CHAPTER ONE
May, 1332 A.D.
Carlisle, England
“Gazing at people, some hand in hand,
Just what I’m going through, they cannot understand.
Some try to tell me in thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be… you will be in the end.”
~ 13th Century Minstrel Lyrics
*
“Nay!” The young woman screamed. “Let her go!”
It was the middle of a busy marketplace in the middle of the day, with hundreds of people bustling to and fro. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and clouds darted across the sky in the brisk breeze. But in the middle of the busy avenue, no one seemed to be paying attention to the young woman in a panic.
She was pulling on the tunic of a rather burly man with one eye who had a young girl in his arms. The young girl was screaming and kicking as the young woman fought him for all she was worth.
“Let her go!” she demanded again, hitting him on the arm and trying to grab at the girl in his arms. “Put her down, do you hear me? Put her down!”
The man tried to ignore her. He was drooling, his clothing torn and stained. He had grabbed the young girl from the back of the wagon she had been sitting in and now he was trying to make off with her but her sister had other ideas. He was moving away from the wagon with his quarry squirming in his arms as the sister beat on him.
“Nay!” The sister screamed again, realizing the man wasn’t about to release his prey so she grabbed hold of her sister’s arms and dug her heels into the mud, trying to pull her sister free. “Release her, you animal! Father, help me!”
The young woman knew she needed assistance. The brute that was trying to make off with her sister was big and strong. The young woman was in a panic, struggling to keep her head. Her father and sister were down the street with the spice merchant, running errands for their mother, and she had been left with the wagon and her younger sister. The young woman had been admiring a dress merchant across the busy avenue when she heard her younger sister scream. A man had grabbed her. And the fight began.
Her young sister was crying hysterically, grabbing on to the young woman’s arms by digging her nails into the flesh as she fought against her abductor. But the young woman saw that she wasn’t making any headway against the man, determined as he was, so she kicked him in the knees. It was a hard kick. When he faltered, she grabbed his dirty, vermin-filled hair and yanked as hard as she could.
The man roared and tried to hit her. As he released one arm around the young girl, she slipped and ended up hanging almost upside down. The older sister, down on one knee to avoid the strike from the brute, grabbed her hanging sister with both hands and pulled as hard as she could. Her sister slipped free and landed in the mud.
But the brute wasn’t giving up so easily. He grabbed the young girl by the legs and pulled, drawing more screams from both women. People were noticing now, seeing the brutal struggle and wondering what it was all about.
Down the avenue in the midst of the bustle stood a smithy shop; they had heard the screaming, too, and a dark head poked out from the enormous shop that was blazing with fires and hammering anvils. Steam and heat rose through the thatched roof.
Mathias had heard the screaming but all he could see was people. Being that it was a very busy day in spring when farmers brought their spring harvest into town, there were more people than usual. Horses, wagons, women, children, and a few knights who had arrived for next week’s local tournament… they were all here. Moreover, it was a bright day with good weather, but that would change as the sun grew warmer and the smell from the sewers began to fill the air. The flies would be bad, too. Not seeing the source of the screams, he was about to turn back to his business when the cries of panic caught his attention again. Then, he saw it.
A big bear of a man had the legs of a girl in his grip, but an older girl had her arms and they were tugging her apart. Both girls were screaming and the older one was calling for help. No one seemed to be coming to her aid and Mathias thought it was a family squabble until the man let go of one of the legs he held firm and punched the young woman who had hold of the girl’s arms. The blow to the shoulder sent the young woman reeling.
But she was tough. The woman was stunned but she didn’t lose her grip. She continued to hold, shaking the bells out of her head before resuming her death grip on the young girl and screaming once again for help. Meanwhile, Justus, pausing in shoeing a horse, noticed where Mathias’ attention was. He could hear the girl screaming, too, but it was none of his business. Besides, he’d been banned from that kind of thing. There was no more chivalry left in his veins. That had died along with his permission to bear a sword.
“Mathias,” he called quietly. “Lad, do not….”
It was too late. Mathias was already tossing off his leather apron and moving towards the struggle. Sebastian, pounding out a chorus of sparks on a piece of steel destined to be a sword for a local baron, saw his brother heading towards the struggle and thought he wanted a piece of it, too. Unlike his father, he missed the thrill of a fight and the exhilaration of a kill. Mathias, on the other hand, never spoke about it one way or the other, but Sebastian knew that his brother’s sense of chivalry certainly wasn’t dead. He just kept it buried.
