Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

A thdara didn't even know where the chair came from.

The moment she and Marina walked into the tavern, a chair came flying at Marina, who slammed into Athdara, sending her sailing. She plowed into a man at a nearby table, almost toppling him, but he somehow managed to grab her and steady himself, keeping them both from crashing onto the floor. She ended up sitting awkwardly, her left arm around his neck while she gripped the table with her right hand. Suddenly, she was in his face, looking into the blackest eyes she'd ever seen.

Before she could speak, however, something heavy hit her in the back, and she grunted in pain as she plowed forward into the man.

This time, they both went over.

There was a massive fight going on behind them. Athdara didn't even know what happened to Marina, for the man she'd crashed into was lurching to his feet, taking her along with him. She ended up on her feet also, and stumbled away from the fight alongside him. It wasn't as if they were going to the same place, but they were traveling in the same direction so they wouldn't get hit again. They didn't stop until they were at the other end of the tavern. Only then did Athdara look at him.

"My deepest apologies, my lord," she said. "Did I hurt you?"

The man was brushing spilled drink off his tunic. "You did not," he said in a voice that sounded as if it rumbled up from his feet. "Are you injured?"

Athdara gingerly rotated her left shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the second hit. "I do not think so," she said, but she noticed that he had drink spilled all over him. "I am very sorry for your drink, my lord. Would you permit me to replace it? I would be most happy to."

Finished brushing at the stain on his chest, he looked at her, and Athdara was struck by just how truly handsome the man was. His dark eyes were set within a square-jawed face, mostly bearded, but she could see deep dimples in his cheeks when he spoke. His hair, long and dark, was tied at the back of his head. He was positively enormous and well-muscled and didn't look as if he belonged in a place like this.

There was something too pretty about him.

"That is not necessary," he told her. "No harm truly done."

"Except I spilled your drink," she pointed out. "If you do not let me replace it, I fear I shall feel terribly anxious. I might even weep."

She was trying to inject some humor because she was truly sorry at what had happened, but he looked at her strangely.

"Weep?" he repeated, puzzled. "Over this?"

She smiled weakly. "A jest, my lord," she said. "Unless the real threat of it will work as intended."

He stared at her, long and hard, before the corner of his mouth finally twitched. "If I told you again that it is not necessary, would you still feel anxious and weep?"

"Shall I demonstrate?"

He held up a hand, but the grin he was trying so hard to suppress broke through. "Nay," he said. "I believe you. If it will make you feel better, then I will accept your tribute."

Athdara smiled at him, something that looked like a coy and almost flirtatious gesture, before turning around and looking for the nearest table. "Here," she said, pointing to an empty table against the wall. "If you will sit, I shall bring your drink personally. May I bring food to you as well?"

He shook his head. "Nay," he said. "It is kind to ask, but the drink will suffice."

She darted off, and he watched her. She was dressed quite strangely, in a tunic and hose and boots, yet she wore a long, belted robe over the top of it. That wasn't what fine women usually wore, and by the looks of her, he'd never seen finer. In fact, that kind of beauty out in the wilds of Devon was quite shocking. Even more shocking was that she was tall and, from what he'd been able to gather when she bashed into him, strong and solid. That was no fine, tender lady.

That was something quite different.

She was also filthy, as if she'd been rolling around in the dirt. Her long, dark hair was braided, tied at the end with a leather strip that looked as if it came off a saddle. Everything about her screamed high breeding, but she wore the clothes of a pauper.

The more he watched her, the more intrigued he became.

Finally, the woman moved through the crowd, two cups of that strong ale in hand, toward the table where Tay was watching her. She had the grace of a cat, surefooted and fine. As she came near, a man at a nearby table made a grab for her. She was able to dart out of his way, but with her hands full, she was at a disadvantage. When the man made another swipe for her, she lifted one of those long legs and kicked him right in the head.

Those who saw the kick burst into laughter as the man lay on the ground, unconscious. But the lady seemed untroubled as she continued, right to the table, and set the two cups down.

"There," she said. "I hope this makes amends for my bad manners."

Truth be told, Tay was already pretty full of the strong ale. That made him consider things he wouldn't normally consider, like conversation with a woman he didn't know.

He sat back in his chair, partially in the shadows, his eyes glittering in the darkness as he looked at her.

"Sit," he finally rumbled. "I want to talk to you."

She looked at him with surprise. "You do?" she said. "Why?"

"Why not?"

