Rose Victory - Eagle Series (5 page)

The earl looked up startled.  He had
been fully immersed in acquainting himself with the details of the betrothal contract and had not even noticed Stefan’s approach, let alone the hungry people who awaited his leave to fill their bellies.  He signalled the head server to begin the meal and turned to his friend.  “I am looking over my betrothal contract.”

“
Your betrothal?”

Roydon had not noticed his squire
either, who now stood open mouthed, beside Stefan.  He nodded curtly at the boy but did not reply, as he rose and led the way to the Lord’s Table.  Behind him he heard Ivan trying to wheedle answers from an uncooperative Stefan.

Finally seated at the table, the earl turned a cold stare on the boy.  “You forget your duties, Ivan.  My cup is empty.”

“I beg your pardon, my lord!”  Ivan leapt forward to fill his lord’s goblet with ale from a pitcher on the table, his face a picture of curiosity, alarm and shame.

Roydon took pity on him.  “We leave for Northolt, stronghold of Lord Reinhart, in a few days.”

“We go to Rabid Reinhart’s castle?”  The squire almost dropped the pitcher he held, his face had gone deathly pale.

Sir Stefan cuffed him lightly on the side of the head.  “Mind your words, boy!  He is the
king’s earl, just like your master and he does not take kindly to that name.”

The blood returned with a vengeance to Ivan’s face.  “I am sorry, sir.  I meant no disrespect but why
…?”

Stefan’s attempt to control his features failed utterly, a grin broke through.  “Your master
goes to marry
Rabid
Reinhart’s daughter!”

Now it was Roydon who leaned across and cuffed his friend, and not lightly either. 
It was true that Reinhart was known by that name and rumours abounded, yet Roydon, who had met him on several occasions, had never seen any sign of viciousness from the man.  Cold, yes, hard and unbending too; he ruled the north, in the king’s name, with an iron fist.

“
Forgive me,
Roy.  It was a jest in bad taste.”

The earl nodded at his friend and turned once again to his squire.  “We leave for the north as soon as I return from the mountain.  It will take at least a week to get to Northolt so pack my things accordingly and remember to take along something appropriate for the wedding.  We wouldn’t want to offend the earl or his daughter.”

“You are going up the mountain, Roy?”

Roydon nodded while he continued to eat.

“You will need an escort.  I will make arrangements.”

“No escort, Stef
.  I go alone.”

“But it is dangerous up there!”  The knight was deadly serious now.

“I go for the peace and the solitude; I want no guards disturbing me.  Besides I can take care of myself.  I have been up that mountain countless times and I will be back by tomorrow.

Sir Stefan shook his head unconvinced.  “As you wish
,” he conceded reluctantly.

“May I come with you, my lord?”  Ivan spoke from behind the earl’s chair.

Roydon debated for a moment, and then shook his head.  “Nay, maybe next time.  You have your orders.  Have everything ready, we leave the day after I return.”

The squire bowed his head.  “Yes, my lord.”

Satisfied, the earl returned to his meal, only to look up a moment later to see Brecov standing outside the estate chamber.  Beside him stood a short, young man, who stared at him as he turned the hat in his hands over and over.  The moment the man realised that the earl watched him, Roydon saw a blush suffuse his round face, even as he lowered his eyes in deference.

“There is something I must see to.”  Roydon rose from the table.  “Ivan, see to preparing a small parcel of food and a couple of blankets for me,” he ordered,
before he strode across the Hall towards Brecov.

“Is this your brother’s son,
Master Brecov?”

“Aye, my lord, Byran is his name
.”

“Rise, Byran.”  The earl spoke to the young man who had fallen to his knees at the
nobleman’s approach.

Byran rose but kept his eyes downcast, so that all that Roydon could see was a thatch of carrot orange hair and bright red ears.

“Follow me, Byran.  I would speak with you.”  Roydon turned and led the way to the hearth.  After a desperate glance at his uncle, the young man followed, until he stood head bowed before the earl.

“You have something to hide, Byran?  Something you are ashamed off?”

Startled green eyes looked up at the earl for a moment.  “No, my lord!”

“Then look at me.  I do not like to converse with a head of
hair,” the earl said lightly and smiled when Byran jerked his head up.  “Much better, now I can see who I am talking to.”

“I did not wish to offend, my lord.”

“You’ll not offend me by looking at me, Byran.  Although I concede that craning your head back so far is uncomfortable.”  The earl towered more than a foot and a half over the young man.

