The Blue Falcon Read online

  It very often happened that a lass barely blooming, her young body physically prepared for childbirth, or nearly so, was given in wedlock to a man. Not a gangling youth who had never tasted womanflesh, but more often an older man, one well advised. The lack of emotional readiness for such a union usually left the maid at a disadvantage, and that first coupling was anything but delightful.

  Such could not be the case with Chandra. Within her heart there was a base yearning for a man, for his caress and his kiss. She cursed herself for the fantasies she indulged in just prior to sleep, when the curtain of reality was just beginning to blend into the dream world; when her own arms wrapped around her could become the arms of her knight. She could imagine perfectly every muscle and curve of his body, and she knew instinctively how his tall form would fit against her smaller body.

  But in these blissful moments, he was as hungry for her as she for him. In reality this was not the case.

  As Christmastide drew nearer, more and more rich gifts arrived for Edwina. Conan courted her well. Edwina’s spirits were high and she seemed much in love--or at least in love with the attention.

  To watch him from afar and try as I might to still my longing, Chandra thought in near despair. That is all I can do.

  Chandra sighed, her thoughts never changing and her disposition never improving. She abandoned the biting cold for the warmth of the hall, thinking as she went, Would that I could have been the firstborn, then there would be no choice. And then...

  She warmed a cup of milk with a hot poker from the fire and sat near the hearth, absorbing the heat. Locked in her heart was a love so strong it burned brighter every day. And every day the inevitable marriage of her sister to the man she longed for drew nearer.

  “You seem not even a part of this world,” came the voice of Medwin.

  Chandra jumped in surprise and looked up at her father. She smiled at him fondly.

  “Do you think I have not noticed your low spirits, lass? Are your troubles so many?”

  “Oh, nay,” she replied, smiling and reaching for his hand. “I always miss Mother most when the cold is here. I remem­ber when we’d sit before the fire and do our sewing--all of us--and we would talk of so many things. Women’s things. It seems the winters are colder now.” Her voice became softer and drifted off. When no response came from Medwin, she looked up to see the old gray eyes looking off into some distant place.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I know you miss her too.”

  “Aye, the winters were not so cold then.”

  “Spring will be here soon. The flowers will bloom and--”

  The old gray eyes took light. “And Edwina will be wed. Ah, it will be a glad day when I welcome Alaric’s son into my family. A glad day!”

  Chandra looked into her lap and nodded.

  “Have you seen what new gift he has sent? A mare of fine lineage came for her just this morn, a gift from Stoddard. All the finest horses are raised there, and the one for his lady is among the finest.”

  Chandra frowned. “Edwina has never been much for horses,” she said quietly.

  “Perhaps that will change when she is married to Conan. She must learn to keep pace with her husband. Conan is a man of great energy.”

  “Do you think it possible, Father?”

  “Aye, I think she will manage. Since these many gifts have been arriving she seems brighter, livelier. Yea, marriage to a man as fine and strong as Conan may serve as a healing balm for Edwina.”

  “She will be well cared for--” Chandra started.

  “I had hoped for a match for Conan from my house. In truth, I had not thought of Edwina and knew not Laine--”

  Chandra stared at her father with her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide. She was half afraid of what he might say. He chucked her under the chin.

  “I thought in one more summer I would speak to Alaric about you. Your temperament and hardy fitness seemed a like match for Conan. But the lad surprised me with his choice and--”

  “By the heel of Satan!” she cursed. One more summer!

  “What say you, lass?” He frowned.

  “Nothing, Father. Only that I wish the star-struck knight could have given me one more summer. I would not have argued against you.”

  He raised one brow. “I had not thought you ready to take a husband. Do you tell me now that you wish to be wed?”

  “Nay, but that I could have been ready for that one,” she said, pouting. “And I will tell you that I think I would have been a far better choice than the one made!”

  Medwin’s frown deepened. “Do you covet what is your sister’s?” he asked slowly and sternly.

  Chandra dropped her head. “Nay, Father. I am pleased for Edwina.”

