Desire

10

Ulrich studied the white linen bandage plainly revealed by the tied-back sleeve of Gareth's gray tunic. "Dangerous things, daggers."

"Aye." Gareth flattened his hands on the table and leaned forward to study the sketch of the Isle of Desire that was spread out in front of him. "You have done excellent work on this drawing, Ulrich."

"Thank you, my lord." Ulrich's mouth kicked up at the corner. "Twas done rather hastily from notes I made during the past three days. I shall improve upon it as I grow more familiar with the isle."

"I am pleased. This map will prove useful as we plan the isle's defense."

"Judging by the gossip which had swirled through this hall all morning, it might be wise if you prepared a defense against your bride."

Gareth looked up from the parchment map. "Twas an accident, Ulrich."

"Aye. Whatever you say."

"I was entertaining my wife by demonstrating some tricks with my dagger.

The damn thing slipped."

"Tricks with your dagger." Ulrich looked thoughtful. "In the marriage bed."

"Aye."

"Accidents will happen."

"Aye."

"Is dagger juggling in bed a local custom here on Desire, sir?" Ulrich asked politely.

"Tis the custom of a man who has had one too many cups of wine."

"I have never known you to drink a quantity of wine sufficient to make you careless with your dagger."

"You have never known me to get myself wed, either."

"Aye, that is true."

"There is a first time for all things, Ulrich."

"That would, mayhap, explain the laughter that is said to have been heard coming from the bridal chamber very early this morning."

"Laughter?" Gareth gave his friend a quizzical glance.

"A man's laughter. Or so gossip has it. Great peels of it, apparently.

Loud enough to be heard by a pair of maids in the hall outside your bedchamber."

Gareth shrugged. "Household servants are inclined to gossip." He went back to the map.

"You would know nothing of any laughter, naturally," Ulrich said.

"Nay."

"Never having been known to laugh at anything in your entire life."

Gareth ignored that. "For the most part, Desire appears to be naturally fortified by its high cliffs."

"Aye."

"The only obvious place to bring a boat ashore is the village harbor."

"Aye. But I noticed a couple of tiny coves here along the side of the isle that looks out across the channel toward Seabern." Ulrich indicated the points with his forefinger.

"Could a boat be landed in either place?"

Ulrich glanced at the sketch. "A small fishing boat, mayhap. But the climb up to the top of the cliffs would not be easy. One definitely could not bring a party of mounted men ashore at either of those two locations. There is no cause for concern there."

"Tis often the small things that cause a man to trip and fall."

Ulrich's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Small things such as daggers?"

"Aye. Are there any other interesting features of the isle?"

"Young William is very observant. He tells me that there are some caves in the cliffs near one of the small coves."

Gareth frowned. "Could men or arms be hidden in them?"

"Nay. At least not for more than a few hours. William says that at high tides the caves are filled with seawater."

"Very well." Gareth pondered the sketch. "Let us turn to the matter of this hall. The old wooden curtain wall is weak and sagging in many places. It must be replaced."

"Surely there is no great rush. Desire has never suffered an invasion and is not likely to do so anytime soon."

"I prefer to take every precaution."

"Aye, you always do. Except in bed, apparently."

Gareth frowned. "I want the old wall replaced with one constructed of stone."

"We will need to hire stonemasons in order to do that. I doubt that Desire has any available."

"We can hire them from Seabem. Send a man there as soon as possible to see to the matter."

"Aye, my lord."

Gareth took one last look at the map. "A natural fortress. Tis a good land we have come to, Ulrich."

He rolled up the parchment. "A fine land."

"They say that there was a very large bloodstain on the bridal sheets this morning," Ulrich murmured. "Far more blood than anyone would expect to discover after the normal activities of a wedding night."

"My dagger wound caused the greater portion of it. Damned thing bled like a slaughtered chicken."

Ulrich grinned. "Gareth, you and I have been as close as two brothers for more than ten years. Surely you can tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"About your little accident with the dagger. What really happened? Is it true that your bride took offense at your lovemaking and that she attempted to fend you off with your own blade?"

