Medieval Ever After Read Free

Seton and his family,” he replied. “There are three women in the group.”
    “I see them.”
    “Note the young one that is standing next to the balding man in the kilt?”
    Stephen’s eyes fixed on the small figure across the room. “Dark hair?”
    “Aye.”
    Stephen paused a moment, studying the distant figure. “Pretty girl,” he commented, turning back to Tate. “Who is she?”
    “The Lady Joselyn Seton. Your new wife.”
    Stephen stared at him. Tate stared back. They just stared at each other. Tate kept waiting for some kind of adamant response but Stephen did nothing more than stare. Stephen was, in fact, inordinately cool and always had been, but this lack of response was calm even for him. After several long moments of mutual staring, it was Stephen who finally broke; he smiled thinly and raked his hands though his hair again.
    “I do not want a wife.”
    “What you want is not at issue,” de Lara stated, though not unkindly. “Edward feels that the security of Berwick will be sealed when the new commander of the English forces marries the daughter of the defeated Scots leader. It is a tradition as old as battle itself, Stephen. To marry the daughter of your defeated enemy is to ensure peace. You know this.”
    Stephen was laughing, though not with humor. He was struggling to refuse, which in any case he knew he could not do. Frustration and disbelief were turning into anger, an emotion he was not particularly familiar with. The man was so cool at times that some had wondered if he had ice water in his veins instead of blood.
    “I was a soldier when I walked into this room,” he muttered. “Now I am a pawn.”
    Tate lifted an eyebrow. “Untrue. You have been elevated in rank and status and are a valuable asset to the king. I suggest you look at it that way.” He lowered his voice and stepped close to the big man. “Whatever fury you are feeling, be done with it now. You have a directive to fulfill before this night is out and Edward is in no mood for foolery. You are the last man I would expect emotion from, Pembury. Do your duty, as we all must.”
    The humorless grin on Stephen’s face faded as he gazed steadily at his liege. The cornflower blue eyes glittered, shifted, and finally cooled. After a moment, he nodded shortly.
    “Of course, my lord,” he was back to sounding calm and professional. “The king’s will shall be done in all things.”
    Tate nodded faintly, eyeing Stephen as if to suggest he was not unsympathetic. But that was where it ended; they were knights and they did as they were told. It was the end of a very long and bitter struggle and they were perhaps more edgy than they should have been out of sheer exhaustion. But they were professionals and knew what was expected of them. Together, they moved towards Edward.
    The king saw them coming, straightening as he focused on Stephen. Stephen saluted his monarch, a young king he had known since he had been a very young boy.
    “Sire,” he greeted evenly. “May I extend my deepest gratitude for the honors you have given me. I am humbled by your generosity.”
    Edward didn’t dare look at Tate, fearful that he would see that, somehow, Pembury had been forced into his smooth little speech. He genuinely liked Stephen, a man that was as strong and silent as the grave, yet possessed the most devious sense of humor he had ever seen. When he had been younger, he had been the butt of a few of Stephen’s pranks. The man could be merciless but it was all in good fun.
    Gazing into the familiar eyes of one of his most powerful knights, he sensed there was not an excess amount of good humor in the man at the moment. He suspected why but he would not back down or change his directive. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he was now the king and these knights he had grown up around were his vassals. They were men he had learned much from, considering them fathers in place of the one he never had. Stephen was one of those men. He secretly