Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
T he viscount's army rode out before sunrise. Cantia knew this because she had been awake all night, staring into the hearth of her bower and wondering how she was going to survive the rest of her life. It wasn't simply grief she felt. It was loneliness for her husband's presence. His clothes were still strewn around the room where he had last left them. An old pair of boots lay haphazardly at the side of the bed. She missed his teasing, his joy of life, and his tenderness when he touched her. She missed everything.
Hunt had slept in her bed, placed there by Myles an hour or two before dawn. The boy had fallen asleep in the knight's arms, sitting in the great hall with him and the other warriors and listening to them tell great stories of battle. It had been the perfect diversion for him and a chance for Cantia to collect her thoughts. But instead of bringing comfort, her thoughts turned dark and miserable. Life was an ugly thing now. If only for Hunt, she would have to do her best to struggle through it.
It was still dark outside when she watched the army depart from the bailey. There were a few soldiers left behind to man the gates and the watchtowers, but for the most part, the castle was empty. It was less than ten miles to the Dartford Crossing, an area once controlled by her father before his passing two years prior. Now the fiefdoms of Dartford and Gravesham had passed to the baronetcy of Gillingham and, consequently, Charles Penden. Someday they would belong to Hunt. She hoped he would be as fine a baron as his father would have been.
She remained in her chamber as the day progressed. Hunt ran in and out with George on his heels, hurting with his father's passing but displaying the resilience only children are capable of. Brac's death would not set in for a long time yet, when the days and months passed and Hunt realized his father was never coming home. That was the finality of death. Right now, it was a concept and nothing more.
Time seemed to have little meaning as the sun moved across the sky. Cantia's gaze was fixed outside of the lancet window, her thoughts lingering on the past where Brac was the center of her world. She was not yet ready to accept that her world was forever changed. Perhaps it was still too soon. Perhaps she was not a good, sensible wife in not accepting that change immediately. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was living in limbo, dulled by grief and uninterested in what went on around her.
Hunt's chamber was across the hall. The doors to both bowers were open, allowing the child to flow between the two. He was hungry at some point and Cantia left her chair to take him down to the hall to request food. The servants moved around her quietly, whispering in the shadows of their sorrowful lady. She knew that they were speaking of her in hushed tones and it inflamed her, but there was naught she could do about it. Most of the servants had been at Rochester since before she had arrived and they had watched her and Brac's life together. They knew how badly this was affecting her.
One of the older serving women finally took pity on her and took Hunt outside in the yard to play. Between Hunt's shouts and the dog barking, the hall was abruptly silent as soon as the child left the keep. It was, in fact, dissonantly quiet. Cantia sat at the table she had shared with Brac so many times, feeling his ghost all around her. Instead of comforting her, it brought anxiety. She fled the hall for the safety of her bower.
She had sought peace. Instead, she found even greater ghosts. In the large chamber she had once shared with her husband, the sensations were heady and cloying. The room smelled of him and she couldn't shake the sensation of desolation. She had tried so hard to keep the agony at bay, but it was stronger than she was. It began to overtake her. Small sobs turned into body wracking sobs, which transformed into physical pain. Eventually there was so much pain that she couldn't stand it. Gasping for air, she caught sight of the small, lady-like dagger that Brac had purchased for her when he had visited York. It sat with some of her other valuables on her dressing table. She stumbled over to it, picking it up to examine the delicately bejeweled handle, remembering how Brac had taught her how to wield it.
Sobbing, she dragged the razor-sharp tip across her wrist lightly. It was enough to create a small red line across her flesh. She had hardly felt it. She wondered if a deeper cut would hurt more. She wondered if Brac would be angry with her for being so weak.
She pointed the tip at her wrist again. At the precise moment she planned to thrust it deep, a herald sounded from the parapet of Rochester's walls and the small crew of soldiers began to run about in a frenzy. The noise distracted her. Cantia forgot about the dagger and went to the window, watching the returning army approach from the west. The sight should have brought her joy, but it did not. The last time the army returned, it was with Brac's body.
She went back and found the dagger.
*
The contingent holding the bridge at Dartford had been considerably larger this time around. Consequently, there were quite a few injured, some of them severely. The battle had been brutal and close-quartered, hand-to-hand combat that had exhausted everyone.
The returning army made haste to get inside the ward of Rochester so that the gates could be closed and fortified. A few hundred exhausted men functioning as archers were sent to the walls. Rochester was under lockdown with the opposing army on the approach. A battle was in the air, though the men in charge of Rochester's defenses were confident in her abilities to hold fast. No one had ever breached her.
Myles had command of the walls, while Simon Horley had charge of the ward and men on the ground. Charles wandered between the two locales creating more trouble than helping. The man still wasn't right in the head and most everyone ignored him. But the command of Rochester had to be divided because Tevin was else occupied. Val had been knocked from her charger and had taken a serious blow to the ribs. Tevin had carried his sister, literally, the entire way back to Rochester. He was, at the moment, only concerned for her and little else. He had to trust the defense of the castle to his dependable men.
