The Temptation (The Medieval Knights Series) (44 page)

"We must, Denise," Elsbeth said, caressing the girl's head. "You will be safe here."

"I am not!" Denise said sharply. "I do not want to stay without you."

"Yet you must," Elsbeth said. "This is the place of your fostering. You must remain. You will be well."

"Elsbeth, do you not go to collect your things?" Hugh asked as he watched the gate for the arrival of Gautier, watched the men-at-arms for signs of aggression, watched the skies for the emerging stars and the end to endless rain.

All for Elsbeth. Every thought for her. When had she captured him so completely? There was no room for Baldwin in his mind when Elsbeth had so firmly entrenched herself within his heart. He had no plan for Sunnandune or for his promised knights or even for Jerusalem; he only sought her safety, certain he could make good on his promise.

"Please," Denise said, her voice rising into tears, "do not leave me. I hate Warkham."

Elsbeth looked down into Denise's shining eyes, something pulling hard at her heart with the girl's words. She felt the same. She hated Warkham. Even now, she longed to run past the gates, empty of all but speed, her hands free of every possession, every bliaut, every girdle, every comb, all to rush free of Warkham and her father. Could she blame Denise for feeling the same?

"Can we not take her?" she said to Hugh.

"She is not ours to take," Hugh said softly.

"I will take her," a voice said from out of the darkness. It was Father Godfrey, and he was holding a torch whose flame was swept wildly in the swirling wind. The rain disappeared in an instant, leaving behind only wind. "She should not be left alone to Warkham's courtesy. I will watch over her."

"Nay, I want to go with you," Denise said, burying her face against Elsbeth's ribs.

"Thank you, Father," Hugh said briskly, content that the matter was settled so well.

Yet Elsbeth was not content. What could the priest do? Was not his life circumscribed by prayer?

Should not prayer be enough?

"Do not leave me with him! Please take me with you," Denise cried, hanging onto Elsbeth's skirls.

"We cannot, Denise," Hugh said, taking her arms from Elsbeth and kneeling in the mud to face her. "We dare not. There is much amiss between the lord of Warkham and the lady of Sunnandune. Would you make it worse? For so it would be if we stole you from your proper place."

"I do not care," she sobbed, burying her face against his shoulder. "I only want to go with you.'

"Denise," Father Godfrey said, laying a hand upon her head, "God will suffice for this. You must trust in His goodness and His bountiful provision for you. All will be well for you in Warkham. God will see it so."

God would see it so? Nay, these words struck dull and deep in Elsbeth's heart. Nothing was ever well in Warkham. Not even prayer could surmount Warkham's walls and escape the grip of Warkham's lord.

'Twas blasphemy to think it, and she shook the ache from her heart. God was mightier than Gautier. God was a strong tower and a fortress for the righteous. It was so. It had always been so.

Yet it was not so, not in Warkham when Warkham's lord was in residence.

"I do not believe you," Denise said, her crying becoming wildly desperate. "I do not believe anything you say."

Hugh looked at Elsbeth in expectation. Would she not soothe the child, admonish her not to speak so to their priest and guide in the affairs of heaven? He looked in vain. Elsbeth had no words to speak against that charge.

"In belief there is rest, Denise," Father Godfrey said, unoffended. " 'May the Lord of peace Himself give you peace at all times and in every way.' So he gives us His promise, for all times and in all ways."

Aye, God gave His promise, yet what was a promise but a vow, and did not vows shatter? Would God's word shatter when thrown against Gautier? 'Twas blasphemy to think it, yet she could not find the strength to control her thoughts. Her shattered vow to Ardeth seemed to break all vows, all controls within her heart and mind.

"All is ready, my lord," Raymond said, coming from the darkness into the torchlight. He had prepared three horses, one for his lord, one for himself and one pack animal. There was no horse for Elsbeth.

Elsbeth turned to look at Hugh, and within her arose the same plaintive cry that had come from Denise's mouth.
Do not leave me. Take me with you.
Yet she said nothing, she only stared.

The bargain with her father was broken, had been broken upon Hugh's sword. There was no hope of his getting Sunnandune, and so there was no hope of claiming the knights of Gautier's promise. Hugh had no more need of Elsbeth. He had even taken her body, proving his manhood upon her. Nay, of what more use was Elsbeth?

"Elsbeth? You are staying?" Denise asked, sniffling. "I do not mind staying if you are with me."

Still, she said nothing. She could only stare at Hugh in the darkness.

Hugh stared back at her, frowning. "You thought I would leave you," he said softly. And then, "You thought I would leave you?" he growled. "You are my wife. I swore to you time and again that I would not betray, and I will not. I will not, Elsbeth," he whispered. "You are mine. Did I not swear that I would keep you? Did I not tell you that we had traveled far beyond Sunnandune? Did you believe none of it?"

"There is no horse for me," she said. What more needed to be said? No matter what he had vowed, there was no horse for her. She could not fly to Sunnandune, though she had often wished it.

"Do you have a horse that is not Warkham's?" he asked. "I will not steal from him, giving him cause in this battle we must face."

Nay, she did not have a horse of her own. She had come to Warkham in a cart sent by Richard and Isabel; cart and driver and accompanying knight had returned to Dornei long ago.

Hugh read the answer in her eyes.

"You ride with me, Elsbeth. You stay with me," he said. It was a promise.

The warmth of feeling that pulsed through her at his words shamed her. She should not need him. How had she come to need him?

"What of Denise?" she asked.

"Denise must stay," he said.

"Nay!" Denise said, clutching his hand.

"Aye, it must be so," he said to the child. "I have no just cause to take you from here. You must stay; Father Godfrey will attend you as best he may, and I will write your father and urge him to make another fostering for you. I can do naught else, Denise."

