While Angels Slept (10 page)

When Tevin
entered the solar a short time later, he got an earful.

***

“My sister is
afraid that she has upset you.”

Cantia was
sitting at the well-scrubbed table in the great hall, alone up until Tevin
walked into the room. He walked towards the table, slowly, his massive body
moving with grace and ease.  Cantia watched his approach, hoping there were no
tears left on her cheeks but not wanting to be obvious by checking.

“She did not, my
lord,” she said, eyes downcast. “I simply… that is to say, I am…”

Tevin plopped
his enormous body on the table top right next to her.  His right thigh was next
to her arm and she instinctively pulled away.  When she looked up, it was into
glittering dark eyes.

“This
evasiveness simply will not do,” he said flatly. “If you are upset, I would
very much prefer you told me so that it is out in the open.  You have been most
kind and accommodating to us and I will not see you distressed over things that
I would do all in my power to right.  What did my sister do that upset you so?”

Cantia shook her
head, struggling for courage.  She even smiled, weak though it might be. “Any
number of things can upset me these days, my lord. It matters not. I am a silly
woman.”

“You are not,”
his voice grew softer. “You have a great many things on your mind, and
rightfully so.  What was it my sister said that sent you from the room in
tears?”

Cantia struggled
with her brave front. “Nothing, my lord. We were simply speaking of my son and
she asked me where he was to foster.  I said… I said that we had not yet
petitioned to foster him because….”

So much for the
brave front. The tears returned and she struggled not to fall apart.  Tevin was
careful to resist his natural urge to physically comfort her in some way;
instead, he sat beside her on the bench, very close, and watched her wrestle
with her composure.

“Because why?”
he asked gently.

She sniffled
into her hand. “Because he’s too young,” she finally blurted. “I have just lost
my husband. I cannot fathom the thought of losing my son.”

So there it was. 
Against his better judgment, he took her free hand in his massive one, rubbing
the fingers gently.  He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.

“How old is
Hunt?”

She squeaked as
she spoke. “Five years.”

He fought off a
smile. “Aye, he’s far too young still. You do not have to worry about sending
him to foster for two more years at least.”

The hand came
away from her eyes, the wet lavender orbs shimmering with emotion. “Why must I
send him away at all? Why can he not stay here, with me, and learn to be a
knight? Where is it written in law that he must be sent away?”

She was growing
more grieved with each passing word.  For lack of a better action, Tevin put
his enormous arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his cheek on the
top of her head.
I would do this for anyone rightfully distressed
, he
told himself. But he knew, deep down, that he would not. He had, in fact, never
done it before.  Now it seemed as if he was looking for any excuse to pull Lady
Penden into his arms.

“There is no law
that says a child must be sent away,” he said quietly. “But the purpose of
being sent away to foster is to learn skills and knowledge from those not your
family.  It is a sharing of wealth and knowledge that builds strength of
character in men. Wouldn’t you like your son to learn to be a knight from men
who have traveled the world doing just that?”

She sniffled.  “I
don’t like it. I will not do it.”

He gave her a
squeeze before he realized he did it. “Hush, now. There is no use in working
yourself up over something that is a few years away. You’ll not lose your son
any time soon, I promise.”

Her head came
up, gazing at him with those magnificent eyes.  “If I do not want to send him
away, I do not have to, do I?”

“Nay.”

Only then did
she seem to relax. Tevin realized almost too late that she was far too close;
he could feel her breath on his face. With her wet eyes and sweet lips, he felt
an overwhelming urge to kiss her. The very thought startled him, distressed
him, causing a violent outburst of contention within him.   The woman was a new
widow, grieving over the loss of her beloved husband. She was not a woman to be
trifled with.  Much to his dismay, however, she put her head back down, right
onto his shoulder. He swore he felt her nestle against him.  It was a damn
sweet feeling.

“Thank you, my
lord,” she said softly. “Your words bring me great comfort.”

“It is right
that they should,” he said quietly. “I tell you the truth.”

Her reply was to
lift her head, put a soft hand on his jaw, and tenderly kiss his cheek. Then
she rose and was gone.

