How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (15 page)

“Or like this?” He dragged his finger all the way to her wetness. He drew little circles until the nub went hard.

A moan escaped her lips. “You know only too well.”

“You’ve cast a spell over me. I may never recover.”

“And you must be the Archangel Michael. Who else could bring me to heaven and back?”

He made a pleasant little beast growl. “Will you confess this to the priest in the morning?”

Her face warmed. “No. I think not. Tis no sin in making babies with one’s husband. Even if it is sinfully good.”

He stretched and his muscles flexed against her naked flesh. “As I predicted the day I married you, I think we’re well matched. In all seriousness. Promise me that you’ll consult me before giving any more coin away. Gold like that is unique. For some people, a treasure hunt becomes a sickness of the mind, and they will pursue it beyond food and life to get it.”

“I wouldn’t have needed to, except for Abernathy, and now I don’t need his protection. I have you.”

“Aye, come here wife, and I’ll have you again.”

Chapter 13

Ann rose off the bed a bit disoriented. The room was filled with an eerie morning fog and visions of lovemaking flashed before her. Mayhap she should not rouse her sweet beast? Silently, she donned a long chemise and gray tunic, while a mist swirled around her and men sang rowdy songs from afar. Why was she in a tavern?

A nasty flavor burped up from her insides and her stomach rolled. Her monthlies were late. Best to think on something else, like how to improve her monies with the dye vat. She was so far behind, what with getting married and all.

But I’m sure I can get the colors right.
She sat down in a field filled with blue cornflowers in full bloom.
All I have to do is gather them and boil them.
Then, oh then, she’d have blue wool of the most expensive color. The vat appeared before her, bubbling under a hot flame and she gave the wool a stir with a stick. Which young man would she send next to apprentice in London? So much to be done before fair time.

Her eyes opened wide and the pleasant scene in front of her changed into a nightmare.

What is real?

Heart pounding, she froze.
Dear God, no.
She had dream-walked deep into the heart of hell.

She put a bare toe back a step, retreating up the stairs, and fixed her gaze down to her own great hall. Many of the bishop’s men were unconscious in their own vile juices, but the ones who were not, stared back up with way too much interest.

She willed her legs to fly to the safety of her room, but even drunk, the bishop was fast and she still groggy. He dashed up the stairs and grabbed her bare foot.

“Where are you going, Lady Ann, and in such attire?” He dragged her down to his level on the landing.

“Excuse me, Your Excellency. I was going to see about some breakfast and issues in the town.” She twisted, but his vise-like grip held fast.

“Issues? What kind of lady has issues in the town?”  His mouth went wide with a sneer, his fingers dug into her skin, and he brought his face so close that his nose touched hers. The vile smell of vomit assaulted her nostrils.

“One who finds it necessary to labor.” Would she faint or retch or both? Neither, she decided. Not until she knocked him down the stairs.

He swayed a little in his drunken stupor. “Labor? Certainly you’ve servants for that?”

“Yes, of course. A lady like myself needs not worry about such things.”

At the foot of the stairs, Thomas had begun to make his way toward her. He nodded, but from the way men crowded about, it was plain he needed more time.

The bishop’s eyes narrowed, looking more like a pig, than not. “But you were about to, were you not? Maybe you were going to search for hidden coins?”

Again with the gold?
“No, I was going to look for flowers.”

His face grew redder; both thumbs buried into her shoulder and he shook her. “Is that where you’ve hidden the gold coins, in the flowers? Tell me girl.”

“No, that is where the flowers are hidden.” She gave the idiot an innocent flutter of her eyelashes.

Thomas moved closer and several more of Marcus’ knights joined with him, but more of the bishop’s men had moved in to guard the foot of the stairs.

“Are you getting fresh with me, child?” He pulled her close to his body. He reeked of days of non-bathing and his clothes smelled of bad ale, old food, and upchuck. A flea jumped off his tunic and onto hers.”

“Uck. Please, sir, Your Holiness, let me go.” She pushed against his fat chest.

“Mayhap just a small kiss for the sake of God. Then I’ll have your marriage annulled and you can come and join my nunnery? We always have room for more ladies, such as you.” The smelly pig wrapped his arms around her and grabbed at her breasts.

“Marcus!”

She squirmed, but the man’s fat girth made it impossible to move and his foul mouth covered hers. His tongue thrust down her throat and she gagged. When she came up gasping for breath, he turned her and pushed her head forcefully to the staircase and held her there by the neck.

