Knight of Runes (17 page)

Rebeka walked up the path to Elfrida’s cottage with a basket of herbs. It was a beautiful afternoon, and she noticed the new thatching on the roof. She heard the snap of the freshly washed laundry rustling in the wind. Inside she could smell baking bread and the pungent scent of the cheese sitting on the table. She wasn’t the only one looking in on Elfrida.

Elfrida stories were a wonderful source of information. Rebeka hoped to corroborate the older woman’s stories with documents in the library and Leticia’s journal. Elfrida seemed to enjoy the company and the new audience.

“That old Doward must be afraid I’ll steal his business.” She tapped Rebeka’s hand and laughed, pleased with her remark. She shifted a bit in her chair to get comfortable. “Today I’ll tell you about Letty,” she said, a satisfied smile on her face.

Rebeka brought a chair closer to Elfrida. The old woman took her hand.

“Letty was three years younger than Arik. Her big brother watched over her worse than her old nanny.” She shook her head. Obviously some private thought tickled her. “Well, she married Sir Radulf and had the two girls. How Radulf fussed over them, a big warrior like him. He loved those girls but not nearly as much as he loved Letty. Autumn Chase rang with his booming voice and laughter.”

Autumn Chase?
“Sir Stuart’s home?”

Shaken out of her daydream, Elfrida blinked and, with a heavy sigh, focused on Rebeka. “Radulf was Stuart’s older brother, gone now these ten years, taken by the fever. Those were frightening times and not only because of the fever. It’s when the lightning started.”

Rebeka’s heartbeat quickened at the mention of the lightning. Eager for answers, she squeezed the woman’s hand, encouraging her to continue.

“The lightning came out of nowhere.”

“No rain?”

“Not at all. No clouds in the sky, only the sun.”

Rebeka’s brows wrinkled as she thought. If it was dry lightning, the rain evaporated before reaching the ground, there would be clouds. Lightning from a cloudless sky?

Elfrida gave her a sideways glance and took a deep breath. “Very few have seen the bright flash of blue lightning. The only time anyone knows the lightning has hit is when they see smoke from the burning meadow. No one has ever seen it strike, except Letty. She saw it strike once.”

Rebeka sat up quickly, pulling her hand away from Elfrida. She wanted to bolt for her cottage and Leticia’s diaries but forced herself to stay calm.

“Enough about the weather for now. Have you heard about the festival?”

“Will you be going?” Actually, Rebeka wanted to hear more about the lightning, but she knew better. She got up and made them both a cup of tea.

“Of course I will. I make the syllabub. It’s Aubrey’s favorite.”

“It’s mine, too,” said Rebeka

“What will you do for the festival?”

“I’ve made some herb sachets for everyone and some fragrant lavender oil. I hope the villagers like them.”

“How could they not with you their favorite citizen?”

“Favorite citizen?” Rebeka had made an effort
not
to get involved with the villagers. Between the fear of changing history and leaving soon, she decided it was best that way

“Yes. When they come here for a visit, the talk is all about you. Your herbs and how young Aubrey has at last come alive again since her mother’s passing. If your coming here only accomplished that, your travel was worth it. I feared for her. Everyone feared for her.”

“I did nothing but make myself available to her. She’s a bright and loving child.” Rebeka wanted to change the subject. “What parts of the festival do you like the best?”

“I like all of it, everybody having fun, eating, the bonfire and singing at the end. Yes, I like it all.”

Rebeka gave Elfrida her tea and sat on the second most comfortable chair not far from her.

“Arik has asked me to the family table. Aubrey made a special request. She asked him to formally invite me. Kiss on the knuckles and formal speech and all. She was so excited.”

“You’re excited too.” Elfrida finished her tea and set the cup down.

“This is the first harvest festival I’m going to and everyone in the village is working so hard and in such good spirits. You can’t help but be excited.”

“You should be, especially around the bonfire. There’s magic in the air around the bonfire.” Elfrida sat back, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Rebeka was used to the old woman dozing while she visited. She quietly left her sleeping. She would stop by again tomorrow before the festival.

Arik took a bag of winnowed wheat from Alfred.

“That’s the last one, m’lord.”

