Boadicea's Legacy Page 5

  Thomas had changed his mind about her … Ela swallowed and sent a panicked glance toward Os. The knight merely shrugged as if to say it was her bed, it was up to her whether or not to get in it.

  He was a cool one.

  What should she do? If she went to court, she could make a plea on behalf of her family. Thomas didn’t want to marry her—in fact, he seemed to abhor her. But marriage to him would be the only way she’d have any power at all.

  “How would we travel?” Ela looked directly into Thomas’s eyes.

  “As man and wife, of course.” Thomas’s upper lip curled.

  He doesn’t like me. He threatens my family, and yet he wants something from me now as well. What could it possibly be?

  “A summer wedding is always fair. But what happened to suspecting his motives for marriage?” Os lifted one hand. “A marriage he said himself that he didn’t want?”

  “I’ve changed my mind, my lady,” Thomas said. “Perhaps I was too hasty.”

  Ela looked from Os to Thomas. The pragmatic part of her accepted that there had been no other offers for her hand, and no wild love affair in her past to warm her heart on a lonely eve. Accepting Thomas not only gave her a chance to help her family, it also might give her children of her own.

  In exchange for her healing.

  The emotional part of her nature warned that such a match would crush her spirit, and any child born of that union would suffer from Thomas’s ill nature.

  Os kept his temper, though it was difficult. Did she not sense that the man was a man’s man? It was obvious she had her own reasons for pursuing such a tie—even now he could see that she was weighing the matter carefully. What if she was so innocent that she didn’t know?

  Did he tell her, so that she could make her decision fairly?

  The thought was there, and then the words fell from his mouth like marbles from a bag. “Ask your lover if he’s ever lain with a woman before.”

  Ela gasped and covered her pretty pink lips with her hand. She raised those brilliant green eyes to his, and he watched them widen with understanding. “Oh.”

  Thomas lunged across the hall floor, his sword drawn. His face turned red, and his beady eyes cold as a snake’s. “Fool. I’ll kill you for that.”

  “He’s unarmed, Thomas, you cannot.” Ela stepped in front of Thomas, pleading on Os’s behalf. Sweet, foolish lady.

  “You defend a stranger over me? You believe his profane accusations? I’ll kill you both!” Undone by his own emotions, Thomas swung his sword wildly and barely missed cutting Ela’s arm.

  Os calmly took Ela by the shoulder and put her behind him.

  “Oh,” she sighed. He didn’t pause to understand what she meant by that but bent to get the small dagger in his boot. He knew better than to leave his room without his sword, but he’d heard Ela’s raised voice and hadn’t stopped to think.

  Looking at the small blade in his hand, Os knew he’d have to be quick. In hand-to-hand combat, size mattered.

  “Take mine,” Ela whispered on a cinnamon-scented breath. He felt the handle of a short sword being placed in his grasp. He leapt to a defensive stance—his dagger in one hand and the lady’s accurately balanced short sword in the other.

  “Where did you get this?” He couldn’t help but admire the weapon.

  “Can we talk later, sir? After you’ve subdued Thomas? Please, Osbert, don’t kill him. I need the bully alive.”

  Her faith in him was astounding, though it was hardly a fair battle. He was a professional knight skilled in all forms of combat. He parried, disarming Thomas with a nick to the knuckles. Blood spurted and Thomas dropped his sword. It fell to the stone floor with a clatter.

  Ela started to run around him, but Os held her back with one arm. “I hope you’re not squeamish, my lady.”

  She giggled, a feminine sound that stroked his insides with unaccustomed warmth.

  Just then, the lady’s mother and father came down the stairs, her father brandishing a steel blade as long as his body. Os glanced down at the lady’s short sword and quickly put the weapon behind his back. “My lord. I can explain—”

  “No, let me.” The charming lady pushed him aside with more strength than he expected. “Mother, Father. It seems that Thomas and I will not suit after all.” She walked over to where Thomas stood and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Thomas has agreed that we make better friends than enemies, aye? And friends help one another and keep one another’s secrets.”

