Midnight Warrior Read online

  “I’ve told you not to call me that. We are friends.”

  “Lord Richard would not approve of such a friendship.”

  She was silent a moment. “He need not know. We could keep it a secret, couldn’t we? Say we are friends.”

  Brynn was silent. She knew Adwen must need her friendship desperately to disobey her husband even in secret, but she did not want to say the words Adwen desired of her. She had tried to push Adwen away, to keep her at a distance. Friendship with the girl would keep her as much a prisoner at Redfern as Adwen.

  “I ask too much,” Adwen whispered. “Why should you wish to be friends with me? I am only a burden to you.”

  Pity rushed over Brynn in an inevitable tide. “Nonsense. We are friends … Adwen. Now will you go to sleep?”

  “What if the dream comes again?”

  She reached out and stroked Adwen’s hair. “Did it frighten you so?”

  “Not at first. I was happy to see him.”

  “Who?”

  “The warrior. He was on horseback riding up the hill. It was very dark and close to midnight.”

  “How could you know the hour?”

  “I just … knew. I could see the magic star behind him.”

  “Comet.”

  “He was in mail armor that glittered in the moonlight. I could not see his face, but I was sure he wouldn’t hurt me. But I was wrong, I saw Redfern burning.…”

  Brynn breathed a sign of relief as she realized this was no death dream. “It’s all this talk about William of Normandy. No wonder you’re unsettled.”

  “It wasn’t about that Norman. He wasn’t—it wasn’t him.”

  “Of course it is.” She tucked the cover around Adwen. “I overheard Lord Richard talking just last night in the dining hall about the danger of invasion by the Duke of Normandy.”

  “I remember. He was very angry. He said he had better things to do than follow King Harold into battle.” She sighed. “You don’t think it was a vision, then?”

  “It was a dream.”

  “He was so real … I could even see the glint of red in his hair from the fires behind him.”

  “A dream.”

  “I’m glad.” Adwen was silent for a long time, and Brynn thought she had drifted off to sleep. “I feel so alone. Will you lie beside me?”

  Brynn lay down on the bed and gathered Adwen’s delicate form close. She had grown thinner since she had lost the last child. Childbed fever had sapped her strength and Brynn was not sure another bout would not carry her away.

  “I like this. I feel safe,” Adwen whispered. “You held me like this the night I almost died. I was drifting away … and you pulled me back.”

  Brynn stiffened. “It was the herbal broth I gave you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then it was God,” she said quickly. “I’m a healer, not a sorceress.”

  “Have I offended?” Adwen asked anxiously. “I would never accuse you of such a thing. I only—”

  “Hush. All is well. Rest.”

  “And will you stay here until I go to sleep?”

  “I’ll stay.”

  Despair and desperation rushed through Brynn. It was happening again as it had happened time after time during the past three years. Adwen was asking for only this moment, but Gwynthal appeared farther away than ever. She was a healer. How could she run away from this sick child who begged for her friendship and would die without her care? She could escape Delmas, but Adwen’s need bound her to Redfern with chains of iron.

  “The star …” Adwen murmured drowsily. “I think you’re wrong, Brynn. He’s coming …”

  April 20, 1066

  Normandy

  “It’s a sign from God.” William of Normandy gestured to the brilliant comet and then turned to Gage Dumont with a smile. “Who could want more proof that my claim on the English throne is just?”

  “Who, indeed?” Gage Dumont said impassively. “But, of course, Harold of England is quite probably telling his barons the comet is a sign that his cause is just and that God is on his side.”

  William’s smile faded. “Are you saying that I am using God to further my claim for power?”

  “I’m only a humble merchant. Would I dare to accuse your grace of such blasphemy?”

  The impudent rascal would dare to tweak the beard of the Pope if it suited him, William thought with annoyance. He was tempted to give him a sharp set-down but restrained himself. “Hardly humble. It’s rumored you possess more wealth than I do. Is it true you have a grand palace in Byzantium?”

