CHAPTER ONE
Aisley felt like a Christmas gift.
Or maybe a goose, all trussed up and waiting to be devoured by the hungry knights who milled about below like a pack of surly dogs. They were all full of wine and ale and food and eager for a prize. One would think the holy day was already upon them, the way the men feasted here at Edward’s court.
Frowning in disgust, Aisley saw the approach of her servant and turned away, unwilling to have Edith see her as she usually was not: powerless. But the woman had been with Aisley since birth and could tell her mood. “What is it, my lady?” she asked.
Aisley laughed bitterly. “What is it?” she echoed, her normally even voice harsh with anger. “I feel like a tournament prize, all wrapped up—” she whirled a hand downward to take in her fine new gown and ermine-lined cape “—and ready to be bestowed.”
“My lady—” Edith whispered, her tone urging caution.
Aisley cut off her words. “In the months since my father’s death, his holdings have continued to prosper under my hand,” she said. “Yet instead of receiving a reward for my efforts, it seems I am to be the reward given to some foul-smelling, money-grubbing wretch, simply because of our good king’s greed.”
“My lady!” Edith protested.
“’Tis not fair,” Aisley whispered, as she had so often in the past weeks. No matter how cleverly she had managed her father’s estates, how many suits she had successfully defended, how many crops she had brought to fruition—not to mention the household that ran so smoothly and tightly that it fairly sang like the string of a vielle—it was all for naught. In but a year the king’s summons had come, ordering her to wed.
“Hush,” Edith said. “It could be worse. At least you may select your own husband, and from the finest knights of the land, I might add.”
“Ha!” Aisley scoffed. “That honor comes to me only because I had enough money to pay for the privilege. Think you the king gave me a choice because of his love for me?”
“Hush,” Edith warned again. “Stop this dangerous, foolish chatter. For once in your life, behave yourself and pick wisely, using your head instead of your spleen.”
Aisley smiled grimly, unoffended by her servant’s words. Edith had been more a mother to her than anyone else, and Aisley could not curb the good woman’s tongue even if she tried. Instead, she sought to comfort the servant. “Don’t worry. I will pick wisely, dear Edith. I have a plan.”
Edith’s mouth dropped open, and she stepped back a pace in horror. “Oh, heaven help us,” she whispered. She was long familiar with Aisley’s schemes—schemes that never failed to get the young woman into trouble. Feeling the press of panic, she moved forward again, her hands clasped together in supplication. “My lady, please, cast aside whatever poor design you have devised.”
Aisley smiled, this time more sweetly. “I am only taking your advice to cull sagely, Edith,” she said. “The king told me that I must select one of his knights, did he not?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “He said any of his knights. That includes all in his realm, does it not?” Aisley paused, ignoring Edith’s confused and wary expression.
“My lady—”
“So I have made up my mind,” Aisley said. The tilt of her dainty mouth told Edith that Aisley was up to no good, and she shivered for the fate of her charge. Since the cradle, Aisley de Laci had been a handful, growing up with three brothers in a rough-and-tumble fashion, with no mother to teach her mild ways. Now, the two eldest boys having succumbed to a fever, the third having been killed in the latest Holy Crusade, and her father only recently gone, Aisley was the sole survivor. She had proved hardier than all of them, strong and clever, but she was also stubborn and sometimes foolhardy.
Privately, Edith thought that marriage to a decent man would do her charge good. To be ruled by a firm but warm hand and have babies of her own to raise might bring out the girl’s gentler nature. Edith had even held out hope that this decree of King Edward’s would turn out well, for Aisley was already seventeen and showed no interest in pursuing a husband herself. Yes, Edith had hoped, but she had not taken into account her mistress’s willful nature, which was making itself apparent in the lady’s tone of voice.
“And if he does not approve my choice, then I am, I assume, free to return home,” Aisley said.
Edith’s mind raced as she sought to fathom Aisley’s plan. For some reason her mistress thought the king would not allow her to marry the knight she would name. Edith blanched as one solution presented itself. “My lady, you would not ask for a man already married!”
