Page 102 of Come the Morning

“Do others know?” Igraina asked.

“At this time? Well, Sir Percy, of course. He came with the news. And Angus because he knows everything, and—Ewan, because he will defend here.”

“Perhaps Mellyora isn’t aware—”

“Well, there’s nothing to be done.”

That was enough. Mellyora pushed open the door and entered. She stared at Igraina. “Aware of what?”

Igraina paled, and didn’t reply. Mellyora stared at Jillian. “By God, what is this? Jillian, I’ll never forgive you! Obviously, something is going on, and I don’t intend to be a blind idiot, and if you make it so—”

“Waryk has to leave,” Jillian said.

“Aye, I can see that,” she said sharply. “The king has summoned him?”

Neither woman replied.

“All right, both of you, what is going on here?”

Jillian cleared her throat. “David intends to invade England.”

“That’s not a surprise.”

“He has sent Sir Percy to Waryk because they are both good friends with the English border lord, Peter of Tyne. They are to ride in force to visit, and suggest he accept a new overlord in King David of Scotland.”

Mellyora held very still. In the few moments that she stared at the women, she wondered how she would have felt if this had come about earlier. Might she have been pleased that he was going to leave, and she would have her isle alone?

She felt a tightening in her stomach. No. She had been jealous from the moment she had known about Eleanora of Tyne, even when she had totally despised Waryk. She was foolish; she was living in a heedless, merciless world, and she had been given by the king to a man in love with his mistress. She had not simply accepted him at the king’s command, but she had allowed herself to be seduced. To smile, to laugh, to bask in his warmth. To savor the feel of his arms through the darkness and the night …

And now he was going to his mistress.

She spun around. Jillian chased after her. “Mellyora, he has to go. It doesn’t mean anything. After all, he thought you were in love with Ewan, he had to be afraid that—”

“I was in love with Ewan,” Mellyora said curtly. “But he came here with me, and threatened Ewan’s life. Can I do the same?”

“Mellyora, please—”

“Leave me be!” Mellyora told her, shaking off Jillian’s gentle touch and hurrying down the corridor. She was feeling reckless, and determined.

She hurried to the stables. She was about to ask that her silver palfrey be saddled, then determined that she’d rather take one of the large warhorses. Dabney, a huge bay, had been bred from a massive draft animal and a fleet Arabian mare, a gift to her father from a caliph he had chosen not to plunder in his a-Viking days in the Mediterranean. Dabney had been one of her father’s favorite horses, and she had made a gift of him to Ewan after her father’s death. Ewan, however, was mounted on Pict today, his own sturdy favorite, and so Dabney remained for the taking. She quickly ordered him saddled. Mounted, Mellyora waved to the guard and rode out to the field. She reined in as she neared the men. They were now lined up across the hilltop. Waryk, comfortably seated atop Mercury, was speaking.

“I’ve seen many an unwary man, fully trained, fall to the fury of a farmer’s hoe. You must have eyes everywhere, and remember that all armor has weaknesses. For yourself, you must recognize those weaknesses, and protect yourself against them. When fighting, you must find those weaknesses in your enemies’ defenses, and be ready to use them, to use any edge against your foes. You’ve done exceptionally well against an enemy on a pole; live men do not allow themselves to be attacked quite so easily. Don’t underestimate your enemy, nor should you overestimate. More battles have been lost by fear than through lack of arms or armor. Take care against a greater strength; there is strategy in retreat as well as in a hopeless confrontation.”

She had come from behind. He had concentrated on the men before him, and it was only as Ewan and Angus saluted her that Waryk turned to see her coming. He did not seemed pleased to find her on his training field.

He could not be, she determined, any less pleased than she was.

“Take my lady wife, good fellows. A Viking’s daughter, she is well trained, as I’m sure many of you know. It’s her belief that she can battle warriors with her sword.”

“Ah, well, sir, that is because she can battle warriors with a sword. I have defended myself in many a sorry situation, and will surely do so again.”

“My lady,” Ewan called to her, “we are trained to defend you, you must remember!”

Her resentment grew. It seemed that even Ewan had turned against her.

“Ah, well, Ewan, I do appreciate such loyal nobility from you all, but I’m afraid I’ve discovered that I cannot always count on a warrior being present when danger threatens.” She stared straight at Waryk.

“Ah, but my dear wife, were you to remain safely within fortress walls, where you are protected, such danger could not threaten,” he said pointedly.