Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“Durwald struck her.”

“Oh, no,” Jerval said. “That is a lie.”

Sir John had forgotten that he’d hit Faye in front of Jerval de Vernon. Damnation, such a mild blow it had been, it had barely marked her. “She was the one who must have warned him that you would be there.”

Chandra said, “If your wife is behind all this wickedness, Sir John, then why do you wear the rings and the velvet?”

Sir John looked at the beautiful young woman who was undoubtedly Sir Jerval’s new wife. Why did he allow her to speak so freely? To question him?

“I have offered to give her anything she wishes, but she refuses,” said Sir John.

It was so ridiculous that Chandra couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “You are a pathetic man, Sir John. Soon, at least, your lady wife will be free from your abuse.”

Sir John stared at the girl. That she was even allowed in the men’s presence still shocked him. But that she would speak of executing him—she was naught but a worthless woman—angered him beyond reason.

“She is a stupid cow,” Sir John yelled. “She is barren. You have naught to say about any of this, girl. Shut your cursed mouth!”

“Enough!” Lord Hugh bellowed.

Jerval said, “Chandra is right, Father. There is no doubt at all that Sir John has been in league with the Scots for a long time now. He is responsible for the loss of our stock. I think the money from the sale of all his rings will provide Lady Faye enough to live comfortably. She bears no blame in this, I am certain.”

He looked toward Lady Faye, and was surprised to see the haunted look gone from her eyes and her thin shoulders drawn back. Jerval said to his wife, “ Chandra, would you please see that Lady Faye is made comfortable?”

“Aye, my lord, it would be my pleasure.” She smiled at Lady Faye and took her hand to lead her away.

“You should not be swayed by foolish women, Lord Hugh.”

Sir John saw only a blur of movement. Jerval’s fist smashed against his jaw, and he dropped where he stood. “I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw him.” Jerval rubbed his knuckles. “To see his fat body swinging from a gibbet will please me even more.”

And so it was done.

Lady Faye, Chandra discovered, was the eldest of four daughters of an impoverished knight from the south of England, near Rye. She was shocked to learn that Lady Faye was only twenty-seven years old, for she was so bowed and thin, her hair as scraggly as Alma’s. There was a look of hopeless suffering etched into her pale face. “But why did you wed Sir John?” she asked as she herself helped bathe Lady Faye.

Lady Faye winced slightly as the washcloth touched her bruised ribs. “Not everyone is as lucky as you, Lady Chandra,” she said, without rancor. “Sir Jerval is not only an extremely handsome young man—he is also kind, an uncommon quality in a husband.”

Chandra said absolutely nothing, though she was thinking about his body over hers, his mouth touching her, caressing her. Lady Faye didn’t know the half of it.

“Sir John is—was—a mean, greedy man,” Lady Faye said, no emotion in her voice. “My father, poor man, had four girls to contend with. Ten years ago, I suppose that Sir John looked at my meager dowry as sufficient, but of course it did not last long.”

Mary helped alter one of Chandra’s gowns to fit Lady Faye, who was some inches shorter, and much thinner. Chandra presented her proudly at supper the evening after Sir John’s hanging, an event to which Lady Faye appeared oblivious, and placed her in her own chair.

“You are such a kind child,” Lady Faye said to her, “but is it wise to bring me to sup with the family?”

“No one has ever called me kind, Lady Faye. Nor am I a child. You are but a few years older than I, and soon, after you have added some pounds, you will look even younger. I doubt not that I will be telling folk that you are my younger sister.”

Lady Faye smiled. “You are as kind as your husband, and I will never let you forget it. I thank you, Chandra.”

Jerval greeted Lady Faye, smiling because he’d heard her words. He was surprised at the change in her, though he had no idea what they were going to do with Sir John’s widow.

Lady Avicia inclined her head politely and offered Faye a huge helping of roast lamb. “A man will not want you again unless you fill out my daughter-in-law’s gown.”

“Mayhap,” Chandra said, her chin up, “Lady Faye does not want another husband. Her first was a monster.”

Lord Hugh said, “Sir John’s jewels will bring sufficient funds for another dowry if Lady Faye wishes it.” For the first time Hugh saw the potential of the young woman.

Julianna said, “Chandra’s gown is not a becoming color for you, Lady Faye. I have a pink wool that you may have.”

Chandra stared at Julianna, so surprised that she did not at first see that Faye was silently weeping.