The great hall was quickly transformed into a surgeon's ward, though they had no surgeon. Cantia had always performed most of the healing duties with the exception of when she gave birth to Hunt and Brac had summoned a physic from Canterbury. Even then, she thought to tell the man how to do his job because healing was a skill she had worked to acquire. When Tevin burst into the hall supporting an injured knight, the servants moved into action. It took some coaxing, but they managed to take the wounded comrade from the viscount and lay him upon the ground. The next step was to find Lady Penden.
When the servants vacated in search of water, medicaments and the lady of the keep, Tevin was left crouched next to his sister. He tried to remove her mail but didn't get very far. He had to lift it over her head but couldn't manage to do so without causing her excruciating pain. So he gave up for the moment, waiting for Lady Penden to appear. Several long minutes passed until his anxiety was at a splitting level. He could no longer wait. He turned to go and find the lady himself but ran straight into Hunt.
The boy had been standing silently next to him, a wooden cart in one hand and something that looked like a toy ballista in the other. His blue eyes were wide on the knight lying on the floor.
"Ith he hurt?" he asked.
Tevin nodded. "Aye," he didn't want to have a conversation with the boy. He wanted action. "Where is your mother?"
"In her room," the lad replied. "How bad ith he hurt?"
"Bad enough," Tevin snapped before thinking. He saw Hunt's expression at his tone but he could not manage to calm himself. "I must go find your mother."
"She hath locked the door," Hunt said, almost casually. Then his voice picked up. "Do not worry. We shall give the knight a grand funeral if he dies."
More wounded were being brought in all around them. The more serious were placed near the hearth, while those who were still conscious were moved to the walls to be out of the way. Tevin left the boy standing there and made his way to the narrow stairs that led to the third floor. Just as he mounted the bottom step, a frail-looking servant came barreling down as if to knock him down. The old woman's face was taut.
"My lord," she said. "The lady… she does not answer. Her door is locked and I cannot get in."
Tevin did not understand why that was so urgent, but he moved around the woman and took the stairs to the next level. There was a small landing and two doors. One was open, with a small bed inside and toys strewn about. A big yellow dog lay sleeping on the bed. Tevin tried to lift the latch of the second door, which was indeed locked.
"She never locks her door," the worried servant was behind him. "She was weeping this morn… I am afraid for her, my lord. She's not been right since the lord passed."
That was Tevin's first inkling as to why the servant seemed to be so worried. It also clarified the boy's statement of the mother's door being locked. He rattled the door latch.
"Lady Penden?" he called gently. "Please open the door. We have a good deal of wounded that require your attention."
He received no reply. Rattling the lock once more, he again spoke softly, asking her to come forth. Still no answer. When the servant began to whine with fear, he took action. There was no time for pensive ponderings or sweet pleas. Something was wrong. Even if there was not, the lady was required in the hall and he would not tolerate her stubbornness.
Tevin was a broad man; though he may not have possessed the lanky height that Brac had, he was nearly twice as wide. The width of his shoulders was the first thing anyone noticed about him. Lowering a massive shoulder, he took a large lead before ramming the left side of his body into the door. The panel creaked and shook, but remained fast. Standing back, he lashed out an enormous booted foot and kicked the latch. The iron twisted. With another kick, it bent further and splintered the wood around it. Tevin gave one last kick, with a grunt this time, and the door swung open.
The room was large and cluttered, but comfortable. Tevin's dark eyes darted around the room in search of the lady, finally coming to rest on a titian-colored head on the opposite side of the bed. He rounded the furniture, seeing that Lady Penden was sitting upright on the floor, leaning against the bed. Her head was down, staring at her lap. She was unmoving, like stone.
That was enough for Tevin. With a growl, he chased the vexed servant from the room. He did not want anyone else to view the scene.
When the damaged door slammed shut and they were alone, he knelt beside her, trying to assess her state. With all of his other worries, he could have easily become angry that she had added to them. But all he could manage to feel at the moment was extreme concern.
"My lady?" he said quietly. "Can you hear me?"
Her luscious reddish-brown head bobbed slightly. Her hair was askew, covering her features. "Are you injured?" he asked gently.
After an eternal pause, she shook her head sluggishly. "I could not do it."
He barely heard her. "Do what?"
Her head came up then, the lavender eyes red from crying. There was such pain in the cool depths that it literally reached out to strike him. Then he noticed the dagger in her hand. Tevin gazed back at her, realizing what she meant, feeling more horror and guilt than he had ever imagined possible. He reached down and tossed the dagger to the other side of the room. An examination of her wrists showed that she had slightly cut herself across one of them, hardly enough to draw blood. But the intent was obvious.