He heaved it onto the pile of bags in the barn. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. He stretched his back, looked out the barn door and gave a worried look at the clear sky. “It’s a better harvest than I expected. We’re more fortunate than Easton. The weather killed much of their crops. We’ll have to decide how much we can set aside for them.”

“It’s good it hasn’t rained here. We can begin milling the wheat once everyone’s head clears after today’s festival.” Alfred mopped his face with a rag. The two men left the barn.

“Yes. Everyone worked hard. They have good cause to celebrate today.”

“Aubrey told everyone how this festival will be fit for the king himself. Well, if there is nothing else, m’lord, I will be going.” Alfred left for the village.

Arik crossed the drive. He had to admit he was looking forward to the celebration. He walked to the front of the Manor and found it bustled with activity. Manor staff rushed about from table to table, covering them with white linens. Jeannie, with several of the village women, stood sentinel and supervised.

Aubrey and a gaggle of village children decorated everything in sight even the guardsmen. Each one sported a flower in the buttonhole of their tunic.

Everyone was doing something. He thrived on the charged mood and his people’s enthusiasm. If only it could be like this all the time.

While the feast finished cooking, the men put together the wood for the evening’s bonfire. The musicians carried in their instruments. One carriage after another filled with villagers and guests drove up to the Manor.

“He’s coming,” Aubrey shouted and ran to Arik. “Martin’s at the gate. He said he could see Sir Stuart.” Aubrey ran over to Rebeka. “Sir Stuart is bringing the first harvested hay. Then Uncle Arik will start the festival.” She took her place beside Katherine.

Rebeka helped with the last preparations and stood on the Manor porch close to the family with some of the other guests. She hadn’t noticed Arik arrive, but stopped to look at him. He was dressed in courtier clothes, tight black britches with shiny black leather boots fitting snugly over his calves. The soft white shirt tucked into his britches caressed his well-built body. The beautiful dark green leather jacket, worn long and loose, was slightly tapered at the waist, accentuating his broad shoulders. The sleeves were long with a deep cuff. Around his neck he wore a gold braided torque. His deep genuine smile took her breath away as he stood on the Manor porch tall and proud. Logan, Skylar and Aubrey were beside him, Katherine next to them, close to the wall.

The villagers’ cheers grew louder as Stuart rode up, a young man beside him. A carriage with two beautiful women followed. Stuart was dressed in the same style as Arik, but he paled in comparison. That must be his wife Lady Beatrice, daughter Holly and cousin Robert, thought Rebeka, craning her neck to get a better look. They joined Arik on the porch.

“Welcome to Fayne Manor,” Arik announced loudly.

“Lord Arik, I bring you the first bale of hay from this harvest.” Stuart waved the wagon on. It lumbered past the Manor on its way to the barn. Stuart and his party came onto the porch and Arik offered Stuart a goblet of wine. Both men raised their glasses high. “To hearth and home!” They spoke in unison and the crowd erupted with wild cheering. Rebeka’s heart swelled hearing her father’s words. These were her people, she realized. For an instant, she felt this was the only place she belonged.

Arik was a gracious host. Followed by Jeannie and a tray of goblets he handed one to each guest and raised a toast with them, giving them his full attention. This was a side of Arik she had never seen. She turned to go into the Manor, but a gentle touch on her arm drew her attention. Arik held out a goblet to her. “Drink with me.”

She took the offered goblet. “To hearth and home.”

“To hearth and home,” she murmured. She sipped the heady wine but didn’t take her eyes off him.

“I hope you enjoy the day’s festivities. Do you like games?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

“In which ones will you take part?” He appeared in no hurry to move on.

“Some of the board games Aubrey arranged and possibly the Pall Mall.” She took a deep breath and relaxed, the tension dissolved. “Which will you join?”

“Possibly the tug-of-war, maybe even the Pall Mall.” His eyes danced with mischief.

He walked with her through the crowd and introduced her to his other guests. Rebeka found the light conversation delightful. Her extensive knowledge of the era was a boon to helping her blend in.

But it was the man who escorted her that was the biggest surprise. His attitude was casual, not the brooding commander she was used to seeing. She found him charming and playful. There was a magnetism about him that excited her. He made witty comments that made her laugh heartily. And when he smiled…it took her breath away.

