Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1) - Page 28

It would mean nothing. Aye, the die was cast.

Before the afternoon meal, Jerval found himself next to Avery. He smiled at the grizzled warrior, who said with grave understanding, “You wonder whether God has cursed you or blessed you. Listen, it is hard for her, sir, to leave her home and all that she has known.”

“Has she been a problem whilst I was gone, Avery?”

Avery chuckled, stroking his coarse, graying beard. “Nay, my lady is never a problem, though she did yell at Ponce when he chanced to recall your skill with the bow.”

“A crime indeed. I hope she didn’t crush him underfoot.”

“Nay, he hid behind the target to escape her. She wants taming, I suppose, but one forgets that she is a girl, and not a cocky lad.”

“She was never a cocky lad to me,” Jerval said.

“No,” Avery said slowly, eyeing the young man, “I know that she was not.”

Jerval nodded to Avery, then went to speak to his father, who was drinking some of Lord Richard’s sweet mulled wine, one hand stroking Graynard’s massive head, and looking quite blissful.

Just after dawn on the morning of her wedding, Chandra slipped from the keep and made her way in the chill, low-lying fog to the east tower on the outer wall. It had been a favorite haunt since childhood, a quiet, isolated spot.

A tired guard stood silent vigil some twenty feet away, leaning forward on the crenellated wall, and did not hear her approach. She had passed but one of the guests outside the keep, a man in Sir Stephen’s service, on his way to the jakes. Soon, she knew, the servants would be up and about, and the guests who had had to spend the night wrapped in blankets in the Great Hall would be jostled awake by the racket. The barracks were packed and even the wall chambers overflowed with guests.

She sighed and crouched down against the damp stone wall, pulling her fur-lined cloak close about her. She ran her finger slowly over the rough stone surface, tracing the chipped crannies that had been deep in the stone before her birth. She rested her head against the stones and felt tears sting her eyes. She could not imagine leaving Croyland.

It was there that Mary found her, curled up fast asleep, her head leaning against the hard stone.

“Chandra,” Mary said quietly, touching her hand to her friend’s shoulder.

Chandra jerked awake. “Oh, goodness, is it already time?”

“No, it is still early. I am sorry to disturb you, Chandra, but I wished to speak to you. I could not find you, and guessed that perhaps you would be here.”

“It’s the only private place left.” She looked closely at her friend and said, even as she jerked her fingers through her tangled hair, “I am sorry, Mary. I’m selfish, thinking only of my own plight. Come, sit beside me.”

“You have said nothing to your father, have you, Chandra? About what happened? About what Graelam did?”

“Of course not.”

Mary drew a deep breath. “I cannot remain at Croyland, Chandra, once you leave. Please, take me with you to Camberley. I could not bear to return to my father’s keep, knowing that he would give me eventually to someone in marriage, and that I would have to tell him I am no longer a maid. I could not bear the shame of it. Nor do I know what he would do. I do not know how much worth I have to him. At least with you, I would have more time.”

“You truly wish to come with me? Oh, Mary, I hadn’t asked you because I didn’t believe you would want to come to a strange keep, with people you don’t know.”

“You don’t know them either.”

“You’re right, but I have no choice. You do. Of course you will come with me. Oh, your wretched father, he wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t your fault. Aye, come with me. Are you sure you can deal well enough with Lady Avicia and Julianna?”

Mary merely shrugged. “Julianna is just jealous of you, that is all. She will doubtless bite her tongue once you are wed. As for Lady Avicia, she is a bit overpowering, I will admit that, but not a malicious person. She has been kind to me.”

Chandra cursed suddenly, quite vile curses she’d learned when she was six years old from her father’s man, Clyde. Then she said, “I just remembered that I must ask Jerval’s permission, for Camberley is his home.”

“Do you think he will permit it?”

“Of course he will.”

“You are right. Jerval would deny you nothing.” She paused a moment, looking out toward the fog-veiled harbor. “How very lucky you are.”

“How can you say I’m lucky when I must leave Croyland?”

“I can hardly imagine you wanting to spend the rest of your life here, Chandra, particularly after John grows up and becomes the lord of Croyland. He would make your life a misery. He tries to do that now. Can you imagine the kind of girl he will marry?”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical
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