"No, no…," he murmured. His self-control, fed by his emotions, left him and he encircled her in his massive arms. "No, my lady, not like this. You will not meet your end like this."
She was tense in his embrace, stiff as he held her. But after a moment, it was as if all of the sorrow and confusion she was feeling suddenly vanished when she realized that warm, comforting arms held her. Her arms went around his neck and horrid, deep sobs bubbled out of her chest. Tevin held her so tightly that he was sure he was crushing her. He felt so horribly guilty that this woman felt she had no hope, no comfort, and nothing left that death was her only escape. He shouldn't have felt responsible, but he did.
She wept like a child as he held her. Though Val was downstairs and in need of help, Tevin felt that he had to spare these few moments for Lady Penden. He'd spared her little else.
"I am so sorry," Tevin whispered into her hair, not knowing what else to say. "I do not know much, my lady, but I do know death. I have seen much of it. All I can tell you is that this too shall pass, and these dark days will seem less so. You have your son and a host of knights that serve only you. I know that we are a weak substitute for your husband, but we nonetheless support you. The sun will shine again, my lady. You must have faith."
She couldn't answer. Everything from the past few days was coming out in torrents of grief. Tevin let her cry, hoping he was at least bringing some comfort by simply being there. He tried to ignore the growing sensation of the pleasant feel of her in his arms. Since that moment when he'd seen her at the chapel yesterday, he'd done nothing but think on her. He'd known other women. He'd even married one. But he couldn't ever remember a woman that stuck with him the way Lady Penden did. She had a nameless charm that went beyond normal attraction. He was starting to feel like a fiend.
He ended up sitting on his buttocks with the lady clutched against him until the tears would no longer come. It really hadn't been that long, but to him, it had seemed like an eternity of warmth and compassion. Even when she was silent and quivering, he continued to hold her. It began to occur to him that he wanted nothing more at this moment than to hold her. But that was wrong, and his conscience wreaked havoc within his mind. Had his motives been pure, he would not have been so torn. The fact that he felt guilty for holding her told him that his motives went beyond normal comfort. He was finding some distorted gratification in it. He liked it.
"My lady," his lips were against the side of her head. "I realize that this is more than likely not the most opportune time to speak on this subject, but we have many wounded in the hall that require attention. Though we can hardly expect our needs to supersede your own, I would consider it a personal favor if you could find the strength to tend the men. They are in great need of you."
Her arms were still around his neck, her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. When she lifted her head to look at him, Tevin felt a jolt run through him as their eyes met.
"How selfish of me." Unhappily for him, she slowly unwound her arms from his neck. As he watched her, she struggled for composure. "Your men are injured and all I can do is think of myself. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive."
She smiled weakly. "I doubt that is the case, but you are kind to say so." She wiped at her face, erasing the last of the tears. "I am not usually the dramatic type, but it seems that all you have witnessed since coming to Rochester are dramatics and hysterics."
It was an effort for him to keep his hands to himself. She was so deeply filled with sorrow and his natural compassion begged to wipe away a tear, or squeeze her hand to ensure some measure of comfort. But he would not. He'd done more than he should have already.
"As I told you yesterday, there is no need for any apology," he said quietly. "You and your family have suffered a great loss. Your grief is natural."
Her lavender eyes grew steady. As he watched, she seemed to draw on the last reserves of strength she must have held. But it was a fragile composure. "Grief, indeed. But madness… surely there is no excuse."
She suddenly stood up, prompting him to also rise. The contrasts in their sizes were pronounced. Tevin was easily twice as wide as the diminutive lady and a head and a half taller. It seemed that she had something more to say to him but could not seem to bring forth the words. After a moment, she simply moved for the door and he followed. But she abruptly paused before opening it and he nearly ran into the back of her.
"May I ask a question, my lord?" she asked.
He was hesitant. The last time she asked a question, he divulged details that had almost driven her to insanity. But he nodded. "Aye."
"Have you ever lost someone close to you?"
"Many people, my lady."
"May I ask who?"
"My father, my uncle, my older brother."
"In battle?"
"I lost my father and brother in the same battle."
She digested those facts. "When you said that these dark days will pass… will they indeed?"
He nodded, slowly, his dark eyes studying every curve, every delightful contour of her face. "They will appear less so in time."
"It does not seem like it."
"I know. But you must trust me."
She took a deep breath, for strength and for courage, and lifted those magnificent eyes to him. "Your comforting presence has meant more than you can know to me and my family and to that end, I am eternally grateful. To thank you seems wholly insufficient."
He smiled weakly, feeling humbled. "Your thanks is more than adequate, I assure you." Then his smile faded. "But you must promise me one thing."
"Anything, my lord."
He began to look around as if he'd lost something. Cantia watched as he took a few steps towards the massive wardrobe and reached down to collect the dagger he had thrown. His dark eyes were fixed on her.
"You will never try anything like this again."
