Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

H e is a very big man.

That was Chrystobel's first thought when she saw de Poyer, without his helm and most of his armor, in the great hall for supper. He had come with a cluster of English knights, haughty men with a haughty manner and big weapons. They were all big and sturdy, war machines for William Marshal's conquest of Wales. She wasn't sure she liked them in the halls of Nether, yet she had little choice. She had instructed the servants to begin serving food as soon as the knights entered the hall and they did so with flighty efficiency.

De Poyer didn't sit right away even though his men did. As Chrystobel watched from an alcove, de Poyer moved to the hearth to inspect it, pacing the room slowly as his gaze moved over every facet of the hall as if biting it off, chewing it, and digesting it. He had a very intense gaze. His perusal of his new acquisition gave Chrystobel a chance to inspect him. As she had initially noticed, he was a large man with a big, muscular body. He had enormously wide shoulders and arms. He wasn't obviously handsome but he had rugged, strong features that she found intriguing. He had dark, dusky eyes and closed-cropped dark hair with flecks of gray near the temples. She wondered how old he was. He wasn't young but he wasn't particularly old. It seemed to her that he was a man who had seen much in life because his manner seemed oddly weary.

A servant swept past her through the alcove, coming from the small exterior door that led off towards the kitchens, and nearly dropped a platter of boiled apples as she went. The woman panicked because she thought Gryffyn, who wasn't even in the hall yet, might have heard the commotion. He did not tolerate clumsiness. Chrystobel caught the platter before it could crash and took it out into the hall herself. No use in hiding herself any longer.

She headed straight for the dais where the knights were collecting. She counted four in all, including de Poyer. Setting the tray down, she dared to glance up and noticed that a big blond knight was studying her intently. Startled when their eyes met, she bowed quickly and turned away, only to run straight into Keller.

He had seen her emerge with the platter of apples and made his way over to the table. Dry and cleaned up from her trip through the mud, he was not surprised to see how lovely she truly was. Her blond hair fell well past her buttocks, the hair around her face pulled back and secured behind her head. She was clad in a rough linen surcoat of a faded cranberry color with a woven tassel rope about her gently flaring hips. When their eyes met, he was intrigued anew by the beauty of her face. But along with that beauty, he noticed a dark shading along her left cheekbone. It was clearly a bruise. His dark eyes inspected her cheek with the same intensity as they inspected the hall. Keller de Poyer was a man who missed nothing.

"You hurt yourself tumbling down the hill today, my lady," he commented. "I am sorry I could not save you sooner to prevent it."

She truly had no idea what he was talking about. Her big brown eyes were a little lost as she gazed back at him.

"My lord?"

He tilted his chin in the direction of her cheek even as his eyes focused on the swollen area. "Your face," he clarified, somewhat softer. "You bruised it when you fell."

Her hand flew to her face and she lowered her gaze with uncertainty. "I…," she tried to move away from him, out from under his intense stare. "I am sorry if my appearance is unseemly, my lord."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist with a massive hand. Even without the gauntlets he usually wore, his hand was three times the size of hers. "You are hardly unseemly," he pulled her back towards him and dropped his hand when he was sure she wasn't going to try and move away again. "I would introduce you to the knights who are now in control of Nether. Good knights, this is Lady Chrystobel d'Einen, chatelaine of Nether Castle," he eyed the men around him somewhat awkwardly. "She is the future Lady de Poyer."

Wellesbourne was the first man to greet her. He did so politely. "My lady, Sir William Wellesbourne at your service."

Still embarrassed about her bruised cheek, it was a struggle for Chrystobel to acknowledge the big blond knight. He was handsome and with a very deep voice. The two shorter knights on Wellesbourne's other side came at her with the gentle force of a raging blizzard. They almost knocked her off her feet with their rush.

"I am Sir George Ashby-Kidd," George grabbed her hand before his brother could get to it. "And this is my dastardly brother, Sir Aimery. You should make all effort to stay away from him. He's a fool."

George grinned as he kissed her hand, while Aimery scowled at him and yanked her hand away before his brother could finish kissing it. Not to kiss the same place his brother had, he flipped her hand over and deposited a rather lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist.

"Sir Aimery Ashby-Kidd, my lady, your devoted servant," he said. "If there is anyone to watch out for, it is my brother. He has the tongue of a serpent."

Chrystobel was taken aback by the bold young knights and their idea of gallantry. Wellesbourne slapped Aimery on the back of the head and took the lady's hand away.

"Good God," he growled, pulling her away. "Idiots, both of you. Go sit down before you make complete jackasses of yourselves."

Keller watched as Wellesbourne took Chrystobel to the other side of the dais, politely seating her and making sure she had an adequate amount of wine. George and Aimery were caught up arguing with each other, leaping on the serving wench when she brought more wine and nearly knocking the woman to the ground. They tended to drink in excess and tonight was to be no exception. But Keller stood back, watching the scene before him, absorbing it. Wellesbourne was much more comfortable with women than he was and he observed the man as he made small talk with Chrystobel. Since William was already married to a woman he adored, Keller presumed, correctly, that Wellesbourne knew much more about conversing with women than he did. Keller would make sure to study his mannerisms and try to emulate them.

