Candace C. Bowen - Knight Series 03 (13 page)

Standing beside Lecie stood their visiting friend, Bronwyn. Holding her infant son, she was dressed in a dark blue woolen kirtle and white chemise which complimented the striking gray color of her eyes. Wife to Euric, she wore her dark raven tresses braided into two thick plaits which were then coiled and pinned at the crown of her head. Clinging to her mother’s skirts was her shy young daughter, Brenna.

Reina’s gaze shifted to the justice. Having been introduced to the horrid man at court, she was well acquainted with his character even before his interaction with Lecie. Her brilliant blue eyes narrowed when Fulke re-introduced them.

“Justice de Glanville, I believe you have previously met my lovely baroness.” Fulke then gestured to Lecie. “You may also recall Sir Albin’s wife from one of your more memorable visits to Rochester.”

“The justice and I are well acquainted, your lordship.” Clasping her hands defensively over her swollen belly, Lecie’s golden eyes would have slain the justice where he stood had they the power to do so.

“Right you are.” Fulke smirked. “I do not believe you have met Lady Bronwyn of Cornwall, lord justice. She is a skilled healer who has come from the Cornish coast to lend Lecie assist when she delivers her babe.”

The justice eyed Bronwyn more closely. “Some liken healers to wicces.”

“Do not let the king’s physician hear you say such a thing,” Fulke said, quickly directing the justice’s attention to the two adolescent girls and young boy standing quietly beside the table. “Here we have Lecie’s younger siblings; Osana, Sabina, and Clayton. It was Master Clayton’s pet mastiff who welcomed you so warmly at the door.”

“Prior to presenting me to the hounds, Baron Erlegh, perhaps we can dine.”

Chapter Eleven

Mylla sat beside the window absently braiding her hair. Her gaze fixed on the bustling crowds returning from the fields, she searched for Talan’s tall imposing figure. A wench from the tavern below had delivered a bread bowl filled with mutton stew shortly after sext. With the hour approaching vespers, she began to worry.

Dressed in an ivory brocade kirtle and matching chemise, she stood to bind the end of her braid. Tidying the wool coverlet on the bed, she whirled to the door when it opened.

His arms full of parcels, Talan set them down before greeting her with a tender smile. “If it is possible, you grow more beautiful every time I see you.”

Rushing into his arms, she smiled up at him. “You were gone so long, I was beginning to fret.”

“Forgive me for causing you worry,” Talan said holding her close. “I was blessed to come across an old acquaintance and we were catching up.”

“You ran into someone you know?” Mylla looked worried. “Here?”  

“There is naught to fear. He can be trusted.” Bending to give her a chaste kiss it turned into something much more.

Mylla’s hands lifted the hem of his plain woolen tunic to untie the stays of his breeches. Slipping her hands into his braies she began to stroke him.

“You have a way of making me forget myself.” Talan lifted her up against his chest until her feet cleared the floor. Carrying her to the bed, he followed her down upon it. One hand snaked up her back to the nape of her neck, while the other slid around to caress her full breast. 

Straining against his questing hand, Mylla hiked up her skirts. 

The bells tolling the hour of vespers had Talan reluctantly pulling away from her. Out of breath, he rested his forehead lightly against Mylla’s. “I do not believe I have the will to stop.”

“Then do not.” Pulling him back, her eyes pleaded with him.

Lightly resisting, he eased further away from her. “I shall make it up to you later. We must go now.”

Jolted from the passion-filled moment, Mylla scrambled to sit up. “Where is it we are going?”

“I would like you to meet my friend.” Talan stripped off his tunic and linen chainse. “I have need of a bathe to make myself presentable.”

Distracted by his nakedness, Mylla reached for him. “Talan, I do not—”

“I will be close by and you will be fine.” Gently clasping her hands, Talan brought them to his lips. “Trust me.”

Mylla’s face fell. “I do trust you, but why must I meet your friend without you?”

“Because I cannot resist you, and he now awaits us below.” Still flushed, Mylla allowed him to usher her toward the door. “Look for the priest, mon coeur. I shall join you both directly.”

Once in the passage, Mylla turned to question him further only to watch the door close with a soft click.

Absently smoothing her hair into place, she entered the inn’s crowded common room.

Father Godfrey stood from a table beside the front door when he spotted her. Wearing his familiar brown alb, he beckoned her over with a welcoming smile. “You must of course be, Mylla. Talan was not exaggerating, you are quite lovely.”