As Mathias approached the fight, he could see that the young girl in contention between the young woman and the beefy man had been twisted around so violently that she had vomited. She had it in her hair. The young woman who had hold of the girl’s arms was losing her fight. Defeat was written all over her face. The man was winning simply because he was much stronger and the young woman was trying not to collapse because of it. She was holding on until the bloody end. It was a puzzling and violent scuffle and as it raged, Mathias walked to within a few feet of the fracas.
“What goes on here?” he asked evenly. “Why do you hurt these women?”
The brawling came to a startled halt and the woman with the weakening grip on the girl turned to Mathias with wide and terrified eyes.
“He is trying to abduct my sister,” she gushed, her voice trembling. “Please help me.”
Mathias cocked an eyebrow, looking at the hairy and filthy man. “Is this true?”
The man bared his teeth at him and roared. That was as much of an answer as he could give. Then he gave one hard yank and pulled the girl free of the young woman’s grasp. He turned to run away with his prize but Mathias moved quickly.
Reaching out, he threw his arm across the man’s neck and jerked him back so hard that the young girl tumbled out of his arms. As the brute fell to the ground, it was enough of a break for the young woman to grab the child and pull her to safety. Meanwhile, the fight had now moved from the scruffy man against two small women to the scruffy man against an extremely formidable opponent.
Mathias was more than ready to go to battle against the filthy man who seemed to be covered in lice and sores. Upon closer inspection, it was a fairly disgusting sight. But he made no move against the man, instead, waiting for him to throw the first punch. Poised, fists balled, Mathias stared down his opponent, waiting. As he stood there, primed and ready, a flash of red hair moved past him and Sebastian charged the dirty man, getting his kicks by grabbing him by the face and throwing him to the ground.
“Bastard!” Sebastian spat, kicking the man in the ribs. “Do you go around taking your fists to women, then? You should be taught a lesson.”
Mathias reached out and grabbed his ruffian brother by the arm. “Wait,” he told him, pulling him back. His focus was on the brute, now wallowing in the mud. “Were you trying to abduct that girl? Answer me or I shall turn my brother loose on you. It is better now to speak than suffer his wrath, I assure you. Answer me.”
The brute, now covered in mud, only grunted as he rolled to his knees and attempted to crawl away. Mathias and Sebastian looked at each other, shrugged, and Sebastian went after the man as Mathias turned to the two terrified women. As Mathias approached the pair, Sebastian leapt on the man’s back as he dragged himself through the mud and began to ride him as one would a wild horse. He grabbed the man by the hair and rode him right into the muck, laughing all the way.
Mathias heard his brother but he didn’t pay any attention. He was looking at the two panic-stricken women in front of him.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked the older woman. “I saw him strike you.”
The older of the pair, a young woman of exquisite beauty, gazed up at him with an amalgam of fear and gratitude. It was difficult to decipher her expression. Mathias, in fact, didn’t try. All he could see was beautiful brown hair, rich with a hint of red to it, and enormous brown eyes. Her skin was pale, like fresh cream, and her features were petite and pixyish. He was momentarily taken aback by all of her beauty, none of which he had noticed until that moment. Now, he felt as if he’d been slapped in the face with it.
“He did not hurt me,” she replied, her voice quaking.
“The younger girl, then. Is she well?”
The young woman looked at the sobbing child in her arms. “I… I believe she is well,” she said. “I do not think he hurt her overly.”
Satisfied with the answer, Mathias looked around. “Is there someone here for you?” he asked. “Surely you are not alone.”
The young woman shook her head. “My father and older sister are in town,” she replied. “They are on errands for my mother. My youngest sister and I were sitting in our wagon – that is our wagon over there – when that man suddenly grabbed my baby sister and tried to run away. My lord, I can never thank you enough for coming to our aid. No one else seemed to be willing to help but you and… dear God, I cannot possibly thank you enough.”
Mathias was fairly swept up in her sweet voice and doe-like eyes. He found himself clearing his throat nervously.
“I am glad I could be of assistance, my lady,” he said.
The young woman peered around him to get a look at the big red-haired man as he jumped up and down on the brute. “What will you do to him?”
Mathias turned in time to see his brother roll his burly quarry over onto his back and leap on his stomach. “I am not sure,” he said casually. “I will leave the punishment to my brother because he seems to enjoy it so much.”
