night, Baron Gilbert Balmaine headed directly for the large glowing fire at its center. There the messenger he sent ahead awaited him.
Immediately, Gilbert's squire, Joseph, appeared at his side and began a recounting of the messenger's call upon the castle.
Joseph was not the person Gilbert wanted to hear from. Still irritated that the woman had run off, he threw his hand into the air, bringing an immediate halt to his squire's ramblings. Tossing the stallion's reins to the boy, he curtly instructed, "See he is properly fed and watered."
"Aye, my lord, 'twill be done," Joseph assured him, poorly disguising his frustration at his lord's strange mood. Though he did not understand what had brought it on, the baron's displeasure had been immediately evident when Joseph had interrupted his bathing a short while ago.
" 'Tis an undine I have seen," the baron had muttered, referring to those mythical water spirits who it was said could earn a soul by marrying a mortal and bearing his child.
Joseph had not understood then, and he did not understand now. Shrugging, he turned and led the destrier to where the others had been penned for the night.
Gilbert drew a hand through his damp hair, then began kneading the muscles at the back of his neck as he advanced upon the group of men gathered around the fire. The news he awaited was important, yet it seemed less so since his encounter at the bathing pool. The barely controlled anger beneath his calm surface quickened.
She had deceived him. She of the witching mouth and beguiling curves had dismissed her vow to him and disappeared as simply as she had appeared. Damnation, if she was real, he would find her. If not ...
Ridiculous! Of soft flesh and warm blood she had been. She was no wraith, but a woman.
"I will have me a leman on the morrow," he muttered as a knight disengaged himself from the others and came forward.
"My lord." Sir Lancelyn respectfully inclined his head. "I bring news from the king's man, Sir Royce."
Setting his feet apart, Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. "And?"
"All is secure. There will be no resistance. On the morrow all of Medland will be given over to you."
Gilbert considered the tidings, then nodded his approval. "What of the old man?"
The knight shrugged. "Naturally, he would fight you for Medland, but he is without recourse. Nearly all his men have deserted his cause. I am told his vassals are eager to pledge themselves to you."
This pleased Gilbert. He had recently set himself the task of ridding the world of all Charwycks. Edward was the last one. With a grunt of discomfort he shifted his weight off his aching right leg. "Then Charwyck will not give me his oath of fealty?" he asked, his sarcasm just below the surface.
"Not likely, my lord."
Shrugging his indifference, though a comer of his mouth turned up, Gilbert began grinding the heel of his palm into his aching thigh. "Good."
The vassal stepped nearer, urgency etched in the grooves and furrows around his mouth and eyes. "My lord, methinks it best you expel this Charwyck from Medland at the first opportunity. He is certain to prove a difficulty."
Gilbert stilled, his brows arching high. This time he smiled fully. "He is of the same bent as Philip?"
"This I do not know, but Sir Royce believes him mad. He raves incessantly with threats against both you and your sister."
A fire leaped to Gilbert's eyes. "He has been detained?"
"Aye, he was." Lancelyn frowned before he continued. "However, this morn Sir Royce allowed him his freedom. Although he does not think the old man much of a threat, he warns he is not to be trusted."
Gilbert shook his head. "He is old and now without an heir. What can he gain from resisting? Even had King Henry not given Medland into my care, 'twould likely return to the crown upon Charwyck's death."
Lancelyn's face lit.
Catching sight of the man's expression, Gilbert raised a questioning brow. "So ... tell me."
" 'Tis not as thought," Sir Lancelyn said in
Immediately, Gilbert's squire, Joseph, appeared at his side and began a recounting of the messenger's call upon the castle.
Joseph was not the person Gilbert wanted to hear from. Still irritated that the woman had run off, he threw his hand into the air, bringing an immediate halt to his squire's ramblings. Tossing the stallion's reins to the boy, he curtly instructed, "See he is properly fed and watered."
"Aye, my lord, 'twill be done," Joseph assured him, poorly disguising his frustration at his lord's strange mood. Though he did not understand what had brought it on, the baron's displeasure had been immediately evident when Joseph had interrupted his bathing a short while ago.
" 'Tis an undine I have seen," the baron had muttered, referring to those mythical water spirits who it was said could earn a soul by marrying a mortal and bearing his child.
Joseph had not understood then, and he did not understand now. Shrugging, he turned and led the destrier to where the others had been penned for the night.
Gilbert drew a hand through his damp hair, then began kneading the muscles at the back of his neck as he advanced upon the group of men gathered around the fire. The news he awaited was important, yet it seemed less so since his encounter at the bathing pool. The barely controlled anger beneath his calm surface quickened.
She had deceived him. She of the witching mouth and beguiling curves had dismissed her vow to him and disappeared as simply as she had appeared. Damnation, if she was real, he would find her. If not ...
Ridiculous! Of soft flesh and warm blood she had been. She was no wraith, but a woman.
"I will have me a leman on the morrow," he muttered as a knight disengaged himself from the others and came forward.
"My lord." Sir Lancelyn respectfully inclined his head. "I bring news from the king's man, Sir Royce."
Setting his feet apart, Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. "And?"
"All is secure. There will be no resistance. On the morrow all of Medland will be given over to you."
Gilbert considered the tidings, then nodded his approval. "What of the old man?"
The knight shrugged. "Naturally, he would fight you for Medland, but he is without recourse. Nearly all his men have deserted his cause. I am told his vassals are eager to pledge themselves to you."
This pleased Gilbert. He had recently set himself the task of ridding the world of all Charwycks. Edward was the last one. With a grunt of discomfort he shifted his weight off his aching right leg. "Then Charwyck will not give me his oath of fealty?" he asked, his sarcasm just below the surface.
"Not likely, my lord."
Shrugging his indifference, though a comer of his mouth turned up, Gilbert began grinding the heel of his palm into his aching thigh. "Good."
The vassal stepped nearer, urgency etched in the grooves and furrows around his mouth and eyes. "My lord, methinks it best you expel this Charwyck from Medland at the first opportunity. He is certain to prove a difficulty."
Gilbert stilled, his brows arching high. This time he smiled fully. "He is of the same bent as Philip?"
"This I do not know, but Sir Royce believes him mad. He raves incessantly with threats against both you and your sister."
A fire leaped to Gilbert's eyes. "He has been detained?"
"Aye, he was." Lancelyn frowned before he continued. "However, this morn Sir Royce allowed him his freedom. Although he does not think the old man much of a threat, he warns he is not to be trusted."
Gilbert shook his head. "He is old and now without an heir. What can he gain from resisting? Even had King Henry not given Medland into my care, 'twould likely return to the crown upon Charwyck's death."
Lancelyn's face lit.
Catching sight of the man's expression, Gilbert raised a questioning brow. "So ... tell me."
" 'Tis not as thought," Sir Lancelyn said in
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