Gareth scowled. "Is that what the gossips are saying?"

"Tis one of the rumors going around." Ulrich raised his brows. "There are others, but none that are nearly so amusing. Mayhap if I knew the truth, I could squelch some of the gossip."

Gareth met his friend's glinting gaze very steadily. "I told you the truth. It was an accident."

"God's eyes, man, this is your old comrade-in-arms, remember? I know how you handle weapons.

Do not expect me to believe that you accidentally sliced your arm with your own dagger while acting the juggler in bed."

"As you said, accidents will happen." Gareth paused. "Especially in the marriage bed."

Ulrich swore again, under his breath. "Very well. If that is the way you would have it, so be it."

A knock on the door interrupted Gareth before he could respond.

"Enter," he called.

The heavy wooden door swung slowly inward to reveal the anxious but determined faces of William and Dalian.

"Good day to you, my lord," William said. He had a small chunk of meat pie in one hand.

"Good day." Gareth glanced at the meat pie.

William hastily concealed the pie behind his back and glanced uneasily at Dalian. It was clear he was waiting for either guidance or reinforcement from his older companion.

Dalian swallowed visibly. There were beads of perspiration on his brow.

His fingers clenched and unclenched in the folds of his tunic. "We came to speak with you, my lord." He looked pointedly at Ulrich. "We wish to be private."

Gareth studied Dalian. The minstrel was plainly terrified, but apparently he was not about to flee from the confrontation. In Gareth's experience there was only one thing that could fortify a young man's frail courage to such a degree: a woman.

"I comprehend that this conversation would concern Lady Clare, then?" he asked softly.

Dalian blinked several times very rapidly. "Aye, my lord, it would."

William stared, round-eyed, up at Gareth. "Is it true that she cut your arm with a dagger last night because you tried to hurt her, sir?"

Gareth tapped the rolled-up parchment lightly against his thigh. "Is that what she told you?"

"Nay, sir," William began eagerly. "She says?"

"My lady says it was an accident," Dalian broke in angrily. "She claims that you were entertaining her with a clever juggling feat and that the dagger slipped and cut your arm. But I do not believe it."

"What do you think happened?"

"I think you attacked her and she was forced to defend herself. She has told us many times that she does not care for large, arrogant, overbearing knights. She says they are oafish and ill-mannered and they do not have the souls of poets."

Ulrich coughed a little behind one hand.

Gareth kept his gaze on Dalian. "You doubt your lady's explanation of my injury?"

Dalian's hands knotted into fists. His sullen, resentful eyes mirrored his fear, but he did not back down.

"I believe that she is afraid to alarm us with the truth, my lord. 'Tis just like her to try to protect William and me."

"From what?" Gareth asked.

"From you," William said helpfully. "Dalian says that we are risking our very lives by coming here to talk to you like this. He says you'll likely be violently angry but that we have to do it in order to protect Lady Clare."

Gareth put the parchment map down. Then he leaned back against the table, folded his arms, and considered the matter in silence for a moment. No one moved. The chamber grew very quiet.

"I am not angry," he said finally.

William heaved a loud sigh and then grinned. "I did not think that you would be." He promptly brought the meat pie out from behind his back and took a large bite. "I told Dalian that you likely had not hurt Clare last night."

"I appreciate your confidence in me," Gareth said. "What makes you so certain that I did not do your lady any great harm?"

William chewed. "Nothing seems amiss with her. She's in her usual good spirits. She is even now in her workrooms as she always is in the afternoons."

"Excellent reasoning, William," Ulrich said approvingly.

William preened. "Lady Clare says I am very intelligent."

"You are correct," Gareth said. "I did not harm your lady last night."

He looked at Dalian. "But apparently our minstrel does not agree. What do you propose to do, Dalian? Challenge me to trial by combat?"

William looked thunderstruck. "Combat?" he squeaked.

"Why not?" Gareth watched Dalian's face. "Tis the usual way such matters are settled when a lady's honor is at stake. Do you favor swords or daggers, Dalian?"

