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The Flower And The Sword. Jacqueline Navin
Читать онлайн.Название The Flower And The Sword
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Автор произведения Jacqueline Navin
Издательство HarperCollins
She must be mad, she told herself. If her father saw her he would be furious. Worse, if Rogan spied her scampering about like an urchin, she knew she would never survive the humiliation.
But she had to see him again.
She had not been able to stop thinking of him all last night. She had been sorely disappointed this morn when she had found her father had taken him off so early. When she learned he was to fight one of her father’s men, she could not have stayed away for all the riches of the Holy See.
As Rogan walked onto the field, stripped to the waist as he was, Lily dove deeper under cover. Her heart thundered in her chest as panic arose. He was half-naked!
Oh, she should run back while she still had the chance, steal into the solar where she was supposed to be, quietly sewing and gossiping with the other women. Aye, most certainly she had been foolish to give in to her impulses. She stood, firmly resolved.
But somehow, instead of going back to the keep, she crept closer, slipping behind a cart nearer to the perimeter of the field.
From here she could view everything much better. She was close enough to see the movement of muscle as Rogan swung the broadsword over his head to limber up. Fascinated, she noted the slight beading of perspiration glisten on bare flesh. She felt faint, closing her eyes to steady herself.
He was magnificent, more physically glorious than any hero of a bard’s tale. His arms were thick with sinewed definition, sculpted as perfectly as the god Hermes in the garden, and his chest was broad with a light furring of auburn to match his wild mane of hair. It spread across his skin, tapering to a trail over the flat stomach. He turned, his back flexing with each of his powerful movements. Bracing himself, legs apart, he nodded to his opponent that he was ready.
Lily almost gave away her hiding place when she saw who it was her father had chosen to face Rogan. Latvar the Dane—a huge, ugly monster of a man. He was by far her father’s most accomplished warrior, held in awe among the men for both his skill and merciless strength. As he approached, swinging his spiked mace, Rogan only waited with deadly calm.
They circled each other. Rogan’s movements were smooth, like some wild animal of prey stalking with deliberate care. Finally, Latvar swung, the whooshing sound of the mace slicing through the still air. Rogan ducked, avoiding the mace easily. Latvar swung again, but his blow was once more evaded.
Latvar’s war cry resounded and he lunged. Rogan maneuvered himself away from the brutal onslaught without a scratch. They circled again, wary, taking measure.
In a rage, Latvar hurled the mace aside and drew his own sword. To this invitation, Rogan raised his own weapon, swinging it over his head in an arc and bringing it down against the Dane’s. The deafening sound of steel against steel sounded out, making Lily start.
Latvar was larger, but Rogan was unbelievably quick. The Dane could not bring the sword back up fast enough to see each of Rogan’s swings. Lily saw Rogan unleash a barrage of blows that left his opponent backwheeling, panting and exhausted. When Latvar dropped to one knee, Rogan placed a booted foot on his chest, laying his blade gently against the thick neck.
Lily waited in tense anticipation as the two remained in perfect stillness before Latvar nodded, admitting defeat. Lily craned her neck to see her father’s reaction. Enguerrand’s face was red, his lips tight, but he only stared stonily at the Dane. Behind him, Andrew bounced on his heels, gloating.
What would her father do now? Lily wondered. Rogan inclined his head to Latvar and offered him a hand. Poor Latvar looked guiltily at his master. Enguerrand said something to the men and Andrew laughed and gave her father a good-natured slam on the back. He shrugged and turned away, stalking off toward the stables with Andrew sauntering behind.
The crowd that had gathered broke up. Rogan came over to the water barrel, which was perilously close to where Lily lay hidden. She shrank back, angry with herself for not stealing away. She should have left while she had the chance! She was very still, very quiet. Her pulse thumped wildly in her throat.
Taking up the dipper, he poured water over his shoulders and back. He tilted his head up, splashing his face and running wet hands through his hair.
“Well, are you not going to come out and congratulate me?” he asked casually, “or are you still angry with me for last night?”
Closing her eyes, Lily wished fervently that her ears had deceived her, that Rogan had not discovered her in this humiliating position. After a minute, she rose and stood before him like a penitent child.
“Well?” he prodded. “Are you still angry?”
“N-no,” she stammered.
“I should not have been so boorish. It was rude of me to ask such an unseemly question. However, I could not resist, and sometimes when men and women are alone, strange things are said. Even stranger done. I suppose that is why fathers are so determined to keep their daughters locked away.” His eyes held a curious blend of sincerity and laughter. “Your father should take better care to keep you locked away, you know. Your freedoms, meager though they are, do tempt me.”
“Oh,” Lily said, surprised by this contrite statement. She had been afraid he would tease her.
“So, do you forgive me?”
“I do,” she agreed. Digging the toe of her slipper in the dirt, she added, “I suppose I overreacted a bit. But you took me by surprise.”
“What a shame, and when I was enjoying our conversation so much. I was sorry when you left.”
She eyed him speculatively. “Sometimes I think you mock me.”
“What?” he said, brows shooting up in surprise. “I, mock you? Why Lily, it is you who mock me to accuse me of being insincere. I speak my mind, though it might seem dense to you. But, I am only a soldier. I can only make the excuse that I am crude and unused to the company of ladies such as yourself.”
“Oh, you are far from crude. If you never thought yourself charming, then you do not know yourself as well as you think. And I believe you are adequately acquainted with the company of ladies.”
“But none such as yourself,” he qualified. “And I do admit I tease you. I confess I rather enjoy your reaction. There is so much pretense and posturing between men and women, and I have little tolerance for it. I like the way you are so honest in your responses.”
Feeling as though her breath had been stolen away by the unexpected compliment, Lily blushed. “I suppose I am to blame as well for our misunderstanding.” She shot him a mischievous look from beneath her lashes. “I have been warned to beware of gardens in the evening and serpent-tongued rogues.”
“So you think me a rogue, do you?” He laughed, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he ever heard.
The glow from last night was stealing over her again. She felt her earlier caution desert her. Tilting her head to one side, she gave him an assessing look.
“Once,” she said slowly, “when I was a child, some traveling troubadours and jugglers came to the castle. My mother was alive then, and she adored such entertainments. We had a celebration, a fair with exotic acts and sights. One of the attractions was a man from the East who wore no shirt and had a great linen wrapped around his head with a gigantic ruby in it. Catherine insisted it was merely glass, but I always liked to think that it was real. His skin was darker than the field workers. He would play his flute a certain way to make a snake rise up out of the basket he had with him. The snake was so enraptured by the song that it was rendered harmless. It did his bidding, and he played his flute to command the snake to rise and fall.”
Rogan