Warrior's Deception

Lenora’s gaze settled on the reed-thin knight. “What do you know of this tourney?” She spread her grass-stained apron and undertunic over her knees. “Why is Matilda so intent on going?”

“’Tis as we feared. King Henry wishes to reward his siege commanders with some festivities. There are a few to whom he owes much gold. In particular, the knight Roen de Galliard.” She saw Beatrice stiffen her back even more and begin to fold and unfold the hem of her apron. ‘Twas easy to see the girl’s nervousness at just the mention of the knight’s name.

Lenora took a quick breath. “Gold the king does not have or wish to part with. Henry will pay off his commanders with a rich wife.” The knight’s reputation had made its way even to Aquitaine. Though she had never seen him, she knew well the type, crude and self-centered. Roen de Galliard did not sound like a man with patience for Beatrice’s fears. The knight would devour her gentle cousin and leave behind only a shell of the woman.

Geoffrey gazed at Beatrice’s quiet suffering. At last, her cousin spoke, her voice colored with hope. “Rich…then it cannot be me they’ll seek. King Henry already owns all my lands. Mother and I are penniless.”

“Aye, Cousin, but Father set aside a small manor as your dowry.” Lenora did not wish to dash the young woman’s hopes but ‘twas best to tell the truth. “A knight desperate to have a keep of his own might not be averse to it. Besides, now that Louis is dead, if I do not marry, Woodshadow would be yours.”

With inborn grace, Beatrice rose from her seat to kneel at Lenora’s side. Her eyes clouded with sadness as she stared past her cousin. Old nightmares showed on her face. “Stephen and Henry’s war cost us much. You, your brother, my mother, her husband and wealth. And I, my courage.”

“Courage, Beatrice? ‘Tis a brave girl you are. You survived the pillage of your home and the death of your father. You meet your true love in secret, unknown to your mother. ‘Tis uncommon courage, that alone. Your mother is no small obstacle, despite her size.”

“With much help from you,” Geoffrey said, chuckling in agreement. He went to Beatrice’s side and waited until she placed her fingertips in the palm of his hand before helping her to rise. When she reached her feet, she stepped back and stood apart from him. The struggle between love and fear ravaged her face.

Too many memories of the night her father died kept Beatrice from Geoffrey’s arms. From hearing her cousin’s nightmares, Lenora knew that the sights and sounds of the carnage and rapes still haunted the young woman’s feelings for the young knight. She prayed that her childhood friend Geoffrey would have the patience and understanding to mend Beatrice’s tattered emotions.

“Help you?” Lenora arched an eyebrow. “Aye, I suppose I’ve smuggled in a love poem or two. Guided you through the secret passages and tunnels so that you could meet. Most important, I’ve kept Aunt Matilda at bay so she’d not know what’s going on.” She winked at Geoffrey to show her words were meant to tease.

“I wish you could help us now.” Dejection rimmed Beatrice’s words. Geoffrey carefully placed his arm around her shoulder. She stiffened but did not pull away.

A suggestion came to Lenora. “Geoffrey, you could come forth. Declare yourself to my father and Matilda.”

“Your aunt would not appreciate her only daughter considering the attentions of a poor younger son and a Champlain at that.” Geoffrey spit out his family name in disgust. “Matilda is seeking wealth and the ear of the throne. She’d not get that with me as a son-in-law. I won’t marry Beatrice until I can support her.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I’m working on a plan. Soon, I’ll have enough money and prestige to impress her mother, regardless of my name.”

“How?” Lenora noticed the light that came to her friend’s face. Perhaps he really did have a workable plan.

Geoffrey flipped his cloak over his arm and held it just below his eyes. “’Tis a secret.” Like a night phantom, he drew the cloak away from his face.

Always dreaming, always telling stories to amuse and make them laugh. Geoffrey would never change. Beatrice placed her hand softly on his arm. Devotion to her knight shone in her sparkling azure eyes.

Lenora pursed her lips while she studied the couple and pondered the situation. “’Tis true, Beatrice. Your mother would be ecstatic to regain ties to the throne and restore her wealth. Unfortunately, as Geoffrey said, marriage to him would not accomplish that.”

“If only Father had backed Henry instead of Stephen.” Beatrice released a wistful sigh.

“So say all the adulterine lords,” Lenora answered sagely. “Their lands have been taken at siege and their castles dismantled. ‘Twas a bloody end to a bloody time.”

“Aye, that is true enough. Stephen’s reign was anarchy,” Geoffrey concurred with her. “Your father did well to send you these past few years to live in Aquitaine with Henry’s Queen Eleanor. With Louis in battle and Woodshadow under attack every few months, I’m sure it eased your father’s mind to have you safe.”

He gave Beatrice a worried look. “At least your fathers both took a side. My own is nothing but a conniver who played both sides against each other. Henry would have his head if he could find the proof.”

“The war has changed us all.” Lenora smiled at her cousin. “Queen Eleanor taught me a great deal while I was with her. She’s a woman of remarkable power and intelligence.”

“Have you decided yet if you will return to the queen?” Geoffrey pressed her for an answer. “Or have you found a nice quiet abbey to continue your studies?” His eyes searched her face. The intensity of the look made her uncomfortable.