There was a touch of humor in what could have been a deadly serious statement. It helped alleviate some of the abject terror the women were still feeling. In fact, the tension seemed to have lifted a great deal now that the young girl was safe and the culprit being taken away. There was no longer any reason for him to remain.
With a polite nod, Mathias turned away because he was unsure what more to say to her and furthermore found himself just the slightest bit giddy. In fact, he was fairly unbalanced but a word from her stopped him.
“My lord,” she called. “I do not even know your name.”
Mathias came to a halt, turning to face her. He thought perhaps she was more beautiful at second glance.
“Mathias,” he said after a moment.
The young woman smiled and Mathias heard himself sigh with satisfaction. Even her teeth were beautiful. In fact, everything about her was beautiful and he was quickly succumbing to her very presence. With a mere glance or soft words, she was a siren luring him to his doom.
“Mathias,” she repeated softly. “I am the Lady Cathlina de Lara and this is my sister, the Lady Abechail.”
Mathias felt as if he had been struck, lifting the delirium of giddy fog he had been feeling. De Lara, he thought. He knew that name all too well. He tried not to linger on the name, that powerful and consequential name, as his attention shifted to the slender girl in Cathlina’s arms, plastered up against her sister.
The child was dark-haired, pale, and very frail looking. When she saw that Mathias was looking at her, she buried her face in her sister’s torso.
“Greetings, my lady,” Mathias said to Abechail, somewhat gently. She looked as if a louder tone would cause her to shatter. “I sincerely pray you were not injured in the struggle.”
Abechail was pressed as close to her sister as she could go. When Mathias spoke to her, she closed her eyes tightly and tried to block him out but her sister shook her gently.
“Abbie?” she said softly. “Will you thank this man for helping you?”
Abechail turned slightly, peeping an eye open from the safe haven of her sister’s embrace. Instead of her sister’s doe-eyed gaze, she had blue eyes that were red-rimmed and frightened. She had tears all over her face and remnants of dried vomit on her neck.
“My… my thanks,” she stammered.
Mathias cracked a smile. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”
Abechail’s gaze lingered on him a moment before smiling timidly. She still looked horribly pale and terrified, however, and it occurred to Mathias that until the brute was properly restrained or imprisoned, the poor young girl might never feel safe. In fact, neither lady would feel completely safe. He turned to his brother.
“Sebastian,” he said. “Take that animal over to our stall. There are some old stocks back behind it. Put him there.”
Sebastian’s ruddy face lit up. “The old binders?” he repeated gleefully. “One of them is broken, I think. I believe that is why they no longer use it.”
“Then chain him to it,” Mathias said. “That fool will not be free to roam as long as these ladies are in town. See to it.”
With a smile on his face, Sebastian picked the muddy, lice-ridden brute up by the neck and dragged the man across the avenue towards the smithy shop down the way. People were dodging to get out of his way as he hauled the man behind him, singing a song very loudly about bearded women and knights with no libido. It was a song better suited for a tavern but Sebastian didn’t care. He was happier than he had been in a long while, beating up on someone.
Mathias watched him go, fighting off a grin when he saw his father stick his head out of their smithy stall at the sound of Sebastian’s voice. The shock registering on the man’s face was priceless. Justus was, physically, the toughest man in England but he had a habit of showing his thoughts plainly on his face. That could make him rather vulnerable, but it also made him very humorous. Mathias had to turn away before his father saw him grinning. His expression was straight by the time he turned back to the women.
“He will no longer be a threat, I promise,” he said, his gaze moving over Cathlina’s features but trying not to be obvious about it. “Mayhap I should wait with you until your father returns to ensure your safety.”
Cathlina shook her head. “I am sure that will not be necessary, my lord. You have already done so much for us. I do not wish to keep you from your duties.”
Mathias essentially ignored her. He gestured in the direction of the wagon, a few dozen feet away. “Allow me to escort you to your wagon.”
Cathlina eyed the man who was not only their savior but now determined to play their escort. He was enormously built and several inches over six feet with shaggy dark hair that had a bit of curl to it. His features were even, very handsome, and his square jaw was set with determination. But it was his eyes, rather large orbs of dark green that conveyed… something. She wasn’t quite sure what she saw within the guarded green sea, but there was something there lingering just below the surface. She sensed great mystery in the searingly masculine depths.
