Choose the Sky: A Medieval Romance (Swordcross Knights Book 2) (2 page)

Mina smiled. Some things never changed. “Two, then.”

She began to sing a lilting tune in French, one that her mother sang to her and one her father loved. He was asleep before she reached the third verse, so Mina dropped her voice as she eased her way out of the room. At least one member of the family should be able to sleep in peace.

* * * *

Leaving her father’s small apartment in the separate building, Domina crossed the courtyard and swept into the main hall of the keep where a number of the castle residents were gathered, enjoying the warmth of the massive fireplace. Her maid Constance, who had been sipping a cup of ale near the fire, rose to her feet at once.

“My lady,” she said. “What do you require?”

Domina waved one hand to silence her. “I have a task for you, Constance. Pack a trunk for me, and include my newest gown. Pack for yourself as well. We go to London tomorrow, and may remain up to a week.”

Constance nodded and left immediately.

Domina turned to a man who was also sitting by the fire. Haldan was in charge of the castle’s garrison, and in her father’s practical absence, he was the highest-ranking military man at Trumwell.

He certainly looked like a soldier, with a big and rangy build and a smattering of little scars testifying to his experience in combat. He seemed to not take life too seriously, however, for he was more often found with a mug of ale in his hand than a sword. He had light blond hair and blue eyes that often attracted attention from local women, sometimes to their sorrow.

Mina told Haldan, “Arrange for a suitable escort for me and Constance for tomorrow morning. I want no delays.”

He didn’t even rise from his bench. “Winter is nearly upon us! Such a journey there and back will take weeks. Are you certain you wish to go?”

“What I wish or not is no concern of yours,” she said. “Three men-at-arms should be sufficient, and two squires as well. Giles can lead them. Go now and choose, as well as the horses. Tomorrow we ride out.”

He smiled and drained his ale, slowly, before putting the mug back on the table and rising lazily to his feet. “Yes, my lady.”

“Present yourself to me when you are done. I’ll have instructions regarding the protection of Trumwell while I’m gone.”

His eyes lit up. “Yes, my lady!”

He left quickly, likely due to the notion of getting to play lord during her absence, even though Ancel the steward was the one who would ensure that order was maintained.

Domina sighed. If only her cousin Joscelin were still living at Trumwell. She sorely missed the support of a male relative. Joscelin tried to return to visit whenever he could, but his commitment to the church—not to mention the difficulty of travel—meant that he was gone for long stretches at a time.

Even though Joscelin was as slight and frail as Haldan was strong, Mina had faith that her cousin would have no trouble with Haldan. Men didn’t question an order when it came from another man. She prayed for her father’s return to health. So many problems would be solved!

Up in her chamber, Domina faced more questions from Constance. The maid had served Domina for years, having grown up in the village nearby. She was a rather plain woman, by most accounts, with stick-straight, dark blond hair she wore in a braid. She had a broad face, thin lips, and eyes she herself described as muddy. Yet Constance possessed a quiet grace of her own, and Domina sometimes wondered if any man was going to seek her out as a wife. On the other hand, Constance never cast her eye at anyone, as far as Mina could tell. Perhaps she was happy as she was.

“What is the news, my lady?” Constance asked.

“According to the message I received today, the king requests the presence of Godfrey de Warewic at court,” Mina explained, showing Constance the letter, though her maid could not read.

Constance touched the image of the king’s royal coat of arms with reverence, impressed by the missive. “He requests your father’s presence. How exciting! But the lord cannot travel.”

“Certainly not,” Mina agreed. “Yet I’d not dare invite curiosity by saying so, or mentioning any weakness at all. Thus, I’ll go in his stead.”

“Is that wise, my lady? Your father needs you. The whole castle needs you.”

“What other choice do I have?” Domina said. “The steward will take charge in my absence, which I pray will not be long. Likely it is some bureaucratic matter, and I can answer those questions as well as my father could anyway. While I’m in London, I can meet with Joscelin and let him know how everyone at Trumwell is faring.”

“It will be good to speak with your cousin,” Constance said approvingly. “Perhaps he’ll come back with you.”

Donna shook her head. “I think that at this stage of his studies, he must remain in London unless there is a crisis. I can protect Trumwell as well. Above all, the family of de Warewic must appear strong. We must let no one suspect that my father is indisposed. If they do…”

She didn’t have to finish. The military reputation of Godfrey de Warewic, and of his father before him, was so well-known that people assumed the castle was undefeatable, with a large garrison of soldiers ready to rush out at any moment. Domina had heard so many stories about her father’s exploits in the Holy Land, of the battles he’d fought in and the prizes he’d taken. His past alone was formidable protection…as long as people thought he was still hale.

In truth, since her father’s sudden, unexplained collapse, Domina had to take control of all their family’s lands, and she was not nearly so astute when it came to defense. She studied as much as she could, and she knew enough to present a strong front. But two thin harvests in a row meant that she could ill afford a large garrison. She spent what little money she had very carefully, and prayed for her father’s health to return.

Until then, only the ignorance of others protected her. If the Welsh heard of her father’s weakness, they might attack. If any nobles heard of it, they’d work to take her lands. If the king heard of it…Domina didn’t want to think of it. As a woman, she’d be given no say in her future, or the future of all her people. At best, she’d be packed off to a nunnery while some oaf was given her title and lands. At worst, she’d be married to one of the king’s allies simply so he could maintain the castle in the king’s name. He’d be a mindless brute chosen for his skill in battle, and nothing else. She knew what sort of men populated the king’s army, and they were nothing like the noble warriors of her father’s ilk. Many of those who called themselves knights were often just brigands.