“I am.” Mylla dipped her head. “I mean to say, I am Mylla, and thank you, Father.”

“No need to look so anxious, my child.” Holding out a seat for her, Father Godfrey resumed his own. “You are in the company of a friend.”

“Sir Talan very recently informed me you were an old acquaintance of his,” Mylla said.

“Indeed. I am well acquainted with Talan.” Father Godfrey pointedly looked at the diners surrounding them.

“Forgive me, Father.” Mylla lowered her voice. “I fear it will take me some time to grow accustomed to the change in our circumstances.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” He gently patted her clasped hands. “I am aggrieved you presently find yourselves in such a difficult situation.”

“Talan has confessed our troubles to you?”

“He has indeed.” Father Godfrey sat back in his seat when a serving wench approached. “Can I tempt you in a cup of honeyed mead, my dear?”

“Perhaps I should wait for Talan to join us.” Mylla glanced behind her. 

“Young Talan would not take offense to your sharing a libation with me.” Placing the order for a cup of mead, Father Godfrey ordered a refill of ale for himself. After the wench left them, he steepled his plump fingers to study Mylla. “Talan has requested something of me. I informed him that I would need to speak with you prior to giving my consent.”

Leaning closer to the priest, Mylla whispered, “He has requested that you wed us?”

“He has indeed,” Father Godfrey said. “Is marriage to Talan something you would wish for yourself?”

“More than anything, only...” Mylla straightened in her seat when the tavern wench returned with their order.

Placing a coin on the wench’s tray, the priest waited for her to move off. “You were saying?”

“Father, the man I am betrothed to is powerful,” she said taking a sip of mead. “I dread what he may do to you were you kind enough to perform the ceremony.”

“Fear not on my account, my child. If something were to happen to me, it would be God’s will, not the justice’s.”

“So you will wed us?”

“Aye, I will gladly unite you both in holy matrimony.” Father Godfrey spotted Talan weaving through the tables to join them. “Would you like to share the happy tidings with your betrothed?”

Talan only had eyes for Mylla. Freshly bathed, his hair was slicked back from a recent washing. Dressed all in black the only thing missing was his familiar surcoat.

“Father Godfrey will marry us.” Her relief evident, Mylla reached for Talan’s hand when he took the empty seat beside her.

“A mere thank you does not seem enough, Father.” Talan turned solemn eyes on the priest. 

“I have already told you it is more than enough, my son.” Taking a swallow of ale, Father Godfrey nodded approvingly. “Seeing young love in these difficult times does my old heart good. When would you like the ceremony to take place?”

“Would after you finished your drink be too soon?” Talan asked. “We have plans to depart Reading with the sunrise.”

“Owing to the circumstances, I suppose it to be for the best,” Father Godfrey said. “We should have the temporary chapel to ourselves at this hour of night so we shall encounter no problem if your desire is to be wed in the church.”

“I would wed Talan in a sty,” Mylla said, “yet I know my mother would prefer the ceremony to be performed in a place of worship.”

“Then our timing could not be better.” Talan stood and held his hand out to Mylla. “I ask for but a brief moment to speak with Mylla in private, Father. With your permission, we shall await you by the chapel.”

“Take all the time you need.” Father Godfrey held up his cup. “I shall join you both after I have finished my libation.”

It was misting when Talan escorted Mylla from the inn. Night had descended and few people were on the road. Keeping close to the buildings for what little shelter they could provide, the couple made their way to a crude structure alongside.

Leading her into the rush-lit chapel, Talan bent on one knee beside the altar. “Up until this point we have done things in a roundabout fashion.” He reached for her hand. “Mylla, I shall love and cherish you for all the days of my life. I shall lay down my life in defense of you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Nothing would please me more, Talan.” Caressing his cheek, Mylla smiled.

Talan reached into a pocket sewn into his bliaud to withdraw a simple worn wedding band of hammered silver. “I could purchase you a finer one if you would like. This one is old. It belonged to my mother, and is the only thing I have left to remind me of her.”

“Then it is a priceless treasure and I shall wear it as such.”

“I love you.” Rising, Talan gathered her in his arms for a kiss.

“We have yet to come to that part, my children,” Father Godfrey called from the entrance.

Breaking the kiss, Talan and Mylla chuckled in unison.

“Let us see the matter done, shall we?” Taking his place at the altar, Father Godfrey turned to face them. 

