How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (19 page)

The dagger slid up slowly toward an eye. “Move or be blinded. It makes no matter to me. I’ll take one out at a time. I’m no longer a helpless boy, nor my wife the victim of your sick machinations.”

His father glared at the point, stood, and moved sullenly toward the door. Outside, the villagers had gathered in the green by the yellow light of dawn. They no doubt wished to witness the battle that was about to ensue between father and son.

Marcus pushed him onto his knees in the square, while all stood with eyes and mouths wide. “Strip him of his tunic.”

“Really?” Bart’s voice shook and the villagers drew closer with concerned murmurs.

Marcus nodded.

The boy pulled off tunic and mail, leaving his father in undergarments. The earl’s knights protested loudly, but none dared tempt the arrows still pointing down into the square.

Thomas put his hand out. “Maybe this is not—”

“Quiet. Before we start, I need to speak with Brother James.”

Brother John moved forward. “He’s guarding the women. Give yourself a moment to calm the beast within. God won’t be pleased if you continue in this manner.”

“I shall find peace with Him later. Right now, I’m out of His pleasure. Mayhap you could go get my wife before I question my father on matters of import?”

“Is this really something you would want the lady to see?” John stared down at the almost-naked earl.

“It’s exactly what I’d have her see. She’s well acquainted with a good flogging. Fetch her at once. Then, we have more important things to attend to.”

Tension mounted while they waited. Mayhap it was a sin to enjoy this moment so much, but his father was responsible for an abundance of wickedness. There should be some justice met.

Ann arrived in her new yellow frock and paled to the same color when she saw what was under way. “Do you know what you—”

“Fetch the whip in the great room.” He almost changed his mind when her green eyes widened with fear.

“No, I won’t. It’s not there any longer.” Her lower lip quivered.

“Find it.”

Her eyes showed hurt when she looked up at him, but there was no undoing what he’d started. When she came back out and held out the lash, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Look at me.”

She did as she was told, knelt at his feet, and curled into a little ball. “I’m ready.”

“Damnation, woman. What ails you? Stand here beside me, as my wife and life partner.” He pulled her by her upper arm. “This is not for you.”

“Ow. You’re hurting me.” She swatted at him.

Mayhap, considered Marcus, he was a mite out of control. He was never at his best when dealing with his sire’s sadistic nature. He turned to his father. “Tell us all about Underhill. Loud enough so all can hear.”

“He was a fine man—a knight and gentleman.” With a toss of his head toward Ann, his father sneered. “She should’ve been proud to accept him.”

“So, you were the one that arranged the marriage?” Marcus held his breath.

His father furled his thick brows, pursed his lips, and his red mustache twitched.

“Speak the truth of it, I warn you.” Marcus played with the blade, holding it dangerously close to his father’s face.

He glowered and spit onto the ground. “She needed a master, and he needed heirs. It was a good match sanctioned by the king.”

Marcus’ ears throbbed from the heat of his anger. He could not kill the bastard who’d tortured his wife, but this man was ultimately responsible. He lowered his voice. “Heed your next words carefully. Did you tell him to beat her?”

“Nay. I did not.” He tried to stand, but Marcus put a firm hand upon his head.

“Did you tell him she had coins hidden?”

“I may have suggested that there were rumors of gold.” He shrugged.

That was no doubt a partial truth. “Did you offer him the same deal as the one you offered me? Bed her, beget heirs, find her gold, and hang her?”

“No, by God, he thought that plan up all by himself. I just suggested that he get to the bottom of the mystery and I’d share half with him. Stop this inquisition, now. You’ve no right—”

“Did you know how he treated his women?”

“None of my business, was it?” He squinted up, the sun hitting his lying face.

Marcus dared not blink, for fear of missing a sign of deceit. “Yea or nay?”

“Nay.” His father’s eyes flickered and it took no witch to know the truth. He knew of the knight’s evil nature, and still set him upon the young Ann.

Marcus’ jaw ached where he clenched his teeth, and his hand shook. He held back the urge to slice the knife across his father’s evil neck. How could anyone send a sadistic bastard to wed an innocent? “I should send you to hell.” His hand was still shaking when he passed the whip to her. “What would you do with that knowledge?”

She surprised him when she dropped the whip as if it were on fire. “This is not right. I’d not have anyone flogged for my sake. I’d have peace. I’d give up the gold, too, only there is no more. There were only three pieces. I made it sound as if there were more, in case I needed leniency with my debts. Please stop. Both of you. We can’t undo the past. Certainly not like this.”

Marcus paced. This wasn’t at all how he envisioned this morning coming to an end. He waited for her permission to kill the man responsible for her torment. “Well, what would you have me do instead?”

