Maiden and the Monster Page 3

  “Nay, I’d almost bet you convinced him. Did he command you first to drop her off in the forest?” Haldana sighed almost wistfully and laid her hand over the kiss she’d received on her plump cheek.

  Haldana was a big woman, but she carried her excess weight with such energetic grace that she appeared much smaller. Her limbs were in a constant state of movement—tidying a bit here, straightening a bit there. However, she never seemed to get much cleaning done and her days were filled with a whole lot of little nothings.

  “Nay,” Ulric laughed, shaking his head at her astuteness.

  “Really?” Haldana asked in surprise, taking her hand from her cheek only to wring her hands in her apron. She followed Ulric’s gaze to her patient.

  “‘Tis the countryside, he said,” Ulric remarked dryly.

  “I knew ‘twas something.” Haldana shook with a gentle laugh. Her body fidgeted as she moved to tuck the blankets around her motionless charge. “What else did he say? To leave the poor dear naked?”

  “Nay, he wishes fer her gown to be mended. He doesn’t want to provide fer her any more than he has too.” Ulric breathed heavily as he moved forward. “And I didn’t dare ask to move her, fer ‘twas hard enough to get him to accept her presence here. Methinks he only agreed as not to anger King Alfred and upset the treaty. He claims that he doesn’t care fer peace, but methinks ‘tis a lie, a lie to himself. As a boy he couldn’t stand the fighting that tore through the land. ‘Tis why he worked so hard fer peace while under King Guthrum’s service.”

  Haldana nodded sadly.

  “But when his lady wife would let no peace reside in his home, he stopped trying and went to war. We must have faith that Lady Lurlina didn’t drive all compassion from him. Methinks I catch a glimpse of his old self every now and then.” Ulric turned to the maiden, shaking his head in pity as he moved from the window. The girl didn’t move, not even to toss in sleep. He stood over the woman and studied her for some time before continuing, “M’lord believes that she may be a murdering thief.”

  “Nay,” Haldana said with a sound of dismay. “Just look to her and you’ll see. She’s a lady, of that I’d bet my life. Her fingers, once they heal, will be as smooth as a pot of cream. This child is no hardened thief.”

  “Yea,” Ulric agreed with a slow nod. He looked at the woman’s young, battered face in pity. Her skin was bruised, her eyes were swollen completely shut and her features were so dark and distorted that one couldn’t even make out the lines at the sides of her nose. What was worse, he’d seen the way her gown was ripped from her breasts. He didn’t want to think of what most likely happened to her. “Will she survive it? I told his lordship she would. I didn’t want to give him an excuse not to help her. Methinks that if he suspected she was near death, he would turn her out.”

  “I don’t know. Methinks it depends on her will to live. If she doesn’t want life, she’ll die.” Haldana sighed. “I’ll stay with her and watch over her. Please, direct the girls to take over my duties.”

  “Yea. ‘Tis already done.” Ulric narrowed his eyes in heavy contemplation, drawing back the coverlet at the girl’s bruised throat. His frown deepened. It looked as if she’d been strangled. “M’lord has put her in my charge until she awakens. He wishes to speak to her then.”

  “Methinks that m’lord is more frightened of her being here because she is a woman and a woman of his class.”

  “Yea, methought it also. He didn’t think much of me saying she was a beauty.” In truth, Ulric only saw the line of the lady’s slender body outlined by the coverlet and the fullness of her lips, but he’d mainly called her beautiful just to aggravate his lordship. He let go of the coverlet, letting the old material fall once more to cover the noblewoman’s neck. He moved his fingers to stroke the wiry hairs of his mustache.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if she was sent here to melt the curse from his lordship’s heart?” Haldana sighed, wistful. “Yea, even the curse from this castle. Then the Monster of Lakeshire would leave us be once and fer all.”

  “You are a romantic dreamer, dear girl.” Ulric kissed Haldana briefly on her forehead and turned to leave. “Let me know at once when she awakens.”

