The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 111
Being left-handed, the injury prevented Chadwick from effectively wielding a sword, so he set out to learn another vocation. By the time he’d left The Levant, he’d learned a great deal from the Arabian alchemists and physics, and had learned other secrets from other races native to those soils.
His talents as a physic had distinguished him far more than his talents with a sword, and he’d served the royal household for many years. It had been Chadwick who had been summoned when Cullen had run Barric through, and Chadwick who had ultimately saved the man’s life. Barric had been very proud to have such a skilled physic by his side, but something told Teodora that Chadwick wasn’t like Barric or any of the other men the king surrounded himself with. She didn’t really know him but, from what she had seen, that spark of ambition or deviant behavior wasn’t there.
It was just a feeling she had.
“Lady Barklestone,” Barric said, breaking into her thoughts. “You are positively glowing in the orange silk. I was right when I selected the color for you; it brings out the bloom of your cheeks.”
Teodora looked at him with veiled impatience. “You summoned me, my lord?”
She didn’t sound friendly but it didn’t seem to bother Barric. He had the lady right where he wanted her and they both knew it. “I have,” he said. Then, he feigned a pout. “Will you not smile for me?”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What is there to smile over, my lord?”
Barric was reclining on a bed that was stuffed with feathers and covered with embroidered silk. He lifted a hand, pointing in the general direction of the castle.
“We have reached Rockingham, of course,” he said. “I am eager to introduce you to my castle when I am feeling better. But for now, we have reached our destination and it is time you know what is expected of you. Sit down.”
There was a bench seat next to Chadwick and Teodora lowered herself onto it. Barric watched her closely, lusting even now over what belonged to him. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could physically express himself.
“Now that we have arrived, you should know that although you will not be a prisoner, you will not be allowed to leave the castle without an escort,” he said. “I will know your whereabouts, every moment of the day, or there will be consequences. Is that clear?”
Teodora was looking at her hands. “It is, my lord.”
“But I do not want you to feel caged,” he insisted, a hollow statement to make it seem like she wasn’t as restricted as she really was. “I want you to be happy and to do the things that would make you happy. What would make you happy, Teodora?”
It was easy for him to be magnanimous with her now that he held all the power, and Teodora’s head came up, sharply, a retort on the tip of her tongue. It would make me happy to go home and leave you behind! But she caught a glimpse of Chadwick as he continued muddling something against the stone and, very faintly, he shook his head as if he could read what was on her mind.
Don’t say it.
It was no secret what was on her mind. Even Barric probably sensed it. Still, she had resolved to be obedient, so it took a genuine effort to focus on a polite answer to his question.
“I… I suppose I should like to have a fine horse to ride,” she said. “I had a fine horse that I left back at Cerenbeau and I miss riding him.”
It was a courteous answer that took Barric by surprise. He’d become so accustomed to her moody resistance that he was actually surprised to hear her respond with some tact and reason.
“If you wish a fine horse, a fine horse you shall have,” he declared. “What kind of a horse?”
“A Spanish Jennet.”
“Then I shall search the area for the finest Jennets and you may select the horse you want. Is that all you wish?”
Teodora wasn’t stupid. She saw, very quickly, that her respectful answer brought about some excitement from Barric, who seemed more than willing to grant her wish. Probably more than one. With that in mind, she replied to his new question.
“I enjoy archery,” she said. “I am excellent with a bow and arrow. I should like to practice again.”
Barric couldn’t believe they were actually having what could be deemed as a pleasant conversation. “Anything you wish,” he said generously. “I have seen young women attend to their skills in archery.”
Teodora could sense that he was in a giving mood so she pushed forward. “When I lived at Cerenbeau, my father took me into battle with him,” she said, watching the curious expression on Barric’s face. It caused her to falter a bit, seeing that he, perhaps, wasn’t so pleased about that revelation. “Truthfully, he only allowed me on the outskirts of a battle with my crossbow, but I very much enjoy war games. They are games of skill and intelligence more than strength. Mayhap it would not be too much trouble if I practiced with your army?”
Barric wanted to give in to her; that was clear from the expression on his face, but he wasn’t entirely sure about a woman dealing with weaponry. “That does not seem like a very ladylike pastime,” he said. “Can you not do something less violent? War games are for men, after all, and…”
Teodora cut him off, quickly. “I have been taught the skills necessary to be a chatelaine and I believe I will make a very good one,” she said, hoping that might please him so he’d grant her what she wanted. She was coming to see that it was quite possible the man might let her have some semblance of control and freedom, even in her captivity, so she wanted to find out what, exactly, he was willing to concede. “Will you permit me to be your chatelaine? That way, I can tend to your house and hold, and it would make me happy to have great responsibilities. Then, mayhap someday, if you are agreeable and I have completed my duties well, you will let me practice with your army. But only if you are agreeable, of course.”
She’d made a very nice case for him to consider – she was willing to do what all well-bred women did and oversee the management of Rockingham Castle, and she wanted very little in return. Barric still wasn’t entirely comfortable with his beautiful plaything handling swords or fighting alongside his men, but at least he had her attention. She was speaking to him respectfully and showing some willingness to become part of Rockingham, and he didn’t want to upset whatever spell had evidently come over her. He’d never seen the woman quite so amiable.
