The Reluctant Warrior: Rockhaven Trilogy, #1

By Cali Moore

           There was only one way to wealth in 1284, war, and Tarl was very good at it. When the king sought to reward him with land, Tarl chose what most considered a worthless rock. He didn't want to spend his life protecting land others coveted. A bastard sworn to celibacy he also didn't want the king forcing a bride on him.

           Simon knew Tarl would be furious when he rescued Shara and brought her to the Rock, but what else could he do? He couldn't leave her to her father's demented machinations. Shara brought many things with her, including danger. The peace Tarl craved was shattered. As were his own ideals, for Shara also brought everything Tarl was missing in life.

            But would she ever admit it? Could he ever trust that she felt more than gratitude? He didn't want her gratitude. He wanted her love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cali Moore
• Release date: Apr 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393026082

Book preview

Prologue

Wales, 1284 

I still can’t believe you’re happy with this, Simon said with disgust as he surveyed the desolate island off the western coast of Wales. Tis naught but a pile of rock.

But ‘tis my rock, Tarl said easily, shifting in his saddle. The horses had finally been brought over and he was pleased. The lousy earth needed them if it was ever to grow anything other than the scrub grass that produced tough beef and coarse wool. And your port, he reminded his loyal friend who was the closest thing he had to a family.

Tis not built yet, Simon replied sourly.

It will be.

Before the castle?

Aye. We’ll need the port more. For now, we’ll use what’s here.

That sent Simon into further depression. He’d seen what was here and it wasn’t much. Crumbling stone chambers with turf roofs and dirt floors were not the home he had dreamed of all his life. Oh well, he had his ship and though old, it was sound and large enough for his needs. And Tarl’s. All this to keep Edward from choosing you a wife.

It ended his dilemma, Tarl reminded him. I am an ugly bastard incapable of naming either parent. I am completely unacceptable to any highborn lady. He cares naught for this rock and face it, Simon, it will be a challenge.

Simon snorted. I can’t believe you actually got twelve knights to follow you here. At least I’m not the only fool.

Tarl’s Bastard Brigade was feared throughout Wales, England and Scotland. They had done much to help achieve the conquering of Wales and Edward was very grateful. All of Tarl’s knights were bastards, as were their squires. Outcasts and undesirables to civilized society. Angry men who had cared little for their lives. But no more. His loyal men deserved some peace. They deserved to settle down and fight only their own wars. Except of course, those they owed their king when necessary. Tarl had no other overlord and as far as he was concerned, the rest of the world could go to hell. He would take his rock and make a place for himself and his men.

There were few inhabitants on this island and he’d already staked his claim with them. There were five marriageable maids that would have to be dealt with either through marriage or taken elsewhere. They were all comely enough and there would be problems if he didn’t deal with that. He’d already decided to give his men a fortnight to see if any suited them to wive. If more than one desired a single girl, they would fight for her. Any not desired by his knights would be offered to the native men and if they didn’t want her, she would be sent away. He would have no unwed females trying to ruin his kingdom. Tarl didn’t place a high value on women, but he never underestimated them either.

Tarl the Bastard was twenty-five and had been celibate for more than five years. Ever since he’d sat with the man who had taken him and Simon in as young boys and watched him perish from his wenching. The men who had chosen to come with him knew his views and though he’d allowed their dalliances with willing women while they were fighting, they knew he would not stand for it here. There would be no disease to spread, no bastards, and no way a female could play his knights against each other.

There would be peace.

You need a name, Simon said, bringing Tarl out of his musings.

Rock’s not good enough? He teased.

Not if you plan to make something more of it. Please say you are.

Tarl scanned his land. His land. His eyes shut with the realization. ‘Twill be more, Simon, he vowed quietly. Much, much more.

Then it needs a proper name.

I’ll think on it.

Perhaps something from your Viking heritage.

Tarl laughed. You don’t know if I have a drop of Viking blood. Hell, I don’t know if I do.

Simon grinned. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a massive size are pretty good indications. Not to mention the color the sun turns your skin. And of course, your satisfaction with this rock in the middle of the sea. If you’ve no Viking blood, I’m not a bastard.

Perhaps I should call it Valhalla? Tarl suggested.

Simon frowned. That might be sacrilegious. I know nothing of their rituals, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.

You may be right. I have no intention of offending any gods any longer. Something will come to me.