Dalian looked as though he were about to become ill. "My lord, I…

That is, my lady would never allow me to fight you."

"There's no need to consult Clare on this," Gareth said. "Tis a matter for men, is it not?"

"Ah, well?"

"I myself would prefer swords." Gareth glanced ruefully down at the linen bandage on his arm. "As you can see, I lack skill with the dagger. I have been known to have accidents."

Dalian paled. "You mock me, my lord."

"Do I?"

"I can hardly challenge you," Dalian sputtered. "You would kill me in an instant."

"Your point is well taken," Gareth said. "You are no doubt more clumsy with a sword than I am with a dagger. Mayhap we should remedy that fault."

Dalian's expression was that of the hare which sees the hawk swooping down on him. "What are you talking about?"

"I did not bring a large company of men with me to defend this isle,"

Gareth said. "Not everyone who served me wished to abandon the lucrative business of hunting outlaws in favor of becoming a gardener. Even my squire, Bradford, chose not to accompany me here to Desire."

"I expect hunting outlaws is very exciting," William said wistfully.

"Nay, 'tis a business like any other, although I'll admit it is more precarious than some careers," Gareth said. "And I cannot deny that it pays well, if one is proficient. But then, so does the business of making perfumes."

"Aye." William looked doubtful about equating the two endeavors.

"Tis not the financial aspects of Desire which concern me, however,"

Gareth continued. "That is Lady Clare's business. My task is to see to the safety of these lands and the people who live here. A sound defense requires that every man in this household be well trained in the use of arms."

"Lady Clare says that knights and men-at-arms are a great nuisance to have about underfoot," William said.

"Aye." Dalian sounded a bit bolder now. "Lady Clare doesn't care for men who make their living with their swords. She says her brother, Edmund, died because of his foolish love of tourneying. She says such pursuits are silly and that the sort of men who pursue them are altogether lacking in wits."

Ulrich gave Dalian and William a cool, knowing smile. "Your lady may not be overly fond of fighting men, but she was quick enough to choose a husband she believed to be capable of defending her lands and her people."

"She had no choice," Dalian muttered.

Gareth slanted Ulrich a wry glance. It was the truth and they both knew it. But for some reason, this morning, Gareth discovered that he did not particularly like hearing it voiced aloud.

"Whatever the reasons," Ulrich said, "it would seem that even Lady Clare has some use for a man who can use a sword."

William took another bite of pie. "My mother says that Lady Clare always puts her duty to her people ahead of all else."

"Tis a great pity that Lady Clare must sacrifice herself for the rest of us," Dalian said defiantly. "Tis not right."

"Enough," Gareth said quietly. "What's done is done. It only remains for me to earn my keep. And I intend to do just that."

Dalian scowled warily. "What do you mean?"

"As I said, the defense of these lands requires that every able-bodied man in the household be properly trained."

William munched his pie. "There aren't any able-bodied men in this household other than yourself and your men-at-arms, my lord."

"You look fit enough, William," Gareth said. "And you are, what? Ten years old?"

"Aye."

"Then 'tis past time you began a knight's training. When I was your age, I was already practicing regularly with lance and sword."

"Me? A knight?" William sucked in air and promptly choked on a mouthful of meat pie. "Nay, my lord. Tis not possible." He succumbed to a fit of coughing.

Ulrich strolled across the room and slapped William between the shoulder blades. "The first thing a future knight must learn is how to eat without strangling himself."

William's eyes watered. He sputtered, recovered, and managed to swallow the pie. He drew in several gasping breaths. "Lady Clare and my mother will never allow me to train to be a knight."

"Why not?" Gareth asked.

"I'm delicate."

Dalian glowered at Gareth. "That's right. They'll never allow young William to practice such skills."

"Lady Clare and Lady Joanna need not concern themselves with William's training. Such matters are my responsibility." Gareth eyed Dalian. "What about you, minstrel? How far did your training progress?"

"Huh?"