“You are too kind, my lord,” she said, pulling her clinging sister with her. “We owe you a great deal of thanks for the regard you have shown us.”
Mathias herded the pair across the busy avenue, stopping short of touching her in any way, as a polite escort would have. A proper attendant would have taken the lady’s elbow to show both protectiveness and guidance, but given the circumstances of their meeting, Mathias didn’t think they would have taken any manner of physical contact too kindly. Therefore, he basically shepherded them to the wagon and watched Cathlina, who was hardly larger than a child herself, lift her sister up into the wagon bed.
Abechail crawled up underneath the bench seat and rolled up in a dusty oil cloth that was there. It was evident that she wanted to hide away from what had just happened. Cathlina watched her sister as the girl pulled the blanket over her head. She shook her head sadly.
“She was so excited to come to town,” she said with quiet sorrow. “More excited than the rest of us. After this happening, she will never want to leave home again.”
Mathias folded his big arms across his chest, his gaze moving from the swaddle-bound child on the wagon to the exquisite creature standing next to him. He wasn’t one for idle chatter. In fact, he kept to himself most of the time. He was rather quiet and introspective. But something about that lovely face made him want to engage in conversation. He hadn’t done that with a woman in years.
“Did you come far?” he asked politely.
Cathlina shook her head. “Not really,” she replied as she looked up at him. “We live at Kirklinton Castle. Have you heard of it?”
Mathias nodded. “It is a well-regarded fortress,” he replied. “It is to the north if I recall correctly.”
Cathlina nodded. “It is,” she confirmed. “It belongs to the Earl of Carlisle. My father, who is the earl’s cousin on his father’s side, was appointed the garrison commander last year. Before that, we lived in a small tower near the Roman wall further north. In fact, our home was a Roman castle hundreds of years ago and before I was born, my mother was told about a local legend that bespoke of a Roman commander and his Saxon love, the Lady Cathlina Lavinia. My mother named me for the Saxon lady of legend. She thought it would bring me good fortune.”
So… she is de Lara’s cousin, he thought. He was wondering how, precisely, she was related to the great Tate de Lara and now he knew. It was a sad thought, indeed, but something he wouldn’t waste the energy to dwell on. He’d never had a real romantic interest in his life and realized he wasn’t in danger of having one now, not with the knowledge that she was a de Lara. It was too bad, too, but he pushed the disappointment aside to focus on her sweet voice, husky and honeyed. That was a much more pleasant thought.
“Has your name brought you good fortune, then?” he asked.
“Up until today it has.”
It was a cute turn of humor and they shared a small chuckle. Mathias thought he might actually be blushing but he wasn’t about to touch his face to see if it was warm. He could only pray it wasn’t. He’d never in his life met a lady that so easily extracted emotion from him in so short amount of time. He labored to keep his control and not look like a giddy fool in front of her.
“I am sure the events of today will not sour your good fortune,” he said. “I suspect you still have many years of blessings before you.”
Cathlina was still smiling at him but as she lingered on her sister’s near-abduction again, her smile began to fade. She was still quite shaken by the whole thing.
“What do you suppose he wanted with my sister?” she asked hesitantly. “I have never heard of a man simply walking up to a woman and trying to steal her.”
Mathias shrugged, trying to make light of the situation because it had ended well when it could have ended so tragically. He thought it was perhaps best not to dwell on what could have been before he had intervened.
“Mayhap he wanted someone to come home with him and cook him a meal,” he said, mildly teasing as he skirted the subject. “Or mayhap he simply wanted a wife.”
Cathlina turned to him, rather surprised. “Steal a wife?” she repeated. “I have never heard of such a thing.”
“’Tis true. Those things happen.”
She could sense his humored manner and it was difficult not to give in to the mood in spite of the serious subject matter. “Do you speak from experience, then?”
Mathias looked at her, full-on. His lips twitched with a smile. “I do not need to steal a wife.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” she said with feigned seriousness. “I suppose women simply fall at your feet wherever you go and you can have your pick of them.”
He was trying very hard not to grin. Her humor was charming, and rather mocking of him, but he wasn’t offended in the least.
“Something like that,” he teased. “Women are always eager to marry a smithy.”
Cathlina laughed softly, glancing towards the smithy stalls down the avenue. “Is that your trade over there?”
She was pointing and he followed the direction of her finger. “Aye,” he replied. “My father, my brother, and me; we are the largest smithy operation in Brampton.”