She thrust her hands across the air, as if she could move the whole lot of them to hell, him included, and stomped her foot. “I’d take them to the fair with us. This was supposed to be a fine day of enjoyment. You’ve ruined it. All of you.”

He frowned, then grinned. He could work with that. “So be it. You heard her. Take him. Thomas, leave five of our men here to guard the town. Our wagons shall now be guarded by my Father’s men. Let it be known. If harm befalls any of us on the way, he will be the first to die.

Marcus grinned at his wife. “That was a magnificent suggestion. He’ll attempt to cause trouble and I shall kill him righteously upon the road to London. Edward will have no reason to doubt my sincerest remorse.”

She pushed him away, her cheeks blotched with ire. “That’s not what I meant at all. Why did you do this? You’ve tarnished this day.”

He kissed her such that the town could see that all was well and waved them back to work. “Power is an odd vapor and must be vanquished like a demon.”

“The past is gone, a vapor, too. We can’t live there any more than we can live in the future. You’ve accomplished naught.”

His wife, however, gave him a fierce hug, which he accepted. Some of the pain from his past drained into the earth with her good will. He kissed the top of her head. “Surely, God has decided that I’m to be forgiven for my time in hell, and he’s given me you, a taste of heaven on earth.”

“Mayhap, but heaven will have to wait until later. We should be on our way.” She gazed into his eyes, put a palm to his cheek, and his life began anew. How did she do that with a simple look?

He turned to his men and shouted, “Ride on ahead to our wagons and wait with them. I believe my father’s guard and colors will be enough to dissuade even the bravest of thieves.”

Chapter 17

Nellie whinnied in annoyance while they waited for the men to push the wagon out of yet another muddy rut. Ann whispered soothing words into her ear, patted her neck, and twined mane between fingers. How would they ever arrive in London Towne with the roads so impassible?

Her husband’s fine body was on display with the rest who had doffed their mail and tunics in order to dislodge the stubborn wheels from a deep, wet hole. Secretly she smiled. His was the best form, by far. As if he knew she was watching, he looked up and gave her a half-grin. Their eyes met and her thoughts drifted to evenings and baby-making. She blushed and Marcus laughed out loud. With a grunt and one more shove, the wagon moved forward. The horses pranced and whinnied. They, too, must be anxious to move on.

She threw her husband a skin of water, which he snatched out of the air and shared with the others. He bent over to redress and don his frog and sword. At the sound of more horses on the road behind them, she swiveled with the rest of the entourage.

When he caught the pennant colors, he grinned that awful grin of his and Thomas followed suit. Ann swallowed hard and it stuck in her throat. How could anyone in their right mind oppose her husband with his group of ruthless men?

Using his overtly polite mannerisms, he said, “Abernathy. What a pleasant surprise. You ride with us to London?”

“I suppose.” He shifted in his saddle, bounced his gaze from Marcus, to the earl, and to all the mounted men in the party. “I . . . I’m not certain. Thornhill?”

The earl’s eyes said beware, darting back and forth under red bushy eyebrows. Abernathy, with a mind thicker than the mud underfoot, missed the subtlety.

Even the horses caught the tension, nickering with ears twitching. Marcus inched his fingers toward his sword. “My father’s constitution is somewhat put out by the long ride today. Forgive his manners. He’s only too happy to have you ride with us. He’s already advised me of your plans to steal our wagons, and has thought better of his evil ways. I’m sure he’d be most grateful should you ride ahead of us, peaceably.”

The old earl sputtered, then shouted, “No. Damnation, no. Kill him.”

Abernathy moved his hand toward his sword, but Ann had already reached into her sleeve. She stood in her stirrups and hurled her knife. Dead on, it caught the man’s palm. He howled, dropped his sword, and maneuvered his charger closer. His left hand grabbed at an axe.

Too slow to duck, she squeezed her eyes shut, and said a quick prayer for a merciful death.

Clank. Clunk. “Aaagh.”

A heavy chain with two balls wrapped around Abernathy’s chest as he lay face down on the ground. Swords unsheathed with the now too-familiar sound of steel against leather. Then Marcus snapped that horrible piece of rope and brought it to bear on his father’s back. The earl screamed and blood poured out of a rip in his cloak. Action halted.

“Tell the men to stand down or lie dead. I care not which.” He raised the whip again.

Squinting, the earl cursed, and pursed his lips. “Do as he says.”

“Any brilliant thoughts, Marcus?” Thomas eyed the rather substantial army of enemies.

“Promise them gold to see us safely to London.” He tossed out a heavy purse jangling with coin and sent Ann a nod meant to reassure.

