Boadicea's Legacy Read online

  “The leg?” Albric looked confused, but Os didn’t want to take the time to explain.

  “Aye. We’ll find him.” He pressed Ela closer to his heart and said in his calmest voice. “And then we’ll see to it that he hangs.”

  Chapter

  Twelve

  Ana, stay close to me—this battle will not be as easy as the others think. Rome must not be allowed to have this victory.”

  “Mother,” Ana said, grabbing hold of Boadicea’s shoulders and shaking. “You’re already injured. Please, stay at the back of the battle lines. I can ride forward in your stead.”

  Her mother’s laugh was more tired than cruel. “You think to lead these mad Trinovantes into battle as if you were me?” She thumped the red-stained spear at her side against the wood of the chariot. “You don’t have the lungs for it, girl.”

  Desperate, Ana leaned forward and clasped her mother’s hand. “I am as strong a warrior as you.” Ana watched her mother’s vibrant aura pulse crimson and dark purple. Boadicea would fight, aye, and she’d not stop until her entire body was as red as her aura.

  Ana hefted her sword and shield. Her arms ached and her back was stiff, but it wouldn’t take long to fall under Andraste’s blood spell and forget everything but the kiss of the kill.

  The goddess demanded her due, and she ate the Roman sacrifices they offered as if she would never be full. Like her mother.

  The Romans had crossed the wrong queen when they’d raped her daughters.

  Ana jutted her chin forward and clanged the solid iron blade against her shield. “They’ll pay. For each insult they’ve done us, vengeance will be ours.” Her mother would die fighting. If not in this battle then the next.

  She kissed her mother’s cheeks and said no more of it.

  Ela heard Os’s voice calling to her. He sounded Roman once and Italian another time. Possibly German.

  “Wake, Ela.”

  This time he sounded as if he expected to be obeyed.

  She forced her eyes open, tired from battling in her nightmare. There were times she worked so hard that she woke covered in sweat, surprised that she wasn’t drenched in blood. “I’m coming, Antonias.”

  “What did you call me?”

  She blinked, bringing him into focus so that she saw one warrior instead of two. His beautiful face was stern and his blue-gray eyes pinned her as if daring her to misbehave.

  Which made her want to misbehave …

  Albric cleared his throat and Warin coughed. She turned her head to the side and smiled in their direction. She winced, feeling the pull of skin at the back of her head. “What happened?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us.” Os crossed his arms, the vision of patience.

  “Oh. I remember being in the laundry room, and I hate small spaces, aye? It was dark and hot and very much what hell would be like, I imagine.”

  Albric laughed, but Os silenced him with a glare. “And then?”

  “I went into a courtyard, and I just remember feeling like I had to find you. I remember,” Ela snapped her fingers. “I am very angry with you.”

  “Ela,” he said in a low voice guaranteed to keep her focused.

  “Right. So I found the kitchen, and then—oh, then I was attacked by one of de Havel’s men. But I got him with a paring knife—it was that or the wine jug. He’d been looking for me, he said.”

  “How could that be? Nobody knows ye were here,” Warin said.

  “The reason you had to play at being a maid,” Albric agreed.

  St. Germaine grunted. “She got out of the carriage.”

  “Why?” Os’s hard stare went from St. Germaine, who didn’t even flinch, to her, and she swallowed nervously.

  “I … it was nice outside, and the shops—well—I wasn’t thinking, Os. There’s the truth of the matter. But I came back in as soon as St. Germaine said, didn’t I?”

  The big knight nodded.

  “It was just for a moment, and I was in my disguise.” Ela glanced down, noticing that she was lying on top of a bed in a small chamber that had a nightstand with a bowl and pitcher, a small wardrobe, four aggravated knights, and one wide-eyed page.

  It was no wonder she couldn’t catch a breath.

  Os scratched his chin, as thoughtful as a pondering Roman god.

  “That’s true. But how else could he have found out you were here? For certes, you didn’t tell Lady Steffen?”

  Ela had never been so glad that she’d held her tongue. “I swear, Os. I didn’t say anything at all. I was going to, this afternoon, but I didn’t.”

