Word of Honor (Knights of Valor Book 1) Page 15

  “Why?”

  “You mustn’t allow any of the old herbs you used to remain on the surface and mix with your new creation. A wise healer always cleans her vessels well.”

  Merryn laid out the first batch of dried herbs to grind. “Place some in the mortar. Fill it about halfway to start.”

  Alys did as asked and gave her a hopeful look. “May I try it?”

  “You may.”

  Alys began concentrating on her task, her movements careful and methodical. She was a thoughtful child and never wanted to disappoint anyone, least of all her mother.

  “My lady?”

  Merryn glanced up. Tilda stood in the doorway.

  “Your brother and wife have arrived. They are most eager to see you and the master.”

  “Ah, so Hugh has returned and read my missive. Please escort them to the solar.”

  “I have done so, my lady.”

  “Then bring us wine and fruit.” She turned to her daughter. “Set the mortar and pestle aside. Cover it with a cloth. We will return to our lesson later this afternoon.”

  “Mayhap Milla came for us to help her weeping eyes?”

  “’Tis possible, but I think she and Hugh are here to visit with your father. He is with Diggory looking at the rent monies most recently gathered. Have him come to the solar.”

  “May I ask him about making me a sword?” pleaded Alys.

  “Of course.” She smoothed the girl’s hair and then gave her a nudge. Alys skipped away, once again humming to herself.

  Merryn hurried along until she reached the private quarters. She opened the door to find Hugh and Milla seated, watching Ancel wave his wooden sword around. They both clapped at his antics. She saw the wistful look on Milla’s face.

  “’Tis wonderful to see you both,” she proclaimed. She caught Ancel’s sword hand and lowered it to his side. “Enough entertaining your aunt and uncle. Run along now and let Alys practice on you.”

  Ancel’s face lit up. “What shall I have this time, Mother? A broken leg?”

  Merryn thought a moment. “Nay. Tell her you are going bald. And that you have a raging fever. Let me know how she decides to care for you.”

  Her son grinned his goodbye and raced from the room.

  “I believe that boy is in constant motion.” Hugh rose and greeted her with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek. “And your news, Merryn. Christ’s Wounds! I returned from London to your astounding message. We came straight away once I opened and read it. Did Geoffrey rise from the dead? What—”

  “I shall be brief, for he may come in at any moment.” Merryn decided to keep with what she had told others, though she felt guilty lying to her brother. “He suffered a most grievous head injury and knows not where he has been. It appears he has suffered much before he gained his way back to Kinwick. I would rather you not address his time away, Brother. We are concentrating on rejoicing at his return instead.”

  Hugh frowned at her explanation but did not question her further, thanks to Geoffrey bursting through the door, a wide smile upon his face.

  “Hugh!” he cried. The two men met and embraced, their hands beating each other’s back till Merryn felt they would be bruised for life.

  Hugh pulled away first. “I have someone you must meet.” He turned and took the hand Milla offered him. She rose and came to stand before Geoffrey.

  “’Tis Milla, my wife, and my heart’s delight,” Hugh declared. “And bursting with good news, I might add.”

  Merryn’s eyes widened. “Are you-” She stopped and glanced at her sister-in-law’s belly, slightly rounded under her cote-hardie.

  “Yes!” Milla declared with delight, throwing her hands into the air.

  Merryn clung to her, both women weeping openly with tears of joy.

  “I feared ‘twould never happen, but I am finally with child.”

  “’Tis a miracle from God Almighty,” said Hugh. He placed an arm about his wife. His hand rested against her belly. “And we pray for a healthy child. Girl or boy. It matters not.”

  “My congratulations to you both,” Geoffrey offered. “First, I’m a father. And now a soon-to-be uncle.”

  “Do you know when the babe might come?” asked Merryn.

  Milla shrugged. “In late autumn, most likely.” She paused. “I shall seek advice from you, Merryn, since you have been through this before.”

