The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) (24 page)

Elsbeth got down on her knees in front of the small red trunk and opened it. It was not locked. It should have been. Inside were two bliauts, two pelisses, three shifts, four pairs of stockings, and a pair of well-worked boots. Below all was a beautiful comb of carved rowan wood.

"My comb!" Denise said, reaching for it.

"It is lovely," Elsbeth said.

"A gift from my father," she said, running it through her damp hair.

"A most fine gift," Elsbeth said. "Now, on with your boots and stockings. Which bliaut would you prefer? The green or the amber?

"Which do you think suits me best?"

"Suits you best? I would say the warmest, to judge by the color of your lips. Here, wear the green bliaut with the blue pelisse. A striking combination. It suits you well."

"Do you think Lord Hugh will like the green?" Denise asked.

"Lord Hugh?" Elsbeth said, burying her smile. "I do not see why he should not. When you next see him, you can ask him how he likes the look of you in the green. I am certain you will like his answer."

"You do not mock me?" Denise said as she pulled the bliaut over her head.

"Nay, I do not mock you," Elsbeth said, arranging the girl's hair down her back.

"You are not... jealous of his attention?" Denise asked, passing Elsbeth the comb when she reached out her hand for it.

"Jealous?" Elsbeth said. "Nay, I am not."

"Why not?"

"Because... because... he is mine," she said, shocked by her answer. Unhappy with the deep weight of contentment that settled on her with the words.

"I think that you are very kind."

Elsbeth stopped combing and put the comb back into Denise's small, white hands. "I am not kind. It is no great mark of kindness to see a child properly dressed. It is no great deed to bring a cup of wine."

"Yet you did not have to," Denise said, stroking her comb. "My mother says that if you do not have to do something for someone and yet you do, then that is kind and generous. You are generous, too."

"You put too much on me," Elsbeth said with a laugh. "The clothes are yours, Denise; the wine is Emma's."

"But you did not have to."

"It was easily done."

"You did not
have
to," Denise insisted.

"Nay, I did not have to," she said, giving up the battle.

"I like you," Denise said, looking up at her. "I like you almost as much as I like Hugh."

"High praise," Elsbeth said, "and most welcome. Now, put on your boots."

Denise did, with effort. They were a bit small.

"You could try them without the stockings—that would help," Elsbeth said.

"But my legs would be cold."

"Aye, it is a choice, and I leave you to make it. The toes are yours."

"I will wear the stockings. Mayhap the leather will stretch," Denise said.

"Very wise," Elsbeth said. "Now, will you assist me in bringing wine and perhaps a small cheese for Emma, or will you hunt for Lord Hugh to show him your green bliaut?"

Denise chewed her lip in thought and then said, "I want to find Lord Hugh, but the kind thing would be to take care of Lady Emma first."

Elsbeth said nothing as Denise looked up at her.

"You will not press me to be kind?" Denise asked.

"If I have to press you to it, how much of kindness is there in such an act?" Elsbeth answered.

"Humph," Denise said. "I will assist you with the wine, but I wish now I had never spoken of kindness. I think my mother knew this would happen."

Elsbeth smiled and laid a hand on the girl's back as they left the chamber. "I think she probably did."

Chapter 12

Gautier was sweating heavily, his arm shaking with exhaustion by the time Hugh was finished with him. 'Twas a lesson he had longed to lay upon Gautier's head since first meeting with
him,
yet he even now wondered at the wisdom of his action. He had listened with a strangled tongue to Gautier's soft insults cast upon the sons of the Levant, to the rumors of their debauchery, their soft lives, their love of luxury. Their baths. These men who had held off the Saracen for fifty years, to be held in scorn by this lordling of a dreary isle? 'Twas intolerable. Yet he had tolerated it.

But now he had Elsbeth. And having her, he could let loose his anger a bit. He would not openly offend, but he would no longer hold his tongue and his sword arm against insult. Gautier now knew the truth of that.

"You are skilled," Gautier said.

"No more than any who dwell in Outremer," Hugh said, laying down the gauntlet for all his kinsmen.

Gautier grunted his answer and wiped his face with his aim.

"Where did you foster?" Gautier asked.

"In the household of my king," Hugh answered.

"Baldwin," Gautier huffed. "Tales are told of him."

"They are more than tales. They are the sterling truth. He is a king unlike any other."

"Henry is a king to be feared," Gautier said, glaring.

"Henry is a king, and if men fear
him,
then that is good. But Baldwin is loved."

"Is it better for a king to be loved? What strength lies in that?"

"It is because he is strong and wise and fierce that he is loved," Hugh said. "A man may turn from fear, having grown weary of it, yet no man turns from the thing he loves, for in loving, he is strengthened and fed. Such is the strength of Baldwin and of those who serve him."

Gautier looked at Hugh appraisingly, and Hugh returned the look.

"So, you were fostered at his court and you learned to love him."

"Aye," Hugh answered, his chin raised. "I learned many things at his court. Especially how to fight."

"Aye, you did learn that, I can attest," Gautier said. "Whether you learned how to inspire love, that is still to be seen."

"I have given my vow to it."

"Aye, but a vow without the force to see it done is an empty promise. You must win her love and her trust. Her will must bow to yours."

"And so it shall," Hugh said, his face solemn. "This is old ground. We have run this course when you tutored me in all the ways to win her. I am her husband now. I am close upon the mark."

"Yet not on it," Gautier said. "You must consummate. There can be no grounds for annulment or repudiation."

"I will not repudiate her."

Gaudier laughed. "You do not know her. She could well bring a case against you in ecclesiastical court. Bed her. Close that gate and then talk to me of winning her. We cannot have what we each want until you have her in your grasp."

