A True and Perfect Knight (29 page)

“Must you tell Edward?”

“This is his castle, Gennie. The silver belongs to the crown. I hold it by Edward’s grace.”

“I see. But could you not use some of the crown’s silver to make improvements to the crown’s grace?”

Haven smiled. “I will certainly put that in my message to Edward.”

A few weeks later, Haven went in search of Gennie and for the third time in as many days found her in close conversation with Pwyll. They sprang apart at the sight of him. What attraction did the young Welshman have for his wife? Haven shook the thought away as foolish. Gennie was so enthusiastic in their bed at night, she could have no passion left for another man. She had even said she loved him, a declaration he still found hard to believe, but one he reveled in every day.

“Sir Haven, well met. I’ve news,” said Pwyll.

Gennie excused herself, saying she needed to consult with Rene on the evening meal.

Impatient with his wife’s desertion, Haven spoke sharply. “What is it, Pwyll?”

“I found an entrance to the mine on the far side of the hill opposite the keep.”

“Did anyone see you?” Haven asked, instantly interested.

“Nay. Nor is this other entrance easy to find.”

“Good. I will have Soames add the location to our patrols.”

“Won’t he wonder why?”

“Mayhap, but more like he’ll be embarrassed that he forgot to add it to the patrol in the first place. Behind that hill is an excellent place for an enemy to gather for a surprise attack.”

Pwyll nodded. “I am not used to this business of keeping secrets. How long do you think it will be until the king sends a response to your message?”

“Who can say? It will take two weeks to get word to Chester and back. Since the king is elsewhere fighting Llewellyn, we must wait until the messenger finds him.”

“Then there is nothing left to do but wait.”

“Aye.”

“If that will be all, sir, I will see to progress on the well. You are right that the cistern is vulnerable to attack. A well located in the dungeon will be much more secure.”

“Aye. If you need more men, let me know.”

Pwyll bowed and left.

Haven headed for the practice field that now occupied a large section of the bailey. On his way, he noticed Watley talking with Rebecca near a corner of the stables. Obviously, neither had learned discretion during his illness. The relationship could not be allowed to continue. Haven changed course, coming up on the couple from behind the stable. “Ahem.”

Just like Pwyll and Gennie, they started apart, as if discovered in something sinful.

“Good day to you, Mistress Rebecca.” Haven spoke as if he had noticed nothing unusual. “Watley, I understand that your training has been sadly lacking since I fell ill.”

“Aye, Sir Haven.”

“Then join me on the practice field.”

“Aye, Sir Haven.”

Haven waited.

“G-goodbye, Rebecca.”

“Goodbye, Watley.” She lifted her hem and walked off.

“I hope you are not being drawn in by her again?” Haven asked.

The squire remained silent.

Just as well, Haven thought. There wasn’t much the lad could say. But he caught the glint in Watley’s eye and the tension in his jaw as they walked to the practice field. No doubt the squire wanted to teach him a lesson. Let him try.

There could be no better training than to fight a man you wanted to beat some sense into. Today Watley would learn to check his emotions before he joined in battle.

With a groan of relief, Haven settled into bed beside Gennie. Watley had gotten in several good blows before Haven could taunt him into carelessness and defeat the younger man. With that fight finished, it seemed that every available man wanted to test Haven’s strength. He knew they needed confirmation that he was completely recovered, so he accepted every challenge.

And he bested them all, save Owain, which surprised no one, since Haven had taken the big man on last. Haven had hidden his aches and pains well from the men, but in the privacy of his own chamber, he could acknowledge how ill-prepared he had been for this day’s exercise. When Gennie snuggled next to him, Haven did no more than anchor her to his side with an arm about her waist before nodding off to sleep.

Had it not been for the dropping of his arm, Haven might not have noticed Gennie slip from the bed and leave the solar. As it was, between his own aches and Gennie’s soft footsteps padding about the room, Haven came quickly awake. But Gennie was gone just as quickly, or Haven would have called out to her. He spent moments in thought, then followed her as rapidly as he could don his clothing.

Either his pains had slowed him more than he expected, or Gennie was in a great hurry, for her blue cloak trailed around the corner at the bottom of the stair just as Haven reached its head. He dared not rush down the steps. New as they were, they had a tendency to squeak and groan. Thus, by the time he cleared the stairs, Gennie had disappeared.

Had the outer door of the keep not stood open, Haven would have guessed that she headed toward the new keeping room near the soon-to-be-finished well. But finding the door open was so odd that he had to pursue that path first. No doubt he had missed her and would find her back in bed on his return.

Haven eased out the door. He rested a moment, surveying the bailey below. A guard marched his post on the inner curtain wall from stables to gatehouse. Haven hurried across to him.

“Who goes there?” The words came at Haven in heavily accented English.

“Sir Haven,” he told the Welshman. “Have you seen anyone pass this way?”

The man wrinkled his face and pondered, finally uttering, “Aye.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. “Was it a woman?”

Again that painful look of concentration. “Nay.”

Haven should have known. Gennie was probably back in bed already.

“’Twas a man and a woman.”

“What?”

The guard jumped.

Haven reminded himself not to shout.

“I said, ‘’twas…’”

“I know what you said. Which way did they go?”

“T’the stables, sir,” the guard added.

“My thanks. Return to your post.”

The guard hurried away.

Haven paced soft-footed toward the stables. There too, the door stood ajar. Someone was being careless. Haven slipped through the opening and stepped into the shadows cast by the loft. At the far end of the building, two horses stood saddled and ready to ride.

