Immortal Warrior (23 page)

As they reached the open moorlands, Lark whinnied her excitement. Alaida held her back just long enough to remind her who held the reins, then gave the mare her head and let her gallop off the boredom of the winter pasture. Tom, riding the dun rouncey Oswald had selected for him, felt the responsibility of his new position and raced along with the two guards trying to keep up, while Geoffrey, who had ridden with Alaida too many times before and knew her habits, merely urged his little group of servants—Hadwisa rode pillion behind one groom—up to a canter so as to keep her in sight.

When Lark began to slow of her own accord, Alaida brought her around in a big circle, so that she came back in line with her guards and her new page.

“She runs wondrous well, my lady,” said Tom as she rejoined the group.

Alaida laughed and patted Lark’s neck. “The stableboy admires you, love. But you’re a page now, Thomas, and very soon a squire. Your compliments should always go to the lady, not to the horse—unless it is a new horse, of course, and even then, ’tis wise to find a way to turn it to the lady.”

Tom colored a little, then offered, “You ride wondrous well, my lady.”

The guards snickered at his clumsy shift, but Alaida nodded graciously, as though it were a fresh thought. “Thank you, Thomas. Ride back and tell Geoffrey I wish to see the standing stone, and to send the others ahead and join us.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, and galloped off on his first official task as page.

The stone, which sat in a wooded area near the bottom of a hill, was as Alaida remembered it but for a little more moss. She dismounted and traced the markings with new interest. A large spiral marked one flat side, while a menagerie of rudely carved beasts romped on the other: a wolf or dog, a stag, a bird or two, and others partly obscured by the moss that grew up from the base. She took her knife from her waist and scraped away a bit of the green to uncover the toothsome snout of some beast of indistinguishable form.

“’Tis the monster, my lady,” said Thomas.

“It is only a lion,” said Geoffrey, his voice thick with disdain.

“If it is a lion, it is a fat one with no tail,” pointed out Alaida as she scraped a bit more. She indicated a jagged line that lay over the creature’s back. “Thomas, what do you make of this?”

“Lightning, my lady, striking the beast. And there is an arrow.”

“That looks like a hayfork,” said Geoffrey, finally joining in to point at a mark off to the side. “And there is the Holy Cross.”

“And here are three lines together. For the Trinity, do you suppose?” wondered Alaida. She crossed herself as foreboding rippled down her spine. To mix Christian symbols with pagan was a sign of the Devil’s own work. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be away from this place.

“Give me a leg up, Thomas.”

“A moment, my lady. I think you had it right about the monster.” Tom was still brushing away moss on the stone, this time on the side below the spiral. “Look. Here is your dragon.”

Sure enough, there, with flames streaking from its mouth, lay an age-worn carving of a dragon she had never noticed before.

“A leg up, Tom,” repeated Alaida firmly, her apprehension growing more intense. As soon as she was in the saddle, she urged Lark away, leaving the stone and its evil signs behind. They had gone only a little way when she noticed Geoffrey glancing skyward. She followed his gaze and found what he saw, soaring high overhead. “Is that an eagle?”

“Aye, my lady. The same bird that followed us the day Sir Ari rode the bounds.”

“And how would you know one eagle from the other?” she asked, laughing.

“By his tail, my lady. See the crooked feather? Today he seems to be following you.”

Alaida checked Geoff’s face to see if he was serious. He was, which made her laugh again. “I have never known you to be so full of fancy, Steward.”

“It is not fancy, my lady,” he said, not taking his eyes off the bird. “I’ve been watching him since we crossed the river. He’s flown along with you the entire way.”

“Surely not,” said Alaida.

“But he has, my lady,” said Edric, who was playing guard for the journey. “I noted him when you first galloped ahead. He soars along above you as we ride, and he stopped with us at the stone, on a tree nearby.”

“Nonsense. It is just a bird.” Alaida brushed the idea away, but it added to the sense of foreboding that haunted her. “Let us move more quickly. I find myself growing hungry.” She kicked Lark into a canter.

“We dine along Eglingham burn, my lady,” said Geoffrey as he caught up. A wagon carrying Bôte and their gear had rumbled off before dawn, so that dinner could be waiting when the riders caught up. “I instructed them to have your cloth laid in good time.”

