With Dreams Only of You Read online

  Robbin lifted his eyebrows, off-guard by the answer. He was certain they were speaking of Frederica but Eryx was more clever with his response. Now, Robbin was scrambling for a reason to have come to Pelinom because Eryx was determined to make him look like a fool.

  “I… I am sure Lord d’Umfraville will gladly accept all the help he can get,” he finally said. “I have come to see if I can help you secure reinforcements. I have also brought some winter thistle for Lady Frederica, which I found along the way.”

  He extended them to Frederica, who was delighted with the prize. Eryx, however, ignored the flowers; he could see that Robbin was off-balance from the turn of the conversation and, like any good tactician, sought to use it to his advantage.

  “Excellent idea,” Eryx said, reclaiming his seat next to Frederica. “Mayhap you and Lord Broderick can determine who else to seek reinforcements from while I entertain Lady Frederica. My job here is finished but since you have just arrived, yours has only begun.”

  With that, he turned back to Frederica, who was inspecting her flowers, leaving Robbin embarrassed and fuming. Eryx had the edge on him, but not for long.

  “I would have been here sooner except the sentries at the gate questioned me for over an hour,” he said, loud enough to ensure that Eryx and Frederica could hear him. “They told me that Sir Eryx instructed them to detain me because he feared that I was a Scots assassin that had followed him from Corbridge. Truly, Eryx, a Scots assassin following you? And you ran like a defenseless whelp into the welcoming bosom of Pelinom? That is not like you to run. If you truly thought I was an assassin, then you should have turned and faced me.”

  Eryx digested the slander, remaining impassive in his disposition even though he wanted to turn around and slug Robbin right in the mouth. But he smiled politely at Frederica to beg her pardon while he addressed his nemesis.

  “My thoughts, at the time, were of reaching the safety of Pelinom and securing reinforcements for Corchester Castle,” he said. “Be fortunate that I did not stop and wait for you to catch up to me because I would have struck first and asked questions later. Be glad that it is my sense of duty and not my sense of suspicion that sees you alive and well, and not lying in the mud with your head separated from your shoulders. In any case, you would have been no match for me.”

  The battle lines were drawn. There were no more pleasantries to be said as the insults were slung in earnest. Eryx had both the height and strength advantage on Robbin, who was less muscular and not quite as tall, but his courage matched Eryx’s and then some. Robbin had been known to be rash, too rash, and that had created problems for him at times. But at this moment, he had no intention of backing down from Eryx. Now, their mutual animosity was known to all.

  Broderick, seeing that this was no longer a friendly competition, put himself between the two knights. “In these times of trouble one can often not distinguish friend from foe,” he said, catching Robbin’s attention enough to have the man sit down the table from Eryx and Frederica. “Eryx, I have indicated that I will send you with fifty men as reinforcements but is it possible you will need more?”

  Eryx, jaw ticking in a threatening manner, was still focused on Robbin as Broderick practically forced the man into a seat down the table. “Nay,” he said after a moment. “Robbin worries like an old woman. Fifty men should be sufficient. I cannot see the whole of Scotland coming down around us. These were disorganized raiders, not a formal force.”

  Broderick waved frantically to the nearest servant to have Robbin’s cup filled with wine. “Reivers,” he said, ensuring that a trencher full of food was also given to Robbin. “Border raiders. They can be annoying as well as deadly. What does Lord d’Umfraville think? Is he preparing for more trouble?”

  Eryx knew the man was trying to diffuse the situation and he eased up somewhat, collecting his cup of wine that Frederica ensured was topped for him. He smiled at her thoughtfulness, feeling his rage at Robbin naturally lessen as he beheld her in his gaze. When she was next to him, all was right in the world.

  “No more than usual,” Eryx said, his eyes on Frederica. “This is their usual tactic. They will continue this way through the winter.”

  As Eryx sipped of the tart, red wine, Frederica spoke. “Uncle Rick,” she addressed her uncle informally. “Eryx was telling me of the Roman castles along the Scots borders. It is truly a fascinating subject. He told me that he found the sword in the one near Corchester Castle. I wonder if there are other relics there, simply waiting to be discovered?”

