Once a Knight (22 page)

The others in the great hall rolled away from us, but no one grumbled. Sir David had reestablished himself as a legend once again, and we all knew our safety depended on his experience
.

The rush lights on the wall flickered eerily as he led me by the hand to the outer door, then we stepped outside into the darkest night I'd ever beheld. The cool air slapped me awake and Sir David asked, “Can you walk now?
”

I nodded and stifled a yawn, and we moved toward the drawbridge. The men-at-arms challenged us before we even knocked, and Sir David mumbled, “Good. They're nervous
.”

His whispered instructions took only a moment, then two of the men-at-arms disappeared and the chains that held the drawbridge rattled. The sound carried through the still night like the clatter of a corpse's bones, and my skinny knees knocked in sudden alarm
.

The drawbridge was never lowered at night, certainly not after an attack like the one that had occurred that day. But without hesitation, Sir David strode across the planks and I followed. I had no desire to leave the castle, but if I had to go, I wanted to keep nigh to my lord
.

“
Not so close, lad.” Sir David craned his neck and looked at the starry sky. “Don't you want to know our destination?
”

I did, but I didn't think I would like the reply
.

“
We're going to the churchyard.” Sir David looked down at me and I thought I saw him grin, although his
mouth was nothing more than a black hole in the dim glow of his face. “What do you think of that?
”

I thought he was mad, but wisely kept my own council. Instead I tentatively suggested, “If you have need to pray, Sir David, there's a chapel in the keep
.”

“
I don't want to pray. I want to visit the graves in the village church
.”

I crossed myself and with a boy's hysteria wondered why Sir David's eye sockets appeared empty
.

Set on a rise above the village, the church stood apart from the other buildings, and the graveyard sloped off to the side toward the forest. I hoped in my deepest heart Sir David jested, and he would lead me somewhere, anywhere but there
.

But nay, the damp grass beneath our feet made squeaking noises as we cut a straight line across the meadow
.

Sir David seemed utterly at ease in the darkness, moving with the poise of a cat and speaking in a cheerful tone that eased a little of my paralyzing fear. “Are all of Lady Alisoun's family buried there?” he asked
.

“
Some of them. The older graves are there. The more recently dead were laid to rest within the church under the altar
.”

“
Are the villagers still buried there?
”

“
Aye, sir, although not close to Lady Alisoun's family
.”

“
The countess's family is set apart?
”

I nodded, although I knew he couldn't see me. “By a fence, aye
.”

“
So no one has been buried in the family plot for years?
”

“
No family has been buried there for years, but if a visitor is taken sick and dies, we bury them with honor in that place
.”

“
Ahh.” Sir David's exhale sounded like he'd had a
revelation. “Has anyone died and been buried there recently?
”

“
Oh, nay. The last time anyone was buried there was clear last winter
.”

“
That is a very long time ago,” Sir David agreed. “Who was it?
”

“
My lady's friend and her babe came to visit, but they sickened and died within two days
.”

“
Who was this lady?
”

“
The duchess of Framlingford
.”

Sir David stumbled and almost went down
.

I grabbed for him. “Are you ill, sir?
”

His hand found my shoulder, and he pressed it. “Afraid you'll be left alone out here?
”

I saw no reason to lie. “Aye, sir
.”

“
The moon is rising. See?” Sir David pointed toward the eastern horizon, and indeed, I saw a white glow on the mountain tops. “You could find your way back, even by yourself, but to tell you the truth, I doubt anyone is mad enough to come out so late
.”

“
Except maybe the man who hurt Sir Walter and tried to hurt my lady.” My low voice wavered abominably, but Sir David heard
.

“
So you think he's mad, too?
”

“
I hope so, sir,” I said fervently. “I hope he's obviously raving mad, for I don't want to think he's someone who walks among us undetected
.”

“
Well said.” Sir David didn't offer any reassurance, however
.

I noted that, and started walking close on his heels again
.

“
Tell me what happened with the duchess of Framlingford
.”