  Os felt his mouth drop open as Ela took both of Thomas’s hands in hers. “This explains so much,” she said with what sounded like relief. “Shall we call a truce?” She stared deep into Thomas’s narrowed rabbity eyes until the man nodded, then she made a motion of locking her mouth tight and tossing away the key.

  “Aye. A truce.” Thomas looked from her to the elder Montehues and gave a short bow. “I will take my leave. For now. Ela, my dear, you will be mine.” Then he turned to Os. “You, I promise to destroy.”

  Os raised his hand in a mock salute. “Until we meet again.”

  Thomas stuck his knuckles to his mouth and sucked, then bent to pick up his fallen sword. Glaring at them all, he backed out of the large hall and down the stairs to the front steps. He was a man without honor, which made him dangerous.

  Ela seemed unconcerned as she chattered excitedly to her dumbfounded parents. “You should have seen how Os handled Thomas—Thomas attacked without warning, and Os, he pushed me behind him to keep me safe. Isn’t that lovely?” Ela grinned at her mother, who patted Ela’s hands.

  “Lovely, darling.”

  “But hardly necessary,” Lord Robert growled. “Girl’s been using that short sword since she was as tall as my knee.”

  “What was the matter with Thomas? He looked ill. Shouldn’t you have hel—” Lady Deirdre paused and slid her gaze over Os. “Helped him before letting him leave?”

  “Letting him leave? He wanted to take our guest’s head off. That is hardly good manners. If it wasn’t for Os saving me, well …” Ela sent him a shy smile that made him smile in return. “And he knows the legend that descendents of Boadicea can heal.”

  Lord Robert gave a great snort, then bellowed for Jemison. “Bring ale—lots of it.” He glared at Os. “Damned if I don’t miss my boys. Girls. I don’t understand them.”

  “Papa! What is to understand? You didn’t want me to marry Thomas de Havel, and now I am not.”

  Os had been turning the facts as he knew them over in his mind. It was plain that the family was hiding something, although they’d seemed sincere in not knowing anything about Boadicea’s spear. The earl wanted the spear—but Ela, a beautiful maiden of Boadicea’s direct lineage, might be a fair substitute.

  He would send word to Albric and Warin to join him here, and they could offer an armed escort to Norwich Castle. Surely the girl had a maid who could come along as a chaperone.

  Ela was lovely, and he’d make certain that she was treated with honor and respect by all. Especially himself.

  Lord Robert led the way to the solar, and the bailiff soon had the fire stoked to chase the early evening chill from the room. Osbert gripped his mug of ale, thinking again how close Ela had come to danger. Thomas was undisciplined and emotional—a bad combination. His manipulative tendencies and dark desires would have made sweet Ela miserable for the rest of her life.

  He’d known priests, and aye, even fellow knights who chose one another’s company over a woman’s, but never before had he seen a man with such foul intent.

  “I think you are hiding something. Again,” Lady Deirdre said to Ela. “But I don’t care—that’s how relieved I am that you gave up on that silly plan of yours. I told your father about it.”

  What plan?

  “Stupid! When will you girls learn that I am the man of this family and I will protect you—you do not need to protect me. Is this understood, Ela? When I think of you married to that bastard, I feel like puking. Aye, hurling. I’m proud to be lord of this m
anor, but not at the cost of my children’s sorrow. You’d think you would have learned that after the misery your sisters put me through.”

  Os thought that Lord Robert sounded very proud for a man mired in misery.

  “You don’t understand now, Ela, but someday you will, when you are a parent.” Lady Deirdre reached over and smoothed the veil over Ela’s head. Os watched as she leaned back into her mother’s caress like a cat being petted.

  “At this rate I’ll never be married.” Os couldn’t miss the smile she tried to hide in her mug. She sounded happy at the prospect. What woman didn’t want to be married? She’d been willing to marry a villain just this morning.

  “I don’t know about that, Ela, but God help you if you try again to give me grandchildren with sallow skin and buck teeth.” Lord Robert lifted his mug to the heavens.

  Os burst into laughter. Surprised, the Montehues paused, then joined in. As he stretched his legs out to the fire and sipped from his mug, Os felt like he belonged.

  He hated to be the one to shatter the mood, but the Earl of Norfolk had been waiting a year already. He himself grew impatient.