She shook her head. “I’ve made no decision as yet. There is too much here to consume my time. My future will wait until the problems at Woodshadow are solved.”

“Of which I am one,” Beatrice berated herself.

Geoffrey took her small hand in his own. “I suffer your loss, yet I’m glad you and your mother had to come here. Without that tragedy, I might never have met you, and had my empty life filled with the pure love of your smile.” The young knight gazed into Beatrice’s sorrowful eyes, and his hand caressed the worry lines from her brow.

“And, of course, Aunt Matilda would never have so apt a student as myself anywhere else,” Lenora quipped with sarcasm. The couple laughed, the pensive mood broken.

“’Lenora, a lady of your background should not smell of a stable!’” ‘She mimicked her aunt’s voice. “’Lenora, ‘tis not proper behavior to disagree with Lord Ranulf on correct agricultural methods.’”

Her cousin joined in the laughter, then grew somber. “Mother can be overbearing at times, but she just wants to repay your father. Since your mother is dead, she feared he wouldn’t take us in.”

“So teaching her motherless niece to be an acceptable young lady helps to keep her from feeling like she’s charity.” Lenora scratched her temple. “I’m sorry, Beatrice. I’ll try to be more…” A word that would express her emotions politely but spare her delicate cousin’s feelings just wouldn’t pop into her mouth.

“Nay,” Beatrice admonished. “Do not be anything but what you are. If I were as clever as you, I’d be able to avoid Mother’s plans for me. My only prayer is that the lands your father set aside for me will not interest a knight.”

Though said, Lenora could tell Beatrice gave the prospect little hope.

“Perhaps, if you went with her to Tintagel, you could think of some diversion to keep Beatrice away from any prospective grooms. I will be there, also, and between the both of us we should be able to protect her.” Geoffrey paused as a portly servant woman lumbered toward the stable.

“Lady Lenora, Lady Beatrice.” The woman waddled into view as Geoffrey ducked behind a haystack. “By the saints!” She stopped in front of the two girls and paused, taking deep gulps of air. Her huge chest rose up and down like a blacksmith’s forge. “Lady Matilda sent out the word the two of ye is to go to the great hall straight away.”

“Thank you, Alyse. We will be right there.” Lenora braced her arm at the doorway and blocked the view to the interior of the stable.

“See that you hurry, Lady Lenora. That woman is on a rampage, giving commands to everyone. She’s got poor Sir Hywel running circles to get everything done.” The woman mopped her forehead with the edge of her soiled apron. “’Tis too hot for a woman of my size to be running around like a youngster.” Alyse turned and plodded back across the bailey to the kitchen, muttering to herself as she fanned her red face.

“I must leave, my love.”

Lenora peeked under her arm and saw Geoffrey emerge from his hiding place. He gave Beatrice a chaste kiss on the forehead. “I will see you at Tintagel in a fortnight. With Lenora’s help, we will keep your mother from executing her plan.”

He winked conspiratorially at Lenora. “You two go on. I’ll slip out the back.” He lifted a loose board on the back wall and disappeared into the dark alley between the outer castle wall and stable.

“Don’t worry, Beatrice. He’ll be fine. No one has caught him yet,” Lenora reassured her cousin. “’Tis time now to worry about ourselves. I imagine your mother is not in good temper.”

Lenora’s long legs outdistanced her cousin’s much shorter ones. Beatrice had only crossed half of the inner bailey green when she skipped up the steps and threw open the door to enter the great hall. At the carved lion laver, she washed her hands and inhaled the tempting aromas of the noonday meal. Warm, rich smells of roasting meats and fresh baked breads thickened the air and caused her stomach to rumble.

“She’s a-lookin’ for ye,” warned a servant. He bustled past Lenora on his way to prepare the high table for the noonday meal.

“I know,” she mouthed back.

Beatrice slid in behind her to escape the attention of several hounds. “Go on now.” Lenora waved them off after she patted each massive head. Noses to the floor, the giant beasts sniffed among the new floor rushes searching for scraps. The central fireplace smoldered. Lenora watched the smoky trail rise up the new chimney.

The pantier entered the great hall from the passage leading to the downstairs pantry. His arms filled with crocks of wine, he was followed by her father’s steward, Sir Hywel.

The steward looked up and smiled at the two girls. She saw his smile fade and he ducked down a passage leading to the buttery.

“Lenora, where have you been?” a familiar voice shrieked from behind her.

She turned to see her aunt striding toward her. Biting her lower lip, Lenora arranged an innocent look on her face. “Have you been looking for me?”

“Come here, Beatrice.” Matilda’s jet black eyes darted from one girl to the other. Although petite in size, she propelled her two captives toward a less active area of the great hall. With a firm push, she sat Lenora at one end of a massive carved pew and her daughter at the other. Her eyes traveled up and down her niece’s stained clothing and tangled hair.

Her teeth close together, Matilda launched into a lecture. “I must speak to you about this ridiculous notion that you are not attending the king’s tourney. Such behavior would not be tolerated at King Stephen’s court.” The dignified voice became more elitist. “When I was at court, a woman knew her place. She obeyed her elders without question.”