  “Yea, Ulric, I will.” Haldana let her girlish giggle echo in the chamber as he shut the door. From outside the chamber, he heard her say, “Poor child. You don’t know what you have gotten yerself into coming here.”

  Chapter Two

  The gigantic training broadsword slashed through the air with a bloodthirsty force. As the blunted metal blade heaved over his head, Vladamir growled with a fierce barbaric intensity that echoed the length of the bailey. He advanced against the Saxon knight using the long slashing movements of the Viking attack, something he hadn’t done for some time.

  The exercise yard echoed with the grunts of the two combatants, their exertion laden cries only to be outdone by the rowdy cheers of the onlookers. Vladamir was on the field thoroughly enjoying the freedom of his morning exercise. The watching soldiers pushed at each other, jockeying to get a better view of the action, and the young pages and squires observed the battling foreigner with open-mouthed awe.

  The sun was unseasonably hot, but the duke still wore his tunic. It stuck to his sweat-dampened back as he moved his hand above his head, twirling the weapon around in crazed circles. The motion was meant to drive fear into the opponent—a simple Norseman’s trick but it worked to perfection almost every time.

  Guthrum bid him not to teach the Saxon soldiers too much, lest it prove to be an advantage in battle against his army of Vikings—if there was to be another war—but it wasn’t proving to be an issue. The Saxons favored fighting in their manner and with their own weaponry, preferring the use of a smaller sword in battle to thrust toward their opponents, rather than slash.

  The unseasoned knight Vladamir sparred didn’t stand a chance against the more experienced lord. Nevertheless, Raulf handled himself bravely in the light of imminent defeat. The thinner Saxon sword the man carried was built to be of a lighter weight so as to be easier to maneuver but was no match for the sweeping heft of the broadsword, as Vladamir brutally slashed his weapon once again through the air. The weaker sword cracked in two, the blade falling uselessly to the ground.

  The soldiers mumbled with appreciation as the Viking weapon returned unscathed. The duke’s opponent looked to his sword in shock before tossing the useless hilt to the ground. Holding up his shield, he awaited the next devastating blow.

  Vladamir knew the Saxon knights hid their apprehension as they watched the cryptic way in which he moved. The broadsword became part of his arm and he wielded it with practiced ease. Even blunted, a sword was lethal if used right. The duke harbored no thought of death as he surged forward. In the heat of battle most knights aspired to fight courageously, but Vladamir laughed in the face of death, daring it to come and get him. In a way, he wanted it to take him.

  The duke growled with open hostility as his adversary fell to the ground beneath him. If Raulf was ever to be in battle, he needed to learn to survive. Taking it easy on him would do the man no good. Vladamir wasn’t sure why he cared, but if he was going to train a man, he would do it right. Besides, though loath to admit it, he liked Raulf.

  The duke swung down hard across the defeated knight’s shield, breaking through the thick wood. The blow sent Raulf’s arm jarring into the ground. The man grunted in fear as the two objects of his defense lay broken and he was left without protection.

  “Hold!” the defeated man hollered in panic. Raulf rolled away from the duke’s sword. His sweaty, naked back coated immediately with dirt and his brown eyes rounded in fear. “Hold!”

  Vladamir shook his head, coming out of a daze as the cloud of battle left him. Momentarily puzzled, he dropped the sword to his side. Reaching his hand out to the fallen man, he hoisted Raulf up off the ground. The duke flashed him a rare smile, although it was stiff and harsh and was more painful than pleasant. He’d been close to killing the man.

&nbs
p; “Methought you were going to kill me. What manner of fighting has come across you, m’lord?” the man exclaimed. He swiped his forearm across his sweaty brow and dusted off his bared chest. “‘Tis fairly possessed you were. I have never seen the like.”

  “Raulf,” Vladamir answered with a forced laugh. The low tone rang clear over the men, though inside the duke was shaken. “‘Tis the peace that makes you say such things. You’ve been too long from battle.”

  “Perchance you’re right, though I have nary a quarrel with peace, m’lord. I much prefer it to fighting against you on the field of combat.” Raulf laughed and scratched the back of his shortly cropped hair. Rubbing his shoulder, he shot Vladamir a sheepish smile. “But methinks ‘tis more like the lovely Lizbeth who is making me soft.”