"Did you learn any useful skills before you took up the harp and began composing irritating ballads about young knights who cuckold their lords?"

Dalian looked seriously alarmed. "My former master was a scholar."

"A scholar?"

"Aye." Dalian's eyes shifted uneasily as though he were searching for a place to hide. "He raised me to assist him with his studies."

"Was he a trained knight?" Gareth asked.

"Aye, a very great knight. He even went on Crusade. But he said there was no point teaching me knightly skills." Dalian's lips trembled. "He said I was a clumsy weakling who could not be taught such things."

"You were raised in a scholar's household?"

"Aye." Dalian wiped his sweating brow on the back of his sleeve.

"Your father sent you to live in this scholar's hall?" Gareth probed.

"My father does not even know that I exist." Dalian jerked his arm back down to his side. "I don't know his name. I am a bastard, sir."

Gareth met Dalian's fierce, anguished gaze and knew the depths of the younger man's fear as well as his rage. "It would seem that you and I have something in common, minstrel."

Dalian clearly did not want to hear that. "At least you know your father's name. Thurston of Landry is a great lord. I know nothing of the man who sired me except that he was a knight on his way to a tourney. He found my mother alone in a field. He raped her and left her pregnant with me. He went on his way and never came back for either of us."

"You are not the only product of such an unpleasant union," Gareth said.

"You must find your own way in the world. At least you will have the satisfaction of knowing that everything you achieve will be won by your own hand. You may well discover that it is useful for a bastard to be able to handle a sword."

"I intend to make my living as a minstrel, or mayhap as a scholar,"

Dalian retorted. "I do not wish to make a career of splitting skulls or fighting other men's battles."

Gareth caught Ulrich's eye. "It would seem that my lady's poor opinion of fighting men has infected the entire household."

Ulrich's smile came and went. "Aye."

"We must see if we can change her mind."

"I'm sure you will find a way to prove yourself useful," Ulrich said.

"You always do."

Gareth returned his attention to Dalian. "Was your mother the one who arranged for you to be fostered in the house of this scholar you mentioned?"

Dalian shook his head. The hunted look reappeared in his eyes. "My mother loved me. She would never have sent me away. But she died when I was eight. Soon afterward my aunt sold me to my master. I mean, my former master."

Gareth frowned. "She sold you to him?"

"Aye." Dalian's mouth tightened. "He gave her several cold coins in exchange for me. He wanted a healthy, intelligent lad, he said. One who could be trained to be his assistant."

"This scholar…" Gareth said slowly, "he was a harsh master?"

Dalian flinched as if he had been struck by a whip. "He does not?I mean, he did not tolerate any mistakes."

"Are you here on Desire because you have run away from his household?"

Gareth asked quietly.

"Nay." Dalian looked terrified now. "Nay, I did not run away. I always obeyed my lord's commands." There was a glazed expression in his eyes.

"Always. But he was never satisfied. Never. I could not please him, although I tried my best. No matter what I did, I could not please him."

William touched Dalian's arm in an awkward gesture. "Remember what Lady Clare said, Dalian."

"Aye." Dalian drew several deep breaths. His eyes refocused.

"What did Lady Clare say?" Gareth asked.

Dalian scowled. The fear in his eyes was gone. "Tis not important."

"She said Dalian was to remember that he was safe now," William explained. "When Dalian first came here, he could not sleep at all at night and he was very anxious."

"That is not true," Dalian hissed.

"Aye, 'tis true." William turned back to Gareth. "Poor Dalian was always jumping at the smallest sounds. I came around the corner once and surprised him in the hall outside Clare's study and he nearly fainted.

Is that not so, Dalian?"

"Say no more." Dalian whirled furiously on William. "That is enough. My health is no concern of Lord Gareth's."

"But it is my concern," Gareth said. "As is the state of the health of every man under my command.

Only men in good health can carry out their duties properly."

"My health is excellent." Dalian raised his chin in open defiance. "And I am not under your command."

"Aye, but you are, as is William." Gareth straightened away from the table. "The first thing we must do is see to your training. Ulrich, take both of these future knights downstairs to the courtyard and get them started in their careers.

