Gonnes of navarre, p.4
Gonnes Of Navarre, page 4
So intertwined they stumbled across the floor to the table. The front of her thighs bumped hard against it, and she felt the length of him press against her bottom. His hands left her neck and, to her momentary disappointment, slipped out from between her legs. Instead, his thumbs hooked through the waist of her hose and braies, tugging them down with no delicacy until they fell to her knees and bared her backside to him. He pressed the length of his belly against her back and filled his hands with her breasts for a moment as he craned his neck around her for another kiss that sucked the breath from her lungs. Then he bent her forcefully over the table, scattering everything atop it across the floor. Elsabeth squealed when he entered her again, the movement nearly lifting her from her feet.
The table groaned in protest under their weight. Its feet squeaked as it skidded along the floor with every sturdy thrust of his hips. All the strength drained from her legs, and without the table to support her she would have sunk to the floor. Elsabeth gripped the edge and squeezed her eyes tight. Ecstatic moans escaped the back of her throat.
She threw back her head, and the more unrestrained her cries of pleasure, the more feverish and intense Cuncz’s efforts grew. His hands wandered from the front of her thighs to her hips, and then to her waist. He seized hold of her shirt, and whipped it off over her head to expose her body to the winter chill permeating the room. He filled his hands with her breasts. The cool air was forgotten beneath the heat of him pressed against her, and the intense warmth radiating from within her with every stroke. He kissed her neck again; long, sucking nibbles from the corner of her jaw down to the top of her shoulder and back again.
Cuncz pushed her back down onto the table with one hand between her shoulder blades. The soft whisper of fabric joined the steady bumping and squeaking cadence of the table slowly being driven across the room as his shirt joined hers on the floor. He laid his hands atop the backs of hers, twining his fingers through them. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, licked and nipped at her neck, and kissed along her shoulder.
Elsabeth cried out as her whole body spasmed in ecstasy.
Cuncz uttered a ragged moan and shuddered in response.
The table groaned.
A sharp crack filled the room.
And suddenly she and Cuncz were tumbling face-first to the floor with a deafening crash as the legs of the table gave out beneath them.
But for a time, at least, all her troubles vanished from her thoughts.
4
A cold light speared across the room, and by some wicked contrivance of the Dark One struck Elsabeth square in the eye.
She moaned pitiably and tossed one arm across her face in a vain effort to shield herself from that infernal beam. A fog of sleep and drink clung tenaciously to her mind, the former evaporating under the luminous assault, the latter expanding rapidly within her skull until she thought it might burst under the pressure. Elsabeth lurched upright, allowing the blanket pulled up round her shoulders to fall across her lap, and she wrapped her arms around herself reflexively when the morning chill smote her naked breast. That shocked her into alertness, and with it the pressure building in her skull threatened to tear it apart bone by bone. She mopped her eyes with one hand.
Elsabeth shifted to stand, but the moment she moved a hand shot out from behind her and caught her round the wrist. Cuncz raised himself up on his other elbow, and looked up at her with that infuriating, self-satisfied smirk.
“Good morning, Tetty,” he said.
She screwed up her lip and glowered down on him with a look of feigned annoyance. “Oh dear God, and here I thought last night was merely some awful nightmare in my drunken stupor,” she said flatly.
Cuncz chuckled softly and dragged her back down onto the bed. “I am not one to take advantage of a woman in such a distressed state—”
“Of course not.”
“—but you did kiss me first. I merely came up for a pleasant chat.”
“Does anyone really believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”
He leaned over her and kissed her. Elsabeth’s breath caught in her throat at the electric jolt coursing from her lips and down to more intimate places, and she curled her toes into the mattress beneath her. When he parted from her again it was with a lingering, sucking nibble on her upper lip, and Elsabeth gasped in a desperate breath.
Cuncz brushed the hair back from her cheek. “I would ask much the same of you, but you and I are both much too accomplished with our tongues to be so easily caught.”
“Well, I’ll grant you that your tongue certainly is talented, though more so on a few particulars of my anatomy than at spinning lies. Don’t let this go to either head, love, but I was desperately in need of last night. The past few months have been somewhat wanting.”
One of his hands slipped down the length of her torso, and glided across skin stretched tautly over the sheet of muscle at her belly on its way down to her hip. “Missed me, did you?”
“After a fashion,” she said.
“And yet you were in such a hurry to leave bed this morning.”
“The sun was in my eye. Be a dear and have Conrat go up and blot it out.”
Cuncz reclined onto the pillow once more, and Elsabeth nestled down into the crook of his arm. “Conrat, I am afraid, remained behind in Leyen to manage things while I am away and keep up appearances. Quite the worthy man; no one will ever know I am gone.”
Elsabeth grunted. “Still playing your little intrigues I see.”
“My dear, the games never end. And where, may I ask, is the good Brother? I noticed his horse was not in the stable last night.”
