Honor & Roses (14 page)

Edmund’s eyes were round. “I’ll fix it! I’ll re-oil it! Don’t fear, Sir Alric!”

Alric handed the sword to Edmund, pommel first. “I have no fear. That’s why I’m training you. The work may seem tedious, but every step is important. A knight must have complete confidence in his squire. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

Edmund took the sword and left to complete the task. Alric had no doubt that he’d never have to teach the boy the same lesson again.

When Edmund ran off, Alric returned to the shore of the lake. He walked slowly along the water’s edge. This was in fact the first time that he’d returned to Hawksmere as a man, and the first time he could look at the land without immediately thinking of it as his father’s, instead of his. Hawksmere was his, and though Morris ran it well, the steward was blunt enough about the need for a lord.

Was Alric that lord? Perhaps when the war was over, he could learn to be. He stooped to pick up a few rocks, and flung them one by one into the water, watching the splash and the fading ripples.

Not yet
. He heard the words as clearly as if someone spoke them out loud. He wasn’t ready to return to Hawksmere. He had people to serve. He fought for the king. He had Cecily to watch over. And Theobald to watch carefully.

Distance from Cleobury helped make a few things clear. Not all was well there. Theobald didn’t have Cecily’s interests at heart any more, if he ever did. That meant it was Alric’s duty to do whatever he could for Cecily. She was the heiress to the de Vere name, and she was ultimately the person he owed loyalty to.

The last ripples vanished, leaving the surface of the lake smooth. Alric’s mind had settled as well. He should thank Theobald for forcing him to return to Hawksmere, he thought. It reminded him of what truly mattered: family and honor.

At Cleobury, the summer days
unspooled slowly and monotonously, each one like the last. Cecily had never been so idle in her life. She was an honored prisoner, though. Pavia was sent to share her confinement as soon as she arrived back at the manor.

“My cousin is most displeased with us!” she said. “But I would wager we’ll be free by Sunday to go to chapel. After all, we need forgiveness!”

“By Sunday, my plants will have withered in this heat.”

“Of no fear. Before he left for Hawksmere, Alric sent word to the gardeners that they must work each day, even if you’re not there to oversee them.”

Cecily sighed in relief. Naturally, Alric kept his word.

When Theobald summoned her that evening, she remembered Alric’s words and acted as meekly as she could, begging her uncle’s forgiveness for her rash actions.

Theobald seemed to soften toward her. When she asked after Alric, though, she was told only that he left for Hawksmere and would remain there indefinitely. “A man must look after his own,” Theobald said. “He’ll return in time.”

“In time for what?” Cecily asked.

But Theobald shooed her out the door, telling her not to worry over his business.

Within a few days, she was allowed to leave her chambers and have the whole of the manor to wander, though Theobald warned her that if she so much as passed under the gate, he’d lock her up again.

With both Alric and Octavian now gone, Cecily found herself sought out by Rafe, who had no manor to his name and thus remained at Cleobury.

He behaved himself better than before, and truly, Rafe was a difficult man to dislike when he chose to be charming. He didn’t press his attention on her. He sought only to sit by Cecily at table, or to play the occasional chess match.

One evening, she sat across from Rafe at a table in the great hall. This particular game was turning into something of a stalemate.

“You played against Alric recently?” Rafe asked, after losing a pawn to Cecily.

“Not since you all have returned,” she said. “Now that he’s at Hawksmere, who knows?” She tried to sound more nonchalant about it than she felt.

“His strategy has changed. Should you wish an advantage against him, I’ll give you a hint,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Ah, what do I get in return? I’m not offering a favor.” Rafe held up a white piece and a black piece. “This is an exchange of information among powers.”

“Is it?” asked Cecily. “In that case,
after
you tell me how to play Alric, I will tell you something you don’t know but should.”

“That’s vague.”

“So is your promise of Alric’s strategy.”

He nodded. “Point taken. Should you play Alric again, you would do well to isolate one of his pieces. He strives to always protect his pieces, even those that would not hurt him much to lose. It’s a point of pride to keep as many of them as safe as possible. But that’s not how one wins. Endanger an inconsequential piece, even a pawn, and he’ll be distracted. He’ll try to protect it even if he must spend an extra turn or two before continuing his attack. He’s clever, so that’s not much space to maneuver. But play it right, and you’ll win, every time. Drives him mad.”

“Clever,” Cecily admitted. “You must have played with him many times on campaign.”

“More than I care to count.” Rafe leaned forward. “But now it’s your turn, my lady. What secret do you have for me?”

“I’ll whisper it to you.”

A half smile pulled at his mouth. “Please.”

She leaned forward, took a breath, and whispered, “It is never too late for redemption.”

Rafe grabbed her wrist. “What does that mean?” he hissed, his good mood gone.

“Let me go,” Cecily said, “and I’ll explain.”

He did so, though he eyed her narrowly.

“I’ve watched you since you’ve come back,” she said. “You act as though you’re utterly debauched. You’re not. You can be a good man.”

“You misremember, my lady. I was a horrible child. Tell me a single admirable thing I’ve done.”

“When Mary the brewster’s daughter hurt her foot during that rainy summer, you helped her.”

Rafe looked stricken for a moment, but then he recovered himself and laughed. “She was pretty. I wanted a kiss.”

“She couldn’t even walk. You could have taken your kiss and left. Instead, you sat with her for two hours on the riverbank. She told me. She said you made her keep her foot in the water so the cold would numb the pain. You helped her walk all the way home once she was strong enough.”

“That was a long time ago. I’ve changed.”

“Perhaps not as much as you think. Even if you have changed, what prevents you from changing again?”

He stood up. The sharp, shifting light from the fire revealed the tension in his jaw. “You would not say that if you knew me.” He left without a further word.