Tevin sat there
for several long minutes, his heart thumping against his ribs and the spot on
his face where she had kissed him blazing with sensation.  As small a gesture
as it was, as perfectly innocent, it was the most significant kiss of his life.
He felt it down to his soul.  And he knew, at that moment, that he was in a
good deal of trouble.

But thoughts of
trouble quickly fled when Myles entered the hall, his blue eyes fixing on his
liege.  He made straight for the table.

“I saw Lady
Penden in the solar,” he said to Tevin. “She looks much better today. Have you
spoken with her at all?”

Oh… yes
,
Tevin thought. “I have,” he said evenly. “She does seem much better, though now
her distress seems to be with the thought of sending her son to foster.”

Myles brow
furrowed. “What?” he sat down opposite Tevin. “What brought that up?”

“A conversation
with someone apparently broached the subject,” Tevin replied. “I have spent the
past several minutes attempting to convince her that it was far too soon to
worry about sending her son away.”

Myles snorted,
looking around the table to see if there was any ale or wine available. Seeing
none, he summoned a servant. As the man went to do his bidding, Myles turned
back to Tevin.

“I believe we
may have more trouble on our hands, my lord,” he said. “‘I have just come from
a most distressing exchange with Charles.”

Tevin was glad
for the change in subject, even if it was about Charles. “What happened?”

Myles shook his
head, with regret. “I fear his madness is gaining,” he said. “He was in the
knight’s quarters not a half hour ago asking for a weapon.”

Tevin found he
had little tolerance when it came to the madness of Charles Penden.  “Before
you continue, you should know that he struck Lady Cantia this morning. I was
witness to it. I ordered him from the keep, not to return until my anger had cooled.”

Myles stared at
him a moment in disbelief. “He
struck
her?” he repeated. “My God… Brac
would have had his head. His father had always been inordinately jealous of
Lady Cantia, mostly because she held Brac’s attention captive. Charles could
never come to terms with the fact that he was not the center of his son’s
world, just as Brac was the center of his.  There is years of contention
between Charles and Lady Cantia, all of it Charles’ fault.”

Tevin’s jaw
flexed. “Then it would seem that the Lady needs to be protected from her
father-in-law, for clearly, with Brac gone, he feels no need to hide his
hostile feelings for her.”

A steward
brought some wine and Myles poured himself a healthy measure. “I will be
vigilant, my lord, have no doubt.”

“He does not
resent the boy, does he?”

Myles took a
large swallow of the tart red liquid. “He adores Hunt. He would never harm
him.”

Though it was
one less thing to worry over, Tevin was still disturbed that Lady Cantia would
need protection from Brac’s insane father. “Back to your statement, then. Why
was Charles asking for a weapon?”

Myles cast him a
long glance. “He’s not in his right mind, my lord. He says much that he does
not mean.”

“Why does he
want a weapon?”

Myles sighed
heavily, toying with his cup. “I am not sure if he feels the need to protect
himself or the need to commit murder. He seems to think that you and Lady
Cantia are conspiring to take Rochester from him. He further blames you for
Brac’s death.”

Tevin scratched
his head, absorbing the information. “His lunacy grows,” he muttered. “I
suspect the man needs to be locked in the vault for his own protection as well
as the lady’s.  I do not need the added element of a mad man running amuck at
Rochester, not when there is much else that requires my attention.”

“Agreed,” Myles
said. “Would you have me corral him, my lord?”

Tevin shook his
head. “You should not be the one to arrest your liege. My men will do it.”

Myles downed the
last of his wine. He found that his fatigue was catching up with him. “Shall I shadow
the lady until Charles can be put away?”

“Nay,” Tevin
said. “You have enough to do with the command of Rochester. I shall make sure
the lady is well protected until Charles can be caged.”

“Very good, my
lord. If there is nothing else, I shall retire for a time.”