She nodded, embarrassed and ashamed. Opening the chamber door, they made their way down to the hall in complete silence.
Tevin didn't take any chances. He kept the dirk.
*
Though there were others who were more severely wounded, Cantia's first patient was Val simply because she happened to be the closest to the door. It took Cantia a matter of seconds to figure out that Val was, in fact, a woman, and her features registered the surprise.
But she said nothing as she examined the patient, determining that she had a few broken ribs and a broken collarbone. Tevin held his sister steady as Cantia and a serving woman bandaged up the ribs and then secured the left arm into a permanent, wrapped position so that the collarbone would heal. It was a relatively simple procedure that had taken less than an hour. But the relief Val, and Tevin felt, was immeasurable.
Cantia had Val moved into the small solar, away from the bulk of the wounded, for the sheer fact that she was female. It was not proper for her to convalesce in a room full of men, even if the woman was dressed like a knight. Oddly enough, Cantia asked no questions of Tevin as to the identity of the female knight. She simply accepted it on face value and moved on to her next patient.
Though Tevin's attention was focused on settling his sister, he could not help but be distracted by Lady Penden as she moved among the wounded. He was impressed by the fact that she was able to put the needs of others over her formidable grief. It must have been exceptionally wrenching for her to tend men with arrow wounds, knowing her husband had died days earlier in the same manner. But she said nothing, focused on helping those who needed her. From what he'd seen over the past few days from her, he'd expected nothing less.
Tevin eventually accompanied Val into the solar and saw to her comfort there on a bed that the servants had placed near the fire. He was glad that the result of her having been slammed off her charger was just a few cracked bones. In the heat of the battle, it could have been much worse. Val had been given a brew of willow bark that eventually caused her to drift off to sleep somewhere near dusk, at which time Tevin left her alone. He had many others wounded and would use the time to see to them.
The great hall was darkening as evening fell. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, sending ribbons of smoke into the air. As Tevin entered the hall, the first thing he saw was Hunt and his big yellow dog sitting near the fire. The boy had a big piece of bread in his hand and the dog licked at the crumbs on the floor.
"My lord," Simon Horley somehow had snuck up behind him and he'd never heard him. "How fares Val?"
"She is sleeping," Tevin replied. "Do you have a casualty report?"
"Nine dead, twenty-seven wounded," Simon replied. "Considering the fierceness of the battle, I had expected worse."
Tevin nodded. "Is everyone attended to?"
"Aye," Simon replied. "Your knights are in the knight's quarters, awaiting your debriefing."
Tevin usually gave a small talk after every battle. It was usually to discuss the battle as a whole, how well it was managed, and if there could be any improvements made with skill or manpower or weapons. But tonight, he didn't feel much like talking about it. Perhaps it was because he had been preoccupied with Val, or perhaps it was because he was too spent. The past few days had been inordinately draining, both physically and emotionally.
"Tell the men to get some rest and we shall speak on the morrow," he said. "I shall sleep with Val in case she needs anything."
Simon nodded. "Very good, my lord."
With a wave of his hand, Tevin dismissed him. At some point, he realized that Hunt was walking over to him, winding his way amongst the wounded on the floor. The yellow dog followed behind. When Hunt reached him, he stood there looking up at him, chewing on his bread.
"Are you hungry?" the child asked.
Tevin shook his head. "Nay, boy. I am here to look after my wounded."
Hunt took another big bite of bread. "Mam already did that."
"Where is your mother?"
"In the yard."
Tevin nodded his thanks for the information and proceeded to the exit of the keep. The kitchens and yard were on the opposite side of the bailey. It took him a moment to realize that Hunt and the dog were trailing after him.
"I thaw the dead men," Hunt said as they crossed the dusty ward. "Are you going to give them grand funerals?"
Tevin looked down at him, a disapproving expression across his brow. "Why did your mother allow you to see dead men?"
Hunt had finished his bread, but there were crumbs all over his face. He gazed up at Tevin with blue-eyed innocence. "They were in the ward. I thaw them. One of them had arrowth sticking out of him."
Just like Brac. Tevin didn't know what to say so it was best that he say nothing. As they neared the kitchen enclosure, he spied a few women in the yard, bent over a large iron cauldron. It was steaming furiously and they were removing pieces of cloth from the boiling brew with big sticks. Even in the darkness of the bailey, he could see great clotheslines of boiled rags strewn all over the yard.
As he stood at the threshold to the enclosure, Cantia suddenly emerged from the warm, moist kitchen with a tray in her hands. She spoke to the servants stirring the pot, asking them to add more lye to the mixture. The bandages were for the wounded and she wanted to make sure that they were clean. Then she spied Tevin and Hunt at the yard gate.
"My lord," she headed straight for him. "I was just coming to find you. I thought perhaps you might like something to eat."
As Tevin gazed at her, he quickly realized one thing; he was glad to see her. "And I was coming to find you to discover the state of my wounded," he said steadily.
