A Knight for Love (14 page)

“Then it’s my duty to give you a proper introduction to the great lady that is London,” he announced.

And so, he began to talk of the city
and its history and he pointed out particular churches or streets he thought might pique her interest.

His knowledge
astounded Alyna. The more she came to know of Warin, the more she realized the great depths hidden beneath the garb of a warrior knight. Even now, his eyes shone as he pointed to a particularly intricate stained glass window.

Would his eyes ever shine like that for her?

The thought popped into her head and just as quickly, she popped it away. Warin, with Bennet, had brought her to London to help her reclaim her keep and wayward thoughts would do her no good.

They stopped for a moment near Eastcheap to watch the candle makers and the goldsmiths but the fish market at Billingsgate brought forth gasps of surprise from Alyna.

“Is there so much that this market sells only fish?”
The variety astounded her.

“Aye,” Warin nodded. “Fish is sold here.” He raised his arm and pointed to his left. “And meat can be bought from the butchers
in the cattle market at Smithfield.”

“I
t’s like the markets that come to the villages around Caperun Keep. There they come on occasion, here it is every day.”

“Many people live here, Alyna. All must eat.”

She shook her head in amazement. “At Yule, the tables at Caperun Keep are fair to collapse with the number of trenchers and trays. But that’s a poor man’s feast compared to this bounty.” She gestured with one arm. “I could walk about London every day and never tire of the sights.”

“Neither me,” chimed in Bennet.

In her excitement, Alyna had forgotten about him. “Bennet, is this your first visit also?” She turned in her saddle to look at him.

“Nay.”
Bennet shook his head. “I’ve traveled through many times. And every time it’s as if I enter a new city, for more and more people live here and more and more is built.”

“It’s truly a magical place.”
Wonder filled Alyna’s voice.

“
It is exciting,” commented Warin, amazed at the change in Alyna. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke to Bennet and the sad expression that had plagued his dreams since her unsuccessful return to Caperun Keep had disappeared. Instead, her lips curved in a smile and she laughed when Bennet rolled his eyes at the antics of a vendor selling eel, holding the narrow fish aloft and feigning fear as they writhed in his hand.

Did
jealousy pierce him when he saw how Alyna responded to the other man? Nay, it couldn’t be. One couldn’t be jealous of that which didn’t exist. Alyna’s change in demeanor must be the result of the tumult of the city, not of any feelings between those two.

Or so he hoped.

Chapter
Nine

Leaving their horses in the care of a stable lad, they entered
Westminster Palace through a side door. The sentry posted there, upon hearing Warin’s name, waved them through and pointed them in the direction of the great hall.

D
ue to the muddle of images already filling her head, Alyna’s only recollections of the palace were of the incredibly rich hangings and paintings that decked the walls, and the two rows of pillars marching away into the gloom of Westminster Hall.

Warin beside her, Bennet trailing behind, t
hey walked down the aisle between the pillars, Alyna craning her head all the while in an effort to glimpse the king. As they drew closer to the raised dais on which he sat, she finally saw him.

In all honesty, King Henry III disappoint
ed her. In her imagination, kings were majestic figures, garbed in gold and precious jewels, tall and athletic and imperious, imbued with some nameless quality that made them stand apart from other men.

The reality was that Henry was a thickset man of medium height, with a narrow forehead and a droopy left eyelid
, wearing simple and unadorned clothing. In truth, if she were to see him on the street she would pass him by as just another ordinary citizen. As it was, only the fact that he sat on a raised dais at the end of the Hall, surrounded by what must be his advisors, gave any clue as to his identity.

Warin must have spotted her amazement and disappointment for he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “The king is an admirer of Edward the Confessor, the saint king. For that reason, he chooses austere dress. And to honor the saint king, he has designated Westminster as the seat of power in England because this is where St. Edward founded his abbey. Henry so admires him that a mural of Edward garnishes his bedroom for divine inspiration. Not that I have seen it personally,” he added hastily,
apparently not wishing to give her the impression he was on familiar terms with the king.

Alyna swiveled her head to look up at him.

“Thank you. The king—” She was about to say that the king must be a godly man but her whispered words died on her lips for obviously, her quick response had caught Warin by surprise.

His face tilted close to her and she stared at his mouth, scant inches from her own, at the stray black hairs curl
ing about his chin that fluttered slightly with his breath. Her heart began to pound and involuntarily, her lips parted. She gazed at him, trapped in undeniable attraction, unnamed emotions tearing at her like clutching fingers.

He must have felt it too, for his breath
became raspy, harsh and a muscle flickered in his cheek as if he clenched his jaw. He swayed towards her then pulled himself up as Bennet spoke.

“We have an audience to seek, do we not?” Bennet’s voice penetrated the haze surround
ing her and reluctantly, ever so reluctantly, Alyna tore her gaze away.

She lowered her eyes and smoothed her tunic, palms suddenly damp and beads of perspiration pricking her forehead. She took several deep breaths
to calm herself and composed her features.

What must
Warin think of her, of her boldness and wayward manners? Embarrassment cascaded through her and she looked about, anywhere but at him, her eyes falling on a small group of individuals off to one side that appeared to be waiting.

Scrupulously avoiding Warin’s gaze, she instead directed her question at Bennet. “What do we
do next?”

“We await the king’s audience.”

“Of course.” She nodded, trying to pretend she was a regular visitor to the palace but really having no idea of the protocol.