For the first time a smile flirted across Byran’s face, but he kept his eyes on the earl’
s face as the latter took a seat.

“Tell me about yourself,” Roydon leaned back in his chair.

Byran continued to demolish the hat he held in his hands.  “There is not much to tell, my lord.  I am a freeman, like my father, who holds a piece of land from your lordship.  I am the youngest of three brothers and have spent all my life helping to tend the land beside my father and elder brother.”

“Your other brother?”

“He chose to be a soldier, my lord.  He serves in your ranks.”

“I see,” Roydon stared intently at the man before him.  “From your words, I gather that soldiering is not for you, but then I think
that farming is not to your liking either.  Am I correct?”

Byran hesitated briefly, “Yes, my lord.  But how did you know?”

“You said that you ‘helped’ to tend the land, you disassociated yourself from it.  The words you use are important.”  Abruptly the earl changed the subject.  “Why are you here?  What did Brecov tell you?”

“He said your lordship wished him to have a helper and I would be grateful for the position, sir.”

“Is that all he said?”  Roydon cocked his head to one side, his dark eyes watchful.

Again Byran hesitated, as if unsure of how much to say.  “He also said that he thought you were going to replace him, my lord.”

“And if that were the case?” the earl challenged, his eyebrows drawing together.

Byran crushed the now useless
hat in his fist and bit his lip, but answered readily enough, a thread of barely concealed anger in his voice.  “That of course is your prerogative, my lord.  But my uncle is well and able to continue his duties and I would not accept the position if that is your intention.”  The young man squared his shoulders and looked the earl straight in the eye.  “I owe my uncle much and I would not betray him so.”

“Well said, Byran!
  I value loyalty above all else and you have proved yourself worthy.”  The earl’s face relaxed and Byran felt like he could breathe again, he did not know where he had found the courage to stand up to his lord.

“My intention is not to replace your uncle but to give him aid.  I want you to lighten his load.”  Roydon paused weighing his words.  “You will learn his duties and in the event he ever wishes to retire, and we find you worthy, you can take over the stewardship of Eagle Rock.  Do you accept the position?”

“Only when he wishes to retire?”

“That is so.  Master Brecov is a valued member of my household and I would not have it otherwise.”

“I will gladly accept the position, my lord.”  Byran’s face split into a wide grin, even though colour again suffused it.  “You have my deepest gratitude as well as my loyalty, sir.”

“I will accept nothing less than your full loyalty
, so be warned and do not sell me short.”  The earl rose, his face stern.  “Go now to Master Brecov and inform him of my decision.  He will give you your duties.”

“Thank you, my lord.”  Byran backed away and then nearly r
un across the Hall to the steward’s chamber.

“Here are the items you ordered, my lord.”  Ivan had been standing beside the earl’s chair for a while and now
he handed over a heavy satchel. There was a wistful look on his face.

“How much food have you put in here, Ivan?”
  Roydon slung the bag over his shoulder.  “I will only be gone for a day.”

“I thought I could come and
…”

“And I thought I had already given you your orders?”  The displeasure in the earl’s voice did not go unnoticed by the squire.

“Yes, sir.”  Ivan hung his head.  “I will have everything ready when you return”

“See that you do,” the earl said coldly, then he relented somewhat.  “I will take you up with me next time
.”

Roydo
n did not hear the boy’s reply; he already strode towards the door. The urgency he felt to start his climb, to ascend his mountain, a throbbing ache in his body as well as in his mind.

Something pulled at him, urged him on and he could not
understand or explain what was happening to him.  All he could see, at the back of his mind, were those golden eagle eyes beckoning him to follow. 

A feeling of
angry impatience swamped him the moment he stepped through the door.  At the bottom of the steps Stefan waited for him, already mounted. Beside him, a soldier held the bridle of one of Roydon’s horses. 

A frown marring his face, the earl descended the steep steps to the bailey.  “You are not coming with me
, Stefan,” he stated categorically, before his friend could utter a word.”

Stefan smiled easily.  “I wasn’t planning to.  I just thought to save you some walking and then bring your horse back.”

Roydon looked away disconcerted.  “Sorry,” he mumbled as he mounted his horse.  “I am not myself today.”

“Believe me, I have noticed!
  As have all the rest of your people.”  Stefan walked his horse towards the gate that gave access to the middle courtyard, abreast of the earl’s horse.  “What is going on, Roy?  I know you have reason to be upset but that does not explain your mood changes or this obsession you have with birds.”

“Not birds.  Just that eagle.”

