Chapter 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

T hey waited until the men were buried, training resumed, and all had gone back to how it was before Winchester. Alden waited at the door of the chapel, one without a priest since they'd not been able to recruit one that could be trusted with their secret. Despite Empress Matilda's defeat, or maybe because of it, the Guardians of the Sacred Oak were more determined than ever to emerge victorious. None here would accept King Stephen as their monarch.

Ever.

There was one daughter of King Henry I, and she was the only ruler these men would follow. Including Alden. But today was not for allegiances and battles.

It was the day he would become a husband.

"There she is," Gareth said beside him.

He knew she was sad that her father would miss this day. Of his family, Alden wished most his mother and sister could be here as well. They would adore Elara, and she them. Someday, perhaps, they would come to know one another.

For now, there were matters more important than strengthening familial relationships. The fate of England sat in the balance. But at least they would fight for it together.

"She is so beautiful," he said, not realizing he'd done so loudly enough for his friends to hear him.

"Aye, she is," Darien said.

She was dressed in a rich ivory gown, its bodice intricately embroidered with gold and silver threads. Its long, flowing sleeves hinted at an elegance of a woman raised at court. Though Elara wished for a simple ceremony, their wedding feast one that would be attended by their instructors and recruits but none other, she had insisted on having a special gown made by the village seamstress.

The skirt of her gown was voluminous, cascading down in soft, elegant folds. A jeweled belt cinched at her waist, and she wore a gossamer veil, he could see as she approached, embroidered with tiny, sparkling beads that glimmered like dew drops. It was secured in place with a delicate circlet of woven gold, and as she walked through the grass toward him, Elara appeared almost ethereal, like a dream.

And she was his.

This serious, beautiful, intelligent woman whose passions she'd not held back, was his. Alden silently thanked the saints for such a blessing.

Walking up the stairs, she paused. They would marry on the steps of the chapel for all to see. Stepping from behind her was their officiant. In some ways, Alden thought it appropriate the stalwart nobleman would be the one to marry them. He realized finally why Lord Stirling and Elara did not get on very well.

They were nearly the same person.

Though it was true the man who'd knighted him, and also held ecclesiastical authority through his church's patronage, did not care for court politics, the two were otherwise very similar. Stalwart. Smart. Savvy.

Even now, despite the fact that today was a joyous occasion, Stirling appeared as if they were instead heading into battle. Or at the very least, he did not appear about to officiate a wedding.

Alden turned his attention to Elara.

She, on the other hand, smiled broadly. "You are to become my husband," she whispered as Stirling attempted to quiet the crowd.

"And you, my wife."

Alden would never be able to repeat the words Stirling said. He was hardly listening. His attention was firmly on the woman by his side.

Stirling cleared his throat.

Elara looked as if she were about to laugh. Roland did so, earning a stern look from Stirling.

"I asked, Sir Alden," Stirling said. "If you would repeat after me?"

"Aye," he said. "Aye, I will."

Stirling's one eye rolled upward "Very good then. I, Alden, take thee, Elara, to be my wedded wife."

Alden repeated the words.

Stirling continued. "To love and to honor, to cherish and to protect, in fair fortune and in adversity, in health and in sickness, from this day forward, until death do us part."

As Alden finished the vow, he added a silent prayer that death would not do them part for many, many years. Despite the conflict. Despite the dangers they put themselves in.

As Elara repeated the vow, their conversation in the secret garden came back to him.

"I have spoken to Sir Eamon of your recruitment."

"I assume you do as much with all recruits?"

"Nay. I do not."

It was his first hint that Elara felt something for him. But never could he have imagined that day the two would be wed.

Alden told her as much later when they were seated together in the hall. Music floated through the open space, one of the recruits playing a fiddle nearby. They could not bring outside musicians to Blackwood, but the simplicity of their wedding feast suited Alden and he hoped it suited Elara as well.

