The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 37
In truth, Kress was a warrior with a diplomat’s heart. He was the man with the silver tongue, the one to talk his way out of an ambush or even a battle. Whenever a delicate touch was required, Kress was always the man for the job, so at this moment, he realized he had a choice – he could either fight with the woman, which really wasn’t his style, or he could ease the situation and discover this gorgeous creature’s name.
He chose the second option.
“My lady, I am terribly sorry for the mishap,” he said in a tone that could usually get him what he wanted. “Had my comrades and I been paying closer attention, we would have seen you coming and we surely would not have nearly run you down. I assure you that it was quite an accident.”
Her pretty face was twisted with anger. “Accident or not, I have lost a good deal of money because of your foolishness,” she said. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“Will you allow us to make amends by helping you reclaim your money?”
It was like throwing water on a fire. The woman eyed him, not nearly so angry as she had been. But frustration lingered.
“I have no idea how much was stolen from me because of your carelessness,” she said, looking around to see the woman with the copper-colored hair and a second woman, petite and skittish, as they collected the coins from the road and from people who had tried to take some. “I had almost three pounds and a pence.”
Kress nodded patiently. “Count your money,” he said. “Whatever is missing, I will reimburse you. I hope that will atone for my clumsiness.”
He was being completely submissive, which served to cool her anger further. Surely the woman couldn’t be so furious with a man who had offered to return missing money to her from his own pocket. She still wasn’t completely happy, but at least she wasn’t being outright belligerent any longer. His calm, even tone had done the trick.
“That is the least you can do,” she said, holding out her hands as her companions came near, dropping handfuls of coins into her open palms. As the coins tinkled against each other, she eyed him a moment, looking him over. “I have never seen you before in town. Where are you from?”
Kress fought off a smile. So the pretty little thing was curious about him, was she? That was good, because so was he – about her.
“London,” he said. “Do you live in town?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “We were visiting the church.”
Kress noticed the two companions dropping coins into her hands and realized that one of them, the petite lass, had one of those prayer cards in her hands.
“Is it a feast day today?” he asked. “A local saint that is known only to those in Norfolk?”
The woman looked at him curiously. “Nay,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
He pointed to the wooden shingle that the woman’s companion was holding. “Because we saw women all over town with those prayer cards, acting in a strange manner,” he said. “We thought it was something local to Lynn.”
As the tall lass with the copper curls cleared her throat unhappily, the blonde looked up at Kress and the anger that had so recently creased her brow now morphed into something else. Humor, he thought. Whatever it was, her mood had changed quickly and the dark eyes glimmered.
“Those are not prayer cards,” she said. “They are something else.”
“What else?”
She grinned, revealing two big dimples, one in each cheek, and Kress felt his heart race at the sight. “It is most shocking,” she said. “I am not for certain that I should tell you.”
“You should not tell him, my lady,” the lass with the copper curls spoke up. “It is not for men to know.”
Kress glanced at the woman with the copper hair. She was tall, and had quite a strike, as she’d proven. There was something almost masculine about her, although she looked like a right and pretty young woman. Still… there wasn’t all soft femininity there.
“So it is some kind of woman’s feast day?” he asked, returning his attention to the blonde in the hope she would tell him. “The card is only for women?”
The blonde nodded, though it was clear she wasn’t telling him everything. “It is,” she said. She eyed him again in a most appraising way. “If I tell you, then you must swear on your oath as a knight that you cannot tell a soul.”
Kress was intrigued by a conversation that was turning slightly flirtatious. “I swear.”
“First, you must tell me your name.”
“Sir Kress de Rhydian, my lady,” he said without hesitation. Then, he indicated the men behind him, in order. “This is Sir Bric MacRohan, Sir Achilles de Dere, and Sir Alexander de Sherrington. May we know your name, my lady?”
“Nay.” The tall woman with the copper-colored curls stepped forward, putting herself between the blonde and the knights. Now she was being firm and unfriendly. “It is unseemly for the lady to introduce herself to you in public. You men will be on your way.”
Kress studied the woman for a moment, trying to decide whether to intimidate her into shrinking away or simply agreeing with her statement. She was correct, in truth. It wasn’t proper for a lady to introduce herself to a man, much less do it in public. He didn’t want to seem like a cad, or uncivilized, so unfortunately, he knew what the best course of action was.
He would have to surrender.
His gaze returned to the blonde.
“Your companion is correct, my lady,” he said. “It was bold of me to ask. Forgive me.”
The blonde was looking at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Mayhap another time, Sir Kress,” she said. “I am in town every week, where I attend mass with my lady. Mayhap she will introduce me to you should we meet again.”
Kress grinned. “Then I shall have to return to Lynn and discover the identity of a beautiful young woman,” he said. “And have no doubt that I will return.”
She smiled, the dimples deep in her cheeks. “Until then.”
“Until then.” Kress lifted a gloved hand, pointing to the coins in her hand. “Are you going to count the coins and tell me what I owe you?”
She shrugged, rather carelessly. “If I tell you now, you will have no excuse to return.”