It was, and the meal was all the tastier for being eaten outdoors. As they started off afterward, Alaida couldn’t resist sneaking a glance skyward. There, circling overhead, was the eagle.

He kept near through most of the afternoon, until the sun started to sink in the west, when he suddenly wheeled off to the south, headed back toward Alnwick. She watched until he vanished from sight, and foolish as it was, she wished he had flown with her all the way to Chatton.

CHAPTER 15

“BASTARD KING.” IVO ground Ari’s note into the mud in disgust.

“Is there another kind?” asked Brand, chuckling as he bent to check Kraken’s hoof. “What did this one do?”

“He sent one of his men to check on me. Robert de Jeune and a dozen of his knights sit in my hall as we speak. They arrived after Nones today.”

“Balls,” said Brand, every trace of amusement gone. “How will we come and go if your hall is full of the king’s men?”

“We won’t. Ari told everyone I left today for Durham on sudden business. We can’t return until they leave.”

“’Tis poor timing, with your lady due back tomorrow.”

“Aye, but there’s worse. One of the men riding with de Jeune is that mongrel Neville.”

“The oily one we had to throw out when we first came? See? You should have let me gut him.” Brand sliced a phantom sword out and up, and Neville’s guts spilled invisibly onto the leaves at his feet. “That’s what you get for turning Norman. What do we do?”

“Stay out of sight. Ari will have to deal with them unless I think of something.”

Brand looked over at the raven perched on a nearby snag, feathers fluffed against the misting rain that had hung in the air all day. “And how will
he
stay out of their way?”

“I don’t know, but he says he can. It helps that everyone thinks he goes off whoring every night.”

“You could send a message for him to join us in Durham,” suggested Brand. “Provided he isn’t caught first . . . If he is, it will mean the end of your time at Alnwick.”

Anger bubbled up again, bitter as wormwood. Ivo whipped out his sword and in one stroke took off a nearby sapling, the closest substitute for William’s thick neck. “Bastard king.” Feeling slightly better, he shook off the tingle in his palm. “Come. If we must lurk in the woods, we’ll need that gear we cached.”

Out of habit, they had hidden extra supplies deep in the woods against the sudden need to escape. Now they could use them to stay comfortable while they lay low.

“I have a better idea,” said Brand. “I was going to visit Merewyn this evening anyway, to give her a mortar and pestle I picked up off that tinker yesterday, and we—”

“What are you doing buying her a mortar and pestle?” asked Ivo.

“Who said
I
bought it? You’re the rich man. I thought this would be a way to pay her without violating the terms of that pledge of hers.”

“Fine.” He eyed Brand over Fax’s back. “You’re not getting sweet on the woman, are you?”

Brand snorted. “As I
said
, I was going to take her the mortar. If you come, too, we can pass the evening in her warm little cottage instead of out here in the rain.”

“We’re supposed to be in Durham, remember? If word gets to de Jeune that we’re near, he’ll have me strung up by the thumbs, and then it’ll be over for certain.”

“And how would he hear? Merewyn has no neighbors to see.”

“Word travels. She may live alone, but she goes in to trade with the villagers, and they come to her for healing.”

“We’ll say we’re leaving in the morning. She’ll keep her tongue if you tell her to. She’s bound to you.”

“Still . . .”

“Come on. It’ll be hard to find the cache tonight anyway,” said Brand. He swung up on Kraken and reined him around to face toward Merewyn’s. “We’ll dig up our things and have a proper camp tomorrow. For tonight, we’ll give Merewyn her mortar and eat her pottage—”

“And drink her ale,” said Ivo, chuckling.

“Of course. And while we sit by her fire, we’ll think of some way to be rid of this de Jeune.”

“That,” said Ivo, thinking of his wife and Neville in the same hall together, “would be a good thing.”

 

THE JOURNEY HOME from Houton lacked the fine weather of the ride to Chatton but still managed to be mild. The clouds lay over the land, thick and heavy, but their blanket kept the chill air out of their bones. Alaida passed the miles playing a rhyming game with the others. Geoffrey had just won for the third time, when the lead man suddenly called out.

