While Angels Slept (8 page)

He swallowed the
bite in his mouth. “It is rather complicated, but suffice it to say that my
grandsire, several generations back, was the second son of the last king of East
Anglia. My father held the title Viscount Winterton, heir apparent to the
Earldom of East Anglia. “

“How are you
related to the seated Earl of East Anglia, then?”

“Geoffrey de
Gael, the current earl, is my cousin.  My father’s mother was Geoff’s father’s
sister.  My father inherited the heir apparent title through his mother, as the
next eligible male in the line.  When he died, I inherited it.”

“I see,” she
nodded thoughtfully. “Noble lineages are often very confusing. For example, there
is no seated earl of Kent, which is why I married the stewards of the ancient
throne.”

“I know.”

He understood the
progression of lineage better than she did but he found it rather touching that
she felt the need to explain her position as if he would not have understood the
workings of Anglo-Saxon nobility. Reflexively, he smiled at her and she smiled
back. It brought him such a feeling of warmth that he just as quickly quelled
the gesture by shoving more food in his mouth.

“Something to
consider now is the fact that your son has inherited any titles that your
husband may have held.” He couldn’t believe he’d brought Brac into the
conversation when he’d tried so hard to keep away from the subject. He watched
her reaction carefully.

Surprisingly,
she didn’t seem to dampen. She merely nodded her head. “Charles holds all of
the titles for the time being,” she said. “Hunt will inherit them upon his
death.”

“Speaking of
which, where is Charles?”

She shook her
head. “I’ve not seen him all day. But I am sure he is well, else we would have
heard otherwise. “

Tevin eyed her
as he finished the remainder of his beef. “You do not get on well with him, do
you?”

She shrugged,
careful of what she said with little ears present. “We have always accepted one
another.”

Tevin let it go.
He could see there was more to it but it frankly wasn’t any of his business.  He
turned back to the remainder of his food, nodding his head in thanks when
Cantia poured what was left of the wine into his cup.

“What is to
happen now, my lord?” she asked softly as she reclaimed her stool. “Is there to
be more battle?”

Tevin drained
his cup, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I do not know, my lady,”
he said honestly. “Since Rochester is closer to Dartford than my own castle, I
suspect I will stay here for the time being to protect the crossing. Beyond
that, however, I do not know.”

“Do you not have
a family that will miss you?” she asked. “Perhaps you should bring them here
for the duration of your stay.”

He looked at
her, strangely startled by the question. It was a personal inquiry, though he
could see by the look on her face that she’d not meant it as such.  For the
first time since he’d met her, he actually felt uncomfortable.

“No need,” he
said shortly, wanting very much off the subject. He abruptly stood up. “My
lady, I thank you very much for the meal and conversation.  If it would not be
too much to ask, I would visit the wounded and be apprised of their
conditions.”

He seemed edgy
and Cantia stood up with him, wondering what she said to upset him so.  Without
another word, she led him out of the alcove and into the great hall, full of
miserable men lying upon the floor. It smelled of smoke and blood.

As they visited
the wounded one by one and discussed their condition, Tevin found himself
paying more attention to the sheer grace and beauty of the lady rather than
listening to what she was saying.  Too soon, they were finished discussing the
condition of the men and their purpose for conversation was over.  It was
growing late.

“If there is
nothing else, my lord, then I shall put my son to bed,” Cantia said, glancing
over at the boy as he inspected a soldier with a splint on his leg. “It has
been a busy day for him.”

Tevin nodded. “I
thank you for your attention to my men.” He eyed her as she bowed slightly to
him, to excuse herself, and moved away. “My lady?”

She paused.
“Aye, my lord?”

“Will you be all
right tonight?” he lifted an eyebrow. “Should I check on you later to make
sure?”

She knew what he
meant and her embarrassment returned. She averted her gaze. “I will be quite
well, my lord,” she assured him softly. “Moreover, you took the only weapon I
had.”

“You can always
obtain another one if the will is strong enough.”

She shook her
head, firmly. “No need, my lord. But I thank you for your concern.”