“If you must know, Brother Hieronymus winters at some stronghold or other of his Order. Every year that I have known him; and good for me, because once the first snow falls he shan’t stop complaining about the cold until I leave him there.
“I meet him again come the spring thaw, but I am really of no mind to discuss him further. And that bloody light is still in my eye.”
With a suddenness that recalled his agility during their scuffle the night before, Cuncz had her under him again, blocking out that intrusive piercing ray with his own body.
“Better?” he said.
“I don’t know that the view has improved, but at least the light is not trying to bore a hole through my eye sockets.”
Cuncz leaned down and kissed her again, and Elsabeth moaned softly. God! Why does he have to be so bloody good at this! One hand explored her body from her breast to her thigh, while he supported himself with the other. With much greater reluctance than she wanted to admit, she put a hand against his chest and pushed him away. Again he drew out the kiss for as long as he could, before releasing her upper lip with a last, parting nibble.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, holding him at bay with one hand, and trying very hard not to think about how nicely his skin stretched across the muscle beneath. His hand came to rest on back of her hip, and pulled her lower extremity close against him. It took a great deal of effort not to think about that other bit of his anatomy now poking her in the base of the thigh.
“Why, enjoying all the pleasures your company offers.”
Elsabeth fixed him with an impatient glare.
“What are you really doing here?”
Cuncz heaved a sigh and rolled off her again. He flopped onto his back between her and the shaft of light burning through the window.
“I had hoped we might have a brief time to enjoy one another this morning before we got to business.”
“Tch. I knew it. You want something from me.”
“I already had something from you. Quite a few times last night, in fact. I must remember to pay the innkeeper for the table ere I depart.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it!” she snapped, and blushed fiercely as memory of the table collapsing under the raucousness of their tryst returned to mind.
“All right, I have a spot of work for you.”
Elsabeth threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. “Oh! I bloody knew it.”
Cuncz lifted himself up on one elbow, and his eye shamelessly wandered her naked figure from head to toe. “And this is why I hoped to broach the matter in due time.”
Elsabeth snatched up her braies from the floor and slipped into them again. “What difference does it make if you broach the matter now or in due time? It does not change the fact you are just here because of some new plot you seek to draw me into.”
“I’ll not lie about your usefulness to me in this matter, but ’twas not the only reason I am here.”
She stepped into her hose and glowered at him. “So you intended to fuck me into the job, then.” She made it a statement of fact.
Cuncz merely shrugged offhandedly. “Rather I considered that a not-inconsiderable bonus.”
“For me or for you?”
“Why not both?”
Elsabeth popped her head through the neck of her blouse and slipped her arms back through the sleeves. She did not bother with the ribbons that pulled them snug against her upper arms, but stuffed the tail into the top of her hose and knotted the flap closed.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I really don’t know what infuriates me more: That you actually think I would fall for it, or this bloody act like nothing ever bothers you when it turns out wrong.”
Cuncz casually fluffed a pillow and stuffed it behind his head. “The job pays a thousand pfunde,” he said, and Elsabeth froze halfway through fastening her doublet.
“Say again?”
“One thousand pfunde. That is the import I place upon this task. And not just for myself, but for His Imperial Majesty.”
Elsabeth stared at him, and gawked as if he had sprouted an extra head. Her half-fastened doublet went forgotten. “One thousand pfunde. From the Emperor himself?”
“His very own seal is stamped upon the order and upon the papers of account. But I do have other agents, if you have no need for such coin.”
She flushed, and a part of her mind screamed warnings at the strange tone of voice with which he spoke that last part. “’Tis a hefty sum. And no small honor, I should think.”
“I could not, of course, bring your name directly to His attention should you carry out this service for Him, such is the secrecy.”
“And what is this service?”
“In due time, as I said,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “First, I think we should go down to breakfast.”
Elsabeth and Cuncz arrived in the common room to find it suspiciously empty.
The fire crackled on the hearth and the aroma of fresh bread mingled with the fragrant perfume of burning wood, but though it was well into the morning, every table but one was empty. That was occupied by Cuncz’s three favorite guardsmen — Clement, Jacobus, and Thaddeus — who took their breakfast with large tankards of ale. Wernhart looked up from refilling Thaddeus’ tankard when she entered, but if he thought anything of what transpired between her and Cuncz after she declined his company the night before, he wisely held his tongue.
Instead, he finished his task and bowed deeply to Cuncz.
“Your men are being fed, Herr von Leyen,” he said, “and I’ll have your breakfast along presently.”
“Thank you,” Cuncz said. “I have heard good things about your kitchens and drink, so I most look forward to it.”
Wernhart bowed deeply again, then inclined his head to Elsabeth in turn. “Good morning, Elsie. How are you feeling?”
“Better, I suppose,” she said, and nursed her temples. “Though I think I could do with a platter of rollmops, if you have any.”
He offered her an understanding smile. “I’ll see what I can do for you. I always have something on hand for just such a malady.”
“Thank you, love.”
