While Angels Slept (9 page)

He pursed his
lips, knowing this was a battle he could not win but willing to make the
attempt. “Do not believe everything she tells you.  I had no hand in this. She
would blame me when the truth is that I cannot get rid of her.”

As Val burst out
in giggles, Cantia went on the attack, however in jest. “She should be married
to a fine lord and have many children about her. Why are you so selfish that
you would force her to bear arms? Haven’t you enough men at your disposal that
you do not need to force your sister into armed servitude?”

As Val hooted,
Tevin threw up his hands as if to defend himself. “My lady, if you have any
ideas on how to get my sister out of armor and into feminine garments, I am at
your mercy.  Perhaps you can succeed where I have failed.”

Cantia fought
off a grin, winking at Val as the woman stifled her snorts in her hand. “You
are a wicked brother, my lord.  See how your sister suffers because of you.”

Tevin, too, was
fighting off a grin. He simply shook his head and turned away, knowing that any
further words from him would only be twisted by Cantia’s humorous tirade.  On
the other hand, he was perfectly willing to be a target if it would help her
forget Charles Penden’s brutality.  Moreover, this was the first light moment
they’d had since his arrival to Rochester.  He was discovering that she had a
delightful sense of humor.

Cantia, for her
part, had indeed forgotten her cut lip.  The levity of the moment was helping
her mood for the first time in days.  And she was pleased to see that the
viscount also possessed a sense of humor, a surprising factor given the man’s
warring nature.  As he walked away from her, smirking, she found herself
admiring his broad back. It was a rather nice back.  But the uninvited thought
shocked her, sickened her, and she abruptly lost her humor.  She suddenly felt
very ill at ease, desperate to get out of the room and away from the inappropriate
thought that had unexpectedly entered her mind.

“I will fetch
your meal, my lady.”

Val watched her
nearly run from the room, her own humor fading at the swift departure. She looked
at Tevin, who himself had only caught the tail end of Cantia’s garments as she
fled from the door.  He met Val’s gaze.

“Why did she
leave so swiftly?” he asked.

Val shook her
head. “I do not know.”

Tevin nodded his
head, wondering if he should go after her.  Val, not surprisingly, could read
it in his eyes. And having known her brother her entire life, she could read
something else, something she had never seen before.  But just as quickly, she
chased those thoughts away. It was impossible. Still…

“Why don’t you
go after her,” she suggested, watching his expression carefully. “If we somehow
offended her, then we should apologize.”

Tevin didn’t say
a word. He merely nodded his head and left the solar. Val sat there for several
long moments, entertaining thoughts that she had never before considered. There
had never been any need. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her
brother held some interest in the lovely, grieving Lady Penden. For Tevin’s
sake, she sincerely hoped not.

Tevin caught up to
Cantia just as she exited the keep into the kitchen yard. Dogs scattered in
front of her and much activity went on all around them. Hunt was running in her
direction, splashing the contents of the wooden pitcher he held, and Cantia
directed her son to take the liquid to the lady knight.  As the boy ran on,
Tevin came up beside her.

“Is something
amiss, my lady?” he asked.

Startled at his
voice, she nearly tripped on her skirts. He had to grab her to keep her from
falling. “Nay, my lord,” she said.

“You left rather
quickly. We were afraid we had offended you somehow.”

So she had made
a fool of herself yet again.  Cantia thought she was the only one who had
noticed her swift flight. It seemed that all she did was make a fool of herself
in front of her liege. Gazing up into his dark eyes, she began to feel
extremely foolish.  

“Of course you
did not,” she said. “You could not possibly do anything to offend me. Even if
you did, I would forgive you.  But I am truly sorry if I seemed rude or abrupt.
I did not mean to.”

Tevin gazed into
her beautiful face, feeling a pull he’d never felt before. It was enough to
seriously disturb him, for whatever pity or compassion he had been feeling for
the lady over the past few days was transforming into something that seemed to
be affecting his mind as well as his tongue.  He should have fought it with all
his strength, but at the moment, he couldn’t seem to. All he knew was that any
time he spent with Lady Penden, however brief or trivial or emotional, was unlike
any time he’d ever spent before, with anyone.

