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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

H e was leaving.

Well, not exactly leaving, but he was going to go north to recruit more men for Snow Hill’s army just as he’d told Tresta. He was so embarrassed about his outburst that he couldn’t look her in the face. Perhaps a few days away would ease that shame to the point where he might actually be able to speak with her again.

He’d spoken of things to Tresta that he had never wanted to say, at least not the way he’d done it. Certainly, at some point he intended to press his suit, but her talk of him being one of the family had thrown him over the edge and into a free fall of emotion. All of the things he wanted to say came spilling out and the look on her face had been one of shock… or had he seen revulsion? Or had he only imagined it? In any case, he was going to leave for a few days and try to recover his composure.

He was in his chamber in the knights’ quarters of Snow Hill, a nice stone building situated against the castle walls that had once housed Gilbert and William as well as himself. There was a small common room and Tarran was just only now coming to terms with the grief that room provoked every time he walked into it. He and Gilbert and William had many long, late-night conversations in that room over the years. He missed his friends.

He missed them all.

“Tarran?”

There was a knock at his open door and he turned to see Hallam standing there. The pale young man smiled timidly when their eyes met and he entered the room, looking at the half-filled satchel on the bed.

“I see you’re leaving,” he said. “Tresta said you were going north to recruit more men.”

Tarran nodded as he crammed a rolled up tunic into the saddlebag. “The visitor we had last night said that he had a lot of men on his land loyal to England,” he said. “Did you hear him say that? I thought that I could venture up there and see if I can recruit men for our army.”

Hallam slapped him affectionately on the back. “Loyal Tarran,” he said. “You are the truest, most dedicated man in all of England. We are very fortunate to have you.”

Tarran’s movements slowed until he finally came to a pause. Something in Hallam’s tone seemed more complimentary than usual and he knew why.

“She told you, didn’t she.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Hallam lowered himself into a small chair next to the door. “Aye,” he said honestly. “She told me. I thought you might need a friend to talk to.”

Tarran resumed his packing, but his movements were bordering on rough and angry now. “There is nothing to say,” he said. “I appreciate your coming, Hallam, but there is nothing more to say. Unfortunately, I have already said it all.”

Hallam watched him shove more things into the saddlebag. “Tarran,” he said quietly. “It is not as bad as all that. Did you stop to think that mayhap she has been thinking the same thing all along?”

Tarran stopped and looked at him. “That is not true,” he said. “She has been grieving her husband, as she should be. I am a despicable man for trying to interfere with that.”

“You are not interfering,” Hallam said. “Tarran, Teague is never coming back. He is dead. He has no more use for his wife, who is now a widowed woman and free to remarry whom she chooses. You have been a kind, honorable man and my sister is more grateful for that than you will ever know. What if I told you that she has feelings for you, but she has felt very guilty about it?”

Tarran’s brow furrowed as he pondered that. He had another rolled tunic in his hand but he sat down on the bed, still holding it, his features full of confusion.

“Guilty for what?” he said. “She has nothing to feel guilty for. I am the one who is to blame.”

Hallam shook his head. “You are not hearing me,” he said. “I asked her if she thought that she could love you, with time, but she told me that she believes she already does. However, she is not ready to let go of Teague yet. Tarran, if you want my thoughts on this matter, I will tell you– I want to see my sister happy again. I know you could make her happy. You have told her how you feel so now she knows. If you are patient with her, I believe she’ll eventually let go of Teague and focus on the living– you . Are you willing to be patient?”

Tarran drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “I would wait forever if necessary,” he said. “It’s strange, Hallam… the Tresta who was married to Teague seems like a different woman from the one I’ve come to know since our return from Le Touquet. That Tresta was demanding, stubborn, dramatic… do you know that she told me the reason she wanted to go to The Levant with Teague was because she has an ailment in her lungs that may eventually kill her? She wanted to die with Teague. She was so afraid of being separated from him. But since our return, I have seen a strong, determined, but reasonable woman. She still has coughing spells, but she is nowhere close to dying. It’s as if… as if Teague’s death forced her to grow up. She became the woman she was always meant to be.”

