The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 99
“Where are we?” she asked.
Hamilton didn’t answer. They passed a few more soldiers, men dressed in fine mail with tunics of crimson and gold. Reaching a large, new oaken door with heavy iron fixtures, Hamilton lifted the latch and ushered her inside.
“Do not leave this room.” His polite request sounded suspiciously like a command. “I shall return as soon as I can.”
Teodora listened to the door shut, the latch falling back into place. The chamber was dark, a small fire in the oversized hearth offering minimal light and warmth. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could see that the room was very lavishly furnished; heavy tapestries hung on the walls and a great woolen rug covered the floor. There were rushes near the hearth and surrounding a very large bed near the far wall. She peered more closely at the massive bed, noting its impossibly stuffed mattress and extravagant curtains.
She’d never seen anything like it.
“Do you like it?”
A voice from the darkness startled her. Swinging about, she caught sight of a figure seated in a large, high-backed chair. Hidden by the long shadows, she could hardly make out anything more than the bottom half of a torso.
“I… I am sorry,” she said. “I did not know there was anyone in this room. Sir Hamilton brought me here to…”
“What is your name?”
Teodora paused a moment, deliberately. She peered more closely at the figure. “I shall tell you my name when I know who it is I am addressing.”
“You do not recognize me?”
“I can’t even see you.”
The figure shifted, sitting forward. The lavish robe covering the body partially fell away, revealing naked legs and a small, hairy chest. Shocked, Teodora took a step back as a man with black hair and one droopy eye came into focus.
“I am your king,” he said quietly. “And you are the Lady Barklestone?”
It took Teodora a moment to realize she was speaking to John. Startled and confused, she curtsied deeply, not knowing what else to do.
“Highness,” she tried not to stammer. “Please forgive me. I had no idea you were here.”
John smiled faintly. “Turn around, my lady. Let’s have a look at you.”
Teodora was bewildered. “I… I do not know…”
John extended an index finger, stirring it in the air. “Turn. I would inspect you.”
Teodora’s eyebrows drew together. She was about to question him but thought better of it. Slowly, without grace, she turned a single circle.
John was still smiling. “Exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. How old are you, my lady?”
“I have seen eighteen years, Your Highness,” she replied, fighting off a sense of uneasiness. She felt suspiciously like a mouse that had been led to a trap, though she was unwilling to believe that Sir Hamilton knew the king was in this room. Still, her inclination to leave this very moment was powerful. “I again apologize for disturbing you. If you will excuse me, I shall leave you to your evening.”
John merely smiled. Teodora took two more steps and suddenly bumped into a warm body, standing near the door. Startled, she jumped away, gazing at a man with long, dirty hair and a scarred face. He smiled at her, lasciviously.
“Lady Barklestone, allow me to present Sir Barric Fitz Hammond,” the king said, gesturing with a limp hand. “He is the Lord Justice of Rockingham.”
Barric bowed deeply. “’Tis a pleasure, my lady.”
Two men. One lady. Teodora didn’t like the odds at all and her hands began to shake, more from indecision than from fear. Defending herself from the earl had been one matter, but the king and his Lord Justice created entirely another. Were she to resist, Cullen might not be able to save her this time.
Quickly, her mind sorted through the possibilities. To fight was not an option, not only because there were two of them and only one of her, but because striking the king would mean instant death. And she was in a bad position to simply run away; the Lord Justice was blocking the door quite efficiently. Her cheeks flushed and her head began to swim, and from her symptoms came an immediate idea.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” she said, putting a hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “I am feeling rather poorly this evening. I suppose my travels have finally caught up to me. As much as I would like to stay and entertain you, I fear I must return to my apartments and lie down before I collapse.”
John’s long, thin hand moved in the direction of the bed. “If you feel ill, you may rest here. I should not like you walking the corridors feeling as poorly as you do and, quite possibly, fainting on the stone. ’Twould not do your health well at all.”