  “Lizbeth?” Vladamir frowned. Perspiration drenched his brow and made his black linen undertunic stick to his skin as the color drew the heat of the sun to him.

  The duke pulled the tunic from his back and lifted it over his head in one sweeping gesture. Raulf turned his eyes downward at the movement. He gave a nervous swallow and leaned to pick up the pieces of his discarded weapons, only to busy himself by taking them to a squire.

  Vladamir rarely disrobed for exercise, though many of the men fought in such an unclothed state. It wasn’t out of modesty that the duke hid himself beneath clothing, it was because of the stares he received when he didn’t. He watched with practiced indifference as Raulf turned his eyes back to him. The younger man was careful not to look at his lordship’s chest.

  “Lizbeth?” Vladamir prompted, when the man didn’t answer his first inquiry. He nodded for the rest of his men to continue with their practice. Waving at a boy, he waited for the squire to bring him his sharper broadsword, gripping it tight as he gave the blunted blade to the child. He didn’t like being too far from his sword at any given time. “From the kitchen?”

  “Yea, ‘tis the same,” Raulf admitted with a telltale gleam of anticipation and fear in his eyes. He swallowed nervously. “I wish to speak to you about her.”

  Vladamir eyed the knight before him. Raulf was young and hadn’t seen many days in battle, but he showed promise and he came as part of the arrangement made with King Alfred. He was a trusted man of the Saxon king and was to serve as one of the highest-ranking knights in Vladamir’s regiment. The duke found he didn’t mind the arrangement, for he liked the man. Raulf had proven himself loyal, a hard worker and an astute student. However, he was also a handsome lad who would easily win much feminine attention. A scheming maid would find him a well-fought-for prize of a husband. It was why Vladamir hated to see the knight wedded at such a tender age, for he knew that it was Lizbeth’s hand the young man was going to ask for next.

  Over the past fortnights, Vladamir watched Raulf and Lizbeth’s flirtations with little interest. What did he care if his servants took lovers? However, he hadn’t realized the man’s intentions developed so deeply. He could well imagine that is why the lad had been so eager to fight against him in mock battle, despite the duke’s forbiddingly black mood.

  Yea, for there is naught more distressing to a man than to find himself locked to a woman—especially a woman a man feels tenderly for. ‘Tis why marriages should be arranged. ‘Tis the only safe way to form an alliance of such magnitude.

  “Nay, Raulf. Not now,” Vladamir said, turning to leave. A pain flickered in his stomach and he ignored the guilt he felt in denying the man. “I have much to do. I cannot give you counsel today.”

  “But?” Raulf beseeched, but his plea was ignored.

  Vladamir moved from him in dismissal. “Continue your exercise. I wish to see your skill much improved the next time we fight.”

  The duke growled as the young man tried once more to stop him. He moved from the exercise yard, his feet hitting hard upon the rock-lined earth as he went sullenly to the main hall for a drink of ale. His insides shook with a mighty force as he entered the castle. He’d nearly slain the man and for nothing.

  Vladamir hesitated at the archway leading into the great hall, taking a calming breath as he thought of the lack of control he’d just shown on the practice field. Entering the shade of the hall, he gripped his moist tunic in a fist and wiped his brow before moving the shirt to the nape of his neck. He lifted the heavy, hot length of his hair sticking to his back.

  The hall was cooler than the bailey. There were two corner fireplaces on opposite ends of the hall that had no fire in them. Because of this, only the candles and the thin ribbons of sunlight peeking through the narrowed slits in the ceiling lightened the dimmed hall.

  The main hall was in need of a cleaning. The duke hadn’t ordered it done since he was given the property nearly a year before. Vladamir knew it was a strange contradiction that the servants were kept so clean and yet he allowed his home to rot. Cobwebs hung from the high rafters. The once proud and spiraling patterns had dissolved into thin threads that fluttered in the draft. The matted straw rushes lining the stone floor, even though they didn’t smell, were old and filled with dust.