"When I think back," he said to his wife, "to our conversation in your garden—"

"Our garden," she corrected. The space was one they used frequently to steal moments together.

"Our garden. I knew you liked me."

"You deduced as much, aye?"

He could see her smile from behind the wine goblet.

"I am very clever," he teased. "At least, I am so now after attending Strategies. Its instructor is quite good. I will admit to initially thinking such knowledge would not be necessary."

"Didn't expect to be required to uncover a traitor in our midst?"

"Nay," he said, Alden's gaze moving to Sir Corwin, who was similarly watching his wife serve ale.

"They will be fully together someday," Elara said.

"I still believe he should confess. It will become apparent soon enough, she is with child."

"'Tis their decision, not ours." Elara fed him a bite of sugared nuts, a treat Amalia had arranged through one of her contacts in the village.

Alden had spoken to Corwin about it, but he insisted revealing the truth was too risky for his position here, though Alden did not agree. Roland had married Amalia, though a lady's maid and a kitchen maid, as Corwin reminded him, were not the same. No matter how much Alden had tried to convince him, Corwin remained steadfast.

"Indeed," he said, in awe, as he'd been since Alden first spied her at the chapel. "There's never been a bride more beautiful than you, Elara. Thank you."

"For?" she asked, picking up her wine goblet.

"For agreeing to become my wife. For loving me, despite my lack of title and lands. For risking so much, and gaining..." He would not say "so little." Alden valued himself more than that. Even so, he was still a blacksmith's son, and their future was uncertain. Instead, he finished, whispering, "And gaining the promise of pleasure every single eve we are together."

"First," she said, placing her goblet back onto the table. "You have a title, lest you forget."

It was not what he had meant, and his wife knew as much.

"Second, what need do I have of land? My path has never been to sit upon a dais, welcoming guests and entertaining other nobles. Our future, whatever it holds for us after Blackwood, will be as unique as the story of our courtship."

She gestured for him to come closer, so he did.

"As to that last part," she whispered. "I will hold you to it, husband."

Alden's laugh earned the attention of those around them. He was about to offer a retort but paused as Darien strode purposefully toward the dais. Standing below it, he looked up, his expression filled with concern.

"What is it?" Alden asked, immediately alarmed.

"Naught to ruin your wedding night," Darien said. "But I did not wish to leave without a quick word of parting."

"Leave?" Alden and Elara exchanged a glance, neither understanding. He'd been with Darien all day and his friend had said nothing of leaving. "When? To where?"

"A messenger arrived just moments ago with a summons from my father, the Earl of Ellsworth. He requests my immediate return, and the message bears a warning—a new threat rising, one that, according to his missive, could endanger all of our plans for the future."

"What does that mean?" Elara asked.

"I do not know, my lady. He said only that I should return at once. I've spoken to Eamon and have been given leave to do so. I will send word as soon as I am able."

"You are leaving now?" Alden asked. "You cannot go alone."

"Aye, the summons was clear that I should not delay. The messenger is a man well-respected in Ellsworth for his prowess. He came with another. All three of us will return at once."

"They gave no hint of the nature of the summons?"

"I did not speak to either of them directly yet." He held up a missive. "They were not given permission to enter Blackwood's gates."

"We will go with you to speak to them," Alden said, but Darien indicated that he should sit.

"Both Gareth and Roland already offered as much. I go alone. I bid you adieu, until we meet again. Sir Alden. Lady Elara."

With that, Darien turned from them. Alden scanned the hall and found Gareth and Roland, the former shaking his head. Darien would not allow them to come.

"Darien," he called out. His friend turned.

"Be well. If you send for us, we will come."

"I know you will," he said. And then was gone.

"What could be so urgent he would be summoned back to Ellsworth? Do you think it has aught to do with our cause?" Elara asked.

"I know not," he said. And because none knew what tomorrow might bring, he pulled her into him, kissing Elara in front of everyone. A roar erupted through the hall, but he cared not.

The future was uncertain, but this night . . . was theirs.