Ela woke to the sounds of birds chirping and Henry making an odd sound above her. Opening her eyes to the tree branches, she blinked—recalling each loving moment beneath the stars. Her belly tingled—as did other parts of her body—and she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.
She realized that she was both naked and alone at the same time.
Quickly reaching for her blue gown—St. Mary Magdalene only knew what had become of her undergarment—Ela drew the fabric down over her tangled hair and got to her feet, unsteadily and with a groan of satisfied soreness.
Henry bounded across the tree branches, chastising her from above. “Don’t yell at me,” she pointed her finger at the polecat and grinned. “Today is my wedding day. I don’t suppose you know where the groom is?”
Henry jumped down to the tree trunk, as agile with three legs as he would have been with four. He tore off across the grass at the base of the tree, to where Bartholomew calmly chewed and nibbled at the grass. There was no sign of Osbert.
“He can’t have changed his mind … not again. Not after last eve.” She hugged her arms around her waist and raised her face to the sun. “This is a blessed day.”
“I couldn’t agree more, my lady.”
Osbert carried a skin, dripping with water, and a handful of blackberries. “Last time you brought me food to break my fast. This time, I would be your servant.”
Her heart leapt with happiness. Ela ran toward her handsome and marvelous lover and jumped into his arms. He had to drop the fruit and skin, or drop her.
The provisions fell to the ground as he met her mouth in an open kiss that took her breath from her lungs to her mouth—to his.
“You are divine,” she said against his neck. “Did I mention I thought you looked like a Roman god?”
He growled against her throat and cupped her buttocks with his large, capable hands.
She tugged at his shoulders.
“Nay, vixen. I’ll not bed you again until we are good and wed. Last night was but a taste of what married life will be.” He pinched her bottom then dropped her to the ground. “Watch out for the berries, they were scarce.”
He bent down, his bare shoulders tan and muscled and scarred in the sun’s light. She’d felt his scars last evening, but hadn’t thought to comment on them. She’d not felt any residual pain or infection, so she thought it best to leave that for another day … Ela had an idea that the story of his scars would tie in with the story of his childhood.
When he stretched upward, a handful of berries in his palm, her mouth was watering, aye, but because of the line of darkly golden hair that led beneath his breeches.
She sucked in a stream of air and reached for a berry.
Plopping the tart fruit in her mouth, she closed her eyes and thought of anything but her almost husband, standing nearly naked before her.
His taste was stronger than the fruit, and she carried his scent in her nostrils. The remembered feel of his muscled abdomen beneath her fingers made her belly tighten, and she bit her lower lip, desperately trying to think of … anything else.
Os chuckled behind her. “I can feel your desire, and don’t think, Ela, that I want you less. ‘Tis simply that I don’t want to miss our appointment with the priest. I will have you, by God and all that is holy. I will have land and a home, Ela.”
Her desire ebbed. He’d been ordered to marry her by his liege lord. For land. For a chance to make his own home. What if—nay. Last evening had been proof enough for her that his love was genuine.
He was the suspicious one.
He showed her a small trickle of a cold stream where she washed before they left for the castle. “I’d like to have a proper bath before our wedding. But this is the only dress I have, and now it has grass stains on it.”
Os helped her up on top of Bartholomew, settling her before him as if she were precious glass. He kissed her cheek. “There will come a day when I will buy you a different dress for each hour of the day.”
Ela laughed. “And what about the night, sir jester?”
“At night,” he growled, “you will be naked. No night-clothes betwixt us. Aye, I think that will be my first demand as your husband.”
“You think to give me many demands, Osbert?”
“Nay, my lady Ela. You are my princess, and there will be no demands made upon you that you wouldn’t willingly offer.”
She snuggled back against his chest, content to learn how to love—something she’d never thought to find for herself—while remaining herself. The fact that she still couldn’t detect Os’s aura was a small worry. I should have asked Kailyn about that.
By the time they reached the castle gates, the Earl of Norfolk’s estate was bustling as people went about their errands. “Who are all these people?” Ela’s hectic life at the manor house seemed quiet and sedate compared to the hustle here.
“Freedmen come to the courts in the left tower to pay taxes or rent. Merchants get their licenses—it is mostly official business. The earl’s family is in residence, so that means more grooms for the horses, more chambermaids—more inside staff. The Countess Ida never goes anywhere without her personal priest and each of the children has their own nurse.”
“Which means that the kitchens would require more servants … it would be very difficult to keep the enemy out, if you didn’t know they were the enemy.”
“Are you thinking of Thomas de Havel? He is more of a weasel than Henry here, and the castellan will have orders to ensure the knight doesn’t get past the gates.”
