Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 01 (24 page)

Left with no choice, Fulke led the men to the nearest
town.
 
Finding a hostelrie, he
reluctantly prepared to wait out the storm.

He brushed the melting snow from his hair as he
entered the warmth of the overflowing common room. Scanning for an empty table,
he spotted the king’s nephew Stephen of Blois speaking in hushed tones to a
group of noblemen surrounding him.

Spying his entrance, Stephen called, “Fulke, my old
friend.”
 
Rising, he approached.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Count Blois,”
Fulke spoke loud enough to be heard over the din. “I take it you make for
Windsor?”
  

“Aye.” Stephen laughed. “Leave it to Henry to move the
court in the dead of winter.”

“I assumed you would be travelling with the king.”

Stephen gave him a wry smile. “Travelling by barge
with Henry’s entourage is one spectacle I choose to forego.”
 
He leaned close. “I wonder now that we find
ourselves together, if we might share a word in private.”

“Aye, of course.”

Following behind Stephen, he gestured for his men to
be seated.
 

In the darkened passage, Stephen opened several doors
until he found an empty storage room.
  

Closing the door to lean upon it, Fulke asked, “What
is the real reason you are not travelling with the king?”

Perched on a barrel, Stephen laughed. “I never could
deceive you, Fulke.” Turning serious, he said, “You are aware that Henry
intends to have the barons swear allegiance to Matilda?” At his curt nod,
Stephen continued, “I intend to oppose her ascension to the throne.”

Taken aback, it took Fulke a moment to respond. “You
are talking treason. Henry could have you thrown in the Tower for less.”

Stephen held up a hand. “I have no treachery in my
heart for my uncle, Fulke. I have found him to be a just and noble king.” He
frowned. “That is, until his ill-conceived notion to name the bitch he sired,
heir.”

“Yet, you plot against him?” Fulke asked
incredulously.

“You misunderstand. No move will be made against the
crown so long as Henry lives. He has left me no other choice, Fulke.”

“Henry has been currying favor on Matilda’s behalf for
some time now. Who else is aware of your intent?”

“There are those who will not be swayed,” he said
lightly, staring pointedly at Fulke. “Yet, there are also many on my side.”

“What of Henry’s intent to unite Matilda with
Geoffrey?”

“Fie. That pompous ass is no more fit to rule than
Matilda. It would be in Henry’s best interest to send him back to Anjou where
he belongs.”

“Stephen, I am loyal to Henry. What would you have me
do with such knowledge?”

“Fulke,” he sighed. “You have not only saved Henry’s
life on the battlefield, you have on countless occasions guarded my back.
 
The last thing I intend to do is put your
loyalty to Henry in jeopardy. I merely wished to inform you of where things
stand in the hopes you will consider supporting my claim once he is gone.”

“
Il qui essaye de
servir deux maîtrise des services ni l'un ni l'autre
,”
^[2]
Fulke replied softly.

Stephen threw his head back and laughed. “Your loyalty
is what makes me yearn to have you on my side, Fulke.”

Thinking of Henry’s hold over Reina, he said, “I will
not go against Henry in this matter. Matilda shall have my allegiance.”
 

Stephen shrugged it off. “Were Henry as wise as his
learning suggests, he would realize a man would swear to anything when their
balls are held between iron pincers.”

“There are those who would falsely take the
oath?”
 
The thought alone was
unconscionable to Fulke.

It was Stephen’s turn to look surprised. “Do you think
it would be the first time for them to do so?
 
Henry could make them beggars on a mere whim. You yourself have been the
beneficiary of his rage. Did you deem Castell Maen built for you? Are you
honestly surprised that men would lie to protect what is theirs by right of
birth?”

“It never would have occurred to me to do so.”

 
“I know my
friend. I know it. It is why I hold your opinion in such high esteem. With your
backing my claim, it would prove what I say to be right.”

“I am sorry, Stephen, it is not something I can decide
so long as Henry lives.” Troubled by the discussion, he ran a hand along the
back of his neck.
 
Stephen’s intent did
not bode well for the future peace of England.

 
Grasping his
thoughts, Stephen backed off. “Come, my friend.
 
If I know Henry, the time we speak of is far off.
 
Let me stand you a drink in celebration of
your recent nuptials.” He straightened, staring intently at Fulke. “I assume
your marriage is a cause for celebration?”

Mention of Reina had him pushing the matter to the
back of his mind.
 
“Aye Stephen, it is.

“Can it be that her ladyship has managed to tame
Henry’s most licentious knight?” Stephen jested.