“Riders.”

Edric galloped ahead, the better to see the two figures who topped a rise in the distance, while Alaida’s escort closed ranks around her, hands to weapons. She shifted, seating herself more securely in preparation for flight if necessary. Sensing the tension, Lark danced and pulled at the reins.

It all seemed foolish a moment later when Edric announced, “’Tis only Sir Ari and Penda.”

“Do not sound so disappointed,” said Alaida, laughing with relief. “I would rather not spend the afternoon running from Scots. Come, let us go to meet them.”

She gave Lark a kick, taking this as a good excuse for one last gallop.

“Why have you ridden out so far,
messire
?” she asked as they neared. “Is there trouble?”

“Not trouble precisely, my lady,” said Ari as he and Penda wheeled in to join her party. “Guests. Lord Robert de Jeune comes from the king to see the progress of the castle, and he brings twelve knights with him.”

“Twelve!” With squires and grooms and hangers-on, that meant thirty or more extra bodies to house and mouths to feed, on top of the men hired for the castle. They would be stacked in the hall like cordwood, and the food . . . She started running through the stores in her mind, wondering where the food was to come from with the Easter fast on them. Geoffrey frowned, apparently doing the same. Ari cleared his throat, and she realized he had more to say. She sighed. “Tell me the rest.”

Before he could, Penda blurted out, “Sir Neville is among the knights, my lady.”

“Neville? What is that little stoat doing riding for the king?”

“For now, licking noble boots,” said Ari. “Though I have no confidence he will keep to such useful duty.”

Alaida smiled at the seneschal’s forthright assessment. “You must have met Neville before.”

“No, but I’ve met men like him. He’s the reason I came to meet you. Oswald suggested you would not want to ride in unawares.”

“If I had known, I would still be at Houton,” she confessed. “I do not like Neville.”

“Nor does Oswald. He remained behind to ensure neither Neville nor the others take too many liberties in your absence.”

“Wise marshal. Shall we give him relief from this siege?”

“The wagon is some way behind, my lady,” said Geoffrey. “Perhaps you should take shelter at Denwick until it comes. That would put Bôte at your side, as well as Hadwisa.”

“I will not cower in a cottar’s hut with my own hall a league away,” said Alaida firmly. “Bôte will be along soon enough, and I will keep all of you at hand until my lord husband presents himself this evening. And there is that look again, Seneschal. What now?”

“I fear Lord Ivo had unexpected business in Durham.”

“Ah.”

“He left yesterday, before we knew Lord Robert was coming.”

But he knew
I
was coming
. Farewell to that fresh start. A large rock formed in the center of Alaida’s breast, but she forced herself to ignore its cold weight for the moment. There was more important business at hand than the state of her marriage.

“Well, then. Still more reason I must get back to Alnwick.”

“My lady, there are twelve strange knights present. Your safety . . .”

“Is guaranteed by a noble lord who is loyal to the king who ordered my marriage,” she said with a good deal more surety than she felt. “I must represent Alnwick in my husband’s absence. Geoffrey, ride ahead with Penda and make preparations. I think . . . I think a show of affection from my people would please me today. Nothing too grand, but enough that Lord Robert and his knights will see I have the support—and close eye—of both village and manor.”

She was graced with one of Geoffrey’s rare smiles of approval. “Of course, my lady, and you will want all of the women in the yard, to greet you and escort you to the solar.”

“
Bien sűr!
” she laughed. “Preferably all talking at once.”

Ari shook his head. “Lord Robert occupies the solar.”

“As well he should, with neither my husband nor I in residence. But now I am home, and he will yield my own chamber to me.”

“And the saints help him if he does not,” said Ari.

Alaida smiled serenely. “Exactly.”

“I will have the wardrobe cleared and the small bed set there for him, my lady,” said Geoffrey.

“With a freshly stuffed mattress and our best linens and furs. He is the king’s emissary, after all.” She considered a moment. “Offer him a bath as well.”

“See if one of the, um, friendlier women would like to wash him,” added Ari in an aside to Geoffrey, who nodded, and muttered, “Perhaps two.”