Boadicea's Legacy Read online

  He raised a brow. “I am filled with flaws, my lady Ela.”

  “Pah. I liked it better when you just called me Ela. After all we’ve been through the past few days, it seems silly.”

  “We are in company again. ‘Tis necessary to remember the rules of society.”

  “I hear you say that and it makes me want to wear my hair down and skip through the streets barefoot.”

  “Childish.”

  She shook off the insult. “I suppose. I said it made me want to do it, not that I was going to. I do know how to behave. Again, you are hardly seeing me at my best.”

  “The great teachers all say that a man’s true character shines through during difficult situations.”

  “You’ve studied ‘great’ teachers?” Why was she not amazed that her knight would be a scholar too? He could be perfect for her, with the exception of how he felt about her supposed witchcraft.

  “Sir Percy taught me to read and write. He said it would help me rise in station, since I had no money or land. Being able to carry messages is what brought me to the earl’s eye.”

  Sainted Sir Percy. Paragon of compassion for orphan boys and hater of women. I would love you despite it. Osbert is a fine man. Sainted Sir Percy, Ela thought. Paragon of compassion for orphaned boys, and yet a hater of women. I would love, you Sir Percy, despite your corrupted anger—for saving Osbert’s life.

  “I am glad for you. I, too, love to read.”

  “You mentioned that before. ‘Tis most unusual.”

  “That I, a mere woman, am allowed to read—and write? My parents insisted that we all learn—Latin, French, even Welsh—so that we could write letters to Aunt Nan.”

  “What an unusual family.”

  If Ela wasn’t mistaken, he sounded more intrigued than put off. Mayhap there was hope for him yet.

  Just then a priest in a black robe hailed them from the front door of a tidy cottage. “Hello there, strangers,” he called. His voice was neither friendly nor cold, just matter of fact. He was short, Ela noticed. Shorter than she, but many men were. His hair was a fluffy white, with a streak of black on the left. It looked like a stripe of boot polish. His aura pulsed a light blue.

  His steps were deliberate as he crossed the yard to the edge of the street and lifted a hand in greeting. “I am Father Norbert. Welcome to Elmford. We don’t get many visitors, and now you are the third set in two days.” The priest kept his expression neutral, but his black gaze missed nothing. Ela shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of her state of dress.

  Os had somehow turned into her guardian again. His shoulders squared, his hand rested above the hilt of his sword, his chin thrust forward. “We are the third? Would you mind, good Father, telling us who the first two were?”

  “I have no need for secrecy,” the priest shrugged.

  “We do,” Os said.

  “Ah. In that case, won’t you come in? I have my sister’s two youngest inside with me. You entered the back way into Elmford, else ye’d have noticed the commotion. Last night a carriage lost a wheel and a lady of quality had to spend the night in Edith’s inn. Her servant died—the lady’s, not Edith’s—plain broke her neck in the fall.”

  Ela’s heart raced. As much as she said she didn’t care for her reputation, her father did. She didn’t know many noblewomen since she rarely left Montehue Manor, but what would her father think if word got out that she was traveling alone with Osbert? Would he demand they marry, despite the curse?

  Nay. Besides, she wouldn’t force another person to do something against their will, even if Os did make her heart warm. Now what am I going to do?

  “Can I offer you apple muffins? There’s ale in the pitcher there. Help yourselves, please.” Father Norbert took the rocking chair by the fire, and Os went to the plate of food.

  A child of two stared up at her with huge brown eyes, while a babe slept in a cradle beneath the small window. The child’s aura was mostly pink, but there was an angry crimson streak running through it. Ela ignored the muffins, even though her stomach rumbled, and knelt down before the little girl so that they were eye to eye.

  “Hello,” Ela said with a soft smile. “I’m Ela.”

  The little girl stuck her thumb in her mouth, then winced and switched to the thumb on the other hand.

  “May I see?” Ela gently held the sore thumb, seeing the red cut on the pad. “That looks like it hurts.”

