Part 2 (1/2)
”Every month,” he added hastily.
”That is fair.”
Again he examined her. He hadn't previously thought her a fool, but he should have known. All women were fools-but so were men who imagined they could collect such wages on the strength of a vanished reputation.
”One month in advance.”
Opening her purse, she counted out the gold and held it before his eyes. ”Is this sufficient guarantee of my good intentions?”
But if she didn't know, why should he tell her? She dressed well, she treated him as if he were a worm, she had guards who eyed her protectively...aye, she was wealthy, so what was the harm in shearing just a little of that fleece which cus.h.i.+oned her?
Cautiously, he wrapped his fingers around the money, trapping it and her hand. He felt the delicate flesh and the chill of the gold. He thought how easily he could break her and how much he needed that money.
s.n.a.t.c.hing his hand away, he polished the sensations from his palm as if that would polish away any deception. ”I'm not the man you want.” He started for the door just as Sybil arriving holding steaming bowls, and he took a particular pleasure in brus.h.i.+ng past her.
”Hey!” Sybil squawked. ”Come back 'ere. M'lady, I require payment.”
”Pay her, Gunnewate,” the lady commanded from behind him, and one of her men-at-arms reached for his purse as the other stretched out an arm and blocked the exit.
David stopped and contemplated the arm, then the ma.s.sive fellow to whom it belonged. ”Move, or I'll move you.”
The man-at-arms didn't stir. David threatened him with a straight and evil stare. The man stared back, jutting his chin. David placed his hand on the hilt of his knife. The man drew his blade. David stepped back to make room for the fight.
Then the lady said, ”Let him go, Ivo.”
Without a sign of regret or relief, without hurry or distress, Ivo brought his beefy arm back to his side and left the way open for David to leave.
David couldn't believe it. The big oaf submitted, not under the menace of David's blade, but under the threat of a woman's scolding. It wasn't respect for a mercenary legend that made Ivo obey, but a single word from his mistress. Stepping close to him, David measured himself against Ivo's chest. Ivo was taller, broader, younger, in every way David's physical superior. Speaking into his face, David said, ”Arrant coward.”
Ivo flinched under the blast of stale, ale-laden breath, and he sneered. ”Poltroon.” Then he bowed his head and slipped backward along the wall.
Resentment cramped David's gut. He could have used the combat. He needed to take out his hostility on somebody. Instead he marched through the door, prepared to storm off and leave this farce behind.
Instead the sunlight hit him and he staggered. d.a.m.n, it was bright. Bright and unseasonably hot, just as it had been for the last two years. The drought. The d.a.m.ned drought had driven him from his home. Would it never end?
The rays beat into his brain through his eyes, and even when he closed them, the lids proved inadequate protection. Clutching his face, he leaned against the wall and mumbled, ”b.l.o.o.d.y ale.”
”It is not the ale, but your excessive intake that is at fault.” The lady's precise voice ground at his nerves like a grindstone against Toledo steel.
Bravely, he opened his eyes and s.h.i.+elded them from the sunlight with his hands. ”Who are you?”
”I am Alisoun, countess of George's Cross.”
She had appeared fair in the dim light of the inn, but now she positively glowed. White gown, fair skin-and were those freckles that marched across her nose? He squinted. Aye, definitely freckles-in defiance, no doubt, of Lady Alisoun's desire. It cheered him to think something escaped the lady's mandate.
Persistent as David's daughter and almost as fearless, Lady Alisoun asked, ”Are you not Sir David of Radcliffe?”
”I told you I was, and I didn't lie about that. I told you I was no longer the king's champion, and I didn't lie about that either.” He turned away, ashamed, not wanting to see the contempt on her face. ”'Tis the king's champion you wish to hire, my lady, not me.”
”You have truly lost the t.i.tle?” Surprise lifted her voice from the deep richness which had marked it before to a more normal woman's tone. ”When did this occur?”
”This morning.” His stomach roiled as he remembered. ”On the tourney field. The legendary David of Radcliffe fell in defeat.”