  “Rumors are often in error,” Dumont said in evasion.

  “And your castle at Bellerieve is said to be full of wondrous treasures from the East.”

  “I’m a merchant and a trader. As your grace knows, I often journey to the Byzantine to acquire goods. Do you begrudge me a few comforts to ease my days?” He raised a brow. “Perhaps you sent for me to ask to share my baubles?”

  William gestured impatiently. It was not Dumont’s riches he needed. “Bellerieve is also said to possess the finest soldiers and archers in Normandy.”

  Gage Dumont’s expression hardened. “Your knights think a lowly merchant is fair game. It was necessary to make sure I had the means to discourage them.”

  “I realize my knights can be a little … boisterous.”

  “Acts of rape and pillage are considered by some to be a trifle more than boisterous.”

  “Knights are trained only for warfare. It is understandable that they grow restless in times of peace.”

  “So restless, they ravage the helpless countryside. That is why I hired mercenaries to make sure I was not equally helpless.”

  William decided it time to abandon a defensive position and attack. “You killed Jean of Brestain last year.”

  Wariness flickered in Gage’s expression. “True.”

  “It caused a great uproar among my barons. They do not like commoners interfering with their sport. They wanted me to raze your castle to the ground and take your head. Do you know why I did not?”

  “Kindness?”

  William ignored the sarcasm. “Because your Bellerieve guards my coast well and I knew you would no more permit an invader to breach your walls than you did my knights.”

  “I’m very grateful.”

  “You are not.” William met his gaze. “You are as arrogant and without respect as your father.”

  A flicker of expression crossed Dumont’s face. “I have no father. I’m a bastard.” He bowed slightly. “Like your grace.”

  “Your mother claimed that you were Hardraada’s son.”

  “And Hardraada refused her claim. The King of Norway has issue enough for his taste and needs no bastard to lay claim to his land. Particularly the son born of the daughter of a Norman merchant.”

  “He must have some fondness for you. He trained you in warfare and took you on several voyages with him.”

  Gage’s eyes narrowed on William’s face. “I find it curious that you know such a great deal about me.”

  “Why? Surely you expected me to keep an eye on you. Being a bastard myself, I know the hunger illegitimacy brings for power, the desire to take what’s yours by any means possible. Since Hardraada would not give you the position you deserved, there was the chance you might decide to take mine.” He smiled. “I was grateful that instead you chose to gain power by amassing the wealth of Solomon.” He raised his brows. “But wealth is not enough for you, is it?”

  He shrugged. “Gold can buy almost anything.”

  “Almost,” William said softly. “But not what Hardraada could have given you. Not what I can give you. Gold cannot let you take your place as a noble. It cannot clean the common dirt from your shoes.”

  Gage looked down at his shoes. “I see no dirt. I’m shocked you would think I’d enter your august presence besmirched.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You must be more clear. As a merchant, I’m used to firm language when bar
gaining. I take it, this is a bargain?” He leaned back against the balustrade and said bluntly, “You want my archers and my soldiers when you invade England. You probably also will want a goodly sum to feed and clothe them during the invasion. Is that correct?”

  “That is quite correct.”

  “And what do you offer me in return?”

  “I don’t have to offer you anything,” William said testily. “My army could sweep over Bellerieve on the way to England and take what I need.”

  “And come out of the siege weaker than you can afford to be. What do you offer me?”

  “To knight you for services rendered.”

  “Not enough.”

  “A barony,” he said reluctantly. He had been hoping the damned merchant would be content without being lifted to the ranks of the elite of the land. “But not here. England. There will be land and honors aplenty when we defeat the Saxons.”

  “My choice of property?”

  “You ask a great deal.”

  “So do you. According to what I’ve heard, you’ve offered these Saxons’ lands to every mercenary and noble in Normandy. There may not be sufficient to go around, and I will not wait to be given my reward at your discretion.”

