The Conquest Read online

  Severn was indeed angry. Theirs were the last name to be called to enter the procession, and already he could see that some of the people in the stands were beginning to leave. It was time for dinner, and they'd looked down the line, seen that the Peregrines lacked the sumptuous attire of the others, and decided they were not worth seeing.

  Anger raged through him. People were judging men on the sparkle of their clothes and not on their skill at arms. Since when was a man's worth based on what he wore instead of how he acted?

  The act of charity from that man, that Colbrand, had been the final straw. Severn couldn't wait to flatten that softling on the lists. He imagined standing over him and laughing.

  Severn motioned for his men to fall in behind him, and he waited for the herald's signal that the Peregrines could at last go before the stands. Severn saw the herald watching the stands and saw that he was waiting for the Marshall family to leave before he allowed the Peregrines to go.

  It was when Severn saw Lady Anne rising to leave that he decided he wasn't going to wait. Even if no one else wanted to see him, he knew she did. Hadn't she promised him a reward for saving her?

  He tossed his helmet to the ground, then spurred his horse forward, ignoring the shouts of the herald, ignoring the laughter of the people around him, concentrating only on getting to the beautiful Lady Anne.

  At the sound of the thundering hooves of his war-horse everyone halted and turned to look. Severn had an impression of a man standing beside Lady Anne, but he didn't look at him. Severn bent to the right, his thighs holding onto the horse as his armor-clad right arm caught Lady Anne about the waist and pulled her to him. He tried to kiss her, but he was so sweaty from sitting for hours in the sun in his helmet that his face merely slid across hers.

  At the far end of the grounds he halted his horse, then triumphantly set her on the ground. "I have taken my reward," he said loudly to all the people that he knew were watching.

  Lady Anne's eyes were alive and bright, and she looked as though she wanted to say something, but he didn't give her a chance before he rode away. Later there would be time for her to whisper love words to him. He rode away without looking back to see the impression he'd made. But there was no laughter. He had shut them all up.

  As Zared watched her brother break the rules and gallop ahead and snatch the Lady Anne from beside her father she prayed to be struck dead on the spot.

  Her prayer was not answered.

  What was Severn about? She knew next to nothing about tournament etiquette, but she could see that what he'd done was awful, truly awful. They could have quietly paraded past the stands, and perhaps their worn, dirty clothes would have caused little comment, but after that…

  She looked at Lady Anne, standing where Severn had left her, her hands in fists at her side. Zared knew fury when she saw it, and Lady Anne was murderous.

  All around her the people were silent, too stunned to make a sound. Then, to her left, came one loud, sneering laugh. Zared turned and saw it was the boy Jamie. He was standing there in his white tunic and hose, so clean and neat, and Zared's own rage came to the surface.

  She reined her horse toward the boy, lowered the staff of the Peregrine banner as though it were a lance, and charged. The boy's eyes widened in horror as he began to run.

  Zared never reached him, for the long banner trailed on the ground, tangled in her horse's feet, and made it stumble. Zared, leaning forward in her charge, kept going forward even when the horse stopped. She went flying over the horse's head, landing flat on her back. For some moments she could neither breathe nor think. She just lay there looking up at the sky.

  The first thing she heard was the roar of laughter.

  Standing over her was Jamie, his hands on his knees as he looked down at her and laughed. To her right she could hear hundreds more people laughing.

  She was too dazed to move, or to do anything but lie there.

  "Cease!" she heard someone say, and she looked up to see Colbrand bending over her. In his white and silver he looked like an angel.

  "Are you hurt, boy?"

  Zared managed to shake her head, and when he held out his hand to help her up she smiled at him.

  "Good," Colbrand said, smiling back. "Let me look at you."

  He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her about, dusting off the back of her. Zared thought she might die from the pleasure of his touch. She looked at his face, at his blue, blue eyes, and felt her knees go weak.

  "I think you are hurt," Colbrand said, and to Zared's disbelief, he swept her into his arms.