  Broderick smiled at his niece. They were in the midst of two angry knights and talk of Scots raiders, but she changed the subject to something more pleasant in order to ease tempers and shift the focus. Frederica sometimes seemed flighty, even silly, but she was quite adept at handling a social situation and a conversation. She was also one of the more genuinely sweet women in the world and Broderick counted himself fortunate to have her in his world. She brightened it considerably.

  “It is possible there is much more left there by the Romans that has yet to be uncovered,” he said. “Mayhap if you remain here through the summer, we shall journey to this Roman castle and see for ourselves. Would you like that?”

  Frederica nodded eagerly. “I would, very much,” she said. “I also seem to recall hearing tale of the Romans and their fine houses when they lived in England those centuries ago. Some say there are remains of those fine houses throughout the country. Have you ever seen such a thing?”

  “Gladius.”

  The word floated in the air, disjointed, and everyone turned to see that it had come from Robbin. He was already halfway through his wine, not even having touched his food yet. When Robbin realized all eyes were upon him, he looked straight at Frederica.

  “Did Eryx tell you that in Roman times, such swords were called a Gladius?” he asked. “They were not carried by the common foot soldier. They were carried by noble Romans from great and noble families. That sword he has given you must have a great tale behind it.”

  Frederica cocked her head curiously. “How did you know he gave me the sword?” she asked. “How do you know anything about it?”

  Robbin took another long, deep drink of his wine, hoping it would dull the ache in his heart, aching with the fact that Eryx was sitting next to Frederica and he wasn’t.

  “Because I was there when he found it,” he said, smacking the wine off his lips. “If I had found a great and noble Roman sword, I would have given it to you also. He did what I would have done, only I did not have the opportunity. I was tending to a wounded woman while he was off bringing you gifts. All I was left to give you were half-frozen thistles.”

  It was another slanderous fling against Eryx and Frederica could sense bitterness in Robbin’s tone. She had known the knight as long as she had known Eryx but, unlike Eryx, she felt no attraction to him. He had come to visit Pelinom on occasion and she had always been polite to him, but the man did nothing for her. Perhaps he was now coming to realize that as she sat next to Eryx, her attention on him and him alone. In any case, she could sense great disappointment and even acrimony from Robbin.

  “Your thistles are lovely,” she said, looking to Eryx because looking at Robbin was making her uncomfortable. “And the sword is a beautiful and unique gift. If the Scots make it to Pelinom, mayhap I will even use it against them. I am sure it will not be the first time the sword was used against a Scots.”

  Eryx grinned. “Indeed, not,” he said. “But I hope you will not need to.”

  Frederica smiled at him, losing herself in those dusky blue eyes. He was such a glorious creature. “Where is my sword?” she asked. “Do not tell me that you left it with Uncle Rick. You will never get it back. You know how he loves all things ancient and mysterious.”

  Eryx laughed softly. “In fact, I did have to extract it from his grasp,” he said, teasing. “He cried and screamed. It was a terrible display.”

  Frederica laughed softly, looking to her uncle, who merely shrugge
d as if in utter agreement. “Then where is it?”

  Eryx pointed under the bench. “Underneath us,” he said, “wrapped in my cloak. My feet are upon it so no one can move it without my knowledge.”

  Frederica hung her head over the side of the bench, seeing the bundled parcel beneath them. “I did not notice it when I entered the hall.”

  Eryx watched her as she eyed the bundle. “I put it there when you left earlier to go upstairs to dress for dinner,” he said. “It has been with me the entire time.”

  “May I see it?”

  He didn’t hesitate. Reaching under the bench, he pulled forth the blade, wrapped in his oiled cloak. In the light of the hall, the ancient blade came forth into light and music and feasting as it had not experienced in centuries. The people were different and the customs were strange from what the sword had known, but still, the blade found a place of reverence. It was alive again.