“Say no more,”
he said. “As long as all is well, I shall leave you to your duties.”

She nodded,
watching as he excused himself. Cantia stood there a moment, observing his
powerful form stroll across the yard and back into the keep.  She’d never seen
a man move with such strength before, with such commanding presence.  It was
interesting to compare it to Brac’s presence, which was by far more relaxed and
easy. Brac had never radiated the power that Tevin did. It was curious. Turning
for the kitchen once again, she went about her business with a good deal on her
already-strained mind.

CHAPTER FIVE

Myles had been
on duty constantly since Brac’s passing.  Though he rode with Viscount Winterton
on the second raid to retake the Dartford Crossing bridge, he’d spent the
majority of his time patrolling the walls of Rochester and trying to keep an
eye on Charles. With Brac’s passing, Myles would assume what responsibility he
could. He owed it to Brac, and to Cantia, to do so.

Now, he was
taking a much deserved rest in the knight’s quarters. All of Viscount Winterton’s
men had temporary quarters here, and he knew them all from the past years of
battle. He knew and liked Simon Horley; the man was fierce, bold and,
strangely, thoughtful. John Swantey was also a reputable man that he was
comfortable  with. Dagan Sutton and Gavril de Reigate were latecomers to the
viscount’s corps, having been gifted to the Viscount from the Earl of Norfolk
for services in battle.  They were a quiet pair and he did not know much about
them, but he had seen that they were courageous fighters.

Myles sat at the
table in the small gathering room of the knight’s quarters, contemplating the
last of his wine and thinking he should probably try to get some sleep.  But he
seriously wondered if he should check on Lady Penden and her son first.  Though
the lady’s outward grief had not reached the fevered pitch that Charles’ had,
still, he could see how devastated she was. Myles knew very well that Cantia
and Brac had been fond of each other.

As he
contemplated his thoughts, the door to the knight’s quarters flew open and
Charles stomped in.  Myles looked up to see that the man was in a varied degree
of madness, mumbling to himself and looking around the room as he was searching
for something.  It seemed that he didn’t even see Myles until the knight spoke.
   

“Is there
something I can do for you, my lord?”

Charles froze,
looking at Myles as if started to see him.  Then he marched straight to him and
slammed his hands on the table.

“A weapon,” he
growled. “I need a weapon.”

Myles did not
like the sound of the request. “Why?”

Charles threw up
his arms. “Must everyone disobey me at my own house?” he cried. “Give me your
weapon, de Lohr. Give it to me now.”

Myles broadsword
was lying on his bed in the next room, thankfully.  Myles set his wine down and
stood up.

“I am sworn to
you, my lord,” he said steadily. “If there is any defending to be done, I will
do it in your stead.”

Charles grabbed
him as if to shake him, but Myles was too big a man to shake.  “I do not defend
anything. I will kill him.”

“Kill who?”

Charles’
expression was beyond madness. It was obsession and impulse, blended into
elixir of pure psychosis. “The viscount. He has shamed me. He has killed my
son. He must pay.”

Now it was
Myles’ turn to grab Charles. “You speak treason, my lord,” he said quietly,
firmly. “I will hear no more of this. Should the viscount catch wind of what
you have said, it would mean great danger for you and possibly your family. You
must keep yourself in check, my lord, or all will be lost. Do you understand
me?”

Charles’ lips
curled back in a sneer that just as quickly faded.  “I understand that he has
invaded my home. Rochester is no longer mine.”

“Rochester will
always belong to the stewards,” Myles assured him, praying that the man would
get a grip on himself. “Get some sleep, my lord. You’ve not slept for days and
your exhaustion is weighing heavily. Come to the next room and…”

Charles yanked
away from Myles, pacing sloppily across the floor. “She did this,” he muttered.
“That foolish wench has caused this. She sides with him, you know.”

“Who?”

“The viscount,”
Charles muttered. “She sides with him. He protects her. They are going to take
Rochester away from me. Well, that will not happen. It cannot. I forbid it!”

