Page 55 of The Champion

“I can go get mine. It’ll only-“

”Nay, Rowena. We all have to face our pasts at some point. If I am forced to conjure up her ghost, then let us do it all the way.”

She frowned, not sure of what he meant.

He took a deep breath as he opened the case to display one of the finest crafted lutes she had ever beheld. “‘Tis beautiful.”

Stryder nodded. “My father’s gift to her when she told him she was pregnant with me. He had sent to Paris for it.”

To her amazement, Stryder handed it to her.

Rowena held it with respect. There was no single scratch or mar on its surface.

“Why do you keep it with you?”

“It and her ring are all I have of her. She might not have been a good wife, but she was a wonderful mother. A beautiful lady, who believed in the love poetry of Eleanor’s court that says true love can never be found inside of marriage.”

His gaze met hers and the coldness there sent a shiver over her.

“I don’t believe that. I think love is oft found where we least expect it. My father’s greatest wish was for me to only marry the man I loved. He oft said that no marriage should ever be made for any other reason. Indeed, Andre the Chaplain, who sometimes travels with Eleanor says the same. He believes that love should only be within the confines of marriage.”

“Do your songs say as much?”

“Aye. I write of people who come together against great odds so that they can live their lives out in bliss.”

“Then sing to me, Rowena. Let me hear a song of a happy couple who live within the confines of their vows. I want nothing of deceit or treachery.”

Stryder spoke from his heart, and it touched hers in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible.

Nodding, she took his lute to a chair by his desk and sat down to tune it.

Stryder listened to her as she brought his mother’s lute back to life. He would have thought by now the strings would have been rotted, but it was a testament to Rowena’s skill and gentle touch that they didn’t break.

Instead, she made a gentle tune with it. And when she sang, her voice held all the music of heaven. Druce had been right. Surely, there was no divine choir that could surpass her skill.

And she did sing to him of a falconer and a dairy maid who were star-crossed, and yet, they found love and married.

When she finished, they sat in silence.

“A falconer,” he said quietly. “So, you don’t believe nobility can marry for love?”

“I do. I just never have witnessed it.”

Stryder’s thoughts turned to his friend, Simon of Ravenswood, and Simon’s wife, Kenna. “I have. ‘Tis a beautiful thing to see two people come together when they would rather die than live apart.”

“I would give all I have to feel such.”

Stryder nodded and found it strange that they were discussing this when he had never spoken aloud of such things. “And what sort of man would you fall in love with, Rowena?”

She strummed an idle chord as she thought it over. “One of gentle touch. Honorable, of course. And he must make me laugh.”

“You have no physical requirements?”

“Nay, not really. ‘Tis what a man is inside that matters to me.” She looked at him. “And what of you? What kind of woman could win the heart of the Earl of Blackmoor?”

“None,” he said, his voice thick. “My heart is dead and completely incapable of beating for a woman.”

“Completely?”