  Those around the table, senior soldiers of the House of de Velt, were quite interested to see the weapon as Eryx laid it down before Frederica, but it was Frederica herself who was the most interested. Something about that oxidized piece of metal reached out to grab her, although she knew not why. All she knew was that it spoke to her in the silent whispers of an unsung past.

  “Look at it,” she breathed, awed, as she gingerly touched the ivory hilt. “I wish that it could talk or, at the very least, that someone could decipher the words on the metal. It seems to me that it might be important. Mayhap it will tell us why the sword was hidden.”

  Eryx started to reply but he was distracted, as they all were, as Lord Broderick’s wife and mother-in-law entered the hall. Other than female servants and Frederica, there were no other women in the midst of the warm and fragrant feast, so the introduction of two more women had the men on their best behavior. Broderick stood up to greet his wife.

  “Amelia, my love,” he said rather formally. “Please sit and be comfortable. We have guests this evening.”

  Amelia de Nerra de Velt was a sickly woman of fine breeding. She was kind, rather simple, but she had come into the House of de Velt with a massive dowry from her very wealthy family, so she was given all due respect. On her arm was her mother, Lady Willew de Nerra, a rather odd bird in a family that was known for its strong and reasonable members. But those particular traits seemed not to have been acquired by Willew.

  Willew was in her seventh decade, half-blind, but her mind was still sharp. At least, there were times when it was. When it wasn’t sharp, she claimed, among other things, to be able to communicate with the dead, a particular declaration that horrified most reasonable Christians, Broderick included. As the Lord of Pelinom helped his wife’s mother to sit, he prayed fervently that this was one those times when Willew would not proclaim to see phantoms in the great hall. The last thing he needed was for the old woman to run wild in the presence of guests.

  So it was best to drown out her madness with too much wine and food. Broderick sent servants running for trenchers for his wife and mother-in-law and made sure their cups were filled. The conversation at the table began to commence again, picking up where it had left off when Lady Amelia and Lady Willew entered the hall. With Broderick busy attending the women of his family, Eryx returned his attention to Frederica. He continued with his reply to her last statement.

  “Your uncle is quite convinced that the etchings on the blade are in Latin,” he told her. “While you were dressing for dinner earlier, Broderick and I had a long conversation over it. You were with us when we began the discussion. But after you left, we renewed the conversation of the inscription. He cleaned up the sword’s words as best he could but most of it is quite undecipherable due to the age of the metal. I am not entirely sure we will ever know what it says in its entirety.”

  Eryx’s softly uttered statement distracted Frederica from the subject of her uncle’s wife and mother-in-law. Much like Broderick, she was rather hoping that the old woman would remain silent this night. The old bird was very strange and Frederica didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Eryx. Therefore, when Eryx spoke, she looked at the blade, feeling some disappointment that they might never know the mysteries behind it. She felt certain there was a great story behind the sword and she had felt it all along. Reaching out, she gingerly touched the oxidized metal.

  The moment her flesh came into contact with the blade, strong emotion washed over her, like a wave from the sea. It crashed over her head and splashed down her entire body, giving her a jolt and causing her to jerk her hand away. A feeling of such joy and adoration filled her that it took her breath away. In fact, she actually sucked in her breath. Staring at the sword, she timidly touched it again only to experience the same feelings, only stronger this time. A warm, liquid sensation flowed from the metal into her hand, as water runs swiftly along a creek bed, and the sensation of contentment and adulation filled her full to brimming. Love, Frederica thought. I can most definitely feel love.

  But it was more than that. Like the caress of a mother to child, or the tender kiss of a husband to wife, Frederica could feel all these things of love beyond the mortal realm as her fingers lingered against the blade. It brought a smile to her lips, experiencing emotions she never knew to exist. The cold, marred metal of the ancient Gladius conveyed its secrets to her heart with the silent songs of a love gone by and Frederica should have been startled by the contact at the very least, but she found that it gave her great comfort and happiness. The Gladius was giving up its mystery to the one that loved it best.

  “My lady?” Eryx said quietly. “Freddie? Why are you smiling?”