  His jaw clenched. “Albric. Someone must have overheard when you requested a room for her when you arrived here at the castle.”

  “Or,” Ela hated to bring it up, “remember that he knew where you were planning on taking me that day when you came to the manor? It is nobody’s fault. He’s evil, anyway.” She sat up, rubbing the bump on her head.

  Os leaped forward and grabbed her hands. “Don’t touch it, it was bleeding.”

  “I told you I heal quickly,” she said with an exaggerated wink. “Remember?”

  He paled and released her hands. “How can I have forgotten that?”

  “I don’t know. It seemed to concern you a great deal at one time.” She sniffed and scrunched her nose at him.

  St. Germaine cleared his throat. “I made your appointment with the earl—he agreed to see you before dinner. Should I change it?”

  Ela swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Nay. I am fine. And if de Havel is looking for me, then I need an ally. Quickly.”

  Os arched a dark gold brow. “What are you thinking?”

  “Well, he sent you after a spear,” she paused, almost choking as she remembered the bloodstained spear in her dream. She covered it with a cough. “Excuse me,” she said, not meeting Os’s gaze. “Which you didn’t find. But you brought me, and you pledged to my father that you would see me safely returned. If we tell the earl this, will he support you or de Havel, if my father needs assistance?”

  “I am his knight—why wouldn’t he support me?”

  “My father swears allegiance directly to the king—he won that honor years ago. The bad part of that is that he has no liege to help him protect his land. He must go directly to the king for help, and if the king is busy, or has reason to not send help, my father is vulnerable. This king has no love for my family.”

  St. Germaine grabbed the page by the shoulder, opened the door to her chamber, and sat him down outside. “Stay.”

  Then he shut the door behind him, and the knights all gathered in close. “The castle walls have ears,” St. Germaine warned.

  Os nodded, as did Albric and Warin.

  Lowering her voice to a whisper, Ela said, “Do you know of any reason that the earl would side with de Havel over my family?”

  “You are in a different part of the country altogether, and he has no jurisdiction,” Warin said. “He has no reason to get involved at all.”

  “Unless I have something that he wants.” Ela tapped her chin, thinking hard.

  “You lied. You have Boadicea’s spear?” Os’s calm demeanor slipped.

  “Nay, I told you the truth. But I would help him find it, for his support.”

  “The earl is not the kind of man that you play games with, my lady. He is a royal representative to the king and cannot be manipulated.” Albric puffed his chest out like a threatened rooster.

  “Of course not … I came here to help—”

  “Against your will.” St. Germaine stared at her with unreadable eyes. His aura was dark and sturdy. Steady. If he believed in your cause, he would be a fine ally to have. She shuddered to think of him as an enemy.

  “I was on my way out the manor door to find Osbert when I was taken by de Havel’s men.”

  Os’s jaw looked tight enough to break his teeth. Ela got to her feet, a tad unsteady, but Os was there to hold her elbow until the room righted.

  “A fast healer, eh?” He helped her to t
he lone chair in front of the wardrobe and poured her a half cup of wine.

  She ignored his sarcasm. “I need to help my father.”

  Albric tossed his squirming cloak to the bed. “Agh. I believe this varmint belongs to you, my lady? He was standing guard over the dress Os had dropped, trying to drag it with his teeth back into the stables.” He lifted his scratched forearms. “Didn’t want to come until I said your name.”

  “Henry!” Ela cuddled the polecat to her tightly, assuring him that she was well. He made a funny sound that was almost a purr that rumbled from his chest. “Thank you, Albric. Thanks to all of you. And to you, Os, for saving me, again.”

  He snorted. “It was your fast thinking that enabled you to stab the knave in the leg. He hit you over the head with a cast iron pan. Hardly fair. Otherwise I’m certain you would have had him.”

  She smiled at him, wishing that he’d find humor in life more often.

  “A knife?” Warin eyed her as if she were a dragon blowing smoke and flame.

  “I’m good, you know. Mayhap one day I’ll show you. We can even wager, if you like.”