“We can discuss it when the time comes,” he said, hoping that would satisfy her. “As for being chatelaine, I would like nothing better. Rockingham has a majordomo, whose name is Ivo. He has been at Rockingham for a great many years and I will instruct him to teach you all he knows. Are… are you sure this is what you wish to do? It is a great deal of work, you know.”
Teodora was very well aware of how much work it was. But it would also give her freedom of movement, the very thing Barric was trying to restrict. She didn’t have any plans to escape, at least not at the moment, but serving Barric in the capacity of chatelaine would give her the opportunity to earn the man’s trust. That way, if it was ever necessary to manipulate the man, or even escape, he wouldn’t be watching her every move.
In any case, she could see that cooperating with him would make the situation go much more easily in her favor than resisting him.
One can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
“Aye, my lord,” she said after a moment. “I would be happy to work. I find it rewarding.”
Barric lay his head back on the pillows as the wagon bumped and lurched. “Then it shall be so,” he said. “Now, you and Chadwick will leave me while my servants help me dress for my arrival to my home. I wish for my people to see me well-dressed.”
Teodora nodded and stood up, as did Chadwick, who had finished muddling whatever he’d been working on. He put the green mush into a cup of wine and swirled it around, handing it to Barric.
“Drink this,” he said. “And mind that your servants do not move you around too much. Take care with your wound.”
Barric drank down the herbs, which were apparently bitter. He made a face when he was finished. “But my wound is healing nicely.”
Chadwick took the empty wine cup away from him and set it aside. “It is,” he agreed. “But you still need rest. You are not a strong man yet, my lord.”
Barric nodded, but he waved him away, and Chadwick turned to follow Teodora’s path from the carriage. She had just opened the rear door when he came up behind her, exiting first and then helping her down to the ground. Around them, the army continued to move forward, so Chadwick grabbed her by the elbow and quickly helped her to the side of the road so she wouldn’t be trampled by men and horses.
“Walk with me, my lady,” Chadwick said. “I hazard to say that you’ve not had much of a chance to stretch your legs on this journey. Every time I have seen you, you have been perched on the back of a snowy white palfrey.”
Teodora grinned at him as they began to walk along the side of the road, in the grass that was still damp from the rains they’d had earlier.
“That is true,” she said. “My feet have not been allowed to touch the ground, so I welcome this chance to walk, however brief. I can see that our destination is up ahead.”
She was pointing toward the north, where Rockingham Castle lay. They were now passing along the outskirts of the village that was at the base of the castle’s hill. The structure sat up on a rise with a bustling burgh below it, and some of the people had turned out from the village to see the great army approaching the castle. Word would soon spread that the Lord Justice was back in residence. Chadwick shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked over his shoulder at the audience they had gathered.
“And it seems we are a bit of a curiosity, too,” he said, dropping his hand and facing forward as they continued to walk. He eyed Teodora as she picked up her skirts so they would not drag in the wet grass. “I fear that you and I have not had much of a chance to become acquainted, Lady Barklestone. It seems as if we have been in the same room at the same time often enough, but nothing beyond that. I know your name and you know my name, and that is about all we know of each other.”
Teodora looked over at him, smiling. He was about her height, well-built, and blonde. He was also rather handsome, she thought, in a fair sort of way. “Barric told me you are a great physic,” she said. “One night he made me sit and watch him eat, and as he ate, he told me about you.”
Chadwick lifted his eyebrows. “I see,” he said. “What did he tell you so that I may either refute him or agree?”
Teodora shrugged. “He said your hand had been smashed during Richard’s great quest,” she said. “He said that you learned mysterious and great medicines in the Holy Land and that you are a very fine physic.”
Chadwick lifted his shoulders. “I am on a continual quest for knowledge,” he said. “If that makes me a fine physic, then so be it.”
“You brought Barric back from the dead.”
Chadwick cast her a sidelong glance. “May I ask you something?”
“Aye.”
“I was told that you had something to do with his injury.”
Teodora’s smile faded. “What, exactly, where you told? So I can refute it or agree.”
He flashed a grin as he heard his own words repeated back at him. “That your husband tried to kill Fitz Hammond when the man politely addressed you and that you were taken in punishment for Barklestone’s actions.”
She looked at him in horror. “That is what you were told?”
Chadwick snorted quietly at the look on her face. “I did not think it was true,” he said. “Both Fitz Hammond and the king have their own truths in situations. I do not believe much they tell me, to be honest.”
She didn’t think he was saying that for her sake. To her, it sounded as if he truly meant it. But even so, she wasn’t going to tell him the truth of the situation because she couldn’t be entirely sure her rebuttal of the king’s facts wouldn’t get back to the king, and that could go badly for her.
“Do you always speak so poorly of your king?” she asked.
Chadwick shrugged. “I am sworn to England, and he rules England,” he said. “I serve him. That does not mean I trust him or even like him. Him or any of his cohorts.”
