Diana Hall - Warrior's Deception

“Steady, Lady Lenora,” Roen whispered in her ear. His breath caused gooseflesh to race down her neck. She closed her eyes to regain her composure. Instead, it fortified the sounds and sensations about her. She heard the pounding of his heart, felt the rise and fall of each breath he took. Suddenly, the sensations stopped. Roen released her as if she were a cocklebur bush. He stepped away from her and moved toward Hamlin. The siege commander took a deep breath and surveyed the room. His eyes settled on her cousin. Lenora knew his thoughts, what size dowry did Beatrice possess and would she act the docile servant of her husband.

“Who is she?” Hamlin did not drag his gaze away from Beatrice. Lenora hesitated. When she did not answer, Hamlin looked over his shoulder, misery evident on his boyish face. “She’s married to someone already, isn’t she. A beauty like that could not remain unclaimed for long.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. His ashen locks swayed with the movement.

“Tell him,” Roen ordered.

Lenora thought fast. If she told them Beatrice was married it might work for a time, but Aunt Matilda would find a way to introduce Beatrice to Roen and eventually her lie would be discovered. The greedy lout might marry her cousin just to get even with her; he was mean enough. The knight had more pride in himself than any man she had ever met. Pride! The answer to her problem unfolded. She could save Beatrice.

Lenora straightened up to her full height and crossed he arms. She looked the knight in the eyes and stated, “That is my cousin, Beatrice de Greyere. She is unmarried, but unavailable.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she is in love with someone.”

Roen stared at her, incredulous. “And why should that deter me? Women are always falling in and out of love. It means nothing as long as she has an acceptable dowry and is obedient to her vows.” He laughed like a satyr and turned to his friend. “Come, we will introduce ourselves to this beauty that has so bewitched you.” Roen pretended to close Hamlin’s gaping mouth and lead him toward Beatrice.

“Very well, then.” Lenora took one more chance, a dangerous one, but calculated to prey on the man’s overbearing pride. “I’ll introduce you, but you do not strike me as the type of man who could make love to his wife knowing she wished he were someone else.”

The sound of his quick intake of breath warned her to brace herself for the storm of his anger. She contemplated running, but where could she go that he could not find her? Roen advanced, his square jaw clenched, neck veins visible. His huge hands were balled up into fists at his sides. Lenora had a momentary vision of those two clubs pummeling the life from her body. She steeled herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were no longer the color of thunderclouds. Now they reminded her of a full-blown gale, one that would wreak havoc for days.

“By God’s Wounds, woman, you go too far,” Roen snarled. “Do you doubt I can command obedience from my wife? I will not tolerate a whore for a wife.”

“I’ve no doubt you would try to command your wife’s very thoughts. You can use those powerful hands to control a body, but not a mind, and never a heart.” Lenora stood firm, anger overruling her fear as usual.

“Sir Roen,” the young page from the stable interrupted. He smiled at Lenora and handed Roen a message. He turned with a smart bow to the lady and started to leave.

“Hold, boy.” Roen’s voice stopped the page in a dead halt. “When you deliver a message, you wait on a reply.” His gaze dropped from Lenora and spotted the insignia of King Henry scrawled across the bottom of the missive. Damn! He would have to attend to the business of royalty before the woman’s punishment. Lenora’s jabs had hit close to home. His father’s attempt to control his mother’s heart with fists and cruel punishments had been to no avail. His mother still had betrayed him and left Roen to suffer the painful taunts of his brothers and the mental and physical blows of his father. How many times had his father told him not to trust the heart of a woman? No woman would ever hurt him again, least of all a mouthy shrew.

“This is not over.” Roen glanced up from the message, but the woman had vanished. There were many dark recesses and support beams in the great hall, too many places that could cast shadows even in daylight. He could not keep Henry waiting. Cursing under his breath, he barked at the page, “Where is the king?” Roen did not wait on a reply but marched ahead. The boy scurried to catch up with the knight’s long strides. Hamlin followed behind, craning his neck to watch Beatrice.

When she saw the two men leave, Lenora stepped out of the shadows, shaking her head in disbelief. What a bore, an unimaginative mass of brutality. No matter what the cost, she would not let this brute have gentle Beatrice. He would have her cowering in some corner at his first angry glare. Lenora picked up the edge of her gown and raced across the hall to her cousin. Beatrice must be warned; they must leave immediately. For Beatrice’s sake and, as she thought of the knight’s fury, her own.

Roen climbed the stairs to the king’s bedchamber and wondered why the need for such privacy. In the close confines of the castle, the king’s chamber was the most secure place. After instructing his second in command to patrol outside the room, he entered and greeted his king.

“Your Majesty.” He approached the red-haired man seated near a table. Henry stood and grasped his extended hand in a bone-crushing handshake. Not as tall as Roen, the king was still an impressive man. His love of hunting and riding kept him trim and washed his freckled face with healthy color. Faint laugh lines creased his mouth and eyes.

“Roen, my dear friend, so how goes the hunt?” The king gave him a wicked grin. Roen knew to which “hunt” the king referred. Henry had followed the same hunt several times. With his wife, Eleanor, living in Aquitaine, the king consoled his loss with several mistresses, the Lady Rosmund in particular. Roen wondered how wise it was of Henry to parade his lovers at court so openly. Queen Eleanor was a shrewd and jealous woman. Henry could not afford an arranged annulment and lose his wife’s overseas holdings.

“I prefer to speak of more pleasant subjects,” Roen answered dryly. There was more on the king’s mind than just teasing him.

Henry crossed to the table and retrieved a letter. “Read this. Tell me what you think.” The king sat down, arms folded across his barrellike chest.

Roen browsed through the letter to the king. The sender stated his opinion on a nearby land dispute. Odd choices of words made the letter somewhat convoluted but the gist could be easily understood. He stroked his chin and looked at the missive again. From the corner of his eye, he spied King Henry watching him for a reaction. There must be something he had missed. He restudied the letter.

“’Tis in code!” A familiar pattern emerged from the confusing phrases. “We used this code during the war with Stephen!”

King Henry nodded and reached for the paper. “It took me some time to discover it. If I did not know the sender so well, I might have missed it. He has purposely mentioned battles where the code was used.”

Roen glanced through the letter again, using the code to glean the true message. “He asks for help to protect his family and his land. A traitor is in his midst.” He turned toward the king. “What will you do?”

“This—” Henry took the letter from his hands “—could simply be a letter on a land case and the code a coincidence. Or a good and loyal friend could be in need. Sir Edmund has aided me countless times. I shan’t abandon him now. That is why I need you to help him. First, because he is a loyal compatriot. Secondly, there are still those who secretly oppose me as king. I cannot afford to let his keep fall into a traitor’s hands.”