She’d never allow such a man to pass through her castle gates.

But first, she had to endure a trip to London and back, while pretending all was well and concealing the truth.

Just outside the doorway of
the building where they’d been cooped up that day, Luc of Breacon stretched his entire body, all six feet of it, and pushed his hands into the air as high as they would go. “At last! I thought the mindless chatter would never end,” Luc said to his friend Octavian.

The other knight said slyly, “I thought you thrived on politics. What’s the saying? ‘You can’t master the game if you don’t play.’”

Luc made a face. “Don’t quote my father’s words to me. I’ve heard them often enough.”

And now he was following in his father’s footsteps, advancing the Braecon family fortune by maneuvering through the court of King Stephen. It wasn’t always as exciting as he’d imagined it to be. “Never would I have guessed that sitting on a padded bench could be painful. But after eight hours, I’d rather fight a battle!”

“At least on a battlefield, you know who wants to stab you. These meetings of all the barons and such…I’m not sure who’s friend or foe.” Octavian spoke simple truth, for he’d been born far away in the Holy Land. He had only been in England for a few years, and he had much to learn about the politics of the country, which were currently far more turbulent than usual.

“You’re doing well, Tav,” Luc told him, quite honestly.

“It helps that no one expects me to know anything,” Tav replied, a smile crossing his brown-skinned face. “I just listen, so I can report back to my liege lord…not that he troubles himself much about the matters at hand.”

Octavian served a lord who owned lands in England, France, and the Holy Land. As a result, his attention was rather divided, and Octavian had considerable leeway to do as he liked, so long as his work served the king.

In contrast, the lords of Braecon had always been close to the royal family, ever since the Conqueror first came to the shores of England and began his reign. Luc was trained as a knight, but he was raised as a noble who would eventually inherit his father’s title. As such, he lived and breathed politics. That was his father’s desire, and Luc never saw a reason to doubt his path. He would carry on his family’s legacy by making himself truly indispensable to King Stephen. During much of this year, his help was needed, for the king had been captured in battle and imprisoned for months by his rival the Empress Maud. Luc’s family helped Stephen’s queen keep control until Stephen was free again.

The king used his newfound freedom to convene council after council of his supporters. He wanted a resolution to the war, and he wanted to know who he could rely on. Luc was determined that the name of Braecon would be on that list.

He’d already proved his loyalty, in fact. Since being wounded in battle last year, Luc spent months recuperating. He knew he was lucky to be alive, and yet he chafed at the long period of forced inactivity. He was recovered now, praise God, but he hadn’t yet returned to the battlefield. Instead, he fought other battles. He was glad his friend Octavian was at his side for many of them. Though they had only met a few years ago and came from wildly different backgrounds, Luc trusted Tav implicitly. They’d fought side by side, and that created a unique bond.

“Shall we find our lodgings?” Tav asked then, looking around.

It was night, and the streets of London were mostly shadows, lit only by occasional torches on a building wall. The two men started to walk to the house of Luc’s relative, who graciously hosted them both. Despite the late hour, neither showed much concern about their surroundings. This was not surprising, since both were armed, like the knights they were.

At several points, people who crossed their path looked at them and quickly changed direction, or looked away. Octavian’s face pulled into a frown. He’d been born in the crusader kingdom of Aleppo, of African blood, so his appearance was unusual in London. Not unique—a handful of people of similar background had made their way from the warmer Southern world to the isle of Britain, one way or another. But Octavian was also a knight, and that made him truly stand out, attracting looks whenever he went out among the general populace. Unfortunately, not all the attention was friendly.

“Sometimes I wonder why I came all this way,” he confided to Luc. “It wasn’t to sit and listen to old men argue about who’s changing sides this month. Or changing back, depending on who’s winning at the moment.”

“Don’t get discouraged,” Luc said, his good humor already returning now that they were free of the stuffy chambers of the palace. “Bickering is part of the process. The longer the parties talk, the longer before we have to fight again.”

“So which is it you want, Luc?” his friend asked. “Battle or no battle?”

Luc said, “Peace is always better than war. The king doesn’t want to prolong this conflict. It’s costly, both in coin and lives. Though there’s opportunity too, for those who are clever enough to see it.”

“You should be ashamed to think that,” Octavian said. “War hurts all people, the innocent most of all. As a knight, you swore to protect the innocent.”

“So I do!” Luc protested. “But I’m not naive, either. I have to live in this world. Why shouldn’t I advance myself?”

Tav shook his head, and Luc sighed, saying, “We simply need to find a way to attain peace.”

“I heard nothing in the past fortnight to make me think the cousins will come to an agreement.” Tav looked downcast.

“No war lasts forever. Besides, what will you do once it does end? Return to the Holy Land?”

“I don’t know.” Tav said the words thoughtfully. He said everything thoughtfully. He was one of the most deliberate people Luc knew.

“Well, when the time comes, you’ll—”

The sound of a woman’s scream interrupted him. Both men fell silent for a moment, instinctively judging direction and distance.

“Around that corner?” Luc asked, pointing to the north.

Octavian nodded, his hand on the poniard at his waist. “Ready?”

“To protect the innocent? Always.”

Then the men both ran toward the sound.

* * * *

Domina flinched when Constance screamed again, the sound echoing through the narrow alleyway. She was as frightened as her maid was, though she tried to tamp down her panic.

The small group of rough looking men who had trapped them in the alley didn’t help her fight the fear. The poor light made it hard to see faces or even count the number of people in the blind alley. But at least four or five men blocked the way out.