  The little girl nodded. Father Norbert said, “Aye, she thought to help me with the bread yesterday and got a nasty cut. I’ve been packing honey on it.”

  And she keeps sucking it off. Ela thought it looked infected, and if the infection spread, it could mean sickness or even death.

  It would take but a heartbeat to fix the problem.

  “Ela,” Os growled low. “Have a muffin.”

  She accepted the food, and the little girl stayed at her side. Ela ignored Os and turned her attention to Father Norbert. “‘Tis too bad about the carriage. That poor woman.”

  “Aye, but to hear the lady tell it, the maid will hardly be missed. The carriage wheel caused the tears, methinks.” Father Norbert rocked his chair a little faster, clearly agitated by the mysterious lady.

  “It was lucky for her that the Earl of Norfolk’s knights found her on the road. Who would be expected to be out in that rain?”

  “My men are here?” Os stood, his half-eaten muffin forgotten.

  Ela took the little girl’s hand between hers as she watched Os and the priest.

  Father Norbert’s mouth curved. “Are ye telling me that you are the Earl of Norfolk? Mayhap ye should explain what ye were doin’ coming into town the back way, then, before I tell you more.”

  “There’s more?” Ela finished healing the little girl’s thumb and gave the healthy appendage a kiss. “It will be better, dear. But be careful, now. All right?”

  The little girl curled closer to Ela’s body and nodded, giving the thumb a cautious suck. She grinned. Ela’s heart went round and round inside her chest. Would she ever have children of her own?

  “Not my men, exactly. I too am a knight of the Earl of Norfolk’s. We were following the river from a town that had an inn called the Blue Mug. Don’t remember the name of the town, but a woman there told us that following the river would eventually lead us to the River Tas.”

  The priest chuckled. “Eventually is right. You have two more days of hard riding for that. And if ye’re headed to Norwich to see the earl, as are your men, then it’s another day after that.”

  Ela almost choked on her last swallow of muffin. Another three days of travel? Thinking of poor Bartholomew, she blurted, “We’ll need to buy another horse. Have you enough money, Os?”

  Osbert’s face flushed red, and Ela wished she would have watched her mouth. Of course he wouldn’t have enough money to buy a horse. And she’d used her coin to pay for their stew.

  The priest laughed, as if he thought she’d been joking, thank God. She and Os certainly did not look like the kind to have cash enough for a hot pie, let alone a horse. Well, she could hunt. She reached for her small dagger and remembered it was gone.

  How would her aim be with rocks?

  She had her short sword and—Os cleared his throat. “Good Father, thank you very much for sharing your meal with us. We are grateful.”

  “I saw you give thanks to the Lord, my son. That is thanks enough for me too.”

  Ela blushed. She’d quite forgotten about thanks, because she’d been healing the little girl’s thumb.

  She kept her mouth shut so she wouldn’t make things worse. “Money. My sister likes her jests, Father Norbert.” Sister? Ela glared at Os.

  “I’m hoping that she can find a position in the earl’s castle. And not as the court fool.”

  Father Norbert laughed, but Ela refused. It was only Os’s dark warning look that kept her from leaping up and strangling him. The man couldn’t make love to her, but he could lie to a priest? He had some serious explaining to do.


  “Can you tell me how to find the knights, good Father? Then we will be on our way.”

  Ela bit the inside of her cheek, vowing to make the honorable Osbert pay.

  Os led the way down the streets, crossing over a small hill that had shielded the bustling part of Elmford from their view on the crest. Businesses were packed, the streets were busy, and the smell of fried fish was divine.

  He gave thanks the moment he saw Albric’s auburn hair. “Albric!” he called, and his friend and fellow knight in service to the Earl of Norfolk turned and grinned.

  “Osbert—God’s bones, I’ve been worried you were killed by that worm, de Havel. He’s been spreading lies up and down the roads that ye kidnapped Montehue’s daughter and—oh, well, damn me. There she is. Have ye been kidnapped, then?”

  Os cuffed Albric on the shoulder as Ela glared mutinously from one to the other.