Cathlina dropped her finger and looked at him. “You were very brave to come as you did,” she said. “I would not believe a smithy to be so brave.”
He was amused. “Why not?”
She cocked her head as if cornered by the question. “Because that is not your vocation,” she said, trying to explain. “You shoe horses and make weapons. You do not answer the call to arms as brave men do.”
His amusement faded. As brave men do. He had been a brave man, once. Her comment hammered home the fact that he was no longer among the privileged, no longer in command of thousands of men who looked to him for guidance and strength. It seemed like an eternity ago when he last held a sword. Truth was, he hadn’t thought much about it since the day he had been stripped of his weapons and lands and titles. There was no use dwelling on what he could not change. But at the moment, he was thinking on that very fact. He felt very useless.
“It was not a matter of answering the call to arms,” he said quietly. “It was simply a matter of doing what was right.”
Before Cathlina could respond, she caught sight of her father and sister coming down the avenue towards them, weaving through the crowds of people. Cathlina waved frantically at them.
“Father!” she called. “Roxane! Thank the Lord you have returned!”
Cathlina’s father was a big man, muscular in his younger days but had now gone mostly to fat. He was balding and with a growth of beard, focusing curiously on his middle daughter as she called out to him.
“What is it?” he asked, depositing a burlap-wrapped bundle into the back of the wagon. “What is amiss?”
Cathlina didn’t hold back. She told her father the entire sordid tale, watching the man’s face turn red with anger and fright. Upon hearing the horrible story, the older sister, a dark-haired young woman who had a mere shadow of her middle sister’s beauty, leapt into the back of the wagon to comfort Abechail. When Cathlina came to the part in the story where Abechail was so wonderfully saved, she pointed right at Mathias.
“This brave man came to our aid when no one else would,” she told her father. “He was wonderful. He and his brother saved us. You must reward him.”
Mathias was uncomfortable now that they were all focused on him. The father, his features still flushed with shock, made his way to him.
“Is this true?” he asked Mathias, as if he didn’t quite believe his daughter’s fantastic tale. “Was there truly a man to take my youngest daughter?”
Mathias could see the look of panic on the man’s face. “It is true,” he said. “But she is safe now. Lady Cathlina was quite brave. She fought him valiantly.”
The father was stunned. He turned swiftly to Cathlina, inspecting her hands and arms for bruises before kissing her palms and turning his attention to Abechail.
The youngest daughter, who had managed to calm down somewhat since her brush with violence, was now weeping and quivering again as her eldest sister and father fussed over her. Mathias could see how shaken they all were. It was, in fact, quite touching to see how much they all cared about one another. That kind of devotion was rare.
Feeling rather as if he were viewing something intensely private, he turned to leave but was halted by Cathlina. She called his name, stopping him, and by the time he turned around, she was running at him. Her soft hands grasped his arm and those big brown eyes were shining up at him.
“Please,” she begged softly. “You cannot leave before my father has had an opportunity to reward you.”
Mathias had been touched by many women. He had also touched women from time to time, purely innocent gestures that meant nothing more than polite attentiveness. But he had never felt such fire from a touch as he felt now. Cathlina’s soft hands were searing his flesh like brands. He could feel the heat all the way down to his toes.
“A reward is not necessary,” he assured her. “It was my pleasure to assist.”
“Will you at least come to Kirklinton and dine with us?” she pleaded softly. “Please allow us to show our thanks for your bravery. Do not deny us an opportunity to show you how grateful we are.”
Gazing down into that sweet face, he knew he shouldn’t agree. It wasn’t a good idea, on so many levels. As much as he wanted to accept her invitation if only to bask in Cathlina’s beauty for the evening, it simply wasn’t wise. She was a de Lara and he wanted to stay far away from anything de Lara. But as he stood there with her, having her on his arm, he felt more like a man than he had in over a year. Odd how such a gesture fortified him. She fortified him. But he was forced to refuse.
“Your offer is very kind but I must decline, my lady,” he said, trying not to sound cruel. “I can live the rest of my life on the gratitude you have already shown me. Anything more would seem greedy and excessive. I wish you and your family well.”
He would never forget the look on Cathlina’s face as he turned to walk away from her. It was a very difficult thing not to relent because he certainly didn’t want to cause her such disappointment, but it couldn’t be helped. He had done his good deed and would leave it at that.
He had work to do.