  A raised platform was fixed into the side of the hall. It too was made of the same black stone of the castle. It held atop it four majestic wooden chairs for the duke and any honored guest he might deem worthy enough to grace the high table. Usually he dined there alone. The dining table of the raised platform was the only permanent table in the hall. The lower tables and benches, where the servants and soldiers dined, were portable and had to be dismantled between meals by the kitchen maids and scullions.

  At the far end of the hall hung the curtains, behind which soldiers slept on straw pallets. The servants who didn’t have use of a pallet slept in the rushes. Usually, it was customary for the lady and lord of the house to also sleep in the main hall, on a large bed in the center, hidden from view by curtains. But, since King Alfred originally refurbished Lakeshire as a military base for himself on the easternmost edge of Wessex, there was a chamber abovestairs for the lord of the castle to reside privately.

  Though as long as I’m lord here, there will be no Duchess of Lakeshire, Vladamir swore vehemently.

  The duke found he much preferred a private bedchamber. He didn’t wish to spend his nights listening to the sexual fulfillments of the soldiers with their giggling servant wenches. It had been hard enough in the past not to invite the company of the fairer sex to his bed too often, though in the long run he thought it a wise decision. And he never invited maids from his own keep.

  The guest chambers near his own were not taken advantage of—except by some of those seeking adulterous privacy away from the hall as not to get caught frolicking by their spouses—and for all purposes had been shut up and abandoned. That was until the mysterious maiden arrived. It was within one of these abandoned bedchambers that the lady now resided. He placed her in one of the tower rooms, far away from his bed.

  Vladamir glanced briefly up the stairs leading to his mysterious guest. The woman had been there for over a sennight with no sign of movement, only being kept alive by Haldana’s caring attentions. Not for the first time Vladamir wondered why he allowed Haldana to bother with the woman. If Haldana were to stop tending her charge, the maiden would assuredly starve. Something kept the duke from ordering her to give up. He purposefully didn’t command her bedchamber cleaned, not wanting to give her special attention because of her station—just as he allowed no tunic gown to be sewn for her.

  Vladamir hated to admit that part of his restraint was due to his curiosity to see who the lady really was. He knew his life would be better off if she died and he could be rid of the body. A noblewoman only brought trouble.

  Let m’lady rise to a dreary domain, for if she is displeased she’ll be all that more anxious to leave.

  The duke hadn’t seen the woman since Ulric directed the knights to carry her to the chamber. Though tempted to see if the claims on her beauty were true, he hadn’t gone to investigate. He only briefly inquired of her status and Ulric, following his orders, didn’t bother him
with the details of the maiden’s recovery.

  Nonetheless, since the woman arrived in her disheveled state, Vladamir had been unable to get her from his mind. He thought of her during the day and dreamt about her at night, which was preposterous since he hadn’t even been afforded a good view of her features. What he’d seen was covered in rotting entrails. The fact didn’t stop him from fantasizing. The thoughts tormented his sanity as his arousal tormented his body. Too many times as of late he’d been tempted to grab the nearest maid and ravish her against the castle wall, taking her soft body in hard, unforgiving thrusts until he’d taken his fill. He hadn’t as of yet, but it didn’t stop him from yearning for release.

  The duke found himself feeling oddly protective of the maiden left for dead. It was apparent that she was more than likely a lady. He thoroughly examined her cloak before having it burned. The cloak had been beyond repair and was imbedded with the smell of her previous rotted bed.

  Vladamir was a thorough man and had made sure there was nothing amiss by sending Raulf and some of the others to inquire within the small villages. There had been no rumors of murder in the villages contained within his small duchy. If a person were to disappear in his dukedom, by law he would be the first to hear of it. Being a lawmaker was one of his more monotonous duties he carried as duke—even though his decision could be overridden by the Saxon king.

  What was even stranger than no report of a missing peasant was that there were no reports of a missing lady. Ladies of gentry weren’t something one could easily misplace. Vladamir doubted he would be the first informed if a Saxon noble was to go missing, though he might very well be the first accused.