William and Dalian are to begin practicing with arms immediately."

"Aye, my lord," Ulrich said. He grinned at William. "Are you ready, lad?"

William looked dazzled. "I am to learn how to use a sword?"

"That you are." Ulrich strode across the room and ruffled William's hair. "And how to care for armor and a good war-horse and how to defend your hall. Do you think you will enjoy learning all that?"

"Aye." William looked up at him with glowing eyes. "I shall enjoy that very much."

"Come along, then." Ulrich glanced at Dalian. "You, too, minstrel."

"Nay, you cannot force us to learn such things." Dalian turned a desperate gaze on Gareth. "Lady Clare will never permit it."

Some of the enthusiasm faded from William's eyes. "He's right, my lord.

Lady Clare will never allow us to begin a knight's training."

"Lady Clare wanted a husband who could see to the defense of her isle,"

Gareth said. "She has got one who can do that. I trust that she has sense enough to allow me to get on with the task."

Clare, are you truly all right?" Joanna looked up from the bunch of lavender and mint that she was binding with a cord.

"Of course I'm all right." Clare stood on tiptoe to hang another fresh bouquet upside down from the overhead drying rack.

The long shed where she and Joanna were working was one of a series of workrooms built against the curtain wall. It was filled with bunches of flowers and herbs in various stages of preparation. Many, such as the lavender and mint, were being allowed to dry. When the process was complete, they would be carefully composed into perfumes according to Clare's recipes.

Some of the complex mixtures made from dried flowers and herbs would be used to fill sweet bags for linen chests. Others would go into small, lidded pots designed to add a pleasant fragrance to chambers. Still others would be combined with oil and honey to create lush perfumes, lotions, and balms.

Clare loved the drying shed. She often walked through it as she did through her garden, delighting in one scent after another. She liked to close her eyes in the midst of the fragrant blossoms and create perfumes in her mind the way Dalian created ballads.

There was a very large bin at the far end of the shed where the dried blossoms and leaves were combined in huge batches. There they were mixed according to Clare's specifications.

Today the bin was heaped full of dried petals from early roses, mugwort, lavender, mint, and rosemary. Clare was still fussing with the concoction, deliberating whether to add cinnamon oil or oil of cloves to fix the scent.

Once she had made her decision, the dried materials would be stuffed into hundreds of small, exquisitely embroidered bags. The sweet bags would be taken to the spring fair in Seabern in a few days, along with the new batch of soaps that was being readied. There they would be sold to eager merchants.

"I have been concerned about you," Joanna said.

"Why?" Clare slung another bunch of lavender onto a drying rack hook.

"There has been gossip all morning in the hall. By now it has no doubt reached the village."

"I am well aware that everyone is overly curious to know the details of my wedding night," Clare muttered, "but I have no intention of discussing it. Some matters are private between husband and wife."

"Clare, you must know that it is not normal for a husband to appear wearing a large white bandage the morning after his wedding." Joanna threw her an exasperated glance. "What really happened last night?"

"'Twas an accident."

"Did you actually use the Hellhound's dagger in an attempt to defend yourself from his embrace?"

"Nay, I most certainly did not. Is that what the gossips are saying?"

Clare demanded.

"Aye." Joanna sighed. "I knew you were not looking forward to the duties of a wife, but I did not believe you would do something so outrageous as to stab your husband on your wedding night. How did you dare?"

"I didn't."

"Lord Gareth must have been furious with you." Joanna shuddered. " Tis a wonder he did not beat you." She frowned in sudden alarm. "Or did he?"

"Do not be ridiculous, Joanna. Do I appear to have been beaten?"

"Nay."

"Do you think that I would tolerate such treatment?"

"Nay, but he is a very large man, Clare. Much bigger than you."

"Do not forget that I have successfully defended myself against large men in the past."

"Aye, but Lord Gareth is not a fool like Sir Nicholas."

