After the Storm (5 page)

"I loved the fair."

"Then it's settl—"

"You're ugly and stupid and I hate you!"

"Henry!" The voice that roared from the doorway was Sir Stephan's. Reynard of Elansted was with him, his hand resting on his sword hilt.

Libby watched, appalled, as the young man whirled on his father and shouted.

"It's true! I won't have her." He pointed. "If I must marry one of your friend's daughters, I'll take the Welshwoman instead."

"Get out!"

Matilda was crying, shaking in Marj's embrace. Libby discovered that she was on her feet, shaking as well, but with anger. What had the girl done to deserve Henry DuVrai's shouting at her like that? And why did people keep talking about her getting married? Not that that was important right now. As Henry stomped out she went to kneel in front of Matilda. Something definitely needs to be done about Henry, she thought. She took the girl's hand in her own. Something needed to be done for Matilda as well.

"Why me, Lord?" she muttered.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

"Runs in the family," Marj muttered back. "Are we staying?"

Before she could answer she heard Reynard of Elansted say, "You're right, my lord. It's best I and my men stay here until after the fair."

If Reynard was staying, she realized, so were his prisoners. She wanted contact with those prisoners. Maybe she could do something with Matilda, something that didn't break any Time Search rules, while she also worked on her own research.

She looked up at Marj. "Yes," she said. "We're staying for the fair."

May Day morning was absolutely glorious, bright with sunlight, green with spring, the breeze warm and scented with flowers, the crowd was full of laughter and good cheer. Libby, seated with Sibelle and her women on benches on the wide top step of the hall entrance, had a clear view of much of the activity.

Colorful tents and stalls were spread through the inner and outer baileys and all the way down into Passfair village. Whenever the breeze shifted it brought the aromas of fresh-baked bread, honey cakes and roasting meat. Merchants and entertainers and townsfolk had come from the surrounding countryside, Canterbury, and as far as London. There was a tourney list set up, and targets for archery. The click and thud of the quar-terstaff competition could be heard in the distance. A great pile of wood stood ready to become a bonfire come sunset, and a maypole was set up in the center of the inner bailey, decked with flowers and ribbons. There was a race going on involving relay teams carrying huge baskets of flowers picked from the fields at dawn. Flowers, in fact, were everywhere, worn braided in both men's and women's hair, carried by the children. Colorful garlands were hung on every conceivable spot.

A crown of gilded flowers and a hood of green rested on a length of red velvet on the castle steps, waiting to be awarded to a lucky couple at the end of the day.

At Passfair, the most important part of the celebration was the crowning of the Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Queen of the May and her consort, the Hooded Man.

Libby looked fondly at her godmother. Just being with the serene little woman was helping her. While she'd tried to cope with Matilda and taken part in the life of the castle for the last couple of days she'd enjoyed Sibelle's maternal presence.

Even while she hated living in a drafty castle and coping with snide remarks from the priest and clumsy passes from Henry, the time with her godmother had been restful.

Time Search people weren't supposed to have any more impact on the locals than was necessary to conduct research. Libby wondered if there were any rules about the locals having an impact on Time Search personnel. The thought made her turn her head toward the courtyard, where Marj Jones was talking to Sir Reynard. Marj did her best to avoid the man, but he was constantly seeking her out. Their gazes were constantly meeting from across a room. Marj looked haunted, and didn't talk about the sheriff. It was so hard to watch Marj reluctantly falling in love that it hurt.

"They make a handsome couple," Lady Sibelle said as she noticed where her goddaughter's attention was centered. "Of an age and of proper rank. They deal very well together."

"Hmm," was the noncommittal answer.

"Do you wish to discuss the match with Sir Reynard?"

Isabeau jumped as though she'd been struck. "What?"

"Perhaps I should have my lord discuss the subject, then," Sibelle suggested when she saw how startled the girl was at her suggestion.

"No, no," Isabeau told her hurriedly. "I don't think marriage is quite—. No." She cleared her throat. "It isn't possible."

Sibelle looked at the couple in the courtyard, oblivious of all but each other. She Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

doubted very much that Isabeau was correct about the possibility of their coming together, but she said no more about it. Those two were old enough to make their own arrangements without anyone worrying about the formalities.

With marriage very much on her mind on this fire festival day, Sibelle glanced at Matilda. The girl looked handsome this morning, dressed in pale blue, her light brown hair combed out to hang loosely around her face. A wreath of bluebells that matched the color of her eyes crowned her head.

"You're beautiful, my dear," she said, patting the girl's hand. Her words managed to draw a shy smile from Matilda. She'd been smiling more since spending time with Isabeau and away from Henry. The problem was, the girl was going to spend the rest of her life with Henry. "Henry is down by the lists," she said, and stood. So was Guy. While Guy was supposed to be destined for the Church, Sibelle was considering him for Isabeau. She took her goddaughter by one hand, her future daughter-in-law by the other. "Come, ladies. Let us go see how my sons are faring in their practice."

Marj and the sheriff joined them as they crossed the courtyard. Marj put as many people as she could between herself and Reynard, and Libby heard her sigh.

Libby gave her a sympathetic look, and sighed herself because she knew Sibelle was interested in her getting a good look at Guy's bare chest. The local custom was for the men to compete bare-chested. The local women no doubt thought it romantic. But she and Marj weren't local, and romance was the last thing either of them needed. Besides, Guy's chest was far from impressive. And he couldn't be a day over fifteen.