Shivering, Ela said, “I was thinking of Lady Steffen.”
“You think she’s evil?”
“Not evil … just … confused. She has to know that her son is an abomination.” Chills dotted Ela’s nape.
“They say that a mother’s love is blind.”
“Who says that?” Ela demanded, turning to kiss Os on the chin. “We should find them and have them drawn and quartered at dawn.”
“You are a bloodthirsty little wench—obviously left over from your time as Ana.”
Ela smiled to herself, wondering if Os realized that he was accepting their shared past as fact. There was nothing logical about what had happened, yet he loved her enough to accept it anyway.
The bell in the church tower tolled eleven times. “I won’t have time for a bath!”
“I think you smell nice. You smell like me.” His voice was low and seductive, his breath warm against her ear.
“Stop it,” she ordered with a squirm. “You wanted to wait ‘til we were married, so it isn’t fair to tease.” A groom came to take Bartholomew’s reins as they stopped outside the stables.
“I’ll need to talk to Albric and Warin about joining us—oh, and St. Germaine. You got on well with them, did you not?”
“For certes, invite who you like. I’m ready to begin our new life. Together.”
The first of May and Beltane seemed like yesterday, and yet Midsummer’s Eve was less than a fortnight away. If they traveled fast, she might be in her new home in time to celebrate the festival with the villagers at Montehue Manor.
They walked toward the castle steps. “I’ll go to my chamber to try and get the grass from my hair,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“I’ll meet you in the great hall.”
Even though public displays of affection were not considered polite, he kissed her fully, igniting that spark to a delicious flame. “You are a changed man, Osbert Edyvean. And I think I like it.”
He went in search of his friends while she floated up the stone steps. Determined to find her chamber and some hot water, and aye, a brush, she kept her head down as she went toward the stairs leading to her rooms. She’d not even reached the first step when she was stopped by a frantic lady-in-waiting. “Lady Ela of Montehue?”
“Aye.” Ela noted the petite woman’s flushed cheeks and bright, panic-filled eyes. “What is it? Is someone ill?” The villagers at home all knew to come to her if they were sick. And they often had that same look of panic.
“Ill? No, no, my lady—’tis the Countess Isabella.”
“Countess Isabella—I thought her name was Ida.” Mayhap the earl had two wives as well as two mistresses?
“The Earl calls her that too, for a pet name. But”—the lady-in-waiting grasped Ela’s forearm—”she wants to see you immediately. I waited outside your chamber almost all night …” The lady-in-waiting took a breath and finally realized that Ela’s attire was wrinkled and her hair was a mess—and missing its veils.
“Oh.”
A flush crept up Ela’s neck. “I would like to freshen up, and then I will be happy to see the countess.”
“We can’t wait, I’m sorry. ‘Tis terribly urgent. My lady has been crying all evening.”
Ela patted her hair, which was knotted in a loose bun with escaping tendrils that hung down her back like vines from a tree. “I am not presentable—I am to get married in less than an hour. Mayhap after the ceremony?”
“Nay, nay.” The woman pulled on her arm, taking her to the private tower of the earl’s family.
Ela allowed herself to be led toward the countess. Her duties as a healer compelled her. “Why is she crying?”
“She will tell you everything. And while you listen, I will untangle your hair.”
Ela perked up at that. “Lead on.”
As they neared the chamber, Ela sensed great sadness. Her steps slowed, and she decided that she really didn’t want to enter the countess’s rooms.
The lady-in-waiting knocked once, then opened the door. “Come.”
Stepping over the threshold as cautiously as if she were entering a bear’s cave, Ela stilled, closed her eyes and absorbed the energies of the room.
Angry reds and muddied oranges filled her mind, possibly meaning bitter arguments and worry. She opened her eyes, slowly, letting them become accustomed to the dim, candlelit room.
Countess Ida sat in her bed, propped up with pillows. Her pale face was ravaged with emotion, and her trembling hands clutched the coverlet.
She lifted one of those spectral hands and gestured for Ela to come closer. “Sit,” she whispered. “Please.”
Ela did as she was asked, taking in the ugly red energy mass above the countess’s belly. “A miscarriage?”
“How did you know?” The countess hiccupped.
“I … I have a gift for healing.”
“That is not why I asked for you to see me.”
Ela nodded, her attention distracted by the pain the countess had to be feeling. The healer in her wanted to press her hands to the wounded abdomen, and—”What do you think?”
“Hmm,” Ela replied noncommitally and pinched herself to focus on what the woman was saying.
