Midnight Warrior (2 page)

“Why are you frowning?” Adwen whispered. “Are you angry with me?”

Brynn smiled. “Of course not.” Gentle Adwen always feared disapproval. “Why should I be angry with you?”

“It was not I who sent for you. I know you are tired
from tending me for the past two nights. You know I would not have disturbed you—”

“It is no disturbance. Have you forgotten my husband was slave to Lord Kells before he was given to your husband? Your father sent us to Redfern to serve you, my lady.”

“You know I do not look upon you as a servant. You
are
angry with me.”

She tried to restrain her impatience. “I told you I was not angry. I want to be here. Now, what is wrong?”

Adwen smiled wistfully. “You’re so strong. You’re never afraid, are you? You must think me very foolish.”

“No.” She nodded for Alice to leave. She wasn’t sure she trusted the woman and was never comfortable in her presence. Alice appeared fond of Adwen, but it was common knowledge at the manor that the maid occupied Lord Richard’s bed on occasion. Brynn knew she should not fault her for this, when it was entirely possible the woman had no choice. Lord Richard was master here and he slept with any servant who took his fancy. Thank God, his fear of Lord Kells’s displeasure had kept him from looking in her own direction. Adwen’s father would not have been pleased if his healer had been used for a purpose other than the one she had been sent to perform.

When the door closed behind Alice, Brynn sat down on the bed. “It’s not foolish to be afraid, only to hold it close and let it smother you. Tell me and it will go away.”

“It is—you’re hurt!” Adwen’s concerned gaze was on Brynn’s cheek. “You have a bruise.”

“It is nothing.”

“Someone struck you,” Adwen whispered. “Your husband?”

Brynn shrugged. “I displeased him.”

“You should be more careful. A woman is so helpless …”

“She does not have to be.”

“Please, do not be so bold,” Adwen pleaded earnestly. “I hate to be selfish, but I do not think I could bear life without you.” She forced a smile. “I suppose I am very fortunate. Richard has never struck me, even though I have failed him.”

Anger flared again. Oh, no, Lord Richard had never struck Adwen. He had only used her frail body as a vessel for his lust and barely let her rise from the childbed before trying to get her with child again. He had broken her health and her spirit and robbed her of all joy. “You have not failed him. There’s time yet for you to bear children.”

Adwen shook her head. “I am too tired. Sometimes I think I’m too tired to draw another breath.” She was silent a moment and then said, “Will you blow out the candle? I want to tell you about my dream, but I don’t want to see you laugh at my foolishness.”

Brynn blew out the candle and then took Adwen’s hands again. “Are you warm enough? Should I get you another cover?”

“No.” Adwen nestled deeper under the blanket. “Did you see the shooting star tonight?”

“It’s not a shooting star. The good monks call it a comet.”

“Alice helped me to the window and I saw it. Was it not wondrous?”

“Yes.”

“Alice was frightened. She said it was an omen of bad fortune.”

“Alice is very stupid.”

“I don’t think it is bad fortune. I believe it means that my wish for a child will come true. Is it terribly vain of me to believe that God could be so concerned with my needs?”

Brynn swallowed to ease the aching tightness in her throat. “No, you are not vain.” She paused. “But did
you ever consider that perhaps God did not mean you to have a babe?”

“Of course not, it is my duty to give my lord an heir.”

She would very likely die trying to perform her duty, Brynn thought with exasperation. There was something very wrong with this world that valued one life over another.

“Perhaps if you gave Delmas a child he would not treat you so cruelly,” Adwen said.

“A child is not what my husband wishes of me.”

“It is what all men want of women.”

It was true. Even Delmas would be puffed up with pride if he got her with child. She shuddered at the thought. A child would tie her to Delmas as those forced vows had never done. After that first hideous week in his bed she had concocted a scheme to fool him into believing her healing powers would be lessened by copulation, but there was always the possibility Delmas might overcome this fear.

No, she would not think of it. She would have no child and someday she would escape Delmas and go back to Gwynthal, where she belonged. She would lose herself in the forest and he would never, never find her.

“What else does he want of you?”

