Bound to the Warrior Page 6

  The flatness in her voice didn’t match the fire in her eyes. Stunned, Adrien reeled. “Leashed? You are not an animal, Ediva.”

  “You called me a guardian in the chapel, as if I were a sheep dog.”

  He felt his neck heat. “’Twas just a jest because of your desire to protect your people. I meant nothing that the chaplain might have meant.”

  She feigned indifference as she shrugged. “Why should I obey a man who felt I needed to be hurt each night?”

  He led her to a narrow bench, chasing away a pair of children playing on it. When they sat down, he could see the sun sparkling in her tear-filled eyes. His story of pruning the vine now sounded cruel. Why had he even mentioned it?

  And why would the God who had blessed him so much turn His back on Ediva? His heart denied such an accusation, but the pain she’d suffered was clear, and God certainly had not blessed her with Ganute.

  Why would a loving God allow her to suffer so? He shifted away from Ediva, who stared into the distance beyond the open gate, lips parted slightly, her upturned nose something he found himself wanting to kiss.

  Mayhap her chaplain was right. Mayhap she was a temptress and needed a short rein. With her watering eyes and soft, pained words, was she coaxing him from his God? Was that even possible? After all, ’twas not her fault she was so beautiful.

  He grimaced. He had devoted his life to fighting, not wooing women. He knew nothing of them, and his inexperience mocked him.

  She looked down at her hands, then up to him, again with those watery eyes. He felt as though he’d kicked the timid dog that chased the cats for scraps. He should say something, anything.

  Her face aflame, she stood. “I see you agree with the good chaplain. Your words may have been in jest, Adrien, but from the heart does the mouth speak. I see I have no one, not even God to help me.” She lifted her cyrtel to step away.

  Snapping from his selfishness, Adrien leapt to his feet and caught Ediva’s wrist. “I have sanctioned nothing of the sort. My thoughts were not of that.”

  When she yanked her arm back, he let her go. “What were they of, then? You looked at me as if I were something horrible.”

  He scrubbed his face, hating that her intuition had led her to such an assumption. He simply didn’t know women well enough, and aye, he was suddenly afraid that she could so easily tempt him from everything he held dear. “You are not horrible, Ediva.”

  “Ahh, your honeyed words. They do my heart good.”

  He groaned at her sarcasm. He was not made for court, with fancy words and charm enough to choke a person.

  A commotion rose by the gate, and both of them turned. Ediva, though, spun in the other direction where high upon the battlement, a man pointed to the south, past the village of Little Dunmow. He shouted something Adrien couldn’t understand.

  “Soldiers and a wagon are coming,” Ediva translated. “The guard can see the royal standard.” She hurried toward the wall and its narrow stairs to the vantage point. A few feet into her march, she stopped and spun. “Mayhap the foolish king is looking for one of those babes he demanded. An impatient man, indeed!”

  Adrien set his jaw. Her sarcasm scraped on his nerves like a blade on a grindstone. He barked out to Harry to fetch his weapon.

  Thankfully, his sword arrived long before the soldiers. ’Twas the royal standard, but not the king who bore it. Adrien soon recognized his brother, Eudo, trotting merrily up on a horse as black as Adrien’s mood.

  “Prado! I’m happy to see you!”

  Adrien groaned inwardly at the baby name. Eudo, whose name was a derivative of Eudes, had taken a liking to Adrien’s middle name of Prades, giving it a childish spin like his own name. Adrien hated it, but his mother had said it meant rich fields, so he’d tolerated it. Until now.

  “’Tis Adrien, brother, not Prado. Not even Prades, in case you prefer that,” Adrien said, sheathing his sword and catching the horse’s foamy bridle as his younger brother pulled to a stop just inside the gate. Eudo had ridden ahead. The cart and soldiers were still lumbering through the village. “Why the king’s standard? Do you have him hidden in the cart?”

