A True and Perfect Knight Read online

  “You make good points, wife. But I must say you nay. The tower keep itself is our last defense against intruders. I would not provide enemies with supplies that they could use against us. Nor would I give cause for my own people to starve because an enemy prevents them getting to grain and meat. You know that ’tis for this very reason that we are making a well inside the keep.”

  Gennie nodded at this reminder. “Oui, husband. I have felt so secure here that I had forgotten.”

  Haven smiled, pleased that she had confidence in his ability to keep her safe. He firmed his decision to do everything in his power to increase that safety, even if he must give up a few nights in their bed. Once he had solved the problem of the intruder in the dungeon, he could celebrate for a string of nights behind the door of the new solar.

  Gennie didn’t like it when he escorted her to the gate-house and told her that he would be busy for the next few nights. She wanted to know exactly what he would be doing and where. How could she be assured of his safety if he wasn’t in bed with her? Her concern touched him, but he refused to yield. This duty was his as Edward’s vassal and the guardian of Two Hills Keep. Gennie would simply have to trust him. She had sniffed and told him to take his warmest cloak and some food, if he wouldn’t accept her concern. He had nodded his agreement and left.

  Now he sat in the dark dungeon, his blade drawn, his back pressed up against the wall opposite the stairs that led down from the keep’s first floor. That floor rested on a stone foundation that raised it a good ten feet from ground level. That way the wooden stair that led into the castle from the bailey could be cut away from the building, leaving intruders with no way to enter the main tower. Still, the chinking in some of the stonework was imperfect, allowing a small amount of light to penetrate the gloom during the day. At night the place was pitch black. Even so, Haven’s vision adjusted, and soon he could make out the difference between solid shapes and empty spaces.

  As people retired, the sounds of the tower stilled. He waited, expecting that he would repeat the experience for several nights before his quarry returned. Haven sat in that cramped position, hidden by bags of grain, for a great length of time. He recounted in silence the exploits of Charlemagne and King Arthur, in order to keep himself awake.

  A sound at the top of the interior stair rewarded his endurance. The fool had returned early. Haven put his hand to his sword and silently cautioned himself to patience. The stairs creaked under the person’s weight. A halo of light surrounded the figure that moved downward, pausing at the bottom of the stair. Even better, the intruder had brought a lantern. The man was overconfident.

  Still Haven waited. As much as he wanted to catch and punish the intruder, he wanted more to know what the man sought. The fellow was moving now, headed for a spot on the wall at Haven’s left. The intruder set down his lantern and began to shift the sacks that topped a few ale barrels. When he had moved the barrels aside as well, Haven heard a scraping noise. Then the figure picked up his lantern and vanished from sight.

  Silently, Haven rushed to the spot where he had just seen the man. There, behind the barrels, was a square opening in the cellar floor. A trapdoor was propped against the wall, and Haven could see the faint light of the intruder’s lantern. Haven debated whether or not to follow the man, when the light began to brighten. He was returning.

  Sword at the ready, Haven crouched behind a barrel and waited for his prey to emerge fully from the hole. The man rose from the ground. He placed his lantern atop one of the barrels and reached for the trap door. In that moment, Haven stood, putting his sword to the man’s throat. “Hold and turn to me.” The knave complied.

  “You!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “What are you doing down here, Pwyll?”

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “But you won’t because you know I am looking for you.”

  “True. I thought it a stroke of good fortune when no one remarked on the broken crockery and spilled grain from my last two visits.”

  “Well, your luck just ran out.”

  “Maybe. But perhaps you would like to see what I’ve found.”

  “Answer my question first.”

  “As you like. I was looking for a silver mine.”

  At this absurd response, Haven dropped his blade a few inches. It now pointed directly at Pwyll’s heart. “You jest at your peril.”

  “Nay, sir, I can show proof.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.” Pwyll pulled a pouch from his belt and held it out to Haven.

  “Empty it onto the barrel next to your lantern.”