It didn’t work. Her heart pounded. Surely, these men would find an opportunity to overtake them along the road. She dismounted to check on Abernathy’s prostrate form while the men bartered over price.

When she determined breath was still forthcoming, she turned to Sally. “Bring me my best needle.”

She pulled her knife from his hand, wiped the blood onto the grass, and sheathed her weapon back under her sleeve. As she tied the final knot, more horses pounded in the distance.
Now what?
She held her knife at readiness when over a dozen more armored knights rode into view.

“Sir Marcus and Sir Thomas.” The man in the lead, wearing a Templar cross, raised his visor and smiled.

Ann sighed. Templar colors meant friend, not foe.

“Julienne. Thank God.” Marcus relaxed back into the saddle.

“Or maybe you should just
thank me
.” His entourage joined in with laughter as if hearing the mightiest jest of the season.

“So,
mon petit
, thou art in trouble, no? Needing mayhap work from our finer swords, tiny man?” Julienne removed his helm and glanced around at the band of men.

“
Oui
. As usual, I must trust in your overwhelming and grandiose generosity.” Marcus nudged his mount toward him and they gripped forearms in an odd tug-of-war that almost pulled them both to the ground.

“Thou art English. ‘Tis why you excel so badly at warfare, and even more so at bringing a miserable set of wagons to fair.” Wrinkles appeared in the corners of the Templar’s eyes and he snorted out another laugh.

When the two men swung off their horses, they slapped each other on the back until they almost toppled. Marcus guffawed. “I’m pleased to see you. It’s been too long.”

“Obviously. You’ve forgotten everything I taught you, no?”

“Mayhap. But not everything.” Marcus winked. “Meet my wife, Lady Ann Blackwell.”

Julienne approached, perusing her from head to toe until her face burned. “
Mon Dieu
. She’s so
belle
, so
parfait
. Excuse me, my Lady, but how is it that someone such as you, would take a brute like Sir Marcus as a husband?” He reached over and kissed her hand.

“Nay a brute with me. He’s gentle and sweet.”

He laughed so heartily his eyes watered. “
A jeunne fille
with a mighty fine sense of humor and a dirk. Oh, Marcus. She is
tres magnifique
. Worthy of you, my friend, and now I find I’m envious and Julienne is never so. You must tell me everything that has happened since last we parted. Come now. You find a bit of bread and ale for your friends, no? We talk and we ride.
Allons-y
.”

After several hours of many tall tales and much amusement, Ann noticed how the sun dove into the land. When a grim gray wall on a hill loomed above the road, Marcus said, “We stop here.”

The landscape consisted of an open field, dotted with gray sheep and a few miserly gardens. Several huts made from mud and straw were bunched together near the wall’s gate, along with an open trench for waste. Rather a depressing place. She unclenched her teeth and shouted forth to her husband in the lead, “Where are we?”

“A monastery, just outside of London. Much safer than the inn. Ladies shall bed down inside and we’ll guard the wagons here.” He dismounted, then helped her off Nellie. She couldn’t help, but wrap her arms around him. The day had been long and trying and they hadn’t had a moment to themselves.

He kissed her and laid a heavy arm on her shoulder. “Take Sally with you, anon. They won’t open the door after dark and there’s not much time. Here. Take the token Brother James said to give to them.”

He handed her a small cross and his lips met hers again. His beard scratched her face and she longed to take the kiss deeper. She held his face to hers by locking her hands behind his head.

“I wish I could stay out here with you.” She longed for his softer side right now, having seen enough of the soldier for one day.

His eyes darted over the men for signs of trouble and his tone gentled, while still gruff. “I can’t guard you
and
our goods. Even if you worry not for yourself, think of Sally.”

“I know, but I want you beside me at night. Always.” She pulled him closer. He smelled of sweat, horse flesh, and something even better.

He whispered into her ear, “And I ache for you, love. I promise, when we lie together again, I’ll make it up to you. Now go. Don’t make a scene. Know I care deeply for your well-being.”

She nodded with a heavy heart and found Bart and Sally. Together, they trudged up the long hill to the gated entrance. One of the sisters answered Bart’s pounding on the door with a finger to her lips. He handed her the token.

When the holy woman motioned for Ann and Sally to follow, Bart turned and ran back to the men’s tents. The large gate closed with a creak and a huge log clanked into place. Judging from the size of the fortress and the thickness of the walls, demons from hell were oft expected.

The sister led them to an open room of pallets where women were already bedded down, snoring like wild hogs. She pointed to one empty pallet, hardly big enough for two. Sally and Ann looked at each other with unease.

Sally whispered, “I’ve got to let go water.”

The sister shushed.

Ann used her haughty tone that usually rendered results. “
La Seour
, we have bodily needs before we can sleep, even if you won’t feed us.”