Before he could begin the ceremony the chapel’s door swung open to admit a solitary figure. Concealed by the darkness beyond the flickering torches, he strode forward with purpose.

“Edmund,” Mylla breathed the moment she recognized her eldest brother. Torn between fear at what he would do and happiness to see him again, she stood unmoving beside Talan.

Instantly on guard, Talan shoved Mylla behind him to whisk his sword from its scabbard. “How did you find us?”

“I bribed a tavern wench at the inn.” Edmund approached the altar with raised hands “She imparted that a man and woman fitting your descriptions very recently shared a drink with the good priest here. I followed him to ask after you.”

“How did you track us to Reading?”

“That is a longer story.”

“With or without your blessing, Mylla and I will be wed.”

“I have already figured that out for myself.” Edmund stopped when Talan pointed his sword toward him.

“Have you brought the justice with you?”

“If he were in Reading, do you think it would be me standing here in his stead?”

“I have had enough of this useless parrying.” Talan moved forward to lead Edmund away from Mylla. “What are your intentions?”

“Apparently, I have arrived in time to stand witness to your marriage to my sister,” Edmund said. “The rest of my intentions can wait until after the ceremony.”

Stunned by Edmund’s response, Talan slowly lowered his sword.

“I do not understand.” Mylla stepped around Talan to face her brother. “You do not intend to put a halt to the wedding?”

“Nay, dear sister, I do not.” Stepping up beside Talan, Edmund solemnly bowed his head. “We have no time to lose, Father. Please continue.”

†

Warin, Osbert, Guy, and Gervase joined the children to sit with Reina, who was holding Raine, Lecie, and Bronwyn who was holding her son. Their food largely untouched, the silent group kept casting surreptitious glances at the justice seated at the table opposite.

Fulke sat across from the justice, who was joined by Albin, Euric, Caine, Frederick, and Leofrick. The diners were unusually quiet waiting for the justice’s next move. Even the hounds who freely roamed the hall sensed something amiss. Keeping well away from the diners, they eyed the food laden tables with longing. Only Tugger was brave enough to occasionally beg for a morsel from his young master. 

Stuffing himself with roasted fowl and braised parsnips, the justice would pause only long enough to drink some ale. Tearing a chunk out of a roll with his overlapping front teeth, he spoke around a mouthful. “Our good king has blessed you with fertile soil, Baron Erlegh. The fare you offer is better than most.” 

Fulke refilled the justice’s cup. “I have indeed been blessed by our good king.”

In turn, the justice took a long swallow of the brew. With a loud belch, he returned to his meal.

“My wife is responsible for the ale you are quaffing, lord justice,” Albin said from his place beside Fulke. “I am pleased to see you are enjoying it.”

“Indeed I am.” The justice slid his dark gaze to the next table. “Your alewife is quite skilled in brew making. I suppose it is fortunate that I failed to ring her pretty little neck.”

“She is my wife, and thus a lady.” Albin sprung to his feet. “You—”

“You have my thanks on that account, lord justice,” Fulke said. “Castell Maen would not be the same without Lady Lecie and her younger siblings. Even Tugger has become a most welcome addition to my family.” In unspoken terms, everyone present was under Fulke’s protection. They were therefore off limits lest the justice risk incurring the king’s wrath. 

Still seething, Albin reluctantly resumed his seat to glower in silence.

Buying Fulke’s bluff the justice accepted the veiled threat with a jerk of his head. “How I look forward to having a long discussion with my dearest friend the king. Mayhap then your position in his affections will be clarified once and for all.”

“Perhaps you are right.” Raising his cup, Fulke casually took a long swallow of ale.

“Send the women away,” Justice de Glanville said after he had eaten his fill. “We need to speak.”

“I do not keep anything from my wife,” Fulke said. “I am assured Albin and Euric will state the same about their wives.”

“Consider it stated,” Albin muttered.

“Aye,” Euric said from his place beside Albin, “Bronwyn is my equal in all things. We keep no secrets from each other.”

“I see the court gossip has some truth behind it.” The justice’s upper lip curled in disgust. “Not only are you overly attached to your lady’s skirts, you surround yourself with men of the same ilk.”

“I do so proudly.” Clasping his hands, Fulke rested them on the table. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Where is your thieving knight? If he is not here, I know he must have sent word to you.”

“If I had any knowledge of Talan’s whereabouts, I would have informed you prior to your men beginning a futile search of my castle.”