“If I recall correctly, we competed against each other
for the title,” he replied with a smile.
 

“That was before I found my own sweet Matilda.” He
shook his head. “How she can be so different from my cousin astounds me.”

 
“In that, I am
pleased my bride’s parents did not go the popular route in naming Reina after
William’s queen.”

“You do not protest the fact that Henry has set your
wife up as his favorite?”

“Egad Stephen, you act as though I have a choice in
the matter.”
 

Stephen frowned, deep in thought. “It is not something
I would have expected from my uncle.
 
I
know him to be quite fond of you.”

“Henry does nothing without reason,” Fulke replied
evasively.

Stephen pressed for the advantage. “Humiliating you
before the court after all you have done for him is proof he is no longer
making able decisions.”

“The king’s motives are his own, Stephen.”
 
Hoping for an end to the conversation, he
continued, “Even those closest to him are not privy to his innermost thoughts.”

“If you think he beds her, you have nothing to fear on
that account.” Stephen sought to reassure him. “I have it on the best authority
that my uncle has been unable to rise to the occasion for quite some time now.”

“Then he would have no need for a favorite, Stephen.”

“Henry is nothing, if not proud, Fulke.
 
Having to conceal a secret such as his, whom
better to select than a woman who cannot speak of his lack of prowess?”

Stephen concluded Reina’s presence was nothing more
than an image for Henry to prove his waning virility. The king did indeed have
himself the perfect spy.

Continuing the charade, Fulke laced his question with
disgust. “Does not over a score of illegitimate issue speak well enough of the
king’s prowess?”

Stephen huffed, “To most it would. To Henry, he only
sees himself as having had and having lost, one son.”

On those treasonous words they re-entered the common
room.
 
Calling to the tapster, Stephen
slid a mug over to Fulke before holding up his own. “God’s blessings on your
union.”

He acknowledged with a nod before responding with a
tribute of his own. “May God steer you on a path that is just, Stephen.”

“I beg your pardon, my liege.” Warin interrupted.

“Ah Warin. Come meet Count Blois.”
 
Turning to Stephen, he said, “This is my page
and wife’s brother, Warin of Kenwick.”

Stephen dipped his head.
  

Warin’s eyes widened. “It is indeed an honor to meet
you, Count Blois.”

“It is always refreshing to meet someone in awe of
meeting me.” Stephen leaned close to Warin. “How fair you in his lordship’s
service, young page?”

“I could serve no man finer,” Warin replied proudly.

Stephen gripped Fulke’s shoulder. “Further proof of
what I speak.”

Unwilling to continue the topic, Fulke asked, “Why did
you seek me out, lad?”

“The worst of the storm appears to have passed, my
liege.”
      

Blowing out a breath in frustration, he replied, “We
may as well take rooms for the night.”
  

“You surprise me, Fulke,” Stephen said. “If it were my
wife waiting mere miles away, I would not tarry the night at a tavern.”
 

Fulke swung around in surprise. “Is not Henry in
residence at Westminster Hall?”

Stephen chuckled. “Aye, Henry is. Your wife is
not.
 
He sent her ahead days ago.”

Fulke jumped to his feet. “Warin, gather the men.”

Gripping Stephen’s shoulder, he said, “For the good of
England, I shall take your words to heart.”

“Thank you, Fulke.
 
Regardless of what the future holds, you can always count me as a
friend.”
 
He smiled. “Now go seek your
fair wife.”

It was near dark by the time they rode within sight of
Windsor. The thought of being with Reina again lifted the lead weight he had
carried in his chest since last they parted.
 
Fulke had finally come to accept what had been there from the start. He
loved her. More than himself, more than life itself, Reina had become
everything to him.
 
Unable to deny it any
longer, he would tell her everything, before laying his heart at her feet.

Dismounting by the stables, he led his horse in,
surprised to find Talan and Gervase. He waited for the men to greet each other,
before asking Talan, “Where is your lady?”

Gervase spoke up, “She is resting, my liege. She has
been overtired of late.”

“She is in good health, my liege,” Talan reassured
him.

He nodded his relief. “What have you to report since
last we spoke?”

“I never thought to say it, my liege,” Gervase sighed,
“but I am swived out.”

The men laughed as Guy looked at his friend with
concern. “Are you feeling ill, Gervase?”

He turned to hang on Guy’s shoulder. “Trust me, I
would rather fight a fully armed man in battle with my bare hands than be
forced to flatter a bunch of shallow hen-wits for one moment longer.” He turned
to Fulke with a grin. “Nevertheless, the seed has been planted, both literally
and figuratively, my liege.”
 