I searched my memory. I hadn't really paid much attention, and at that time in my life, the previous win
ter seemed eons ago. “The duchess was a friend of my lady's, I recollect, and apparently had come for a visit to Beckon. That's one of my lady's other castles
.”

“
Why?
”

“
I don't know, sir
.”

“
I thought you might have heard gossip
.”

“
There's not much gossip about my lady. Never before has she given us anything to gossip about
.”

“
Before me, you mean
.”

I knew better than to answer that, but Sir David didn't seem to require a reply
.

He pondered, then asked, “Why did Lady Alisoun and the duchess come here? Were you expecting Lady Alisoun?
”

“
Nay, sir, we were surprised that she would travel so deep into the winter, and the duchess and her babe arrived already ill
.”

“
A babe?
”

“
So they said. I never saw either one of them. My lady feared they had brought contagion to the castle, and she tended them alone, putting only herself at risk. When they died, she prepared the bodies and placed them together in the coffin
.”

“
Completely alone? No one helped her in any way?
”

“
No one
.”

Sir David walked now in silence until we reached the churchyard. A short wooden fence surrounded all the graves, and the gate creaked when Sir David opened it. At the heart of the cemetery, a smaller rock wall surrounded the family of my lady. I lingered outside the wooden fence until Sir David called, “This ground is consecrated in the name of our Lord. Suicides and heretics only are buried outside the fence
.”

I found myself standing at his side before he'd finished the sentence
.

The rising moon caught in the tops of the trees from the nearby forest. The white light it delivered showed an assortment of gargoyles and saints atop the stones that marked the family's individual graves. In the stark shades of night and moon, the saints leered and the gargoyles hunkered, waiting for unwary prey to pass. I clung to Sir David's surcoat as he trod the narrow path through the older graves to the place where the visitors were buried
.

One of the graves stood open
.

If I could have moved, I would have run. When my long legs started pumping, no one could have caught me
.

If I could have moved
.

As it was, I stood there and stared with mouth gaping wide as Sir David dropped to his knees and peered down into the ground. He grunted. “Nothing here.” Dusting his hands, he stood and looked around
.

I knew what he sought. I even spotted it before he did, but I shut my eyes tight to avoid my duty to inform him. It didn't help. He marched toward the coffin with sure strides and I scampered in his wake, wanting to stay close to him even while I longed to be away from that half-open wooden box
.

I thought my prayers had been answered when he halted partway there, but he only handed me his knife and said, “That madman we discussed might be out there now, so I want you to watch my back
.”

My teeth chattered too much to reply
.

Sir David moved closer to the coffin, and as he did the moonlight sneaked down the trunks of the trees, creeping ever closer, as if it wanted to illuminate the body within the box. I heard the scrape of wood on wood as he moved the lid completely to the side. The odor of decay wafted to my nostrils. I fixed my gaze on the trees and the area around the churchyard, staring
so hard my eyeballs ached while I wondered if I would disgrace myself and puke from fear and horror
.

Sir David was silent for so long I finally glanced at him
.

He stood, hands on hips, staring in that coffin as if he'd never seen a decomposing body before, when I knew he'd seen them hanging at every crossroads. Working up my fortitude, I called, “Sir David? Will we be done soon?
”

He didn't answer, and I crept closer. “Sir David?” He still didn't answer, and I turned to look at him fully. “Sir David!
”

At that moment, the moon lifted above the trees and the full light of it illuminated that thing inside. A rotting pelt of short black hair that covered the whole corpse. A long snout with a mouthful of canine-looking teeth. Four legs that ended with curved claws. And a smaller version of the beast tucked beside its belly
.

I dropped the knife, abandoned Sir David and ran as fast as my legs could carry me back to the castle where I huddled by the raised drawbridge until Sir David came and rescued me
.

Someone was sneaking
through her bedchamber. Someone who wished her ill. Alisoun tried to open her eyes, but could only listen to the whisper of footsteps as they padded along the floor. She tried to move, to call out, but the nightmare gripped her tightly. Somewhere close, something scratched, sounding like a thin blade on a whetstone.