The woman gave her a nasty look, nodded, then led them to a courtyard where they found a foul smelling barrel and left them to find their own way back. It was good Ann was so tired because otherwise, the whole situation would have irked her beyond reason. She could hear her husband and the knights laughing outside the walls, no doubt with a little drink, some food, and a hot fire.

Sally echoed her thoughts. “This is hardly just.”

Ann nodded her agreement as they wandered back to their sleeping quarters. She spread her cloak out onto the straw and they shared Sally’s as a blanket. ‘Twas good it was a warm evening for they’d hardly any cover.

She was downright surly when they were led out the next morning without the offering of food or water. She was sticky and dirty, and itched from God knows what biting insects lurked in the straw.

Bart met them at the gates and bowed slightly. “We’re packed up and ready for you.”

“Did you men sleep?”

He looked a little worse for wear and smelled of more than a bit of ale. Even so, he puffed out his chest with a broad smile. “Not a wink. We talked all night of battles and such. And today, I’m to squire for Julienne with his joust. We’re bound to win coin.”

His enthusiasm was catching and she brightened. It was, after all, the day of the fair. “Can you find us a bit of food? That was the stingiest monastery I’ve ever encountered.”

He laughed, handed her a sack, and helped her and Sally to mount. “I think Brother James must have warned Sir Marcus. There are leftover pies. We saved the best for you ladies.”

She handed one to Sally and devoured the other. Then she galloped to catch up with her husband at the front of the line of men. His dark hair was mussed, his tunic wrinkled, and his eyelids heavy. When he spotted her, his face lit into a smile and her heart melted. How could the man miss sleep and look so fine?

Drawing his charger closer, he said, “You look exhausted, my love. Did you not sleep well?”

The two horses nickered, nose to nose in greeting. “No better than you did, I suspect. I thank the heavens I didn’t join the cloisters, at least not that one. No one is allowed to speak a word.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine? The place was dreadful and the smell? Argh.”

He laughed, but eyed her more closely. “You would go mad. You look ill. Was it that bad?”

“No, no.” She gave him the best smile she could muster. After all, ‘twas not his fault.

“I’ll come back, anon.” His wrinkled forehead indicated he was not convinced of her well-being. He left her and Sally alone and rode to speak with Julienne. Shortly thereafter, one of the Templars escorted the earl and Abernathy back through the nunnery gates. Even at a distance, she could see the disgruntled faces on the two lords. She snickered to think of the welcome they’d receive. At the same time, she felt quite sorry for the Templar knight forced to stay and guard them.

“You sent them to be sequestered?” she asked, when Marcus returned to her side.

“Yes, I can insure our safety by keeping them hostage here. Should something happen to either us or our wares, word will be sent to have them executed, summarily.”

Her stomach churned and she wondered if she would hurl. Usually, such news did not affect her all that much, but her monthlies were late. The time often varied with the phase of the moon, yet even by that accounting, she was overdue. What would it be like to hold her husband’s son or daughter? Would the babe have dark curls and a Roman nose? She couldn’t picture such masculine features on a baby girl. But a boy? Yes. She could imagine their son running with boundless energy across their fields and through the town.

He regarded her with a concerned eye, but said naught. With a shrill whistle, the one she had learned meant move forward, the small army advanced. They rode until shadows grew short.

At the sounds of steel against steel, she reached for her knife. This battle noise was followed by a roar of people yelling and cheering and she let go. A long silence, the stomping of horse hooves, and it started all over again. They rounded a bend and suddenly she was atop a hill, beside a winding river, overlooking what must be London Towne.

Colorful pennants blew from the top of countless tents in front of a stone church whose spires reached into the blue heavens. More people than she’d ever seen in one place walked through muddy fields. Long rows of unending booths were covered with countless goods. Children squealed with laughter, running in chase, and hawkers sung out their wares.

The scent of cooked meat, urine, lavender, and manure all mixed together on the breeze. Alongside the river, she could see the thatched roofs of countless buildings. The dirty winding river had frequent overpasses, by which nobles, peasants, and tradesmen wandered.

To one side of the church, an amphitheater was set up for the joust, where a crowd gathered to watch. Marcus galloped his charger beside her. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

He laughed with eyes merry. “To trade. We’re here to be profitable, right?”

She nodded, but couldn’t break her gaze from the sight in the offing. She shivered. “I don’t believe I can do this. I’ve never bartered in a place of this size.”

“I have. Just stand beside me. We’ll do well together.” He reached out, squeezed her hand, and his strength warmed her like a draught of warm mead. He led their small army forward and dismounted at the edge of the tent. Soon, a local man came to check their credentials, glared at the group of armed men, and frowned.