Teodora hissed a silent curse; foiled! Before she realized what was happening, Barric grasped her arm with the intention of helping her to the bed. Infuriated, not to mention startled, she yanked her arm away.
“I do not require your assistance, my lord,” she growled.
The weak-voiced lady from a moment earlier was gone, a powerfully indignant woman in her place. The king eyed Teodora, knowing that she realized his scheme and that the game was now afoot. It was time to act. Forgoing the usual pleasantries, he nodded to Barric.
“Put her on the bed,” he said. “Strap her down if necessary.”
Barric wasn’t a big man, but he was strong and wiry. Teodora saw him coming for her and natural instincts took hold. Swinging her fists, she caught him on the corner of the mouth and drew blood. Angry, Barric cuffed her on the side of the head. Teodora then retaliated by shoving the palm of her hand into his nose, drawing a painful groan from him. Wrestling furiously, Barric and Teodora continued to tussle but drew no closer to the bed. John watched the ensuing battle from his chair, growing impatient.
“Stop fooling with her, Barric,” he commanded. “Put her to the bed!”
Barric grunted, trying to trap both of her swinging arms. “I am… trying.” He dodged a flying fist and threw his shoulder into her abdomen, tossing her up and onto his back. Carrying her across the room, he threw her brutally on the bed.
But Teodora would not be easily caught, nor easily subdued. She tried to slither off the bed, kicking Barric furiously as he tried to tie her to the bedpost. He managed to trap one hand but not the other until the king lent his assistance. John was weary of watching the struggle and his fully engorged manhood demanded he sate himself. Observing her strength and spirit over the past few moments, he could only imagine how satisfying she would be when he bedded her.
“Resistance is futile, Lady Barklestone,” John said, grunting with the effort of attempting to quell her. “Submit peacefully and I shall be merciful. But continue this foolish fight and my wrath shall be felt.”
Teodora was like a trapped animal, all of her reason and logic vanished in lieu of pure panic. She brought her leg up, catching the king in the torso and sending him staggering across the floor.
Barric, horrified that the king had been struck, summoned every last ounce of strength and tied Teodora’s remaining wrist to the bed. Partially tethered, Teodora maintained her fight by kicking with her long legs and twisting her body in all directions to prevent them from securing her further. If the king wanted to take her, then he was going to have to work for it.
“Stupid wench,” Barric growled, wiping the trickle of blood from his mouth. “By the end of this eve, I shall see you humbled like a beaten horse.”
Robe hanging open, revealing his thin body and enormously aroused manhood, the king shook his head and pushed Barric aside.
“No need, Barric,” he said. “I rather enjoyed the struggle. ’Twill make this victory all the sweeter.”
Teodora was distracted from her fight by the sight of the naked king. She’d never seen anything so horribly grotesque in her entire life. John took advantage of the momentary lull to throw his body atop her, wedging himself between her kicking legs. Barric leapt to the king’s aid, holding her by the ankles as John took a good look at his quarry.
“Fine, fine,” he murmured, trailing a finger down her neck. “You are quite fine.”
His stinking breath was in her face as he lifted her skirts, just a little higher, with Barric’s assistance. He tried to kiss her but she turned her face away, sputtering. Perturbed, he bit her on the shoulder. Teodora stifled a cry, refusing to acknowledge she was now his prisoner. Subdued like an animal, she was trapped and they both knew.
“If you do not relax, I can guarantee this will be a painful venture,” the king said quietly. “Barric, do you think she is prepared to accept me?”
Teodora’s legs were apart, held in place by the king’s body weight and Barric’s hands. She could feel fingers on her knees, as if teasing her. She convulsed, trying to move away, but the men held her fast.
“I cannot imagine she is, Highness,” Barric said seductively. “All of this fighting surely has her dry as a summer well.”
The king smiled down at her before cruelly plugging the sash of his robe into her mouth to quell her screams. “We must help her, Barric,” he said. “She must be ready to accept all of me or this eve will not go well for her in the least. Nay, not in the least.”