Chapter One

Turkey, Two Years Later

Simon rubbed his eyes wearily. Raheem was as shrewd as he was cruel and he would be glad to finish these negotiations and get home. He missed Rockhaven and wondered what Tarl would make of that. He’d probably laugh his head off. He had just laid down on his bunk when a knock came at his cabin door. Come in!

His squire on land and cabin boy at sea, Jarvis, entered. There’s a man to see you, sir. Says his name is Abdul.

Simon frowned. Now what? Abdul was one of Raheem’s eunuchs. He was a huge man with a warrior’s build. In the sennight Simon had been here, he’d only heard the man say, ‘Yes, master’ in Turk. If it hadn’t been for those two words, he’d have thought the man mute. Not that he’d seen him much. Ali was the one that seemed to be forever at Raheem’s side. Why would Raheem send Abdul? Send him in, Jarvis, and fetch us some ale.

Aye, sir.

Abdul shrank the cabin with his presence. He was much larger than Simon and probably had a couple of inches and a stone on Tarl. Sit, Abdul, Simon offered. Jarvis is fetching ale. The man sat on the chair indicated and stared at Simon nervously. Is something wrong?

You do not like Raheem, he said cautiously.

He’s not very likable, Simon pointed out reasonably. Carefully.

Abdul nodded. Your master, this Tarl, what is he like?

Simon’s brow rose. He is my friend, Abdul. And my lord, though he doesn’t hold that over my head. He is not my master. Are you thinking of leaving? This was all he needed, he thought. Helping a bloody slave escape.

Sahara.

Sahara? Jarvis returned with the ale and some bread and fruit and quietly withdrew. The desert?

No. Abdul shook his head. A child. Well, almost a woman. Tis a long story and I don’t have much time. Sahara is a slave. She is also Raheem’s daughter. She is in great danger and I promised her mother I would see her to England. Raheem won’t wait much longer.

Danger? Simon’s handsome face tightened into a scowl. From her father?

Abdul nodded. Her mother was English. As you have discovered, he hates the English. Usually, he uses his English slaves only until he gets them with child. Then he sells them. He couldn’t sell Sahara’s mother. He desired her too much. He hated her for that, but allowed her to live and bear the child.

Sahara?

Aye. But she is a woman now. She is untouched, but Raheem has started making her watch his couplings. Tis his way of teaching her what is to come.

He wants his own daughter? Simon asked, horrified.

Abdul shrugged. She is a slave to him. Nothing more. Shanna’s daughter, not his. He is a twisted man, my lord, and Sahara is very beautiful. Even more beautiful than her mother was. Raheem so fears her effect on men, none are allowed to see her.

And what am I supposed to do with her?

Your master...your lord. She would make a fine gift for him. She is pure and though she is untouched, she is not unwise to the ways of men and women. She is a harem slave, it is all she knows. She would please him and I would have fulfilled my promise.

My lord is celibate.

Abdul blinked. A eunuch?

Nay. By choice, Simon admitted. He has his reasons.

Is he entering the church?

Simon grinned at that. Nay. Tarl is not a religious man. He is a warrior. He just doesn’t trust females. He’s seen too many friends killed from their diseases or treachery.

Then she is perfect for him, Abdul insisted. Beautiful, pure, and obedient. She will do only what he bids her to. Surely he would prefer a woman in his bed?

Tarl had been getting increasingly short tempered, Simon admitted. Most of his knights had taken brides and there were children of those unions. The rock Simon had so disparaged had become a home. The dock had been finished quickly and the castle had finally been started. The stone structure had continued to grow and though it wasn’t terribly large, it was secure and basically finished. The knights that married all had private structures for their families scattered around the island since the water was an effective bailey wall. The single ones had quarters in the castle itself.

Tarl wanted only the best and had the wealth to acquire it, which was why Simon was here buying silks, tapestries and carpets. It seemed silly to Simon since there was no lady to appreciate it. Even his own wife found it bizarre.

Perhaps Abdul was right. There were no unmarried wenches left on the island and most of the village maids on the mainland were claimed at such a young age it was impossible for him to find a virgin that wasn’t a child. No decent, highborn lady would have him, not that Tarl wanted one of those. Between his bastardy and his relatively worthless rock, Tarl was not considered a prize by any woman.

Abdul had called Sahara a child before a woman. Raheem was a twisted man. For all Simon knew the wench was ten. And just how beautiful? If she was under five and ten, Simon could well be a dead man if he brought her to the Rock.

But if she was old enough and beautiful...

I can’t promise her a life on the island, he finally said. She may well be turned out and there will be little I can do for her then.