  Os cut her off. “Ela. My patience is stretched as thin as it can go. When we meet the earl, please remember that he holds all of the power. You have nothing.”

  Ela scratched beneath Henry’s chin. “You are wrong, Os. For a man of faith, you are sorely lacking in trust.”

  “It keeps me alive, and those I care for.”

  Lowering her lids so that he wouldn’t see her feelings in her eyes, Ela wished that he meant something entirely different by those words. If he cared for her, she would do anything for him. But without love, she would guard her own heart from breaking.

  Os wanted to reach over and kiss the shadows beneath her eyes, or stroke the worry from her brow, or hold her as closely and protectively as she held Henry. Forget Henry, and forget being protective.

  He longed to brand her with his love and break the self-imposed vow of chastity that had chained him for over a year. She belonged to him and, as it was now, he couldn’t claim her.

  This plan to offer the earl her help in finding Boadicea’s spear in exchange for help in battle for a man that wasn’t even in his jurisdiction wouldn’t work, and Ela would only get hurt.

  There was no choice but to meet with the earl without her. She was a wild one, and he had to have a sound and logical plan to win the day. The earl was an intelligent man, a representative first and foremost of the king.

  As appointed by Richard. The earl would be especially careful until his position was secured under King John.

  Os rolled his shoulders. Politics were not for him, and he was tired of tournaments and battles.

  He wanted a small home to call his own, where he could raise goats and mayhap a few chickens. Children—he’d want a full house. And they’d all have red hair and green eyes and a wicked sense of humor. Mayhap they would have the ability to heal and read colors.

  Os bowed his head. It could never happen. “We’ll go and let you rest. Here’s your dress. I hope it fits.”

  Ela looked up, amusement in her gaze. “Tactical retreat, Osbert? What are you planning?”

  “A meal and a chance to clean up before our meeting, my lady Ela. That is all.”

  “Hmm. May I call for Lady Steffen? And tell her who I am?” She stroked the polecat, who turned on his back to get his belly rubbed.

  If only he could acquiesce to her touch as easily—alas, it would only be in his dreams. “Aye. By now the entire castle knows who you truly are. Gossip runs faster than the Thames.”

  “I’ll send the page to get her,” St. Germaine said, opening the door. “My lady.” He nodded to Ela, and Os could see that the knight admired her. He usually wasn’t so vocal.

  Albric gave the bed a pat as he folded his cloak. “Have a boy fetch me if you need anything. Don’t walk alone, aye?”

  Os bristled. He’d been about to offer the same thing.

  Warin tapped his sword hilt. “I’m a shout away, my lady. Good luck to ye.” The two knights followed St. Germaine out the door, and Os was left alone with Ela.

  He found himself at a loss for words.

  “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said with a smile so beautiful it tore at the walls around his resolve.

  Sounding bored, he turned and walked away as if what she thought was of no consequence to him. “I pledged to keep you safe.”

  He closed the door behind him and smiled when he heard what sounded like a slipper hit the wood right where his head would have been.

  Os had warned her that the earl was not one to bargain with like a shop owner in a market fair, but if there was a way to make her his, he would find it.

  She stared at the door and the scuff mark on it from the heel of her borrowed shoe. The hateful thing hadn’t even broken so that she could honestly beg another pair from somewhere. I’d rather go barefoot.

  Sighing, she set Henry on the bed and picked up the package wrapped in paper and tied with a twine bow. “You tried to save this for me?”

  Henry chirped, his whiskers twitching. His dark eyes stared at her fingers as she took the bow off and tossed it toward him. As nimble as could be, he caught it between his paws and fell back on the bed to wrestle with it.

  Laughing, Ela folded the paper back. “Oh my,” she said, lifting the dress and shaking it out. “He did well, did he not?”

  Blue, shot through with silver, and hemmed in silver braid, the gown was simple and elegant at the same time. She held it up to her chin, noting that the length was perfect. She wished for a mirror as she danced around the room as if the dress was Os—her partner. Her lover.