In front of the horses, a man embraced a woman. Haven recognized Gennie’s blue cloak. She had gone into alt when he had presented it to her as a wedding gift, along with a trunk full of clothing.

The man wore nothing that revealed his identity. Haven watched as the two kissed, murmured and kissed again. It was obvious that Gennie was about to leave him. Through a haze of red, he debated letting her go.

But she knew all the keep’s defenses, and she knew of the silver mine. He could not allow her to betray him or anyone else. The couple had to be stopped. The man would learn a valuable lesson about letting his cock guide his head, and the deceitful lady would get her just desserts.

Letting out a frustrated roar, Haven gave his opponent enough warning to let go of the woman. Then Haven grabbed the fellow, intent upon beating him senseless. The man’s nose made a satisfying crunch under Haven’s fist, but that only whetted his appetite. He throttled the man with one hand, picked him up and slammed him against the stone wall of the stable.

The woman screamed. Horses reared and snorted. The commotion drew footsteps. Amid the yelling and chaos, Haven continued to pound his fists into his victim’s face and ribs. He didn’t even stop when the fist bucket of cold water hit him. To pull him from the man’s bruised and bloody body required another dousing and two strong men. The haze cleared. Haven looked down at the man who dared to touch Gennie.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Watley, my love,” Rebecca wailed. “That brute has beaten you like a churl.”

What was Rebecca doing here? Haven stopped struggling against the men who held him. “Would someone tell me what is going on here?”

“Indeed, husband, I too would like to know why you attacked Watley.”

Haven craned his neck to see his wife.

Covered in her nightrobe and shawl, Gennie stood in the doorway to the stables, surrounded by curious folk.

Haven shook his head. If Gennie wore her robe, then who wore Gennie’s cloak? He turned back to the man and woman nearest him. Watley groaned on the stable floor. Rebecca knelt next to him. From beneath the hood of Gennie’s cloak, the girl looked up at Haven with hatred clear in her eyes. “Beast,” she spat out and bent once more over Watley.

Haven studied Gennie, who smiled and moved to his side. What did she have to smile about?

“Husband, have you been beastly to your squire again?” She took his arm.

“Again?”

“
Oui
, I understand that you defeated him most grievously at practice today.”

“That was not beastly. That was training.”

“Yes, husband. I am glad you cleared that up for us.” She looked pointedly at Rebecca, then touched Haven’s face. “You have a cut, sir.”

He put his hand to where hers soothed his forehead. Given his fierce onslaught, Watley had done well to land any blow. Haven spent a glance on his squire. “Can you stand?” he asked the young man.

Watley tested his jaw, moving it from side to side. “Aye.”

Haven bent and offered a hand.

The young man grasped it, hauling himself upright. “I do not apologize for hitting you. You deserved punishment for defying my express orders to stay away from Rebecca Dreyford.”

Watley nodded.

“I do apologize for mistaking Rebecca for my wife, and therefore for the extent of the punishment meted out.”

“’Twas an easy mistake to make,” mumbled the squire, who continued to check that all his teeth remained in place.

“Well enough. Return to the barracks. Soames will get someone to tend to your hurts.”

Watley left, pushing through the people who surrounded the stable door.

Haven frowned at the crowd, and they fled like sparrows before a hawk.

Gennie chuckled, “You are so very fierce, husband.”

Haven turned his frown on her.

“’Twill take more than an unhappy look from you to vanquish me, sir.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I will deal with you later.” He straightened his expression and looked at Rebecca.

The girl stood in the corner of a stall, a vision of cowering defiance.

“You have much to answer for, Mistress Dreyford.” Haven stepped toward her.

“Nay,” the girl cried and burst into tears. “Do not touch me. You are a cruel man.”

Taken aback by this outburst, he halted and felt Gennie’s hand on his arm. He looked back at her. “Wife?”

“She is hysterical, husband. Permit me to take care of her.”

Wanting no more to do with Rebecca than she with him, Haven nodded. “I will await you in the solar. But we will have words, wife.”

With Haven gone, Gennie suppressed the impulse to hug and soothe. In the past, she had used gentleness with Rebecca to no avail. ’Twas time to be firm. Gennie advanced on her weeping sister-in-law. “I would have my cloak, Rebecca.”

The girl turned tear-filled eyes on Gennie. “But ’tis cold out.”

Gennie gripped her temper. “
Oui.
You are dressed, and I am in my nightrobe. Think you I feel the cold less than you?”

Chastened, Rebecca removed the garment, handing it to Gennie with a watery, “I am sorry.”

Gennie donned the cloak. “’Tis not enough this time, Rebecca.”

The girl bent her head.

“1 counseled you often not to give in to your affections for Watley, did I not?”

“Aye.”

“Yet you ignore my counsel. Plot against my husband. Steal from me. And lead a young man astray to his detriment. ’Tis beyond understanding.”

“But I love Watley, and he loves me.”

“I do not doubt that you believe you are in love. Even if it is true, do you think love excuses your thoughtless actions?”

Rebecca twisted her hands together and mumbled a response.

“I could not hear you.”

Gennie’s sister-in-law straightened her shoulders and looked up. “No, my actions are inexcusable.”

“That is better. Since you recognize your fault, I am willing to intercede with Haven for you.”

“Oh, Gennie, thank you.”

Gennie found herself in a fierce hug. “Don’t thank me too quickly. You must do something for me in exchange.”

“I will do anything.”

“Think carefully before you agree. Your actions cannot go unpunished, Rebecca.”

“Anything, I promise.”

“Very well. You must accept with good grace whatever consequences my husband allots.”