The Blue Falcon Read online

  “No harm done,” Chandra murmured.

  “Is that your reason for tears?” he asked with sincerity.

  “Worry not over my moods, Sir Conan. Maids are often silly and given to foolish giggling or crying.”

  He smiled faintly and shook his head. A warm feeling possessed him as he looked at her in the moonlight. He felt smitten as a virgin lad on the one hand, and a brotherly pride on the other. “But you are not a silly maid, Chandra. I have known you since you were a little girl and even then you would not cry easily. I think if you have tears, they must be hard earned.” His expression changed slightly and he looked at her closely. “Has someone done you harm, Chandra? Has some ill-mannered oaf brought you to this spot and treated you unkindly? Taking advantage--”

  “Sir Conan! ‘Tis most unseemly of you to be so concerned with my virtue! Nay, there was no one. I wish to heaven there had been.”

  “I rather assume there will be many, if there are not already,” he replied rather sullenly. “You will be sorely set upon, and wandering alone in the gardens late at night will make you easy prey.”

  “I am not wandering. I wanted to be alone. As to the many men: they will court my father for my dower estate, and no interested man will dare treat me ill with that prize in the balance.”

  “Still, you should take greater care.”

  “Strange that you show concern,” she threw back at him. The fool, she thought. I want no part of his brotherly affection. “Wouldn’t your efforts be better spent seeing to Edwina’s virtue?”

  He laughed at her and leaned back against the tree. “Her virtue is the most guarded in all Christendom. I dare not steal a kiss lest her women fall on us and whisk her away to her bedchamber.”

  Chandra could not resist an adolescent pout. “She seemed the eager bride in the hall tonight.”

  “Did she now?” he replied, looking at the ground and giving a rock a kick with his toe. “Aye, I suppose she did. But her head began to ache and the day proved too tiresome.”

  “Too tiresome!” she cried. At the very moment the words left her mouth, she felt the hot sting of tears again. She wanted to scream and stomp her feet, but faced with her sister’s betrothed she could say nothing.

  “I know it must be hard for you to watch Edwina shine in the wake of your hard work,” he said consolingly.

  She groaned and turned away from him, clenching her fists and grinding her teeth. Oh, that was the least of it!

  “But I know there is more that causes you pain,” he said from behind her, his hands holding on to her upper arms as if he would not allow her to turn and face him.

  “Oh, you are a fool,” she sighed.

  “Am I a fool, damsel?” he said in a low voice. “Tell me. How am I a fool?”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks and she knew the battle lost. She could not contain herself. She was grateful that her back was to him, but he was very near. Too near to give her comfort. “How did you not see that I sought you out, bold though it was, as a proper betrothed? I prayed you would take notice of me as a woman deserving--”

  “I noticed,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you were so very young.” It was more of a sigh than a statement.

  She rambled, forgetting herself. “Edwina never made mention that she was interested. She was so very near to a proper betrothal to Tedric, and we all thought it would be only days before my father would give his consent and the matter would be done. Never, never would I have come to your pavilion that day had I known you would take Edwina! Oh, Conan,” she sobbed, trying to turn to look at him. He held her fast, keeping her back toward him.

  His voice was soft in her ear. “Two beautiful sisters both desire me and I am the last to know.” He laughed a bit ruefully. “Do you know, cherie, how many men pray for this problem?”

  She hung her head dejectedly. She could not bear to have him pity her, or worse, laugh at her. “I thought it quite sensible,” she said, controlling her voice better now and wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I swore a thousand times I would never tell you, but since I was a child I have watched you, learning your habits, understanding your ways. When you chased me and teased me,” she said, her voice catching, “I was determined, even then, that someday--Oh! You must think me so foolish!”

  “Nay, fair Chandra. I am sorry you are hurt.”

  “Tis no fault of yours,” she sighed. “I will not embarrass you again, have no fear.”

  “You were so young then,” he repeated, a melancholy note to his voice. “If only I could have known. If I could have been more patient. I could not have known I would regret this day.”

  “Jesu!” she gasped. She tried to turn to look at him, but he held her fast.

  “Do not turn, lady. Be still.”

  Startled by his request she stood as still as stone, the pressure where his hands held her upper arms sending shivers through her. He did not want her to face him. What would she see? A pained look in his eyes? A tear? She waited and listened.

  “God forgive me,” he said. “I feel wretched!”

  “Say not another word,” she begged.

  “And what are we to do, Chandra? Pretend we have not spoken? Pretend these words have not passed between us? Can I look at you now and not see a woman who loves me? Will you be blind to what you see in my eyes?”

  A part of her was shamed at her own impetuous tongue and another part swelled with pride. He did not think her a foolish maid. What she felt was real and mirrored his feelings.

  “Do you know what binds a man?” he asked. “Not pretty parties and the number of maids who desire him. It is honor! Oath! The code of chivalry that I have pledged to keep. My promise, my word, is my life. If I have erred, I pray God gives me the courage to live with my mistake as a man would and not whimper like a babe in arms.”