Tevin waved him
off, mulling over the conversation as Myles quit the hall.  He thought to find Sir
Dagan and order the imprisonment of Charles Penden until the man could get
himself under control, but as he rose from the bench, Lady Penden passed within
his line of sight, emerging from the solar and mounting the steps to the upper
floors.  A second later, Hunt and the big yellow dog also emerged and ran after
her. He could hear the dog barks echo in the stairwell.

Now he was
thinking on Cantia again.   With a sigh of frustration, mostly at himself, he
went about his business.

***

Charles Penden,
as suspected, did not react well to being imprisoned. He shouted conspiracy and
murder as Dagan and Gavril practically carried him to the gatehouse, dragging
him down the narrow steps and incarcerating him in the bottle prison.   The
name of the prison was derived from the shape of the cell; the door was in the
ceiling and the room was literally shaped like a bottle; wide at the bottom and
narrowed up towards the top. It was virtually impossible to escape from.  They
left Charles screaming at the bottom of it.

They stood over
the cell, looking into the hole that showed Charles at the bottom. The man was
distraught, incoherently shouting.  The two knights shook their heads.

“Crazy man,”
Dagan growled.

Gavril nodded in
agreement. Shorter and darker than his cousin, he was also the oldest man in
the viscount’s service at nearly forty years of age. He had seen much, done
much.  He did not have much patience for a mad baron.

“We’ve duties on
the wall,” he told his cousin. “Come along now.  Let’s leave the baron to his
hell.”

When they began
to move, Charles started yelling louder. “Wait!” he called. “Wait, I say! Do
not leave me here alone!”

Dagan called down
to him. “Cease your struggles, baron,” he advised. “A show of sanity may very
well see you released.”

Charles was
trying to climb up the sides of the prison, only managing a few feet before
sliding back down to the floor. “Release me and you shall be well rewarded,” he
clawed into the brick so hard that his fingers came away bloodied. “Let me out
of here and I shall give you all that I have. Let me out!”

Gavril shook his
head, jabbing his finger in Dagan’s arm to prompt the man to follow him. But
Dagan was finding a weird fascination out of watching Charles struggle.

“This is what I
mean, baron,” he said. “You sound like a mad man. Calm yourself and the
viscount may take pity on you.”

Charles had
stopped trying to scale the walls. He sat at the bottom of the pit, gazing up
into the only opening that provided both light and air.

“Release me and
I shall give you the lady and her dowry,” he offered, though there was defeat
in his tone. “She came to my son with a large dowry. Release me and I shall
give it, and her, to you. You could live like a king.”

“I’m sure I
could,” Dagan said with mock patience. “And whereby would you get the power to
do such a thing?”

“She belongs to
me now.” Spit flew from Charles’ lips as he spoke. “She and the boy are mine,
to do with as I please. Release me and I give her to you.”

Gavril continued
to walk away, up the steps that led to the gatehouse. But Dagan stood there a
moment, looking down at the crazed baron and entertaining possibilities that he
just as quickly chased away. 
A madman’s desperate plea
, he told
himself. But he had seen the lady and she was quite lovely. An interesting
thought, but not a realistic one.  ‘Twas a madman’s desperate plea.

He followed his
cousin from the vault.

CHAPTER SIX

The next two
weeks passed in relative peace.  Charles stayed in the vault, which gave Tevin
one less worry. Val was up and about, having been moved by Cantia to the third
floor of the keep now that she was able to maneuver the stairs, and life in
general seemed to be settling down for the first time since the death of Brac
Penden.  For the most part, there had been no more battles for the bridge,
though a week after Brac’s death there had been a minor skirmish. Tevin and his
knights had ridden to battle, but the enemy had quickly fled and the scuffle was
over almost before it began. After that, it was eerily peaceful. Tevin couldn’t
decide if he was grateful or suspicious.

He kept telling
himself that he needed to stay at Rochester due to its close proximity to the
bridge. It was the same story he told everyone. But two weeks after Brac’s
death, with the country relatively quiet, that excuse wasn’t holding much
weight. Truth be told, Tevin didn’t want to leave. He was coming to be
comfortable here and more than that, he did not like the thought of leaving
Cantia.  In fact, it was almost a desperation.