  “I’m not sure you would be entirely comfortable with knighthood,” William said coldly. “You clearly have been taught to whine and barter like your tradesman grandfather.”

  “You’re only half mistaken. My grandfather never whined but he was magnificent at the art of bartering.” He paused. “A quality necessary in a ruler as well as a merchant.”

  William grimaced as he realized his thrust had been turned aside. He was extremely sensitive about his own tanner grandfather and had hoped to spark a resentment that might enable him to get the upper hand over this rogue. He studied him, seeking another weakness.

  He saw none. The giant before him had the confidence of a royal combined with a brilliant mind that had allowed him to amass the fortune that had won him a unique place in Norman society. William had heard that while Dumont was with Hardraada’s raiding parties he was reputed to have been as ruthless in war as he later became in the trade. William might be able to break him but he would not bend. “Very well. Your choice of property.”

  Dumont straightened away from the balustrade. “I’ll consider it.” He bowed. “Good night, your grace.”

  “You’ll consider it?” William said, outraged. “I want an answer now.”

  “I’ll send you word in two days’ time.” Dumont moved toward the door. “My ‘tradesman’ grandfather also taught me never to accept a bargain without first examining it from all sides.”

  William smothered his anger. He would need every possible advantage when he launched his invasion, and Dumont’s fighting force was truly formidable. “I will wait two days and no more. Don’t think to play games with me.”

  “I don’t play games. I leave that to the lords and ladies of your illustrious court.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” William said. “If you decide to accept my offer, you must leave the Saracen here in France.”

  Gage’s expression did not change. “You are speaking of Malik Kalar?”

  “If that is his name. The Saracen who travels with you. I’m hoping to get the Pope’s approval on this invasion and I will not have him offended by a Saracen in my ranks.”

  “If I choose to join you, Malik will most certainly accompany me. Resign yourself to that fact.” He turned on his heel and left the chamber.

  Stubborn, arrogant whoreson. The rest of the world might wonder, but William had no doubt the man who had just departed was that Viking devil’s son. When he had summoned Dumont he had expected to be able to manipulate and control him, but now he was not sure who had been triumphant during this interview.

  “Matilda!”

  His wife opened the door of the antechamber, where William had stationed her with the door slightly ajar. He valued her judgment more than any of his nobles and often had her listen and watch when he had a meeting. “Well?”

  “An interesting man.” She came forward—tiny, sturdy, indomitable. “And every bit as comely as I’d heard from Lady Genevieve.” She smiled slyly. “She says he’s as vigorous in bed as a stallion and knows many exotic ways to please a lady. Now I can believe she spoke truly. He certainly appears to have a certain … power.”

  Comely? The man was big as a mountain, rough-featured, and had no claim to any comeliness that he could see. Matilda must be trying to spark his jealousy again. She knew it was an easy task and constantly stirred it as a way to keep his interest strong. She succeeded admirably; even after these many years of marriage their union was as ardent as the day they had wed. “Merde, I didn’t ask you to assess his virility but his character.”

  She shrugged. “Clever, hard, guarded … hungry.”

  “Hungry? You mean ambitious?”

  “Perhaps …” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to define that vague quality she had sensed in Dumont. Then she shrugged. “Hungry.”

  “Did he take the bait? He must know Hardraada also wants the English throne. Will he take his forces to Norway and offer them to his father?”

  “I think not.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I sensed a certain bitterness.… There is little affection there. However, he may decide to stay here in Normandy and gobble up the fiefs that are left behind instead of chancing defeat in England. As I said, I judge him to be a very clever man.”

  William shook his head. “If he stays, he remains a wealthy merchant who can only pull the strings behind the scenes. He has no liking for being scorned by my nobles. I’d wager he’ll pay my price to stand on equal ground with them.”

  “Then why did you ask my opinion, if you’d already made up your mind?” Matilda asked tartly. “I have better things to do with my time than listen at doors in the dead of night.”

