Chapter Five
Mara had had enough of Kirk’s badgering by the time they reached the chamber she and Micheline would occupy.
Leaving the flushing young lady in the care of her sister, Kirk went in search of Edmund.
As promised, he intended to inform his lord the details of the situation and would waste no time in doing so.
He knew exactly where to find the man and knew without a doubt that he would not be alone. Knocking loudly on Edmund’s chamber door, he was met with Johanne’s pale, smiling face.
“Welcome home, Kirk,” she purred, gesturing him into the room. “My brother and I were just discussing you. I hope the trip to Haslingden went well?”
He eyed the woman he could hardly stand. A foul woman who leered at him as if he was something of a delightful confection.
“Well enough, my lady.” He looked at Edmund, standing by the windows with a goblet of fine wine in his hand. “I would speak with you, my lord. Alone, if I may.”
Edmund smiled cordially at his captain, moving to the decanter of alcohol. “Of course,” he said, pouring a second cup for his knight. “I have a need to speak with you as well. Johanne, please leave us.”
Johanne was staring at Kirk, a foolish grin on her face. Prancing a wide circle around the man, inspecting him closely as the knight stood stock-still, she ran an index finger down his massive forearm on her way to the door.
“We are pleased you have returned, Kirk,” she said, licking the finger that had stroked his arm. Kirk refused to look at her as she opened the carved panel. “Mayhap you will tell us of the adventure tonight at the feast?”
The only thing requiring Kirk to give a decent answer was his sworn loyalty to the House of de Cleveley. Were it not for his oath, he would just as well ignore the woman.
“Mayhap.” He replied, still focused on Edmund.
Johanne slipped from the room without another word. Kirk knew when she had gone because her repulsive odor immediately vanished. Whether or not it was an imagined stench, still, it seemed to reek from her like a roaring river. It was all Kirk could do to keep from gagging.
Edmund had the odor, too. But for the simple fact that he was Kirk’s liege, the knight could do nothing but tolerate the fetor.
He had known Edmund the better part of his life, a young man with a remarkably level head in spite of a personal life that went beyond the boundaries of acceptable existence.
Were the man not carrying on an incestuous liaison with his step-sister, Kirk might have found him likable at times.
Kirk refused the goblet Edmund offered, instead, removing his helm and setting it next to the door. He would have thrown it on the bed had he not feared contracting some of the hideous filth Johanne had left on the sheets. Scratching his head with fatigue, he waited for Edmund to speak.
Edmund eyed his moody captain, knowing the man’s thoughts without being told.
Kirk had long recognized the relationship between Edmund and his step-sister, a concept that distressed him now as it had from the beginning.
But being a discreet man, he had never said a word.
Edmund knew the tact wasn’t for the benefit of his liege; it was simply because Kirk couldn’t bring himself to verbally acknowledge the situation.
“Well, then,” Edmund said after a moment. “What is it you wished to discuss?”
“The Lady Micheline, my lord,” Kirk replied.
Edmund raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes. My new bride.” He shook his head, turning back to the decanter of liquor. “You should have left her at Haslingden, Kirk. She certainly isn’t what I’d hoped for.”
Kirk watched his young lord take another drink of wine. “I am sorry you feel that way,” he said quietly. “She’s a nice young woman, kind and obedient. She’ll make a fine chatelaine for Anchorsholme.”
“What of Johanne?” Edmund turned to him. “She is an excellent chatelaine. How can I ask her to share the reins of power with an outsider?”
“As your wife, the Lady Micheline should have sole power. You are, after all, the baron. And she will be the baroness.”
Edmund did not like that thought. Pursing his lips, he strolled to the long windows. “Curse my father for accepting this betrothal,” he muttered, gazing over the landscape. “I wanted no part of this, Kirk. I would have welcomed the black-haired girl, but her sister is below my expectations.”
“Edmund,” Kirk’s voice was soft. Firm. “The Lady Micheline has had a difficult life. You are making it far more difficult with your obvious displeasure. But you have no choice in the matter, as she does not. If you will simply accept the situation and take comfort in the lands she brings, I am sure you will come to terms with this. I must say, I was rather embarrassed by your reaction in the bailey. You left me to make excuses for your behavior.”
Edmund looked at the knight; at thirty-two years of age, he was everything Edmund could never be if he lived to one hundred.