“Well, Arik, who is this? I heard a delightful sound and knew it could not be you,” Stuart teased.

Next to each other, the men looked similar. They were both warriors with broad shoulders and trim hips. Stuart had a refined cultured look while Arik gave the impression of great strength and power. She was certain in a large crowd, people would instinctively move out of his way.

Before Arik could make the introduction, Rebeka curtsied. “I am…” She stood still. She looked at Arik and briefly closed her eyes. She would let Arik introduce her.

Arik gave her an appreciative smile. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her wrist. “Sir Stuart, this is my guest, Rebeka Tyler from London.”

Rebeka didn’t know what to say. She could not get her mind off what he was doing to her wrist. The small circles he drew soothed and comforted her and were somewhat erotic. She tried to pull her hand away but he would have none of that. She didn’t try overly hard.

“Good day, Rebeka Tyler. I am pleased to meet you,” Stuart offered with a nod. “Arik, you better warn Logan. My wife is determined to make him a match with our Holly. They like each other well enough.” Stuart smiled.

“Stuart, leave it to them to decide. Liking is not good enough for a lifelong commitment. Let them spend some time together. If the liking grows then there may be hope. You know nothing would please me more.”

His remark startled her. She understood his desire for a deep lifelong commitment. It was a value she cherished. Still, she hadn’t expected it of him. Although when she thought about it, wasn’t his devotion to his family and villagers a clear sign?

Logan approached Arik. “Brother, the men are calling you for the wrestling match. Will you take their challenge?”

Stuart whispered to Rebeka. “This is an annual event. He’ll take on any man. He never loses. Watch how this spectacle plays out. I enjoy it more each year.”

Arik made his way to the top of the steps as Marcus approached from below. “M’lord,” he shouted. Everyone quieted. “M’lord, your men and Sir Stuart’s have planned a wrestling tournament to see who amongst them is the strongest. We ask you be judge.” The crowd remained quiet to hear their lord’s response.

“How would I judge?” Arik’s eyes lit in mock surprise.

“Why, Lord Arik, trial by might, of course,” Marcus answered with a big grin and a slight bow.

Soft whispers ran through the crowd. “Will Lord Arik take the challenge? Will he wrestle the winner?”

Arik looked to be in deep concentration. His brows were furrowed and he stroked his chin. Everyone waited for several minutes. Rebeka enjoyed the suspense and tension that built and, she suspected, Arik enjoyed it too. Finally, he answered.

“I will wrestle, but…” he let the
but
hang there for a dramatic effect, “…for a lady’s favor.” The crowd gasped in surprise. Even Stuart looked startled.

Katherine preened. Pulling out her handkerchief, she raised her hand and took a step forward.

Arik turned to Aubrey. “My lady, will you give me a favor I may carry with me into battle?”

Aubrey was speechless. She stared at him perplexed.

“Well, princess,” he whispered, bending down to her. “You have to say something.”

She beamed at her uncle. “Lord Arik, you are my champion. I give you my scarf to wear as your favor.”

Once again, the crowd cheered. Arik bowed slightly to Aubrey and received her scarf. “Well done, princess.” He gently kissed her cheek.

Tying the scarf around his thigh, he strutted down the stairs to join his men. The crowd followed them through the village and out to the lake.

Several hours and tankards of ale later, it was time for Arik to “judge” the final wrestler. He stood with Stuart, Beatrice and Rebeka. “Rebeka, hold these for me.” He took off his jacket and shirt and gave them to her. He took off his boots. He took Aubrey’s scarf off his thigh. “Tie this around my arm.”

She took the scarf from him and began to tie it around his arm. When her fingers touched his skin a charge raced through her, and her cheeks grew hot. Her eyes traveled to his hard body. He had a golden tan and well-defined muscles that rippled when they moved and was marked with tattoos. The tattoos held her enthralled. They were runes and ancient symbols. They started below his right shoulder blade, traveled up and over his shoulder, down the right side of his chest, and disappeared into his britches. Her fingers itched to touch the runes. She tied the scarf around his arm and patted her palm on his chest. “Don’t hurt him too much.”

He gave her a big smile and entered the circle.

