Bride for a Knight

To find Mavis in the bed, with the covers up to her chin as if to shield herself from attack.

In spite of his determination to keep his distance, his heart sank. Nevertheless, he would maintain his dignity. He went over to the small table in the corner bearing a cup and pitcher. After pouring himself some water, he downed it in a gulp.

When he turned back, his wife was no longer in the bed. She stood beside it, wearing only a shift, her golden hair loose about her shoulders. She had her arms clasped in front of her and looked like an angel, while his thoughts were far from pure.

But he would resist the lust of his body. He would ignore the desire coursing through him like waters at the flood. He would not remember their wedding night or that afternoon beneath the tree, except for the shame he’d felt afterward. He wasn’t like his father. Or his brothers.

He must remember, too, that only that morning she had been weeping, so her smiles and her willingness to share his bed might only be for show. “Go back to bed, Mavis.”

She nodded and obeyed, but her expression...it was like seeing a flame snuffed out. It took all his resolve to go to the bed, take a pillow and pull off a blanket. “I shall sleep on the floor,” he said, regarding her steadily, watching for a flicker of relief.

Instead, she lifted the covers in a gesture of invitation. “You need not, my lord.”

Every particle of his being urged him to join her, to share her body and her bed, to believe that this exceptional woman wished to be his wife.

And yet he dare not give in, not if he would prove to himself that he was different from his family. “You are weary, my lady, and should rest.”

“So should you, and it need not be on the floor.”

He was not going to admit that she tempted him beyond all reason, or that he’d seen her crying. “I will sleep where I choose, my lady,” he replied.

Without another word, she turned onto her side and faced the wall.

That was for the best, he thought as he made his simple bed, lest she continue to try to persuade him and he prove too weak to resist.

* * *

The next morning, Mavis awoke to the sound of birds singing. The chamber was dim, for the shutters were still closed. It was bright enough to see that she was alone, however, and a pillow and folded blanket were on the end of the bed.

Rising, she sighed with both weariness and dismay. It had been a long, anxious night, half of it spent waiting to see if Roland would join her in the bed.

He did not.

She tried not to feel hurt or disappointed, although he had to realize now that making love wasn’t painful for her. And even if he didn’t want to make love with her, there was no need for him to sleep on the floor.

A soft knock sounded on the door and, after her response, Polly entered with a ewer of steaming water in one hand and linens in the other. “Beg pardon, my lady, but Sir Roland asked me to bring you water and linen to wash. He wants to leave as soon as you’ve dressed and had a bite to eat.”

That was more than he’d said to her. “Thank you.”

Polly set the ewer on the washstand. “Elrod’s still talking about them lumplings, my lady.”

“I’m glad he liked them.”

Polly grinned. “He likes that they’re cheap. I like that they’re easy. Your husband must be some proud of you, my lady.”

“I hope so,” she replied. “I can wash and dress without assistance, Polly. I’m sure you’re needed in the kitchen.”

“As a matter of fact, my lady, I am. Ylda could burn boiling water,” she said with a grateful grin before she bobbed a curtsy and hurried from the room.

Mavis watched her go with a sigh, then washed, combed her hair and put on her traveling gown. She picked up her cloak and made her way to the taproom.

Roland wasn’t there, either. Nor were any of the men. Elrod was, though, beaming at her as if she were the light of his life. “Ah, my lady! Here you are and looking lovelier than ever!”

The man would have done very well at court. “Thank you. Where is my husband?”

“In the yard overseeing your men saddling the horses and getting the ox into the yoke.”

Polly came into the room carrying a tray bearing a bowl, slices of thick bread, a smaller vessel covered with waxed cloth and two mugs. “Don’t stand there boring the poor woman, Elrod! Go out and see if you can help.”

As he started to obey, she set the tray down before Mavis. “Here’s porridge and bread and honey, and mead or ale if you like, my lady. Eat hearty now. It’s warm and the day’s cold, and I hear you’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”

A long, lonely journey, Mavis thought, unless Roland—

“It’s time to leave, my lady,” Roland declared from the door leading to the yard before Elrod reached it.

She rose immediately, as an obedient wife should. “As you wish, my lord.”

“She has to have something to eat, my lord,” Polly protested.

Although Roland nodded his agreement, he didn’t sit down. He stayed standing, his gaze upon her. Mavis quickly ate a slice of bread, sipped some mead, then got to her feet. “I’m ready, my lord.”

He nodded once again before reaching into his belt and pulling out a small leather purse. “For you, innkeeper,” he said, tossing it to Elrod, who deftly caught it. “With our thanks,” he added before he took Mavis’s arm to lead her into the chilly yard where the escort and horses waited.

Walking beside him, Mavis glanced at the sky. She was glad that there were no dark clouds today. She was also aware that the men were watching, and so were Elrod and Polly at the door, so she made sure that she smiled.

“Godspeed, my lord!” Elrod called out.

“God bless you, my lady!” his wife added.

After Roland helped Mavis onto her horse, she waved a farewell, wondering how soon she might travel back this way to visit DeLac or Cwm Bron. Roland, meanwhile, mounted Hephaestus, raised his hand, and once again the cortege started on the journey to Yorkshire.

* * *

This time, when they stopped to water the horses, Roland stayed with the soldiers, although keeping a little apart from them.

Nor was her husband any more inclined to speak to her as they traveled along the road. He was again riding several paces ahead, making it clear he had no wish for conversation.

What was she to make of this, and him? That he did indeed crave only her body? That she had been wrong to think there was more to his longing than lust? That she had only imagined that wistful look in his dark eyes? That she had been completely wrong about him?

Yet if he only lusted after her, surely she would have known it from the first, and especially on their wedding night. And he would be forcing his way into their bed, not sleeping on the floor.

He was a mystery, an enigma she was beginning to fear she might never understand.

One thing was different today, though. He sent Arnhelm and Verdan on ahead. She could think of a few reasons why: that he feared danger (which she truly hoped was not the reason) or to send word to Dunborough that he was on the way home, or to seek a place to stop for the night. She hoped it was the latter, but nevertheless prepared herself for another long day in the saddle. Fortunately, the right answer was indeed the last. They stopped much earlier at an inn, and it appeared the host was waiting for them.

Unfortunately, this inn was not quite so prosperous looking as Elrod’s. The main building was rather small, the yard untidy, the wall missing several stones. The host was a thin, sallow fellow, and none of the servants who came to help with the horses and the wagon seemed any healthier or more robust.

The taproom was dim, for the shutters were open only a little. Nevertheless, she could see that it wasn’t as clean as Elrod’s establishment. At least there was a good fire blazing in the hearth.