"No!" Alan said, unable to face the image conjured up. "I will not believe she is dead until I have searched for her myself."
The thought bracing. No one would seek Meriel as hard as he would. He knew how her mind worked, he would see something that the others had missed.
He looked at the baron, his voice pleading. "You've achieved your goals for the season and don't plan further campaigning. Please, my lord, give me leave to return to England."
"If you must, I suppose I can manage without you." Theobald sighed, his eyes sad. "But do not deceive yourself, Alan. How could Meriel be alive and your men not have heard of it?"
"I don't know," Alan said, his voice grim. "But I intend to find out."
After leaving Lord Theobald, Alan swiftly packed so that he would be ready to leave at first light. The sight of the silver mirror almost shattered his fragile control.
Had it been just this afternoon that he had so blithely chosen it for Meriel? His long fingers stroked the chased pattern on the back. Until he had learned what happened to his sister, he would carry the mirror as a token of his determination.
And if she was truly dead, and had perished from human treachery, Alan would not rest until he had avenged her.
Chapter 10
First there had been light, a pure joyous flood of light that illuminated her within and without. The light had been full of beauteous beings, exquisite and diaphanous as they caressed and healed her. She had almost gone with them, but the voice drew her back. While the exact meaning of the words had escaped her, their pulsing emotion had caught her heart.
Curious and moved, she had turned away from the light and followed the voice until she discovered the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Indeed, he was the first being she could remember seeing clearly. The rising sun had touched his hair to silver-gold, and he had looked at her with such tenderness that she had thought he must be an angel.
Then she became, trying to remember exactly what an angel was, and who had told her of them. But it hadn't mattered. He had kissed her on the forehead and she knew she was safe, so she had drifted back to sleep.
He was there again when she woke, but too far away, not holding her as he had the first time. She had looked at him reproachfully and he had come closer. He spoke again, and this time the meaning of the words was nearer, just out of reach, and she knew that soon she would comprehend.
Intently she watched the people who came and went from her chamber. There was a man in a pale robe, with gentle hands and no hair on the top of his head. He was called Brotherpeter. There was a young female who brought food, and combed her hair, and spoke friendly words. She was called Margery.
There was another kind of creature, small and furred, with a comical face. It slept on her chest and woke her in the morning, and she was very pleased with herself when she remembered that it was called Cat. One or two other people came into the room from time to time, looking at her curiously, as if there was something odd about her. Perhaps there was.
But the most important one, her angel, was called Lordadrian. Always there was tenderness in his eyes, along with sadness. He didn't touch her. She didn't like that. She had been happy and safe when he held her, and this was not as good.
When next she woke, he was sitting by the bed. When her eyes opened he said softly, "Good morning, Meriel."
This time she understood what the words meant, and she was vastly pleased. She was equally pleased that his hand lay on the edge of the bed. She reached out and took firm possession of it. "I am called Meriel?" she asked. Her voice sounded strange, unused. She must use it now.
Lordadrian's face lit up as if he had swallowed the sun. He had beautiful eyes, transparent gray, and she could read every shift of emotion in the depths. Indeed, she could close her eyes and still know what he felt. What he felt now was happiness.
"Yes, you are Meriel. Do... do you remember what happened?"
She pondered. Meriel. She liked that. "We were under a tree. You..." She fumbled for a word, found it. "Kissed me. I slept. Then I was here."
"That is all you remember?"
She knew he was feeling an odd mixture of disappointment and relief, and she wondered at that. Later she would ask what it meant, but just now she wasn't sure that she would understand the answer. It was hard enough to remember the words to answer Lordadrian. "Should I remember more?"
"There was... an accident. I... we feared that you would die. You don't remember the accident, or any of your life before it?''
She thought again. "Angels."
"If one can only remember one thing, angels are a fine choice." He smiled with great sweetness, and she wished he would kiss her again. A brilliant idea struck her. Perhaps it was her turn. Perhaps he would not kiss her until she kissed him.
She—she must try to think of herself as Meriel—pushed herself to a sitting position. She frowned when she realized that she could not reach his forehead, but surely allowances would be made. She leaned forward and kissed him.
As her lips pressed against his cheek, she felt a wave of startled tension ripple through his entire body. She pulled back and asked anxiously, "Did I do that wrong?''
She felt the effort he made to relax and say reassuringly, "No, I was just surprised. I see you are feeling very much better. Do you hurt anywhere?"
Meriel thought about it, touched the back of her head. A small area had been shaved and a neat bandage applied. It ached, but only a little. She sat up in the bed and pulled down the neck of her shift, baring her left shoulder. Another bandage, and when she poked it her shoulder throbbed. She realized that her left leg had a similar throbbing, so she pushed the blankets away and lifted her shift to investigate. Another bandage, this one running from mid-thigh to calf, but no serious pain. "I don't hurt much," she decided, flexing her leg in the air.
Then she looked at Lordadrian and saw that his eyes were fixed on her legs with fascination, as if he had never seen such a sight before. Meriel looked down, then ran a questioning hand along the curves from heel to hip, but they were simply legs. She looked at Lordadrian uncertainly. "Is something the matter?"
