Page 55

“There is trouble, Ral.” Caryn hurried toward him. “Men come from the village. Even now they are crossing the drawbridge.”

Caryn led him toward the huge oaken door and together they descended the stairs down to the bailey. A group of villagers, some armed with wooden shovels, some with iron-tipped hoes, led a huge blond, bearded man, chained both hand and foot, across the bridge and into the bailey.

His clothes hung in tatters. Dried mud clung to his short brown tunic, torn open and hanging off a sun-bronzed, thick-muscled shoulder.

His wrists and ankles were bloody where the chains had cut in, his face was a mass of cuts and bruises, his scalp had been sliced open, and his hair was matted with darkened blood.

“What goes on here?” Ral asked as he reached the men. “What has this man done to deserve such treatment?”

“Murder, my lord,” said Tosig, husband to the girl whose babe had been born in the village. “He killed a traveler on the road.”

The prisoner lifted his head, rattling the chain around his neck that connected his wrists. “I have killed no one.”

“Who are you?” Ral stepped closer, coming face-to-face with one of the few men equally as huge and powerfully built as he.

“My name is Gareth. Son of Wulfstan, thegn of Valcore.”

“I know this man.” Caryn moved away from the base of the stairs and hurried to Ral’s side. “His father was a powerful Saxon lord. ’Twas said his son was a valiant warrior.”

“Gareth of Valcore. I have heard of you,” Ral said, a memory of the name finally making its way to the surface. “You fought at Senlac. You were wounded, as was I. ’Twas said that you fought bravely.”

Hugh came forward from the group of knights and men-at-arms who had begun to gather round.

“I too have heard of him, Lord Ral. ’Twas said he fought with the rebels in sixty-nine.

There were rumors he was their leader, but there was no proof.

I heard the man was wounded near York—a lance between the ribs.

” Hugh eyed the golden-haired man who stood even taller than he. “I did not think that you still lived.”

The bearded blond knight smiled sardonically, cracking dried blood at the corner of his mouth. “I have cheated death so many times I have lost count. I have fought and I have been wounded. I have killed countless enemies in the name of war, but I have never done murder.”

Ral surveyed him cooly, assessing the man’s unflinching stare, the way his head remained high, his shoulders straight and proud. Then he turned to the villeins who had brought him in chains to the castle. “’Twould seem he was not a man easy to subdue.”

“Nay, my lord,” a cottar named Algar said. “He fought like a madman. It took more than a dozen strong men to bring him down.”

“What proof do you have of his guilt?”

“He was seen, my lord, plucking the shoes from the dead man’s feet. He stripped the coin from his purse as well.”

“I do not deny I have sunk so low as to scavenge from the dead,” the big man said. “But I did not kill him. He was slain when I found him.”

“He ran from us, lord,” said Tosig. “When we approached him, he ran.”

“And he fought like a demon,” said another. “No innocent man would have tried so hard to escape.”

“’Twas not the villeins I ran from, but the Norman overlord I knew I would face should I be captured.” The glare he threw Ral was heavy with disdain. “I have tasted Norman cruelty too many times not to know what my sentence would be. Justice is not a word that rides easy on a Norman tongue.”

“Your arrogance will not serve you here,” Ral said, turning toward Lambert and Hugh. “Take him to a storeroom below stairs.” The cellars, granary, and an area for storage sat below the great hall. “Remove his chains and see to his wounds, then see he’s securely locked in.”

“Aye, my lord,” said Hugh.

“And see he has something to eat. With a bellyful of food, mayhap his mind will dwell less on escape.”

As Hugh, Lambert, and a half-dozen men led the prisoner away, Caryn glanced anxiously up at Ral. Knowing her as he had come to, he slid an arm around her waist and urged her back toward the keep. Once they were inside the great hall, he let her draw him away from the others.

“I wish to have a word with you, my lord.”

“I did not doubt that you would,” he said with a trace of amusement.

“I do not believe Gareth of Valcore is guilty. I remember hearing tales of him during the war. His skill in battle was legendary. They called him the Griffin. ’Twas said he had the cunning of an eagle and the courage of a lion. He was a knight of honor and bravery. To some he was almost revered.”

“Men change, Cara.”

“Not that kind of man.”

Ral tended to agree. There was something of pride in the huge Saxon’s bearing, something that had shone even through the dirt and the rags. Yet war could change the most stalwart of men. Ral had seen it time and again on the battlefield.