She didn't have an answer for that. With a shrug, she sat down opposite him, and he pushed one of the cups toward her.

"It seems as if you've not had a pleasant experience since entering the tavern," he said. "Mayhap you need a drink more than I do."

Her gaze lingered on him a moment before, grinning, she picked up the cup and took a big swallow. It was very strong, and she made a face as it coursed down her throat.

"You would think that all the times I've had this drink, I would be used to the molten steel that pours down into my belly," she said, wincing. "Unfortunately, I am still not used to it."

"You have been here before?"

She nodded. "I have," she said. "You?"

"A few."

"Would it be too forward to ask your name?"

"Tay," he said. "And you?"

"Athdara," she said. "Tay is an interesting name. Where are your people from?"

He smiled faintly. "Tay is the name of a lake in Scotland," he said. "Do you not hear my Scots accent?"

"A little," she admitted. "You sound English."

"Do not let my father hear you say that."

"Is he the Scotsman?"

"He was," he said. "He died two years ago. Where do you come from, Athdara?"

She took another drink of the ale. "I was born near Flanders," she said. "Do I not sound like it?"

"A little," he said, his smile growing. "You are a long way from home."

"As are you."

"Did you come with your family?"

She shook her head. "I have no family," she said. "And you?"

"I have a mother and a younger brother," he said. "They live in the north, where my father's family is settled."

"Do you see them often?"

"Not too often. My mother tends my brother, who was born a cripple." He suddenly hesitated, realizing that the alcohol had made him quite chatty. But the truth was that she was easy to talk to when he lowered his guard. "I do not know why I told you that. I do not tell many people about my brother."

"Why not?" she said, interested. "It is clear to me that you care for your mother and brother. That is a fine quality."

He lifted an eyebrow. "How can you tell that? I've not said so."

She shrugged, a twinkle in her eye. "I can hear it in your voice," she said. "Your tone is soft. It is right and good that we love our family. I loved mine."

"You said you had none."

"They were murdered."

The conversation had taken an unexpected turn at that moment, and Tay could see the anguish in her face. She'd barely changed expression, but something in her eyes dulled. There was pain there.

Suddenly, the light flirtation grew serious.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice soft. "You do not have to speak on them. I will not ask."

The dull anguish in her eyes lifted a little as she forced a smile. "That is kind of you," she said. "Mayhap it would be better to speak of other things. Do you travel much, Tay?"

He shook his head. "Nay," he said. "I used to, but I grew weary of it."

"Then you live in Devon?"

"I do."

"In Exebridge?"

"Nearby."

"Are you a farmer, then?"

He laughed, revealing big teeth with slightly prominent canines. "God no," he said. "You could say that I am a… teacher."

Her face lit up. "How admirable," she said. "A tutor? You must be very educated."

"Educated enough."

"What is your favorite thing to teach?"

He looked at her for a moment, wondering how much to tell her. Blackchurch wasn't something that was really spoken of, and trainers certainly never bragged that they were employed by the guild. It was such a mysterious place that it was simply an unspoken understanding that no one walked about telling people they were part of it. Tay had long since learned how to skirt that subject. Though he wished he could tell her, because he rather liked the way she looked at him.

He could talk to her all night, given the chance.

"My lady, I have decided something," he said.

"What is that?" she asked.

"I am hungry," he said. "Will you share a meal with me?"

Athdara nodded eagerly. Tay stood up and motioned for her to follow. She did, right behind him, and halfway through the tavern, he reached back and grasped her hand.

Athdara let him.

It was a warm, powerful touch, and Tay held on to her tightly. He pulled her through the tavern and into a smaller room that was far less crowded than the main common room. There were a few people here, eating and drinking, and Tay sent a wench for food before selecting a table in a corner. He indicated for Athdara to sit, and she did before he took his seat. The table was small, so they were sitting rather close. He found himself gazing into eyes that were brown, like a smoky quartz, but had streaks of gold in them.

They were stunning, just like the rest of her.

"Now," he said, his expression bordering on warm. "You asked what I liked to teach? Many things. I am trained as a knight. My training has served me well in my current position."

They'd brought their half-empty cups of ale with them, and Athdara was feeling hers already. That strong drink on an empty stomach had her just a little tipsy.

"I thought you might be a knight," she said, elbows on the table as she leaned closer to him. "You have the look of one."

"Thank you."

"Where did you train?"

"In the north," he said. "My father knew one of the border lords, and I trained there from an early age."