“We had a terrible fight. Why must he have a mistress? More than one at a time, even? I see to his needs, aye, but he gets bored. He is a powerful man, the earl is, and it is my duty to love and honor and obey him. But I don’t like it. Nay, I hate it.”
Ela nodded, uncomfortable at being an unwilling confidant.
“I wanted to know if you truly wished to wed—for if you didn’t, then I would protest. You are a beautiful young woman without a high station—most fortunate.” The countess waved her hand. “I was a bartering tool, but I had the misfortune to fall in love with my husband.”
“I see …” Ela stared down at her lap.
The countess patted her stomach and burst into fresh tears. “I am nothing but a titled brood mare.”
“Now, now …” The lady-in-waiting came forward with a brush, a basin filled with perfumed water, and a towel. “I am certain that the earl loves you, my lady. He stays here in residence with you, when he doesn’t have to, aye?”
The lady-in-waiting gave a sharp glance to Ela and a jerk of her chin.
Oh! “Aye, yea. The earl truly loves you. I saw it in the way he kissed your cheek yesterday.”
“You did?” Countess Ida stopped crying.
“Aye. He seemed very proud of you.” And completely oblivious to the fact that he’d hurt her by having a love affair with Lady Steffen. Men. Would Osbert stray? Nay—the man had the willpower of a monk.
“I make him smile, he says.”
Love. It had seemed so sweet just this morning.
The lady-in-waiting stood behind Ela and started to brush through the tangles with firm strokes. “My lady Isabella is an amusing companion. Unfortunately, her dear friend Natalia had to leave unexpectedly, leaving my lady alone with her worries.”
Lady Steffen was gone? Ela wondered if it had been a forced ejection from the friendship as well as the castle. Would she try and find her son? To what purpose?
The lady-in-waiting lightly tapped Ela on the head. “Oh? Oh …” Ela looked at the countess as if she’d heard every word.
“I said that I wished I had a friend. A friend I could count on. Not you, dear,” the countess said with a small smile. “My friends from now on will need to be ugly.”
Startled, Ela laughed, and the sound echoed around the dreary chamber.
“I know you went to visit Kailyn last night. I wish to know what you learned. Roger tells me he is searching for some magical spear to lead into a possible war, but I think he’s lying to protect his Iceni whore.”
Ela swallowed, quickly thinking on what to answer—and in what order. “My lady, it is true that I went to visit Kailyn—she is a cousin of sorts. Her home is small, very cozy. Not a single silk curtain or glass cup. You could fit her entire house into this chamber, and you would still have more room.”
The countess peered at her, ascertaining if she was telling the truth.
“I was surprised to find my … cousin, to be plump. Wan around the face. But kind.”
“I heard that she can see the future.”
“Yea? Well, she did for me, as well. She saw my marriage to Os.” Ela let her happiness shine through, hoping to remind the countess that she was supposed to be downstairs in a few moments’ time. She wasn’t exactly lying—Kailyn had seen Ana with Antonias, and that might count as a truth.
“Marriage! That’s right—’tis to be at noon today. Oh dear. Well, Nance has your hair done. Wash your hands and face, and choose a gown from my wardrobe. Never mind,” the countess swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced.
Ela stood. “My lady—may I try to ease your pain?”
Confused, Countess Ida shook her head, but Ela wouldn’t accept no as an answer. “I am quite good. All the people at Montehue Manor know they can come to me with their illnesses.” Gently pushing her back on the bed, Ela placed her hand over the shocked countess’s belly, sending healing waves of light to unblock the mass of pain within her woman’s parts. Ela concentrated on making everything whole, so that Countess Ida would still be able to carry children.
Five minutes later, the countess rose to her feet. “Was that magic?”
Ela stared at the floor and shook her head. “It is a gift from God. An inherited talent.”
“It doesn’t matter. God bless you, and thank you. Now, I was going to give you a dress to wear, but please, take two as payment for healing me so swiftly. I can’t believe it. Nance, did you see that?”
The lady-in-waiting nodded and plumped the pillows on the bed, her mouth a straight, grim line.
Ela had no more time to worry over offending anyone with her gifts. She was going to be late to her own wedding!
Osbert straightened the collar on his tunic and reached into his pocket for the Iceni coin he’d been given by the man in the marsh. It had fallen aside in their mad lovemaking last night, so Ela had never seen it.
The earl coughed. “Are you certain she’s coming?”
“Aye. She’s coming.” Os planted his feet firmly on the floor and clasped his hands behind his back—the image of a man brimming with confidence.
What if she’d changed her mind—what if she wanted a man with titles?
He shook his head, the ends of his hair still damp. A quick plunge and wash in the river had revitalized him. And awakened his doubts. Doubts she’d kissed away last night with her hot tongue and eager body.