  Geoffrey’s arm went round her waist and pulled her to him, a gleam in his eye. “I hope that my sweet wife will again find herself in a family way before too long.” He dropped a kiss onto her temple. “If the Christ be willing, I would ask for half a dozen more children.”

  Merryn grinned up at him. “Only half a dozen, my lord? Surely, I can accommodate you with at least a good dozen, if not more. Especially if I have them two at a time, as I did the twins.”

  Her husband tossed back his head and roared with laughter at her outrageous words. Then he gave her a heated look and rewarded her with a passionate, lingering kiss.

  “Wife, I believe they may begin this work before our very eyes,” she heard Hugh tease.

  Merryn pulled away from Geoffrey a moment. She punched her brother in the arm. Hard.

  Then returned to her husband’s arms for another sizzling kiss.

  She ended the kiss and said, “Tilda should be here soon with wine and fruit. Now let us sit and discuss this new babe-to-be, the king’s upcoming visit, and the earl of Winterbourne’s upcoming wedding.”

  As they gathered around the table, Tilda arrived and poured out wine for everyone. While the servant did so, Geoffrey slipped her hand into his.

  He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “We shall see about making our own babe tonight, my love.”

  Merryn shivered with anticipation.

  CHAPTER 26

  Geoffrey stood in the training yard, watching his captain of the guard put the men through their paces. Word of Merryn’s proposed tournament during the king’s visit had leaked out, and every knight wanted to prove his prowess in front of Edward and the royal court.

  Gilbert strode over to him, a satisfied look upon his face.

  “You have done well for yourself, Gilbert,” Geoffrey told the man. “I can see why Father promoted you to head of his guard.”

  “Lord Ferand was good to me, my lord. He watched me rise through the ranks and rewarded me with the post.”

  “’Twas much deserved. I remember though you were but half a score older than I, I always tried to emulate you in warfare and manners. I know you have been a good influence on the men here at Kinwick, especially during my absence. I thank you for your service.”

  The knight bowed his head in respect. “’Tis good to have you back, my lord.”

  They stood watching the various pairs duel for several minutes until noise on the wall-walk distracted them. Geoffrey saw that the sentry on duty seemed excited as he called out to them. The two men hurried over to hear what news he bore.

  “What say you?” Geoffrey called up.

  “’Tis the king’s colors in the distance,” the soldier replied. “But yet a lone rider.”

  Geoffrey waved his acknowledgement and set out for the front gate. Gilbert fell into step with him.

  “’Tis most likely a messenger from the king, informing Lady Merryn to be prepared,” Gilbert shared. “The king has sent someone ahead on both his previous visits to give fair warning that his party would soon descend upon Kinwick.”

  “I suppose that allows the kitchens plenty of time to prepare. I know Merryn has been consulting with Cook for a week now in anticipation of this visit. She told me the king has quite the sweet tooth.”

  “Aye, he does, my lord. He fancies Cook’s tarts, in particular. Last time he told my lady if she weren’t careful, he might spirit Cook away in the dead of night with nary a backward glance.”

  They reached the opening gates and stood, waiting for the rider. Geoffrey sensed a tension in Gilbert as he stared ahead.

  “Do you recognize this me
ssenger?” he asked.

  The captain nodded. “Indeed, I do. He came on the king’s last visit. And he also came last month.” Gilbert turned his head and spat upon the ground as if in disgust.

  That gesture, along with hearing this rider had been at Kinwick recently, piqued his interest. “Who is this man, Gilbert? What think you of him? And what business did he have at Kinwick?” Geoffrey watched as the man came closer, but he still did not recognize him.

  “His name is Sir Symond Benedict. He serves as a member of the king’s royal guard. A good soldier.” Gilbert paused. “He came in May to deliver the king’s missive to Lady Merryn regarding the court’s summer visit.”

  Geoffrey knew there had to be more. The knight’s reluctance to continue told him as much.

  “And?” he prodded, curious as to Gilbert’s opinion.