"Then you went away from home?"

"Of course," Tay said. "All young men go away from home to train."

Athdara shook her head. "My brother didn't," she said. "My father trained him. He was a great warrior, and he would have made a great… Well, it does not matter. The point is that he remained at home to train, and my father did very well with him."

The food came at that moment. The wench brought an enormous tray filled with bowls of boiled carrots and some kind of meat in gravy. Bread and butter filled half of the tray, along with two small, empty wooden bowls. Tay handed her one then took the other, and they both began to spoon food into the vessels.

"The idea behind sending lads away to train is so they will learn things other than what their home can teach them," he explained, shoving meat into his mouth. "Your brother could have learned valuable things to bring back to your father."

Athdara buttered her bread. "Did you learn valuable things somewhere other than your home?"

Tay nodded. "Verily," he said. "I learned how men think. I saw how men behaved. I learned the history of England and other countries. That has helped me teach others."

She took a bite of the bread. "Is that what you like best?" she asked. "History?"

Tay shrugged. "It is important to know it so we do not make the same mistakes as our ancestors."

"Is that what you tell your students?"

He thought about the men he trained and how, once bitten, cuffed, or struck in the course of the instruction, they were less inclined to commit the same offence twice. He thought about the battles he lectured on, and there were several, and how his trainees could learn from the mistakes of foolish commanders. There was so much of an answer to her question, but he still didn't feel as if he could, or even should, divulge everything.

"Aye," he finally said. "That is what I tell my students."

"You must be a great teacher."

He grinned, mouth full. "That is what I am told."

Athdara spooned meat and gravy into her mouth. "Then you have found a great calling," she said. "You have found your purpose."

"Think so?"

She nodded. "You must find something you are good at, better than anyone else," she said. "That is where you are meant to be. My father told me that."

For someone who didn't want to discuss her murdered family, she was bringing them up quite a bit. Still, Tay wouldn't press her on them. If she wanted to talk about them, she would.

"He sounds like a wise man," he said, chewing.

"He was."

"And you?" he said. "What is your purpose?"

She was focused on her food. "An interesting question to which I have no answer," she said. "Most women want husbands and children, don't they? Isn't that a purpose?"

He nodded. "It is," he said. "If you have both a husband and children, may I say they are very fortunate to have you as their mother and wife."

She stopped chewing and looked at him. "Why would you say that?"

He picked up a piece of bread. "Because you are intelligent and beautiful," he said. "I am sure you would raise many fine sons. Do you have any?"

She shook her head. "Nay," she said, though she still wasn't eating. "Nor do I have a husband. That is not my purpose in life."

Tay had to admit that he was glad she wasn't married. "What is?"

Athdara set her spoon down. She was gazing at him steadily, and Tay finally realized that she wasn't eating any longer.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?" he said. "Is the food not to your liking?"

She nodded. "It is."

"Then what is wrong?"

"I realized that I cannot answer your question."

"Why not?"

She sighed and reached out for her spoon again. "Because I do not know the answer," she said. "I do not know what my purpose is, but I intend to find out."

He was watching her closely now. "And this distresses you? The fact that you do not know?"

"A little," she said. "I know what I want my purpose to be. But I also know it will be very difficult. I will have to work for it. And I do not know if I will succeed."

He was still chewing when he held his hand out to her. She looked at it queerly, and he gestured.

"Give me your hand," he said quietly.

Without hesitation, she did. He took her hand and squeezed it before holding it up to look at her long fingers, her scarred palm. That indicated that she wasn't afraid of hard work. She may look like a fine lady, but it was clear she hadn't led a fine life.

After a moment, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed then gently. "Your hands tell a story about you," he murmured.

Athdara was looking at him rather wide-eyed, her heart thumping against her ribs at his mere touch. "What do they say?"

"That you are strong," he said. "That you are willing to work. I am a man who believes in destiny, Athdara. If you want to find your purpose and are willing to work for it, you shall. I have no doubt."

He let go of her fingers to pick up his cup, and she looked at the hand he'd been holding.

"Are you an oracle, then?" she said, mildly jesting. "What else do my hands tell you?"

"That they would like to see me again."

She looked at him in surprise. "They would?" she said. "Why?"

"Because they like talking to me."

A smile played on her lips as she realized he was declaring his interest. Here, of all places. In the middle of a rough tavern out in the wilds of Devon, a man she had literally crashed into. He wanted to see her again.

The evening was taking an unexpected turn.