That thing had returned from the grave. She'd meant to go out at first light and cover it with dirt once more, but it was too late. The wolf she'd placed in that coffin even now crept toward her, reanimated by the holy ground in which she'd placed it. She wanted David, but he had abandoned her. She wanted Sir Walter, but he was horribly hurt. She was alone, weak, helpless—and something jumped for her throat.

Sitting up, she screamed and struck out at the intruder, and that misbegotten kitten went flying off the mattress and landed on the floor with an indignant squall.

“Oh, nay!” Alisoun tumbled out of bed and picked up the cat, cradling it close. “Did I hurt you?”

The kitten sunk its sharp claws into her skin and clung to her. Alisoun petted it, crooning, seeking any injury, and the kitten settled down and purred.

Alisoun wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted everything to be as it was before, when she had control of her life and her destiny. She wanted, for the first time in her life, to deny the consequences of her actions. Stupid actions, when viewed in retrospect, but even now she saw no other course. She had to help her friend, she had to hire Sir David, she had to welcome him into her bed…. She sighed. Well, nay, she hadn't had to welcome him into her bed, but she knew without a doubt that when she was old, she would remember his intrusion into her safe world as the best thing that had ever happened to her.

The scratching noise started again.

Alisoun froze, then lifted her head and peered around.

David sat at the table, candle at his elbow, writing. She readily identified the scratching noise now; it was the sound of a sharpened point on parchment. But what was this all about? And why was he ignoring her?

“David?”

He lifted his head and fixed her in his gaze. “Alisoun.”

Her father used to look at her almost that way when he was trying to make her cry about her shortcomings. But David's demeanor shouted genuine disappointment in her. Self-consciously, she rose and slid back in bed, holding the kitten as if it were her one true friend. Subsiding under the covers, she asked, “What are you writing?”

“I'm drafting our marriage contract.” He flicked bits
of dirt off his sleeve with the feather. “How often must I agree to bathe before you will sign it?”

She couldn't think of an answer. She couldn't think of anything. “I…had never considered that matter something to be included within the solemn document of a marriage contract.”

“I would have no more surprises in our alliance.” Without a smile to lighten his manner, he suggested, “I have always thought once a year to be sufficient in the normal scheme of life. However, I suspect that will not be sufficient for you.”

“Ah…nay.”

“Twice a year.”

Why were they talking about bathing? “Once a month?”

Picking up his knife, he scraped at the parchment. “Once a month it is.”

Silence settled on them, the kind of silence that stifles speech at its source. He bent his full concentration to the writing and she bent her full concentration to the kitten.

It frolicked on top of the covers, and when Alisoun moved her foot, it jumped as if the movements of the wayward foot challenged its supremacy. Alisoun moved again; the kitten growled and leaped. Alisoun couldn't help laughing, then she glanced guiltily at David. He watched the kitten's antics with a half-smile, and she relaxed. If he could smile at the kitten, she could speak to him without fear of retribution, although he'd never in any way threatened her. She didn't know why she worried now. Looking at him more closely, she announced, “You'll need to bathe sooner than I anticipated. You're dirty.”

He looked at his grubby fingernails. “I went out.”

“At this time of the night? Where did you—” Then it
struck her. She knew why he looked so grim. She knew where he'd gone.

“I've been paying my respects to the dead.”

Gooseflesh covered her at his cold tones and flat gaze. “Did you see it?”

“I reburied it.”

Relief rode hard on the heels of her horror. “Was the coffin…?”

He lifted a brow inquiringly.

“Open?”

“That thing scared young Eudo into a gibbering jelly.”

She hadn't thought it could get worse, but she now lived the nightmare she feared. “Eudo saw?”

“He won't tell anyone.”

Perspiration formed a sheen all over her body and she dabbed the blanket on her upper lip. The kitten hunkered down and watched, its hindquarters twitching. “How do you know that?”

