Chapter 10
“Father, what are you doing here?” Martin asked the next morning when he woke up to find the man standing in his bedchamber. Rock rushed in, hurrying over to join them.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t see him leave the great hall. I’ll remove him immediately.” Rock reached out for Lambert, but the man slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me, Squire, unless you want to lose a limb.” Lambert reached for his sword, but his hand came up empty. “Where is my sword?” In confusion, he looked around the room. Spying Martin’s sword, he headed for it. “Oh, there it is.”
“Nay!” Martin jumped from the bed and made it to his weapon first, holding it out of his father’s reach. “This is my sword, Father. You don’t have one.”
“Why not?” asked the man, a perplexed crinkle forming at the center of his forehead.
“I’ve taken it away for your own safety,” Martin admitted. “I didn’t want you hurting yourself – or anyone else.”
“That’s preposterous!” Lambert cried out. “How will I protect your mother and sisters without a weapon? I demand you give it back to me.”
“They’re not coming back, so you don’t need to worry about it.” Martin tossed his weapon belt on the bed. “Squire, get me my clothes.”
“Aye, my lord.” Rock rushed over to a trunk and returned with clean clothes in his hands. Martin reached out and took them, dressing as he continued to talk.
“Father, you are addled. It is time I sent you to a priory to live. You will do me no good staying here.”
“I am not addled!” he spat. “And I urge you to hold your tongue. You seem to think I know naught of what goes on at Castle Heaton but, I assure you, I do.”
Martin shook his head, not having time for this now. He needed to address the fact that Winter had deceived him, and he wasn’t even sure how to approach it. “You might know what the cooks are serving for dinner or how hot the fire is in the great hall, but nothing else. You live in a dream world, Father, and I cannot allow it anymore. You’ll be moved to Brinkburn Priory later today. I’m sorry, but it is for your own good.”
His father reached out for a chair and sank atop it. His eyes stared at nothing in particular. Martin finished dressing and donned his weapon belt and then gave a command to his squire.
“Rock, make sure my father’s things are packed. Take him to the priory after the main meal.”
“Aye, my lord,” said Rock, standing at Lambert’s side. Martin turned to exit the room but stopped in his tracks when he heard his father’s next words.
“You think I don’t know that you bedded the sister of the king’s bastards?”
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, not turning around when he spoke but, instead, looking at the floor.
“I knew from the moment she arrived with the blacksmith that she was a noblewoman in disguise. If you weren’t so ignorant, you would have noticed, too.”
“I am not ignorant!” He spun around, angry at his father’s accusation. “She deceived me. No one knew she was a noble. Had I known, I would never have taken her to my bed.”
“You should feel ashamed of yourself, Son,” his father continued. “The servants tell me you brought her to your bedchamber last night and that she left the room moments later, crying.”
“Which servants?” he asked. “I will make sure they have their tongues cut out for telling such lies.”
Rock cleared his throat. “Excuse me for saying this, my lord, but I, too, heard your little quarrel with Lady Winter last evening. I think the entire castle saw and heard what happened.”
“All right, so it’s true,” he growled. “I did take her to my bedchamber, but only to teach her a lesson. She deceived me and needs to be punished.”
“Isn’t she the one making your highly-coveted Damascus sword?” asked Lambert. “How will it ever be finished if she’s locked away in the dungeon?”
“Damn, that’s right,” said Martin, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “Mayhap, I’ll keep her around until the sword is finished.”
“I cannot believe you.” His father sprang to his feet. “Don’t you feel even a little bad for what you did to Lady Winter?”
“What I did?” His eyes opened wide as he thumped his palm against his chest. “What about what she did to me? I cannot let what happened between us go unaddressed.”
“Then do what any knight worth his salt would do,” said her father. “Marry the girl and make her your wife.”
“Marry her?” Martin half-laughed, not sure if his father was more addled than he thought or perhaps a genius.
“Aye, that would solve the problem,” said Rock. “Then her brothers and father won’t come after you when they learn you took her virginity.”
“God’s eyes, does everyone know that, too?” Martin clenched his hands into fists and walked over to the open window for some air.
“The chambermaid saw the blood on the sheets,” Rock told him. “She told the kitchen maid who told the alewives who told the stableboy. That’s where I heard it.”