“Lady Reina informed me that the king believes
suspicion has fallen her way. She was sent ahead to quell the rumors before
they had a chance to spread further,” Talan added.

Fulke felt a moment of unease. “The lady remains
unaware of the plan?”

“She suspects nothing, my liege. Will you tell her,
now that you are here?” Talan asked.

“Reina is not to be involved. If I am to be called
before Henry for treason, it will not be with her by my side.”

They all nodded accord as Albin stepped forward to
grip Fulke’s shoulder. “It will not come to that, Fulke.”

“God willing, it will not, my friend.” He turned to
Talan. “Albin will update you on what Stephen of Blois revealed at a hostelrie
not far from here. It should make for an interesting Christmastide.” Passing
his reins to Warin, he said, “Gervase, lead me to my wife.”

Reina was dozing, curled up in the window-niche when
he entered. Removing his cloak, he absently tossed it aside. With his heart
racing, he slowly approached. He did not know how he could have ever denied his
love for her.
 
In the brief time he had
known her, she had become his everything.

Kneeling before her, he reached a hand to caress her
face when her eyes fluttered open.
“Am I dreaming you, my
lord?”

“Touch me and find out,” he whispered achingly.

She sat up to fling her arms around him as he drew her
into his embrace to hold her close. He felt her love wash over him as he closed
his eyes and opened his heart.
 

Easing her back, he drew in a shuttering breath as the
last vestiges of armor encasing him shattered. “I no longer wish there to be
barriers between us, Reina. I am ready to tell you all, if you are willing to
hear it.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she reached for his
hand.
“I am more than willing, my love.”

Unsure of where to start, he began at the beginning.
He told her about his mother Catrain, his father Joseph, three older sisters
Maerwyn, Isolde, Ysmay and younger brother, Benedict.

How as a young lad he resented the women in his family
smothering him. How he wanted nothing more than to be a warrior like his father
and grandfather before him.

He told her how pleased he was when his younger
brother was born, so he would no longer have to deal with the women’s doting
affections.

Then he told her about the fire.
 
The agony he suffered from losing them.
 
The overwhelming shame he felt at ever having
had a terrible thought about them.
 
How
for years he blamed himself for bringing destruction on his family by thinking
sinful thoughts.

About the years he fostered with Albin.
 
How Sir Hewett attempted to teach him the
joys of life, as well as prepare him for the horrors of battle.
 
How he chose to ignore the finer things,
throwing himself into training harder and longer. He told her how the bloodlust
of battle consumed him. How he managed to climb through the ranks until at the
Battle of Bremule he drew the attention of Henry himself.

He told her titles and favor meant nothing to him as
he sought out the next battle, praying it would either be the one to kill him,
or ease the pain in his heart, if only just a little.

Lowering his eyes in shame, he told her about the
countless women he bedded.
 
How he lost
himself in any willing woman for a time, hoping it would fill the void deep
within him.

What he felt the first time he saw her and how unworthy
he believed himself, admitting she had managed to find
 
a way into his frozen heart.
 
He confessed the guilt he felt when he
neglected to latch the gate the day before he left for Rochester and what went
through his mind when he saw her crumpled beneath the rail.

After he had told her all of these things, he said
solemnly, “I love you Reina. I have from the beginning.” He smoothed a tear
from her cheek with his fingertip. “My heart is yours, my lady. Do with it what
you will.”

Cupping his beloved face between trembling hands, she
replied,
“I shall guard it with my life.”
Taking
his hand, she guided it to the slight swell of the baby growing within her.
“Let the past go, for the sake of our future, Fulke.”

In awe, he bent to lay his head gently against the
slight swell of his child.
 
Wrapping his
arms around Reina’s waist, he drew in great hitching breaths. Images of his
family flashed through his mind as he finally freed himself of the pain that
had been his to bear for so long.
 
Harsh
broken sobs shook his frame as Reina wrapped her arms around his shoulders to
hold him.

He grieved for his family and lost youth, freeing
himself of the guilt he felt at not appreciating them when he had the chance.
He grieved for Sir Hewett who treated him like a son, refusing to give up on
him. He grieved for the men who fell by his sword, freeing himself of the
bitterness in his heart.

Finally, after the pain and despair had been lifted
from him, he sobbed with humble gratitude that God saw fit to send a silent
angel to rescue him.

