Bound to the Warrior (Love Inspired Historical) Read online

  Adrien frowned as he pulled up his chair and sat in it. Who had closed the box? Geoffrey had. And after Adrien locked it, what had happened? Adrien could not recall hearing the jangle of coins in it when it was set down, for his mind was elsewhere. And looking disapproving, Geoffrey had finished the entry and closed and locked the ledger. Disapproving that Eudo had taken it all?

  Hating that he’d been so easily distracted by his wife, Adrien couldn’t remember exactly how many coins were on the table, either, only that his brother had scooped them up.

  Eudo had been doing what during that time? Admiring Ediva?

  He refused to speculate. Eudo would never cross that line.

  Adrien grimaced. But Eudo had provoked him with the idea that Ediva could have belonged to him. Could he have taken all of the money to teach them a lesson? Or to provoke his brother, as he was wont to do? Ediva had claimed she would return the men stronger and healthier than before. Did Eudo deliberately take away her means to do so?

  He looked up at her, keeping his expression guarded and his mouth a thin line.

  “And now,” Ediva finished with folded arms, “all I have to feed us is this pittance from one of the tenants. You know the crops aren’t ready yet, and I must purchase other foodstuffs. More so now, as your soldiers eat like horses.”

  Adrien shut the record book. He would confirm this with his brother later. His mind was too distracted now to remember all the details of what had occurred the day Eudo had collected the taxes. Indeed, his mind was so full of the sight of Ediva after the long weeks away from her that he could barely think at all.

  After their talk on the parapet, he’d wondered if he should stay away from Ediva permanently. However, a month in Colchester had taught him that, regardless of their vast differences, he much preferred his wife’s company to that of his brother’s. Indeed, he preferred his wife’s company to that of anyone else he could bring to mind. And that was why he needed to ease her immediate fears as quickly as he could.

  “While you tended to the smithy’s wife, some of the men returned,” he said tersely. “We brought with us foodstuffs and several barrels of ale and cider. If Eudo took all the money, he did it knowing that he’d need to send provisions back for his men. Which is what he did.”

  Ediva blinked at him. “You brought food? Meat?”

  “Aye. Plus a dozen geese, sacks of grains and flour and a fresh deer, taken down this morning.”

  He watched relief wash over her face. In the month he’d been gone, she’d worked hard. The faintest of violet circles arced under her eyes showed as much, and she’d lost some weight. Her cyrtel, the pale gold one she’d worn that day in King William’s hall, fit her less snugly, he noticed. ’Twas good he had returned now, instead of later in the summer.

  “I ordered supper.” He found himself anxious to see her sit beside him for a decent meal. “Join me.”

  “I’m too busy—”

  He stood. “Nay, not for your husband. When was the last time you sat for a meal?”

  She looked away. “I broke my fast this morning, as always.”

  “Cold broth was not meant to last a person all day.” He walked around the table and took her arm. But when they reached for the door, he stopped and turned her to face him.

  “I’m glad to be home, Ediva,” he said softly, taking in her own cautious glance up to his face. His month in Colchester had felt more like a year. The rubble that had been some Roman temple centuries ago was more of a mess than expected, and more had been scavenged over the many years for building materials. The work was taking longer than expected and the men were anxious to return to their families.

  She asked, “Who did you bring home with you? I saw no one while you’d pinned Olin to the wall.”

  “I’d ridden ahead, and while you were with the young wife, three tenants, two of my men plus our provisions arrived.”

  “Why just three?”

  “They were older, and one has hurt himself. Not seriously, but I told Eudo they needed to return. I needed to return also, and ’twas best for us to travel together. The forest can be dangerous.”

  Something flared in her eyes briefly, then fluttered away when she blinked. What was it? Fear? Shock? ’Twas gone too quickly for him to decide. “Then we’re still in the same situation, aren’t we? I thank you for the food, but now there are six more mouths to feed, so I had best see to the meal.”