"Perhaps we should go into the keep and discuss it while you eat."
He merely nodded, allowing her to lead the way. Hunt raced to his mother's side, holding her hand as they retraced their steps across the bailey. Tevin followed along behind, his eyes alternately scanning the ward and scanning Cantia. He tried not to watch her, the smooth sway of her slender backside, instead focusing on their surroundings. It had long been a habit, as it was the habit of most knights, to be constantly aware of his surroundings. Threats often lingered in the shadows. But no threat this night could capture his attention more than Cantia's graceful figure.
Somewhere during the day, she had donned a heavy linen apron and tied a kerchief around her head to keep her gorgeous hair out of her eyes. The garments were simple, course even, but she still wore them like a goddess. The woman could wear nothing that made her look bad. But more than that, her spirit seemed much improved. She had greeted him with a clear, even expression and had even smiled, however faint. He was pleased to see that she appeared in a better state of mind.
Entering the cool, dark keep, she took the food into a small alcove directly off the entry. It was barely large enough for three people, but there was a small table and an even smaller hearth that smoked and sparked as she set the food down. Tevin stood just outside of the doorway until he realized that she wanted him to come in and sit down. He did so, silently, as she removed the cloth covering the contents of the tray. A large piece of bread, butter, a pitcher of wine and a knuckle of beef await him.
"I thought you said you weren't hungry," Hunt was standing beside him, puzzled, as he eyed the food.
He looked at the boy. "Your mother had gone to much effort to feed me. The least I can do is eat."
Hunt looked up at his mother. "I'm hungry, too."
She put her hand on his head. "You ate enough for three people earlier this eve."
"But I'm still hungry!"
Before Cantia could reply, Tevin tore his bread in two and handed the boy a chunk. "Here."
"Butter, too?"
Tevin indicated the butter and knife, to which Hunt helped himself generously. The lad pulled up a chair and sat next to Tevin, eventually picking at the beef knuckle. Cantia pulled his hand back the first time he tried.
"Nay, Hunt," she admonished. "This is his lord's meal. Consider yourself honored that he has shared his bread with you. Do not ask for more."
Tevin tore a big piece of beef off the bone and handed it to the boy. His dark eyes looked up at her. "The worst I can tell him is no. There is no harm in asking for more. Most ambitious men do that, and then some."
She smiled, properly contrite. She put her hands on Hunt's little shoulders. "Thank you for being so kind to him."
Mouth full, Tevin watched Hunt stuff his mouth with the beef. "He is easy to be kind to. You have raised your son well."
"Thank you," she said softly. "His father deserves a good deal of the credit."
Tevin's gaze returned to her, watching a melancholy cloud suddenly drift across her face. He moved to another subject quickly. He said the first thing than came to mind.
"Cantia," he said, pouring himself more wine. "That is an unusual name."
She struggled not to linger on thoughts of Brac, focusing on Tevin's statement instead. "It is the ancient name for Kent."
"Your family has been in Kent for many generations?"
There was a small three-legged stool in the corner and she pulled it near the table, sitting. "For hundreds of years. In fact, my family had a very specific role in the ancient Kingdom of Kent, something that still carries through to this day."
"What is that?"
She looked at him, her lavender eyes reflecting the weak firelight. "The firstborn female in my family always married the heir to the throne of Kent. Though the nobility title was passed down through the males, the first born female had the most important role. When William le Batard conquered these shores in the days of my grandfather, our role became no less important. But because there is no future king of Kent, I have married into the Stewards of Rochester, traditionally the family that serves the king as the protector of the throne."
Tevin realized he was watching her mouth as she spoke. It was delightful and captivating. He further realized that she had the same lisp that her son had, though it was barely detectable. He'd never noticed before, but it was something that made her all the more charming. He shoved another piece of meat into his mouth, praying his growing interest in her wasn't obvious.
"Most interesting," he said. "In that respect, your family and mine share something in common. We are both of noble lineage predating William's conquest."
"May I beg you to tell me of your family's line, my lord?"
He swallowed the bite in his mouth. "It is rather complicated, but suffice it to say that my grandsire, several generations back, was the second son of the last king of East Anglia. My father held the title Viscount Winterton, heir apparent to the Earldom of East Anglia."
"How are you related to the seated Earl of East Anglia, then?"
"Geoffrey de Gael, the current earl, is my cousin. My father's mother was Geoff's father's sister. My father inherited the heir apparent title through his mother, as the next eligible male in the line. When he died, I inherited it."
"I see," she nodded thoughtfully. "Noble lineages are often very confusing. For example, there is no seated Earl of Kent, which is why I married the stewards of the ancient throne."
"I know."
He understood the progression of lineage better than she did but he found it rather touching that she felt the need to explain her position as if he would not have understood the workings of Anglo-Saxon nobility. Reflexively, he smiled at her and she smiled back. It brought him such a feeling of warmth that he just as quickly quelled the gesture by shoving more food in his mouth.