Hallam smiled faintly. “She married Teague very young,” he said. “I think there was part of her who still saw herself as young and immature, and he let her get away with it. He coddled her, loved her, but I think he liked her that way. He liked taking care of a young wife. But she’s no longer young and I think you are correct– his death forced her to grow up.”

Tarran thought on Teague, on Tresta, looking absently at the tunic in his hands as he did so. “She will make a fine wife for any man,” he said quietly. “I suppose I never imagined that she could ever be for me.”

“She can. You must be patient.”

Tarran stood up again, resuming packing at a slower pace. “I am going north for a few days and it will give me time to think,” he said. “Mayhap it will give her time to think, too.”

Hallam nodded. “I had suggested the very same thing to Tresta,” he said. “You two have been together every day since those days at Calais. I think a few days apart, to think about what you both want, will do you a world of good.”

Tarran tied off the full saddlebag. “Hopefully,” he said. Then, he paused. “When I entered this chamber, I was absolutely mortified at my behavior. But now… now, I think I’m glad I said what I did. I suppose time will tell.”

Hallam smiled at him and stood up. “Time heals all things,” he said. “It is something there is an abundance of these days. Now, I will collect the fat brown horse and prepare him for a possible sale. When is this man coming to see him?”

Tarran shook his head. “I am not certain,” he said, going with the change of focus. “It was the visitor from last night and he said he would return next week, but with this weather, it is difficult to know. But I am all packed up here, so I will come to the stable with you. Let’s speak on the price we intend to ask. I know what I paid for the horse, but if I am to sell him, I want to make some money from it.”

Hallam agreed. As they headed through the door, however, Tarran stopped him.

“Back to the subject of your sister,” he said. “For what you said just now… thank you. Teague had a big stable of knights, bigger than some with me and Sheen, William and Gilbert, and sometimes you were left at the end of all things. You did not foster as we did, you did not share some of the same experiences as we did given that you were a merchant’s son and Teague knighted you, but you have excellent qualities that I am ashamed to say I sometimes overlooked. I will not make the same mistake again.”

Hallam smiled at the admission. “I wanted very much to be like you and Teague and William and Gilbert,” he said. “I knew that I was not, but I tried very hard. Your words mean a great deal to me, Tarran. Next to Teague, you are the man I most hoped to emulate.”

Tarran grinned, patting the man on the head. “You are well on your way, Hallam,” he said. “Well on your way.”

With a new spirit of camaraderie between them, they headed out to the stable where the fat horses were getting fatter. The bright sun overhead was melting the snow and over near the keep, they could see the big pair and the little pair still playing their games, only now it was the big pair destroying the castle that the little pair was rebuilding. The screams of Jasper and Rhys filled the bailey as Hector broke up the fight, leaving Tarran and Hallam to laugh at the antics as they headed into the stable.

Tresta was gone, thankfully for Tarran, and he headed over to the warmblood that they purposely kept stabled away from Arion, who had taken a distinct dislike to the animal. It had been a challenge keeping them separated on the journey home from La Touquet, so Tarran thought he would move Arion into a corral outside so he could enjoy some sunlight while he and Hallam tended to the warmblood. The animal had been affectionately named Muet , a French term for silent or speechless, because he never made a sound. The horse was actually quite docile, which made Arion’s reaction to him confusing.

As Hallam went to untie Muet’s tether, Tarran went into Arion’s stall, speaking calmly and softly to the high-strung horse so he wouldn’t startle. Arion was a true destrier, a warhorse of the finest order, and he was trained to kill. He liked Tarran, fortunately, who seemed to be the only one other than Teague who could ride the animal.

Tarran petted the beast affectionately before releasing the tether and moving him out of the stall. Just as he passed by Muet and Hallam, Arion caught sight of the brown horse and threw his head back, baring his teeth. Tarran had a good grip on him and tried to pull him forward, but Muet saw Arion and being afraid of the big horse, kicked out, striking Arion on the chest. That was enough for Arion to slam into Tarran, throwing his big head menacingly and smashing Tarran straight into the stable wall. Unprepared, Tarran hit the stone wall head-first.

He collapsed in a heap.