Warrior's Deception. Diana Hall

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СКАЧАТЬ tucked an imaginary strand of hair into her wimple. “The king will be at Tintagel for less than a fortnight. He will preside over a tourney and hear grievances from nearby lords. That evening there will be dancing and entertainment.”

      Lenora released a slow breath of air when her aunt turned her attention away from her. Beatrice became the new target.

      “You will wear the lapis necklace your father gave me at our wedding. We must make sure that you are the loveliest young woman there. I’m sure you will catch the eye of a suitable partner.” Her aunt began to rattle off a list of elaborate gowns for Beatrice to pack for the coming trip. Meekly, she nodded at each of her mother’s suggestions.

      Bored with details of gowns and matching slippers, Lenora decided now would be a perfect time to escape. She jumped up from the massive carved pew.

      “Wait.” Her aunt motioned for her to remain seated. “You can’t leave yet, we must also plan your wardrobe. The maids need to be directed as to which gowns you will be taking and-”

      “My position hasn’t changed.” Lenora’s calm voice caused her relatives to gasp in surprise. She took leave of her vexed aunt and escaped up the narrow curved stone stair that led to her father’s chambers. On purpose, she climbed the stairs two at a time, knowing it would infuriate her aunt.

      A step sagged beneath the weight of Lenora’s foot. She made a mental note of the slight wood rot in the wooden section of the defense stairs as she sped to her father’s third-story chamber. Tomorrow, she must maneuver Sir Hywel to notice the decay. Right now, she wanted to talk with her father.

      Without knocking, she barreled into her father’s private chambers and announced, “She’s at it again.” Lenora bounced up onto the red velvet coverlet, tucked her long legs under her and wrinkled her nose.

      Her father, Sir Edmund, smiled from his bed, the curtains pulled back to let in the welcomed cool spring air. “So, you’re having a spat with your Aunt Matilda, are you? And why are you so determined not to attend the king’s festivities at Tintagel? The occasion should be quite merry.”

      “How do you know that’s what the argument was about?”

      “You forget about the squints. I keep well informed of what goes on with those to help me.” Her father pointed toward the floor. Lenora was just able to make out the small peephole concealed in a knot in the lumber floor. She slid off the bed and peered down through the squint.

      The old Norman device enabled her to spy on the activity of the great hall below. She stifled a laugh when she spotted the bald head of her father’s seneschal, Sir Hywel, pass below her. Light whispers of his instructions to a passing servant floated upward. The high-pitched voice of her aunt drifted up as she continued to discuss the upcoming trip to Tintagel.

      “You, sir, are an unscrupulous spy.” Her voice sounded with false indignation. She stood and shook the wrinkles from her tunic and rearranged the simple rope girdle at her waist. “You promised you would remain abed.”

      “You, daughter, are a mischievous wench who needs her backside warmed for talking to her father in such a manner! It wasn’t I who peeked, but Tom.” Sir Edmund’s smile abated his threat.

      “With your direction, I’m sure.”

      “Of course,” he agreed readily.

      Laughing, Lenora wished she could transform into a little girl and once more cuddle up next to her tall, strong father. She could listen to his stories of battles and the courtship of her mother over and over again.

      Although bedridden for more than a month, Sir Edmund still possessed a commanding figure. His lanky form stretched the length of the six-foot bed. Red gold hair showed no signs of gray. Clean shaven, he reflected the rugged, handsome features of his youth.

      “So, tell me what you have accomplished today.” Her father punched his silken pillows and snuggled back to rest against them.

      “I managed to have Sir Hywel notice that the east bailey wall needs to be fortified, and I saw the smithy as you asked. His proposal to enlarge the blacksmith shed has merit. Oh, and as I climbed the stairs I noticed there is some rot in the wooden steps.”

      Sir Edmund knit his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “I’ll talk to Sir Hywel about the blacksmith. I’ll also mention those damn steps. Those wooden Norman steps are a great defense in case we are invaded, but they are in constant need of repair.” He cast her a concerned look. “It’s not been easy on you, Lenora. You are my eyes and ears while I’m stuck in here.”

      “Father, I don’t mind. ‘Tis rather entertaining to invent ways for your steward to discover things.”

      “Aye, I can imagine it would. Hywel is a good man. He warned me his father suffered from senility at an early age. He had to be watched for fear he would leave the keep and lose his way. Toward the end, the man didn’t even know his own name. I fear our good friend suffers from the same ailment.” Her father defended his seneschal. “Sir Hywel is as loyal as a hound and as fierce as a boar. I should replace him, but would do so when I have someone I can trust to take over. For now, I must lay this boon at your feet and trust you to do my steward’s thinking for him.”

      “Aunt Matilda is doing his thinking for him now.” Lenora giggled and rotated her index finger around in the air. “She has him running circles downstairs in preparation for the King’s tourney.”

      “Daughter, I believe you should go to this tourney.” Her father’s voice interrupted her musing.

      “Father, I don’t want to go. I have too much to do here. Mother’s mare, Silver Maple, will foal soon. I need to be here to help. Then there are the new spring herbs to tend. I have several new ones given to me by knights from the Crusades. And of course there’s you….” Lenora stopped, bit her tongue, and wished once again she would think before opening her mouth. Her father’s eyes blazed liquid gold. Another inherited trait from her father, she recognized this sure sign of anger. She prayed the blast would be short.

      “The only thing wrong with me is that I have too many women trying to tell me what to do! A few days without female company will do me good. You women are always seeing disaster. I’ve a tiny cough, a little weakness in the legs. This will pass if I’m not coddled up like a nursing babe. I’m still lord of this keep, and I can manage quite well with my seneschal. Sir Hywel may not worry about your precious plants but he and I can manage for a fortnight on our own. If ‘tis proof you need, I’ll be up out of this today.” Edmund jerked backed the ermine-trimmed coverlet and twisted his long legs toward the wooden floor.

      “Nay!” She rushed to her father’s side and replaced the coverlet. “Please, Father, the physicians ordered you to rest.”

      “And rest I will, but only if you attend the tourney,” Sir Edmund countered. “King Henry needs me to fulfill my vassal obligation of counsel. He intends to use the tourney as an opportunity to plan alliances and settle a dispute between Sir Champlain and Sir Ranulf. Since their claims are on land that borders ours, I want to have input into the outcome.”

      “But, Father,” she protested, “surely the king will understand that you are ill. Besides, I could not speak at counsel.”

      “I do not expect you to. Just keep those quick eyes and ears open and deliver a message to the king on the land dispute. I have a fear that whatever the outcome, the conflict will spill over onto Woodshadow.”

      “Aunt СКАЧАТЬ