"You could if you wanted to!" she said, pushing away from him, rushing into the penetrating dark of Warkham. "You can do what you want. I know you can!" she shouted.

Guilt pulled hard at Elsbeth, and she turned her face from it. There was naught she could do. They could not take Denise with them. They had to leave Warkham, and if a rebellious and contrary girl could not understand that then she was to be pitied, but still they must go. Her own relief at being rescued from Warkham she did not look too closely upon.

"My lord, we must away," Raymond said, laying a hand on Hugh's shoulder.

"Aye, go. I will attend her and calm her," Father Godfrey said.

It seemed unlikely. Denise had never been overfond of Father Godfrey.

"My lord?" Raymond urged.

Hugh mounted with a sigh of frustration, and Raymond helped Elsbeth to mount behind his lord. It was a precarious perch as she was behind the high rise of his saddle, yet there was nothing to be done about it. Elsbeth hung on mightily as Hugh urged his mount forward, piercing the darkness of Warkham's bailey. Gautier had not returned, had not called his men down upon Hugh's head, but that could change in a moment. They had to leave or risk losing their very lives.

Raymond hesitated and called out softly to Hugh's back, "I will come anon. Do not slow for me. I come." And then he was gone, blending into the shadows of the bailey.

He knew where to find her. In the solar.

He entered, though it was not quite proper for him to do so, but these were not proper times. She sat upon a simple stool and looked into the fire. It flickered halfheartedly and only increased the shadows in the corners of the chamber. Denise, with her fair skin and light hair, lit the chamber like moonglow.

"I thought you were leaving," she said, looking down at her fingers, entwined upon themselves.

"I am leaving," he said, crossing to her and kneeling at her feet. She would not look at him.

"Go, then."

Raymond stood but did not leave.

"I will come back for you," he whispered.

Denise looked up at him, her eyes bright, and then they dulled and she shook her head. "You cannot make that promise. You go where he goes, and he goes away from Warkham."

"I will not serve Hugh forever," he said. "I know you hate it here. I will come and take you wherever you want to go."

"I want to go home," she said, her voice very small and tight.

"I am certain that you will go home. Hugh will write the letter to your father. You would aid yourself if you sent a letter of your own. Ask Father Godfrey if he will aid you."

"Why should he aid me?"

Raymond smiled and said, "Do you think he wants you about Warkham? You cannot be a favorite of his, your soul being so very rebellious."

Denise smiled slowly. "You are no more a favorite of his than I. I think you were chased out of Jerusalem for fear that you would foul the very air."

"The air of Jerusalem cannot be fouled; it is the air of God Himself. You would know that if you knew anything at all."

"I know that you are a very"—she was searching for the perfect insult, and then blurted out—"a very able squire. I think you shall be a wondrous knight."

Raymond said nothing. He and Denise looked into each other's eyes for a time, the fire dying a slow and quiet death, and then he grinned.

"You flatter me so that I will walk with you to the chapel, in search of Father Godfrey."

"And so that you will ask him to write the letter," she said with a grin.

"You are a very cunning damsel," he said as she stood up from her stool.

"Will you do it?" she asked as they walked toward the door.

"I will," he said.

"Then I do not think being called cunning is an insult."

Raymond laughed softly as they crossed the hall and said, "You are right. It is not."

Chapter 23

They rode through the night, the rain gone but for the rich moisture in the air. The stars glimmered out from behind the clouds, white and silver and blue in the black of night. They rode to Sunnandune, south and east of Warkham, leaving the sea and the River Nene behind them.

"Where are we bound?" she asked.

"To Ely," Hugh answered, "on the Ouse River. Yet we cannot fly that far in a single night. We will stop at Crowland Abbey for the night. Tomorrow will we reach Ely."

"Do you think he will follow?" she asked, turning to look behind her. Only Raymond rode behind, a stalwart heart who would not fall without hue and cry to mark it, nay, nor blood. He would fight hard for his lord.

"Aye, I think it in him. His will is thwarted. He cannot be pleased," Hugh said.

As Hugh's own will and quest had been thwarted. He had bargained for Sunnandune and had lost. How pleased could Hugh be at this turning?

"Where is he now, do you think?" she asked softy, more to herself than to Hugh. She could almost feel her father running behind them, like a wolf in the wood, running after them, hunting them.

Fear and the irresistible urge to run and hide swelled like the rising tide within her. This was what Denise had felt at being left in Warkham. Elsbeth knew that fear. She remembered it. It was no small thing, this fear of Warkham. It was no small fear to be a child, without voice, without power, without succor in Warkham Tower.

She remembered that, though she remembered little else of that time.

She had left Denise to that. She had left on a running horse with a strong knight to defend her. Denise had been robbed of aid so that Elsbeth might escape.

She was coming to understand an unpleasant truth about herself. She was a coward. What of Elsbeth, Prayer Warrior? All mist and cloud, a name built on whispers, a legend built on boggy marshland: a lie. An unpleasant truth, yet one she could not ignore
as
she had ignored Denise.

"Turn back," she said in her husband's ear. "Turn back to Warkham."

"Did I hear you aright?" he said, slowing his horse to a stop.

"Turn back," she said, laying a hand upon his arm. His arm was mighty. What had she to fear? "We cannot leave Denise. You know that we cannot, no matter what befalls us."

"You risk all, little one," he said.

"And you do not?"

"I am a warrior," he said. "It is my function and my desire to fight, risking all."

"And I am Elsbeth. Have you not heard of her? She is a prayer warrior of some merit. It is time she earned the name. Take me back," she said.

"I cannot put you in harm's way, little one," he said softly, laying his hand over her own. "If I die in this, what would Gautier do to you to get Sunnandune for his own? I cannot take you back to that."

Aye, there was much her father could do to her, but she would not think of that now.