"Something to consider now is the fact that your son has inherited any titles that your husband may have held." He couldn't believe he'd brought Brac into the conversation when he'd tried so hard to keep away from the subject. He watched her reaction carefully.
Surprisingly, she didn't seem to dampen. She merely nodded her head. "Charles holds all of the titles for the time being," she said. "Hunt will inherit them upon his death."
"Speaking of which, where is Charles?"
She shook her head. "I've not seen him all day. But I am sure he is well, else we would have heard otherwise."
Tevin eyed her as he finished the remainder of his beef. "You do not get on well with him, do you?"
She shrugged, careful of what she said with little ears present. "We have always accepted one another."
Tevin let it go. He could see there was more to it but it frankly wasn't any of his business. He turned back to the remainder of his food, nodding his head in thanks when Cantia poured what was left of the wine into his cup.
"What is to happen now, my lord?" she asked as she reclaimed her stool. "Are there to be more battles?"
Tevin drained his cup, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I do not know, my lady," he said honestly. "Since Rochester is closer to Dartford than my own castle, I suspect I will stay here for the time being to protect the crossing. Beyond that, however, I do not know."
"Do you not have a family that will miss you?" she asked. "Perhaps you should bring them here for the duration of your stay."
He looked at her, strangely startled by the question. It was a personal inquiry, though he could see by the look on her face that she'd not meant it as such. For the first time since he'd met her, he actually felt uncomfortable.
"No need," he said shortly, wanting very much off the subject. He abruptly stood up. "My lady, I thank you very much for the meal and conversation. If it would not be too much to ask, I would visit the wounded and be apprised of their conditions."
He seemed edgy and Cantia stood up with him, wondering what she said to upset him so. Without another word, she led him out of the alcove and into the great hall, full of miserable men lying upon the floor. It smelled of smoke and blood.
As they visited the wounded one by one and discussed their condition, Tevin found himself paying more attention to the sheer grace and beauty of the lady rather than listening to what she was saying. Too soon, they were finished discussing the condition of the men and their purpose for conversation was over. It was growing late.
"If there is nothing else, my lord, then I shall put my son to bed," Cantia said, glancing over at the boy as he inspected a soldier with a splint on his leg. "It has been a busy day for him."
Tevin nodded. "I thank you for your attention to my men." He eyed her as she bowed slightly to him, to excuse herself, and moved away. "My lady?"
She paused. "Aye, my lord?"
"Will you be all right tonight?" he lifted an eyebrow. "Should I check on you later to make sure?"
She knew what he meant and her embarrassment returned. She averted her gaze. "I will be quite well, my lord," she assured him softly. "Moreover, you took the only weapon I had."
"You can always obtain another one if the will is strong enough."
She shook her head, firmly. "No need, my lord. But I thank you for your concern."
Taking Hunt by the hand, she quit the hall with the big yellow dog in tow. Tevin swore that when she left, all of the light went out of the room.
*
Cantia awoke on the floor of her bower. The bed was right over her head but she realized that she couldn't bear to sleep on it any longer. The bed reminded her of her husband and it brought more distress than she could handle to sleep upon it. So she had slept on the floor, just as she had done since his death. She didn't know if she would ever be able to sleep on the bed again.
She was slow to rise and even slower to dress. Shades of dawn were beginning to spread across the sky, growing brighter by the moment. But Cantia saw no magic in the sunrise. The last time she had gazed upon such a thing had been the day her husband had perished. She did not believe she would ever be able to gaze upon another sunrise as long as she lived and not think of that ominous morning.
After a brisk wash in the rosewater that the old servant woman had brought her, she donned a simple blue sheath and surcoat, securing it fast with a black broadcloth girdle. She rightly suspected she would be busy with wounded for the day and did not want to muss a finer garment.
Securing her magnificent hair in a thick braid that draped over her shoulder, she gazed at herself in the polished bronze mirror and thought that there was something different about her this morning. She didn't look like a happy young girl any longer. She looked like a woman whose grief had matured her. She stared at herself until tears came to her eyes and then she put the mirror down. She couldn't bear the reflection any longer.
Hunt was in the small landing outside when she came out of her chamber. He had his toys spread out all over the landing and top stairs, something that Brac had repeatedly admonished him against. Cantia found herself doing the same thing. Hunt made the effort to put a couple of wooden soldiers back in his room but then he began begging for food. Taking her son down to the living level, she passed by the solar on her way to the great hall and caught a glimpse of bodies in the small room. Pausing, she peered inside.
The lady knight was on her cot, sitting up against the wall. The lady knight looked at Cantia, nodding her head slightly as their eyes met. Cantia was about to say something to the women when movement caught her attention further off to her right. She had to step into the room to see who it was.