His grin broadened. “You are quite correct,” he said. “How foolish of me not to think of that.”
Tipping his head at the lady in a gallant gesture, he deftly mounted his horse and gathered the reins, but the entire time his focus was on the lady. He was quite intrigued by her and knew that when his task was finished, he would most definitely return to Lynn in search of the lovely young woman with the pearl ribbons in her hair.
There was something about her that had his attention.
As he directed his horse past her and her companions, the young woman suddenly yanked the card out of her friend’s hand and rushed to him, handing him the card as he passed by. Kress smiled as he took it, depositing a sweet kiss on it to show her that he treasured the gift and the gesture. He kept turning to look at her, as much as he could with the full protection he was wearing, until they turned the corner and she faded from sight.
It had been a most unexpected, and impressive, encounter.
Thoughts of the blonde beauty lingered on his mind, so much so that Bric had to ask him what was on the card. Almost as if he’d forgotten about it, Kress held it up to read it, seeing the lovely scrollwork before he even got to the words. It certainly looked like a prayer card. But once he read the lewd poem on it, he was shocked to realize that it wasn’t. The card made it to Bric, Achilles, and finally Alexander, all of them greatly surprised by a prayer card that mentioned a man’s lips against a woman’s nipple.
No wonder the women in town had been swooning.
Alexander laughed so hard at the poem that he nearly fell from his horse.
CHAPTER FOUR
Castle Rising
Massive earthwork mounds covered by growth and grass signaled that the four men from William Marshal’s stable had arrived at the legendary Castle Rising.
But it wasn’t just the massive earthworks and moat that surrounded three separate baileys that made it highly impressive; it was the elaborate entry system to actually make it into the inner bailey, which was reached via a gatehouse and a path that traveled along the crest of the earthworks.
The entire complex was a veritable maze of hills and paths, of gatehouses and guards. Once the knights passed through two gatehouses, there was an intersection – to the left was the outer bailey with its big troop house, stables, and outbuildings, and to the right was another gatehouse and bridge that spanned the moat. Beyond that, the sanctum of the inner bailey.
In truth, Castle Rising was a masterpiece of engineering and there were, indeed, walls built on top of the massive earthworks for additional protection. But the true jewel of Castle Rising was the gorgeous keep in the inner bailey, a stunning example of Norman architecture. Built from gray stone with elaborate Gothic arches and windows, and an enormous forebuilding built over mural stairs that led to a forebuilding on the first level, it was a most impressive sight.
“God, I’d forgotten how big this place is,” Achilles muttered, looking at the soaring keep. “Considering it is in the wilds of Norfolk, I’ve always wondered why they built such a big place out here in the middle of nothing.”
The men were dismounting their steeds and gathering saddlebags as servants rushed forward to collect the animals. Bric, loosening his heavy gloves, glanced up at the elaborate building.
“De Winter told me it was a hunting lodge a hundred years ago,” he said. “D’Aubigney’s ancestors made a working castle out of the place. There is still a hunting park nearby.”
Achilles looked at him. “Is that so?” he said with interest. “It has been years since I have hunted. What do they hunt in the area?”
Bric shrugged. “Deer and boar, mostly,” he said, spying a little old man, well-dressed, emerging from the forebuilding and coming towards them. “Look, now; here comes Summerlin’s majordomo.”
The three men turned to see the figure approach across the dusty, rocky bailey. The old man had a halo of springy, gray hair, and he appeared rather frail, but his expression was pleasant enough.
“My lords,” he greeted. “Will you kindly state your business, please?”
It was Kress who answered. “We have been sent by William Marshal,” he said. “We seek your worthy lord.”
The majordomo looked at him, the light of understanding in his eyes. “Ah,” he said. “We were told to expect you. You have come for Lady Cadie.”
Kress’ eyebrows rose. “Lady Cadie?”
The majordomo grinned, a toothless gesture. “She is to be married to a great lord and we are very proud of her,” he said. “She shall be a great countess. Please come inside with me and I shall send for my lord.”
Kress looked to Achilles, mouthing Lady Cadie because it had a comical rhyme to it. Not something he was expecting a Welsh princess to be called, but he was wondering if the majordomo really knew who Lady Cadelyn was. The old man had mentioned she would become a countess but nothing beyond that.
Given what William had told them all, Kress suspected no one other than Summerlin knew of Lady Cadelyn’s true identity. If they were trying to hide the woman from the king, and anyone else who would have use for a full-blooded Welsh princess, then that kind of information wouldn’t be public knowledge.
The four knights followed the old man into the impressive forebuilding, which protected the stone staircase that led up to the entry foyer. The foyer opened up into a great hall, a cavernous place with a throne niche and a massive fireplace that was smoking gently.
At this time of day, it was mostly servants in the hall, moving about their duties, so the four knights entered, boots echoing against the wooden flooring, and took a seat at the end of one of two long feasting tables in the chamber. Each table could seat close to one hundred men or more, and once they took a seat, the majordomo left them and fled into an adjoining room, ordering food and drink for their guests.