  Eudo swung off his mount and dusted himself off. “Nay, stealing the king away is yours and our brothers’ work, not mine.” Eudo smiled brightly. “I’m just a steward on his majesty’s orders, having been loaned his standard to ease my travels.”

  Remembering the day, years ago, that he and his brothers had saved William’s life, Adrien growled back, “I am proud to have saved the king’s life that day in Falaise. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He patted the horse’s sweaty neck. “What brings you here in such haste? Surely the king’s standard would not ease your passage with rebels hiding in the woods?”

  “When I learned your wardrobe was being dispatched, I decided your honeymoon was over and I wanted to visit you.” He glanced around. “Where is your lovely bride?”

  Coming for just a visit? Adrien didn’t believe that for a moment. This was no social call. Eudo merely enjoyed the element of surprise too much to reveal his true purpose as yet. Adrien pointed to the battlement. “My sweet bride is up there, wondering if she needs to pierce your heart with an arrow to defend her keep. Or is it my heart she wishes to pierce? ’Tis more likely the case, so I suggest you move away from me. I don’t know how well she handles a bow.”

  Eudo’s brows shot up. Ediva was leaning hard on the stone wall, which was lower than the parapet she frequented at the top of the keep. Her hands gripped the merlons, and she bore a harsh expression. Beside him, Adrien could hear Eudo’s indrawn breath. Ediva pivoted and hurried down the stairs and across the bailey to them.

  “My lady, and now my sister,” Eudo bowed to her. “Forgive the unexpected visit. I’m here on the king’s order.”

  Ediva shot Adrien a blackened glare.

  Dread washed over him. All he could think of at that moment was his promise to her that he would decide what went to the king and when.

  Eudo straightened. “Time to pay the taxes to the king.”

  Chapter Six

  Ediva thrust herself forward, only to be blocked by Adrien. She tried to push him away, but his frame refused her.

  “He has come to steal our money, he means!” she spat out.

  “We will always have taxes, my lady,” Adrien growled. “You paid them before without a fuss.”

  “To an English king, not some Norman Duke from across the channel!”

  Adrien shoved his face closer to hers. “Go to your solar, Ediva! I will handle my brother.”

  “This is my keep also, Adrien,” she snapped. “Should I not have a say in what monies are stolen from it?”

  “You knew this day was coming.” Abruptly, he hauled her close, his face a mere breath from hers. She stilled and looked hard into his eyes. But as she was learning, there was no harshness reflected there.

  But that brought no comfort. Aye, she knew this day would come. She knew she’d lost her position as the keep’s full owner. But neither tempered her anger.

  Adrien loosened his hold. “Allow me to handle this, or you risk losing far more coins. I will not allow one mite more than necessary to be taken. But you must not challenge the king’s authority.” He dropped his voice. “Go. And trust me.”

  She stepped back. Did she dare trust him? Rather, did she dare refuse? If King William learned of her defiance, what punishment would be in store for her and her tenants? Perhaps she could trust her husband—with this, for now. She tossed a scathing look at the surprised Eudo before pivoting on her heel and returning to the keep.

  In her solar, she fumed to Margaret, the only available ear, about the king from across the channel.

  “What’s a channel?” Margaret asked.

  Ediva sighed. The young girl had no education save the one she’d learned from he
r mother—to sew and care for her lady, to braid hair and tidy rooms and do her lady’s bidding. She knew nothing of the lands beyond her county.

  Ediva waved her hand. “The waters between England and Normandy. William was born there and ’twas there he says the throne of England was promised him. Now he has stolen our lands and demands the taxes.”

  “If the king is here to take the money, Lord Adrien will surely give it, won’t he?”

  “That’s not the king down there, girl!” Ediva was usually patient with her, but not today. She stopped her pacing, knowing there was no one in this keep with whom she could properly vent. “That man is Eudo, the king’s steward, younger brother to your Lord Adrien.”

  “Then as brothers they will settle this, milady. Blood is thicker than water.”