His eyes glistened as he gazed up at Reina. “Albin was
right.” At her questioning look, he said brokenly, “God did put you in my
path.”

She ran her fingers through his hair to pull him
close.
“And you in mine, my love.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he gently lifted her
against him as he stood. Without breaking their tender kiss, he carried her to
the bed.
 
Leaning back, he undressed her
before following her down with a kiss.

He gazed lovingly into her eyes, before kissing them
closed. Trailing hot kisses across her cheeks, lips and throat, he moved down
to suckle her full breasts, before trailing lower to the slight swell of her
belly. Laying a cheek lightly against it, he caressed it reverently with his
fingertips.

Reina’s fingers slid through his hair as he trailed
lower to the heated core of her. She writhed beneath him as he began to worship
her with his mouth. Parting her slick folds with his fingers, he suckled her
center as she held him against her. Slipping one, then two fingers inside her,
he joined the rhythm of his tongue. He did not relent until her fingers gripped
his hair.
 
Throwing her head back, he
felt her entire body shudder as she climaxed.
 

Leaning back, he disrobed before returning to straddle
her. Pulling him down to her, Reina cupped his face.
“I love you,
Fulke.”

Kissing her, he whispered against her lips, “And I
love you, Reina.” Nuzzling her neck, she parted herself for him as he shifted
between her thighs to enter her warm heat.

Reina was his heart, his love and his home. He slowly
made love to her, never taking his gaze from her.

The world stood still for them as they lost
themselves. Climaxing together on a wave of pleasure so intense, it united them
as one.

* * * *

Fulke gazed tenderly at his sleeping wife, feeling
more content than he had ever felt before. One small woman with the heart of a
warrior had freed him from a life of pain.
 
Pulling the coverlet high over her exposed shoulder, he kissed her brow,
slipping from the bed to dress.

Walking through the darkened passages, he heard the
sound of drunken laughter coming from a room off the Great Hall. Following the
sound, he found his men in an anteroom enjoying a small feast.

Stepping into the room, he smiled. “If ever I am in
need of you bunch of louts, all I have to do is seek out drink.”

Well into their cups on the king’s costly wines, the
men shouted or slurred in his general direction.

Unused to the potent French drink, Albin staggered to
his feet. “Come and sup with us, Fulke.”

Quirking an amused brow, Fulke began to fill a plate
for Reina when the men staggered in one way or another to their feet, shouting
a drunken chorus of, “My lady.”

Fulke crossed to her. “Did I wake you when I left, my
love?”

She smiled up at him.
“The bed
grew cold, and I missed you.”

Taking her hand, he kissed it. “Come eat something. I
shall assure the drunken oafs behave themselves.”

She squeezed his hand to stop him.
“No Fulke, please leave them be. Truth be told, there has been very
little joy of late.”

With a tender smile, he guided her to the sideboard.
Filling her plate high, she reached to stop him.
“My appetite
has not changed so much, my lord.”

“Then we shall share the plate.” Bending down, he
kissed her.

Leading her to a table away from the rowdy drunkards,
he watched his men with amusement.

Warin was so overjoyed to see Reina that he lurched to
his feet, spilling his wine all over the table.
 
Staggering forward with his arms outstretched, he missed Reina by
several feet.
 
Fearing he would fall on
her, Fulke gripped his shoulders to turn him around.
   

Stumbling back to the table, he used a chair to hold
himself steady. “I have missed you, Reina,” he slurred, falling hard into his
seat.

Staring at him in surprise, Fulke smiled.
 
It was the first time he heard Warin speak
aloud while directly addressing Reina. “I fear our Warin has fallen in with a
rowdy bunch, my lady.”

She gazed fondly at her brother.
“It would
appear so, my lord.”

He bent to give her a quick kiss. “It fills me with
great joy to see you so happy.”

They both looked up as Guy staggered to within five
feet of her. Swaying, he attempted a bow that had him laying face first on the
slate flooring.

Stepping up to help, Gervase missed the first time he
made a grab for him. Managing to grip an arm, he yanked Guy up.
 
Leaning heavily on each other, they staggered
their way back to the table.

Belatedly realizing he did not greet his lady, Guy
whirled around. “My lady, I have composed a sonnet to your beauty.”

Smothering a laugh, Reina glanced up at Fulke.

“Perhaps another time when you feel more yourself,”
Fulke offered.

“I have been working on it these hours past, my
liege,” Guy, implored.

“That is what concerns me, lad.”

Accepting this for permission, Guy lurched forward
into a drunken bow, calling loudly,

Many
lasses have turned this