Cuncz directed her to a table in the corner and pulled out a chair for her so she might sit with her back to the wall. She eyed him sharply at that display, but Cuncz merely weathered it with an affectation of innocence she did not for a moment believe.
Elsabeth and Cuncz broke their fast in awkward silence, with Wernhart hovering round them in case he was needed. Cuncz did not say a word more about what had brought him to Pruck while he ate, and before long Elsabeth’s impatience began to get the better of her. She did not press him, however, and restrained herself to a bit of fidgeting and nervously popping rollmops into her mouth. The dainties were rolled round gherkins pickled with dill, and went a long way towards easing her belly in the aftermath of the last night’s drinking. Her head still pounded something fierce, however, and would not be so easily nursed.
Finally, Cuncz finished, and drained his tankard in one final draught, thumping it down harder and louder than Elsabeth’s throbbing temples liked.
“My compliments to you on your table,” he said, and Wernhart’s face brightened at the praise. “I may have to see about stealing you away for my own kitchens.”
Elsabeth spit him with a glare. “Don’t even think it.”
Cuncz shrugged innocently. “I merely suggest a man of his talents ought to be plying his trade in far loftier places! I wager even his Excellency the Prince-Bishop would not boast of so fine a table.”
Wernhart flushed, and bowed. “’Tis welcome to hear such words, Herr von Leyen, seldom as I hear them from the regulars. Though doubtless they are no less appreciative, else I would not be able to call them such. Nonetheless, my own small kitchen is all I desire.”
“Suit yourself, though I may have a man sent to learn what secrets you would be willing to part with.”
Elsabeth glowered at him from across the table. “In the meantime, you and I have more pressing business to discuss than the culinary art of the worthy Wernhart.”
“Indeed we have.” Cuncz rose and directed her towards the door with exaggerated flourish. “My dear?”
She spared Wernhart a distressed look, but if any rescue was at hand, it would not be coming from that direction. So she stomped out, with Cuncz and his guards behind her.
The morning was already late, and the sun well above the eastern horizon, when she set foot into the streets of Pruck. Snow clung in deep drifts beside the collection of half-timbered houses and shops, and piled high on their peaked roofs. Elsabeth shielded herself against the sunlight dazzling her eyes on the snow blanketing the fields and road, and her skull threatened to split open in protest. The monastery frowned down behind its walls from a hilltop a mile to the north, and smote her heart with a fresh anguish that had not yet been drunk away the night before when her eye strayed unwillingly in that direction. She bowed her head and tightened her jacket against the winter chill.
Cuncz directed her around the inn, and Elsabeth found the streets of Pruck no less suspiciously empty that morning than she did the common room. Cold as it was the sun was bright, and at the very least the children of town ought to have been out sledding on the slopes, or throwing snowballs, or skating on the iced-over ponds, or doing their chores and tending to the animals put away in the barns for the winter. Instead, all was empty and silent. Not eerily so, but the windswept peace of a winter’s morning after a gentle snowfall. But conscious as she was of Cuncz beside her (he now threaded his arm through hers to lead her whither he willed) she held little doubt there was some mischief at play.
Around the back of the inn was a wide yard. In one corner, far from the back door leading to the kitchens, stood a brick oven where much of the baking was done, alongside a tall smoker. There were also trestle tables, which in warmer days would be occupied by those who wished to take their meals in the open air, or for the celebrations and feast days hosted at the inn for the community. Elsabeth frowned when she spied a heavy canvas tarp spread out upon one of these tables, surrounded by servants in Cuncz’s livery and, more to her growing concern, an armed guard far larger than she deemed appropriate for Cuncz’s clandestine sojourns. At the far end of the yard, opposite the inn itself, were sections of log stood up on end in a line. Atop each was set a large melon, just about the size of a man’s head.
“All this mystery for a bit of dessert?” she said.
Cuncz chuckled. “You shall see. And of course, I expect everything you do see shall be kept in the strictest confidence.”
She eyed him sidelong. That knowing smirk was plastered across his lips, and Elsabeth wished for nothing more than to wipe it from his features.
“’Tis been a few years since I cut only melons or hog-carcasses in Master Paulus’ training yard, but I know such a gauntlet when I see it.”
“Oh, you shan’t be cutting, I can assure you. Now then—” they reached the table, and at Cuncz’s direction the tarp was rolled back slightly in dramatic fashion. Elsabeth frowned at the contraption that was concealed beneath; it consisted of a long tube of iron fixed to a wooden handle, not unlike the tiller of a crossbow. But there were no prongs, or nut, or trigger, or any other mechanism she could see. “—this is what ’tis all about.”
Cuncz picked it up off the table and set it in Elsabeth’s hands. Then he took a burning slow match from a servant near at hand and directed her towards the line of melons at the far end of the field. She turned the tube this way and that, puzzling over it in a manner that left her feeling maddeningly uneducated in front of Cuncz and his servants.