Teodora was barely able to breathe with the wad of silk in her mouth. The king lapped the swell of her breasts as Barric began to stroke her ankles. Teodora was verging on hysteria, closer to losing her carefully held control than she had ever been in her life. The only person who had touched her like this had been Cullen, and his caresses had been so sweet that to compare it to this mayhem was nauseating. The urge to give in to self-pity was overwhelming.
But it was not her nature to surrender and, once again, she began to twist and heave, hoping to dislodge her two accosters. Still, she suspected this night would end only one way – with the king’s lust sated deep inside her, and she ultimately becoming another royal victim. But she would not go down without a fight.
The stroking of her lower legs was becoming more forceful. Barric’s attention was moving alarmingly close to her knees, and beyond that was the junction between her legs. The king moved down her body, lifting her skirts higher and quickly holding down a leg that was aimed for his head. His hands joined Barric’s as Teodora struggled against them, ashamed and horrified. She heard the men snicker, whisper, and then the hands were removed. Teodora strained to catch a glimpse of what was happening and realized the king was holding his member, stroking it, as Barric removed himself from the bed. John caught her stare and smiled.
“Relax, Lady Barklestone,” he murmured. “I do believe you might enjoy this as much as I.”
She shouted something at him, muffled by the silk. John climbed on to the bed and Teodora closed her eyes, praying that God would let her live through this night. She prayed it would be over quickly, that there would be no pain, that that she would not conceive a royal bastard. And she prayed, more fervently than anything else, that Cullen would not look upon her with revulsion for allowing this to happen.
She expected to feel the full hardness of the king at any second. What she did not expect was for the chamber door to suddenly explode, a thousand splinters flying across the room as the panel crashed violently to the floor. Cullen was suddenly in the doorway, his handsome face a mask of rage and vengeance. His sword was leveled and as Barric charged him, a big dagger in his hand, Cullen thrust his blade into Barric’s gut.
The king fell off the bed in his fear and haste. When he saw Barric sprawled on the floor in a growing pool of blood, he shrieked.
“De Nerra!” he cried. “I am of royal blood! You may not harm me lest you incur instant death!”
Cullen was pure hate, seething with venom and fury. He stared at the king, his gaze then moving to Teodora tied to the bed. Slowly, he sheathed his sword and moved to her, removing the sash from her mouth. She gazed up at him, licking her damp lips, wondering if the disgust she saw in his eyes was meant for her.
“Cullen,” she breathed. “I…”
“Did he harm you?” Cullen’s voice was cold.
Teodora shook her head unsteadily. “Nay… that is to say, I am well enough to…”
“Did he penetrate you, my lady?” Cullen would not hear her meaningless chatter.
Teodora was at a loss for words. “I… I don’t know what you…”
Cullen took her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You know exactly what I mean. Did he penetrate your body with his?”
She gazed into his eyes, dark orbs so clouded over by emotion that they were difficult to read. She wasn’t sure how to answer. But the only thing that came to mind was the truth. The sickening, embarrassing truth.
“He did not penetrate me with his body,” she said quietly, nearly choking on the words. “And the Lord Justice only touched me.”
“Where?”
“He touched my leg.”
“That is all?”
“Aye.”
“Do you swear this to me?”
“I do.”
Cullen stared at her, intensely, hoping that if she was lying for whatever reason that his stare would draw the truth out of her. She was well aware of what was as stake and, perhaps, thought to lessen the impact by diminishing the facts. But she held her ground, staring back at him steadily. After a moment, he released her shoulders and turned to the king.
John was cowering against the wall, his dark eyes hard and cold. It was a struggle for Cullen not to charge him.
“For the fact that you did not take her in the most intimate sense, your life is spared,” he rumbled. “Any man who would touch the countess, king or pauper, will suffer my wrath on this or any other matter. Is that understood, Highness?”
John’s steely demeanor made a quick return. Carefully, he collected his robe where he had thrown it, draping it over his shoulders. “You realize, of course, that your life is forfeit, de Nerra,” he said quietly. “No man levels a threat against the king and lives. Moreover, for murdering the Lord Justice, you must pay the price.”