“She’ll not recognize you in your finery.” The earl scratched his chin. “Mayhap she wants a man with coin—did you tell her that ye weren’t penniless?”
“Nay.” It hadn’t ever come up in conversation, had it? “She’s not like that.”
The priest cleared his throat.
“We’ll need to finish that conversation we started,” the earl said with a glance at the harried priest. “Later.”
“My lord, this is my wedding day.”
“And ye celebrated early, which is why there is still business to be done. It will not take long, and your bride is welcome—though talk of money will mostly likely bore her.”
Osbert exhaled. “Fine.”
Where in God’s name was she?
Visions of her picking up the hem of her skirts and running hell-bent for home made his pulse spike, and sweat dotted his forehead.
The priest said, “I’ve things to do, Roger—you told me I would be finished quickly. If the bride doesn’t come soon, I must go.”
“She’s coming.” Osbert’s heart sped. “She’s coming now.”
The running footsteps came to a sliding halt, followed by the sound of a bang and a whispered curse outside the door. Os lowered his head to hide his relieved smile.
A servant opened the door, his face stoic, and there she was, a vision in violet and silver. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders to the floor, a meshed silver net of beads and crystals covering the ruby tresses like a waterfall of stars.
Her gown shimmered, and she wore a girdle of silver, belted at her slender waist. With each step she took, she glittered. She was an angel.
“Ah,” the earl said softly. “I see why we waited, and it was well worth it. Congratulations, Osbert Edyvean.”
Ela’s rose-colored smile crossed her face as she dipped her head to the earl, the priest, and Osbert.
The ceremony was simple, but binding. Ela belonged to him.
At the close, Osbert took the Iceni coin from his pocket. Tarnished and old, punched through with a nail so that he could tie a leather thong through it, he held it in his hand. “This happened so fast that I didn’t have time to give you a bridal gift—not even a ring.”
She was shaking her head, as if letting him know that she didn’t need those things—he saw the love in her eyes.
“In my quest to find Boadicea’s spear, I came across an old man who lived in the marshes near the Fens. He gave me this coin,” he held it up, but neither he nor Ela looked at it—they stared into each other’s eyes. “And he told me that I would find Iceni treasure on my quest.”
Ela’s eyes welled with tears. Os cleared his throat, then pressed the worn leather thong into Ela’s palm. “And it did. It brought me to you. I’ve worn this every day since he gave it to me, and now I’d like you to have it.” He leaned forward, kissing each of her tear-damp cheeks. “Good fortune, Ela, wife of Osbert Edyvean. I will love you for eternity.”
“For eternity,” she whispered. “Here.” She gave the necklace back and shoved her beautiful hair to the side. “Tie it on me? I will wear it proudly.”
They kissed, sweet promises of the night to come.
The earl clapped his approval. “Hear, hear. I’ve wine for a toast in my solar. Thanks be to you, Father.”
Effectively dismissing the priest, the earl led the way to a small open chamber that overlooked the training yard. “I will miss you, Osbert. You have a gift for patience with the young hotbloods. For patience with anyone.”
Os dipped his head at the compliment.
“Sit, both of you. The sooner we get started the sooner we finish.”
He felt Ela’s questioning gaze, but simply clasped her hand, asking silently for time. She pressed back. He was no longer alone.
They sat side by side on the long bench against the wall as the earl ruffled through some papers on his large oak desk. He slammed his fist down, then waved for a servant to get his clerk. “And tell him he’d better have those documents I wanted. Or I’ll have his hide!”
Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk and High Steward of England, leaned his bulk against the edge of the desk and clasped his hands in front of him. “While we wait,” he said with a wink, “why don’t we talk about what you learned last night from Kailyn? Are you any closer to finding the spear?”
Ela shook her head. “Nay, but Kailyn told us a little more about the legend surrounding the spear. It seems that whoever holds it on British soil will, for certes, win the battle. Well, the person holding the sword must be a Briton.”
The earl tugged at a lock of hair falling over his ear. “Aye. For the good of Britain.” He narrowed his eyes. “Richard was a strong king—an absent king, and one that bled the coffers dry, but he was a man that the people could follow. A king that could unite a country.” He laughed sourly. “Even when he wasn’t in it.”
Os sat very still. Ela, mayhap sensing his tension, did the same.
“We don’t have that kind of king anymore. Will England suffer for it, Osbert? What think you?”
Osbert wasn’t sure what to say. Logic bade him support his liege, but he also owed fealty to King John. They all did.
Ela surprised him by saying, “The good of the country should come before the king. Shouldn’t it? The land is what sustains us all. The king is but a man who others put in power.”