  She tried to slip away, but he caught her elbow. “Nay, you may inspect the provisions after our meal. I have stared at my brother for a month and not at my comely wife. You far outdo Eudo’s plain face, which I may add has healed from when I’d shoved him down.”

  The look on her face had him adding, “And yes, I apologized for my brutish behavior. ’Tis one thing to act that way whilst camping before battle but another to do so in my own keep. Now, we will eat, and after, you may retire to your larder whilst I deal with Olin.”

  “Olin!” She looked as if she’d forgotten him. “Is he in the cellar with all that good cider?”

  “Your cider and your ale are now stored in your larder.” He paused. “I was surprised you had no jail down there.”

  “There hasn’t been a need for one. Anyone who has broken the law has been punished immediately and sent home. Often it meant a fine, that’s all.”

  “Then Olin will christen the new jail, such as it is. And I will see a part of the cellar made into a permanent one.”

  He led her from his room, releasing her only to lock the door. The smells of cooking greens and fresh bread filled the hall as they entered. He could also smell what he hoped was part of the foodstuffs he brought, such as a fine goose breast grilling in the hearth. “I brought honey also. I hope the cook will create some sweet pastries for us.”

  Ediva entwined her fingers, her attention on the corridor to the kitchen. “She’s well-known for her fine desserts. But the beekeeper had a poor crop last year. ’Twas too wet for most flowers, and the winter before had been harsh and killed many bees. We keep the honey for medicine only.”

  “This spring has been good. There’ll be more this fall.” Adrien led her to a pair of chairs inside the hall and held one for her to sit. A maid brought them a bowl to wash their hands, then a long bread trencher to share, something he had not yet done with Ediva. He looked forward to the meal more so now.

  He watched her finger the bread, wondering if honey would be the only sweetness he’d find this coming fall.

  * * *

  Fresh bread and cooked greens with thick slices of a large goose breast. Goose! She’d not had such fine fare since Ganute’s last meal here, where he’d ordered all the best the keep could offer before leaving for Hastings. Ediva’s mouth watered at the sights and scents swirling around her.

  “I ordered the cook to take one of the birds and prepare it immediately,” Adrien said. “Enjoy.”

  He offered the empty mug for the maid to fill with fresh juice. Ediva sliced the cheese that had been laid before them. Her stomach fairly ached with the anticipation of being filled. Furtively, she wet her lips. When Adrien handed her the mug, she took it, not inclined to pull away as his fingertips brushed past hers. How odd that she should not feel any aversion to the delicate touch. Indeed, the slightest brush of his fingers stirred her heart.

  The drink was cool and tangy, not at all like the watered ale she’d been serving the soldiers. She set the mug down when her thirst was quenched.

  “How is the smithy’s wife?” Adrien asked as they began to eat.

  “Well, my maid and I repaired her gown and calmed her children. I had some food and milk brought to her.”

  Adrien nodded. “Good. I fear that if you’d come a moment later, I would have killed Olin.”

  “Was he really trying to...”

  “Aye. I saw it with my own eyes. She was struggling to get away.”

  Her appetite gone, Ediva sat back. Adrien probably had not met Wynnth before but had seen enough to know that Wynnth’s life was at risk, no
t to mention her honor. He’d acted on his own good sense of right and wrong.

  She felt a frown crease her forehead. Adrien made no sense. He’d shown loyalty to her people but had allowed the coffers to be emptied and the men removed. Did she really believe he’d not known about all the money being taken? Aye. He was as surprised as she’d been. But that did not help the keep.

  “Olin needs to be punished.”

  Ediva pulled her thoughts back to the conversation. Now Adrien was ready to see her cousin-in-law held accountable for the crime of accosting a woman. A rare man, indeed, to believe such a thing was a crime worthy of heavy punishment.

  Stealing a swift look at him, she added, “Be careful of Olin.”

  He lifted his brows. “Why? Is he someone of import?”

  “Nay. He’s only Ganute’s distant cousin, but I do not trust him one jot.”

  “Tell me what he’s like. Had you seen him often after Ganute died?”