  “We do not speak of a frock or bauble, Chandra. We speak of a man and woman in marriage. Tis a serious sin to find your heart cast to a man thus committed.”

  “Yea,” she murmured, her guilt and frustration wrenching her insides.

  “I am indebted to Lady Udele for bringing our children together. I had not aspired to so much. Conan’s reputation is firm in England and France, and I half expected him to bring a duke’s daughter home to wed. Surely he could have had more--”

  Chandra looked at Medwin in awe. “Udele?” Chandra questioned softly.

  “Aye, Lady Udele was quick to see that joined together our lands would make a greater power.” Medwin shrugged. “It is a thing I’ve known for a very long time, but Conan expressed no interest in my oldest daughter. All he needed was a word from his mother and a soft smile from Edwina. Where is the need for faraway lands, however rich? Now he will rule over a large holding in his own England.”

  Chandra’s throat ached and tears welled under clenched lids. She could not pretend that it didn’t matter, for her whole dream seemed crushed. However important the consideration of lands and wealth, Edwina was not strong enough or wise enough. She could never love him enough!

  Medwin lifted her chin and gave a rather perplexed look at his daughter’s tears. He questioned her with his eyes.

  “Conan needs a woman of strength and spirit to help him prosper,” she heard herself say. “A woman with as much strength and spirit as he has! Father, how can you think this a good match when I--”

  “Chandra!” Medwin snarled.

  The door to the keep burst open, and, with a gust of wind that sent his dark blue mantle billowing, the intruder stepped inside. Soft leather boots were strapped tightly to his legs, covering to the knee his blue chausses. A red tunic covered chain mail, and his helm was still resting in one gauntleted hand. He gave the door a lusty kick to close it, and there he stood, feet braced apart and his hand on his hip. His white teeth gleamed from behind his dark beard.

  Chandra’s mouth formed his name, though silently. “Conan.”

  Medwin was more verbal, and his smile nearly matched Sir Conan’s. “Conan! Here! We could not have known you would come! We would have set a boar to roast had we known.”

  “I could not send word ahead, my lord,” he apologized. “I did not think I could be spared from my duties, but I have wrestled away a few days and thought to spend them here, with my bride and her family.”

  “She will be delighted! Honored! You have ridden so far and through this hateful weather--for Edwina! A fine son you will make!”

  Chandra’s hand flew to her mouth to still an outraged cry. Her feet took her quickly to the stair, and with tears flowing in spite of her efforts to stop them, she fled the room.

  Conan looked aghast as she flew past him, her pretty face streaked with tears and her glorious hair bouncing down her back as she ran up the stairs. He cast a confused look toward Medwin. “My lord?”

  “‘Twas not of your doing, lad,” Medwin said, shaking his head in disappointment.

  “She seems heartbroken,” Conan said.

  “Aye, it would seem. You should be aware, since you will have to deal with this. The lass had her own ideas for a bride for you.”

  “Chandra?” he
questioned.

  “Ah, she plays at this now. She is young.” He laughed suddenly. “And what lass doesn’t set her sights on you? You are young, strong, rich! And a fine figure of a man. Many, I am sure, will have to give their hearts time to mend when you have spoken your vows to Edwina. ‘Tis the way of life.”

  Conan looked at the memory of Chandra fleeing up the stair, and with a somewhat melancholy voice he said, “The way of life.”

  “ Tis not like her to begrudge her sister’s happiness. In truth she is often the one to take extra chores upon herself so that Edwina can be lesser burdened. She has often given up something she loves to satisfy another’s craving. Aye, a generous lass. I am sorry you had to see her selfish jealousy this once.”

  Conan looked up the stair, a strained expression on his face. He had barely had a moment to notice Chandra, but she had seemed even more beautiful than before, if that was possible. Suddenly, the moments she stood before him at his pavilion months earlier were quite clear in his mind--her glowing eyes, her lustrous hair and her captivating smile. Aye, little more than a child then, but blossoming into womanhood in a most alluring way. He cursed himself then for looking at one so young with such carnal thoughts, but he remembered well the dip his heart had taken. It was the same little lurch he felt just now when Medwin confessed that Chandra desired him. He had not felt that for his betrothed. He thought her fine and good and lovely, but there had been no passion stirring in his blood.