  Os’s reward of a large parcel of land was most likely dwindling as it took longer to bring the earl what he wanted. Roger Bigod hadn’t given him many clues to find Boadicea’s spear, nor had he told him why he wanted it. His mission had been simple—to locate the spear—and he’d been given a bag of coin, which was long gone, and had been pointed toward Wales.

  In Os’s travels, he had followed various paths searching for Boadicea and come up mostly empty-handed. Touching the coin at his throat, Os remembered how close to quitting the mission he’d come until he’d heard of a red-haired healer in a small Welsh village close to the shore. From there, he’d tracked down Evianne, and her daughter Deirdre Montehue, as well as tidbits regarding her daughters. He’d thought there were two. Os glanced at Ela, who was bent over sideways, looking for something beneath the chaise. Praise God, there were three.

  Fortune had finally smiled on him, giving him a living clue to the spear. It was possible that he might still get his land once he delivered Boadicea’s true legacy in the form of Ela Montehue. Tall, flame-haired, green-eyed—the gentle lady was the dignified, gentle-born version of Boadicea. He cleared his throat.

  Ela jumped up and returned to her seat on the chaise. She tugged at her foot, as if it were caught.

  Deirdre looked at him and smiled, an embroidery hoop in her busy hands.

  Robert scowled, seemingly lost in thought. Os hated to rouse him, especially if Robert was mentally kicking the shit out of the lying scoundrel Thomas de Havel, but it was time to get some answers.

  “As I told you earlier, I am here on behalf of the Earl of Norfolk.” He waited for them to get settled into listening positions. Ela still struggled with her shoe, although gamely trying to pay attention. At his questioning look, she stopped wiggling and folded her hands in her lap.

  Deirdre put down her hoop and needle, and Robert continued scowling, but this time Os knew he was the one under scrutiny.

  “As I mentioned earlier, the Earl of Norfolk has sent me on a quest—a discreet mission searching for information or the actual spear of Boadicea.” Os studied Deirdre to see if she would give anything away by the jerk of a shoulder or twitch of an eye. She tilted her head, her expression interested but unknowing.

  “Spear? I never heard of Boadicea’s spear.”

  Lady Dierdre then glanced at Ela, who stilled the instant Os’s gaze came upon her. “I’m sorry,” Ela said with a flush to her cheeks. “I didn’t hear the question.”

  Os rubbed his brow. “There was no question. I was simply explaining that I was here—”

  “On behalf of the Earl of Norfolk,” Ela smiled and nodded.

  “—to find any references to Boadicea’s spear.”

  Ela humphed and looked at her fingernails. “I’ve never heard of a spear—have you, Mother?”

  Os felt the impatience begin in his belly but kept the cool head he was known for. “She already said nay, which is why we were looking at you.”

  “Oh. Hmm. No. Never heard of it. Could be anywhere—most likely burned in battle or something, aye? Ashes.”

  “Ashes?” Os shook his head. “A battle? It was made of iron and bronze, and it would be almost twelve hundred years old. A heavy weapon for a savage queen. If it even exists.” He pushed at the ache between his eyes. “God knows I’ve not gotten far in my search.”

  “You don’t believe that there is such a thing? Then why are you looking for it?” Ela’s forehead came together in consternation. “For a year, no less.”

  “I am not looking for it, personally. I am on a quest.”

  “The prize must be mighty to spend an entire year chasing a rumor. Gold? A rich wife, mayhap?” Ela’s sarcasm was unmistakable, and Os couldn’t think of what he might have said to deserve the bite of her tongue.

  “Land. I will get my own farm. I plan on raising goats.”

  “Goats?” Ela laughed in disbelief.

  “Aye.” Os rolled his shoulders defiantly. “Goats.”

  “I wish I could help you, dear,” Deirdre said. “But the person who could have helped you most is my mother, and she is gone.”

  “Where?”

  “Dead.” Ela said shortly.

  He hadn’t come as far as this by giving up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But if you don’t mind answering just a few questions?”

  “For certes,” Deirdre waved her hand. “If I can be of any help at all, I am happy to do so.”

  “Do you have anything, any heirloom, that has been passed down in your family?”

