The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

Lily tilted her head so that she could see his face. Her husband was more often than not a puzzle to her, but she sensed his honesty. Apart from the pain he must be feeling, there was a weary acceptance in his voice, as if he had come to the end of a journey and was simply glad it was over.

Words and questions fizzed in her head, but finally she elected to say simply what was in her heart.

“Tell me what it is that troubles you, my lord.”

Chapter 15

“You asked me once about this scar.” His voice was surprisingly strong.

“And you said it was given to you by a brave man,” Lily replied, watching him closely.

Radulf smiled, but there was pain in the twist of his lips. “’Twas my father who gave me that scar.”

Startled, she sought for words while those black, gleaming eyes delved into hers. Judging her. Debating whether to open himself up to her.

“Were you not…close?” she managed at last.

Radulf shifted, as if to ease his shoulder. “Once. My mother died when I was but a child, and I looked to my father to supply both roles. He was a warrior like me, but there was a gentleness in him and great patience. Aye, we were close.”

“Then why…?”

“My father was a friend to King William’s father, Duke Robert, and when Duke Robert set out on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, my father promised to watch over young William. Duke Robert did not come back; he died far from home. I was a babe then, but as I grew from a child into a boy, I was often in William’s company. We wrestled and trained together, and my father watched over us both. William was never a lusty lad when it came to girls. For me, it was different. I was already taller and stronger than my friends, and I was not so ugly then. The girls of the castle and the village began to follow me about. I tried to fix my mind on bold and brave deeds, like William, but my body told me differently. When I was fourteen I had my first girl. It was…pleasant, but it meant nothing.”

Lily’s mouth twitched. She could see the young Radulf training in the castle yard, stripped to the waist, black hair longer then, loose about his face. No wonder the girls watched him.

“And then I fell in love, and it was as if everything changed overnight.”

Lily’s heart gave a jolt. “You fell in love so young?”

“I was young in years, perhaps, but not in experience. At fourteen, boys like me are considered men. I already had the body of a man, but my heart and mind were innocent. I was…romantic. A dreamer with the face of a warrior. I fell hard in love. Sometimes it hurt me just to breathe.”

Now Lily did smile. “First love is like that. When I thought myself in love with Hew, I believed I heard angels’ voices.”

Radulf stroked her hip, but did not smile in return. “Why did you stop loving him?”

She gave him a long, cool look. “He betrayed me.”

Radulf nodded. He understood how that would kill love, no matter how strong. “Your Hew is a weak

man. He abandoned you to Vorgen, then again when I defeated them in battle, and finally he left you at Trier. I would not have done that, mignonne. I do not abandon mine.”

Something liquefied in her chest, trickling down into her stomach and her limbs. She had an unbearable urge to lean her head against him and give up all she had fought and struggled for and against. His strength was so great. Instead she took a shaky breath and reminded him, “You fell in love?”

He had read her confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t pursue it.

“The woman—for she was no girl—was older than me. She was very beautiful—as you say, an angel, Lily. An angel of goodness, I thought.” He laughed with bitter irony. “We struggled, but I think I always knew that was just part of the game. One night she came to my bed and said she could struggle no longer. After that, I was lost.”

Lily read his reluctance. “It was Anna,” she answered her own question.

“Yes, it was Anna.”

“She was one of the women who lived at the castle?”

Shame brought color to his cheeks, and he bowed his head as though he were too embarrassed to meet her eyes. “Nay, Lily, she was my father’s second wife. And the fact that each time I was with her, I was betraying him, did not stop me. I could not stop.”

For an older, more sophisticated woman to seduce a boy was repugnant enough—it would be like Lily taking Stephen the squire to her bed—but that the woman was married to the boy’s father was beyond disgrace. “She tricked you into her bed,” Lily said hopefully.

But honestly, reluctantly, Radulf shook his head. “No, it was no trick. I was more than willing to find my way there at every opportunity. I was a young stag in rut, and she was my ever-willing doe.”