He suddenly
bolted from the room before Myles could catch him.  He stood in the doorway,
watching Charles lose himself in the bustle of the ward.  He could only shake
his head; so much for the idea of sleep.

 Myles went in
search of Tevin.

***

The January day
was cool and rainy. Clouds had moved in off the sea and a steady rain had
pounded the land since late morning.   Cantia was in the solar with Val,
feeling obligated to give special attention to the sister of her liege.  After
the meal that the injured lady so delicately ate, for even swallowing seemed to
be painful, Cantia had the fire stoked and proceeded to warm some water to wash
the lady with.

Val didn’t
protest as Cantia ran a warm, wet cloth over her one good shoulder and one good
arm, and then moved to clean the dirt off her face.  Val really was a pretty
woman, even prettier without all of the grime associated with battle.  Cantia
said little as she bathed her patient and made every effort to insure the woman’s
comfort.  Val had been watching her closely, however, thinking that she had
never before seen such a lovely woman. She could understand her brother’s
fascination with her.

At some point,
Hunt entered the solar with the ever-present dog on his heels.  Hunt was used
to coming and going as he pleased, for his father never admonished him for
anything.  Brac had always been unusually lenient with the child and though
Hunt wasn’t spoiled, he was bold. He walked right up to Val as Cantia tightened
the bandages that braced her bad shoulder.

His big blue
eyes focused on the lady knight. “You are not a real knight,” he said flatly.

Cantia looked at
her son with displeasure. “Hunt, you are rude to address the lady so,” she admonished
softly. “Please apologize.

But Val grinned,
waving off the motherly scolding. “Nay, my lady, he is quite right,” she said.
“I am not a man and, therefore, not a real knight. But I fight as one anyway.”

“Why?” Hunt
asked innocently.

“Because that is
my calling.”

Hunt cocked his
head. “You are called? Called what?”

Val’s grin
broadened. “I simply mean that this is what I do. I was born to do it.”

“But…” his
little nose scrunched in confusion. “How can you fight if you are not a real
knight?”

“Enough,” Cantia
turned her son around and face him towards the door. “Take George outside and
play with him. Throw him the balls. He likes that.”

Hunt dug his
heels in. “But I’m hungry!”

“Then go to the
kitchen,” she slapped him lightly on the buttocks.  “Cook will give you
something to eat. Go now and leave me in peace.”

Hunt did as he
was told, but not before he walked a wide circle around the room, touching
everything within his reach, all the while watching his mother finish tending
the lady knight.  Only when Cantia shot him a threatening look did he leave the
room completely. When he was gone, she dared meet Val’s amused gaze.

“I must
apologize for my son’s behavior,” she said. “He is, unfortunately, quite
stubborn and not quick to obey.”

Val merely
grinned. “He is still very young. But that will change when you send him to
foster. He’ll have to obey swiftly or risk a beating.”

Cantia’s
delicate fingers froze for a moment, then resumed tightening the bandage. Val
glanced at the woman, noting that her expression was seemed distressed. She
wrongly guessed at the trouble.

“Do not worry,
Lady Penden,” she said. “He will learn to obey. Have you selected his foster
house yet?”

When Cantia
looked at her, Val swore she saw tears. But Cantia quickly lowered her gaze,
refocusing on the wrappings.  “Nay,” her voice was strangely tight. “He… he is
still too young to foster.”

“Not
necessarily,” Val said. “My brother was about Hunt’s age when he left for
Kenilworth Castle to foster. Our father arranged for that when he was born. 
Tevin was gone for many years… I did not truly even come to know my brother until
his return as a fully-fledged knight. He was eighteen years of age.”

Cantia’s head
came up again. “He was gone for thirteen years?”

“Aye.”

Cantia left the
bandages.  Head hung, she went back over to the table and collected the things
she had brought with her – more bandages, a bowl, a small knife to cut the
cloth with.  She piled them all in the bowl and moved for the door.  But as she
left, Val heard the distinct sound of stifled sobs.  They only grew louder when
the woman quit the room and thought she could no longer be heard.  Val called
out to her, twice, but the lady apparently did not hear her.