Aisley’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, I had not thought of that.” She tilted her head to the side as if considering such a course. “No, I do not think Edward would accept that. But he will hold to my choice. He must,” she said more firmly.
Edith took a breath, afraid to learn the worst, but compelled to ask. “And who will it be, my lady?” she asked. Aisley’s smile reminded her of a cat that had strayed into a dairy, and her trepidation grew.
The young woman turned a disdainful glance over the knights assembled below. “I shall choose Baron Montmorency,” she said.
Edith flinched at the mention of the most feared of all the king’s men. Cloaked in mystery, the Red Knight was rumored to be in league with the devil, a creature of the shadows who practiced the dark arts from the depths of his isolated keep. And the very thought of him was too much for Edith, who sank to the floor in a swoon.
Aisley squared her shoulders as she stepped into the hall, empty now but for Edward, his queen, and a few of his servants and retainers. The king had had the grace to give her a private audience, but Aisley was not sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Should Edward attempt to overturn her decision, he would find it more difficult in front of a room full of followers. Here, with only this small group, she wasn’t so sure.
But Aisley would not let herself think of defeat. A warrior did not.
Edward was still handsome, tall and long legged, with golden hair and bright blue eyes, but Aisley had never been swayed by a man’s figure. She eyed him dispassionately as she knelt before him. “Good evening, Aisley,” he said. “I hope you have found your stay at court enjoyable.”
Aisley nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, of course, my lord.”
“I hope you have spent your time judiciously, so that you might find the best husband among my knights assembled here?” He spoke in a sly tone, and the others grinned and chuckled at his teasing.
Aisley did not, but licked her lips nervously at the implication of his words. “My lord did not limit my selection to those at court,” she said as calmly as she could. “I may take to husband any of your knights, may I not?”
Edward’s eyes narrowed in surprise, but he only nodded curtly in answer.
Aisley lifted her chin, prepared to speak, yet she found the name harder to utter than she had thought. She took a breath, slow and even, and loosed it. “Then I choose for my husband Baron Montmorency of Dunmurrow,” she answered.
Her announcement was greeted by the response she had expected. Gasps and the hushed murmurs of shock surrounded her. She did not have to strain to catch the phrases so often associated with Montmorency. “The Red Knight... the devil’s own... a sorcerer... a follower of the black arts...” Although Aisley had heard it all before, somehow the words sent a shiver up her spine now that they were being directed at her.
She shook off the dread that threatened and glanced at those present. Everyone was looking at her with varying degrees of horror. Everyone, that is, except the king and his wife. Anger showed on Edward’s face, though he masked it quickly, and Aisley tried not to smile in triumph. Naturally, he was piqued because she had won. Now, would he be gracious enough to hold to his word?
Edward appeared about to speak but was halted by his wife, who leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear. Perhaps the queen would temper his rage, Aisley thought, for it was well known that Eleanor was a softening influence on her husband.
Although listening to his wife, Edward glanced sharply back at Aisley, and she tensed under his regard. His blue eyes seemed to search into her very soul, assessing her strengths, her weaknesses, the very tenor of her heart. She held his gaze, though, and as she did, Edward smiled. She felt herself relax when she heard him laugh softly. He thought it all amusing, she realized with relief. He would be gracious enough to concede her victory, and she could soon be on her way, a free woman.
He leaned toward her and grinned. “Montmorency it is then,” he said.
Aisley’s eyes widened in surprise. She had expected the king to deny her decision, perhaps to force her to choose another, but never to let her marry the Red Knight, a virtual recluse who shunned those outside his dark demesne. She felt herself sway on her feet, then stood firm, gathering her wits about her.
The king was smiling at her shock. Obviously, displeased with her attempts at trickery, he would punish her for her outrageous behavior. Oh, dear Lord, Edith was right. She would now be in worse trouble than before unless… Aisley’s thoughts, already rushing to form a new plan, were interrupted by Edward’s speech.