The men got into their starting positions, crouching, feet offset, and arms shoulder-width apart. They circled, sized each other up and searched for an opportunity to strike. Nickolas struck first. He ducked and dove for Arik’s legs. With quick reflexes, Arik sprawled kicking his legs out and pushed down on Nickolas’ back. The two got up and reset.

They circled again. This time, Arik made the strike. He cleared Nickolas’ hands, breaking his defense, and wrapped his arms around Nickolas’ legs. Arik climbed back to his feet and draped Nickolas over his shoulder. Nicholas struggled to get back to the ground but Arik’s arm snaked around his opponent’s neck. With one fluid motion, Arik twisted and slammed Nickolas to the ground, pinning his shoulders. The crowd roared. Both men had tankards of ale shoved into their hands. They drank and laughed. One down and two to go. They began again.

“Sir Stuart, do you wrestle?” Rebeka asked while she watched.

“Not for the last several years. The wrestling match is the highlight of the festival and was always between Arik and me. We’ve been friends since boyhood and have always challenged one another. We would drive our parents mad with our mischief. Our festival matches always ended in a draw. Several years ago, it was difficult to maintain a draw. My friend gets stronger every year while I, he tells me, grow fatter.” She stared at Stuart in disbelief. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. He looked as robust and capable as Arik. They returned their attention to the match.

“Don’t believe him,” Holly told her as she and Rebeka walked around the circle to get a better view of the match. Stuart was off speaking to a neighbor.

Arik caught Nickolas in a headlock.

“My father is as good a wrestler as Arik. Several years ago, my brother was playacting a wrestling match with his friend. They were only young boys and didn’t know their strength or the dangers. Roric died. My father felt it was his fault and hasn’t wrestled since.”

“But, Holly, it was only a terrible accident. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Yes, we know but in his heart it’s something else.”

The cheering and whooping climaxed.

“We must have a winner,” Stuart called as he walked up to the women.

Arik gave Nickolas a hand up off the ground. Nickolas bowed slightly and Arik clapped him on the back. Someone called for more ale and both men were handed tankards. Rivulets of ale cascaded down the sides of their chins, splashing on their muddy chests as they drained the ale dry.

Rebeka met up with Arik at the Pall Mall game.

“The next stroke is yours,” said Arik.

Rebeka, mallet in hand, studied her ball and took careful aim. She adjusted her stance, turned slightly and took a solid swing. The crowd of players and onlookers watched her ball fly over the ground, bouncing over ruts. It looked like her ball would fly off the course but to everyone’s amazement, it hit Arik’s ball and stopped abruptly teetering on the edge of a precipice. Arik’s ball, squarely hit, went off the course and down the slide.

“Well, m’lord, I’m so sorry to have hit your ball and sent it flying.” She sashayed up to him and laid her hand gently on his chest. “I’ll wait for you at the final hoop.” She smiled.

He raised his eyebrow, gave her a most charming smile and took her hand. “Oh, m’lady, it won’t take me long to be back at your side. My ball will fly to be near yours,” he teased nodding graciously to her. Rebeka heard a collective intake of breath from the crowd and turned in time to watch her ball begin to slip from its spot. Little by little, it rolled until it toppled off the edge and landed next to Arik’s ball, nudging it slightly.

Rebeka turned to Arik, a stunned look on her face. They both let out a peal of laughter.

Arik placed his mallet over his shoulder, turned and extended his arm to Rebeka. “Shall we, m’lady?”

She shouldered her mallet and took his arm. “Most certainly, m’lord.” They found Arik’s ball first. It sat brazenly in the open waiting for him. Rebeka’s ball was another story. After nudging Arik’s ball, it rolled farther down the hill into a clump of nettles. Arik helped her look for her ball, using his mallet to sweep away and hold back the bushes as she searched.

“Be careful, the nettles will sting.” He pulled her back from the bush.

She stepped back on an unsteady spot to avoid one bush but was accosted by another tangling her hair.

“Here, let me help you,” he said. “Put your arms around me to keep steady while I work your hair loose.”

She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his chest while he worked to untangle her hair. She nestled her head closer to him as he struggled to free her. Lost in the sensation, she became aware of a sudden change. She picked up her head and found him staring at her, gently caressing her hair.