cannot convince you of my innocence."

She crossed her arms.

"Then I shall stop trying."

Erik dropped all bantering, the whiteness of her face and
clenched fists telling a story that was beginning to bite at him. Here was a
woman very much in distress and who saw only Camdork. And it appeared he -- in
the guise of Camdork -- was the cause of her distress.

With a muffled oath, he reached out his hand, his intent
merely to lightly touch her cheek with his fingers, perhaps to soothe her. The
gesture went awry and his entire palm cupped her cheek. She flinched away from
him as if he had sprouted the devil's horns. Twin spots of color began to burn
in each cheek.

"Please forgive me, Iliana, for surely I did not mean
to frighten you." His voice was rough with apology and regret.

"I am not frightened," she bit out, as if it were
a great effort to speak at all. A dart of surprise flitted across her face,
then was quickly replaced by that loathsome coldness. "Your appearance in
my chamber was unexpected, that is all."

"And for that I ask your forgiveness." He wanted
her to feel at ease with him, but he knew right now he asked the impossible.
Erik vowed to make matters right.

The blue of her eyes were dilated to tiny points. Although
she did not back away or try to evade him, Erik could feel some part of her
shrinking from his touch. His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of her,
the fragrance of roses. Unaccountably, his senses stirred, his body responded.

"I mean you no harm." Impatient with himself, Erik
turned and quickly strode toward the door.

"Do not come to my chamber again."

"I shall await an invitation."

"Then you shall wait," she said with satisfaction.

"And my name is Erik," he said. "When you
were aboard my ship, you knew me as Rufus." He walked from the room.

¤¤

Iliana followed him to the door, watched him move down the
narrow corridor and toward the stairs. Agnes joined her in the doorway and
Iliana took little William into her arms.

Two of Mandrak's witches loitered in the shadows. Iliana
tensed as she saw them from the corner of her eye. One was the malevolent
Carvenia and now that one followed Camdork as he began to descend the stairs.

Iliana followed swiftly, in time to see the old woman's
fingers grip his sleeve.

Camdork paused on the stairs, turning back.
"Madam?"

"Will you have her?" the old woman asked, her
voice high and thin.

Arching a brow, Camdork's glance cut across the hall to
where Iliana hesitated.  She continued forward, knowing she must intercede.

"Carvenia, what is your purpose in this hall?" she
demanded.

Stooped, garbed entirely in dull brown robes, Carvenia
turned to her. Iliana repressed a shiver as the old woman's eyes, one black,
the other cloudy and sightless, seemed to look right through her. No matter the
number of times she saw this witch, Iliana could not seem to shake her dread.
Perhaps it had something to do with the cold way she watched William. She
returned the witch's stare, her back ramrod straight.

"Mistress," Carvenia bowed her head in mock
deference, eyes slitted. "I merely wished to inquire as to the health of
your bridegroom."

 She opened her mouth, ready to bid the witch to leave
matters which were none of her concern.

"Madam, you see me standing here. Do I not look well?"
Camdork gave the old woman a mildly questioning glance.

Iliana held her breath.

"Surely, my lord, you would not deprive an old woman
her curiosity," the crone said. "When the time comes, all the Keep
will want to know the marriage will be consummated."

Camdork gave the old woman a wolfish grin, "You have no
need to stir yourself, Madam. I am past the age where a gathering is required
to ensure the deed is performed."

Carvenia narrowed her eyes and Iliana tensed, but the old
woman surprisingly backed away. Iliana wondered if perhaps she knew better than
to make an enemy of this one.

"Have you further news to impart to your lady?"
Camdork enquired as the old woman made no move to leave.

"Nay. With your permission, my Lord Camdork, I will
take my leave."

"Go about your business," he said. The old woman
hobbled back along the hallway.

He turned to Iliana. "You keep these women about? Are
they healers?"

Iliana looked at him incredulously. "No. You know who
they are."

"Why do you allow that one entry into your private
area? There is something mean about that one."

"The servants are frightened of Mandrak's witches and
dare not keep them from where they would go. It has proven to be futile to
safeguard the hall from their like. People in the hall become sick, rats
overrun the place. They cast powerful spells. I am sure you know all
this."

"How would I know? I have just arrived."

She merely looked at him.

Surprisingly, he gave her a nod. "But now I am
here," he said, and he made his way down the stairs.

¤¤

Iliana walked back toward her chamber. If Camdork had been
as she expected, she would have known what to do, but now Iliana was at a loss.
Could one man change so much from what she knew of his reputation? Could
gentleness come?

No. It was merely a game. He was trying to lull her into a
false security. Once there, he would pounce. It was all in the sport.
Once a beast, always a beast
. They lunged for the
throat, making the kill. Iliana knew it was the waiting she would find most
difficult. Waiting until he decided to claim his rights.

"There is a difference, yet a similarity." Erik
turned toward the voice behind him, his eyes piercing the shadows of the great
room. He was slipping, he thought grimly, letting Iliana distract him in his
thoughts. Ever since meeting her, he had not been able to rid himself of
thoughts of their time aboard his ship. He was irritated with himself and his
dangerous preoccupation. There was no place in this scheme for such a
distraction, especially now when things were so upside down.

"Reveal yourself," he said.

A small figure shuffled forward, detaching itself from the
darkness of the wall. The arms moved upwards, causing the folds of a black
cloak to fall back and reveal a smooth, clear ball in gnarled and twisted
hands. The woman lifted her face to him, her thin beak of a nose prominent,
lips drawn back from toothless gums. Dark eyes in a shrunken skull seemed to
regard him with a spark of amusement.

"God's breath, are there witches everywhere about this
place?" he asked in exasperation.

She cackled. "Yea, you are him, but he is certainly not
you." She cackled again, an unnerving sound that made him wince. "I
told her you would come, I warned her, but she would not heed the ramblings of
an old woman."

"Speak plainly," Erik said. "I am getting
irritated by the half truths that seemed to abound in this place. Who did you
warn?"

 "Mistress Iliana." The old woman moved back
toward the shadows.

"Of what did you warn her?"

"Of your coming."

At the moment, willing to play his part, Erik said,
"It's common knowledge my men at arms and I were to come."

She laughed and it caused a shiver to run down his back.
Annoyed with himself, Erik said, "Tell me what you know of Iliana?"

She turned the question back on him. "What do you know
of her?"

"Leave me be if you are intent only on riddles."

"You are a man at times fascinated by riddles,"
she observed. "Look in your heart, where you love a challenge. You wanted
to find her and so you have."

"Iliana."

"She is here, and yet she is not."

"I see her in flesh and blood." Impatiently, Erik
said, "So tell me how I arrived here. What year is this? What place is
this?"

"I offered her love philtres." She seemed not to
have heard him as she went on, "She would have none of it. She will lead
you a merry chase." Again, that laugh. "'Tis only fair you know it is
the second year of Queen Eleanor's reign, the year of our Lord 1228. You are
here where you now stand. How you arrived is how you will leave."

"So I can leave again?"

"If you so wish. But you will leave something you once
loved dearly behind. And you will take with you something that you never knew
was yours."

"You know who I am."