Chapter Six #4
That brought Titus’ conversation to a halt.
They knew about him because of the Executioner Knights, something he wasn’t even supposed to know anything about, much less speak about.
He had been giving Katiana a pretty, noble speech about the good he wanted to do when the truth was much different.
He liked serving under Morgen de Lohr as a spymaster, but in his case, his intentions really were altruistic.
He felt he could do more good that way—good for the country, for his family—than simply being a knight or a garrison commander in the de Wolfe empire.
The truth was that Titus had ambition that ran outside of the norm.
But he couldn’t tell Katiana that, for obvious reasons.
Let her think he was a humane, simple knight with normal knightly ambitions.
He was afraid of what she would think if she knew otherwise.
Odd how two days and two substantial conversations with the woman were coming to mean something to him.
When he’d first seen her yesterday, he’d been thrilled.
As he’d told her, the conversation had been warm and witty, something that wasn’t usual in his world.
And this morning… this morning, he was coming to see a woman of grace and beauty and warmth, with a sharp mind, and that was something he liked very much.
Of all times in his life to find a woman he was interested in, this was probably the most inconvenient.
Even with all of his friends and brothers and family, Titus had always felt rather solitary, especially in the spy business. It was a lonely profession. But in two days, and two conversations, he’d caught a glimpse of something that didn’t make him feel so solitary anymore.
And he liked it.
“When one has been a knight for as long as I have been, your reputation precedes you,” he said vaguely. “I am a de Wolfe. My family is well known. Any reputable training guild is going to seek men like me. Offers are expected.”
Katiana smiled. “I can imagine they would be,” she said. “You are my champion, after all. They know you are the best, and so do I.”
Titus stabbed a piece of pork and dropped it in his mouth. “Indeed, I am, my lady,” he said. “Which reminds me—you told me that you were the best with a harpsichord.”
She shrugged. “Mayhap not the best, but I am very practiced.”
“You also said that you would play your harpsichord for me sometime.”
Katiana was finished with her eggs and now sipping on the warmed, watered wine. “Of course I will,” she said. “There is one at my aunt’s home. Mayhap she will permit me to invite you to feast one evening, and I shall play for you.”
“I do not want to wait that long.”
She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I am afraid there is nothing more I can do.”
He grinned at her and dropped his knife, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I can.”
He winked at her as he stood up, gently pulling on her so she would do the same.
Puzzled, Katiana let him pull her through the common room and back into the guts of the tavern, where there were many rooms and people sprinkled throughout.
It smelled of old ale and rubbish. He took her into a dingy back room in particular and proudly pointed to what looked like a wooden box with legs in the corner.
“There,” he said. “I believe that is the instrument you need.”
Bewildered, Katiana went over to the cabinet and opened the lid to see the customary ivory and dark keys. But it was a very small box, not at all like the instrument she was used to playing on, though it was beautifully painted and well made.
She ran her hands all over it.
“I’ve never seen one like this,” she said with delight. “Who does it belong to?”
“The tavern keeper,” Titus said, coming to stand next to her.
“I told you that this is a gambling place. Men can bet on anything, and they can bet anything. One night, a man had no more coinage and bet this instrument, which he was taking home to his wife. As you can see, it never made it. I saw it when I was here once before, just sitting here and being very lonely. Play something for me.”
Katiana put her fingers on the keys, and the familiar sound filled the air. It wasn’t quite in tune, but good enough. She ran her hand along the top of it, noting the fine painting.
“This is exquisite,” she said. “I’ve simply never seen one that looked like this. It’s very different.”
“Sit down,” Titus said, pulling out the cushioned stool for her. “Play whatever you wish.”
Katiana sat down, marveling over the small, compact instrument. She thought it might be something called a clavichord, which was making a name for itself in Paris. It hadn’t quite come to England yet, or so she thought, but she’d heard women speaking of it in the marketplace.
Carefully, she put her fingers on the keys, playing a chord that was surprisingly rich and full, if not slightly out of tune with some of the notes.
But she didn’t care. Delighted, she began to play a tune she’d learned a few years ago, a sweet love song, something most maidens had in their repertoire if they played any instruments.