“I instructed him to keep his silence, and anyway, he's ashamed.”

“Ashamed?”

“That body frightened him so badly he abandoned me and ran away. I told him that every knight I knew would run from such a thing, and I tried to ease his torment.” He looked grim. “I wouldn't have that brave lad fret about such a trick.”

She wanted to cover her eyes and wail at the failure of her plot. A lifetime of sensibility, destroyed by one act of mercy. But she had to assure herself that no one else would suffer. Only Alisoun would pay for her charity. Desperate, she asked, “Will
you
tell?”

“That you buried a wolf and her pup in your family plot?” No muscle moved in David's face. His hands remained still. He gave nothing away with his stony
blankness. “Never. I would not have the Church authorities arrest my wife.”

So that was the price. Marriage to Sir David.

It would not be so dreadful. Not dreadful at all. Except that this hard stranger facing her across the room expressed no empathy. He was like a merchant, bargaining his silence for her hand and knowing she had no choice but to agree.

Bowing her head, she gave herself into his keeping. “I'll instruct the priest to announce the banns tomorrow.”

“That's today.” He indicated the growing light which shone through the window. “He'll call them every day after that, also. I would not have anyone cry foul about our marriage later.”

“I wouldn't do that!”

Solemnly, he said, “That hadn't occurred to me. However, you are a considerable heiress and the king wished to dispose of you as he would. As it is, we'll have to pay for a wedding without his permission.”

She winced as she thought of the gold which would leave her coffers.

“It's for a good cause,” he said. “How soon can you be ready to move to Radcliffe?”

In a normal year, she spent time in each of her castles and moved her household accordingly. Moving to Radcliffe would require extra preparation, for she had no idea what circumstances she would face when she got there. She combed the fur on the cover with her fingers and considered. “Four days.”

“How efficient.” His lips quirked and he looked a little more like the candidly demonstrative man she knew. “I should have expected nothing less. So three days calling the banns and negotiating the marriage contract. We'll be wed on the fourth day and leave immediately
after the ceremony.” He stood and placed the quill and parchment in one corner. “And Alisoun?”

She tensed, anxiously awaiting his new demand.

“That cat's stalking you.”

She glanced down just as the kitten pounced on her restless fingers. She gasped. David laughed. The kitten hung onto her hand and licked her until Alisoun could disengage herself and climb from the bed.

“Have you named the kitten, yet?” David asked with more than casual interest.

Alisoun automatically demurred. “Nay, I do not care to give it a name.” Then she stared at the little creature and saw how its feisty nature camouflaged, but could not conceal, its vulnerability. “But perhaps we could take it with us to Radcliffe.”

 

“Let me come with you.”

Alisoun paused in the act of packing her finest plate and lifted her head to look upon Edlyn. Illuminated by the great hall's rush lights, the girl looked pinched and miserable, and Alisoun's store of compassion welled within her. But she knew her duty, and answered, “Dear, I can't do that. You must go to your parents' home and prepare for your coming marriage.”

“My mother is even now preparing for my nuptials. She's putting a pair of sheets in the trunk, a new gown atop that, a new wimple atop that, some packages of herbs for physicking. My father is picking out his best horse from the stable and tightening the cart against the long journey. They're contacting the monastery for a monk to accompany me. They don't need me for that. When I arrive, I'll be given a welcome-and-farewell dinner and be hastened on my way—they need the money the duke of Cleere will settle on me, so there's no need
for delay.” Edlyn leaned forward and placed her cold hands on Alisoun's. “But I want to delay, just a little longer. I want to know that all is right with you before I leave. Let me come.”

Alisoun longed to grant Edlyn's wish, and her own hesitation in doing the proper thing horrified her. Mayhap her pregnancy had loosened the bonds she placed on her emotions. Mayhap, as all her doubts about her marriage rushed at her, she wanted the support of all who loved her. Mayhap she wanted to give Edlyn the gift of one more month of maidenhood. Whatever the reason, she said, “Sir David says the plight of his hungry people is very bad, and I do need someone to coordinate the packing of foodstuffs for Radcliffe.”

