Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“You love your husband,” Etta said calmly.

“Nay! That is, perhaps it is just that . . .”

“You love your husband to distraction,” Etta said again.

To Etta’s surprise, Kassia looked at her blankly, turned on her heel, and walked quickly from the chamber.

She went to the stable and asked Bernard to saddle Bluebell for her. Sir Walter stood in the inner bailey when she emerged from the stable leading her mare.

“Sir Walter,” she said stiffly.

“You wish to ride, my lady?”

“As you see.”

“Lord Graelam bade me never to leave your side if you rode out of the keep.”

She paused a moment, chewing on her lower lip. She wondered why Graelam had left Sir Walter at Wolffeton whilst he took Rolfe with him to Crandall. Was it because he did not wish the man to fight beside him? She wanted very much to be alone, but it appeared she had no choice but to suffer Sir Walter’s company. She nodded. “Very well,” she said.

She pushed Bluebell into a gallop, leaving Sir Walter and his three men behind her. At the protected cove, she dismounted and stared out over the churning water. A summer storm was building to the north. It would strike tonight, she thought, while she would be alone in the great bed. She shivered.

“If you are cold, my lady, perhaps we should return to Wolffeton.”

She jumped, for she had not heard Sir Walter approach. She shook her head. “Nay, I wish to walk about for a while.”

“If you wish,” he said, and offered her his arm.

She ignored him and walked to the edge of the cliff.

“Is it your lord you miss, my lady?”

At his snide tone, she stiffened. Her hand itched to strike him, but she said only, “My feelings are none of your business, Sir Walter.”

“Perhaps not, my lady, but I heard about your . . . misadventure. Perhaps you did not plan your escape well enough.”

“I wish to return to Wolffeton,” Kassia said, and walked quickly away from him.

Sir Walter wanted to shake her and

wring her proud neck. Little bitch, treating him as if he were vermin, of no worth at all! He watched one of the men help her into her saddle. Soon, my lady, he thought, smiling. Very soon now.

Kassia felt a brief surge of excitement as she stood at her post in the crenellated embrasure in the eastern outer wall, watching the riders come nearer. She sighed deeply, recognizing Sir Walter riding at their head. He had left the day before, claiming that there had been an attack on a demesne farm. She had not believed him, and seeing him now, she wondered where he had gone and what he had done.

One man was huddled over his saddle as if he were hurt, and three men were obviously dead, slung over their horses’ backs like bags of wheat. As they drew nearer, she could see that the hurt man was bound with heavy rope. Speeding down the narrow stairs, she made her way into the inner bailey. As Sir Walter shouted to the porter, she prepared to step forward, but something she could not explain stopped her. She waited in the shadows of the cooking shed and watched the men enter the inner bailey. The wide smile on Sir Walter’s face made Kassia shiver.

He pulled the bound man off his horse. The man staggered, then stood straight. “Behold,” Sir Walter called out to the gathering men. “We have caught a prize!” He pulled the hood back from the man’s head. “Dienwald de Fortenberry, knave, murderer, and . . . taker of other men’s women!”

Kassia felt herself go cold. It was Edmund! She remembered Sir Walter’s venomous words about de Fortenberry, remembered clearly Graelam telling him that de Fortenberry had made no forays onto Wolffeton land, and was thus of no interest to him. Taker of other men’s women. Somehow Sir Walter had discovered that Dienwald de Fortenberry was the man who had taken her. Her head spun. She saw Sir Walter draw back his fist and smash it into Dienwald’s ribs. That decided her. She ran forward.

“Hold, Sir Walter!” she yelled.

Sir Walter spun around, as did the other men.

“My lady,” he said, bowing to her deeply, the sarcasm in his voice clear for all to hear.

“Is it a knight’s code to strike a bound man, Sir Walter?”

“It is a knight’s code to crush vermin, my lady.”