  It was too much for Zared. She fainted.

  Anne Marshall bathed her face in cool water and looked in the metal mirror on the wall. Her face was still red from the scrubbing she had given it when she'd tried to remove that man's sweat from her body. Her ribs still ached from where he'd pulled her off the ground, his armor digging into her, bruising her skin.

  For a moment her ears seemed to ring with the laughter of the people after that… that… She could think of no name for him. He had humiliated her, made her an object of ridicule before hundreds of people. Even that odious old man who had married Catherine that morning had laughed at her.

  She looked in the mirror and saw her eyes change from rage to tears. If only she could have remained in France with her mother… If only she had never come to the barbarous land where men were little more than animals. If only—

  She didn't finish the thought, for the door to her chamber burst open, and her father entered. He didn't bother to knock, never bothered to show the least respect to either of his daughters.

  "People are below eating, and they want to see my unmarried daughter," he said.

  "I am not well," Anne said truthfully. "I cannot eat."

  "You will eat if I have to force you. I'll have no daughter who sulks because a man touched her."

  Anne's self-pity left her. "A man! That barbarian, that pagan! You call that animal a man? I have encountered dogs with more sensibilities than that one."

  "You don't know a man from a dog." Hugh snorted. "You women took tournaments, these preparations for war, and turned them into showings of fashion. Were it up to you, the man with the most feathers or gold embroidery would win the prizes. The Peregrine boy isn't—"

  "Peregrine!" Anne gasped. "Is that who he was? I should have guessed. He is brother to that man who married poor Lady Liana. It is no wonder—"

  "Married two years and she's given him one son, and another due any day. The father of these Peregrines bred nothing but sons."

  "There is more to life than sons!" Anne spat at him.

  Hugh Marshall took a step toward his daughter, but Anne didn't allow herself to flinch. "I would not look down my nose too much at him. You will perhaps join this Lady Liana in breeding Peregrine sons."

  "No," Anne said under her breath. "Please…" she began, but she stopped. She wasn't going to beg her father for anything. She straightened her shoulders. Remember, she thought, it was her brains against his power. "If you wish grandsons who are stupid, then by all means marry me to the man. No doubt the king will want one of these Peregrines at his table. What I saw today assures me of the suitability of a Peregrine at court. But perhaps that means naught to you. You would no doubt like to see your grandsons jeered at when they parade before the king. Perhaps you should ask His Majesty if he plans to invite this Peregrine knight to sit above the salt with him."

  Hugh glared at his daughter. He hated clever women, hated it when a woman said something he had not considered. Her mother had been like that, her tongue moving twice as fast as his brain. When she'd asked to leave and return to her people in France he had been more than happy to let her go.

  But at no cost was he going to allow his too-clever daughter to know that her words had confused him.

  "If I see you show your displeasure to this man, you will regret it," he said, then he quickly left the room. If he had no other considerations, he'd marry the witch to the roughest man he
could find, he thought. She needed a man who'd curb her tongue. But she knew that Hugh wanted grandsons. He'd not been able to get sons on a woman himself, so he must look to his puny daughters to give him grandsons. Much as he hated to admit it, the girl was right. He did not want grandsons who would be laughed at at a tournament. Even the king had chuckled at the sight of the dirty Peregrines.

  Hugh grimaced. Damn the girl. If there was anything he hated more than a clever female, it was a female who was right. He stormed down the hall to the stairs. In the next three days he'd find a husband for the girl and get rid of her. He wasn't going to put up with her sharp tongue and sharper brain. Let another man deal with her.

  After her father left Anne breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to be able to handle him—for the moment, anyway. But even as she hurriedly finished dressing she knew she would not always have the words to control him. He was as stupid as he was mean, and at one point he would forget about reason and act only on instinct. What Anne knew she had to do was to choose a man and get her father to approve of him. She had to find a man who could replace that filthy Peregrine in her father's mind.