Her impetuousness was going to get them killed.
“What my wife meant—,” Os began.
“I can speak for myself, thank you, sir.”
The earl laughed low. “Your husband is an honorable man, my lady. And I count on his judgment. Though I know you’ve earned the prize of land and wife, Os, I can’t help but regret granting it.”
Os felt the tremor in Ela’s body as her apprehension grew.
“Your lady wife is right though. Kings come and go.”
Osbert was not deceived by the earl’s light tone. What was he thinking? What plan was he hatching? It was common knowledge that the earl had been Richard’s man, and all were waiting to see what would happen. Would John keep Roger in office or replace him with a man of his own choosing?
“I’ve done my job well,” the earl said, looking from Ela to him. “I’ve earned the respect of my peers. But we shall have to see what we see. Oh—that reminds me.” The earl turned back and picked up a missive.
Again, Os was not fooled. The earl wanted something—but what?
Roger paced before them, an actor reading his lines. “I’ve news that John is to marry Isabella of Angouleme.”
Osbert’s pulse sped. “Wasn’t she betrothed to Hugh le Brun?”
“Aye. The king, in all his majesty’s wisdom, went to settle with the Lusignans—instead, this should rile them up even more.”
Os reached back into his memory for what he’d heard of political intrigue. With the new king, gossip ran rampant. “But she’s only twelve—perhaps the king means to carry out a long betrothal and see how that goes?”
“He’s quite besotted with the young lass and can’t keep his jeweled hands off of her.” The earl snorted with disgust. “They’ll be wed by August.”
“What does that mean for England?” Ela looked from Os to Roger. Os had no way of warning her to still her tongue.
“There are all sorts of ramifications. In this world, a man must make his own path—forge his own destiny. I wish I knew where mine lay. Kailyn foretells that I will remain in power, but under which king? That part isn’t clear.”
Os tightened his shoulders. What the earl was saying bordered on treason.
“Has the king named an heir as of yet?” Ela’s innocent question was like a bolt of lightning in a charged sky.
“If Constance of Brittany has her way, then Arthur will be named as heir for the kingdom of England, but only if Arthur agrees to stop fighting for the throne whilst John is sitting on it.” The earl lifted the letter. “Arthur’s been close before, and some say he still has a right to wear the crown. His father, Geoffrey, was next in line after Richard. Had he lived, he would have been king before John.”
Osbert took a calming breath, hoping to add reason to the conversation. “King John will surely return home to wed, for the coronation ceremony if nothing else. Patience is a tried and true way to see the path in front of you. Fate has a way of rewarding the just.” Osbert folded his arms over his chest. What would he do if his liege chose to fight for Arthur?
“That’s why you want the spear?” Ela asked—completely without guile, which was probably why she kept her head.
The earl’s face turned the color of a ripe purple plum, and he skewered them both with eyes gone hard as stone. “I will protect my position of power.” He released a sigh and patted Osbert’s shoulder. “But I will heed your well-said council. Patience.”
Os gritted his teeth, praying that the crisis was truly averted.
The earl returned to his perch against the desk. “I’ve also had word that Thomas is headed for France, just as he was told to do. You’ve no worries to start your new life.”
A tall, thin clerk came barreling across the floor to the solar. “Your papers, my lord.”
“Did you run all the way, man? What is the matter with you? Begone.” The earl shooed him away, then turned his attention back to Os, then Ela. To Os’s relief, it was as if the previous conversation had never happened.
“My lady Ela. I am gifting your new husband his own title of lord. He shall take over the keep that is on the parcel of land near your home.”
Ela let a happy giggle escape like a bubble from water. Os narrowed his eyes, then reacted as the words sank in. “My lord? What are you saying?”
“I can’t have a humble knight marry a fair lady of the land. You will swear fealty to me, and through me, the king. I expect for you to take a handful of men—no more than five—to start your homestead.”
“My thanks.” Os could feel Ela’s excitement. It echoed his own.
“I expect for you both to be loyal to me. When I call for you, you must come and stand at my side. Ela, Kailyn mentioned that you have gifts as a healer. If we have need of one, I will expect you to be ready.” His face fell. “I would like for you to visit my wife today. She’s … not feeling well.”
Ela nodded, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Os wondered how she was managing to stay still.
“These documents have been signed and recorded, so you shall have no legal issues regarding the new property. And Osbert, I’ve had your money turned into gold coin as you asked. I hadn’t realized how wealthy you were. But with a new home and knights to keep, you’ll need every penny.” The earl reached over and tapped Ela’s nose.
“Make certain to buy your wife something pretty. Prettier than an old coin on a leather braid.”