"A fact for which I am extremely grateful." Clare glanced over her shoulder. "Joanna, I did not use my husband's dagger against him last night. There was no need. Sir Gareth behaved himself in a most chivalrous fashion."

Clare felt herself grow warm at the memory of how Gareth had cut his own arm in order to protect her from humiliation and gossip. No man had ever done anything so chivalrous for her, not even Raymond de Coleville.

It was unfair that Gareth had become the object of so much sly speculation and rumor today. After his noble actions, he deserved better. Unfortunately, there was no way to explain that to Joanna.

"A juggling accident," Joanna murmured.

"Aye."

"Forgive me, but that is difficult to believe, Clare."

"Ask Lord Gareth yourself, if you do not believe me."

"You know very well that I could never do such a thing. If I did, he would no doubt merely confirm your version of the tale, just as you are confirming his. For some reason the two of you appear to be as one on this matter."

Joanna was right, Clare thought. More right than Clare had even realized until this moment. Somehow, whether he had intended to do so or not, Gareth had succeeded in binding Clare to him in a wholly unexpected fashion.

Together they shared a secret. A most intimate secret. A secret that, in its own way, was as intimate as the manner in which Gareth had touched her last night.

Clare stilled, one hand frozen around a bundle of lavender and roses.

She gazed unseeing at the rows of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling.

It occurred to her that Gareth had no doubt known exactly what he was doing when he had slashed his arm for her. He had likely foreseen everything, including the way in which it would affect her feelings toward him.

He was very good at making carefully calculated gestures, Clare reminded herself. But even allowing for that, this particular gesture had been undeniably gallant. Moreover, it was a gesture that he could not have planned, she thought. Gareth had had no way of knowing about the vials of chicken blood she had been given on her wedding day. He'd come to the bridal bed equipped with his own supply.

Another calculated gesture. And one that had most definitely been well planned.

Whose honor had he really been concerned with last night? Clare wondered. Hers or his own? She still knew very little about the Hellhound.

"By Saint Hermione's nose," she muttered. It was all dangerously confusing.

Joanna glanced out the open door of the drying shed. "Oh, there is William. Heading for the stables, I believe. I vow, he is spending far too much time with Lord Gareth's men, Clare. It worries me."

"I know, Joanna, but I do not think there is any great harm in it."

"Dalian is with him. I wonder what they are about?"

"I have no notion."

"Dear God." Joanna tossed aside the lavender and leaped to her feet.

"Joanna, what wrong?"

"Ranulf and Sir Ulrich have given both William and Dalian shields."

Joanna stood in the doorway, her hand at her throat. "And wooden swords.

Clare, I believe that they are going to give them instruction in swordplay."

"Calm yourself, Joanna. Ulrich and Ranulf are likely just showing them some of the equipment. You know William is very curious about such matters."

"Well, your minstrel is not, but he's out there, too."

"Really?" Clare brushed her hands and walked toward the door of the shed. She peered out into the sunlit yard.

There was no doubt about what was happening. William and Dalian stood awkwardly clutching wooden shields and swords. William looked excited.

Dalian looked angry and resentful.

Clare saw Gareth stroll out of the hall onto the steps to watch the lesson.

Ranulf raised his shield and spoke to William, who eagerly hefted his wooden blade and delivered a fierce blow to Ranulf's shield.

Joanna shrieked. She spun about and gave Clare a stricken look. "Tis obvious Lord Gareth has ordered William and Dalian to be trained with arms. You must stop this at once, Clare, I beg of you."

"I do not think it will do any great harm, Joanna."

"My son is much too delicate for such training. You must stop this at once."

"Uh?"

"Clare, do something. You are the lady of this hall. Tell them to cease this dangerous nonsense."

Clare glanced at Gareth. She had an unpleasant suspicion that the whole situation was out of her hands.

It was that realization which abruptly strengthened her resolve. She was mistress of Desire, she reminded herself. She gave the commands here.

"I shall speak to Ranulf and Sir Ulrich at once." Clare picked up the skirts of her gown and strode purposefully out into the courtyard.