“So you admit it.” There was a mixture of worry and confusion on Stefan’s face as he glanced at his friend.

The two men had
crossed the middle bailey and passed under the gateway through the thick walls that gave onto the outer bailey before Roydon answered.  “I know I have been behaving…strangely, but ever since I saw that eagle yesterday, I have had this urge, no compunction, to follow it; to go up the mountain.”  Roydon paused, as if unsure of how much to reveal, then he shrugged.  “It got even worse this morning when the bird challenged me to follow it.  I cannot get those golden eyes out of my head,” he admitted ruefully.  “There is a feeling of emptiness inside me, a desolation that I cannot explain.”

Another long silence ensured.  Stefan appeared to be trying to make sense of the earl’s words as they crossed the outer bailey
towards the fortress’s main gate.  

The huge gate stood open at this time of day, though heavily guarded, with the drawbridge down over the wide
, dry ditch that bordered the outer walls.  The powerful horses’ hooves pounded over the wooden drawbridge and onto the gravel path, which led down to the village, at the bottom of the mountain.

Stefan brought his horse to a halt.  “I do not think you should go up there by yourself Roy.”  There was deep concern
in his voice, as he waved up at the craggy slopes.

The earl shook his head.  “I’ll not do anything stupid, Stef.  You know me better than that.”  Roydon left the path and urged his horse up the steep incline
, riding parallel to the castle walls.  Stefan followed, his horse already finding difficulty in ascending the rocky slope.

The curtain wall disappeared into the three storey
East Tower, the back of which merged seamlessly into the side of the mountain.  Guards, high up on the battlements could be seen watching the riders.

His horse could take him no further.  Roydon dismounted and silently handed his friend the reins of his horse.  Then he stuffed his cloak into the satchel and pulled it over his shoulder.  Likewise he secured his sword at his back, so that it would not interfere with his climbing.  “I have done
this countless times, Stefan.”

“N
ot with an eagle calling you, you haven’t!”

Roydon turned away.  “I will be back tomorrow, my friend.”

“See that you are.  There will be hell to pay if I must come looking for you.”  Stefan saw the earl raise his hand in acknowledgement of his threat and then watched him disappear among the rocks and crags of Eagle Mountain.

Already he had been climbing for three hours and still the urge to go higher pushed at him.  The ascen
t became more difficult and dangerous the higher he went, for no path or even a goat track, broke the jumble of rocks and huge boulders that covered the mountain side.

Roydon’s hands, already covered in nicks and cuts from the sharp rocks, rested on his hips for a moment as he contemplated the interminable steep
, scree-covered slope before him.  He could see no other way up.  On either side steep, vertical cliffs rose sixty or seventy feet into the air, impossible to climb.

Roydon had never come this way before so he did not know what he would find at the top of the high slope.  Vaguely, in the lengthening shadows, he thought he could see a narrow ledge at the top
that disappeared to the right behind an enormous boulder, round the shoulder of the mountain.

He must be insane, he thought, to even contemplate going up that slope.  A slip, the slightest miss-step on the loose rubble and he would fall, God alone knew, how far down the mountain.  Roydon shook his head; he would go back down and find another way up.  The earl had already turned to return the way he had come, when the silence of the mountain, broken only by his own heavy breathing, was shattered by the cry of an eagle that circled the sky above him.

Instinctively, Roydon looked up knowing what he would see.  He had been right.  An enormous eagle,
his
eagle, circled a rocky crag up above and to his right.  He had no doubt whatsoever that this bird was the same one that had already challenged him twice before.  He felt the same possessive aggression that he had felt before.

“Mine”, Roydon utter the word aloud, the possessiveness in his tone shaking him.  This could not be
happening; he had to control this strange obsession.  A sane and logical part of his mind urged him to ignore all this, to go back down the mountain; to forget his nemesis.

Roydon had
barely taken a step back when another anguished cry from above froze him in mid-step.  The pain and desolation in the cry mirrored his own feelings, seeming almost human and it pierced straight to his soul.  The throbbing ache in his head became real pain and the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened in response to the pain and need he sensed in his eagle’s cry.

Without a second thought, Roydon turned back to the dangerous slope and started to climb.

Back muscles corded and straining, strong thighs pulling and flexing, heart pumping and perspiration soaking him, Roydon pulled himself up the treacherous slope.  Loose stones and rubble under his booted feet and clawing hands, threatened to dislodge him, to loosen his tenuous hold on the slope, as he crawled up the nearly vertical incline to the beckoning ledge; to the call of his eagle.