Keller's gaze was drawn to Chrystobel. She was an exquisite woman and his initial observation of her had not been wrong. Truth be told, as his interest in her grew, so did his intimidation. He was forty-one years old. She was barely twenty. She was young and beautiful and he began to think it rather tragic that she had been forced to marry an old man. But, on the other hand, he thought it a rather positive situation for him. Perhaps she was just what he needed after a love lost. Perhaps he should at least give her that chance. There could be nothing worse for the woman to be married to an old man whose heart was made of stone.

Taking a deep breath for courage, he made his way over to the dais and sat on the opposite side of Chrystobel. As the storm outside began to thunder and more men from his Corps wandered into the hall in preparation of supper, Keller poured himself a chalice of wine and sat silently as Wellesbourne told Chrystobel of a trip he and his wife took to Paris after they were married.

"I have only been as far as Aberystwyth," she told William. "I have spent my entire life at Nether."

William could see Keller's face on the other side of Chrystobel. "Perhaps your husband will take you to London and Paris someday," he said, glancing at the man. "It is a trip every young woman should make at least once in her life."

Chrystobel turned to Keller, looking at him for the first time at close range. His eyes were a very dark shade of blue. It was an interesting color she had never seen before. He had a long, straight nose and a granite-square jaw. But she could see up close that his skin was weathered and rough, a man who had seen much of the elements and hard times in his life. Still, it added a certain character to him. It was not unattractive in the least. She smiled faintly when he fixed on her with his intense blue eyes.

"If Sir Keller decides that I am worthy of a trip to London and Paris, I would indeed be honored," she said after a moment. "Certainly I would like to hear the tale of any travels he has made also."

Keller gazed back at her porcelain face, feeling an odd thumping in his chest. He remembered that thumping, once, and it had led to heartbreak. He should have fought the sensation but found that he could not. In spite of his reservations, he rather liked it. The heart of stone was beginning to show cracks.

"If a wedding trip is your wish, then I am sure it can be arranged," he said. "As for my travels, I have been many places in the course of my duties."

"Do you have a favorite destination, my lord?" she asked politely.

He thought a moment, his eyes steady on her. "I saw lands devoid of green when I went to The Levant," he began. "Land with sand as far as the eye could see. And men with skin as black as tar. But it was warm there, far warmer than England or Wales."

Chrystobel's brown eyes widened. "You went on Richard's Crusade?"

He nodded, as if not at all impressed with himself. "I was with the king when he captured Cyprus," he said without a hint of pride in his tone. "I was in command of the first of four garrisons charged with holding the island for Richard and the French king, Philip Augustus. The island was a place of warm weather almost the entire year. I enjoyed it immensely."

Chrystobel was still lingering on the fact that he had gone on crusade with King Richard. She had never met anyone who had actually participated on the legendary crusade that ended five years earlier. He did not seem at all impressed with himself but she certainly was.

"Forgive me, my lord, if this is not an appropriate subject to speak of," she said respectfully. "But for a girl who has hardly ventured out of her home, I find the fact that you fought in the Holy Land fascinating. Could I beg you to tell me more stories of your adventures?"

Keller hadn't talked of his duty in The Levant since almost the day he had returned. He didn't like to talk about the friends he had lost or the struggles he had endured. They had been unimaginably brutal and difficult. But gazing into Chrystobel's eager face, he found that he could not deny her request.

"Well," he settled back with his wine, thinking a moment. More soldiers clamored into the hall and begin filling up the place with noise and stench, but he didn't notice. He was focused on Chrystobel's enthusiastic expression. "The first true battle I saw was outside of a city called Apollonia. It was the first time I saw camels."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Camels?"

He tried to outline the shape of the animal with his hands. "'Tis a strange creature with humps on its back, long legs and big lips. The savages in the Holy Land even sleep with the beasts sometimes. They are treated like pets."

She was properly awed. "A camel," she repeated the odd name, listening to the sound of it. "Do you eat it?"

He shook his head. "No," he moved to pour himself more wine as he warmed to the conversation. "The savages ride them, milk them, even race them. They can go for months without drinking water, which is a good thing considering the land does not see rain for months at a time."

"Truly?" she was impressed with the animal's ability to go without water. "What does it eat?"

"Grass, grain," Keller looked around. "Speaking of eat, are we to be served? My men have been on the road since before dawn."

Chrystobel suddenly leapt up. "My apologies, my lord. I was so swept up in conversation that I… forgive me. I shall see to it immediately."

She fled as if the devil himself had just made a request of her. Both Keller and William watched her race off with some astonishment. Wellesbourne turned to Keller.

"What in the world did you say that would make her run like that?" he wondered out loud. "She was so…."

"Fearful," Keller said before William could finish. He thought on her odd reaction a moment before putting it out of his mind. Women, as he'd always known, were strange creatures. He didn't understand them. He downed a healthy swallow of wine, lingering thoughtfully over the rim. "So what do you think of the place?"

Wellesbourne turned his attention away from the spooked lady to the hall around them. "Impressive. But where is Nether's liege?"

Keller scratched his face and shrugged. "Who knows?" he had more wine. "The man did not greet us when we arrived. Unless he is dead or incapacitated, I am not sure what his excuse is."

"Do you suppose he's hiding?"

"Bad manners either way."

Wellesbourne pursed his lips. "No matter what deal The Marshal made with him, I still say we should be on our guard."

The sentence wasn't yet out of his mouth before they both began to hear a great commotion, rising in the distance like a storm. It wasn't long before everyone in the hall heard it also and the servants began to scatter. Keller and William turned in the direction of the hall entry, waiting for the storm to announce itself.

It wasn't long in coming.