"Do you like talking to them?" she asked.

"I do."

"Then I am agreeable," she said, a glimmer of warmth in her eye. "But I will tell you now that I am not looking for a husband."

"And I am not looking for a wife."

"Good. Now things are established between us."

He was still eating, still shoving food into his mouth, as if her words meant nothing to him, but the truth was that he was confused by the fact he wanted to see her again. More confused that he had voiced it. Perhaps even slightly offended that she'd told him she wasn't looking for a husband. He really wasn't looking for a wife—but in her case, it was possible he just might make an exception. This tall, beautiful, and strong creature by his side would be a proud thing, indeed.

Until he thought of her leaving him for a rich lord's son.

That sank him right back into confusion again.

"They are," he said, pointing to the food. "Eat. Eat and tell me what you are doing here in Devon. Are you traveling alone?"

They'd switched to yet another subject in a conversation that had been full of them. Athdara didn't want to tell him why she was here; she didn't want this educated man to think she was a fool because she was a recruit at Blackchurch. It was a training ground for warriors, men and not women, yet here she was. And she had passed the first of what would undoubtedly be many tests. But she didn't want him to know that, fearful he might think less of her. What decent man would want anything to do with a female warrior?

She didn't know why she should worry about that, only that she did.

"I am not alone," she said, which was the truth. Sort of. Marina was here with her, though Athdara hadn't seen the woman since they'd entered. "I am here in Devon on business."

"What business?"

"My own."

He grinned at her. "I suppose that was too personal a question," he said. "Forgive me."

"You are forgiven."

"Unless it involves something to do with a husband or betrothed, I am not interested."

"Why should those two things concern you?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Because I will not sit here with another man's property," he said. "I would not want a man sitting with someone who belonged to me, and I will not do it to someone else."

She smiled faintly. "I belong to no one, I assure you," she said. "Do you truly believe that women are a man's property?"

He nodded, mopping up the gravy in his bowl with a piece of bread. "Women must belong to someone," he said. "If something belongs to you, it is your property."

Athdara cocked her head. "Then, using that logic, would you say that a man belongs to his wife?"

He shrugged. "If he is the loyal sort, I suppose he does."

"Are you the loyal sort?"

He looked at her then. "I told you I wasn't looking for a wife."

"And I'm not looking for a husband. I was simply asking if you were loyal."

He swallowed the bite in his mouth and leaned forward so he was just a few inches from her face.

"To the bone," he whispered, his dark eyes glimmering with mirth. "When I serve, it is to one lord. With my friends, I am loyal to them to the very last drop of my blood. My mother and brother, too. I am loyal to them. To be disloyal to those I respect would be to dishonor myself."

"That is very noble," she said, feeling a bit quivery at his close proximity. "But I am not surprised. I am coming to see that you are a noble man."

"Thank you."

"Will you tell me of some of your noble adventures?" she asked. "As a knight, I mean. Surely there are many."

Now that the meal was finished, he burped loudly and collected his cup. "A few."

"How long have you been a knight?"

"Many, many years."

She appeared thoughtful. "Did you go on crusade with King Richard?" she said. "I realize that was a long time ago, but mayhap you went as a very young knight."

He nodded. "I did go, in fact," he said. "I was newly knighted and went with the Earl of Norfolk's contingent, from Dartmouth to Calais. From there, we took a land route to Haifa."

"Is that a city in the holy land?"

"Aye," he said. "A dusty, dry city of people who wanted to kill us."

Athdara was growing increasingly interested in his tale. "I've never met anyone who went on crusade," she said. "I heard it was a great and terrible venture."

"Great and terrible would aptly describe it."

"Was there nothing redeemable about it?"

He smirked. "It would take all night to tell you what I think," he said. "I do not speak of it much, but for you, I would make an exception. Mayhap we should save it for the next time we meet."

Athdara was a little disappointed, but she didn't press. "If that is your wish," she said. "When can we meet again?"

His smile turned genuine. "I like that you are eager."

Her cheeks flushed with some embarrassment. "I do not know if anyone has ever told you this, my lord, but you are fascinating," she said. "I want to hear stories of places I have never been."

Reaching out, he took her hand again. "Fascinating, am I?" he said. "That sounds suspiciously like flattery."

Athdara's heart was beginning to race again as he fondled her fingers in a very bold move. "It was nothing of the kind," she insisted weakly. "I simply meant that you have a good deal of experience I find interesting."