“Will his trial be held here at Braxston?” Caryn asked.

“Nay. ’Twill be the royal court that will judge him. Mayhap William himself.”

Caryn lightly touched his arm. “Is there nothing you can do to help him?”

For a time Ral did not answer, for strangely he had been wondering that very same thing. “Why is it so important?”

Caryn looked into his face. “Should the Normans have lost the war and you had come to the same end Gareth has, I would hope your deeds of valor would speak to the Saxon lord in your defense. I would hope he would help you because he understood that you were a brave man.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “I will see what I can discover. Mayhap we can find out the truth.”

***

His steps long and urgent, Odo climbed the stairs to the keep and strode into the great hall, his gray cloak billowing out behind him. He had been gone for the past few weeks on a trip to Normandy to visit his cousin. Oliver had sent word of a possible bride.

Odo had returned without one.

“Where is Lord Ral?” he asked Richard, who stood beside Ambra near the dais in a heated discussion of the duties she wished to assume now that she had become his wife.

“We will settle this in our chamber,” Richard finished and his pretty wife scowled.

Odo’s eyes went wide as Richard bent and kissed the tip of her nose.

He was smiling when he turned away. “Welcome home,” he said to Odo.

“’Tis good to have you returned.” Richard continued to smile, more relaxed than Odo had ever seen him.

“’Tis good to be here,” he said. “Where is Ral?”

“I have not seen him since morning. While you were gone there was a murder on the road leading into the village. A man was seized and brought to the castle. He has been accused of the murder, but Lord Ral is uncertain of his guilt. He looks for more evidence before he turns the man over to the royal courts.”

“How long before he’s expected?”

“’Tis hard to say.” His face grew more intent. “What is it? What has happened?”

“The Ferret is returned. He has attacked Francois de Balmain, the king’s tax collector.”

“Balmain is dead?”

“Gravely wounded. ’Tis not known whether or not he will live. Most of his men lie dead or injured and the king’s monies are gone. For certain, ’tis the work of the Ferret.”

“God’s wounds, the man is an ogre.”

“Aye, but this time Lord Ral will catch him. The Ferret’s days will soon end.”

A noise in the entry drew their attention. Odo turned as Ral swept into the room, his dark blue tunic moving with each of his powerful strides.

“’Tis good to see you, my lord.”

“Odo!” For a moment Ral forgot his worries, smiling at Odo and clapping him hard on the back. “’Tis good to have you returned.” He glanced around the hall. “Where is your bride? I am eager to meet her. I will tell Caryn of your arrival and tonight we will—”

“There is no bride, mon ami. I have returned as unfettered as the day I left.”

“The maid was not comely enough to suit you?”

“Aye, she was comely, and meek, and well-tutored in a woman’s wifely duties.”

“What then? Her dowry was not enough?”

“Nay, ’twas more than enough.”

“But you have searched for a wife these long months past.”

Bright color stained Odo’s neck above his tunic, nearly matching the red of his hair. “’Tis only that… she did not move me.”

“Move you? I do not understand.”

He swallowed, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “I looked at her and I felt nothing.”

“You did not desire her?”

“Nay, ’twas not exactly that. I could have bedded her, ’twould not have been a hardship.

But after that…” He sighed and glanced away.

“’Tis hard to explain, but… in the weeks since your marriage…

I have watched you and your lady. I have seen your eyes when you look at her.

I have seen the way she looks at you. ’Tis the way I wish to look at a woman. ”

Ral’s brows drew together in a frown. Odo’s reminder of his feelings for Caryn brought a tight sensation to his chest. “This time ’tis you who plays the fool.”

“Your feelings for her then have changed since I left the castle?”

“Nay, but ’tis far too soon to judge how it will all turn out.

” Across the hall, Ral caught a glimpse of his little wife’s auburn-haired head as she stood in the passage.

She was speaking to Ambra, laughing at something the slender girl said.

Just the sound of her voice made a hunger sweep over him and a heaviness tug low in his belly.

He shifted uncomfortably, tiny lines creasing his brow. He didn’t like these feelings Caryn stirred. He didn’t like the possessiveness he felt toward her, or his powerful raging jealousy. He didn’t like the times he felt confused and out of control.

His settled his gaze on Odo. “’Tis best to be practical, as you once said. To wed for heirs and keep your feelings at a distance.” There were times he wished he had done so. Now it was too late.