Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) Page 10

  "To loot and steal from them no doubt?" Erik said dryly.

  "Excellent idea," Camdork said. He rubbed his hands together. "It will be a fair romp when I get Lady Iliana under me. She must beget heirs if she is to keep her lands, with her father and brothers gone. And I'm not talking about the little bastard she carries about now."

  Erik clenched a fist, pressing it against his thigh.

  "When we officially marry, I will rule these lands." His smile vanished and his eyes narrowed. "My men tell me her men-at-arms kept them at bay when you arrived?"

  Erik laughed with genuine amusement, he could not do otherwise. "Is that what you were told?"

  Camdork stepped closer, very little evidence of amusement upon his face. "You accuse my men of lying to me?"

  "Not exactly. It's true your men were not given free entry. We waited outside until the gate was opened. It was my lady Iliana who kept your men at bay."

  Camdork's brows rose in disbelief. He uttered a short laugh. "You jest, of course. My men are seasoned warriors, many of them paid mercenaries. A woman would have no chance --"

  "She is skilled in sword play."

  Camdork laughed heartily.

  Erik shrugged.

  "Any skills she possesses are of no consequence. Soon I will be entrenched in the fair lady's life and I will decide where she goes," Camdork boasted.

  Impatiently, Erik said, "I would know how my man Jock fares. If he suffers under your care --"

  Camdork waved his hand in unconcern. "The man is alive, do not fret. I advise you to forget him until your duties are completed. Certainly, you should have no complaint. 'Tis a simple life here, you will not have to work overmuch. My men report you give them a fine sport in the training yard." The other man eyed him speculatively. "Perhaps a time will come we shall see who is better at this game of warfare."

  "I do not play at war," Erik said dismissively.

  Camdork grinned. "There may come a time when you change your mind. Now, I expect to hear what goes on inside these walls. I dare not come too close in case I am seen. And do not lie," he added with a snarl.

  Erik said, "You were mistaken about the reception you would receive, as perhaps you are incorrect about what goes on inside the keep. Iliana was not overjoyed to welcome Camdork and his men at arms."

  Camdork snickered. "Yea, I suspected as much, but it was not something you needed to worry over. She is a woman -- a few fine jewels and she will be swayed into my arms." A gleam appeared in his eye. "If not, I will enjoy subduing her. You can help matters along. Prepare her for my coming."

  "How so?" Erik grew rigid.

  "I have no desire to quell a weeping woman, nor hold one in my arms."

  "Be more specific," barked Erik, his fury rising. "You would ask me to bed your intended wife?"

  "Nay, not that!" Camdork exclaimed fiercely. Looking about the stable, he lowered his voice. "I warn you if you touch her, I'll rip off your arms and legs and put you out for the dragons. Merely prepare her for the possibility, bring it up in conversation. Now that I am clean shaven and free of my beard, we look even more alike, and she will be none the wiser. Perhaps I shall come under cover of darkness to claim that which is my due. I've a need to taste of this sister." A smile grew upon his lips as if the idea took hold.

  In a cold rage Erik advanced on the other man. Raising his fist, he swung it without thought. "You ask too much, you loathsome bastard." The impact of flesh on flesh was a loud crack on the still night air. In the shadowy night, Camdork flew backwards.

  Disbelieving, Camdork stumbled to his feet, pressing a fist to his mouth and looking at the blood on his knuckles. With an infuriated roar, he surged forward, catching Erik in the midsection. With a powerful swipe of his arms, Camdork brought Erik crashing to the ground.

  Camdork drew his boot back and Erik caught the flash of steel. He caught the other man's foot before it thrust into his ribs. Mightily, he twisted the foot, eliciting a groan from the other man. Shoving him away, Erik evaded the blade which swiped by his neck and reached forward to catch the other's legs with his feet. Tripping him, Erik pinned Camdork to the ground, his fingers tangling in his greasy hair and yanking his head back. Knocking the blade onto the dirt floor, Erik pressed Camdork's windpipe.

  "Shall I end it here?" he bit out, pulling the man's head back even further. "Give me a reason not to snap it like a twig."