He laughed softly. "How dare you insist that you were not flattering me," he said. "You have crushed my spirit."

Thankfully, she could see that he was jesting, and she grinned. "I suspect you will survive."

"Will you never flatter me again?"

"Probably not."

His laughter grew, and he lifted her hand to kiss it again before letting it go. "You are a cold woman, Athdara," he said. "I have practically thrown myself at your feet, and still, you reject me."

Athdara was feeling giddy. Or at least she thought so. She'd never truly been giddy in her life, so it was difficult to know. All she knew was that his smile made her heart race and his touch made her cheeks grow warm.

A most wonderful warmth.

"I am not rejecting you," she said. "I told you that we could speak again, did I not? We will see each other again, I am certain."

His smile faded. "I am glad," he said. "Mayhap the next time we meet, you will tell me what your business is in Devon."

"Mayhap you will tell me where you teach."

"Does it matter?"

She shook her head. "It does not," she said. "Nor does it matter what my business is. Somehow… somehow, it is fun to keep the mystery, don't you think? The realities of the world are so harsh. It is enjoyable to have a world where realities do not penetrate. We can speak of whatever we wish and create any stories we like. We can create an entire world of dreams that way."

He couldn't disagree with her. The world, as a whole, was a difficult and dangerous thing. Blackchurch, in fact, was a difficult and dangerous thing where he spent the vast majority of his time. It was a harsh world. Therefore, he liked the way she was willing to pretend. Pretend they didn't have sorrows or responsibilities. It was a little immature, perhaps, but there was an allure to it. He could pretend right along with her and perhaps even enjoy himself.

He was willing to try.

"A world of dreams is a rare thing," he said after a moment. "I think I've forgotten all of mine."

"The horrors of life have a way of doing that to us."

He nodded. "That is true," he said. "Strange—I cannot remember when I have dreamed of things that didn't involve life or death or the world at hand. Things that were reality in my life."

Athdara shrugged and picked up her cup, draining the last of it. "When you were a small lad, I am sure you had many dreams," she said, her warm expression fading. "I know I did. But those dreams are… gone."

Something in the way she said it made Tay suspect she was thinking of her murdered family again. Picking up his cup, he poured a little of what was left into hers.

"Mayhap they will be replaced by new ones," he said. "I hope you find your dreams, Lady Athdara."

"I hope you do too."

With that, they drank the remaining liquid, but their eyes never left one another. Athdara was about to say something when she caught sight of Marina out in the common room, sporting a massive black eye. The woman had blood on her face and seemed to be stumbling around, dazed and confused after what was surely a hell of a fight. She clearly needed help.

Athdara put her cup down. "I must go," she said. "Thank you for a lovely conversation and a lovely meal. I've not had a night like this in a very long time. It has done my soul good to know there are still kind people out there."

He grasped her wrist as she stood up. "Where are you going?" he asked, but when she didn't answer right away, he waved a hand at her. "My apologies. It is none of my affair. If you must go, then so be it. When can I see you again?"

Athdara wasn't entirely sure. She started her new training tomorrow and wasn't exactly sure how she would feel after a day of strict training. She might not be in any shape to entertain. She might be missing teeth or have a black eye. But somehow, she didn't think even a missing leg would be enough to keep her away. She craved a new friend because it made her realize just how lonely she had been.

In Tay, she saw a chance to ease that loneliness, even briefly.

"In three days?" she said, thinking to give herself time to recover or at least become accustomed to whatever she was facing. "I will meet you here and we will sup. And mayhap you will tell me about your adventures in the Levant. I should like to hear about your heroics."

He snorted softly. "I am not sure there were any heroics involved, merely self-preservation," he said. "But I will be here."

She smiled at him. He looked eager, but perhaps there was also some wariness there. As if he wasn't sure he believed she would really come back. Like her, perhaps he believed there were no honorable women left in the world.

Impulsively, she took his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek.

"So will I," she said. "Farewell, Tay the teacher. It has been a night to remember."

With that, she moved away from the table, heading out into the common room. Tay watched her go, but he lost her when she blended in with the crowd. He thought he caught a glimpse of her talking to another person, who turned out to be a woman because, when he caught her profile, he could see her breasts. Somehow, it was a relief to see that Athdara had come with a woman to The Black Cock. Although she'd told him there was no man in her life, the truth was that he didn't believe her. He didn't believe any woman.

But maybe, in some small way, he was starting to.

It had been a night to remember for him, too.