He made it
to the top with his last reserves of strength. Exhausted, Roydon collapsed on the narrow ledge.  Chest heaving, throat constricted, starving lungs bellowing their need for air, he rested.  As he lay there on his back, trying to regulate his breathing, a sane part of his mind berated him for his stupid, reckless action that could have resulted in serious injury, mostly likely death.  A slip, a loose stone, would have plunged him down the mountain to his death.  The climb had taxed him to his limit, not even the longest, most strenuous, deadly sword fight had ever brought him this close to total exhaustion.

Yet, another part of him exalted in his accomplishment, unmindful of the risk, of the consequences of failure.  Lying on that almost
nonexistent ledge, Roydon’s lips turned up in a reluctant smile.  He had never taken these kinds of senseless risks.  He had been a methodical and calculating commander in the king’s army, his strategies often labelled brilliant and innovative. But the risks had always been thought out and weighed carefully before execution.  This time all it had taken had been the cry of an eagle.  

At the reminder, the earl looked up at the sky, the bird had disappeared and with it the desperate pain in his head.  But the aching pull remained constant, still urging him to continue, to follow.  Wearily Roydon rose to his feet and carefully inched along the ledge to his right, his hands finding scant purchase on the vertical cliff that rose from his foothold.

He could not continue for much longer, soon darkness would cover the mountain and he had to find a place to spend the night before the dark mantle descended.

Squeezing between the cliff and the huge bolder on his right, Roydon
paused in surprise when he finally emerged from the narrow passage.

The ledge widened to an almost level shelf
.  Slowly Roydon walked across the wide, shallow bowl-like clearing; his footsteps soundless on the carpet of rough grass that fought to survive in the sparse soil that had accumulated on the rocky shelf.   The sound of water drew the earl towards the far end of the clearing where a stunted tree crowded the cliff face. Fighting for survival, it hugged the rocky wall as if seeking protection from the elements.  At the base of the tree a deep, natural pool had been formed by a trickle of water that cascade down the mountain.   Wonderingly, Roydon skimmed his fingers across the surface of the water.  It felt cold and refreshing on his heated skin; he couldn’t wait for its icy fingers to cool his sweating body.

Turning towards the cliff he deposited the satchel beneath a rocky overhang that extended
a few feet over the clearing, but still allowed him to stand upright under the massive outcropping of rock. 

The earl
then advanced to the rocky barrier that enclosed the clearing on the side opposite the cliff.  A parapet of knee high rocks that seemed almost man made gave way to…nothing. Below him, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet fell to the forested valley floor.  From this high the forest covered the ground like a huge mottled green carpet as far as the eye could see.  Closed in by the cliffs on either side, the clearing seemed a haven of peace in the middle of a hostile and savage environment.

Turning towards the overhang, Roydon hurried to unpack his satchel.  Taking out the cloak, he
then spread one of the blankets on the rough, springy grass, putting the other aside to use as a drying cloth.  Quickly he unstrapped his sword from his back and proceeded to disrobe.

The water looked cool and inviting as he walked towards it.  He had not been mistaken, after the hot, sweaty climb the cold
, deep water soothed his tired muscles and refreshed his clammy flesh.  Sitting back on the smooth stone at the bottom of the pool, after rubbing the sweat and dust away, Roydon at last relaxed.  The worries of the earldom, as well as the sadness and despair of his sire’s passing, were suspended for a moment as he allowed his head to rest against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.

Only the vague sensation of something missing, the knot of discomfort in the pit of his stomach remained and these he tried to ignore as he
allowed his mind to drift.

The frigid coldness of the water finally prompted him to leave the pool.  Stepping on to the grass, Roydon shook his head to rid his shoulder length hair of excess water.  Then he pushed it back and raised his strong, hard face
to look at the setting sun.  A sun that painted the sky a multitude of colours as it slowly sunk towards the horizon, its rays still had the power to warm his skin. 

So the earl stood, six feet s
ix inches of brawn and muscle, power and strength wrapped in golden skin.  Drops of water sparkled on his body and decorated his black mane and the dark stubble on his face.  The sun gilded the high cheekbones, the square, firm chin and aquiline nose beneath a wide brow and hooded ebony eyes.

A stark, piercing cry from above made him look up sharply.  His eagle had returned and now dove straight for him.  Roydon held his ground, his eyes locked on the bird, his heart pumping furiously.  This time, he knew, the animal would not break away.

