The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

“Very well, my lord,” she whispered. “I will be guided by him.”

Jacob swallowed, but did not allow his shock to silence him for long. “The blue wool, certainly, my lady, and this fine linen to go beneath it.”

He continued pointing to various rolls of cloth, and the list grew until he came to the red velvet, so deep it was almost purple. “My lady would look very fair in a gown of this,” he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. Which meant, thought Lily, the price was exorbitant.

She began to shake her head, but Radulf spoke first. “Then we must have the red, Jacob.” He laughed at the amazed look Lily threw him. “You will indeed look very fair, lady,” he mocked. And then, leaning closer, his breath tickling her ear, “Almost as fair as you do when I have you naked in my arms.”

She turned her head sharply, finding his face almost touching hers. Briefly she felt herself to be drowning in the darkness of his eyes, and then one of York’s church bells rang, loud and strident in the still, warm air, and the moment was gone.

The bell seemed to remind Radulf of other, more pressing matters. He shifted restlessly. “We have finished for now,” he said. Arrangements were made for the materials to be delivered and Jacob was given the direction of the inn. Leaving the man goggle-eyed at his good fortune, Radulf strode outside where his men were gathered, his grip on Lily forcing her to quicken her pace.

Correctly reading his lord’s expression, Jervois hurried to remount, calling to the others to make haste. The sun glinted off their chain mail and the puddles in the street. Radulf led them at a brisk pace, as though he had something to outrun. Or, thought Lily miserably, as if he had some urgent appointment.

The memory instantly spoiled her naive pleasure in her new garments. Of what use were lovely new clothes when the man she wanted to admire her, admired another?

Radulf was angry, and that anger was directed at himself. What had he hoped to achieve by heaping such generosity upon Lily? Did he think she would turn to him with dazzled eyes and fling herself into his arms? She already gave him her body willingly; what else did he want?

The question startled him, and he twitched his shoulders uncomfortably. You are a fool, Radulf, he thought bitterly. You are your father all over again. You buy the girl pretty clothes, shower her with riches, and think that will endear you to her. Instead she will want more and more, and in the end, when you have no more to give her, she will betray you with another who can.

She hates you, face the truth, and hates you all the more for enslaving her body to yours. She is a Viking temptress, a she-devil; she destroyed Vorgen. Beware!

But he couldn’t quite believe it. There had been an expression in her eyes when he ordered the red velvet, as though she were touched beyond words. It had been enough to send his heart soaring, until reality crashed him back to earth. Did he really want a wife who valued him only for the pretty baubles he could give her?

When they reached the inn, Radulf swung Lily down without thinking. Her hair, which she had been unable to plait because of their earlier haste, spilled free from her cloak. Before he could stop himself, Radulf reached out and took a strand between his fingers and thumb, fascinated by the look and feel of it even as he despaired at his own weakness.

Lily cleared her throat, her hands clasped tightly together. “Thank you, my lord; you are very generous.”

Radulf cocked an eyebrow, measuring her words. She appeared uneasy, as if gratitu

de was not something with which she was familiar. “A wealthy man does not lose much by being generous. You are my wife, Lily. Besides, I have not finished yet. I will take a house here in York, and you will choose your servants.”

He had not called her Lily of late, preferring the more formal Lady Wilfreda or lady. And it was this, as much as his statement about the house and servants, that undid her. Lily’s heart gave an unexpected jolt, and a shudder ran through her. She would have turned away, but Radulf caught her chin in his strong fingers and forced it up again, so he could see into her eyes. They were glittering with unshed tears.

Some emotion lit his own eyes, surprise maybe, or suspicion. He frowned. “You are unhappy?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

Lily bit her trembling lip and shook her head, struggling to control her uncharacteristic display. “No, my lord,” she replied huskily. “I am very happy.”

He frowned a moment longer, trying to pierce the secrets in her stormy eyes. “We are wed now. We must both make the best of it.” Impatience flared in his face. “Come. You are tired and this nonsense has made me hungry.”

Suddenly Lily decided she would not sit idly by while Radulf went off to meet Lady Anna. She would follow him and watch, and then she would know exactly what she was up against. Surely that was only good sense? A soldier going into battle spied out the land on which he would fight, and the enemy he would face. So would she.

After their meal, each member of Radulf’s party became immersed in his or her own affairs. For the men, there were weapons and equipment to inspect and clean and repair, as well as horses to groom. All those little matters upon which their lives might depend. Radulf and Jervois discussed at length the possible site for the northern castle they must build. Jervois was prepared to remain in the north and oversee the work after it had begun, which would allow Radulf to return to Crevitch for a brief time and check on matters there.

Lily found solace in borrowing needle and thread from Una and mending any item of clothing which required her attention. The mundane task allowed her to concentrate her thoughts. She had decided upon a plan for following Radulf, but it would require good luck and cunning in equal measure.

There was one thing of which she was certain: Radulf would never expect her to spy on him. Norman wives did not question their husbands, and as far as Radulf was concerned, the rebellious she-devil was now a Norman wife.

We are wed now. We must make the best of it.

Must they? Perhaps a Norman wife would sit back while her husband made love to another woman, but Lily was half Viking and half English, proud and determined. Following him was the sensible thing to do. In her precarious position, she could not afford to sit by and lose the only thing that bound Radulf to her; she could not afford to give that up to another woman. If she saw for herself, heard for herself, perhaps she could find a way to win him back to her side.

So Lily had spoken privately to Una soon after their return to the inn.

Una had been surprised at the request made of her and gave Lily a suspicious look.

“You say you want me to deliver a message to this Alice of Rennoc, lady? Why don’t you ask your lord’s men to deliver it? I do not have a horse to carry me or Lord Radulf’s colors to see me past any obstacles.”

Lily could not rely upon Radulf to see the urgency of the matter, and she did not want to stir his curiosity. “Please, Una, I will reward you well. All you have to do is go to Alice of Rennoc’s uncle’s house, and tell her that Lily wishes her to visit. Only it must seem as if it is her own idea, and she is to bring a horse and a manservant who knows the city well. Can you remember all that? Please, Una. You have been a friend to me during my difficult times; do this last thing.”