The Lily and the Sword (Medieval 1)

William nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, “you will.”

Lily was frozen to the spot. Hew meant to make war again in the north. And Radulf would fight him.

For a moment the brightly decorated hall with its many candles seemed to waver and dance about her. With an immense effort of will, Lily prevented herself from fainting. Fainting, she thought furiously, would accomplish nothing. Words would.

“Hew thinks only of winning,” she said loudly. “He does not care how many lives he destroys in the process. He will draw men and boys to him because he is English, and tells them he fights for their freedom and has their well-being at heart. He will lie.”

Silence. Radulf was glaring at her as if he wanted her to be quiet. Lily ignored him. The king was listening

, and that was all that mattered.

“If I go with Lord Radulf, and speak, those men and boys will listen to me. If they do not, then their wives and mothers will. Hew has the advantage of familiarity. Lord Radulf has not, except through the tales that are told about him, and they do not inspire confidence. How can frightened and starving people rally to a giant, or a warrior whose sword arm never tires, or a monster who eats their children? They will run from Radulf! But if I am there by his side, then they will question such tales. They will listen to me and see Radulf as he truly is rather than as he is portrayed in legend. Sire, I must go with Lord Radulf. We must prevent another long war in the north. My country, my people, cannot bear it.”

King William was stroking his clean-shaven chin. “You speak sense, lady. This was, after all, why I married you to my Sword.” A swift, mocking glance at Radulf. “If you are seen to support Radulf and encourage the obedience of your people to him, then many more will follow in your steps. Yes! You make good sense, lady. What say you, Radulf?”

Radulf looked as if he wanted to say a great deal. “No.”

William blinked in surprise, then his expression quickly darkened. “You are overhasty, my lord. I like the idea. Your lady will go with you and see what she can do to help disperse any rebels tempted to join Lord Kenton’s force. You will have your hands full defeating them as it is, without their army growing any greater. Do you not trust her?”

This last was spoken very softly, for Radulf and Lily alone. Radulf hesitated, and felt Lily stiffen at his side. “She is my wife,” he said slowly. “I trust her as much as she trusts me.”

William slapped his shoulder, a blow so hard that it shifted Radulf forward an inch or two. “Well, then! She goes with you. Peace, Radulf, that is what we need. Peace! First defeat Kenton’s army, and then I will deal with the man himself.”

When Radulf bowed, William clasped his hand. “I will not insult you by asking that you take care.”

“Aye,” sighed Radulf, “I am immortal, sire, remember?”

The king and Radulf had discussed how many men were available to fight at such short notice, and how many of the closer landowners would send troops. Because it had all happened so fast, Radulf’s army would not be as large as he wished. Radulf had then spoken to Lord Henry’s man, questioning him until he had extracted every ounce of information from him.

Now they were awaiting their horses outside William’s castle, standing in the chill darkness while torches flared from sconces on the walls. The air smelled of the river and the sweet blossoms of some unseen tree.

“We will leave at first light,” Radulf informed Jervois. “There will be no dallying on the journey this time. It appears Lord Henry is outnumbered, and even when we reach him, we may still be outnumbered—but that has never stopped us before.”

His smile was savage; his eyes shone black in the firelight. Lily looked up at his big, tough body and understood why his name was the stuff of folklore.

“Aye, sir.” Jervois chimed in with a bloodthirsty laugh. “We will finish them off once and for all. This Hew’s head would make a fine ornament on the Bootham Gate.”

Lily thought of Hew’s pretty face and fine blond hair and was neither sickened nor shocked. He deserved to die. So many lives had already been lost because of his lies and greed. Now her plan for a peaceful and prosperous north was in the balance. “As long as it is not your head upon the gate, Radulf, or yours, Jervois, I do not care.”

The two men looked at Lily in surprise. Jervois, she noticed, then became lost in thought. After he had gone to hurry the grooms with the horses, Radulf said, “You would not weep for Hew?”

Lily shook her head. “No, I would not. If I wanted him to win I wouldn’t be coming north with you.”

Radulf shifted. She knew he was angry—she could read it in his tight mouth and hard eyes—but she reminded herself that his anger was unimportant when she had such an enormous task to accomplish.

Radulf must fight a battle and Lily must save her people. Right now, even the love she felt for him was unimportant. And yet…

“You told the king you trusted me.” The words burst out of her.

“As much as you trust me,” he reminded her. “How much do you trust me, Lily?”

Her throat went dry. She trusted him more than any other man she had known since her father’s death, but her streak of self-preservation was too well developed for her to tell him so.

He spoke again when she didn’t answer, his tone deceptively mild and unconcerned. “I will take you with me, and you will do what you promised to do. We will both obey the king and see this matter brought to an end. And then we will go home to Crevitch, and it will all be forgotten.”

He was offering her a truce.

She smiled, her lips trembling. “Very well, my lord. The north, and then to Crevitch.”