  "Nay, nay, desist," muttered Camdork, his face drawn into lines of pain, the muscles of his throat working furiously. With a grunt of disgust, Erik released the fistful of hair and stood up. Turning his back, Erik began to saddle his horse.

  Hoarsely, Camdork said, "Bah! It is you who are crazed. I shall take the woman in lust, but you, you are already ensnared. Has she grown upon you then?"

  Erik turned from the man, looking at the silhouette of softly rolling hills. They were so different from the mountains he had become accustomed to.

  "She is no dumb, accepting animal of the fate you have prepared."

  "If you think to trick me with words --" Camdork spit blood. Feeling his jaw, he stood and came closer to Erik. "Ponder this. My men have boarded your vessel, bringing your crew and ship under my command. I can burn your ship as she sits in the water. Either you continue to do as I bid you or I shall carry out that very deed."

  Erik's jaw tightened. "You are a bastard, Camdork."

  "Should you try to mislead me, I will slaughter your crew. And you will be an especially easy target."

  "In my time, you would be deemed a coward," Erik said with deliberate calm.

  Camdork lurched forward, spitting blood from between his teeth. "I warn you, pretender, I will not hesitate to kill you should your usefulness be outweighed by your arrogance. I have eyes everywhere," he warned. "And take care with my horse. He is devoted to me, you know."

  Erik patted the horse's nose as the animal nudged him.

  "And do not make him soft," Camdork snapped. "You pat and pamper him, he will be useless."

  Erik raised a brow. "Or you will gain his trust and he will take you far," he said softly.

  "You eat my food, wear my fighting garments, and now you ruin my horse."

  Erik gathered the reins in one hand and turned to mount the destrier.

  A faint sound, he turned as Camdork rushed him. A split second he saw the glint of a blade. Putting a hand up, he blocked the knife from his neck, but the blade came down and slit wide the sleeve of his tunic. Feeling the destrier move restlessly at his back, Erik drew his other fist back and punched Camdork in the collarbone. With a roar the man lunged at him again, but the destrier, with a squeal, pushed past Erik in the narrow alley and rushed between the two men and out the stable.

  Camdork muttered a string of curses, lying on the dirt floor where the horse had knocked him down, holding his arm and hand.

  Erik swayed, watching the other man warily as blood ran warmly down over his hand.

  "Get up and get out," Erik said. "You put all this in motion and then you disappear for days and weeks. I'll stay until I'm ready to go."

  Camdork got to his knees and then gained his feet. "This is not over. I'll have Mandrak reverse the spell. All will see you for the pretender you are."

  "I will imagine all will be greatly relieved to see the truth that I am not the beast Camdork. Now, you will not harm anyone else here -- be gone."

  Camdork walked back to the horse he had ridden, jerked the animal forward with his good hand. "If I had wanted to kill you, it would be done." He mounted clumsily and disappeared into the shadows of the yard.

  Erik whistled softly for his horse, and as he did so, the black owl he'd seen earlier left the old tree, screeching in the early morning as it flew off. Erik looked at the blood still running down his arm. With a grimace, he knew he needed to take care of it right away. He was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. He walked to the stable door and whistled again, and the destrier came trotting into the yard.

  "My Lord," said Edward, running in behind the hors
e. "Your horse --" Seeing the blood on Erik's arm, Edward rushed forward.

  "I am fine, get the horse, lad." Edward bent to retrieve the horse's broken rein and led the animal inside to secure him in his stall.

  Erik noticed a small linen pouch almost buried in the dirt and reached for it. He studied it curiously, the painstaking stitches which kept a small flap closed, and in rubbing it between his fingers he realized there was something inside.

  "What goes on here?"

  Erik spun around. He had not heard Ulrich come into the yard. He pushed the small pouch into his belt.

  Ulrich stared at him suspiciously. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig," he said grimly.

  "Aye, that I am."

  Ulrich went into the stable and then came out and thrust a wad of linen strips toward him.

  "Thank you." Erik quickly wound the strips around his arm, trying to stem the flow of blood.