“Naturally, I expected you to choose one of the barons you have met here during your stay, but, as you pointed out, I did give you leave of all my knights,” he said. “You have made an unusual choice, one that I would not have made for you, but I see no reason to deny you your heart’s desire.” His words were so softly laced with sarcasm that Aisley felt a shiver run up her spine.
“I think you will be good for Montmorency—a bright angel for our Red Knight. Mayhap you will tame him, eh?” he asked, directing his question to the others, and his audience laughed nervously.
Eleanor smiled serenely beside him, and Aisley knew she would have no help from that quarter.
“Very well then,” the king said, looking satisfied. “I give you good journey. You may leave on the morrow, and you will be at Dunmurrow before Christmas.” He nodded in curt dismissal, and Aisley stared, aghast. So soon? She recovered herself enough to curtsy and mutter her thanks—empty, hollow phrases—and then left the hall, unable to believe that she was to marry a man she knew only by black and menacing rumor.
Aisley was in the midst of packing when Edith appeared, trembling, at her elbow. “Well, my lady?” the servant asked breathlessly.
Aisley did not even bother to turn around, but folded a gown into her chest. “We leave in the morning for Dunmurrow.”
Edith let out a wail that resembled a funeral chant, and Aisley finally turned around to eye her servant. “Don’t fall into another faint, please.’’
“Why, my lady? Why would you choose such a monster when you had your pick of the handsomest knights in the land?” Edith asked. “Lackland or de Fiennes would have been happy to wed you, and they would have been kind masters.”
But they still would have been masters, Aisley thought. And that was a notion she could just not accept. Never in her life had she suffered a master. Her father and brothers had left her to her own devices. She never had been forced to do another’s bidding or follow anything but her own inclinations, and she was not about to start now, she thought as she shoved a pair of slippers in with her clothing.
“But Montmorency!” Edith gasped, crossing herself. “He is evil! ’Tis said he is an alchemist, a practitioner of the black arts, a worshiper of the devil! That is why they call him the Red Knight. And now he has holed up in the keep of Dunmurrow, never venturing out, calling wizards and sorcerers to him there to learn their secrets, and then casting them out as he conjures for his own dark purposes. Tis said that no one who enters his lair ever returns.” The words that had tumbled out so rapidly seemed to die on her lips as Edith bent her head and shivered with fright.
Aisley finally turned from her task and took the servant in her arms. “Rumors! What nonsense,” she scoffed. “All the great warriors have nurtured legends about themselves so as to strike fear into the hearts of their foes. This Red Knight is but mortal man. You will see.” She patted Edith awkwardly and bid her sit down upon a stool, while she turned back to her packing.
“But why, my lady, why?” Edith moaned. “Was this your wretched scheme—to send us into evil?”
Aisley’s hands halted their task but for a moment before she reached for her Psalter. “I admit I had hopes that the king would not favor my choice, but he cared not to admit that I had tricked him. He seeks to teach me a lesson, that is all,” she said as she placed the holy book in with her other belongings.
Edith wailed again, a soft keening sound that set Aisley’s teeth on edge. “Stop this foolishness at once, Edith,” she said, straightening. “Have no worries about this fearsome knight. I promise you we will not be at Dunmurrow long enough to be frightened of him.”
Edith’s head shot up, a look of bemused inquiry on her face, while Aisley smiled grimly. “Think you that Montmorency wants a wife prying into his dark business?” Aisley asked. “I think not. He has no interest in court intrigues and does not quest for money. He will refuse me, and I shall be free to return home, unwed,” she said, with more certainty than she felt.
“But that would be folly!” Edith sputtered. “Even the Red Knight could not defy an order of the king.”
Aisley shrugged. “I have heard that Montmorency lives under his own rules.”
“Yes, but surely he will not gainsay Edward?”
Aisley smoothed out the garments that she’d hastily stacked in the chest and reached for the heavy wooden top. “And if he does not, than I shall be wed. One brute is the same as another to my way of thinking,” she said. And she slammed down the lid, so forcefully it nearly broke in two.
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