“Your family has been in Kent for many generations?”
There was a small three-legged stool in the corner and she pulled it near the table, sitting. “For hundreds of years. In fact, my family had a very specific role in the ancient Kingdom of Kent, something that still carries through to this day.”
“What is that?”
She looked at him, her lavender eyes reflecting the weak firelight. “The firstborn female in my family always married the heir to the throne of Kent. Though the nobility title was passed down through the males, the first born female had the most important role. When William le Bâtard conquered these shores in the days of my grandfather, our role became no less important. But because there is no future king of Kent, I have married into the Stewards of Rochester, traditionally the family that serves the king as the protector of the throne.”
Tevin realized he was watching her mouth as she spoke. It was delightful and captivating. He further realized that she had the same lisp that her son had, though it was barely detectable. He’d never noticed before, but it was something that made her all the more charming. He shoved another piece of meat into his mouth, praying his growing interest in her wasn’t obvious.
“Most interesting,” he said. “In that respect, your family and mine share something in common. We are both of noble lineage predating William’s conquest.”
“May I beg you to tell me of your family’s line, my lord?”
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 as she reclaimed her stool. “Are there to be more battles?”
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 g
reat 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 where 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 with some remorse.
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 du 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 red 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.”
He pursed his lips, knowing this was a battle he could not win but willing to make the attempt. “Do not believe everything she tells you. I had no hand in this. She would blame me when the truth is that I cannot get rid of her.”
As Val burst out in giggles, Cantia went on the attack, however in jest. “She should be married to a fine lord and have many children about her. Why are you so selfish that you would force her to bear arms? Haven’t you enough men at your disposal that you do not need to force your sister into armed servitude?”
As Val hooted, Tevin threw up his hands as if to defend himself. “My lady, if you have any ideas on how to get my sister out of armor and into feminine garments, I am at your mercy. Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed.”
Cantia fought off a grin, winking at Val as the woman stifled her snorts in her hand. “You are a wicked brother, my lord. See how your sister suffers because of you.”
Tevin, too, was fighting off a grin. He simply shook his head and turned away knowing that any further words from him would only be tw
isted by Cantia’s humorous tirade. On the other hand, he was perfectly willing to be a target if it would help her forget Charles Penden’s brutality. Moreover, this was the first light moment they’d had since his arrival to Rochester. He was discovering that she had a delightful sense of humor.
Cantia, for her part, had indeed forgotten her cut lip. The levity of the moment was helping her mood for the first time in days. And she was pleased to see that the viscount also possessed a sense of humor, a surprising factor given the man’s warring nature. As he walked away from her, smirking, she found herself admiring his broad back. It was a rather nice back. But the uninvited thought shocked her, sickened her, and she abruptly lost her humor. She suddenly felt very ill at ease, desperate to get out of the room and away from the inappropriate thought that had unexpectedly entered her mind.
“I will fetch your meal, my lady.”
Val watched her nearly run from the room, her own humor fading at the swift departure. She looked at Tevin, who himself had only caught the tail end of Cantia’s garments as she fled from the door. He met Val’s gaze.
“Why did she leave so swiftly?” he asked.
Val shook her head. “I do not know.”
Tevin nodded his head, wondering if he should go after her. Val, not surprisingly, could read it in his eyes. And having known her brother her entire life, she could read something else, something she had never seen before. But just as quickly, she chased those thoughts away. It was impossible. Still…
“Why don’t you go after her,” she suggested, watching his expression carefully. “If we somehow offended her, then we should apologize.”
Tevin didn’t say a word. He merely nodded his head and left the solar. Val sat there for several long moments, entertaining thoughts that she had never before considered. There had never been any need. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her brother held some interest in the lovely, grieving Lady Penden. For Tevin’s sake, she sincerely hoped not.
Tevin caught up to Cantia just as she exited the keep into the kitchen yard. Dogs scattered in front of her and much activity went on all around them. Hunt was running in her direction, splashing the contents of the wooden pitcher he held, and Cantia directed her son to take the liquid to the lady knight. As the boy ran on, Tevin came up beside her.