  Deirdre hesitated and nodded toward Ela.

  “I have a tapestry hanging on my wall. It depicts the last battle of the Iceni and the Romans.”

  “How old is it, do you know?”

  Ela shrugged. “We think a few hundred years. I’d be happy to show it to you. Gram told me stories about Boadicea and her love of the land.”

  Os doubted a tapestry would do when a spear was needed for whatever purpose the earl had in mind. “Would you consider coming with me to Norwich, my lord?”

  Lord Robert’s shout of “No” reverberated around the room.

  “Why Norwich?” Ela leaned forward on the chaise, both feet tucked beneath it, hidden from sight.

  “According to the earl, Norwich is where the Iceni lived. Boadicea was queen of the Iceni tribe. She and her husband may have had a homestead in Thetford. When he died, the Romans took everything, and Boadicea swore vengeance. I asked a few questions and found out that legend had at least one daughter surviving the last battle with the Romans, and that as Boadicea lay dying, she sent the daughter to Wales—and safety.”

  “And she took the spear with her?” Ela’s bright interest made him wish he knew all of the answers regarding her history. Sir Percy’s admonishments regarding the fairer sex were grim, but Os felt like Ela would be different. Mayhap if she was interested enough, she could convince her parents to let her travel with him. Chaperoned, of course. Damn it.

  “I don’t know. One person will say they remember something about a spear, while another person will talk of a necklet. Yet another one will say that Boadicea never lived.” He hated uncertainty. Part of being successful as the earl’s man of business meant sorting the truth from the myth. “The spear mayhap had tribal markings, which might have identified the daughter to a different tribe of the Iceni. It makes sense that Boadicea would want her daughter far away from Britain and the angry Romans. I just wish that they’d left a stronger legacy. I had a difficult time finding anything at all until I stumbled upon a village in Wales. The people had just buried their village wisewoman. Your sister, Nan. That’s how I found out about you.”

  “Oh!” Lady Deirdre put her knuckles to her mouth.

  Os felt like an arse. “I’m sorry, my lady—I didn’t realize that you didn’t know.”

  “Dead? When? Tell me, Osbert, did they burn her bones to a
shes and scatter them over the sea? I didn’t feel a thing.” Deirdre tapped her heart. “How long ago was this? I wish you could have brought me a token. My sister …” She quietly sobbed into her embroidery.

  Lord Robert sat next to his wife, enfolding her in his large, yet tender, embrace.

  Os looked at Ela, regretting that he hadn’t been gentle with the news. He’d not thought they hadn’t known.

  “She’s been dead six weeks—no more than that.”

  Ela gazed at nothing, her eyes half closed. “Aye … ‘tis true, though I don’t sense her spirit. I feel nothing, which is good—it means she’s passed over with Gram.” She shook her body from its hypnotic daze and got up to hug her mother. “I’m sorry. Nan was dear to you.”

  Deirdre lifted her head. “Why didn’t we feel it, Ela? I would have gone to her if she was ill.”

  Ela kneeled before her mother. “I never met Aunt Nan, so she didn’t form for me.”

  What? Osbert didn’t understand what they were talking about, but the hair on the back of his nape rose in wariness. “She wasn’t ill. The villagers said she fell from the cliffs. An accident, my lady.”

  “Nay.” Lady Deirdre wiped her eyes. “It was no accident.”

  “Hush woman. ‘Tis your grief talking.” Robert patted his wife’s back.

  “Grief? I tell you, Nan walked those cliffs every day of her life! She wouldn’t misstep and fall to her death accidentally. Oh no, I am sure”—she beat her breast with her fist—”it was no accident. It wasn’t. We must ride to Wales at once, Robert. Please.”

  Osbert remembered the pain of losing his family. There was no sorrow like it.

  “My lady Deirdre, the villagers cremated her body on a pile of ash wood, just as she wished done. Her ashes were then scattered over the ocean’s dunes, her spirit given to God. The priest was stricken with emotion as he told me of the services. Your sister was well loved.”

  Os’s reward came in the form of a warm, approving look from Ela and a tremulous smile from Deirdre. “She would make friends with the priest. My sister was a true witch, you know.”