  “She is young and lovely,” he heard himself say. “She will make a man a good bride.”

  “Aye, and I will see that matter done after you and Edwina are wed. A horn of good ale, lad, and a toast to the spring and your wedding.”

  “Aye,” Conan said with a smile, taking the proffered cup and imitating Medwin, though a little less enthusiastically. “To the spring--and the wedding.”

  ***

  With the bloom of the roses and lilies, the blossoms of the pear and apple trees, Phalen saw the arrival of many guests: the prestigious lords and ladies who would witness the wedding of Sir Conan and Lady Edwina.

  Though Medwin’s hall was not small and could accommo­date many for meals and revelry, trestle tables were set in the gardens, for Phalen would flaunt the flowers and blooming fruit trees that filled the air with a soft romantic scent.

  About the village, seeds were sown for lettuce, melons, cresses, beets and onions. The humble folk no longer hid within the walls of their huts, but came out to hang the wash and weed their gardens, lingering for long periods over these tasks to converse with their neighbors. Bakers pulled their carts about the streets, and washwomen hummed as they hefted their heavy baskets from tub to line.

  Within the hamlet the people chattered about the upcom­ing wedding, for the simple serfs were as enchanted by this union as the lordly guests were. Tales of Sir Conan’s feats in battle were well known, and his most recent occupation of Stoddard was one of the favorite stories. His choice of bride, the frail and genteel lady of Phalen, pleased one and all. Gossip surrounding the clothes sewn for Edwina and the gems the family would gift her with were as important as Conan’s technique in wresting Stoddard Keep from the usurper’s hands. Everywhere, from castle to town, there was buzzing over this noble couple. Many times Chandra wanted to cover her ears with her hands and run screaming from their voices.

  Chandra’s birthday was over and she had passed four and ten. Had there not been so much ado over Edwina’s wedding, more notice might have been taken of the fuller breasts and long slender legs that appeared on this young maiden. Some voices broke from the preoccupation with the wedding to remark, as Chandra passed, that she had locked herself away within the keep for the winter and emerged a woman. But Chandra heard none of that. She heard only the praises attesting to Edwina’s petite beauty and her likeness to their beloved Millicent.

  Within the great walls of a nobleman’s castle there is no protection from the realities of life. Chandra had known about the coupling of a man and woman for many years. She had already given assistance to women in childbirth. Most of her childhood companions were already wed to her father’s men-at-arms or bowmen or village farmers and apprentices.

  While she envied them their round bellies, they envied the delicacy of decision over the marriage contract of a nobly born woman.

  Cordell was the prize Chandra would dangle before her suitors. It was not nearly as rich as Phalen. It had belonged to Millicent and to Millicent’s mother, managed by women for many years. Medwin had given his wife a free hand to manage her dower lands, and when Chandra married, the contract would be the same.

  Chandra had been reared to manage Cordell, for it had been decided long ago that Phalen would be Edwina’s, Laine would take money as her dowry to the church, and Cordell would belong to Chandra. She knew every detail of the estate by heart. It was not a rich castle or wealthy village and had been maintained more as a retreat than a fortress. There was ample protection, but Cordell did not house a grand army.

  Early in her youth when she would see Conan at celebra­tions during days of feasting and hunting, she had seen herself one day being his bride. He would have rich holdings, his own men-at-arms and stout walls, and Cordell would remain her haven. But now that that dream was crushed, she would attempt the next best possibility. She hoped to persuade her father to allow her Cordell and freedom from matrimony. What difference, after all, did marriage make to her right to manage her own dower lands? She would not bear children, but she would gladly allow the lineage from Conan and Edwina to inherit. A niece, perhaps. She doubted she could be a good wife to any man--now.