  “She’s not been kidnapped by me, but de Havel’s men almost had her. I reached her in time.” He stepped forward, tearing Albric’s admiring gaze away from Ela’s face. She worried about being pretty when she was beauty and strength personified. “How goes it? Is Warin with you?”

  He heard Ela’s impatient gasp and leaned in closer so that Albric’s news would be for him alone. He’d watched her do something to the priest’s niece, something magical, right there in a holy man’s home. The woman had no shame, and it was time they both remembered their places.

  Albric nodded, understanding at once to keep his tones low. “Aye, he’s around. We tried to get back to the manor, but de Havel burned the fields between us. Montehue’s fortified the house so that if he could keep de Havel outside the walls he’d just built, he might last a siege a fortnight, but hardly more.”

  “Have you seen Thomas de Havel yourself? We’ve seen his men, that’s all.”

  “Aye, he’s crazy, that one. Out for blood against you personally. And her too. He claims they were betrothed, and you stole her from beneath his nose.”

  “It isn’t true. He’s lying—why?” Os moved, blocking Ela from hearing their whispers.

  “Land. What else can a man want? That’s why he set fire to the fields. If he can’t have it, then nobody can. Crazy bastard.”

  “Did you see Montehue after he fell?”

  “Aye.”

  Os lurched forward, pushed from behind. He turned to see Ela’s stricken face. “I’m going home,” she said, her mouth pinched. “You saw my father fall? Wounded? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You heard that?” The tension returned to his brow.

  She didn’t bother answering him. “My family needs me, and I’m going.”

  “No.”

  “No?” She put her hands on her hips. “You have no right to tell me what to do, sir.”

  “You are wrong. Your father charged me with protecting you.”

  She threw her hands in the air, turned, and started running for the road.

  Os stared after her, not believing what he was seeing. Her hair flew behind her as she hopped a fence.

  “I don’t think she’s coming back, Os.”

  “Piss off, Albric.”

  Shoving dignity to the side, Os took off after her. She’d picked up the hem of her dress, and she was racing as if the hounds of hell were on her very heels.

  When he caught her, he would shake some sense into her. How dare she behave in such a way? Women—especially noblewomen—were taught to control their emotions as ladies should. As knights did.

  Yet she was as caught up in hers as if they were a fishing net. It was very unseemly.

  He wasn’t catching up to her.

  Did she have wings on her feet, for God’s sake? He kept his breaths rhythmic and winced when he saw her twist her ankle as she leaped over a rock. Yet she kept running. For home.

  That he could understand. Understanding wasn’t going to save her life, although it would save her from being beaten. By his own hand.

  He lunged and caught her around the middle, rolling so that he took the brunt of the fall. It was like trying to hold a wildcat. She struggled and scratched and cursed. Every once in a while, he heard her cry out, “Let me go.”

  Finally she tired. “Are you finished?”

  “I hate you.”

  “Fine.” She couldn’t mean it.

  “I do mean it,” she whispered. “You have no feeling. You have no heart.”

  She had no idea what she was doing to his. “If I release you, will you stay?”

  “Have I no choice?”

  “No.”

  “Bastard.”

  “First running off like a child, and now name calling? I expected better of a lady.”

  “As you’ve already noticed, I am not exactly a lady.”

  She was an angel, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He hadn’t the right. “Can you stand?”

  “Why? Will you sling me over your shoulder if I don’t?”

  The thought was tempting. “I saw you twist your ankle.”

  “I’m fine. I heal quickly.”

  “You are stubborn.”

  “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t what is.” She shook off his helping hand. “Don’t touch me.”

  “You’re limping.”

  “I’m not either.” She held her body erect and tall, and with gritted teeth, she walked without cursing.

  “If you would have listened to me, I would have explained why you can’t go home.”

  “Bully.”

  “Because Thomas de Havel is telling everyone that I’ve stolen you from him for your father’s land. He’s vowed vengeance on us both. You are not safe until I get you behind the city walls of Norwich. I can protect you better there, along with my men.”