  “Aye.” Ediva sank into her chair, hating that she could not be downstairs but unwilling to risk trouble. Or did she actually trust Adrien? “They will settle this, but to Dunmow’s benefit?”

  Her maid began to tidy the mess Ediva had caused with her rant. “I have four brothers, and they’re as thick as thieves.” As soon as she spoke, the girl cringed. “’Twas just an expression, milady! Lord Adrien will do what’s right. He’s only seen a few Sabbaths here, but even my father says he’s a good man. He’ll keep us safe.”

  Ediva jumped up. “That’s my task, not his. I should give the taxes to the king.” She brushed down her cyrtel and fixed her veil, even setting her skewed braids back into place, as her ire rose again. “And I will know just how many coins my husband hands over. Every last one.”

  She threw open her door.

  Adrien had set a guard by her door, but the man shrank away when she shot him a deadly look. “I will see my husband, and no one will stop me.”

  The man backed off as she stormed past. She found Adrien and Eudo with several other men, including Geoffrey, in the main hall. They were swarming over the strongbox, while Geoffrey held a quill above the ledger.

  Each man glanced up as she entered. With her back so stiff it hurt, she marched over. “I will know what is planned for the contents of Dunmow’s coffers,” she told Adrien bluntly. “It cannot be construed as an insult to the king for me to know how much is being taken.”

  “His majesty has the right to take as much as he pleases. The keep belongs to him,” Adrien answered.

  “’Tis my home, though, and I have run it well since Ganute’s death. The king can have no complaint, as it is my good management that filled the coffers he now seeks to empty.”

  “The king has no complaint against you, woman,” Eudo announced, folding his arms. “He merely expects you to pay your taxes.”

  After a sharp glance at the coins stacked on the table, she leaned forward to press her knuckles into the battered wood. She eyed Eudo darkly. “But must my people and I be forced into poverty?”

  She could hardly believe her ears. She’d never sounded so defiant, but this was about her keep.

  She could feel her husband’s heavy gaze upon her skin. If necessary, she would justify her words to him later in private. Lifting her chin, she met Eudo’s eyes as regally as she could. “I demand to know how much the king chooses to take. And I deserve to know exactly where ’twill be used.”

  Eudo stiffened. “How the king uses his money is his own business.”

  “How strange then that he needs to send the very brother of his servant here, a man whose duty is only to fill the king’s cup and serve his food. Aye, you may be capable of handling the monies, but I suspect the king sent you because of your good rapport with my husband, and—” she lifted her brows “—because he has also ordered you to build a castle in Colchester, not far away. And so thus, you need the money.”

  Slowly, the steward smiled until a short chuckle escaped from his widening lips, proving to Ediva he was merely testing her, something that irked her further. “I can see why you fear for your life, Pra—Adrien,” he said in a surprisingly merry tone. “I’m thankful she had no bow up on the parapet when I entered. I might not be standing here right now.”

  That remark’s meaning was lost on Ediva, so she ignored it. She spun the record book around as Geoffrey jumped back. The last line had not yet been completed, but a note above it stated that some men and tools were also leaving.

  She gasped, hardly believing what was written. “He will take our men, as well?”

  “Aye,” Adrien answered coolly. “And if you’d stayed in your solar, I would have told you all this.”

  She smacked the table, actually making the two guards jump. “We cannot spare the men! ’Twill soon be time to plant! And with the threat of revolt in Anglia, they will need to be available to defend this keep!”

  “I will leave one soldier for every three men I take,” Eudo promised. “And the tradesmen in the village are hardly farmers, Ediva, so do not tell me of their need to plant.”

  “You know nothing of our ways. All farm here, Lord Eudo—tenants, tradesmen and even the chaplain if they expect to eat next winter,” she snapped. “But one man for three! The number is far too small. Even if you left a soldier for every man you took, do you expect your soldiers will know the work to be done here? Do they know how to farm, or shoe horses or sheer sheep? Those skills are needed here.”

