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