  “He had arrived with Geoffrey and Ganute’s body, though I was not told how he learned of the death. He stayed for the funeral and then went to London, only to return before Christmas. By then, he’d decided to set himself up as lord here.” She could hear the spite in her own voice and tried to swallow it down with another sip of juice.

  “He was unsuccessful, I see.”

  “He had no rights to my estate. He’s only a second cousin.”

  “Geoffrey told me that there are no immediate male heirs on either side of the family. So this estate should have gone to Olin.”

  “’Tis a Norman law, Adrien, not a Saxon one. I had rights as the widow.” She let out a small laugh. “Olin said he had the authority to claim Dunmow Keep by order of the king, but I knew differently.”

  “How would you know?” He took a piece of meat. Beside him, she inhaled the rich scent.

  “Because he came with no writ. I asked him for one, and he said that King William was busy and would be sending one on later.”

  “How do you know all this? Even educated Saxon men could not know Norman law.”

  “Remember I said my mother brought a man from Normandy to teach us French and Latin because she’d hoped for good marriages for her daughters? Our tutor taught us Norman laws, too, though ’twas not of interest to us. Our heads were filled with fun and love and future babes. Still, we learned and learned well.”

  She picked at her meat. “Olin is crafty, but I know him. King William is Norman and prefers the feudal system. I was certain he would not allow this keep to be held by a Saxon lord—certainly not one such as Olin. Though he has allowed several influential Saxon families to remain in their castles and keep their titles, it was at a considerable cost. Olin is a spendthrift. He has no money.”

  “You could have negotiated such an agreement. You had enough coinage.”

  “I had no foreknowledge, and the king ordered me to London before I could assemble an offer. But even I could see that he’d want only his most trusted barons in places like Dunmow Keep. ’Tis a well-placed estate. And Ganute ensured a record of it remained in London when King Edward was alive.”

  “’Twas still a gamble, Ediva. Olin could have come into money.”

  She set down her knife. “My gamble surprises you? Did I not gamble to keep more men here?”

  “And you’ve done well.”

  His tone had softened, and she felt her heart hitch disgracefully. She took a moment to nibble her meat to hide her fool reaction and then, setting down her knife, said, “What punishment do you intend for Olin?”

  He chose a thick slice of bread. “I haven’t decided. I can have him tried and my word as witness will bear much weight.”

  “He’ll be issued only a fine and pay Wynnth a portion of it.”

  “He wasn’t successful in his attack on her.”

  “Nay, but the fine will be split just the same. My only fear now is that he has no money, and Wynnth will be left with only her shame.”

  Adrien looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll see him whipped and fined.”

  She gasped. “Neither your law nor mine requires that.”

  “Nay, but ’tis wrong what he did. He had no right to that woman, nor to anything at the keep.” He paused. “Aren’t you curious as to why he’s here?”

  No, she didn’t care. With Adrien here, her position as Lady of Dunmow remained secure. Olin could be tossed out of the village at the drop of her kerchief. But she reminded herself not to be too certain that Olin could do no harm. She knew him to be crafty and ambitious—for all that her position seemed secure, she had no way of knowing what steps he had taken to undermine it.

  She finally said, “He’s spent a lot of time in London. He can turn his allegiances quickly, and ’tis possible he may have acquired some Norman friends. Hence my warning to be careful.”

  Adrien studied her for a moment. “I will. Enough talk of Olin. He’ll ruin our appetites.” He ripped some bread and plucked a piece of cheese from the platter before them. She did the same, allowing her attention to wander about the hall. With very little formality, others had entered. Many of the soldiers were surprised to see Adrien here. He’d acknowledged them with only a short nod.

  No one had told them of a special meal and all the pomp and order that went with one, so despite the fine food, the atmosphere was relaxed. Frankly, Ediva was glad. She’d had her fill of such nonsense. Along with Ganute’s overconsumption of ales, the ceremonies of a formal supper had a hollow feel. Ediva preferred to simply eat the meal and be done with it.

