Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“I have never believed myself less than my lord, nor do I perceive that Jerval yearns for the cowering, veiled Moslem women. I have my responsibilities, my duties, just as does Edward. Together, we make a whole and a meaningful life. Our marriage vows bind us, but it is our love and our respect for each other that give us joy. Are you so unhappy, child?”

Chandra shook her head. “Nay, I have not been so really since we left England. I thank you, Eleanor, for convincing Jerval to allow me to come with him.”

You were so miserable at Camberley, Eleanor wanted to say, so unknowing of yourself and your husband, I only wanted to help you, but she said only, “I believe I hear Edward. Ah, Jerval is with him.”

CHAPTER 24

“My lord,” Eleanor said, rising to greet Edward. He took her hand and pressed her back gently onto the cushions. “Nay, my love, do not disturb our babe.” He sank down on a cushion next to his wife and rested his hand on Eleanor’s stomach, grinning with pleasure. “Jerval, it is time you filled Chandra’s belly. I vow she’ll look nearly as beautiful as Eleanor when she is with child.”

“Such things take time, my lord,” Jerval said. And he thought of the long weeks he hadn’t touched her, then of the endless nights in Tunis and here on Sicily that he’d spent loving her. He nearly shuddered thinking about how it felt to be deep inside her, touching her womb. And then he realized that she hadn’t wept, not once since he’d made love to her after they’d left England. Nor had she left their bed before he’d awakened the next morning.

“You, my lord,” Eleanor said, “seem to take all the credit.”

“I would kill any other man who dared to,” Edward said.

Chandra jumped to her feet and said to Jerval, “Cannot we walk for a while? Along the palace walls?”

Jerval rose gracefully and looked toward Edward.

“Aye, get you gone, Jerval. I have no need of you until tonight; then it’s yet another meeting with Charles. The man is more stubborn than a goat with an old boot. Aye, go bring roses back into your wife’s cheeks.”

As they strolled away along the marble balcony, Chandra heard Eleanor giggle. “They are so happy,” she said. “They are what they are and they are happy.”

He said, not looking at her, “That is because they accept each other for what they are.”

“And you do not accept me for what I am.”

He looked at her then. “Do you know that I was furious when I knew you were coming with me?”

“Aye, I know it.”

“But my anger fell away quickly enough. You change daily, Chandra.” He shrugged. “I know that I would give anything to carry you into the gardens below and have my way with you.”

She realized she wanted him as well, right this moment. She looked away from him. They stopped along the balcony wall, and Jerval leaned his elbows on the smooth mosaic tiles to look out over the blue Mediterranean.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “Not at all like the winters at home. I have yet to spend a winter at Camberley. Is there much snow?”

“Aye. Three years ago the lake froze. We rubbed wooden planks with duck lard and held races.” He grinned. “You should have seen Bayon. Rolfe gave him a mighty shove and he went flying over the ice, flailing his arms, screaming for God to save him. He smashed into bushes, but he didn’t get hurt because there was so much snow.” He turned to face her. “When we are home, the lake will freeze again. Mayhap I will allow you to race against me.”

“I am grown so soft, I would likely break my neck.” She thrust her arm toward him and pushed up her loose sleeve. “Feel, Jerval, I have scarce any muscle left.”

He closed his fingers about her upper arm and squeezed gently. “Aye, you are soft, but it is not at all displeasing, at least to me.”

“You’d best be careful that I become too weak to ply my needle on your tunics.”

He couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t taken offense. Maybe she really was changing, growing more content to be a woman, to be his wife and not some proud and vainglorious warrior. He lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “How are you passing your days? I scarce see you.”

“You know I spend most of my time with the women. Sometimes I grow so tired of their chatter. And the waiting. How went your hunt?”

“Well. We brought down three deer and one boar. I also grow tired of all the men’s talk. Waiting is the same for all of us.”

“Hunting would not be boring. I would surely love to go hunting the next time.”

“I’m sorry, Chandra, but it is only men. I wouldn’t want you to be the only lady on the hunt.”

“I was always the only lady at home.”

“Not here. It simply isn’t done. I’m sorry, but we must both be patient.”