A Knight for Love (13 page)

“Fret not.” Warin leaned over
and murmured in her ear. “The battle may be lost but not the war.”

Surprised, she looked at him for he had echoed her thoughts perfectly. She smiled, a sad little movement that ghosted across her lips.
Her brave words meant naught without Hugh and David at her side to fight Philippa and regain the keep.

He smiled back encouragingly. “Go with Bennet. I
’ll follow anon.”

Alyna nodded
again. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled her mount about and trotted away, back stiff, head held high. She may be vanquished, but she wouldn’t give Philippa the satisfaction of seeing that.

“Good girl,” Warin muttered approvingly
as he watched Alyna ride away, seemingly unconcerned and not doubled over in grief after the brief meeting with her aunt. She had courage, of that he had no doubt. She would make someone a fine wife.

And why not my wife?
The little thought prodded at him.

Nay, she is not for me to have. Nay, nay, nay.
Each nay resounded through his mind like the pounding of a smithy’s hammer.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as if he could squeeze away the images beginning to grow in his mind. Alyna at the high table beside him, Alyna with
a babe suckling at her breast, Alyna in his bed, naked and eager for his embrace….

“Did you not hear
me?” Philippa’s screeching voice thankfully interrupted the images parading through his mind’s eye. “I ordered you to leave.”

“Aye, I hear you well. Verily, they hear you in the next holding with your harridan’s voice that
shrieks like the very hags in hell.”

Mockingly he bowed his head in her direction. Mayhap it was uncharitable of him but he hadn
’t been able to resist a parting shot to her on Alyna’s behalf. God’s blood, what an unpleasant woman!

He wheeled Citadel about and spurred the horse to full gallop, leaving in a spray of dirt clods that showered those in the bailey.

*****

Every now and again, a night could be so dark, so dim, that it became almost a physical presence, like a hulking, hovering beast
.
It was just so this evening, thought Warin, and only by staying close to the fire could the beast be beaten back.

Accordingly, h
e and Bennet sat cross legged on one side of the fire, while Alyna sat across from them, staring blankly into the flames, rocking back and forth with knees tucked against her chest and arms wrapped about her shins.

Warin didn’t know what to say that would comfort her and so he said nothing.

After awhile Alyna lifted her head.
“You’ve done what you promised. You brought me to England.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Mayhap tomorrow you should return to France.”

Warin
shook his head. “We’re not leaving you here unprotected. Are we, Bennet?”

“Of course not.” Bennet’s earnest
voice drifted through the night.

“
It was only the shock of finding my father dead. Philippa does not scare me.” She wiped away the tears with one knuckle.

Warin snorted. “If she doesn’t
, she should. That one is evil.”

“I can’t ask you to stay. You long for a peaceful life.”

“How much peace would I have knowing you’re alone?”

“I’m not alone.” She lifted her chin. “I can stay with Muriel in the village while I decide what to do.”

A protective urge overcame him at the sight of the determined little chin. He couldn’t leave her at the mercy of her aunt.

“And how safe would that be? How long until Philippa discovers you there and drives you away?” Or worse, he thought.

Again she shook her head. “Nay, you seek a higher calling. It’s not my place to take you from that path.”

“I say we recover your keep.” Warin twisted his mouth to one side and shrugged. “I can’t leave you. Not like this. You have no one.”

She
stared at him, speechless. “You would do that for me? Put aside your desire for the monastery?”

He
studied her anxious face.
I would ride to the ends of the earth for you.

But he didn’t say that, answering only, “I could never enter Mont St. Michel with an easy mind knowing you had been wronged.” And mayhap recovering her keep for her would be his first step toward absolution.

“Then I accept your help and gladly.” Eyes glowing, she shifted to her knees and held out her hand.

Warin reached out his hand and brushed Alyna’s fingers with his own
, losing himself in her gaze. Aye, he would ride to the ends of the earth for her and slay the fearsome dragon dwelling there. And that dragon’s name was Philippa.

“And me. Don’t forget me.” Bennet cleared his throat. “I wish to see Alyna safely ensconced as well.”

“I would be disappointed indeed if you were to leave us now,” Alyna smiled at Bennet. “Your help too is welcome.” She swiveled her gaze back to Warin. “What do you propose?”

“To my mind, we have
three options.” Warin grabbed the poke stick from where it was propped beside the fire and scratched a line in the ground. “One, we could attempt to recover the keep by siege.”

Bennet nodded. “Difficult to do with only two.”

“Aye,” Warin agreed. “We have not the manpower, so—” He scratched a second line in the ground. “Two, we could attempt to infiltrate Caperun Keep and remove Philippa.”

“Also difficult,
for we don’t know how many of the men are for her,” replied Bennet. “And we don’t know the layout of the keep.”

“But I do,” Alyna interrupted.

“Yes, but to have you with us would put you in danger,” Warin scowled. “Concern for you would weaken our actions.”

“Aye,
” Bennet agreed. He cocked his head and slanted a glance at Alyna. “I don’t doubt your bravery but ‘tis senseless to put you in harm’s way.”

Alyna sighed and nodded slowly. “As you say.”

Warin marked another line on the ground. “Three, we could wait until Philippa leaves the keep.” He paused, waiting for Bennet to provide the reason why that would not work. When Bennet said nothing, he continued. “But we may be waiting a long time for her to ride about without an armed escort.”

“None of those are particularly sound plans,” muttered Bennet. “We don’t have the
means. Or the time.”

“We could petition King Henry
.” Alyna’s voice sliced through the darkness.