  Edward came from the stalls, skirted Ulrich and came to Erik's side. "My lord, Sorenta can give you a healing lotion. I will go find her."

  "Thanks lad," Erik said, and turned to Ulrich when the lad ran off.

  Ulrich moved closer. "Camdork cannot be trusted," he said in a low voice. "He grows more dangerous with each passing day."

  "And yet you ride with him."

  "In these times, all manner of alliances are formed," muttered Ulrich.

  Erik looked at him. "You knew he was here." Erik ripped what remained of the sleeve from his tunic.

  "I know all the comings and goings," Ulrich said gruffly. "But there is naught I can do to interfere in what is the sorcerer's business."

  Erik lifted a brow. "There will come a time when you will have to choose a side," he said softly, and he left Ulrich to ponder his words.

  ¤¤

  Iliana stoked the fire in the hall before the morning light stole over the mountain. She became aware of a shadow as someone moved across the hall, bumped into a stool and then muttered a soft curse. She lifted the iron rod from the hot coals of the fire pit and stood, holding the rod before her as she turned toward whoever lurked on the far side of the great room. "Who is there?" she asked loudly. "Show yourself."

  "Iliana." Camdork's deep voice came from the shadows. "Edward was unable to find Sorenta."

  Iliana reached for a candle on the table and lit the wick in the fire. Camdork stood there, holding his arm against his stomach. Instantly, she took in the blood soaked cloth. She dropped the iron rod onto the hearth stone with a clatter and hurried forward.

  "What have you done?" Alarmed, she gently urged him toward the meager light.

  "A flesh wound," he admitted. "I will have some of Sorenta's potions and it will be right as rain on the morrow."

  Iliana made a disgusted sound as she carefully unbound the blood soaked linen strips. "It is already the morrow and it certainly does not look right as rain." She hooked a stool with her toe and nudged it to the fire pit. "Sit down."

  He did not comply at once and she glared at him. Camdork smiled.

  Iliana narrowed her eyes. "You are drunk."

  He shook his head, but his eyes danced in the meager light. "I don't think you can get drunk on that foul tasting cider Thomas brews in the cellars."

  Iliana pressed her lips together to keep back a smile, knowing Thomas' reputation in that regard. "Sit."

  "He makes a much better carpenter," Camdork remarked, sitting on the stool and staring up at her.

  Iliana sucked in her breath as she looked at the nasty wound along his forearm. "Did you get drunk and incite a fight?"

  He looked at her, one brow raised indignantly. "No, my lady. Camdork had a notion to sink his knife into my back." He grinned. "The cider came later to dull the pain."

  Iliana heated water in a small pot over the fire pit, but looked back at him now.

  He shrugged. "You know my name is not his."

  Iliana pondered his answer as she cleaned the wound, then retrieved Sorenta's medicinal powder from the basket she kept in the hall. "This must be changed every day and kept very clean." She leaned over him as she worked the healing powder into the wound. Despite his slightly inebriated state, his scent was more the brisk outdoors than the sour smell of cider and ale. Her gaze locked with his, and an uncomfortable heat began to brew within her stomach. "I also have several gemstones which will aid in healing," she said abruptly. "I will wrap them in linen and you must sleep with them at night."

  "And will these gemstones keep me warm?" he asked with humor.

  Iliana stared at his face so close to hers. He sat very still, and if he had moved to imprison her within his arms, she could easily have tipped him backwards on his stool. She blinked warily, her palm now on his chest. A man well made, handsome despite his many scars and with a smile that promised delights both wicked and tantalizing. Deep in her heart something softened.

  Iliana had walked a lonely path for many years, but now she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Although a light touch, it made her wish for more.

  He came to his feet and as he did so something fell to the floor.

  Iliana looked down at the small pouch lying at the base of the hearth. Slowly, she bent and lifted it, then looked at him.

  "Do you know what that is?" he asked.

  "Yes." A cold, hard knot clutched her stomach where moments before desire had curled.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  Iliana grabbed a knife from the table, quickly slashed the pouch and tipped the contents onto her palm. In the firelight the small emerald chips winked and seemed to have a life of their own.

