Traitor

About the Author

From the Publisher

Wildly wicked. Sensual and steamy. Medieval lovers in a dangerous time. Dark Redeemer Medieval Romance is a series of sinfully erotic adventure tales set in the High Middle Ages. Packed with action, swords, horses, skullduggery and romance, Traitor contains racy, intimate love scenes not for the faint of heart. Sensitive readers are strongly cautioned.

Titles in this Series

Wanton

Wastrel

Soldier

Christmas Rose

TRAITOR

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors’ arms,

Quite vanquish’d him: then burst his mighty heart.

—Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Chapter I

THE SUN SHONE flat and sharp as a blade on her arm. Ellie tilted her face to the sky and squinted into the forest canopy. The scene passed slowly before her, following the rhythmic gait of the horses. Sunlight twinkled and winked through the green leaves like serene, cool sails floating high above the carriage. Truly, summer was the most precious jewel of the English seasons. And this day in early July was particularly fine.

We are fortunate in the weather for travelling, are we not? I could not be more content in the day.

Griffith of Nottingham had been tasked with delivering Lady Elspeth of Dorsetshire to Canterbury Castle in Kent. It was a curious experience riding alone in a carriage with a man so far below her station. Yet his manner toward her this entire journey would give one the impression he was her superior.

He rarely spoke. It was remarkable how silent he was. As shut up as tomb and just as dry and lifeless. Captain Griffith was either taking his duty to protect her far too seriously, or else he was dull-witted. He ought to have the civility to make some conversation at least. The journey thus far had been a long one without any measure of discourse.

Captain, how much longer do you think it will be before we arrive at Canterbury?

Long before the bell is rung for Vespers, my lady. In this season, the sun does not touch the horizon before journey’s end.

Ah, that is well then. She smiled, hoping to draw him into further conversation before she was deposited at Canterbury and her last connection with home was severed. I am sorry to have taken you from your regiment for so little, Captain. My father could not be spared and he would not trust any but you to give me escort. I believe he fancies danger around every corner.

I am happy to be of service, my lady.

So you claim but I do not think you are sincere. In truth, you do not look or sound happy. You look rather fierce.

Griffith dipped his head graciously. My apologies. My mind is elsewhere. Your father, the Earl has a second purpose for my being here. We have a traitor in our ranks and I have been charged with discovering who.

Oh, I see. Well, that is a fool’s errand, I am afraid, she sighed, gazing happily at the summer day. There will be a reasonable explanation for whatever intrigue Papa thinks he has uncovered. There always is. This is only the third time my father has suspected a traitor in his midst and he was wrong on both counts previous to this one. If Papa would take the time to make some inquiries before sending out the Captain of the Guard, he would be a better man for it.

You sound certain he is wrong, my lady.

Ellie laughed at the expression on the captain’s face. Do not take me for your conspirator. War bores me witless. Though I think I should enjoy being a spy if I had the aptitude for it.

She returned her attention to the green forest, though there was not much to see surrounded by so very many trees. The cool air was relief though. The carriage had become a cloistered tomb of heat with nary a breeze wafting through its curtained sides. It was also quite dusty from the high road. She was glad when Captain Griffith ordered the driver to leave that route and take the forest path when the heat of the day was well upon them. Ellie dabbed her neck and forehead with a damp square of linen.

What is this wood called?

This is Weald Forest, my lady.

Her escort appeared untroubled by the heat though he was clad in a gambeson over which he wore a brigandine. Griffith sat ramrod straight on the bench opposite her with his helmet tucked under his arm. The helmet was unusual; shaped like a pot and made of iron, fixed with a nose guard that had been gouged by a blade in some long ago battle. The brigandine was constructed of rivets, leather and thick wool and buckled like plate across his chest. No maille at least or armor; Ellie could not have borne the constant clanging of steel plate every time they passed over a bump. Still, Griffith appeared woefully ill-protected for a guardsman.

You have left your armor at home, Captain Griffith?

I am an archer, my lady. Helmet and brigandine are all the protection I need. Armor is too weighty and slow for an archer.

How exciting. Where is your bow? I should like to see it.

It is under the carriage, my lady, secured and out of sight.

Is that wise? If we were attacked, how would you retrieve it?

If we were attacked I should duck beneath the carriage and retrieve it, my lady.

I see. And would you launch a defense from under the carriage?

Aye. The carriage would provide cover from which to launch a defense.

And then he lapsed into silence again.

Ellie sighed. If she meant to have any conversation at all, she would have to tease it out of him one question at a time and she did not have the energy for such toil. She was a lazy thing. It was true. Her mother claimed because she had not married at thirteen as her parents intended, Ellie had grown lazy. Surely, it was not her fault that every one of her betrothed died before she got to the altar. A warring nation was the cause of her unmarried state and laziness was the natural outcome. Perhaps her mother was right. It was well she was marrying at long last if this was to be her attitude going forward in life.

The truth be told, she was no longer impressed by young gentlemen. Their words and attentions had begun to bore her of late. The silent Captain Griffith was proving to be a novelty in that he had not tired her with talk, though she would prefer him better if he were somewhat less taciturn.

She examined him covertly. He was fine looking for a homme d’armes, this Griffith of Nottingham. Ellie had a vague memory of his arrival to her father’s guard two years ago. He attracted notice because he was uncommonly handsome for a soldier. Unfortunately, an appealing face was all he had to his credit back then. Griffith had no rank, family, position or lands. He was one of those vagrant soldiers of fortune her father was so fond of welcoming into his company. However, the man proved himself worthy, rising rapidly in rank to Captain of the Guard.

His profile was charming, Ellie thought. The line of his jaw and nose hinted at a Roman heritage. She could not make out the colour of his eyes from this angle, but his hair was thick and nut brown in colour and sheen. He wore it as all the men of her father’s guard did, bluntly cut above the ears and at the back. It curled loosely over his broad forehead. He would need to cut it soon.

What is your age, Captain Griffith?

Six and twenty, my lady.

A terse answer but at least he looked at her this time when he spoke. His eyes were brown with copper flecks that caught the light. Thick black brows and an unnerving stare. His mouth was rather sensual, Ellie thought. She had no impression of the rest of him. He was wearing hose of rough wool, leather boots almost to his knees and a sword belted at his side. The captain was undoubtedly strong as all the men in her father’s regiment were.

Do not be offended, but I thought you were much older. You are so very serious all of the time. We are near in age, she said cheerfully. I am eighteen.

He nodded.

"Do you enjoy being a soldier?’

The captain fixed her with a look. Yes, my lady.

That is too bad, she said regretfully. War robs one of so many pleasures.

When war broke out between the English barons and King John, Ellie lost interest in the soldiers in her father’s regiment. It had been an entertaining pastime watching them train and prance about in full armor, pennant crests waving in the air but when they started into battle, soldiering lost its appeal when it meant the young men would die.

Though peace was not much better, she mused aloud. Laying down arms is apparently impossible without giving one’s only daughter in marriage. Treaties cannot be negotiated without wedding two strangers who have gained nothing in the conflict and were in no wise involved.

It is the way of the world. Captain Griffith was watching the forest and appeared not to be listening.

That is what my mother said. A negotiated marriage is the price of peace. It seems to me that peace should be the price of peace. As it is so difficult to maintain, doing so should be the price men are willing to pay. Ellie turned her attention to the green sun-dappled scene outside the carriage. But I am ignorant of the reasons for war. I am sure they are very sound or men would not rush so often into death.

Thank goodness this conflict had ended