  Chandra’s eyes were dry and the pain was gone from her chest. The necessity that she accept this marriage between Conan and Edwina washed over her like a warm bath. Conan did not take these words lightly. He was a leader of men, a lord over lands. The slightest mark against his name would bring him trouble. If his word could not be believed, who would trust him to lead them into battle?

  “Yea, my lord,” she murmured. “Your promise has been given. I love my sister true and wish her no ill. You shall never again hear complaint from my lips, and your chivalry will not allow you to bring your sorrows to my ears.”

  His lips, so close to her ear, brought his words in a whisper. “Walk away from me. Quickly.” The grip on her arms slackened and she was free of his hold.

  The first step took the greatest strength, but with every additional step her resolve became firmer. She prayed he would not so much as speak her name to draw her back.

  The night was dark and the stars shone brightly. The scents from the garden were intoxicating, the air cool and comfort­able, with the slightest breeze stirring. Conan watched her go. With every step she took away from him, he prayed she would not turn. If she turned to him now he knew his oath would mean nothing.

  Chapter 5

  The witching hour came and went. The petals of the flowers were closed against the night, and the moon, barely a sliver, did not give much light. The gardens of Phalen Castle lay quiet and still. Not a whisper was heard within the great walls of the keep, for hardly a man could raise his head since the drinking ceased. Only the occasional bark of a hound or the song of the night bird could be heard.

  Another knight now leaned against the tree that earlier had supported Sir Conan. Deep in the garden where no one from a castle wall or window could see, Sir Mallory waited. He idly struck a twig against his thigh as his mind turned over in consideration of his deed.

  His ears were pricked by a slight stirring on the garden path. He would know every sound alien to the night, and even if he had been sleeping soundly he would have roused to any noise out of place. He turned in the direction of the approaching intruder.

  Edythe stopped when she saw him and paused a moment to behold him.
That he was there at all caused her heart to jump. With three quick steps she was in his arms.

  Mallory had lectured himself long and hard on the inadvisability of touching her or letting her touch him. But as she came through the shrubs, looking so like an angel in her pale white dressing gown, her feet bare and her dark hair trailing loose down her back, his arms received her when he would have willed it otherwise.

  Good sense was abandoned as he held her against him, his hands caressing the silky tresses of her hair, his head filling with the heady scent of her. It was with great reluctance that he released her.

  “I was afraid you would not come,” she breathed.

  “Edythe, I should not have come. This is very dangerous.”

  “I perceive no danger, sir knight. As I see it, the very worst that could come of this is my father could force us into wedlock.” She laughed softly. “He would be surprised at my meager reluctance.”

  “You have seen precious little of the real world in your guarded home. If it did not please your father to see us wed, he could have me banished or even killed, and you sent to the convent. And it would be called justice.”

  “Do not talk,” she pleaded. “Hold me.”

  He sighed wearily. “That is dangerous as well. Edythe, do you not see? I have lived over thirty years. Had I the inclination or the opportunity, I could have fathered a child of your years. And I have known too many women. I do not have the patience to hold a virgin lass. You cause me great pain with your persistence.”

  Her smile was sweet and soft. “But you came.”

  “Yea, but I do not think it wise.”

  “But you force this upon us. Court me openly and let us see the truth to their reluctance. Would my brother oppose you as a just mate for me? Would my father, your beloved friend, banish you for loving me? Yea, let us see.”

  He grabbed her by the arms. “You once gave your word you would confide in no one. I hold you to your word even now. You promised me.”

  “Aye, Mallory, and yet I keep my word. But you are foolish to force this secrecy upon us. Your efforts would be better spent in finding us a way to marry.”

  “There is nothing more impossible. Would that it could happen simply and with your family’s blessing, but I promise you, it cannot.”

  He had said the word impossible many times, but this time Edythe smiled and touched his arm. This time he had finally said he desired marriage with her. “Though you would have me believe otherwise, sir knight, I know you love me.”

  Mallory’s face was twisted with his frustration. He turned away and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. Edythe stood with hands folded in front of her and studied the broad expanse of his back as she had often done in the past. For a long time she had watched this friend of her brother’s, studying his mannerisms and examining his frame to the smallest detail. The slightness of her own form made his seem even more powerful.

  His lack of lands and power might make him less desirable to another maid, but this in part added to his flavor in her eyes. He was not bound by family ties nor was he a slave to prosperity. His spirit seemed so free and laced with a certain wildness. He had not been raised within the cold and protective confines of a mighty castle but knew the way to live with naught but his knife. He knew not only the ways of lords and princes, but the laws of the land and nature. He could boast that everything he possessed had come of his own hard labors and was never the gift of another man. He had known more of life in his thirty years than many men would know in sixty.

  Perhaps too much. Perhaps he had seen the cruel acts of too many nobles. Even though he lived now as a part of their circle, did he still hold them above himself and not dare think of himself as an equal because of his landless state? She knew it was a thing she could not help him with, but a challenge he must meet on his own.

  “I said, I know you love me, Mallory.”

  He turned back to her. He looked at her for a long moment, and with great impatience in his voice he answered her. “Yea, I love thee,” he whispered. “More than I allowed I could,” he said even more softly.