“What?” She had lost track of the conversation. She wrenched herself back from those memories of the cool, green forests of home.

“You said Delmas wants something else of you.”

“Oh. Lord Kells has promised Delmas he will make him a free man if you are made well again.”

“And what of you?”

“I am his wife. There is no freedom for me.” Unless she took it. Unless she ran away from this hated place.

“It does not seem just. You are only one and twenty and he is old and ugly.”

“Not so old.” She did not know Delmas’s exact age.
His beard was streaked with gray but his powerful body was still firm. She supposed he would appear old and ugly to Adwen. Lord Richard was a young man, golden of hair and fair and virile as a god from Olympus. In Brynn’s eyes it seemed terrible for evil to be so winsomely cloaked. Delmas and Lord Richard were both ambitious, ruthless men, but she would far more deal with Delmas, who had no pleasant mask to hide his inner ugliness.

“Could your father not find a younger man for you?”

“You don’t understand.” She had no intention of explaining. Adwen had enough troubles of her own and needed none of Brynn’s burdens.

“Brynn?”

Her hand tightened around Adwen’s. “Go to sleep, my lady.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that. We are friends.”

“Lord Richard would not approve of such a friendship.”

She was silent a moment. “He need not know. We could keep it a secret, couldn’t we? Say we are friends.”

Brynn was silent. She knew Adwen must need her friendship desperately to disobey her husband even in secret, but she did not want to say the words Adwen desired of her. She had tried to push Adwen away, to keep her at a distance. Friendship with the girl would keep her as much a prisoner at Redfern as Adwen.

“I ask too much,” Adwen whispered. “Why should you wish to be friends with me? I am only a burden to you.”

Pity rushed over Brynn in an inevitable tide. “Nonsense. We are friends … Adwen. Now will you go to sleep?”

“What if the dream comes again?”

She reached out and stroked Adwen’s hair. “Did it frighten you so?”

“Not at first. I was happy to see him.”

“Who?”

“The warrior. He was on horseback riding up the hill. It was very dark and close to midnight.”

“How could you know the hour?”

“I just … knew. I could see the magic star behind him.”

“Comet.”

“He was in mail armor that glittered in the moonlight. I could not see his face, but I was sure he wouldn’t hurt me. But I was wrong, I saw Redfern burning.…”

Brynn breathed a sign of relief as she realized this was no death dream. “It’s all this talk about William of Normandy. No wonder you’re unsettled.”

“It wasn’t about that Norman. He wasn’t—it wasn’t him.”

“Of course it is.” She tucked the cover around Adwen. “I overheard Lord Richard talking just last night in the dining hall about the danger of invasion by the Duke of Normandy.”

“I remember. He was very angry. He said he had better things to do than follow King Harold into battle.” She sighed. “You don’t think it was a vision, then?”

“It was a dream.”

“He was so real … I could even see the glint of red in his hair from the fires behind him.”

“A dream.”

“I’m glad.” Adwen was silent for a long time, and Brynn thought she had drifted off to sleep. “I feel so alone. Will you lie beside me?”

Brynn lay down on the bed and gathered Adwen’s delicate form close. She had grown thinner since she had lost the last child. Childbed fever had sapped her strength and Brynn was not sure another bout would not carry her away.

“I like this. I feel safe,” Adwen whispered. “You
held me like this the night I almost died. I was drifting away … and you pulled me back.”

Brynn stiffened. “It was the herbal broth I gave you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then it was God,” she said quickly. “I’m a healer, not a sorceress.”

“Have I offended?” Adwen asked anxiously. “I would never accuse you of such a thing. I only—”

“Hush. All is well. Rest.”

“And will you stay here until I go to sleep?”

“I’ll stay.”

Despair and desperation rushed through Brynn. It was happening again as it had happened time after time during the past three years. Adwen was asking for only this moment, but Gwynthal appeared farther away than ever. She was a healer. How could she run away from this sick child who begged for her friendship and would die without her care? She could escape Delmas, but Adwen’s need bound her to Redfern with chains of iron.