And speaking of bare chests
, she thought as her attention was drawn to the clattering of quarterstaffs,
Ed needs to go on a diet
.

Ed Feldshuh was sparring with a tall, lanky stranger. Crossing quarterstaffs with Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

a local in a contest was probably close to breaking the rules, but this was the sort of day where it was more conspicuous to observe than to interact. She started to call out encouragement to Ed, but then his opponent whirled around, dark hair flying. She got her first good look at the man as he knocked the heavy staff out of Ed's hands.

The stranger was fast as a cat, his sharp, predator's features intent on the hunt, the triumph in his eyes evident even at this distance. He was not fifteen. And his chest, dark-furred, covered in a sheen of sweat, was very nice indeed.

"Oh, my God," Libby choked out, and stopped dead in her tracks while the world whirled madly around her.

Marj was at her side instantly. "What?" she whispered, taking Libby's arm as she teetered dizzily. "Another headache? What?"

Libby blinked. Her friend was blocking the stranger from her sight. "Headache?"

Definitely. Her temples were suddenly throbbing.

The sunlight was too bright, but the air was also full of gibbering shadows.

Fortunately, the pain lasted only a moment. Sibelle put her arm around her shoulder, said something soothing, and the disorientation cleared. Libby blinked again, and managed a weak smile for the concerned women gathered around them. Today was May Day, time to party. She refused to go all weird and miss out on all the fun. She had no idea what had brought on the sudden fit, but she had no intention of letting it happen again. Maybe it had been Ed Feldshuh's flabby chest, because it couldn't have anything to do with the man he'd been fighting. She'd never even seen the other man before.

"What were we doing?" Libby wondered, then noticed Matilda. "Oh, yes, Henry." She took the girl by the hand. "Let's go on to the lists, shall we?"

Beyond where she stood the quarterstaff contests went on, but she didn't let her Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

attention be drawn back to the clack and thunk of clashing wood. It was only a few feet to where another group of men were practicing with padded wooden broadswords and shields. Sir Stephan, his sons, his squires, the castle guards and most of the local noblemen were here, leaving the archery and staff competitions to clergy, commoners and women.

Libby took shy Matilda by the hand and stepped determinedly up to the group of men gathered on the edge of the lists. Lady Sibelle gestured her sons over while Libby vowed she was going to have fun, even if she had to do it at the side of the matchmaking mother of a fifteen-year-old. She shared a smile with Lady Sibelle as Sir Stephan and his sons turned their way. Then her determination was shaken within moments, as Henry stepped up to them. He looked sly and mean, expressions that didn't set well on features that were so much like his sweet father's. Libby barely managed to keep from sneering as he snubbed Matilda and gave her an elaborate bow instead. Just looking at Henry made her want to kick him.

"Surely Isabeau is the fairest lady in this company," he said. "No doubt you will be declared Queen of the May."

Matilda moved back, trying to conceal herself behind Libby. Libby, in turn, took a step to the side. "Not I," she said to Henry. "I'm told there's a competition for the honor, and that Matilda is the finest lute player in Kent. I have no such accomplishments." Henry frowned while she continued to extol the virtues of his betrothed. "Matilda has a fine hand with a needle, as her lovely kirtle shows, and she fashioned the wreaths we're wearing in our hair."

"And you have hair like black silk," Henry said. Then he added nastily, "While Matilda has hair like mud."

"My hair is brown," she told him sternly. "No different than Matilda's. Be nice."

She glanced anxiously at the girl. Matilda was pale, but she wasn't crying. Not Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

yet.

"Be good, Henry," Sir Stephan warned.

Henry hadn't taken his hot gaze from Libby. She was very aware of the crowd gathered around them even though he didn't seem to be. The whole courtyard had grown silent, even the clacking of the quarterstaff competition was stilled.

"I care not that Matilda's hands are clever for household tasks. I look at your hands and think how they would feel touching me," he added as he grasped Libby by the wrist and forced a kiss on her palm.

Libby kicked him.

She probably hurt herself more than she did the nasty young man, for her shoes were soft and his shin wasn't. His expression became fierce with sudden anger.

His grip still tightened painfully around her wrist while he raised his other hand to strike her. Libby gasped as she tried to pull away.

"Henry!" Sir Stephan shouted.

"Hold!" the sheriff called.

The butt of a quarterstaff smacked solidly into the center of the young man's forehead before either of the men could come to the rescue.

As Henry's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell slowly to the ground, a small cheer went up from the watching group. Neither Stephan or Sibelle looked displeased at their son's being knocked unconscious. And Matilda, subdued, docile Matilda, actually gave a quiet giggle before settling dutifully on her knees to see to her almost-lord's injuries.

When Libby turned to thank her rescuer she found herself face to face with the man she'd last seen fighting Ed Feldshuh. He was leaning on the staff he used so well, gazing about him as though he owned the castle and everyone else's Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

presence was a mere inconvenience. His eyes, Libby noted irrelevantly, were green. He was long-limbed and lean-muscled, with an angular face and heavy brows, his beaked nose and sharp cheekbones giving him the appearance of a hunting hawk. He was dressed in softly clinging deerskin braccos. He wore a knife on his belt and wide leather wrist cuffs to strengthen and protect his forearms when using the quarterstaff. Plainly, he was not a knight. Equally plainly, he was the most dangerous man at Passfair.