Taking Hunt by
the hand, she quit the hall with the big yellow dog in tow. Tevin swore that
when she left, all of the light went out of the room.

***

Cantia awoke on
the floor of her bower. The bed was right over her head but she realized that
she couldn’t bear to sleep on it any longer. The bed reminded her of her
husband and it brought more distress than she could handle to sleep upon it. So
she had slept on the floor, just as she had done since his death.  She didn’t
know if she would ever be able to sleep on the bed again.

She was slow to
rise and even slower to dress. Shades of dawn were beginning to spread across
the sky, growing brighter by the moment. But Cantia saw no magic in the
sunrise. The last time she had gazed upon such a thing had been the day her
husband had perished. She did not believe she would ever be able to gaze upon
another sunrise as long as she lived and not think of that ominous morning.

After a brisk
wash in the rosewater that the old servant woman had brought her, she donned a
simple blue sheath and surcoat, securing it fast with a black broadcloth
girdle.  She rightly suspected she would be busy with wounded for the day and
did not want to muss a finer garment.  

Securing her
magnificent hair in a thick braid that draped over her shoulder, she gazed at
herself in the polished bronze mirror and thought that there was something
different about her this morning.  She didn’t look like a happy young girl any
longer. She looked like a woman whose grief had matured her.  She stared at
herself until tears came to her eyes and then she put the mirror down.  She
couldn’t bear the reflection any longer.

Hunt was in the
small landing outside when she came out of her chamber. He had his toys spread
out all over the landing and top stairs, something that Brac had repeatedly
admonished him against.  Cantia found herself doing the same thing. Hunt made
the effort to put a couple of wooden soldiers back in his room but then he
began begging for food.  Taking her son down to the living level, she passed by
the solar on her way to the great hall and caught a glimpse of bodies in the
small room. Pausing, she peered inside.

The lady knight
was on her cot, sitting up against the wall.  The lady knight looked at Cantia,
nodding her head slightly as their eyes met. Cantia was about to say something
to the women when movement caught her attention further off to her right. She
had to step into the room to see who it was.

Charles Penden
sat at the large table so often used by his son over the course of the years. 
She’d not seen the man for two days and now, he had appeared.  He looked
disheveled and she could smell his stench from where she stood. When his gaze
found her, she instinctively tensed.  She did not like the expression on his
face.

He grunted at her.
“This is not an infirmary,” he said. “Move this woman out.”

It was an order.
Cantia’s mood was rapidly darkening. “She is injured. It would be painful and
difficult thing to move her to the upper floors. ‘Tis best that she recuperates
down here when she can be watched with the rest of the wounded.”

She wasn’t being
combative in the least, but Charles flew out of his chair and grabbed her by
the neck.  Hunt was shoved back out of the way with his grandfather’s swift
moment, ending up on his backside. Startled, but not hurt, he burst into loud
sobs.

Charles smelled
of alcohol and sweat. His foul breath was in her face, his hand squeezing her
neck. “I will not be challenged in my own house,” he snarled. “You will do as I
say or I will turn you out. Do you hear me?”

He was hurting
her, but more than that, she was angry.  “Let go of me,” she hissed. “Have you
gone completely mad?”

He struck her,
then. Cantia’s head jerked with the force and she could taste the blood in her
mouth.  Lifting her hand, she was fully prepared to strike back to defend
herself when Charles suddenly grunted and fell backwards.  Cantia pushed the
hair out of her eyes in time to see Tevin descending on the old man, moving in
for a mortal blow with his enormously balled fist.  She shrieked.

“No,” she
grabbed his arm before he could strike again. “Please… no more, not in front of
Hunt.”

The little boy
was crying loudly on the ground.  Cantia went to her son and swept him into her
arms, whispering comfort to him as Tevin, exerting the greatest self-control,
stepped away from the sprawled old man.  His dark eyes were as hard as obsidian
as he gazed at her.

“Are you all
right?” he asked.

She nodded, more
concerned for Hunt’s state of mind than her own. But she tasted her blood and
wiped at the trickle on her lip. “He did not hurt me.”