  Pwyll did so. Several rocks slid from the pouch to the barrel surface.

  Haven sheathed his sword and picked up one of the rocks. “And you claim this is silver?”

  “Aye, Sir Haven. You can have this sent to the king. He no doubt has metallurgists who can verify my claim.”

  “Mayhap I will do so. Show me where this silver mine is.”

  Haven slid into bed beside Gennie and reached for her warm body. Even in sleep, Gennie sidled away from his cold grasp.

  He didn’t blame her, but he wanted to share his news with her, and he needed her warmth.

  To look at the mine, Haven had followed Pwyll on a long and filthy walk beneath the bowels of the keep. From the way water dripped down the walls of the tunnel in places, Pwyll speculated that the tunnel ran under the river. Haven didn’t care. Once he had seen the cavern where Pwyll had found the rocks, all Haven wanted was to return aboveground and wash the stink of moldering earth from his body.

  On his way back to Gennie, he had stopped at the cistern in the bailey, stripped and sluiced his entire body with clear water. That left him clean but cold. He had dried his feet, picked up his clothing and run for the gatehouse chamber where his wife dreamed.

  Haven pursued her across the ticking. When she could retreat no farther, she finally woke.

  “You are freezing,” she said, frowning, and blinked sleep from her green eyes.

  Haven kissed her. “So warm me,” he requested when he came up for air.

  “With pleasure,” Gennie purred.

  Later, when Haven’s breathing calmed and they lay twined together, he told her of Pwyll’s discovery.

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “Nay, and they shall not, until we can determine how best to turn this discovery to our advantage.”

  “You cannot keep this secret for long.”

  “Long enough to get word to the king wherever he is and have him send a metallurgist and smelter to advise us.”

  “Must you tell Edward?”

  “This is his castle, Gennie. The silver belongs to the crown. I hold it by Edward’s grace.”

  “I see. But could you not use some of the crown’s silver to make improvements to the crown’s grace?”

  Haven smiled. “I will certainly put that in my message to Edward.”

  A few weeks later, Haven went in search of Gennie and for the third time in as many days found her in close conversation with Pwyll. They sprang apart at the sight of him. What attraction did the young Welshman have for his wife? Haven shook the thought away as foolish. Gennie was so enthusiastic in their bed at night, she could have no passion left for another man. She had even said she loved him, a declaration he still found hard to believe, but one he reveled in every day.

  “Sir Haven, well met. I’ve news,” said Pwyll.

  Gennie excused herself, saying she needed to consult with Rene on the evening meal.

  Impatient with his wife’s desertion, Haven spoke sharply. “What is it, Pwyll?”

  “I found an entrance to the mine on the far side of the hill opposite the keep.”

  “Did anyone see you?” Haven asked, instantly interested.

  “Nay. Nor is this other entrance easy to find.”

  “Good. I will have Soames add the location to our patrols.”

  “Won’t he wonder why?”

  “Mayhap, but mor
e like he’ll be embarrassed that he forgot to add it to the patrol in the first place. Behind that hill is an excellent place for an enemy to gather for a surprise attack.”

  Pwyll nodded. “I am not used to this business of keeping secrets. How long do you think it will be until the king sends a response to your message?”

  “Who can say? It will take two weeks to get word to Chester and back. Since the king is elsewhere fighting Llewellyn, we must wait until the messenger finds him.”

  “Then there is nothing left to do but wait.”

  “Aye.”

  “If that will be all, sir, I will see to progress on the well. You are right that the cistern is vulnerable to attack. A well located in the dungeon will be much more secure.”

  “Aye. If you need more men, let me know.”

  Pwyll bowed and left.

  Haven headed for the practice field that now occupied a large section of the bailey. On his way, he noticed Watley talking with Rebecca near a corner of the stables. Obviously, neither had learned discretion during his illness. The relationship could not be allowed to continue. Haven changed course, coming up on the couple from behind the stable. “Ahem.”