  “The soldiers will defend your keep, and with two-thirds fewer mouths to feed, I would say you’d be glad to see the trade.”

  Immediately, Adrien set his hand upon hers to stop her from smacking the table again. His palm was warm, rough, strong and was successful in stilling any movement that was aimed to insult Eudo. “Ediva, arguing will do no good. Eudo is borrowing some of the men to move rubble, ’tis all.”

  “He can use the king’s soldiers.”

  “The soldiers must stay here. The king considers this keep too important to leave its guard to your men. ’Twill only be for the spring and summer.”

  She could hardly believe her ears. “The work will fall back on the women, and some will give birth soon. Many are still nursing babes!”

  “Have faith.”

  “In what? Faith and an empty cup won’t fill a belly. We need our men.” She turned to Eudo earnestly. “Three to one is an unacceptable ratio. Two men for one soldier.”

  Eudo lost his smile. “I will be taking twenty men and leaving six.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m a foolish maid who doesn’t know her numbers? ’Tis even less than the three to one trade you promised!” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Leave me ten and take eighteen.”

  Eudo glanced at his brother. Adrien remained smugly silent to his brother’s plight.

  With a lifted brow, the steward said, “Hardly a two to one exchange, either. Do you think that I don’t know my numbers? I will leave you seven.”

  “Leave me ten, and I promise you that they will be returned to you fitter and stronger than when you left them.” Ediva lifted the corners of her mouth slightly. “Adrien will ensure they continue their training. A more than fair exchange, sir, to receive back finer soldiers than you left us. You will do the king proud, I can assure you.”

  Eudo leaned across the table. Ediva did the same. They very nearly touched noses. She’d listened to Ganute barter many times for the things he wanted. She knew her numbers well, and more important, she knew the skill of persuasion. When the steward began to frown, she offered him her most charming smile. “I will take very good care of them, sir. ’Twould hardly be in my interest not to do so.”

  Abruptly, Eudo laughed as he straightened. “Ah, the head of an exchequer and the wiles of a siren. You have your hands full here, my brother. Very well, woman, I will leave you ten men.”

  “And two runners, should we need to send for you.” She smiled sweetly. “You’ll want to know if we’re attacked and the king’s holdings are in danger, will you not?”

  Eudo gr
imaced. “Very well. But the two runners will be squires. I won’t leave one more man here.”

  She straightened and shut the record book with a slam, causing Geoffrey to pull back his quill lest it be jammed inside. Adrien chuckled and shook his head.

  But Ediva saw no humor in the situation. “There is nothing funny here, my lord.” She thrust the record book at Geoffrey. “Lock it and the coffers before we lose it all. We must see about feeding these men as I have promised, so I want a full inventory of the foodstuffs.”

  With a deep bow, Geoffrey took the book and the box and exited. She lifted her chin. “Excuse me, my lords, whilst I see to the noon meal.”

  She lifted the hem of her cyrtel and left the brothers alone, hoping desperately that there were enough provisions to fulfill the bargain she’d just negotiated.

  * * *

  Adrien watched her leave. For all that had just happened, he could only think of one thing. They were terribly mismatched. His wife was a clever woman, wedding a sharp mind and a fierce determination to protect her people to astonishing ends. She had actually outmaneuvered his brother—a feat of which few could boast. He had little experience in such negotiations himself but knew for a certainty that he could not have handled them as well. Did she think him a fool, fit only for following orders?

  Lord in Heaven, help me understand her.

  Eudo slapped his shoulder. “Prado, I have never seen a woman negotiate so well. I’m at a loss to speak.”

  “Ha! If I could only be so fortunate to see you so stricken. And the name is Adrien. Remember that.”

  Laughing, Eudo answered, “Come, we need to unload your things and see about the men I will choose. And I’m hungry. Surely by the time we’ve done our tasks, that magnificent wife of yours will have some fine fare for us.”