Charles Penden sat at the large table so often used by his son over the course of the years. She'd not seen the man for two days and now, he had appeared. He looked disheveled and she could smell his stench from where she stood. When his gaze found her, she instinctively tensed. She did not like the expression on his face.
He grunted at her. "This is not an infirmary," he said. "Move this woman out."
It was an order. Cantia's mood was rapidly darkening. "She is injured. It would be painful and difficult thing to move her to the upper floors. 'Tis best that she recuperates down here where she can be watched with the rest of the wounded."
She wasn't being combative in the least, but Charles flew out of his chair and grabbed her by the neck. Hunt was shoved back out of the way with his grandfather's swift moment, ending up on his backside. Startled, but not hurt, he burst into loud sobs.
Charles smelled of alcohol and sweat. His foul breath was in her face, his hand squeezing her neck. "I will not be challenged in my own house," he snarled. "You will do as I say or I will turn you out. Do you hear me?"
He was hurting her, but more than that, she was angry. "Let go of me," she hissed. "Have you gone completely mad?"
He struck her, then. Cantia's head jerked with the force and she could taste the blood in her mouth. Lifting her hand, she was fully prepared to strike back to defend herself when Charles suddenly grunted and fell backwards. Cantia pushed the hair out of her eyes in time to see Tevin descending on the old man, moving in for a mortal blow with his enormously balled fist. She shrieked.
"No," she grabbed his arm before he could strike again. "Please… no more, not in front of Hunt."
The little boy was crying loudly on the ground. Cantia went to her son and swept him into her arms, whispering comfort to him as Tevin, exerting the greatest self-control, stepped away from the sprawled old man. His dark eyes were as hard as obsidian as he gazed at her.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She nodded, more concerned for Hunt's state of mind than her own. But she tasted her blood and wiped at the trickle on her lip. "He did not hurt me."
Tevin lifted an eyebrow. His entire face was taut with rage, so much so that his flared nostrils were white. He looked back down at Charles, still in a heap on the floor.
"Next time," he growled at the old man. "I will kill you."
Hunt wailed louder. Cantia shushed him gently. "Please, my lord," she said to Tevin. "He… he is not himself. You must make allowances."
"I make no allowances for a man that would strike a woman," he said coldly. He stepped around Charles, circling him as a vulture would circle its prey. "You will remove yourself from this keep, Penden. I do not want to see your face again today."
Charles gazed up at him, his eyes red and unfocused. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and walk unsteadily from the room. He didn't even look at Cantia. When he was gone, Tevin and Cantia focused on one another.
"What happened that he would do that to you?" he demanded quietly.
Cantia opened her mouth, but the lady knight in the corner spoke first. "She did nothing, Tevin. He attacked her for no reason at all."
Cantia looked at the lady in the corner. She did not know what to say, ashamed that this stranger should witness such a scene. "He is not himself," she said with some remorse.
Tevin took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to get a better look at Charles' handiwork. Her lip was split, but she would heal. He held her face much longer than necessary, simply for the fact that he couldn't seem to let go.
"Has he done this before?" his voice was low.
She shook her head. "Never," she replied honestly. "Brac would have.…"
When she refused to finish, Tevin lifted an eyebrow at her. "What would he have done?"
She wasn't going to answer him, but he shook her chin gently to prod her. Eyes averted, he barely heard her words. "Brac would have killed him," she whispered.
Tevin let her go. Hunt was calming and she set the boy on his feet, wiped the remainder of his tears, and instructed him to go to the kitchens and get some watered wine for the lady knight. When the boy ran off with the dog close behind, she looked at Tevin.
"Charles was always a gruff, hard man, but he was never cruel," she said. "I fear that Brac's passing may have changed him. This madness shows no sign of letting up."
Tevin put his hands on his hips, his dark eyebrows furrowed for effect. "I'll not let him take his grief out on you if that is what you mean," he said. "If I have to lock him in the vault for the safety of you and your son, I shall do it without hesitation."
"I am sure there will be no more transgressions, my lord."
He just stood there, looking at her as if he didn't believe her. In the corner, the lady knight shifted slightly, grunting when her ribs pained her. It was enough of a noise so that Tevin and Cantia took their attention away from each other and focused on her.
"Are you in pain?" Tevin asked her.
Val tried to shrug, but with a broken collarbone, it was not a simple gesture. "As much as is to be expected, I suppose."
"I shall bring you more willow bark," Cantia turned for the door.
"Wait," Val stopped her. "Though I appreciate your kindness, my lady, that brew makes me exceedingly tired. I find the pain tolerable."
"As you wish, my la…lady."
Cantia wasn't quite sure how to address the lady knight and the room fell into an awkward silence. Tevin lifted his hand in Val's direction.
"Lady Cantia, this is my sister, the Lady Valeria du Reims," he introduced them. "I apologize that I am so late with introductions, but it did not seem the appropriate time yesterday. Please know that we are both very grateful for your delicate care of her injuries."