  A knock sounded at her door, and her cheeks flushed. Mayhap he’d regretted his harsh words and he’d come to beg her pardon by offering her a rose.

  She opened the door with a welcoming smile.

  “Never been in love? Such a liar you are.” Lady Steffen good-naturedly pushed her way into the chamber. “A private room? Though small, these are hard to come by. It is time for you to tell me who you really are.”

  Sashaying toward the one chair, she saw the towel with dried blood on it and immediately spun around. “You’re hurt?”

  Ela touched her head. “It’s nothing, truly.”

  Lady Steffen took the towel and shook it. “What happened? I lost you in the crowd earlier, and I’ve had pages and maids searching all over for you—which is difficult when I don’t know your real name.”

  “You have every right to be frustrated—”

  “Agh! What’s that?” Lady Steffen threw the towel at the bed. “A rat? A weasel? Kill it!”

  Ela scooped Henry into her arms, her body shaking with laughter. “Stop, stop—’tis just my pet … polecat.”

  Disgust crossed Lady Steffen’s face. “Polecat?”

  “I know that it is an unusual pet—”

  “I knew you were odd, but this—really.” Lady Steffen sat down, staring hard at Henry, who hid beneath Ela’s apron.

  “He’s tame. He has but three legs, because one got caught in a trap.”

  “Before you say another word, please, tell me your real name?” She fanned her face. “Three legs. My goodness.”

  “Ela. Ela Montehue.”

  Lady Steffen’s eyes widened, and Ela watched her friend’s face pale beneath the layer of thick white makeup. “The one who was injured in the kitchens?”

  “Aye. Os said that gossip spread fast.”

  “I never put it together—that you would be … her.”

  “Her?” Ela searched for the reason Lady Steffen’s aura flashed.

  “The injured girl—that you would be my maid. You are no maid, but a noblewoman. Why the farce?”

  Ela perched on the edge of the bed. “‘Tis a long story.”

  “I would hear it, if you don’t mind telling it.”

  “For certes. Osbert and the other knights were trying to protect me from Thomas de Havel.”

  Her gasp was almost inaudible,
but Ela heard it. “I know. The same men who turned your carriage over are looking for me. Os thought it best if I traveled as his sister.”

  “Very clever, your knight.”

  “Not mine.” Ela hid her blush behind a fall of hair.

  “And Thomas de Havel found you here? How?”

  “I’m not sure. But I plan to take the story to the earl and hope to gain his aid.”

  “When will you see the earl? I’m friends with the countess, don’t forget—if I can help, just say the word.” She sat forward. “Such intrigue. Makes me think of my younger days.” Smiling, she sat back. “Is that the dress that the knight picked out?”

  “Aye.” Ela held it up against her. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”

  “Perfect for your coloring. Do you have shoes?”

  “Nay. Want to hear a secret? I might go barefoot, if the gown is long enough.”

  Lady Steffen laughed. “I can you help you with shoes and your hair. The earl appreciates beauty, and you have that in abundance.” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Take care not to arouse jealousy, eh?”

  Ela scoffed. “I am not the kind to do that, my lady. I am quite simple.”

  “My lady—nay, ‘tis Natalia now, between you and I. And you are far from simple, no matter how much you’d like to believe so. Ela, why is this Thomas de Havel after you?”

  Knowing that it would be very unwise to speak ill of anybody at court, Ela shrugged and said lightly, “I’d thought we’d marry, but he didn’t want me. Then he changed his mind, but I said no, and he acted like I’d broken an engagement. Believe me, I would have remembered my first proposal had I gotten one.”

  Lady Steffen shook her head. “And they say that women are mercurial in temperament.”

  “Sir Osbert has but one mood—serious. He overthinks everything until all of the spontaneity is gone from it.” Ela sighed, wondering what Os would think once he saw her in the gown he’d picked out for her. She ran her hand over the textured fabric.

  “Let me help you dress.” Lady Steffen—Natalia—stood.

  “I could never presume to ask you.”

  “I am offering. You’ll need my help with your hair. Is it really as long as that?” She pointed to a tendril that had fallen free and touched the floor.