Instinctively the earl raised his arms to protect his face and then, at the last moment, the eagle spread her wings wide to stop the forward momentum and landed gracefully on the rocky parapet not five paces from where Roydon stood.

The beautiful creature stared at the earl from unblinking, unafraid, golden eyes.  Eyes that were neither predatory nor savage, but curiously warm and intelligent.
  Seemingly totally unafraid, the eagle tucked in its wings and perched on the ledge.  The large, sharp, yellow talons, used to capture, carry and kill its prey, gripping the rock.

Dark brown feathers covered the
sleek body and long tail.  The sinking sun highlighted the golden feathers on the eagle’s head and neck a bright shining gold.

Never losing eye contact, the bird opened its strong, hooked beak and gave a harsh, sharp call.  Instantly a
flash of blinding white light seemed to burst from it.

Roydon
staggered back, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his eyes.  A moment later the light disappeared as if it had never been.  Uncovering his eyes, the earl looked for the eagle, but in its place stood a woman surrounded by the halo of the setting sun behind her.

Roydon stared in disbelief, unable to
accept the evidence before his eyes.  No one could have taken the place of the eagle in the scant second that he had had his eyes closed.  Certainly no unclothed woman!

The
explanation that his mind offered was no solution, but a blatant impossibility.  It could not be and yet…

Even as his mind staggered with the
incredible situation, his eyes scrutinized the woman standing proudly before him.  She stood tall and straight, unashamed of her nudity, yet a slight twinge of colour suffused her high cheekbones.  At nearly six feet, she was tall for a woman and well-built, with long, strong legs and dusky hued skin.  Beautiful golden hair cascaded down from her head, covering her almost to her thighs.  She could be no more than eighteen or nineteen years old.

Staring at the lady’s face,
Roydon would have described her as handsome, rather than beautiful.  Her chin was too square, too determined.  Her mouth too wide and generous, her eyebrows straight auburn slashes above…amazing eyes.

Amazing
golden eyes!  Large, almond shaped, golden eyes, surrounded by dark lashes.  Eyes that watched him unblinking, steadily.  Golden eagle eyes!

The earl
fell back another step, his mind unwilling to accept the evidence before him.  His eagle had transformed into a lady, for so her stance and poise proclaimed her.

Then a slight shiver shook her and her lips turned up in a smile, almost of surprise.  Roydon came out of his shock, his protective instincts for this lady just as strong, just as overwhelming as they had been for the eagle.  He still felt the desolation, the emptiness inside that had brought him to this place.  But now they centred o
n the lady standing a few paces away from him.  The attraction was almost uncontrollable.

Another slight shiver
from the lady brought Roydon to his senses.  Quickly he grabbed his cloak from the ground behind him and advancing towards his eagle lady, he arranged it gently around her shoulders and stepped back.  For the first time in his life he felt unsure, uncertain of what to do.  His body had no such doubts.  At that precise moment he realized that he too stood nude before her.

As if reading his thoughts the lady’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled with golden lights.  Roydon stared mesmerized, rooted to the spot, as the lady advanced towards him.  A feeling of expectancy griped him, his heart thundered like galloping hooves in his chest.

Still smiling, she reached him.  Slowly taking the sides of the cloak in her hands, she drew her arms up and around his neck, cocooning them in its warmth.  She looked up at him, a golden invitation in her eyes, her lips a succulent offering.

Roydon reacted immediately to what she so freely offered.  The moment his lips covered hers
, he felt the desolation in his soul disappear, the ache soothed, the emptiness in his heart filled with her touch.

“Mine!”  Roydon
spoke for the first time, the single word a demand or a plea, he knew not which.  His hands caressed possessively under the cloak.

“Yours,” the lady asserted without hesitation, drawing Roydon’s head down for another kiss that sealed her pledge.

The lady’s uncontested acknowledgement of his demand placated the possessive streak that Roydon had never encountered before when dealing with women.  Embracing her tightly, he lifted her into his strong arms and laid her gently on the blanket under the overhung and covered her with his warmth.

Roaming hands, sweet caresses, readied her and then gently, tenderly he claimed her.  His lady reached her pinnacle and then fulfilment came to Roydon
with a mighty roar that shattered the peace of the mountain, but brought peace and contentment to his soul.  He had come home, was his last waking thought, as he gently gathered his eagle lady to his side.

Twice more during the night, his lady roused him to receive his caresses, his ardour, his love
. 

His
Lady spoke to him after the last encounter, words he heard but did not comprehend.   They were words that his sated and exhausted body could not bring itself to understand in the darkness of the predawn.