"I cannot take her whilst she is in flux."

"Then pray that she waits for you to penetrate her. For myself, I think she thanks God hourly for this reprieve. And plots a way out of an unwelcome and unsought marriage," Gautier said, sheathing his sword.

"I am bending her will to mine even now."

"So you say," parried Gautier, "and mayhap you even believe it. Yet I know Elsbeth. You are not on solid ground."

Hugh said nothing. There was nothing more to be said, and he was weary of arguing the same point again and again with a man who had no wish to be convinced.

"Find your wife," Gautier said. "Do what you must to fulfill our bargain. I stand ready to meet my obligation to you."

"I am pleased to hear it," Hugh said with a tight smile.

Hugh watched him walk off, his squire at his back. Gautier stood ready? Hugh had grave doubts as to that, but for now, there was nothing to be done. Nothing except win the heart and will of Elsbeth. From that, all would follow.

* * *

Hugh could fight. Gautier had not expected it of a man so soft and smiling. 'Twas a wrinkle in a plan that he had mapped well.

Gautier sighed and ran his hand over his hound's head, thinking hard.

They had a bargain, the two of them, and he would meet his end, if it came to that. But were there not ways to get what he wanted without losing a thing? There had to be. There always was.

Hugh might need to die and his squire with him.

Aye, that would clear many obstacles. Yet he could not see it done in one-to-one combat; that had just been proved. It must be done by stealth.

* * *

"We must go now and speak with the priest," Elsbeth said to Denise.

"With Father Godfrey?" Denise said. "Why?"

Father
Godfrey
. So that was his name. Thank the saints that she had not been driven to ask; she would have been shamed past bearing.

"Because he is our priest and we should talk to him."

"About what? It is but hours till Vespers. Can we not see him then?"

"Yea, we will see him then, but we must speak with him now."

"Why?"

Elsbeth suddenly understood why Emma looked so exhausted.

"Because I am concerned about your soul."

"My soul feels fine. I think," Denise said. "I am not troubled by it."

"Aye, and that is part of the problem," Elsbeth said.

"You want me to have trouble with my soul?"

"Nay, nay, but I want you to feel the weight of it, this eternal part of you. Your temporal parts will wither and age, dying as all things of this world do. It is your soul which lives on. We must see to its health."

"If my soul lives on, why must we see to its health? Will it not live
on,
no matter what?"

"Denise," Elsbeth said, taking firm hold of her hand and marching her across the bailey to the chapel, "we are to see Father Godfrey. Make up your mind to it."

"Oh, aye, I know we are, but I still do not understand why."

"I will leave that to the father to explain to you." She only prayed to God he could.

They entered the chapel, which was already dark in the failing light of an autumn afternoon. The clouds had built up again, thick against the floor of heaven, pressing against the treetops, turning all the world to pearl. Beautiful. Candlelight shone warm and golden against the stone walls, yellow orbs of heat and welcome in a gray world. The light of heaven itself, welcoming a soul within its bosom. Or so she hoped Denise would see it.

"It is very dark," Denise said. "And cold. I am glad of my boots. Do you think Lord Hugh will like my boots?"

"I am certain he will like your boots very much. He has boots of his own which he cherishes highly. Perhaps you can spend an hour by the hearth, comparing the workmanship of your boots."

"Elsbeth?" Denise said, looking up at her in puzzlement at her tone.

"Nay, I am not mocking you," Elsbeth said. "I am cross of a sudden. I do not know why."

"Mayhap you miss him? It has been
hours
since we were with him."

Aye, it had been hours, but what of that? She did not need him, or want him. When she disappeared into her own life, a life apart from his, she would be year upon year without the sight of
him
or the sound of his laughter. What mattered hours now?

He was hers, but only for now.

"It has also been hours since we last prayed. Think on that, Denise, and let us find Father Godfrey."

"He is easily found," Denise said. "He is always in his toft, working the soil your father gave into his keeping."

"He works the soil?"

"Yea, when he is not at his prayers. What do you do when you are not at your prayers, Elsbeth?'

She was never not at her prayers. Her prayers sustained her, giving her life purpose and structure, imbuing her mind with peace and security.

"Are we not instructed to pray without ceasing? This I do."

"Even Father Godfrey does not do that," Denise mumbled.

"I am sure he prays mightily."

"But not all the time."

She was not going to get into another debate with a child of eight.

"Show me to his toft, Denise. I will speak to him today."

"It is through the side door," she said, pointing to a small arched door at the side of the nave.

They found him on his knees as the rain began to fall in large splattering plops. He stood at their approach and dusted his hands, ignoring the rain.

"You find me at my labors," he said. "Do not tell me it is the hour for Vespers. I cannot have been so remiss."

He was a kindly looking man, now that she looked again, her memories of him stirred to life. He had been a handsome man ten years past and had always had a smile for her. His hair of ginger hue splattered with silver, his checks ruddy with health, his eyes the blue of a soft sea—a most regular and comforting looking priest was Godfrey, just the sort of man to guide Denise.

"Nay, Father," Elsbeth said. "It is hours yet. We have come because... well, because..."

She did not quite know where to begin.

"Let us move into the chapel. It is ofttimes easier to speak under the shadow of the rood," Father Godfrey said.

"Aye, that is so," she said with a relieved sigh.

When they were gathered beneath the comforting arms of Christ on His cross. Father Godfrey said, "Now, what need does a bride of a day have for a priest?"

"Oh, it is not I who has need," Elsbeth said.

"Oh?" He looked down at Denise.

"It is Denise," Elsbeth said. "Her spiritual education has been lacking."