Edlyn's hands tightened. “I can do that!”

“And someone to distribute the foodstuffs when we arrive.”

“You know I can. You taught me how to look for those who need help the most.”

“Aye. I taught you.” She'd taught Edlyn the practical things and she could only hope that the girl had absorbed enough of Alisoun's stoicism to ease her way in her new home. But not yet. Slowly, Alisoun nodded. “If you would come with us—”

“Aye. Aye!”

“—I could easily leave Heath here. I would feel better if she remained to care for Sir Walter, and having you with me would remove a burden from Philippa.” Taking that as permission and not wanting to hear more, Edlyn tried to jump away. Alisoun caught her before she could flee. “For a month, only. Then, regardless of my situation, you must go to your parents.” Sighing, she added, “When this shortcoming of mine becomes known, no parent will send me their child for fostering.”

“I will.” Edlyn's eyes glowed. “If I ever have a daughter, I'll have her fostered by no one else.”

On that promise, Edlyn fled as if fearing Alisoun would change her mind, and Alisoun watched her with a heavy heart. Resuming her packing, she said to the furs, “After all, it's not as if I am leaving her here within temptation's reach.” She glanced toward the solar where Sir Walter lay. He had survived these two days, and with the saints' help he would live a long life. Yet for now George's Cross needed another chief man-at-arms, and David had named Hugh.

Hugh, who swore on bended knee he would protect Alisoun's demesne. Hugh, who had celebrated by sleeping with half the maids. Hugh, who broke Edlyn's heart without even knowing she existed.

“Besides—” Alisoun wrapped her largest silver platter in one of her softest rugs, “—what will the passing of another moon matter to Edlyn's duke?”

 

“Radcliffe is not what you're used to. It's small and it's dark.”

David had scarcely left Alisoun's side during the five days they'd been on the road. They'd ridden at the front of the column which included Lady Edlyn, Alisoun's maids headed by Philippa, Alisoun's carts, and of course, Ivo and Gunnewate and her men-at-arms. During that time, David tried to brace her for the great disaster of his home. She didn't know whether it was truly as bad as he said or whether he simply sought reassurance, but she knew how to be gracious. “Many of my other holdings are less genteelly appointed than George's Cross.”

“Actually, it probably won't offend your senses. Of course, it's not nearly as clean as you like, I'm sure.”

The morning sun shifted through the leaves and dappled David's face, and she liked the way the shadows lessened the toughness of his brown skin and the stubble which covered his unshaven chin. He looked younger, with a raffish distinction.

“Not as clean as you like,” he repeated. “But what is?”

Taking his comment as permission, she allowed her gaze to wander down his form. She thought him the finest figure of a man she'd ever seen. Oh, he hadn't grown the lobe of his ear back or a finger to replace the one he'd lost, but he had big feet to plant on the ground and a height that lifted him to the clouds. A pleasant mixture of earthiness and whimsy was her husband.

“But it has a very nice solar with a glass window.”

“Glass?” Surprised, she tore her attention away from his body. “I would not have expected that, when you've been so ill-served by the drought.”

“Oh, we had a few good years when I first got the keep, and—” his voice dropped to a growl, “—my wife insisted.”

The northwest coast was easily the least civilized corner of England, with forests that overhung the narrow tracks and transmuted the sunshine to a deep green. The sides of her carts brushed branches on each side and more than once the men-at-arms had had to join with the ox drivers and chop the wood away to allow their passing. David had been unhappy when he'd seen the chests she packed for their move and he'd grown more unhappy with each day on the road.

She could hardly blame him for that. Not even robbers frequented this road. Yesterday a pack of wolves had run parallel through the brush and eyed them in a considering manner. At the sight, young Eudo had broken down and sobbed with fear. That night, after they'd made camp,
Alisoun had taken him a decoction of wine and herbs to calm him and she sat with him until he slept.