Tevin lifted an
eyebrow; his entire face was taut with rage, so much so that his flared
nostrils were white. He looked back down at Charles, still in a heap on the
floor.

“Next time,” he
growled at the old man. “I will kill you.”

Hunt wailed
louder. Cantia shushed him gently. “Please, my lord,” she said to Tevin. “He…
he is not himself. You must make allowances.”

“I make no
allowances for a man that would strike a woman,” he said coldly. He stepped
around Charles, circling him as a vulture would circle its prey. “You will remove
yourself from this keep, Penden. I do not want to see your face again today.”

Charles gazed up
at him, his eyes red and unfocused. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and
walk unsteadily from the room. He didn’t even look at Cantia.  When he was
gone, Tevin and Cantia focused on one another.

“What happened
that he would do that to you?” he demanded quietly.

Cantia opened
her mouth, but the lady knight in the corner spoke first. “She did nothing,
Tevin. He attacked her for no reason at all.”

Cantia looked at
the lady in the corner; she did not know what to say, ashamed that this
stranger should witness such a scene.  “He is not himself,” she said softly.

Tevin took her
chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to get a better look
at Charles’ handiwork.  Her lip was split, but she would heal. He held her face
much longer than necessary, simply for the fact that he couldn’t seem to let
go.

“Has he done
this before?” his voice was low.

She shook her
head. “Never,” she replied honestly. “Brac would have.…”

When she refused
to finish, Tevin lifted an eyebrow at her. “What would he have done?”

She wasn’t going
to answer him, but he shook her chin gently to prod her. Eyes averted, he
barely heard her words. “Brac would have killed him,” she whispered.

Tevin let her
go. Hunt was calming and she set the boy on his feet, wiped the remainder of
his tears, and instructed him to go to the kitchens and get some watered wine
for the lady knight.  When the boy ran off with the dog close behind, she
looked at Tevin. 

“Charles was
always a gruff, hard man, but he was never cruel,’ she said. “I fear that Brac’s
passing may have changed him. This madness shows no sign of letting up.”

Tevin put his
hands on his hips, his dark eyebrows furrowed for effect. “I’ll not let him
take his grief out on you if that is what you mean,” he said. “If I have to
lock him in the vault for the safety of you and your son, I shall do it without
hesitation.”

“I am sure there
will be no more transgressions, my lord.”

He just stood
there, looking at her as if he didn’t believe her.  In the corner, the lady
knight shifted slightly, grunting when her ribs pained her. It was enough of a
noise so that Tevin and Cantia took their attention away from each other and
focused on her.

“Are you in
pain?” Tevin asked her.

Val tried to
shrug, but with a broken collarbone, it was not a simple gesture. “As much as
is to be expected, I suppose.”

“I shall bring
you more willow bark,” Cantia turned for the door.

“Wait,” Val
stopped her. “Though I appreciate your kindness, my lady, that brew makes me
exceedingly tired.  I find the pain tolerable.”

“As you wish, my
la…lady.”

Cantia wasn’t
quite sure how to address the lady knight and the room fell into an awkward
silence. Tevin lifted his hand in Val’s direction.

“Lady Cantia,
this is my sister, the Lady Valeria de Reims,” he introduced them. “I apologize
that I am so late with introductions, but it did not seem the appropriate time
yesterday. Please know that we are both very grateful for your delicate care of
her injuries.”

Cantia dipped
her head in Val’s direction. “A pleasure, my lady.”

“My pleasure as
well, Lady Penden. And my thanks.”

Cantia gazed at
the fair haired lady knight, feeling foolish for staring at her and realizing
that they both knew that she was staring at her. It wasn’t hard to read her
thoughts. Val smiled a toothy grin that was both impish and charming.

“I know, it’s
not usual to see a woman in armor,” she said. “Blame my brother. He would
swordplay with me as a child and I grew to love it.”

Cantia looked at
Tevin, an eyebrow lifted in mock reproach. “You turned this lovely woman into a
warrior? How dastardly.”