  He moved at once to soothe her. No one could make life more unpleasant than Matilda in a fury. “You know I always value your opinion.” He changed the subject as he slipped his arms about her. “Except as regards the man’s capability as a stallion. Admit it, you merely said that to annoy me. The man has no attraction for you.”

  Matilda opened her lips to reply and then thought better of it as she caught the slight frown on his face. She reached up and gently stroked her husband’s cheek. “How very wise you are, my love. I was but teasing you a trifle. Of course I do not find this Gage Dumont in the least attractive.”

  “You’ve been a long time.” Malik didn’t turn around from his position at the open window as Gage strode into his chamber at Bellerieve. “Did he offer you the entire world, or just a part of it?”

  “Knighthood, a barony, the property of my choice in England.” Gage moved to stand beside him. “He seemed to think he was being very generous.”

  “But you do not.” Malik still didn’t look away from the comet. “Do you not trust him?”

  “He summons me to his presence near midnight so that his barons will not know he’s dealing with me. He threatens to take Bellerieve if I don’t give him what he wants. Should I trust him?”

  Malik did not answer.

  “And why should I take the chance? I have everything I could want or need here.” His gaze went around the chamber, taking in an exquisitely crafted golden elephant on the table, the magnificent tapestry portraying a lion hunt in the desert gracing the far wall. He had made sure every corner of the castle brimmed with finely carved furniture and ornaments of gold and silver and ivory. When he had furnished Bellerieve he had tried to emulate the luxury and beauty of the palaces he had visited in Byzantium rather than the sparse comforts of the manors of Normandy or his father’s hall in Norway.

  “Not everything,” Malik said. “Here you must fight for respect and to keep what is yours.”

  “England would probably be the same. Only I would have to fight the Saxons as well as my Norman brothers. Yes, I should stay here.”

  “But you will not.” Malik smiled. “You are a man who was
born to rule, and England is a step in that direction.”

  “A barony is not a kingdom.” He raised his brows. “Or do you believe I intend to overthrow William?”

  “It is a possibility.”

  Gage did not deny the thought had occurred to him. At times the slights and rejections he received goaded him to the point where he was tempted to ride roughshod straight to the throne. “I’m a rich man, but it would take the wealth of Solomon to gain support enough to oust William.”

  “True. Ah, but you will still go. You’ve grown too restless in the past year. You’re a man who must always have a new mountain to conquer and William’s knights are not enough to challenge you. If it was not England, it would be Byzantium.” Malik gave a mock shudder. “Or that cold land to the north again.”

  “You need not worry. It will not be Norway.” His lips suddenly twitched. “And it cannot be Byzantium if I’m to continue to be honored with your company. I believe the sentence was to be castration and then beheading?”

  “Do not remind me of that idiocy. As if castration were not enough indignity, they would take away my power of reasoning. They truly wished to destroy me.” He sighed resignedly. “But such is the fate of those granted the gifts of the Almighty. A man with my brilliance and hunger for knowledge always has enemies seeking to bring him down.”

  “I believe it was the hunger of your nether parts that brought you down. The beheading was just an afterthought. I’ve never understood why you chose the wife of the head of the Imperial Guard to seduce.”

  “She needed me,” he said simply. “Her brute of a husband was cruel to her.”

  Gage shook his head. Malik’s words did not surprise him. A woman need not be young or even comely to earn a place in the rascal’s bed; he loved them all. He appeared to enjoy every woman with equal passionate enthusiasm, and they certainly enjoyed Malik.

  “I wonder how she is.” Malik frowned. “Perhaps we should return to Karza and—”

  “No,” Gage said firmly. Though they had barely escaped from Byzantium with skin intact, Malik had insisted on taking the woman with them and escorting her safely back to her village. “She’s fine. I left enough gold to give her a chance to make a fine life for herself. She does not need you.”