  Gilbert kept his eyes on the rider as he approached. “Benedict told me—and several of the men—that the king had chosen him as Lady Merryn’s new husband. He was to be lord of Kinwick upon their marriage.”

  Geoffrey felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by a feisty horse. Merryn had never spoken a word of it to him. Thinking back, this knight may have been present at Kinwick when he returned from his imprisonment at Winterbourne.

  And his wife had sent the man away before he discovered his presence.

  It made sense, of course. Geoffrey knew he’d been gone long enough for all—even the king-to think him dead. He realized that Edward would have married Merryn off quickly if she had not given birth to a son and an heir. The king would have allowed her, once Ferand passed, to hold the estate in trust for her son. The fact he’d allowed her freedom from marriage for as long as he had meant that he looked upon her with high favor. Edward would have seen her grief at her husband’s loss and given her time to heal emotionally.

  Knowing that this knight would have been the man to protect Kinwick angered him. No matter how good Edward’s choice might have been, this man would have become the only father his children would have known.

  And this arriving knight would have bedded his wife. His seed would have grown within her belly. Anger seethed within him.

  Benedict rode through the gates with a merry wave to the gatekeeper, as if he owned the property. Geoffrey took an instant dislike to Symond Benedict upon first sight, from his bushy red beard to his meaty hands.

  He trotted his horse to where they stood, the king’s banner in one hand.

  “Good morn to you, Gilbert. And who might your companion be?”

  “I am Geoffrey de Montfort. Lord of Kinwick.”

  Geoffrey thought the man might dismount and greet him since he’d made himself known. Instead, he briskly nodded at him while remaining atop his horse.

  “And I am Sir Symond Benedict, come from King Edward himself. I have a missive for Merryn.” The knight paused. “Lady Merryn.” He pulled a scroll from a pouch.

  Geoffrey’s rage at the man’s familiar use of Merryn’s name threatened to explode, but he would not play this knight’s game. He believed the slip a deliberate one and thought Benedict goaded him.

  Instead, he coolly replied, “I shall see that my wife receives it.” He reached out and plucked it from Benedict’s hand. “Please take your horse to the stables and care for the animal. You are welcome to join us for our evening meal.”

  Geoffrey turned and strode away, dismissing Benedict as no more than an errand boy. He clutched the missive, finding it odd why the king would address it to Merryn and not him.

  He knew his wife to be making candles this afternoon, having returned to more domestic duties, so he sought her out near the kitchens. He watched as she inspected some and approved them. His heart pounded in his chest as he viewed her. This woman meant everything to him. Her image had kept him alive during his darkest hours. Thoughts of her helped him pass the many lonely years in isolation.

  Merryn glanced up and caught sight of him. It thrilled him to see the pleasure that graced her face. He motioned her over.

  She came and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “How did the training exercises go? I can imagine all those weapons swinging and men grunting. They will be worn to the nub by the time we dine tonight, each trying to outperform the other.”

  “The men are looking forward to showing their skills to the king.” He held up the parchment. “This arrived only now, via messenger. From the king.”

  “Then he must be nearby. At least Edward is considerate enough to give us some warning. I hear he is not so generous with everyone else and often stops unannounced, expecting to be entertained on a grand scale.” She chuckled. “As if feasts simply cook themselves and appear out of nowhere.”

  “Shall we read it?” he asked.

  “Let’s go to the solar.” She tugged on his hand and urged him to come along with her.

  They arrived at their chamber, and he placed the scroll on a table.

  “I was told by the messenger that the missive was for you.”

  “Did you see he had ample food and drink? I pity messengers for all the dusty roads they must ride.”

  “I told him to stable his horse and invited him to the evening meal. He told me his name was Sir Symond Benedict.”

  He saw the flush creep up her neck as she bit her lower lip in thought.

  “Do you know this man?”

  Merryn busied herself with breaking the seal on the scroll. “Aye, I do. The king brought him on his previous visit as part of his royal guard.” She unrolled the tightly wound page. “And he brought news to us last month with a letter from Edward, informing me of his upcoming visit.”