Shouts ensued and steel met steel. Men grunted and Thomas’ shrill whistle pierced atop it all.

Too late.

Her tunic went high and cold air greeted her naked behind. From under her shoulder she could see the pig tuck his tunic up. He was unclothed from the waist down, his male scepter swollen and pointing. She screamed, but her mouth was pressed to the stone stairs, muffling her cry.

“Quiet, witch.” He slapped her bare ass so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.

Never. Never again, she thought. I’ll slice his balls off, first. She reached for the knife on her left forearm.
Oh God, no
. All her knives still lay on the floor, next to her pallet.

Marcus heard her scream and turned to an empty divot in his pallet. With his heart beating wildly, he grabbed his sword, and jumped over the top of the staircase to the main landing in one bound. In a glance, he surmised the chain of events leading up to this moment.

His sword slipped under the balls of the shocked bishop who was about to enter his wife from behind. “What kind of vow of chastity did you take? Speak plainly so all can hear. Mayhap I can help lead you from temptation. Permanently.”

The room went deathly quiet and swords dropped to the floor. The few of the bishop’s men, who had not been knocked unconscious by Thomas, crowded about the foot of the staircase in confusion.

Ann quickly pushed her tunic down over her behind, ran back up the stairs, down the hall, and bolted the door.
Safe.

“Aaarrrgghh!” Marcus stared down the assembly, naked as the day he was born, with his sword arm aching to lift and unman the bishop. The knife poised in his other hand waited to be thrown at anyone who dared move or even blink. In another lifetime, another place, he would have gladly gutted them all. Splayed them in half, by God. His men, too, would suffer for this insult.
How the hell had they let their guard down so?

He pushed his sword closer to the Bishop’s now-shrunken pintle, tearing skin. “You would sin in my home? With my lady? My wife? Answer quickly as I’m not well known for my patience
, Your Excellency
.” He spit out the word with such disdain that he knew all below waited for a river of dark red to flow.

Thomas, the first to move, avoided his gaze and directed the bishops’ entourage out of the great hall, dragging the unconscious as they went. From above, Marcus waited, contemplating just how to unman the pig. Outside in the courtyard, restless horses nickered and men mounted.

“Go home and thank God you still have breath in you. Never before has any man seen The Beast in full temper and lived to tell the tale,” Thomas said.

The bishop, sweating profusely, began the rite of excommunication.

Slowly, Marcus lifted his sword and drew a tiny line of blood from between his legs. “It won’t count if thou art dead.”

He hissed. “How dare you?”

“No. How dare you? How dare you invade my house in the name of God, and try to take my lady on my own stairway?” He shouted to no one in particular, “Take him out of my presence and into the dungeon, before I slice the pig in half and place him on a skewer to roast out front on the great lawn. I’ll display his head atop a pole for all to see.”

Stephen, his eyes and nose red from either drink or lack of sleep, stepped forward. “M . . . M . . . M’Lord, we have no dungeon.”

“Oh, for all that is holy. Then it’s decided. I’ll have to remove his balls right here, like a sheep. Then, Dame March can roast them, and we’ll all feast.” He raised his sword a mite more and the bishop fainted.

“Marcus!” Brother James stood in the front door. He wore no cross, no belt, and straw from his pallet stuck to his hair.

“Oh, Hello. You’ve decided to join us for bishop-balls?”

“Christ our Savior. Stay your hand. Think of the repercussions from Edward. What will become of your wife? I’ve rooms for men in the abbey and they lock with, but one key. You can put him there.”

He considered that request, frowned, and kicked the bishop so fiercely that his round body rolled down the staircase. “Take him wherever you like. And while you’re at it, take his last confession.”

Waving two of Marcus’ knights inside, James hurried them all across the room. “I think that can be accomplished.”

“But not before we give the man plenty of time to reflect in solitude.” Marcus glanced down at his nakedness and gave a grim half-smile. “And after I’ve time to get dressed.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” James squatted beside the unconscious bishop, put an ear to his mouth, and raised his eyes to the heavens, no doubt thankful the pig had not yet met the devil.

Marcus cleared his throat, then stood silent until he caught the gaze of each who had been brave enough to remain in the great hall. He memorized their names for later. “Now, where’s that other grunt, Abernathy?”

“He left with the bishop’s men.” James eyed him warily.