She was silent for so long, he looked back at her.
At last she said, ”'Tis tragic that you failed just when I have need of you, but I need a legend, not a one-time hero. I want you.”
In a voice harsh with pain, he said, ”By the saints, woman, don't you see? I'm not the man I once was. Every fledgling knight in Lancaster has challenged me these last days just to brag they fought the greatest mercenary of our times. I defeated every one of them-beardless boys with more bravado than sense. But when I came up against a seasoned knight, I lost.”
She excused him. ”Your other trials exhausted you.”
He paid her no heed. ”I suffered abject, humiliating defeat.”
She caught his hand and opened it, then placed the coins in it and closed his fingers around them. ”Here are your first moon's wages. The innkeeper has been paid as well. Should you decide to accept my employment, I'm at the Crowing c.o.c.k Inn. Be there by dawn.”
”M'lady,” her man Gunnewate remonstrated. ”Ye can't give a scoundrel money like that and think ye'll see him return!”
David glared, wanting to kill him for his insolence, and realized he could see better now. Glancing up at the sky, he saw clouds gathering. Blessed, blessed clouds, here to break the drought.
Lady Alisoun noticed them, too, and demanded her wooden shoes from Ivo. Lumbering like a trained bear, Ivo brought them and went down on one knee to place them over her leather slippers. Answering Gunnewate, Lady Alisoun said, ”He is the legendary David of Radcliffe. He shall not disappoint me.”
Sir David had better not disappoint her. If he did, this whole wretched journey and uncomfortable visit had been in vain, and she would have to return to George's Cross bringing little more than a rainstorm.
Without expression, Alisoun observed King Henry III hold court in the great hall of Lancaster Castle just as he had done every morning since he'd traveled north. Patiently, she waited for her chance to present her pet.i.tion, all the while trying to ignore the presence of Osbern, duke of Framlingford, the king's cousin and her most dreaded enemy.
Osbern didn't make it easy. He watched her with a smirk. Anyone who didn't know them would believe them to be lovers. Certainly Osbern had taken care to represent them as such, and his power and influence were such that her dignified haughtiness only fed the rumors.
After all, she was the widow Alisoun of George's Cross, powerful and influential in her own way. Never mind that Osbern's wife had been her best friend, and that her unexplained disappearance still created gossip. When coupled with Osbern's insinuations and his rather spectacular masculine beauty, Alisoun's extended sojourn as a single woman created speculation and made her long for the safety of home.
Now she could go, for David would fulfill his duty. He had to, for he was the legendary mercenary. He even looked the part. His rangy form and grace proclaimed his strength. The threads of gray in his dark hair proclaimed his experience. Hard heavy brows lent a severity to his expression, and his eyes had seen much. Yet his mouth saved him from the ruthlessness of most mercenaries. He grinned, he grimaced, he pursed his lips in avarice. Every thought that crossed his mind, he expressed with his mouth, and without saying a word.
She liked his mouth.
Seeing that King Henry had finished with the lesser folk, Alisoun stepped forward and curtsied. Not too deeply, for her family's bloodlines were no less ancient and n.o.ble than his, but a modest, respectable curtsy.
Hale at forty-five, with a superficial charm that covered his capricious nature, King Henry responded with a nod. ”Lady Alisoun, how good to see you at our court again. You attend every morning, flattering us with your attention. Have you some instructions to share this day?”
He had a distasteful inclination toward sarcasm, especially with her. She didn't understand or like it, for she knew full well an unhappy monarch could create problems for her and the lands which she held in her custody. So she smiled with constrained charm and said, ”I take my instructions from you, my liege-”
He snorted.
”-And have only a humble request.” He looked her over critically, and she was glad she had worn her best scarlet velvet for this interview. It weighed on her like a knight's armor, keeping her safe with its bulk and brazen beauty.
”What request is that?”
”I wish to retire from your most gracious court and return to my duties at George's Cross. I have been away too long, basking in the sun of your presence.”