  Just like Pwyll and Gennie, they started apart, as if discovered in something sinful.

  “Good day to you, Mistress Rebecca.” Haven spoke as if he had noticed nothing unusual. “Watley, I understand that your training has been sadly lacking since I fell ill.”

  “Aye, Sir Haven.”

  “Then join me on the practice field.”

  “Aye, Sir Haven.”

  Haven waited.

  “G-goodbye, Rebecca.”

  “Goodbye, Watley.” She lifted her hem and walked off.

  “I hope you are not being drawn in by her again?” Haven asked.

  The squire remained silent.

  Just as well, Haven thought. There wasn’t much the lad could say. But he caught the glint in Watley’s eye and the tension in his jaw as they walked to the practice field. No doubt the squire wanted to teach him a lesson. Let him try.

  There could be no better training than to fight a man you wanted to beat some sense into. Today Watley would learn to check his emotions before he joined in battle.

  With a groan of relief, Haven settled into bed beside Gennie. Watley had gotten in several good blows before Haven could taunt him into carelessness and defeat the younger man. With that fight finished, it seemed that every available man wanted to test Haven’s strength. He knew they needed confirmation that he was completely recovered, so he accepted every challenge.

  And he bested them all, save Owain, which surprised no one, since Haven had taken the big man on last. Haven had hidden his aches and pains well from the men, but in the privacy of his own chamber, he could acknowledge how ill-prepared he had been for this day’s exercise. When Gennie snuggled next to him, Haven did no more than anchor her to his side with an arm about her waist before nodding off to sleep.

  Had it not been for the dropping of his arm, Haven might not have noticed Gennie slip from the bed and leave the solar. As it was, between his own aches and Gennie’s soft footsteps padding about the room, Haven came quickly awake. But Gennie was gone just as quickly, or Haven would have called out to her. He spent moments in thought, then followed her as rapidly as he could don his clothing.

  Either his pains had slowed him more than he expected, or Gennie was in a great hurry, for her blue cloak trailed around the corner at the bottom of the stair just as Haven reached its head. He dared not rush down the steps. New as they were, they had a tendency to squeak and groan. Thus, by the time he cleared the stairs, Gennie had disappeared.

  Had the outer door of the keep not stood open, Haven would have guessed that she headed toward the new keeping room near the soon-to-be-finished well. But finding the door open was so odd that he had to pursue that path first. No doubt he had missed her and would find her back in bed on his return.

  Haven eased out the door. He rested a moment, surveying the bailey below. A guard marched his post on the inner curtain wall from stables to gatehouse. Haven hurried across to him.

  “Who goes there?” The words came at Haven in heavily accented English.

  “Sir Haven,” he told the Welshman. “Have you seen anyone pass this way?”

  The man wrinkled his face and pondered, finally uttering, “Aye.”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. “Was it a woman?”

  Again that painful look of concentration. “Nay.”

  Haven should have known. Gennie was probably back in bed already.

  “’Twas a man and a woman.”

  “What?”

  The guard jumped.

  Haven reminded himself not to shout.

  “I said, ‘’twas…’”

  “I know what you said. Which way did they go?”

  “T’the stables, sir,” the guard added.

  “My thanks. Return to your post.”

  The guard hurried away.

  Haven paced soft-footed toward the stables. There too, the door stood ajar. Someone was being careless. Haven slipped through the opening and stepped into the shadows cast by the loft. At the far end of the building, two horses stood saddled and ready to ride.

  In front of the horses, a man embraced a woman. Haven recognized Gennie’s blue cloak. She had gone into alt when he had presented it to her as a wedding gift, along with a trunk full of clothing.

  The man wore nothing that revealed his identity. Haven watched as the two kissed, murmured and kissed again. It was obvious that Gennie was about to leave him. Through a haze of red, he debated letting her go.