Before Cecily could clear the board and rise, Laurence approached her. His bald head and the velvet mantle he wore both shone in the light. He always dressed as richly as his station permitted.

“My lady,” he said, “you are much admired by the knights around you.”

“I doubt Rafe admires me for beating him at chess,” she said.

Laurence chuckled, the sound coming out hollow and forced. “He does not like to lose, that’s true. But he watches you. He’d be delighted if he were given you to wife.”

Cecily went still. “I’ll not marry Rafe. My uncle intends to match me to a powerful lord.”

“Is that your wish?” the older man asked. “Or would you prefer a noble knight…Sir Alric, perhaps?”

Something in the gleam of his eyes warned Cecily that she was on dangerous ground. No one must know how strongly she felt about Alric. “I have known Alric for many years. He’s my friend. But he is still only a knight.”

“So you disdain mere knights?”

What was it about arguing with Laurence that made her feel she had walked into a spider’s web? Whatever move she chose, sticky threads clung to her, wrapping her like a trapped fly.

“I do not
disdain
knights,” she said. “But I will obey my uncle when it comes to marriage. I have always obeyed him, ever since my father died.”

“Ah, yes. Dutiful Cecily, despite your secret journeys to lepers in the woods. No doubt your husband will make you into a most biddable wife.”

Cecily frowned. “Why all this talk of marriage? Has my uncle arranged something?”

“Not yet,” said Laurence, in a silky tone. “But you aren’t getting any younger. A man would be wise to sell you soon, before you lose your bloom.” The way he looked at her made Cecily feel unclean.

She tilted her head up so she could look down on the shorter man. “Sell me? I will hear no more of this. Please leave me.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Laurence bowed and backed out of the room. Cecily played absent-mindedly with the chess pieces, trying to puzzle out Laurence’s insinuations. That’s all they were, she told herself. He could not know that Alric kissed her, or how much she cherished the kiss.

And what of his words regarding Rafe? Did the other knight want her as wife? He had no better chance than Alric, for Rafe’s birth was a matter of some dispute, and he held not a single manor. Theobald would never permit such a union.

Unless Rafe forced the matter. Marriage by rape was not that uncommon, and Theobald would rather see Cecily married off than bring shame to the family name.

Cecily would have to be careful around Rafe. Perhaps she could tell Alric…what? To fight for her? To defend her honor against a man who had not actually done anything yet? She had to ignore Laurence’s sly words. He was meddling, just as he always did.

* * * *

Cecily was restless over the next few days. She’d never felt so at odds in her home. She walked from the solar to her chambers, from her chambers to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the great hall…all in an effort to find something to occupy her mind.

At last Pavia, who was sitting near the fireplace in the great hall, embroidering steadily, told her to stop fidgeting.

“I can’t settle on a task.”

“Go to your gardens, then,” Pavia said. “You’ll find a task to put your hand to there. Or if not, at least your pacing will not block what remains of my light!”

So she went out to the gardens. The sun had just slipped below the hills to the west. The shadows on the earth stretched long, and pockets of darkness already gathered under the orchard trees at one end of the gardens.

It would be too dark to work in the garden beds, so Cecily walked to the orchard. Some of the fruit trees would be close to harvest time, particularly the cherries and the lady apples.

Before she reached the long central path that cut through the trees, she heard voices. Something in the low and urgent pitch of them made her halt. Was she about to flush out a pair of lovers who were using the trees for a private meeting? But as she stood beneath an apple tree, she heard the voices more clearly. Two men. They seemed to be arguing.

Without thinking twice, Cecily hitched up her skirts and clambered onto the first low branch of the apple tree. She quickly climbed further into the green leaves, where she’d be hidden.

Too late, she remembered Alric’s words about her gold hair being a beacon among the green. Well, she’d just have to hope that whoever was approaching wouldn’t look up.

Peering through the branches, she saw Laurence and Rafe approaching from the far end of the path. She was too far away to hear their words clearly, but she could tell that the conversation was fraught. Rafe kept shaking his head, either in refusal or disbelief. Laurence was undeterred though, for he leaned close to Rafe, speaking fast and low, as if persuading him of something.

After a moment, Rafe stopped short, just where the two main paths crisscrossing the orchards intersected.

“Enough!” he snapped, his voice now clear. “I’ll hear no more. You ask much of me, but offer nothing in return but the vaguest of dreams. Go your way and don’t bother me again.”

“Sir Rafe, you would be wise…”

“I won’t speak of it,” Rafe said, quieting down. “Nor should you.” He walked only a step when Laurence put a hand on his arm. He said something in a low tone that Cecily couldn’t catch.

But the words made Rafe still. The knight turned back to Laurence, who now smiled.

The two spoke longer, but Cecily could hear nothing of the words, though she stretched her ears to the upmost. Everything about the conversation suggested secrets. Why meet in the orchard when the great hall was available? What did Laurence want from Rafe? And what made Rafe so interested in the proposal he’d been about to walk away from?

A few minutes later, Rafe pulled back, wary again. He shook his head, slowly this time.

“Think on it,” Laurence said just loud enough for Cecily to catch the words. “You don’t need to make your choice till he returns.”

Rafe turned to walk back to the manor house, which meant he was facing Cecily again. “And when he returns? What then?”

“Then you decide…just you.” Laurence spoke to Rafe’s back now, but his expression was pleased, even triumphant.

Even in the failing light, Cecily saw pain on Rafe’s face. Then he stalked away from Laurence without another word. Cecily held her breath as he passed by her tree, praying he wouldn’t chance to look up.

After he left, she cast her eyes to Laurence again. The older man was leaving too, though in the opposite direction—away from the manor house.