  She lifted the three-foot-long cone-shaped henna and slipped it on her head, arranging it at the perfect angle so it was tipped far back. The heavy wire loop on her forehead that held the weight of the henna cut into her skin, but the pain soon lost its bite. She adjusted the soft, transparent silk veil over the henna and gave herself one last look in the mirror. She wanted to look her best because she was going hunting. Hunting for a man.

  When Zared awoke she was lying on a cot in her brother's tent, and through the open flap she could see that the sun was low in the sky. Feeling groggy, she didn't try to sit up. The last thing she clearly remembered was Colbrand picking her up in his strong arms.

  She smiled up at the tent roof and remembered the look of him, the smell of him, the sound of him, the—

  "So, you are awake."

  Languidly she turned her head to look at the man standing over her. But the light was behind him, and she couldn't see him very well. "Is there anything to eat? I'm hungry," she said.

  The man snorted. "It is, no doubt, hard work making a fool of yourself."

  "A fool of myself?" In puzzlement she squinted at the man. He seemed somewhat familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. He moved out of the bright light, his back to her, and she absently listened to dishes clattering and a noggin being filled. Her mind was full of Colbrand. Perhaps she had dreamed him. Perhaps no man alive could be as he was.

  "Eat this," the man said, and he thrust a wooden platter of meat and bread before her.

  She took the food, sat up on her elbow, and began to eat. The man sat on a stool beside the cot. Outside a clash of arms sounded. "It has begun!" she said, sitting up. "The fighting has started. Colbrand will need me." She started to get up, but a big hand pushed her chest just below her throat, and she sat back down.

  "What do you think—" she began, then her eyes widened as she looked at the man before her. It was the youngest Howard! "You!" she said under her breath, and immediately she reached for the knife hidden in her boot.

  "It isn't there," he said calmly. "I have removed all your weapons, and I must say I enjoyed looking for them."

  She put her head down and rammed him in the chest. He made a little woof sound, but then he caught her in his arms and easily held her.

  "Severn!" she shouted.

  He put his hand across her mouth. "Your brother is on the field." He paused. "As is Colbrand, the weakling."

  Zared stopped struggling against him. "Colbrand is not a weakling."

  "And you know so much, do you? Seen him fight a hundred times, have you?"

  "Let me go. My brother will chop you into little pieces. He'll—"

  "Yes, yes, you've said this."

  Zared realized that he was toying with her as she struggled against him, as a child and a parent might play. But his hands were roaming over her hips and thighs. With a push she shoved away from him to land back on the cot. She put her chin up and looked at him.

  "Take me, but do not sneak up on my brother. I will go with you and be your prisoner if you will not harm my brother. I will… do whatever you want if you will but keep your army from attacking my brothers."

  Tearle looked at her a long while, knowing she meant every word she said. For all her boy's hair and clothes, there was a woman underneath, a woman capable of sacrificing all for love.

  "I am here to harm no one. Your brother believes I am called Smith and that I have been sent here by Lady Liana."

  Zared gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Liana sent you?" she gasped.

  "No, of course not. Eat your food, and I'll tell you all."

  "I'll eat nothing a Howard gives me."

  "That is your choice, but you will perhaps get hungry, as I am to care for you and your brother for the next three days."

  "Care for? A Howard care for a Peregrine? You mean to poison us." She started to get up, but he pushed her down again, and she didn't fight him. "Where is Severn?" she whispered. "If you have harmed him, Rogan will—"

  "You are a bloodthirsty wench. I have harmed no one. Your brother is on the fields waiting his turn to knock some fool off his horse."

  "As he will knock you down," she said. "You have seen what a Peregrine blade can do," she said, referring to the cut she had given him.

  "And it still pains me. You owe me much for that, as well as for saving your brother's name."

  "No Peregrine owes a Howard," she said. There was a noise outside, and as Tearle turned to look Zared leaped from the cot and headed for the door. Tearle's foot tripped her, but he caught her before she fell.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To get my brother. To escape you. To fetch the king. Anyone!"

