Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“Leave her be,” Jerval said. He rose slowly and towered over Sir John. Sir John, no fool, backed up. Jerval leaned down to help Lady Faye to her feet. She was all right, just pale. At least she was all right this time. He imagined that Sir John hit her fairly often. “It was a simple accident, no cause to strike her.”

Sir John looked at his cringing wife, then calmed himself. He would see to her later. He cleared his throat. “I hear you have taken a wife, my lord. I wager she is not a silly sheep like this one.”

“Actually, Sir John, my wife would cut your throat for what you just did to your wife, were she here with me.”

Sir John looked appalled, then stuttered a laugh. “Ah, that is a jest, isn’t it, my lord?”

“No, it isn’t.” Then Jerval said abruptly, “I will see your accounts now, Sir John. Your payment to the de Vernons this year was not according to your pledge.”

“As I said, Sir Jerval, the crops did not yield much.” Jerval saw the lie in Sir John’s eyes, but kept his expression bland. “As to the accounts, I did not expect you, my lord, and I fear that my steward, a rascally fellow I dismissed from Oldham just last week, was cheating me.”

“I see,” said Jerval. “I will see the accounts anyway.”

“Certainly, my lord,” Sir John said. He looked toward the unshuttered windows, smiled to himself, and said, as jovial as a man could be, “It grows dark. Perhaps you would like to wait until tomorrow? Tonight, after you have eaten, I will send you a lovely morsel to while away the long night.”

To Mark’s surprise, Jerval said in the voice of an eager young man, “An excellent suggestion, Sir John.”

Sir John very nearly rubbed his hands together.

Mark waited until he and Jerval had been shown to the one private chamber above the hall by a furtive serving maid before he opened his mouth to protest. Jerval shook his head and placed his fingertip to his lips until the girl had slipped from the room. He remained silent as he gazed about at the oddly bare chamber. There was but one stool and an old chest against the end of the bed, and the bed itself, though large and comfortable, was covered with worn, tattered blankets.

Jerval said thoughtfully, “It is too bare and poor, as if someone had stripped the chamber of its trappings. Did you notice the rings on Sir John’s fingers, Mark?”

Mark nodded slowly, and a smile spread over his face.

“I wonder,” Jerval continued, thoughtful still, “where his lady wife sleeps.”

Rough tables were pressed together to accommodate Jerval, Mark, Malton and three of their men at supper. Lady Faye was nowhere to be seen. The girl, Dora, was seated next to Jerval. She had been hastily bathed, but there was still dirt under her fingernails. She wasn’t uncomely, and she was very young. There was a smug, assessing look in her dark eyes, and he grinned to himself. The meal was surprisingly well prepared, and Jerval, Mark and Malton were careful to eat and drink only what Sir John did, as were all their men.

Jerval smiled at Dora and deliberately cupped his hand over her full breast. “More wine, my lord?” she whispered against his ear, pressing her breasts against his arm.

“Aye,” he said, though he had no intention of drinking it.

“I have another girl for you, Sir Mark,” Sir John said as the meal progressed. “You need have no fear that you will spend the night alone.”

Jerval sent his host a lustful grin and said in a slurred voice, “Send her to the chamber, Sir John. We will enjoy the both of them together.”

Sir John could scarce keep his satisfaction to himself. Young men had mighty appetites, and it would serve him well tonight.

The other girl was neither as clean nor as comely as Dora, yet she appeared eager enough. She too, Jerval saw, had been hastily bathed. He bade Sir John a drunken good night and allowed Dora to take his hand and pull him with her up the stairs.

Jerval’s expression did not change when they entered the bedchamber. “Take off your clothes, girls,” he said, leaning his back against the closed door. “Mark, shall we draw lots to see who takes them first?”

“And you, my lord?” Dora said. “Will you not allow me to help you remove your tunic?”

“In a moment, Dora.”

Jerval watched dispassionately as the girls quickly stripped off their clothes. When they both stood naked, their young bodies white in the light of the on

e torch, Jerval walked forward and stroked his chin, as if assessing them. Dora grabbed his hand and guided it to her breast.

“I will make you forget everything, my lord,” Dora whispered, her hand stroking down his belly. Jerval lightly shoved her away before she could discover that he was as flaccid as a man who’d just jumped into a cold river.

“Hand me your shift, Dora.” The girl cocked her head in question but did as she was told. Jerval ripped it into strips, paying no heed to Dora’s squawk of anger.

“I suggest,” Jerval said, “that both of you keep your mouths shut.”

When both girls were bound and gagged, Jerval and Mark carried them to the bed and covered them with blankets.