Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (9 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

The Scots weren’t finished yet.

Stephen had never doubted that
and was therefore not surprised when he mobilized about two hundred men from
the castle to attack a section of the city that was experiencing a weak
resurgence of rebellion.  He and de Lara rode to the northwest section of
Berwick’s walled city to quell a group of about one hundred Scots who were
attempting to retake the city section by section.  Although it was not a
particularly brutal battle, it was long and frustrating and went on well into
the night.  By the time they were finished, they had killed about thirty Scots
and lost eleven men.

Stephen assigned extra men to
protect that area of the city at night, before returning to Berwick. It was
well after sunset and the castle blazed with the ghostly glow from hundreds of
torches.  The great hall was lit up, light from inside the room streaming out
through the lancet windows.  Exhausted, Stephen and Tate dismounted their
chargers, turned the beasts over to the grooms, and headed for the hall.

“I shall check that portion of
the city again after dawn,” Stephen told Tate.  “From what those rebels told
us, there are more of them than we know still in the city.”

De Lara nodded wearily. “I would
imagine it is nothing tremendously organized. There are die hard rebels in any
conquered people.”

“Aye, but it will only take one
or two strong men to organize them and then we will have to worry about the
Scots retaking the city,” he shook his head. “At least we have brought the
suspected leader back with us and I fully intend to bleed the man dry of any
information he might have. But I am nonetheless thinking of asking the king for
more reinforcements to flush the rebels from the city altogether.”

“You already have almost one
thousand men.”

“Indeed I do, but we had over
eight thousand just two days ago.  Most of the English commanders have already
left and headed for home.”

“True enough,” de Lara rubbed his
eyes. “I can send for another five hundred from Carlisle. Henry of Lancaster
can send another five hundred. Perhaps you should ask Norfolk to leave a
detachment; he is leaving on the morrow, you know.”

“I know. I have already asked him
to leave me as many as he believes he can spare.”

They had reached the hall. 
Stephen opened the door and was hit in the face by the warm, fragrant air
inside.  It smelled like rushes and roasted meat, and he felt his hunger
immediately.   Stepping inside, it was a bright and busy world.

The first sight that greeted him
was Joselyn, heading towards him from the east side of the room.  She was
dressed in the cranberry wool, her luscious figure emphasized by the cut of the
garment.  Her dark hair was pulled away from her face and the pale blue eyes
were brilliant.  Stephen watched her with appreciation as she smiled and
curtsied politely.

“Welcome home, my lord,” she
said, glancing to de Lara and bobbing another curtsy. “Lord de Lara.”

Tate acknowledged the lovely
woman, grinning at Stephen when the man turned to look at him as if to reaffirm
the fact that he had married a truly beautiful lady. Removing his helm, de Lara
scratched his head and, still grinning, moved off towards the dais where a huge
table of food was spread out.  

Stephen didn’t notice that Tate
had left; he was entirely focused on his wife.  She looked absolutely radiant,
a far cry from the cold and dirty creature he had met last night. Sleep, new
clothing and an improving relationship with her new husband had worked wonders.
He could hardly believe it was the same woman.

Joselyn gazed up at him, feeling
the intensity of his stare as if he had reached out and grabbed her.  Her
cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink.

“I hope the meal pleases you,”
she said, sweeping her arm in the direction of the table. “There were virtually
no provisions left at the castle and we only had what your men brought in since
yesterday.”

Stephen knew that the city of
Berwick, including the castle, had basically been starved out during the siege
but he made no reference to it. He didn’t want to dampen the mood and there was
no point in reiterating what they both knew.  So he took her gently by the
elbow and escorted her to the heavily-laden table.

“The fare looks quite generous,
my lady,” he reassured her.

In fact, he was quite surprised
to see all of the food; there were dishes everywhere, things he didn’t even
recognize. But he remembered that during that unpleasant encounter last night
she had told him that the nuns of Jedburgh had taught her the art of cooking.
He had no idea what she meant until this moment.  He gestured at the table,
somewhat in awe.

“Good Christ,” he couldn’t help
the soft exclamation. “Did you do all of this?”

She nodded, somewhat modestly. 
“Your men brought flour, salt, bags of dried currants and apricots, wine, a few
jars of honey, bags of nuts, and slabs of mutton and pork.  I did what I could
with it.”

He looked at her, stunned.
“Surely you had help.”

She shrugged, reaching down for a
wooden plate filled with something gooey and sweet-looking. “There were two
women that aided me. Berwick has no cook, so the servants take turns.” She
lifted the plate. “These are sweetcakes with apricots, nuts and honey. Would
you try one?”

He just stared at her.  Then, he
reached for one of the pastries, realized he had his mail gloves on and paused
to rip them both off, tossing them to the bench.  He then took one of the
pastries and put the entire thing in his mouth.  Joselyn watched with
trepidation as he chewed a couple of times, stopped, and then resumed at a
slower pace. 

“Is… is it not to your liking?”
she asked timidly.

Stephen chewed a few more times
before swallowing.  He licked his lips and looked at her. “Lady, that was by
far the most marvelous thing I have ever eaten and if you let anyone else have
one, I shall be sorely disappointed. I would have them all for myself.”

She grinned brightly and he
returned her smile, adding a bold wink with it.  In truth, the little cake had
been luscious.  He gestured at the rest of the table. “What else do we have
that is decadent and wonderful?”