  Merryn’s fingers touched the page. She frowned. “’Tis not addressed to me. ‘Tis your name gracing the page, Geoffrey.” Her cheeks had flushed a bright pink. “Sir Symond must have misunderstood the king when he told you ‘twas for me.”

  “I know, Merryn,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes met his. “Know what, Geoffrey?”

  “That this knight was intended to be your new husband and lord of Kinwick.”

  She turned away and sat upon a chair. Her eyes closed for a minute as she composed herself. She took a calming breath and opened them.

  “Yes. ‘Tis true. The king’s last letter to me not only shared when his court would arrive at Kinwick but that he wanted me to consider Sir Symond as my new husband. Symond was to remain here during the month that it would take the court to arrive at Kinwick so we could get to know one another.”

  Merryn sprang from her chair and came to stand before him. Her hands rested upon his shoulders. “Edward granted me many years in which to grieve. He did not force my hand and demand I wed.” She slid her hands down his arms and took both his hands in hers. “But I believed the time had come when I could no longer put him off. He thinks highly of Symond, so I admit I was considering the match.

  “Then you showed up, Geoffrey. ‘Twas as if God knew he must send you back to me then and there before a terrible mistake had been made.”

  “So you would have wed him?”

  She nodded. “If ‘twas the king’s wish, the wedding would have taken place upon his visit. Thank the Christ it did not.”

  Merryn flung her arms about him. Geoffrey embraced her, enjoying the feel of her body against his, her ample breasts pressing into his chest.

  “Have no worries, my love,” he whispered against her hair. “We are together again. ‘Tis all that matters.” He eased her from him. “Let us see what the king writes.”

  They read the note, which only told Geoffrey of Edward’s arrival the following day and how he looked forward to meeting him. He mentioned Merryn briefly and asked that she be sure her cook had some of those delicious tarts he loved immediately available.

  “I shall tell Cook the time has come,” Merryn said. “We have planned out several menus, but I know the tarts are first and foremost on the king’s mind. If he doesn’t get them, he shall throw a fit.” Merryn shuddered. “Worse than any Ancel ever threw.”

  She star
ted to leave the chamber. “Oh, I want to let Hugh and Milla know so they can also be here to greet the king tomorrow. And I suppose since I want to propose a wedding during the royal visit that it might be nice if Hardi and his betrothed were on hand, as well. Would you be so good as to send messengers to Wellbury and Winterbourne informing them?”

  “I can do that,” he replied.

  Geoffrey dashed off a few quick lines to Hugh, asking for him and Milla to be on hand for the king’s arrival on the morrow. It took him longer to compose the brief missive to Hardi. He still had such mixed feelings about the new earl and hated that his children would spend much of their years at Winterbourne under his tutelage.

  When he finished both, he affixed the sealing wax and pressed the de Montfort insignia into it. He brought the scrolls downstairs and had an idea.

  Geoffrey entered the Great Hall and spied Symond Benedict drinking ale and flirting with a serving wench, pinching her ample bottom.

  Putting on his best smile, he approached him. “Sir Symond? Lady Merryn has penned two notes for our neighbors on each side, her brother Hugh Mantel to the south and the earl of Winterbourne to our north. She would like both in attendance when the king arrives tomorrow.”

  Benedict nodded pleasantly at his words and took another swig of ale as he winked at the serving girl.

  Geoffrey extended the missives. “Lady Merryn seems to trust you. She would like you to be the messenger that delivers these. I thank you on her behalf.” He dropped the parchments on the table and exited the Great Hall.

  Smiling all the way.

  CHAPTER 27

  Merryn awoke earlier than usual, her stomach already aflutter in anticipation of the king’s arrival sometime today. She thought of matters they had spoken of on his last visit—how she had handled various tenant problems, her ideas regarding crop rotation, and ways she believed taxes for the Crown should be collected and spent. Edward listened faithfully and even complimented her, promising to discuss taxation with his advisers.