All women ever sang about was love and romance.
As she began to play the notes in an expert fashion, her pure, high voice filled the air of the stale chamber.
Come roam with me, my love,
Come roam far with me,
Away from this hard world,
And love only me.
They said that you loved me,
They said that you cared.
They said that your strong heart,
Wasn’t mine to be shared.
When she was finished, the chamber was perfectly silent.
Katiana looked over her shoulder to see Titus standing there with an expression of shock upon his face.
But behind him, at the chamber’s wide door, stood three or four people who began demanding more when she came to a halt.
Hesitant, and the least bit embarrassed, she looked at Titus for help.
But he had none to give.
“My God,” he breathed. “You lied to me.”
She looked at him, startled. “When did I do such a disgraceful thing?”
He came to stand beside her, his shocked expression now full of warmth. “You lied when you said you knew how to play this instrument,” he said. “You did not play it. You created beauty such as I have never heard before. You touched the keys and perfection came forth. And you sing like an angel.”
Realizing he’d meant it all as a compliment, Katiana blushed furiously. “I do not have many talents, but this is one of the few,” she said. “I learned my lessons in music well.”
He snorted at the understatement. “I would say that you did,” he said. “You are astonishing in your talent. Play something else for me. Please.”
Feeling flattered and the least bit giddy that he was so appreciative, she turned back to the keyboard, pondered her next song, and then began to play a haunting, delicate melody. After the first few bars, she lifted her voice.
O lovely one… my lovely one…
The years will come… the years will go…
But still you’ll be… my own true love…
Until the day… we’ll meet again…
O lovely one… my lovely one…
My love for you… will never die…
My heart is yours… till the end of time…
When you will be… my own true love…
When she was finished, she turned to look at him again, only to see that he was looking at her with a smile on his lips, his eyes glittering.
But the crowd in the doorway was about ten or twelve people now, and they all began cheering her, shouting out requests.
Mortified, Katiana looked to Titus, who took the hint.
He turned to the doorway crowded with people and waved his hands at them.
“Be gone,” he barked. “The lady is playing for me and me alone. Go away or you’ll not like my reaction.”
Everyone scattered except for one man, and Titus recognized him. He was the tavern keep, the man who owned The Pox. His name was Griswold, but Titus didn’t know anything beyond that. He pointed to the instrument.
“I hope you are agreeable that she may play it,” he said. “Mayhap I should have asked permission, but I did not think of it.”
Griswold was a middle-aged man with stringy, curly hair, a big gut, and fists the size of a man’s head.
“It has not been played in some time,” he said. “I thought I was hearing things.”
“May she continue to play it?”
Griswold nodded firmly. “As long as she likes,” he said. “She plays very well.”
“Aye, she does.”
“And she sings well.”
“You’ve never heard better.”
The corner of Griswold’s mouth tugged with a smile. “Is she your lady?”
Titus turned to look at Katiana, who was inspecting the keys of the instrument. After a moment, he returned his focus to Griswold.
“She is,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
Griswold pointed in her direction. “Because I was thinking…” he said, trailing off.
But he picked up again quickly. “I was thinking she might teach some of my girls to play it. I would pay her well, of course, but the instrument just sits there. Imagine what my customers would think if a couple of my girls could play it. We would have music here every night.”
Titus cocked an eyebrow. “My lady is from a fine family,” he said. “It would not do for her to come to this place on a regular basis. I am sure you understand.”
Griswold waved him off. “Of course I do,” he said. “But if I made the girls bathe and dress properly, mayhap they could go to her? Does she have an instrument in your home?”
Titus rather liked the feeling of Griswold assuming he and Katiana were married and lived together.
In fact, he liked it quite a bit. It gave him a feeling he’d never had before—one of belonging and pride.
For the first time in his life, he felt proud of himself and of someone else.
It was a strange feeling, but wholly marvelous.
“There is one,” he said after a moment. “I must speak with my lady before I can agree. I will let you know what we decide.”
Griswold nodded, his gaze still on Katiana as she stood up and looked inside the cabinet, fussing with something.