The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

Radulf sh

uddered violently; everything in him revolted. No! He could not bear that. What she had done to him was a secondary issue, a separate issue. Her safety, her life was his first concern now. He could not bear to see even a single scratch on her, and he certainly would not be able to bear losing her to another man. She was his, he thought fiercely, and if any punishment was due to her, then he would be the judge of it and provide the method!

Radulf rode on, staring blindly. How was he to convince William to let her go? Even if he declared her innocent of the rebellion made in her name—which he himself was yet to be convinced of—Lily remained a danger to the peace and stability of the north. She was a figurehead for others, and William would see her removal and subjugation as a priority.

Radulf growled in frustration. If he were Henry, he would use smooth words to cajole and convince, but he was Radulf—and it was ever his way to speak his thoughts plainly, without flowery phrases.

Radulf shifted uncomfortably.

There was a way to save Lily. If, God help him, he had the courage to take it. The idea had come to him on the journey. At first he had dismissed it, amazed by his own lunacy, but it had returned again and again, like a prickle in his boot, until he had taken a serious look at what seemed utter madness. And he’d grasped this was the perfect answer. Indeed, it was the only way to keep Lily safe and under his watchful eye, and completely his.

Radulf’s grip tightened on his horse’s reins.

He would do it! He would put the whole matter before his king, and hope good sense and the firm ties of a long friendship would prevail.

Of course, he would not tell William that he had already given Jervois certain instructions. The amazed expression in Jervois’s eyes showed he’d thought Radulf had lost his mind, but Radulf knew that if the message came from the castle that he had failed in his bid to sway the king, then his trusty captain would take Lily to immediate safety.

Unfortunately, Radulf would then have to face the consequences of his actions.

He was prepared for that.

He would give his life, or more probably his title and his lands, for her safety.

Radulf scowled, frightening several small children. He didn’t notice. Who would have thought the day would come when the King’s Sword would be willing to give up everything for a woman!

Truly, he was his father’s son.

Chapter 10

Lily woke to half darkness and the sound of movement beyond her door. There was laughter, and voices rising and falling. She knew most of those voices; she had traveled with these men for many days now. She felt comfortable with them, which was odd since they were her enemies.

Where was Radulf?

The question spurred her to turn her head, examining the room. She had seen little of it last night. After she arrived at the small chamber, tears, so long restrained, had filled her eyes and run down her cheeks. Alone at last, all hope gone, she had cried herself to sleep.

Voices again, closer now, murmuring at her door. Lily thought one of them was female, probably the innkeeper’s young, shy-eyed daughter. Last evening, while Lily sat by the fire in the steamy warmth of the main room of the inn, the girl had served her ale and a pie straight from the oven. The other guests had been sent packing by Radulf’s soldiers, some of them ejected quite violently with their belongings tumbling after them. Their loud complaints faded only when Jervois handed out coins from the leather purse at his belt.

It was the Norman way to take what they wanted, Lily thought bitterly. Although, she admitted grudgingly, Vorgen would not have bothered to appease them with money…

A hard knock on the door, and then again.

Lily sat up—she hadn’t dared to undress—and pushed back untidy hair that badly needed washing and brushing. Her skin was still gritty from the journey, and her clothing stiff with dust. It was long since she had bathed at her leisure and dressed in fine clothes. Another place, another life. All gone now.

“Who is it?” she called out in a voice hoarse from disuse.

“My lady, ’tis Jervois!”

Lily got up and opened the door. The morning sun was glinting through the open door of the inn, while the smells of bread and ale lingered, mixed with pungent woodsmoke.

It was obvious from Jervois’s pallor and dark-circled eyes that he hadn’t slept much. Yesterday, while she ate her pie and drank her ale, Lily had noticed how the captain’s green gaze had ranged continually about the inn, cataloguing its strengths and weak points.

Lily wondered if there was more to his orders than she perceived—she had assumed from what Radulf said that Jervois was to keep her safe. Maybe her assumptions were wrong.

As if he had read her thoughts, Jervois said, “Lord Radulf has sent word, lady. You are to accompany me and the men to the castle as soon as may be.”

“Rather a large escort for one woman, Jervois. There is no need; I do not intend to run away. I want my audience with the king.”

Jervois looked uncomfortable. “You must ask Lord Radulf those questions, lady. I am his captain, that is all.”