“Not even Barric?”
Chadwick simply shook his head. “He is just like the rest of them.”
“Then why do you serve the king as a royal physic? Surely there are other places where you could practice your trade.”
Chadwick was watching the grass under his feet. “I served Richard,” he said quietly. “When John assumed the throne at Richard’s death, I remained. Shall I be honest? John pays me very well. I have a little house in London and a fine garden, and servants. Being a royal physician gives me the opportunity that few have. I collect books and exotic plants because I have the means to pay for them. And all I have to do is cure a belly ache on occasion. For the most part, it has been a good life.”
Teodora couldn’t fault the man for being honest about his reasons for remaining with the king. “And now you have come to Rockingham Castle,” she said quietly. “When shall you return to London and to your garden?”
Chadwick looked up at the big walls of Rockingham looming head. “As soon as Barric is well,” he said. “Soon, I hope.”
Teodora was about to reply, but a thunder of hooves behind her caught her attention and she turned to see de Lara riding up.
“My lady,” he addressed her as he bailed from his horse. “Come back to your palfrey now. We should be arriving soon and it would not do for you to walk through the gates. As a countess, you shall ride.”
Teodora cast Chadwick a long, and rather unhappy, glance and he lifted his eyebrows in sympathetic response. Having no choice in the matter, Teodora allowed de Lara to take her back down the column where her little palfrey was being led by a soldier. De Lara lifted her up onto the little beast and positioned it, once again, beneath the oiled tarp canopy. Mounting his warhorse once more, he remained riding next to her escort the rest of the way to Rockingham Castle.
Once Teodora passed through those great wood and iron gates, a feeling of foreboding swept her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but looking up at those sandstone walls made her think that no matter how submissive she needed to be, nor how obedient, terrible things were going to happen to her, concealed by those enormous walls and hidden away where no one could help her.
Protect her.
She suspected the real adventure of her life was still to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Blackthorn Forest
“If you hold a sword like that, you are going to get your fingers chopped off.”
Cullen was pointing to a young man holding tightly to a wooden sword. He was standing with a group of other young people, all of them holding some kind of wooden sword that they had made or, at the very least, a substantial stick that represented a sword. The sun had just come out from a morning of rain and the occupants of Owen the Black’s village were taking full advantage of the sunshine.
It was time for a lesson from the man they’d come to know as Monty – the mountain.
In the outlaw settlement, everyone had to prove his or her worth. There was no dead weight, so to speak, so everyone had a function. They had smiths, tanners, and wheelwrights. They even had a cooper, who had made the barrels with which to hold their ill-gotten gains, among other things. In the middle of Blackthorn Forest, an entire, productive village existed.
Very early on, Cullen had seen that everyone at the village had a function, and since he was planning on staying, he offered up his skills. Since he was very good at engineering and mathematics, he designed and helped dig a drainage system for waste water and sewage, which kept the village clean of such things. He also offered himself up as a decorated warrior to Owen, who happily accepted. Immediately, he was put in charge of the fighting men of Owen’s group, some fifty of them, as well as young men who wanted to learn to fight.
It hadn’t been particularly easy, however. Big Jerald, Owen’s right-hand man, had been Owen’s captain back at Geddington in the days when Owen had a big army and seasoned men serving him. When Owen had fled King John’s wrath, Jerald had been the only knight to accompany his lord into exile, so the introduction of Cullen had been somewhat difficult for the old man.
Unfortunately, he was old, and he had served under King Henry as well as under Owen’s father during the last crusade. The Latin-quoting knight was still something of a threat to Jerald’s position amongst the outlaws, but he and Cullen were trying to work through things so they could find a happy medium. There was no open hostility between them, but it was clear that Jerald was leery of the younger knight’s presence. Cullen was trying very hard not to show the man up, but given that he was old and rather slow at times, it was difficult.
Still, he was trying.
Like now. They were having a training lesson with some of the younger, eager men – and even women – and as Cullen instructed, Jerald stood on the side and simply watched. He never tried to interject or usurp what Cullen was trying to do, but the expression on his face as he watched was rather dubious. He’d been like that every time Cullen held a lesson like this, at least five times in the past four weeks, and as Cullen instructed his class on how to not get their fingers chopped off in battle, an idea began to occur to him.
“Remember what I told you?” he reminded the group. “Ex propriis pugna. Who remembers what he means?”
A few voices shouted out. “The proper fight!”
Cullen nodded. “The proper fight, indeed.” He began to wave his hands at them. “Now, everyone back away. Form a circle around me. I will demonstrate what I mean about the proper position of your hand on a hilt. Back away, now.”
Everyone was moving back and forming the circle that Cullen had instructed them to make. As everyone backed off, Cullen pushed through them and headed straight for Jerald.
“Jerald has fought in many battles for as long as I have been alive,” he said loudly for all to hear. “He has watched these lessons I have been giving you when I know he has much to say on the matter. Jerald, will you help me demonstrate the proper grip on the hilt of a sword in battle?”