“Barric had a weapon drawn against me. Had I not gored him, most certainly he would have gored me.” With one hand, Cullen untied the strips holding Teodora’s wrists. “I killed him in self-defense. You and the countess are witnesses to the fact.”
“You killed him in a cold-blooded rage,” John screamed. “You’ll lose your head come the morrow, de Nerra. This I promise.”
Freed, Teodora leapt from the bed, pulling her skirts down and moving to stand behind Cullen as if he were some sort of human shield between her and the king. But she had heard the words of John and looked at Cullen with such terror that he could feel the physical impact.
“Beheaded?” she whispered. “Cullen, you cannot…”
Cullen shushed her harshly. His focus was still on the king. Calmly, John collected himself and moved to the door of the chamber with such sedate behavior it seemed he was leaving a dinner party. He glanced at Barric, twitching and bleeding on the floor.
“I shall send my physic for the Lord Justice,” he said, looking at Cullen with the eyes of the devil. “As for you, Sir Cullen, I would suggest you return to the earl’s apartments to await your arrest. It shan’t be long in coming.”
He was gone, the rush of cold evil air following in his wake. Teodora turned to Cullen, feeling more terror than she had ever known.
“You cannot stay,” she grabbed him by the arms insistently. “You’ve got to leave this place and never return!”
Cullen tried to dislodge her vise-like grip. “Calm yourself. There is always another way.”
“Nay!” she nearly shouted at him. “You must leave, do you hear? I…”
Godfrey was suddenly in the doorway, his pale face slack with shock. He stared at Barric, and, finally, at Cullen.
“Christ, man,” he hissed. “What have you done?”
Cullen looked at him as if he had no idea what he was talking about. “Done? I’ve done nothing but defend the countess.”
Godfrey appeared sick. “But you’ve… you’ve killed Fitz Hammond, Cullen. Don’t you realize what that means?”
“Of course I do.”
Godfrey stared at him a moment before shaking his head as if absolutely devastated by the entire circumstance. “Christ, I knew this would…” He shook himself, trying to gain what was left of his senses. “I just saw the king down the hall. He is ordering his household guard to arrest you.”
Cullen nodded calmly. Teodora was growing increasingly hysterical. “He must leave, Sir Godfrey. The king is planning to behead him on the morrow for the murder of the Lord Justice!”
Godfrey nearly choked. “Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he swore softly. “She’s absolutely right, Cullen. You must leave immediately.”
They were jumping at him from all sides. Cullen held up his hands to silence them. “I cannot simply walk away from everything I have attained in life, everything I have yet to accomplish. The king may be a conniving snake, but he is not unreasonable. If I can talk to him, perhaps I can…”
Hamilton burst into the room, his round face flushed and damp. “Cullen!” he rasped. “The household guard is coming for you. John is assembling an armed escort at the end of the corridor and it will not be long before they arrive. What in the hell has happened that they would come to arrest you?”
Teodora’s tone turned from sweet to vicious in a split second. “You know exactly what happened, Sir Hamilton,” she snarled. “You brought me to this room where the king and the Lord Justice were waiting for me. Sir Cullen had no choice but to protect me from them, resulting in the Lord Justice’s death. If there is anyone to blame in this, it is you!”
Hamilton was taken aback. “My lady,” he stammered. “I…”
Cullen was very interested in Teodora’s words. “You brought her here, Banbury?”
Hamilton shook his head imploringly. “I did not know, Cullen, I swear it. I merely brought her here to change her gown and…”
“Lies!” Teodora boomed. “You brought me here to sate the king’s lust!”
The intrigue was growing. Cullen’s gaze passed between the two knights, each man apparently willing to point the finger at the other. “Godfrey,” he said slowly. “Your wife said that the king had taken the countess but made no mention of the details. You sat beside her and listened to every word. Why did you not mention that it was Banbury who escorted her here?”