  "If you call your brother and he kills me, an unarmed man, then my brother will attack that heap of stones your brothers own and kill all the Peregrines." Tearle gave her a bored look. "Go. You are free to call your brother. Get my death over with, but please, beg him to use a very sharp sword. I do not wish to die a lingering death."

  Zared stood there blinking at him and felt as though she'd lost the war before the first battle. Everything he'd said was true. If Severn did kill the man, it could mean the deaths of all the Peregrines.

  Feeling very heavy, she sat down on the edge of the cot. "What do you want?" she whispered. "Why are you here?"

  "I have come to help," he said brightly. "From what I had heard of your family, I correctly guessed you would come to the tournament in rags."

  "We do not wear rags," Zared said indignantly.

  He curled his upper lip as he looked at her worn and greasy tunic. "Rags," he repeated. "Days ago I sent one of my men to my brother to fetch clothing. I regretted he did not return in time to prevent this morn's disaster, but now your brother wears more suitable clothing."

  Zared was beginning to recover from the shock of waking to find a Howard bent over her. She went to the tent doorway and looked out. Standing near the lists was her brother, and he was wearing a black tunic over his armor. She could not be sure from a distance, but it looked to be embroidered in gold.

  "My brother," Zared spoke slowly and evenly. "My brother is wearing clothing given him by a Howard?"

  "Yes, but he doesn't know that. He believes it comes from his lovely sister-in-law."

  Zared sat down again. "Tell me all," she whispered.

  "After you made a fool, an ass, a laughingstock of yourself yesterday over that colorless, weak, simpering Colbrand, I—"

  "When I want a Howard's opinion, I will ask for it. Tell me what treachery you have done."

  "Treachery? I? I have been kind and generous while your Colbrand— All right, I will tell you. After you lost your senses I came to your rescue and took you from that spineless—"

  "You touched me? A Howard touched me?"

  "I have been touching you since I met you."

  "I shall have to
bathe."

  "Whatever accomplishes that is worth it."

  "Continue!" she spat at him.

  He smiled at her. How easy she was to provoke to passion. "There was no Peregrine tent, so I took you to another."

  "To Colbrand's?" she asked eagerly.

  "Nay, not there. I would rather have thrown you into a pit of vipers than take you there."

  "With a Howard I would rather go into a pit of vipers."

  Tearle snorted. "I knew I had much to do and you would be a hindrance to me, so I gave you a draught of— "

  "You have poisoned me," she whispered. "How long do I have to live? I must go to warn my brother. Does he die also?"

  She was almost outside before Tearle caught her. He grabbed her shoulders and put his nose to hers. "Do you not hear? No one is hurt. I have not come to hurt you. I gave you a drink to make you sleep so I could do my work without your hindrance."

  "Without my sounding an alarm," she said, jerking out of his grip.

  "That, too." His voice softened. "Come, sit down. Eat."

  "I would never eat what a Howard touched."

  He took her plate from the cot, tore away a piece of bread and ate it, then cut off a piece of meat. "The food is not poisoned."

  Zared was still not convinced even though she was very hungry. "Why are you here?" she repeated.

  "I came…" He trailed off, for he didn't know why he was there. Some part of him said he wanted an end to the hatred, but another part knew that if it weren't for that angry young woman, he wouldn't care what happened between his brother and the Peregrines. He had no idea why he was so interested in her. There were many other women prettier. Others who were richer. Nearly all women were sweeter-tempered than she was. Yet there he was, and he didn't think he could leave if he wanted to.

  "I came to end the feuding," he said at last.

  "To end…" Zared was so stunned she sat on the cot.

  "You see, my brother is obsessed with the hatred between our families. Your entire family is concerned with little else. No, do not deny it. It is all you talk of, and I have seen the way you are prisoners in that falling-down castle of yours."