  Cordell protected fewer than two thousand English com­moners. It was mainly a fishing village, but there was fertile land surrounding its other sides. In many ways it was a paradise. The people were well fed and healthy, which was a rarity in most of England’s small burghs. It did not lie in a path of destruction when armies traveled through the coun­try. To the east side the keep was built along a high and dangerous section of coastline, perched atop some rugged rocks. It was even too much trouble for the barbarous Vikings, when other ports were more easily conquered.

  To the other sides just past the farmland was a forest so dense that to travel south to London one had to venture first north to Colchester to find the passable land routes. Except in the little bit of wood closest to the keep, only those with the king’s permission were allowed to hunt. And it was no dandy wood where children ran and played; it was a dense, thick jungle filled with wild game ranging from rabbits to wild boar. If an opposing army chose to attack Cordell, they would have to enter by the only road or spend weeks clearing a path through the wood. Marshes and gullies lay hidden, and the overgrowth was so thick that in many places the sunlight did not touch the ground.

  Cordell had a clean, freshly scrubbed look, and the keep was bright and airy. There were large open courtyards, and the flowers seemed to bloom longer, the fruit trees seemed to yield more, and the people were industrious yet unhurried.

  Chandra longed for Cordell. In the midst of her sister’s wedding, it would have been a blessed solace to be there.

  There was no quiet to be found in all of Phalen. The arriving guests had made even the once-quiet gardens a flurry of activity. In the courtyard several men participated in javelin-throwing contests, and others prepared for a hunt. The women filled every corner and cubicle with sewing circles aimed at exchanging gossip.

  She knew that with the wedding but a few days away she must press her way into Edwina’s crowded bedchamber and make herself available to her sister, or later endure her father’s wrath.

  As she passed the many fussing women, one of her fears vanished. She needn’t face Edwina’s happiness, for in the farthest corner of the room, Edwina slumped in a chair. Her hand was resting on her brow and her eyes were closed. One maid passed her a cool cloth to hold to her face while another fanned her.

  “Edwina, are you ill?” Chandra asked.

  “Nay, dear heart,” Edwina repl
ied weakly. “The room has become--so--close...”

  “A quiet moment will do you well,” Chandra advised.

  “I will be fine in a moment,” Edwina answered.

  “Let us send the ladies away, Edwina. They can see your gifts another time. You need rest and quiet.”

  “I’ve promised them, dear,” Edwina sighed. “They have come so far, and all they ask is to see my gifts and gowns.”

  “You cannot entertain them if your head aches. Invite them to breakfast with you tomorrow. That will do as well.”

  Edwina shook her head. “I will be fine in a moment. I have not the heart to disappoint them. They have come so far and bring so many lovely--”

  “Edwina, if you press yourself beyond your endurance, you will not see your wedding day. Now, you have no wish to be sick abed when it is time to speak your vows. Never mind. I will do it for you.”

  Chandra turned and sighed with impatience as she looked around the room. A stronger woman would swoon in the presence of such fussing and tittering. Without further hesita­tion, she approached some of the ladies in the room. She tactfully begged them to excuse her sister for a brief rest and promised every one she would have a chance to see the many fine things.

  Chandra’s forthright manner would not accept disfavor or impertinence from any of them, and they did not show her anything less than understanding. With smiles of considera­tion and a few frowns of concern, the busy ladies departed the chamber and left Edwina and Chandra in peace and quiet.

  Edwina did not open her eyes. She sighed, pressing the cool, damp cloth to her brow. Chandra drew a stool near, feeling some sympathy for Edwina and pity for the fact that she could endure very little strain. Chandra shook her head. “I do not know how you will manage,” she said so softly that Edwina did not hear.

  “Already my head ceases to ache,” Edwina sighed, open­ing her eyes and smiling at her sister.

  “I think you must take these wedding parties in smaller drafts,” Chandra suggested. “It will do you no good to make yourself ill. Have you eaten?”

  “I am not very hungry, dear,” Edwina replied. “A short rest will cure all my ills.”