“The star …” Adwen murmured drowsily. “I think you’re wrong, Brynn. He’s coming …”

“It’s a sign from God.” William of Normandy gestured to the brilliant comet and then turned to Gage Dumont with a smile. “Who could want more proof that my claim on the English throne is just?”

“Who, indeed?” Gage Dumont said impassively. “But, of course, Harold of England is quite probably telling his barons the comet is a sign that his cause is just and that God is on his side.”

William’s smile faded. “Are you saying that I am using God to further my claim for power?”

“I’m only a humble merchant. Would I dare to accuse your grace of such blasphemy?”

The impudent rascal would dare to tweak the beard of the Pope if it suited him, William thought with annoyance. He was tempted to give him a sharp set-down but restrained himself. “Hardly humble. It’s rumored you possess more wealth than I do. Is it true you have a grand palace in Byzantium?”

“Rumors are often in error,” Dumont said in evasion.

“And your castle at Bellerieve is said to be full of wondrous treasures from the East.”

“I’m a merchant and a trader. As your grace knows, I often journey to the Byzantine to acquire goods. Do you begrudge me a few comforts to ease my days?” He raised a brow. “Perhaps you sent for me to ask to share my baubles?”

William gestured impatiently. It was not Dumont’s riches he needed. “Bellerieve is also said to possess the finest soldiers and archers in Normandy.”

Gage Dumont’s expression hardened. “Your knights think a lowly merchant is fair game. It was necessary to make sure I had the means to discourage them.”

“I realize my knights can be a little … boisterous.”

“Acts of rape and pillage are considered by some to be a trifle more than boisterous.”

“Knights are trained only for warfare. It is understandable that they grow restless in times of peace.”

“So restless, they ravage the helpless countryside. That is why I hired mercenaries to make sure I was not equally helpless.”

William decided it time to abandon a defensive
position and attack. “You killed Jean of Brestain last year.”

Wariness flickered in Gage’s expression. “True.”

“It caused a great uproar among my barons. They do not like commoners interfering with their sport. They wanted me to raze your castle to the ground and take your head. Do you know why I did not?”

“Kindness?”

William ignored the sarcasm. “Because your Bellerieve guards my coast well and I knew you would no more permit an invader to breach your walls than you did my knights.”

“I’m very grateful.”

“You are not.” William met his gaze. “You are as arrogant and without respect as your father.”

A flicker of expression crossed Dumont’s face. “I have no father. I’m a bastard.” He bowed slightly. “Like your grace.”

“Your mother claimed that you were Hardraada’s son.”

“And Hardraada refused her claim. The King of Norway has issue enough for his taste and needs no bastard to lay claim to his land. Particularly the son born of the daughter of a Norman merchant.”

“He must have some fondness for you. He trained you in warfare and took you on several voyages with him.”

Gage’s eyes narrowed on William’s face. “I find it curious that you know such a great deal about me.”

“Why? Surely you expected me to keep an eye on you. Being a bastard myself, I know the hunger illegitimacy brings for power, the desire to take what’s yours by any means possible. Since Hardraada would not give you the position you deserved, there was the chance you might decide to take mine.” He smiled. “I was grateful that instead you chose to gain power by amassing the
wealth of Solomon.” He raised his brows. “But wealth is not enough for you, is it?”

He shrugged. “Gold can buy almost anything.”

“Almost,” William said softly. “But not what Hardraada could have given you. Not what I can give you. Gold cannot let you take your place as a noble. It cannot clean the common dirt from your shoes.”

Gage looked down at his shoes. “I see no dirt. I’m shocked you would think I’d enter your august presence besmirched.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You must be more clear. As a merchant, I’m used to firm language when bargaining. I take it, this is a bargain?” He leaned back against the balustrade and said bluntly, “You want my archers and my soldiers when you invade England. You probably also will want a goodly sum to feed and clothe them during the invasion. Is that correct?”

“That is quite correct.”

“And what do you offer me in return?”

“I don’t have to offer you anything,” William said testily. “My army could sweep over Bellerieve on the way to England and take what I need.”

“And come out of the siege weaker than you can afford to be. What do you offer me?”

“To knight you for services rendered.”