  Finally, Adrien spoke again. “The man will get what he deserves and more. And he will compensate Wynnth, too. I have sent word to Colchester to her man about what has happened and ordered him back. She needs him more than Eudo does.”

  The words filled her with warmth, but the sensation faded quickly. Adrien was protecting his tenants, but his true allegiance would be to the king. He’d been bothered by the lack of coins in the strongbox, but not overly, she thought. He’d simply handed the funds over without as much as a batted eye.

  All her hard work, all her rights as widow and Dowager Lady of Dunmow, all now drifted down the river that fed the nearby Colne. Tears sprang foolishly into her eyes, and she blinked them back.

  “There’s word from the north that they plan to march south to fight King William,” he said softly, unaware of the turmoil within her.

  Her head shot up. “When? How do you know this?”

  “The king sent spies north, who returned through Colchester. Eudo may have to put his plans for a castle aside and meet the rebels at Ely.”

  “Ely!” She’d been diligent in her studies of maps and knew well the land there. “’Tis an island surrounded by fens. Hardly worth a battle.”

  “But good for rebels to secure, is it not?”

  She bit her lip. She knew nothing of battles, save the ones within her keep. Still, this talk concerned her. “Will you also fight?”

  He straightened. “I live only to fight for my king.”

  A cold draft shivered through her, and she wished she had her outer cloak to wrap around her. Adrien’s words should hardly be a surprise. He was a soldier, a knight now made baron who’d not taken a wife before. Of course he lived to fight.

  And he would die for his king, too. For all his kindness, his promises of justice, all the confusing sides to him, she knew he was just a soldier at heart. A man who would fight for William, pray to the Lord with a faith she could only imagine and be willing to die for both.

  And what would King William do then? Would he be so kind in his gift of a husband the next time?

  Nay, he wouldn’t. She’d heard of Norman ruthlessness, and the next man William would choose for her may make Ganute look as tame as a newborn kitten.

  Horror washed like ice through her. She was being selfish. Here Adrien was speaking of dying for his king, and she was concerned only for herself.

  Should Adrien die...

  Her throat tightened and her eyes watered. She didn’t
want him to die. ’Twas a simple fact that she could not deny.

  “Do you really think another battle will come?” she whispered, barely trusting her voice.

  He stared down at his food as his mouth tightened. “’Tis inevitable. East Anglia is fighting King William to the bitter end and he will not tolerate it at all.” He covered her cold hand with his warm, rough palm. “I will do my duty. I was never meant to be a baron of a fine English keep anyway.”

  She found her breath stalled within her as he finished, “Will you return my body to my home in Normandy should I die in battle?”

  Ediva gasped. She’d not considered anything such as a war or death. Not for him. “Don’t speak of that, Adrien.”

  “I’m a soldier. It should be discussed.”

  She busied herself with her food. “Consider it discussed. Let’s not speak of it anymore.”

  Chapter Nine

  Two days later, Adrien frowned to himself. He’d not seen Ediva since yesterday morning. Her maid said she’d gone to help the midwife birth another babe for Harry’s older sister who was delivering early. Such was the busy life of a lady of a keep. She’d had some tiny clothes sewn and, with a gift of a polished rattle, she’d left early. The birth must have become difficult for her to be away from home still.

  Adrien had spent yesterday prosecuting Olin, and with the few landowners remaining sitting as jurors, they found him guilty.

  Now, just after sunrise, as he led Olin outside, he looked up to the parapet. It was as empty as he felt at that moment. And as grey as the cloudy day outside.

  Olin called over his shoulder as he was led away, “Beware, Lord Adrien. You think you rule here, but this is my keep! Fight, people,” he yelled to those around him. “Fight for your proper lord! Fight for me!”

  Adrien ordered another five lashes for the man’s attempt to incite a riot. ’Twas dangerous to inflame the people. They were but poor serfs who did not understand Norman law as well as his clever wife and might be misled by Olin’s foolish talk. Should William learn of this man’s provocation, there would be unnecessary bloodshed. As distasteful as it was, to whip one man would be better than to take many lives.