“Enough!” shouted Martin, looking out the window. He spotted Lady Winter crossing the courtyard, still dressed in her peasant’s attire and heading for the smithy. Her long, black hair was woven into a braid that hung down her back. Now that he knew who she really was, he did feel foolish for not noticing it sooner, as his father said.
She glided across the cobbled stones with her spine straight and her head held high. Just the way a noble would walk. The scent of rosewater had drifted from her pale, soft skin. Her teeth were white and straight as well. Bid the devil, why hadn’t he seen all the signs? Hadn’t she also slipped up several times by calling Wallace by his first name instead of calling him Father?
Winter told him she had three brothers and that she was a lady. He’d only thought she was role-playing in the bedchamber. Damn her for not telling him the truth before lust had filled his head and he couldn’t think straight.
Andromeda landed on a post outside the blacksmith shop. Winter noticed and stopped, seeming to be talking to the bird. Reaching out, she ran her hand over the feathers atop the bird’s head.
How could he have ever thought she was weak and afraid? After all, she was touching his falcon after he’d warned her that the bird was dangerous. She was also headed to the forge – even after the way he’d treated her last night. Perhaps, he was the weak one, not her. He’d made a mistake whether he’d been deceived by her or not. His father was right. A good and loyal knight would remedy his shortcomings. How could Martin call himself a strong and respectable knight if he didn’t fix his mistakes? There was only one thing to do in this situation - accept the advice of a madman. It made him leery, but he had no other choice.
“All right. I’ll marry her,” he said, turning back to his squire and his father.
“You’re going to do what?” his squire’s voice squeaked in surprise.
“You were the one to tell me a minute ago that it was a good idea,” said Martin.
“That’s when I thought you’d never do it,” protested Rock. “I only agreed with your father so you wouldn’t send him away. I never thought you’d really marry her.”
“If he doesn’t marry her, no nobleman will ever want her,” remarked his father, all of a sudden sounding more like a wise man than a fool. “My son took her virginity. Every knight and lord of a castle wants a virgin to marry. It is his assurance he won’t end up with another man’s bastard. She’ll be sent to a convent now and shunned. If Martin doesn’t marry her, she’ll never have a husband or children.”
“I won’t let that happen,” said Martin, glancing out the window again. This time, Winter bent down, talking to a couple of children who were playing in the courtyard. His heart went out to her. She had told him she’d only deceived him to help the blacksmith and to forge his sword. Perhaps he was too hard on her. “I need to talk to Lady Winter.” In two strides, he was across the room and opening the door.
“My lord?” asked Rock. “Did you still want me to take your father to the priory?”
Martin’s throat tightened and he shook his head. His father had helped him see the answer to his problem. No matter how addled he was at times, today, he’d sounded like the man Martin once admired and respected with all his heart and soul.
“Nay. My father will continue to live at Castle Heaton,” he told Rock.
“Thank you, my son,” said Lambert with a smile that spread from ear to ear. “That way, I’ll be here when your mother returns with your sisters.”
Martin groaned and headed out the door, wondering if he should be listening to a madman after all.
* * *
“Lady Winter, I am worried about my son,” Wallace told Winter as soon as she’d entered the blacksmith’s shop that morning. “We’ve been here for several days now and, still, I don’t know where Lord de Grey is keeping Josef. For all I know, he could have already killed my boy.”
“Now, Wallace, I don’t think you should worry.” Winter picked up the sword she’d been making and squinted one eye, peering down the edge of the blade, checking for warps. “I’m sure if Lord de Grey had an agreement he made with the old Lord Ravenscar, then your son is fine. Even if the man is self-absorbed, deceitful, and no-good when it comes to women.”
“Who are you calling self-absorbed, deceitful and no-good?” asked Martin, walking quietly into the shop with his squire right behind him. By the rood, didn’t that man ever make any noise? Once again, she hadn’t heard him coming.
Instead of answering, she turned and picked up his poker and handed it to him. “Here is your poker, all fixed. Isn’t that what you came for?”
He nodded to his squire. “Take the poker back to my chamber, Squire. Blacksmith, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’d like to talk to Lady Winter alone.”
“My lord, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Wallace, wringing his hands as he spoke. “I’d like to see my son, Josef.”
“Oh, that. Yes. Rock, be sure to take Wallace to the dungeon to see his son.”
“Aye, my lord,” answered Rock.
“The dungeon?” Winter cried out. “Please tell me this is only one of your little games and that you haven’t really been keeping Josef locked up for the past two months! He’s done nothing to deserve that kind of cruel treatment.”
