The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

Lily had forgotten how companionable sewing could be. When she was wed to Vorgen, she had been constantly tense with fear and worry. There had always been the fear that one of the women might carry tales to the Normans of what was said. She had forgotten the joy to be found in women gathered together. When Lily was younger, when her mother had been alive, there had been much gossip and laughter, and her mother’s soft admonishments had in no way extinguished the twinkle in her eyes, as she listened to the hopes and dreams of those under her care.

Lily remembered now, and vowed that when she was settled in a proper home of her own, she would recreate those times. Surely Radulf would see the sense in the people beneath him being contented? Gudren, Lily recalled, had said that the inhabitants at Crevitch were strongly loyal to him because he kept them warm and well fed.

I do not abandon mine.

Well, it was only good sense to make certain one’s people were well cared for, and not only because they were less likely to rebel against one. If they were happy then everything ran more smoothly, there were fewer problems. Vorgen had lived in bitter chaos. But Radulf, Lily thought with a little smile, might just be a man who preferred harmony.

It grew late and shadows filled the corners.

Alice was chatting but Lily had long ago ceased to pay attention. She was listening for Radulf, though she did not realize it until the sound of approaching horses struck through her like an axe through wood. Her head jerked up, the needle and thread slipping from her fingers. Alice continued to chatter on for a moment or two and then, noticing Lily’s stillness, stopped in midsentence.

Heavy footsteps thudded into the inn, voices rising one over the other, Jervois’s among them. Lily stood up, the piece of blue wool sliding to the floor. Alice caught it up, mindful of its value. She was startled by the white, waiting look on her friend’s face. Lily had been calm, if abstracted, until now, but that veneer had crumbled, and her slim body seemed to vibrate.

“Alice,” she whispered. “Will you go and see if Lord Radulf has returned?”

Alice flicked her an uncertain look, then rose and did as she was bid. The outer room was full of men, their armor and weapons cluttering up the low space. At first she could see nothing but sweaty faces and the dull gleam of chain mail, but she could hear Jervois. Alice pushed her way awkwardly toward him.

The captain stood by the fireplace, splashing wine from a jug into goblets. He turned, as if he sensed Alice’s presence behind him. His green eyes grew arrested, admiring, and then wary. “Lady?”

Alice’s gaze glanced off him; she had still not forgiven him. Instead she looked to the large figure slumped on the bench, silhouetted against the flames. Radulf definitely looked the worse for wear. His face was damp and grimy, there was a livid scratch across his jaw, and his black hair was sticking up on end, as though he had just removed his helmet. As he reached for his goblet it was obvious he was favoring one arm.

Despite all this he was grinning from ear to ear.

“At last I see an end to the madness,” he growled to Jervois in a voice hoarse and scratchy. “First we go north and oversee this cursed castle, and then south. Home. To Crevitch!” he rasped, raising his goblet.

The toast was taken up, ringing deafeningly throughout the room.

Alice weaved her way back to the bedchamber. She found Lily seated on the bed white-faced and oddly calm.

“He is arrested,” she said dully. “I am to go to Crevitch. I heard them all say it. I must pack some things.”

She stood up, seemed to waver a moment, and then without a word, Lily fainted.

Alice gave a small shriek and ran to her friend. “Lily!” she cried. “No, no, he is here! He is outside, drinking wine and laughing. It is all right, truly, Lily, it is fine.”

In a little time Lily stirred, and with Alice’s assistance sat up. She listened, nodding, as Alice reassured her, and though her shoulders lost some of their rigidity, she still did not smile. She sipped the wine Alice poured her, the sour taste of it making her shudder. Lily thought then that she might vomit. She subdued the urge, swallowing and taking deep breaths until it, too, had passed.

“I am all right now,” she replied to Alice’s concerned questions. “I have sat inside this room for far too long. I suppose I will get fresh air enough when I ride with my lord to his lands in the south.” She tried to smile as she looked up at Alice, and then stopped, suddenly stricken, tears gathering in her eyes. “Oh Alice, will I ever see you again?”

Alice’s own heart was tugged by the question, but her nature was bubbly and resilient, and she smiled a reassuring smile. “Of course, why not? Radulf will need to oversee his northern lands…your lands. You will see me then. Or I could come to stay in the south, with you. I need a husband, remember? I am sure there are worthy examples to be found at Crevitch.” Jervois, whispered her heart, but Alice ignored that impractical organ.

Lily smiled, as she was meant to. Her fingers clung to Alice’s a moment longer, and then her eyes widened as a heavy step sounded. The doorway was filled completely with a man.

“My lord!”

He laughed at the look on her face. “No, lady, I have not been set upon. I have had some friendly sport with my king…though some may claim it is one and the same thing.”

Alice rolled her eyes. Why did men think it a matter of pride to be

bruised and battered?

Radulf limped into the bedchamber. Jervois began to remove the chain mail, trying not to hurt Radulf more than necessary. Lily moved to help, giving Alice a distracted smile as she bade her farewell. Her mind was filled with the joy of his being safe. She had been so afraid…

Radulf was in a lot of pain, and when they had finished, seemed content enough to lie back on the bed and let his wife bustle about him, tending to his hurts.

Radulf had never had anyone but a squire or a servant tend to him before. A wife, he decided, was infinitely better, particularly when that wife was Lily. Her care of him made the beating he’d received at William’s hands almost worth it. Radulf all but purred beneath her ministrations, indulging himself as she sponged him clean and applied her medicines, and then tempted his appetite with cheeses and meats and red wine. When she had finally done, he lay watching her through half-closed eyes as she fussed about the chamber, folding clothing, tidying it away. Then she spent time combing the silver beauty of her hair before braiding it.

Radulf watched her long, nimble fingers and the cool, distant beauty of her face. He could not fault her care of him, yet now she was removed, shuttered against him. He might even have thought her afraid of the heat that lay between them; Lily, too, had her secrets. His eyes slipped over her rounded shoulder, to the breast hidden by the clothes she wore, and his gaze sharpened. Was that soft curve heavier, fuller?