Meanwhile, Warin had joined the small group and after a brief discussion returned.

“We’re in luck, for today the king will listen to grievances. I’ve listed my name with the clerk so we have but to await our turn.”

Shortly,
the clerk shouted out Warin’s name and the trio approached the dais. Gesturing for Alyna and Bennet to remain behind, Warin climbed the few stairs and bowed low before the king.

“Your majesty,” he said.

“Rise, Warin de Taillur,” droned King Henry, fiddling with a ring on his finger. “State your grievance.” His kindly manner made him more of a father figure than a ruler.

Alyna took comfort from this for frankly she had doubted Warin’s decision to appeal on her behalf. What king would bother himself with petty disputes between his barons when he had far greater issues to deal with, such as leading an entire country?

Evidently, the dispute was not so petty, for the conversation became fast and furious and impossible to follow, for both Henry and Warin lowered their voices. At one point, another clerk was motioned over and some time was spent in looking through documents and ledgers. Upon finding the proper information, the clerk was waved away. In the end, Warin appeared to have convinced the king, for he turned about to Alyna and gestured her to join him on the dais in front of Henry.

“Your majesty,
Maid Alyna Caperun,” he announced.

“Your majesty.” She curtsied.
A smudge had somehow materialized on the tan linen of her tunic and she held her hand over it. It wouldn’t do to plead her case with soiled clothing.

“
You say you are Maid Alyna, of Caperun Keep. How do I know you are not an imposter?”

Alyna
froze, still in her curtsy. Now what? She’d never met the king, how could she prove her identity?

Alyna lifted her face. The king sucked in his breath and leaned forward to inspect her more closely.

“She resembles her mother, Laura,” he gasped, “but how can I be sure?” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me what happened the day of your birth,” he commanded. “If you are truly Hugh Caperun’s daughter, you will have heard the tale.”

“Aye, Your Majesty, I know full well of what you speak.” Alyna rose to her feet. “
A great storm destroyed the entrepot of Winchelsea. My father witnessed it because you had asked him and his men to escort a shipment of weaponry from there to London. You gave him the news of my birth when he returned because my mother had sent the message to Westminster, thinking my father was there.”

King Henry nodded
. “It was so.”

Alyna heaved a sigh to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
He believed her, knew her to be Alyna Caperun. Surely now he would lend aid for her to reclaim Caperun Keep.

The king looked at Warin.
“There is a whisper about her of her father, Hugh. A good man, his loss in the Holy Land grieved me sorely. England loses many good men to that war.” He nodded again, more to himself than to Warin. “I have no doubt of her identity. I bid you recover Caperun Keep on her behalf, for the current occupant, Hugh’s sister by marriage, you say?” At Warin’s nod he continued, “The current occupant is derelict in the payment of the taxes. For that, I’ll send men to assist you in your siege. And her brother is dead as well? Hmmm.” Henry steepled his fingers and looked at Alyna speculatively. “You are not wed, Maid Alyna?”

A flush crept over her cheeks at the king’s steady perusal of her. “No, your majesty,” she whispered. “None met my father’s
measure.”

“You
’re far past the age of marriage,” the king mused, eyes speculative. “You should have a husband and children of your own.”

The flush deepened at the king’s words. She remembered the parade of suitors petition
ing her father for her hand – one had been too old, another not wealthy enough, the third so scarred by the pox that he had been immediately waved from the hall.

Remembered too how her father had cosseted her in her despair of ever finding a suitable husband. “We’ll find a man you can learn to love,” he had assured her. He had given her hope she would be able to find a match based on love and mutual respect.
And so then it was she who had spurned all suitors, waiting for the one man who could set her heart to singing. The years had slipped away and still she had no one.

Sadly
, who would have her now? She’d passed her eighteenth birthday and many considered her old. She blinked away sudden tears and lowered her gaze to the carpet draped dais.

“To avoid the dispossession of her keep to anyone who sees her as easy prey, I therefore bid you, Warin de Taillur, to wed the maid. Your family, although gone, is noble and of good standing. The mingling of Caperun and de Taillur blood will only strengthen England.
It is done.” King Henry leaned back in his high backed chair, laced his fingers across his middle and nodded.

Stunned at the king’s proclamation, Alyna sank to her knees. The king had commanded Warin to wed her
. She, who had so desperately wanted to find her own true love.

Ah, love, why should that be such a necessity to her? Love was naught but a fanciful tale sung by minstrels and extolled by poets.

Instead, she had encountered a bold knight on a deserted French road.

Warin.

She lacked male protectors but the knight had gallantly stepped into that role, had shown himself to be honorable and decent.

Warin.

He hadn’t taken advantage of her although he’d had ample opportunity to do so. He had treated her with care and respect, even jousted so she would have a mount.

Warin.

The hard truth was that love had indeed found her. Aye, she hopelessly loved her knight protector. Hopeless in that he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. He would marry her because the king had commanded it, not for any personal desire for her.

It wasn’t the union for which she had hoped. Yet realistically it was valid. Furthermore, she had no other option, for it was true she was alone and his majesty thought to do what was best on her behalf.

She could not deny the king.

With resignation, she lifted her face. “Aye, it is done,” she echoed, anguish
coloring her words. Mayhap over time her husband to be would come to regard her kindly.

Warin took her hand with gossamer fingers and placed a gentle kiss on her palm before closing her fingers over it. “You shall not regret our joining,” he whispered. “I vow I shall be a fine husband and provider.”