  But she knew all the keep’s defenses, and she knew of the silver mine. He could not allow her to betray him or anyone else. The couple had to be stopped. The man would learn a valuable lesson about letting his cock guide his head, and the deceitful lady would get her just desserts.

  Letting out a frustrated roar, Haven gave his opponent enough warning to let go of the woman. Then Haven grabbed the fellow, intent upon beating him senseless. The man’s nose made a satisfying crunch under Haven’s fist, but that only whetted his appetite. He throttled the man with one hand, picked him up and slammed him against the stone wall of the stable.

  The woman screamed. Horses reared and snorted. The commotion drew footsteps. Amid the yelling and chaos, Haven continued to pound his fists into his victim’s face and ribs. He didn’t even stop when the fist bucket of cold water hit him. To pull him from the man’s bruised and bloody body required another dousing and two strong men. The haze cleared. Haven looked down at the man who dared to touch Gennie.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Watley, my love,” Rebecca wailed. “That brute has beaten you like a churl.”

  What was Rebecca doing here? Haven stopped struggling against the men who held him. “Would someone tell me what is going on here?”

  “Indeed, husband, I too would like to know why you attacked Watley.”

  Haven craned his neck to see his wife.

  Covered in her nightrobe and shawl, Gennie stood in the doorway to the stables, surrounded by curious folk.

  Haven shook his head. If Gennie wore her robe, then who wore Gennie’s cloak? He turned back to the man and woman nearest him. Watley groaned on the stable floor. Rebecca knelt next to him. From beneath the hood of Gennie’s cloak, the girl looked up at Haven with hatred clear in her eyes. “Beast,” she spat out and bent once more over Watley.

  Haven studied Gennie, who smiled and moved to his side. What did she have to smile about?

  “Husband, have you been beastly to your squire again?” She took his arm.

  “Again?”

  “Oui, I understand that you defeated him most grievously at practice today.”

  “That was not beastly. That was training.”

  “Yes, husband. I am glad you cleared that up for us.” She looked pointedly at Rebecca, then touched Haven’s face. “You have a cut, sir.”

  He put his hand to where hers soot
hed his forehead. Given his fierce onslaught, Watley had done well to land any blow. Haven spent a glance on his squire. “Can you stand?” he asked the young man.

  Watley tested his jaw, moving it from side to side. “Aye.”

  Haven bent and offered a hand.

  The young man grasped it, hauling himself upright. “I do not apologize for hitting you. You deserved punishment for defying my express orders to stay away from Rebecca Dreyford.”

  Watley nodded.

  “I do apologize for mistaking Rebecca for my wife, and therefore for the extent of the punishment meted out.”

  “’Twas an easy mistake to make,” mumbled the squire, who continued to check that all his teeth remained in place.

  “Well enough. Return to the barracks. Soames will get someone to tend to your hurts.”

  Watley left, pushing through the people who surrounded the stable door.

  Haven frowned at the crowd, and they fled like sparrows before a hawk.

  Gennie chuckled, “You are so very fierce, husband.”

  Haven turned his frown on her.

  “’Twill take more than an unhappy look from you to vanquish me, sir.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I will deal with you later.” He straightened his expression and looked at Rebecca.

  The girl stood in the corner of a stall, a vision of cowering defiance.

  “You have much to answer for, Mistress Dreyford.” Haven stepped toward her.

  “Nay,” the girl cried and burst into tears. “Do not touch me. You are a cruel man.”

  Taken aback by this outburst, he halted and felt Gennie’s hand on his arm. He looked back at her. “Wife?”

  “She is hysterical, husband. Permit me to take care of her.”

  Wanting no more to do with Rebecca than she with him, Haven nodded. “I will await you in the solar. But we will have words, wife.”

  With Haven gone, Gennie suppressed the impulse to hug and soothe. In the past, she had used gentleness with Rebecca to no avail. ’Twas time to be firm. Gennie advanced on her weeping sister-in-law. “I would have my cloak, Rebecca.”