  “Do you not see this as a beginning?”

  “I cannot see the beginning, nor can I see the end. ‘Twould be a simple matter to deal with your infatuation if I felt nothing, but I see years of futile wanting, ages of hopeless yearnings, and that is not what I wish for you. You should not be cast to secret meetings that come to naught. You should be properly wed to a baron or rich knight, not scampering about bushes late at night for as little as a kiss from a penniless mercenary.”

  “You are not a heathen mercenary,” she breathed. “A knight of Henry!”

  “How do you think I began? Not as Sir Conan, son of a fine lord with money to buy my armor and a noble teacher such as Theodoric.”

  “Matters not to me,” she said, lifting her chin. “You are a knight of Henry now.”

  “Compared to the men who will ask for you, I am nothing. And you are here in the darkness against your parents’ will, tempting me with your hopes and dreams of things that can never be!”

  “But this is where I want to be,” she said softly.

  She caressed his chest with her hands, and with a groan he took her in his arms again, covering her mouth hungrily. He heard her sigh joyously, and he hated himself and her for this emotion that enslaved them. He wished that she would flee from him, declare her hatred for him, so that the agony would end. But if she left him he thought he might die. He ached and trembled with the urge to find a grassy bed and become part of her, but instead he softened his grasp and tilted her back so that he might look into her eyes.

  “Do not turn me away, my love,” she pleaded softly. “If you want me, claim me before the world.”

  “Edythe, sweet maid--”

  “Your head turns with worry when you should be working plans and methods. There is yet time, for my father will not press marriage upon me too soon. And if it cannot be, let us make a home in the deepest forest and hide us there forever.”

  He touched the ivory softness of her cheek, making a line to her fine, strong jaw with fingers that were rough from many toils. He smiled at her loveliness, admiring the bright, determined green eyes. “I am glad for you that you have not seen the many truths that cause pain. I am glad that you are still driven by hope. I will pray earnestly that life does not rob you of your good faith.”

  “Tell me that you will hope.”

  “I cannot prevent it.”

  “Tell me you will try to find the way.”

  “I will try.”

  He lifted her chin with a finger and placed a kiss upon her lips. Though he wanted much more of her, he set her from him. “We’ve taken enough chances for one night. Go back to your bed.”

  “Will you meet me once more? Once more before you leave?”

  He thought better of it, but he nodded his assent. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close, trying to keep the sensation of his arms about her to take with her to bed. She would have lingered into the night, but he turned her about, giving her a little push from behind. There was no further argument. Within moments she had disappeared from sight.

  Mallory leaned against the faithful tree and sighed. God must curse me for the things I am thinking, he thought passionately. And when enough time had passed since her departure, he too made his way out of the garden.

  From the shrubs on the opposite side of the great oak there came a rustling. A man pulled himself to his feet and clambered out of the protective bushes and onto the garden path. Tedric faced the old oak and bowed.

  “You must be the most well-informed piece of tree in all this kingdom,” he said. “I vow you know more secrets than Merlin. I would stay and hear yet another lover’s story, but my head grows soft.” He laughed and slapped the ancient oak in apparent friendship. “I had not thought sharing a night with you would be so informative.”

  Whistling, he left the garden.

  ***

  All thought it a good omen that the
day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. The bride and groom fasted and confessed, repeated their vows with solemnity, and rose to accept the blessings of the many witnesses.

  The common folk found the wedding a fine excuse for celebrating. The village was alive with games, dancing, singing and laughter. Sir Medwin provided a huge amount of food for their feasting, and before the afternoon had worn on, the bride and groom paraded through the streets. Rose petals were scattered at their feet and the noble couple threw coins to the villeins. All thought them a perfect pair, the handsome groom and the bright, fair beauty of his bride, the lady of Phalen.

  Alaric and Medwin showed no restraint in their celebrat­ing. The old friendship held stronger bonds, and they toasted the bride and groom and the union of their lands as brothers would. Sir Theodoric was not to be left out of the kinship. He joined them with his horn full also and indicated his youngest son, Tedric, who had seemingly cornered Chandra and was in the act of charming her. All three looked in that direction and noted Chandra’s bright smile. The aging lords put their heads together and raised their horns to drink to the possibility.

  Tedric was not ignorant of women and he knew the way to court a maid. He entertained Chandra first with many tributes to her loveliness and then with humorous remem­brances from his youth and travels. Though she seemed somewhat saddened earlier in the day, her spirit was lighter now. He took it as a positive sign.

  “I vow your wedding will follow soon. Tell me, maid Chandra, how soon must I return to witness it?”

  “Not too soon, I hope, for there is no groom,” she returned.

  “I don’t believe you. I had heard at least a score waited in line to speak to Medwin.”

  She giggled lightly. “I promise you, I cannot name one. But my father grows tired of his house full of women. Laine goes to her calling soon, and he will be rid of me as soon as he can.”

  Tedric’s smile vanished and he looked at her seriously. “Is there no man, Chandra? No one who has crept silently in­to your heart to abide there, waiting only for you to claim him?”