The big brother he never knew, the mentor he never had.
Edmund knew Kirk respected him simply because he was sworn to him; but true respect, something that had to be earned, was non-existent.
Given his relationship with Johanne, Edmund suspected he would never earn it.
“I apologize for that,” he said softly. “I suppose I am not very good at masking my emotions. After witnessing her beauteous sister, the lady’s average features caught me off-guard.”
Kirk cocked an eyebrow. “I am not the one you should apologize to.”
Edmund nodded reluctantly. “You are right, of course.” He refused to elaborate further. Taking a deep breath, he moved away from the window. “We have other things to discuss, Kirk. I received a missive from your father yesterday.”
Kirk was veered off the subject of Lady Micheline by mention of his father. “What did he say?”
Edmund did not look pleased. “He seems to think there is a rebellion brewing among my vassals. The harvest was poor, as you know, and winter stores are not plentiful. The serfs resent the taxes I impose on them and are growing restless as the cold spell deepens. Your father believes a revolt is imminent.”
Kirk’s eyebrows rose. “A revolt? Ridiculous! The House of De Cleveley has always treated her vassals fairly.”
Edmund shrugged. “I take half of all harvests from my Irish subjects, which is less than some English overlords. Even so, with the countryside bordering on famine, the people are looking for someone to blame and that person, apparently, is me.”
Kirk’s jaw ticked. “Would you have me rally support from our allies and ride to my father’s aid?”
Edmund shook his head. “Not yet.” He poured himself more liquor. “Ryan Connaught is content to wait out the situation for the moment. If it intensifies, then we will have no choice.”
Kirk knew his father to be an intelligent warrior, not one to panic prematurely.
If Ryan said a revolt was imminent, then Kirk was inclined to believe immediate action was necessary regardless of Edmund’s caution.
“I shall send word to our allies nonetheless, preparing them for the potentiality,” he said.
“Did my father say anything about my brothers or mother? Are they in danger?”
“He did not mention the fact.” Edmund went to the wardrobe and, rummaging about, drew forth the missive from Ireland. Kirk accepted it eagerly. “I am sure your younger brothers are well. Drew recently returned from fostering in Devon, did he not?”
Kirk nodded, scanning the contents of the vellum.
“After Steven injured his hand in a riding accident, my father was without the power of a son by his side. But now with Drew returned….” He suddenly re-rolled the vellum, frustrated.
“This missive tells me nothing. It’s as if… as if he is holding something back.”
“Your father holds nothing back,” Edmund replied. “The missive is quite frank.”
Kirk shook his head, his fatigue fading as frustration took hold. “He probably does not want to worry me. He knows I shall sail for Ireland with half of England under my command at the first sign of trouble.”
Edmund watched the man work himself into a substantial fret.
“According to your father, there is no trouble – yet. Trust that the man will inform us when he needs reinforcements.” Kirk continued to pace, the missive clutched in his hand, and Edmund set his goblet down.
“Retire to your chambers, Kirk. Rest, relax. We shall have a grand feast this night to celebrate your return.”
Kirk looked up from his pacing boots. “You mean the arrival of Lady Micheline.”
Edmund met his gaze. After a moment, he shrugged. “As you say. Regardless, I demand you rest until the meal. You look as if it has been a hellish journey.”
Kirk did not say what he was thinking, thoughts turning from the situation in Ireland to the events of the past two days.
Not hellish, Edmund. Hellion.
*
The first thing Mara was aware of was the smell of roasting beef. A heavy, mouth-watering smell and she realized she was famished. Seated in the great smoky hall at the table reserved for the de Cleveley family, Mara and Micheline huddled together as the rumbled of conversation filled the room.
Kirk had explained that the guests this eve had been part of Johanne’s birthday celebration a few days prior. Most of them were older, a few young men and ladies in fine court dress. Clad in the finest surcoats they owned, Mara and Micheline were sorely out of place among the wealthy visitors.
Even though Micheline was trying her best to remain dignified, Mara wanted no part of it.
The crowd had been staring and pointing since her arrival a half-hour before and she was nearly wild with what she perceived to be negative attention.
When Kirk passed the table on his rounds of the room, she latched onto his hand and refused to let go.
Smiling gently, he knelt beside her chair. “What’s the matter with you? Are you not enjoying yourself?”