He raised his eyes to meet hers, and smiled again, though she sensed again that it was difficult for him. "It is just that you are recovering so quickly. Yesterday you lay still all day and didn't speak at all. Indeed, we thought that perhaps you could not. But now you seem almost ready to get out of bed."
What a splendid idea. She swung her legs over the side of the high bed and slid off, but her legs did not want to work. Perhaps that was why Lordadrian had stared at them.
As she crumpled toward the floor he swiftly caught her. His clasp brought her close to his body. Meriel smiled. This was exactly what she had wanted. She wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled against him, savoring the warmth and strength of his encircling arms. He had a nice scent. She would know it anywhere. Pressing her body against his, she asked, "Isn't it your turn to kiss me?"
"What?" His tone was baffled, and she felt tension in him again. She pressed closer, fascinated by the way part of him was hardening and changing shape.
"You kissed me the first time, so I kissed you," she explained, a slight questioning lift to her voice. She turned her face up, trying to understand. "I thought it was your turn to kiss me. That is not how it is done?"
His lips were inches from Meriel's. Might a kiss be even better if both people pressed their lips together? She liked the shape of his mouth. What would it taste like?
To her dismay, she did not have a chance to find out, for Lordadrian scooped her up in his arms and laid her back on the bed. Before he could move too far away, she captured his hand again, so he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes grave, he explained, "Kisses are very special. They are sometimes exchanged by people who are very fond of each other, but it is not done all the time, or by all people."
She frowned, not liking the implication. "You are not fond of me, so you don't want to kiss me again?"
He looked a little
helpless, and she wondered if he was having as much trouble understanding her as she had understanding him. Then he gave her the tender smile that was the very first thing she remembered clearly, and reached out to stroke her cheek. "I am very, very fond of you. But you have been ill, and it is not the best time for kisses. You must get your strength back, and then... then we can talk about it again."
Perhaps he was right, for she was very tired. Lordadrian must have known, because he got off the bed, removed his hand from her clasp, then pulled the covers over her. "Rest now, Meriel. I will come back tomorrow."
She reached up and touched his bright hair. The texture was as lovely as its appearance, soft and alive, like threads of spun silk. "Perhaps... perhaps just one kiss? For luck?"
"One for luck," he agreed, bending to kiss her forehead again. The touch of his warm lips made her want to purr like the cat. They felt lovely, soothing, yet also... exciting.
He had said that when she was stronger they would discuss kissing again. She thought that an excellent reason to get well as soon as possible.
* * *
Meriel fell asleep almost instantly, a smile on her lips. Adrian could only stare at her, shaken. He had never before wondered what came after a miracle, but it appeared that he was going to find out. Yesterday they had feared that her mind was hopelessly damaged and she would be unable to do more than watch the world through solemn eyes.
Today she was a whole different person. No, not really different, she was still Meriel, merely shorn of the memories that define a life. Would she soon remember more of her past? He must find Brother Peter and tell him how Meriel had improved. Perhaps the monk would have some idea of what would happen to her next.
He smiled ruefully as he left her room. Any child old enough to walk and talk had some idea of what was proper, but Meriel seemed to have lost her propriety along with her other memories. Her casual display of large expanses of her exquisite body had seriously undermined his self-control. It had been even worse when she fell, then made herself at home in his arms. Jesu, but she had felt so right there!
He should have known that repentance for his behavior was not enough, that there must still be punishment as well. It appeared that God had an unexpected sense of humor, for Adrian had wanted Meriel to come to him willingly, and now she had.
Yet he could not honorably accept, for she had no more idea of what she was doing than an infant. It was the subtlest, most frustrating punishment imaginable, a special kind of hell. The fact that he had not accepted her invitation proved that he was much closer to a saint than he had ever imagined.
Meriel had recovered greatly in the space of a day. In the space of another, she might recover entirely and have both her memory and her hatred of Adrian. He would be a villain and a fool to take advantage of her present innocence; all of his concern must be for her and her welfare.
But in time, when she was fully healed, if she still wanted kisses and closeness... He had sworn to grant her every wish, and he had no intention of breaking his vow.
Adrian sought out Brother Peter in the castle herb garden, where the monk was taking cuttings, and described Meriel's miraculous improvement.
Brother Peter listened with interest. "There is often some memory loss after a blow to the head, but usually it is just for the events around the accident. Though I have heard of complete memory loss, I have never seen such a case myself. I think it possible that eventually she will remember her past, but it is in God's hands." He crossed himself. "The young lady's survival was a miracle, so only He can say what will happen. I will examine her when she wakes. After that I will return to Fontevaile, for I can do no more here.''
Adrian nodded agreement, then returned to his chamber and summoned his steward. After dealing with normal business, the earl ordered that no one in the household was to tell Meriel how she had come to Warfield, or what had happened after.
Then, because Meriel would need a woman's guidance, Adrian called the maidservant Margery. Given the tendency of young females to chatter to each other, they had probably become friends.
Adrian could have ordered that the maid be kept away from Meriel, but he knew from experience that such prohibitions could be easily circumvented if the wench thought it her duty to tell her friend what had happened. Far better to win her willing cooperation.