  She bit back the overwhelming disappointment, the tears that threatened. "This gem pouch belonged to my maid Agnes, the girl who was murdered."

  She saw the understanding on his face and Iliana felt sick. "Leave."

  "Camdork," he muttered, but he said not another word. He left the hall as she had bid him to do.

  Iliana put her arms around her waist, staring at the flaming logs, sick at heart where moments before she rejoiced.

  Chapter Eight

  Iliana hurried across the courtyard, hoping to catch one of the serving girls before they all left for the fair. Slipping through the postern door, she saw Rowenna and waved at the young girl.

  "Rowenna," she called. The girl hesitated, then looked back, her deep vermillion costume standing out from the others.

  "Yes, my lady?" Her freckled face lit with a smile as she walked back toward her.

  Iliana held up her arm, displaying the ribbons in her hand.

  "I have a small favor I would ask of you, Rowenna. Could you see that the children receive these ribbons?"

  Rowenna's smile faltered, her face became grave. "My lady, such grand ribbons. Do you not attend the festivities?"

  Iliana forced a smile, then admitted, "I think it would be best if I did not."

  Rowenna looked worried, her brows knit. Finally, she blurted, "My lady, no one blames you for Agnes' death."

  Iliana felt a coldness clutch at her insides.

  "'Tis true," whispered the young girl. She moved her face closer to Iliana's. Iliana could see each of the fine blond hairs of the young girl's brows and lashes.

  Rowenna lowered her voice, "Mandrak has a mind to frighten us, but we won't give up hope. We know you will find a way to banish his lot."

  Warmth replaced the coldness in Iliana. Despite the grip of fear she'd been under, she managed a laugh. "Rowenna, if only I had your certainty. I have heard that many have already fled."

  "Some have fled, that is true, but many still believe in you, my lady. Please," softly, her hand touched Iliana's sleeve, "I beg of you, please come to the fair. And what of little William? He will delight in the treats of the fair. You will be sore missed if you do not."

  Iliana was touched. "Thank you. I will think on it. I would still ask that you give the children the ribbons."

  "I shall be pleased to do so." Shyly, the young Rowenna whispered, "I thank you again for this beautiful costume." Curtseying, the young gi
rl then ran to catch up with her friends, the colorful ribbons tucked into her belt.

  "Iliana."

  Catching her breath, Iliana whirled to see Camdork, the softness in her eyes unguarded. Quickly, she erected her guard once more and shoved one hand into the double belt of her tunic where she had stuffed Agnes' small pouch.

  He studied her. "I understand there is to be a celebration today?"

  "Yes." Iliana walked back into the courtyard.

  "I would be pleased if you would let me escort you."

  Iliana lifted a brow. "I think not."

  A large hand on her arm made her stumble to a halt. "We may as well have this out," he said. "I found that pouch, Iliana, near the stables."

  "Of course you did," she said coldly, pulling her arm from his grasp.

  "I am at a loss how to make you see I am not him," he said as she walked away.

  In truth, Iliana felt torn. In the short time he had been here, he had not shown any signs of cruelty. In fact, quite the opposite -- she had heard of how he'd saved the pregnant woman from being struck down the day of his arrival, and he had given orders the men were to sleep outside at night, thereby keeping her serving girls safe from their attack at night. What if she was wrong to persist in this hatred of him? What if he spoke the truth? And yet Agnes still lay dead.

  "I found the pouch when I encountered Camdork. It was on the ground after he stabbed me."

  Iliana felt torn. She remembered the words in the sacred circle. How could he be involved with the secret to the green gem?

  "There is nothing I can do to prove my innocence," he said, "until the day you see Camdork for yourself."

  "And yet by your word he skulks about the keep at night."

  "That is true. Though after our skirmish, his skulking may be impaired. He may have broken his hand and arm."

  Iliana sighed with frustration. "I wish --"

  "What?"

  "I wish my life tapestry would show him to me, but all I see are shadows."

  "Sometimes you have to go on the feeling inside your gut," he said. "I would not trust a tapestry to show me how my life should begin and end." And it was he who turned and walked away this time.