Cantia dipped her head in Val's direction. "A pleasure, my lady."
"My pleasure as well, Lady Penden. And my thanks."
Cantia gazed at the red haired lady knight, feeling foolish for staring at her and realizing that they both knew that she was staring at her. It wasn't hard to read her thoughts. Val smiled a toothy grin that was both impish and charming.
"I know, it's not usual to see a woman in armor," she said. "Blame my brother. He would swordplay with me as a child and I grew to love it."
Cantia looked at Tevin, an eyebrow lifted in mock reproach. "You turned this lovely woman into a warrior? How dastardly."
He pursed his lips, knowing this was a battle he could not win but willing to make the attempt. "Do not believe everything she tells you. I had no hand in this. She would blame me when the truth is that I cannot get rid of her."
As Val burst out in giggles, Cantia went on the attack, however in jest. "She should be married to a fine lord and have many children about her. Why are you so selfish that you would force her to bear arms? Haven't you enough men at your disposal that you do not need to force your sister into armed servitude?"
As Val hooted, Tevin threw up his hands as if to defend himself. "My lady, if you have any ideas on how to get my sister out of armor and into feminine garments, I am at your mercy. Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed."
Cantia fought off a grin, winking at Val as the woman stifled her snorts in her hand. "You are a wicked brother, my lord. See how your sister suffers because of you."
Tevin, too, was fighting off a grin. He simply shook his head and turned away knowing that any further words from him would only be twisted by Cantia's humorous tirade. On the other hand, he was perfectly willing to be a target if it would help her forget Charles Penden's brutality. Moreover, this was the first light moment they'd had since his arrival to Rochester. He was discovering that she had a delightful sense of humor.
Cantia, for her part, had indeed forgotten her cut lip. The levity of the moment was helping her mood for the first time in days. And she was pleased to see that the viscount also possessed a sense of humor, a surprising factor given the man's warring nature. As he walked away from her, smirking, she found herself admiring his broad back. It was a rather nice back. But the uninvited thought shocked her, sickened her, and she abruptly lost her humor. She suddenly felt very ill at ease, desperate to get out of the room and away from the inappropriate thought that had unexpectedly entered her mind.
"I will fetch your meal, my lady."
Val watched her nearly run from the room, her own humor fading at the swift departure. She looked at Tevin, who himself had only caught the tail end of Cantia's garments as she fled from the door. He met Val's gaze.
"Why did she leave so swiftly?" he asked.
Val shook her head. "I do not know."
Tevin nodded his head, wondering if he should go after her. Val, not surprisingly, could read it in his eyes. And having known her brother her entire life, she could read something else, something she had never seen before. But just as quickly, she chased those thoughts away. It was impossible. Still…
"Why don't you go after her," she suggested, watching his expression carefully. "If we somehow offended her, then we should apologize."
Tevin didn't say a word. He merely nodded his head and left the solar. Val sat there for several long moments, entertaining thoughts that she had never before considered. There had never been any need. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought her brother held some interest in the lovely, grieving Lady Penden. For Tevin's sake, she sincerely hoped not.
Tevin caught up to Cantia just as she exited the keep into the kitchen yard. Dogs scattered in front of her and much activity went on all around them. Hunt was running in her direction, splashing the contents of the wooden pitcher he held, and Cantia directed her son to take the liquid to the lady knight. As the boy ran on, Tevin came up beside her.
"Is something amiss, my lady?" he asked.
Startled at his voice, she nearly tripped on her skirts. He had to grab her to keep her from falling. "Nay, my lord," she said.
"You left rather quickly. We were afraid we had offended you somehow."
So she had made a fool of herself yet again. Cantia thought she was the only one who had noticed her swift flight. It seemed that all she did was make a fool of herself in front of her liege. Gazing up into his dark eyes, she began to feel extremely foolish.
"Of course you did not," she said. "You could not possibly do anything to offend me. Even if you did, I would forgive you. But I am truly sorry if I seemed rude or abrupt. I did not mean to."
Tevin gazed into her beautiful face, feeling a pull he'd never felt before. It was enough to seriously disturb him, for whatever pity or compassion he had been feeling for the lady over the past few days was transforming into something that seemed to be affecting his mind as well as his tongue. He should have fought it with all his strength, but at the moment, he couldn't seem to. All he knew was that any time he spent with Lady Penden, however brief or trivial or emotional, was unlike any time he'd ever spent before, with anyone.
"Say no more," he said. "As long as all is well, I shall leave you to your duties."
She nodded, watching as he excused himself. Cantia stood there a moment, observing his powerful form stroll across the yard and back into the keep. She'd never seen a man move with such strength before, with such commanding presence. It was interesting to compare it to Brac's presence, which was by far more relaxed and easy. Brac had never radiated the power that Tevin did. It was curious. Turning for the kitchen once again, she went about her business with a good deal on her already-strained mind.