  Eryx’s gentle voice broke through her haze and she pulled her hand away from the metal, looking at him with a somewhat surprised expression.

  “I… I am?” she asked, her focus returning to the sword. “I hadn’t realized it. I… I suppose I was simply thinking on the sword and the man who put it in the wall. Do you suppose he had meant to go back and retrieve it?”

  Eryx shrugged as he reached over and very carefully lifted the sword by the ivory hilt. “It is possible,” he said. “It is quite a magnificent piece. Mayhap he hid it during a raid so that the Scots would not get it and was killed before he could retrieve it.”

  That was a sad thought. “Oh,” Frederica said, her gaze on the writing on the blade as Eryx held it up into the light. “You said that most of the message was indecipherable. Does that mean my uncle was able to make out a word or two?”

  Eryx nodded as he looked at the blade also. He pointed to a few scratches that were meant to be a word.

  “Here,” he said. “Your uncle has translated this word – Theodosia. It is a woman’s name.”

  Frederica was awed. “Truly?” she gasped. “What a beautiful name. Do you think it was the man’s wife?”

  Eryx snorted. “His wife or lover,” he said. “Or mayhap it is simply the name of the sword. Some men name their weapons, you know. Arthur had Excalibur, Charlemagne had Joyeuse… mayhap the Roman warrior simply named his sword Theodosia.”

  Frederica was thrilled. “This is truly amazing,” she said happily. “The Theodosia sword belongs to me now and I adore it already. It is a truly wonderful gift, Eryx. I can never thank you enough.”

  As Eryx stole a kiss, hoping Broderick wasn’t looking, by planting his lips on the palm of her right hand. Robbin however, watched from down the table. Too much drink was making him tipsy and his tongue sprang loose.

  “Theodosia?” he repeated, loudly enough for Eryx and Frederica to hear him. “Do not lie to her, Eryx. If, in fact, the name is on the sword, it was more than likely the name of the man’s whore. Do not make it sound so romantic.”

  Jaw tense with displeasure, Eryx turned to Robbin. “It is a pity you do not understand things like romance and love,” he fired a volley of insults back over the table. “If you had ever had a woman in your arms that you had not paid to be there, then mayhap you would comprehend something other than bought affections.”

  Robbin frowned de
eply, gearing up for a nasty retort. Before he could speak, however, Lady Willew piped up.

  “That thing,” she hissed, pointing at the sword that Eryx was still holding up in his hand. “That thing, that thing! It comes with phantoms!”

  As everyone at the table looked to the old woman in both confusion and distaste, Broderick simply rolled his eyes. “Not now, Mother,” he said, trying to distract her. “Would you like more wine?”

  Willew pushed the man aside and stood up, a tiny woman in flowing, brown robes. “That thing,” she said again. “Give it to me!”

  Eryx wasn’t about to let the old woman handle the sword alone. Rising from his seat, he dutifully went to her and held the sword out so that she could see it. Whereas he and Frederica and everyone else had been very careful in the way they touched the sword, the old woman ran her hands all over it, feeling it, rubbing at it, stroking at it one point as one would a lover. It was all very odd, her reaction, as Eryx stood by and resisted the urge to pull it away from her. He didn’t like the fact that she was fondling his gift to Frederica. It was something just between the two of them, now with old-lady dirt all over it. But Willew was quite taken with the weapon and refused to take her hands off it.

  “Ah,” the old woman breathed now and again. “Ah! It belongs to the days of the ancients. Who found this?”

  “I did,” Eryx replied, trying to pull the sword away but the old woman would have no part of it. “I found it in a Roman castle.”

  Willew was focused intently on the sword. The edge was dull enough that she wasn’t hurting herself but the tip was still rather sharp and when she pushed her finger into it, it drew blood. She licked the blood away with a strangely long tongue.

  “Crimson,” she muttered. “I see crimson. There is death with that blade.”

  Broderick, who had so far remained silent as the old woman all but impaled herself on the old Gladius, sighed heavily.

  “Of course there is, Mother,” he said with strained patience. “It is a sword. Swords are meant to kill people.”