As servants began to bring pitchers of wine and wooden cups to the table, the majordomo disappeared, presumably to locate Summerlin. Food soon began to arrive and the knights began to remove gloves and helms, loosening belts and generally relaxing. Kress was the first one to down a full cup of the sweet, red wine, smacking his lips with approval.
“At least they have good wine out here in the wilds of Norfolk,” he said.
The other three men weren’t far behind him, each of them drinking deeply from their cups. “Sweet,” Alexander said, licking his lips. “It tastes like some Spanish wine I had in Zaragoza, once. A nice city, Zaragoza. It had fine wine, a beautiful cathedral, but the one thing it did not have was a pretty woman giving me a card with an indecent poem on it.”
Bric and Achilles started to laugh softly as Kress dug into a pocket on his tunic and pulled forth the beautifully painted card.
“Astonishing,” he said sincerely as he looked it over again. “It truly looks like a prayer card and one would think so except for the particularly titillating poetry.”
Alexander grinned as he leaned over and plucked the card from Kress’ grasp. He held it up, studying the beautiful artwork. “Whoever did this is very accomplished,” he said. “I would say he has painted something like this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that it could be someone who was schooled by a priest or a scholar. Fine artwork such as this does not simply happen. It takes years of practice.”
Kress took the card back, looking at it seriously. “Seems like rather shocking propaganda,” he said. Then, he grinned. “But mayhap it is a message of what the lass wants me to do to her. I would not be opposed to it.”
They all snorted with humor as Bric spoke up. “It could be a trap,” he said. “I have lived in Norfolk for a few years now and I have never had a lass approach me with an offer like that.”
Kress sneered at him. “You are not as pretty as I am.”
“Or as bright.”
Bric was tapping his head in an insulting insinuation and the group laughed, mostly at Kress’ expense. But he took no offense with it.
“You are all shades of envy,” he said flatly. “You are simply jealous that she did not hand the card to you. Mark my words; I shall return when this mission is finished and find that lass.”
“Best of luck to you,” Bric said. “But if I find her first, you will have to concede to me.”
“I will concede nothing to you, Irish. And you stay away from my future conquest.”
More snorts and chuckles went around the table as Kress tucked the card away again and began pulling at the fresh bread that had been brought around. Achilles had produced a knife and was cutting off hunks of the tart, white cheese. The bread, cheese, and wine were fine refreshments and the conversation soon turned from the mysterious young woman in Lynn to the road they would take to Chester.
Having traveled extensively on his own in the middle and north of England, Alexander spoke of the best route that would take them west through Grantham and Nottingham. In fact, there was a tavern in Nottingham, one he very much wanted to visit because he’d joined friends there before they’d left on crusade with King Richard. He spoke of how old the tavern was built into the rock that supported Nottingham Castle and of how many knights passed through the establishment who had never returned home.
At that point, the conversation turned to the Great Quest itself, the one that Richard had undertaken against the great Muslim general, Salah ad-Din, which all four knights had been part of. It had been in their youths and the truth was that it seemed as if it had happened a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then and they were no longer the young, hungry knights that had answered Richard’s call. Now, they were deadly, seasoned knights in their prime.
Indeed, much had changed.
Engaged in an intense conversation about a particular skirmish on the sands of The Levant that they had all been part of, they were interrupted when a big man with shoulder-length blond hair entered the hall. The majordomo was shuffling behind the man, quickly, catching the orders that were being thrown out at him.
“… and if my wife does not know where she is, then send out men to look for her,” the man was saying in an irritated fashion. “Delesse lets that woman wander all over the damned place without restraint and she knows better than to do that. Go, now. Find Lady Cadelyn and bring her to the hall immediately.”
By this time, Kress and the others were standing to greet the man that was clearly the commander of Castle Rising. When the man saw that all attention was on him, he came to a halt next to the table and tried to ease his annoyed manner.
“Good knights,” he greeted. “I am Padraig Summerlin, Lord of Castle Rising. My majordomo tells me that The Marshal has sent you for Lady Cadelyn.”
Kress spoke first. “He has, my lord,” he said. “The word we are to give you is buddugoliaeth.”
Padraig acknowledged the key word, given to him in the missive regarding Lady Cadelyn that he had received from William Marshal. “Excellent,” he said. “Please, sit and be comfortable while we wait for the lady. May I know your names?”
“I am Kress de Rhydian,” Kress said as he resumed his seat. “My companions are Bric Mac Rohan, whom I believe you know, Achilles de Dere, and Alexander de Sherrington.”
Padraig acknowledged Bric and briefly looked to Achilles and Alexander, but his attention was mostly on Kress.
“De Rhydian,” he muttered thoughtfully. “I did not know who The Marshal was sending, but I believe I have heard your name before. Have you served anyone other than Pembroke?”
Kress nodded. “I have in the past, before I followed Richard on his Great Quest.”
Padraig’s eyes narrowed, still trying to figure out where he had heard the name. “I went on the Great Quest myself,” he said. “I was with the Earl of Arundel’s army. Did you serve the king directly?”