Sure enough, Margery bowed her head submissively when he ordered her not to enlighten Meriel about her past, but there was a rebellious gleam in her eye. Adrian leaned back in his chair. "I think you do not agree with the order. Do you wish to say something? Speak freely, you will not be punished."
She looked at him suspiciously, then decided to take him at his word. "You treated her very badly, my lord. She really ought to know."
"You are quite correct on both counts," the earl agreed. "She deserves to know the truth, and I intend to answer all of her questions. However, I prefer to do it in my own time, after she is more fully recovered."
Margery thought about that. "Are you still keeping her captive?"
Adrian shook his head. "Her door is not locked, nor will it be again. Though I hope Meriel will stay, she is free to leave at any time."
Margery's gaze fixed the earl squarely. "Why are you talking to me like this, my lord? I am just a maid."
"You have seen how Meriel is today?" When Margery nodded, Adrian said, "Then you must see that she needs a woman to help her, not just as a maid, but to teach her what most grown women have already learned. You are the best choice for that, and I would rather have you working with me than against me."
"Very well, my lord, I shall tell her nothing of her past, since you say that you will do so." Margery curtsied, preparatory to leaving, but could not resist another question. "Is it true that you asked her to marry you?"
"Yes, and when she is well, I will ask her again."
Margery left with a broad smile on her face, doubtless pleased by the romantic thought that the lord wanted to marry a girl of humble birth. Adrian preferred the maid's response to that of Sir Walter, who was more than half-convinced that the earl had lost his wits.
Adrian spent the rest of the day working with the newest men-at-arms, which was good training for them and equally good practice for him. Richard joined in, since he was still at Warfield, and the two brothers climaxed the afternoon by fighting each other with swords. They were very equally matched and their demonstration left the recruits slack-mouthed with awe.
Besides having an exhilarating bout, it was always a good thing if the men-at-arms had a proper respect for their leaders. Even Sir Walter had to admit that while the earl's wits might be in question, there was nothing wrong with his sword arm.
* * *
After a pleasant and profitable sojourn in London, Sir Vincent de Laon returned to Chastain Castle. Guy of Burgoigne greeted him impatiently. "You took long enough. Did you find a rich Jew interested in moving to Shropshire?"
Sir Vincent took his time, drinking deeply of his wine before answering. "I did indeed, one Benjamin l'Eveske."
The earl nodded with satisfaction. "What trade is he in?"
"A variety of things. Wool, spices, wine, timber. And moneylending, of course. A very rich goose for the plucking."
"When will he be coming?"
Sir Vincent held up his hand. "Patience! The man did not earn his fortune by being a fool. He wishes to visit Shrewsbury, talk to the other merchants, find a house." After a pause, he added with a trace of malice, "And of course he wishes to meet his sponsor and protector, Earl Adrian."
"God's bones, Vincent, what game are you playing?" Guy exclaimed. "He can't be permitted to meet Warfield, and I'll be damned if I'll pretend to be that whey-faced bastard myself."
"No need." Sir Vincent smiled lazily, pleased with himself. "Benjamin has made inquiries and been assured that Warfield is an honorable man and Shrewsbury a well-defended city, so he is already inclined to accept the invitation. I will meet the Jew in Shrewsbury and explain that the earl is busy defending his t
enants from dastardly neighbors. Perhaps this is a good time to attack that small keep of Warfield's, I forget the name, but it would draw Warfield well away from Shrewsbury.
"At any rate, after extending your deepest regrets that you cannot meet him, I'll show Benjamin that empty house you own near the castle. It is fine enough to please even a rich merchant. I will say that he may live in the house rent-free if he moves himself and his business to Shrewsbury. That should be enough to persuade him. Jews are greedy devils."
Guy considered. Occasionally his lieutenant's over-subtle mind irritated him, but this seemed a good plan. All that was necessary was to lure the Jew to Shropshire. As soon as the man and his gold entered Guy's territory, he could be plucked like a ripe fruit. "You are sure he will come?"
"Aye, I made a number of inquiries and was told that Benjamin is anxious to leave the city as soon as he finds a suitable spot. He fears the fickle London mob may decide to turn on the Jewry as happened in Norwich a few years back." Sir Vincent snorted. "The Jews may be under the king's personal protection, but Stephen has never been fully master of his kingdom, and after so many years of civil war he is grown tired. Benjamin believes that in a smaller city, where people are known to one another, there is less likelihood of violence. It's easier to burn a stranger than a neighbor who is known to you."
The earl snorted, unimpressed. If Benjamin l'Eveske's life was that precious to him, he would pay handsomely for the privilege of keeping it. If he paid enough, Guy might even let him live, though likely he would not. The lives of Jews were a matter of supreme indifference to Guy of Burgoigne.
* * *
Before Richard left for Montford the next morning, he joined Adrian for a last meeting. They spent some time discussing coordination of their regular patrols. Then Richard turned to something else that had been concerning him. "I know you have had other things on your mind, but have you noticed how strange Burgoigne's behavior has been?"