“I’m not the one who plays games,” he snapped. “If I must remind you, you were the one to deceive me in the first place by telling me you were the blacksmith’s daughter.”
“I never told you any such thing.” She lifted her chin defiantly as she spoke. “You just assumed it.”
“Really. Then why have you been calling him Father?”
Her head lowered. She felt ashamed of what she had done. “Oh, all right, so I didn’t correct your mistake. But I only did it to help Wallace and Josef. You were so adamant about getting your sword.”
“Don’t make the sword; I don’t really care,” Martin told her, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What?” Her head snapped up, and bewilderment tainted her expression. He’d managed to shock her. “Then, what about Josef?” Her beautiful, green eyes darted over to Wallace and then back to him. “If I don’t finish your sword, will you set Wallace’s son free?”
“Please, my lord,” begged Wallace. “He is the only son I have. I beg you to let him come back to me.”
Something about Wallace reminded Martin of his father. And when Wallace begged to be reunited with his son, Martin felt the stab to his heart that his father would never be together again with the woman he married, nor his daughters. If that could be changed, Martin would have gone to any extreme to make it happen. No one should feel the loss of one they loved.
“Rock, tell the guard in the dungeon to set Josef free,” Martin commanded.
“My lord, you know the guards will only listen to you,” said Rock. “Especially when a command like that is given.”
“Then take the blacksmith to see his son now. I’ll go down to the dungeon and release him myself later.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Wallace, sounding as if he were about to grovel at Martin’s feet. “Will we then be free to leave Castle Heaton, once the sword is constructed?”
“Aye, will they?” asked Winter.
Martin’s eyes interlocked with Winter’s. The reflection of hope on her face almost melted his heart. He wanted to stay angry with her, but couldn’t. After the stunt he’d pulled last night, he figured this would be an excellent way to make it up to her.
“Aye, Wallace and Josef are free to go - without waiting for the sword to be completed.”
“Really?” asked the blacksmith excitedly. “What about Winnie? Will she be able to leave with us to go back to Ravenscar as well?”
Martin thought about it for a minute. He’d come there to tell her he was going to marry her – that he was going to make things right. But Winter seemed to have a mind of her own. What if she didn’t want to marry him? Would she fight him and escape back to Ravenscar when he had his back turned? He didn’t want that to happen because then he’d have to go after her and punish her when all he really wanted to do was hold her in his arms and kiss her.
“What do you want . . . Lady Winter?” he asked, stressing her name to remind them he knew the truth and that Wallace could stop calling her Winne now. The room became silent as he waited for her answer. Never did a lord ask a lady her wishes or her thoughts. He had just taken a risk and he only hoped it wasn’t another mistake on his part. However, he wanted to know how she felt about him after all that happened between them.
Winter ran a hand over the smooth steel of the Damascus sword in thought, looking very sad. “I – I don’t know,” she said, her eyes downcast instead of looking at him. He almost preferred it that way so she wouldn’t see his disappointment if she decided to leave. “If Wallace and Josef are leaving, then I suppose I will go with them.”
Martin’s heart stilled. He hadn’t expected her to want to leave. Not after the passion they’d shared in each other’s arms. Her desire for him that he’d witnessed the other night was missing now. Mayhap she didn’t want him after all.
“Then go,” he said in a low voice. “Pack your things and I’ll release the blacksmith’s son. My men will see that you get safe passage back to the docks where my ship will return you all to Ravenscar. It’ll set sail first thing in the morning.”
“What about your sword?” asked Winter, holding up the partially forged steel. “Who will finish making your sword for you?”
“I’ll find someone with the skills required. I’m sure you are not the only one who can do it.”
“My lord, what about your brother?” asked Rock. “Do you think you’ll be able to save him without the Sword of Damascus?”
“Your brother?” asked Winter, sounding concerned as well as curious. “Is he in danger?”
He didn’t want to tell her his troubles so he ignored her altogether and continued talking to his squire instead. “I’ve fought many a battle without it and won, Squire. I should have never waited so long to go after Jamesson in the first place. I will make plans immediately for his rescue.”
He turned and walked out of the smithy, heading to the dungeon to release the blacksmith’s son.
“Wait,” Winter called out from behind him. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
He wouldn’t beg her to stay. If she didn’t want him, then she was free to go. “That, my lady, no longer matters.”