Everything was.  She had cooked
the pork in honey, the mutton in rich gravy, and had a variety of completely
fattening breads about the table.  The only vegetable they had were carrots,
which she had boiled in honey and cloves, the only manner of spice that they
had.   They were exquisite. Stephen sat down next to his wife and ate until he
could hardly move.  Even then, there was still more food on the table and he
continued to try everything put before him.  As the night wore on and de Lara
joined them, Stephen was so gorged that he was sure he would become ill. 

Tate was no better off; he, too,
had eaten himself sick and he finally excused himself as the hour grew very
late.  As Stephen licked his fingers of the last of the apricot pastries, he
watched de Lara wander off to sleep off his overindulgence.  Joselyn sat next
to her husband, her trencher licked clean of the pork she had stuffed herself
with.   When Stephen glanced at her, he caught her staring at him and he
smiled.

“Lady, if I had not already
married you, I would have married you this instant based on the skill of that
meal alone,” he said, watching her blush furiously. “Do you mean to tell me
that the nuns at Jedburgh taught you to cook like this?”

She shrugged modestly. “My tasks
were mostly kitchen-related. One of the nuns was from Paris and she was a
wonderful cook. I learned a great deal from her.”

“No doubt,” he replied sincerely.
“But tonight was a feast fit for a king and I did not, in fact, see Edward at
all this eve.”

“He was here earlier,” she told
him. “I heard him tell some of his men that he would be leaving on the morrow.”

Stephen scratched his black head
wearily. “I see,” he muttered. “Then I must seek the man before he leaves.”

Joselyn watched him shove a last
pastry into his mouth, hardly able to swallow it because he was so full.  She
laughed softly at him.

“This will not be the last
opportunity for you to eat pastries, my lord,” she told him. “I will make more,
I promise.”

He grinned at her, burped loudly,
and then rose to his considerable height. “See that you do,” he commanded, but
it was lightly done. “My lady, your culinary skill is beyond compare. I have
never in my life had such a fine meal and I thank you deeply.  I cannot help
wonder if this was meant for a special occasion.”

She stood up next to him, so
petite against his considerable height that she only came to his diaphragm
area.  Her smile faded as she groped for words.

“I suppose it is a special
occasion,” she ventured. “I wanted to show my gratitude for what you have done
for me and for my mother.” Her smile vanished as she looked up at him. “I said
terrible things to you last night, my lord. I called you heartless and cold,
and clearly that is not the case. What you did for my mother, and for me, goes
beyond what I believed you capable of.  I am very sorry that I said such horrid
things. I hope that someday you will forgive the tongue of a scared, exhausted
woman.”

His cornflower eyes grew warm and
a faint smile played on his lips. “There is no need to apologize,” he murmured.
“I know it was a difficult night and I further know that I did not make it
easier for you.  War dictates my behavior, lady. Last night, we were still at
war.  Today, we are not.”

She smiled gratefully. “You are
too forgiving,” she said. “But I thank you just the same. I hope this meal was
a worthy token of my gratitude for your kindness.”   

Stephen reached up and stroked her
tender cheek; he couldn’t help himself. “It is more than worthy,” he said
softly. “As are you.”

Joselyn flushed brilliantly and
he laughed softly. “You’re still unused to sweet words, are you?” he flirted
gently.

She shook her head vigorously and
he continued to laugh, taking her by the hand and gently pulling her away from
the table.   Together, they made their way towards the great hall entry door. 

“Well, you had better become used
to it,” he told her frankly. “I intend to speak a great many sweet words to you
in the days and years to come. Would you like to hear more?”

She was beside herself with
embarrassment, but it was of a good sort. She had never in her life known any
manner of flirting or interaction with a man, so her experience with such things
was nil. Her cheeks were hot and she put her free hand on her face, looking
away from him.

“I do not think I can,” she said,
muffled by her hand. “If my face grows any warmer I will go up in flame.”

He laughed loudly. “I have not
seen a woman go up in flame yet, no matter how flattering the words,” he gazed
up into the summer night sky, brilliant with stars. “Let me think; I suppose I
could tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but I
believe you already know that.”

She shook her head, hand still
against her face. “Nay, I do not.”

He bent over, peering down at her
and trying to look at her lowered face as they continued out into the darkened
courtyard. The night outside was cool and clear in sharp contrast to the sultry
day, bringing some relief from the cloying hall.

“You do not?” he repeated,
straightening. “A pity. Then I shall tell you, quite honestly, that your beauty
outshines that of any woman I have ever known.”

She peered up at him now that he was
not trying to look her in the eye. “How many women have you known?”

He looked down his nose at her.
“Only two or three.”

Now it was her turn to laugh at
him. “I would not believe that in the least.”

“You
would not?”

“Nay,”
she said firmly. “Sir Stephen, I am not sure if you realize this, but you are
an exceptionally handsome man. I cannot imagine that every woman you have ever
come across has not realized that, which leads me to believe that you have
known more than two or three woman in your life. You probably have armies of
them that follow you around, begging for a lock of your hair or a glimpse of
your smile. Am I wrong?”

He suddenly grabbed her and
pulled her tight against him, looking around frantically as if he was deeply
fearful.

“Dear God,” he breathed. “Now
that you know my secret, will you protect me from these ravenous females?”

She
laughed. “Not a chance. You must fend them off for yourself.”
He looked down at her as if she had just grievously insulted him. She would
have believed it, too, had she not seen the smile playing on his lips.

“You are my wife,” he reminded
her pointedly. “It is your duty to protect me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at them.
“Oh, very well, you coward,” she pulled away from him, hands on her hips as she
looked around the bailey. “Where are they? Well?”