  “My father may be dead. You just want to get your mission accomplished with the earl so that you can get your prize. What do you know of family? Mine needs me, and yet you are keeping me from them by brute force. Is this what you meant when you were saying that women were the weaker sex?” Her eyes were hard and dark green. Os couldn’t detect a sign of mirth. Her remark about his family stung, but he couldn’t retaliate. She said, “I will make you very sorry if you don’t release me right now.”

  “I can’t. For your own good.”

  They’d reached the busy street again, and the men clapped when they saw she was back in Os’s hold.

  Ela’s mouth tightened, and Os shook his head at the knights. “Let us get a room. Ela, you can rest, mayhap clean up a little. You’ll feel better.”

  “Ah, and listen to reason?”

  “My expectations are not quite so high, my lady.”

  “I’m supposed to be your sister, remember?”

  “My men know that you are the lord’s daughter. Let’s see how many are here, and mayhap we can come up with a plan.”

  Her chin hefted higher, so high he would not have been surprised to see her head break off with a snap.

  Albric slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s just the three of us here. We stopped to help Lady Steffen when her carriage wheel broke. The maid died, poor lass. We’ll have to have her body sent back to the castle. ‘Twas lucky we passed by. It was raining buckets, but it hasn’t stopped Thomas de Havel’s men from searching for you or the lady.”

  “Wait, and tell me more once we get to the room. For now, act as if the lady is my sister.”

  Albric’s eyebrow quirked. “What a loss of fortune for her, if I may say so.”

  “You may not.” Os didn’t find it at all amusing, as it was too close to what he already thought. She was above him in station—even if she did have a wild reputation, he’d gotten to know her well enough that he would wager she was the innocent she claimed to be. Wild, for certes, but not wanton.

  He thought of how dark her eyes turned in passion, then he shoved his way into the inn. He couldn’t be distracted from his goal. He would save her, despite her protests, and then return her to her father.

  Albric opened the door to a plain, clean room with four cots and an a
djoining room with a few chairs and a fireplace. Os didn’t look behind him to see if Ela was following—she’d said she would come, and he trusted her word.

  They filed into the sitting area, and Ela took the straight-back chair by the door. Albric offered her the plump chair with cushions, which she declined with a mute shake of her head. Ah, Os thought, she’ll play the martyr.

  So be it. She could play Queen Eleanor so long as she was safe.

  St. Germaine stood by the window, and Warin sat by the empty fireplace. Os took a seat facing them all. “How many of our men survived the attack from de Havel?”

  “Us three,” St. Germaine said hoarsely. His throat had been cut during the Crusades. Other than a deep voice, he had no lasting injury. “For certes. We think Michael and Connor made it too, before de Havel ordered his men to fire the fields, but we haven’t seen them for ourselves.”

  Ela’s soft intake of breath caught his attention, and all the men turned to her. Her hands were folded over the knee of her torn dress, yet her bearing belied her peasant look. “What of my mother? The villagers?” She stood, her tall body trembling. “My father?”

  “Please, my lady Ela, sit. Your father had regained his horse the last time I saw him, and he and his men were traveling for the manor.” Albric’s cheeks were the color of his hair as he sought to soothe Ela’s feelings.

  Warin chimed in. “Aye, my lady. I saw the gate close behind him with my own two eyes.”

  St. Germaine grunted his affirmation.

  Ela sank back down and bowed her head. Os wondered who she prayed to, or if she prayed at all. She was just as likely to be planning a counterattack on de Havel and his men.

  He turned away from her before he did something foolish like blurt out his affections. “How soon can we leave this place?”

  Warin lifted a shoulder. “We promised the Lady Steffen that we would see to it she reached Norwich safely.”

  “You promised. She’s a cold one,” Albric said. “What lady wouldn’t shed a single tear for her maid? Just went on and on about how inconvenienced she was going to be. Claimed we should chase after de Havel’s men but then fussed and insisted we couldn’t leave her alone with a dead body and an incompetent driver.”