“What?” Warin
’s jaw dropped.

“Aye,” she nodded, wiggling closer to scratch a fourth line through the first three with one slender finger. “We petition King Henry to reinstate Caperun Keep to me. It is my birthright,” she added defiantly, as if she expected them to
disagree with her suggestion.

Warin gazed at her, respect filling his chest.
Alyna had presented the perfect solution. Not even Philippa could deny King Henry’s commands.

“You trust that the King will take
your word on it?” Bennet tilted his head and frowned.

“As king, he must deal with disputes between his barons.
I have Caperun blood. She does not. He must rule in my favor.” Alyna’s eyes shone with certitude.

“Yet how do we prove
your identity?” Bennet clearly wasn’t comfortable with Alyna’s solution. “Also, it is said that Henry can be easily swayed. Does that not bode ill for us, if the king can on a whim change his mind?”

“If the king is easily swayed, why not in her favor?” Warin
leaned forward. “Alyna is a comely woman.”

“Why not, indeed,” Bennet muttered.
“Many complain about Henry. He is weak and indecisive. Too, he taxes heavily and favors his family.”

“Henry is a pious man
,” Alyna said. “And piety dictates he do the proper thing.”

“I don’t know.
”
Bennet’s voice was gloomy. “The king isn’t the glorious figure you both seem to think. And if beauty is enough to sway his mind, then mayhap Philippa should be kept hidden. For all that one’s evil ways, she is fair of face too.”

“Have you a better answer, then?”
Frowning, Warin jabbed the stick into the fire, knocking the logs about so that an explosion of sparks raced skyward.

“Nay.”

“Then King Henry is the logical choice.” Warin spoke firmly. Furthermore, if events did not come to pass as Alyna foresaw, any of the other options could be revisited. Right now, the king provided the most expedient solution.

Then he, Warin, could be on
his way back to France, far from the torment of tawny tresses and sparkling blue green eyes that could never be his.

*****

Early the next morning, when only graying dawn hinted of the sun, the threesome departed for London. Numb in misery and grief, the journey of several days passed by in a blur for Alyna. Yet the moment they joined the stream of humanity funneling through Ludgate, the city bombarded Alyna’s senses and roused her from her ennui.

Th
e first thing she noticed was the stench. To be sure, she had occasionally passed by the garderobes when in need of cleaning or the kitchen when fowl were being plucked or fat rendered to tallow, but those odors were fresh as spring flowers compared to this.

London’s odor
, almost visible in its potency, came from a mix concocted from the tanneries and breweries, slaughter houses and vinegar makers, cookhouses and dung heaps and burning of coal. Add to that the ever-present tide of refuse and water running down the streets and the reek of it could not be denied.

Alyna almost gagged with the intensity of it and covered her nose with her elbow.

Warin smiled at her. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “In time you shall grow accustomed to it.”

She nodded dubiously
, her eyes squinted against the black smoke billowing from a nearby smithy.

“If you do not,” he added, “perfume on a cloth covers the stink quite nicely.” He turned about and guided his horse around the stack of barrels in front of a cooper’s stall.

Again she nodded, eyes still crinkled and distaste curling her lips. Oh, for the fresh air of Gloucestershire!

The noise, however, she found quite another matter.

It exhilarated her, and gave life to what otherwise would be naught but a jumble of buildings. The cries of porters and water-bearers, the ringing of church bells and rumbling of carts and wagons, the constant tap tap tap of the pewterers, blacksmiths and carpenters, a chaos of sounds, all rising on the air and jostling for space with the buildings crowding above them.

And
the people.

Bodies of all shapes and sizes, from humble peddlers to grand ladies, wealthy merchants to haughty knights, monks to fishwives, an array so diverse that Alyna was fascinated despite herself. The musical lilt of French mingled with Flemish and Latin and other exotic tongues she didn
’t recognize.

If not for Warin, who appeared to know exactly where he was headed, and Bennet, who shepherded her from behind, she would surely be lost.
The twisting maze of streets confused her, some so narrow that two horses could barely pass and others mysterious, winding away from sight to an unknown destination.

Someone tugged on her stirrup and she glanced down to see a starveling child, one hand outstretched up to her.

“Get you gone.” Bennet surged up beside her to shout at the child. “Or I’ll knock you about the ears.” He held up a clenched fist.

“There is no harm done,”
Alyna commented. “See, he runs away.” She pointed but the child had already disappeared in the crowded street.

“You must have a care, Alyna. London urchins aren
’t innocent. They’re nothing more than common thieves.” Bennet glared at another who kept pace alongside, pleading for a bite to eat in a high-pitched, scratchy voice that wrenched at Alyna’s heart.

“We
’re on horseback,” she chided Bennet gently. “We have naught to fear.”

“As you say.” Bennet pulled back
to fall in behind once again but it didn’t stop him from keeping a sharp eye on the goings on around them.

Fleet Street soon opened up to
the massive hulk of St. Paul’s Cathedral and Alyna twisted around in her saddle to see as much of it as possible as they trotted past.

“Impressive, is it not?” Warin’s voice was admiring. “It
’s the largest cathedral in England and we must owe our thanks to the Normans in rebuilding it for us. Fire damaged the previous structure and see, the roofs here are now ordered to be of stone, for thatch and wood burn too easily.”

“Aye,” Alyna agreed. “I have heard others tell of it but this is the first I see it. This is my first time in London,” she added, hoping he wouldn
’t think her awkward and unsophisticated.

On the contrary, her admission seemed to please him.