“Damnation. I wanted to set him straight, too.” He frowned, let his sword arm down, but continued to clutch his fingers around the hilt. The sun poked through the arch in the doorway and he considered how he would meet day’s end. A righteous beheading or peace?

James and the two knights dragged the moaning bishop off to the abbey. Meanwhile, the remaining men slowly backed out of the great room, leaving Marcus standing alone, naked, and pondering. When she’d screamed, it had pierced him worse than any arrow. Was that what others referred to as fear? Midway between floors, he stayed, sword in hand, until Thomas reentered the manor, bowed silently, as he seldom did, and waited.

Marcus glowered for the longest time, then said, “Gather up everyone. My staff, my guard, and maidens all. Clean up this unholy mess. Grab buckets of water from the bath to wash down my floor. No new thatch. Just tiles and tables that shine. When that is done, gather all, and wait for me. I demand an explanation on how it came to be that my manor was left unguarded while I slept.” He turned and stomped up the stairs.

Ann shivered in her room from under her furs. She’d almost been raped in her own hall. No one, other than her husband, had been able to stop it. She was a lady, for the love of God, not a tavern wench.
How have my fates fallen so low
?
Even married, I am subjected to the whims of men.

She scrambled over to her knives left on the floor near the pallet. Despite shaking hands, she put them in their sheaths and tethered them to her inner thigh and upper arm, vowing never to leave them off again, especially whilst asleep.

When Marcus pounded his fist on the door, she slid back the bolt. Before she could open it fully, he pushed in and began to shout. “I told you to stay away from those men and stay in the room until they departed. What the devil is wrong with you? Do you find some perverted amusement in this . . . this chaos that follows in your destructive path?”

She’d never seen The Beast so angry. His face was poppy-red, small blood pipes pulsed, and every muscle in his magnificent naked body strained, bow-string taut.

She sat down on the pallet, put her knees to her chest, and held tight. How could she explain that she’d dream-walked? Surely, he’d think her possessed and hang her. “I was distracted.”

“So distracted you forgot everything Thomas told you about the bishop?”

He took her chin with his finger and thumb, directing her face upward until their noses all, but touched. “Look at me while I talk sense into you. He was about to take you on the staircase in front of all his men and mine. I should shackle you to the bedpost and gift you with a chastity belt from now until the end of your miserable life, which, if you continue as you have, will be short indeed.”

She let out a small cry, met his unblinking gaze, and dared a defiant glare. “I could’ve protected myself, but my knives were here, where you removed them from me.”

The Beast let go and prowled back and forth across the room like a boar in a pit. “Christ’s blood, you go too far. Are you part harlot? Who else would wander into a room of drunken warriors?”

“Now
you
go too far.” How dare he? She’d proven her virtue time and time again.

He pounded the hilt of his sword on her dresser and it split with a resounding crack. “Damnation. Don’t try to change the course of this battle. It’s
my
siege and I’m not nearly done. Tell me. Why did you venture downstairs?”

“You can’t possibly understand. There is no safe place for me. Today only proves what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“Understand?” He waved his sword in the air, no doubt finally realized he was still holding it, and sheathed it. Clutching both hands behind his back, he approached her and leaned over. “Nay, wife. I understand nothing about you except your sharp tongue and your complete lack of common sense.”

She tried to shove his chest away, but it was like trying to move an ox. “I was doing fine by myself until a few weeks ago, when you forced yourself into my home.”

“I had permission from the king. You and your lands are mine. Best you begin to accept that.”

She cringed, waiting for a fist to hit her down, and his anger kindled more, a feat she’d thought impossible. Mayhap she should explain about how she walked while asleep. “Stay your temper, m’lord. I beg of you. I can explain—”

“You’ve not yet seen me in a temper with you, Lady, but you might this morning. You would try the patience of the holiest of men, which I assure you, I am not.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, stared with that practiced look, and waited. “Well?”

“I am possessed.”

“In that we are in agreement.”

“No. Truly m’lord. Whilst I sleep, a demon takes over my body.”

“Christ’s nails, you expect me to believe that?”

“Well, it’s true. Oft times I find myself in places other than on my pallet when I wake. What explanation can there be? Haven’t you noticed? That’s why Sally always slept nearby. We tied a string from toe to toe. She would wake me if I tried to get up and walk away.

“Your life hangs in the balance, every time you fall asleep? Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me?”