Anything is better than leaving her here, Abdul insisted.

He looked at Abdul carefully. Huge, strong, and a degree of compassion. Tarl could well like this man. He seemed less Turkish with every passing moment. One condition.

Name it.

You come too. If she’s turned out, you can protect her.

Abdul grinned. It was more than he’d dared hope.  He rose. Thank you, my lord.

Simon nodded. We’ll be loaded by tomorrow afternoon. We’ll set sail as soon as you arrive. How furious will he be?

Very, Abdul admitted.

How soon will you be missed?

By mid-morning.

Get to the ship as soon after dark as you can. We won’t wait for dawn.

Aye, my lord.

Simon wondered what his life would be worth when he returned to Rockhaven. Oh well. It wasn’t worth worrying about at this point. Time enough for that later.

Abdul knocked on the door with a light heart and entered. He smiled at the vision in front of him. Tis done, my lady.

He agreed? Her forest green eyes, enclosed in a circle of gold, widened. He loved those eyes. They were just like her mother’s.

Aye. He grinned. He wants me too. In case his lord turns you out.

Oh, Abdul! She flung herself into his arms. We’ll be free!

He chuckled and lifted her off her feet for a brief moment. Not quite, but it will be better than here. He set her away from him and looked serious. Sahara, you will have to submit to this man if he wants you. You do understand that, don’t you? You will have to be whatever he wants for as long as necessary. The island is rather secluded and contact with the mainland is minimal. I listened well while they bargained. It’s a good choice and certainly this Simon seems a good man. He called his lord his friend, so maybe Lord Tarl is too. Your father will not let go of you easily and it may well be best to remain there for a few years.

And if I get with child?

There is nothing we can do about that, he said sadly. There is no other way to get you out of here and your father’s plans are surely heinous.

She sighed and walked to a window. I know. This lord will see me as my father always has. A slave, not unhappy with her lot in life.

Tis for the best, he agreed. Were I not also a slave things might be different.

She waved that away. He cannot be as brutal as my father.

He is a warrior.

She turned and grinned impishly. So are you and you are gentle.

He smiled warmly. I should go. Somehow I’ll get clothes to you. We leave for the docks tonight. He turned back to her when he reached the door. Your father has asked for Selene tonight.

Sahara hugged herself tightly and nodded.

The last time, Sahara. Think of that.

I will.

Sahara and Abdul wiped all expression from their faces and entered her father’s chambers. He lounged on his raised bed of silk pillows, clad in his white trousers and a gold vest, open in front. His dark eyes raked his daughter with naked intent and he patted the space beside him. Come, he ordered. We have a few moments before Selene arrives. Sahara approached him slowly. Abdul took his customary place by the door.

Raheem clapped his hands as soon as she sat down next to him and a slave appeared with wine for each of them and withdrew quickly. Drink. All of it.

Sahara wondered if it was drugged and would have risked punishment by refusing if it were any other night. If it were drugged, she would have to trust Abdul to carry her out. She drank some wine.

Raheem reached out and tangled a long lock of silky black hair around his hand, his eyes studying her intently. The time draws near. Are you as eager to please me as I am you?

Abdul’s hands clenched behind his back and thoughts of murder filled his head even as he prayed Sahara would give the answer Raheem wanted.

You are my father, She couldn’t stop the words from forming on her lips.

Ali! Raheem snapped. I am your master, he said slowly. He glanced pointedly at the shackles between two posts that secured an offender for discipline.

Abdul prayed she would keep her tongue still and not make this last night any worse than it had to be. Sahara managed a glance in his direction beneath lowered lids while she sipped her wine. Abdul relaxed slightly at her tone when she finally answered her father. Yes, master.

Wise decision, Sahara, he murmured and summoned Selene.

Sahara got through the evening by thinking of the world outside the harem. Abdul had told her much of her mother’s homeland and she was eager to see it. The journey didn’t scare her, nor did the thought of Tarl. Tonight, she would leave this place. If the new one proved as distasteful, she would leave that one too. Or die trying. There was much she didn’t know, but she made a vow to herself as she sat there. She would never return to this place.

Not alive anyway.

Abdul grabbed her arm gently as soon as they were dismissed and out of sight of Raheem’s chambers. Tis over. Get dressed. I’ll return shortly.

Where are you going?

If we get caught, we’re both dead. If we don’t, I have no intention of finding ourselves stuck in an Englishman’s prison forever. I’m going into the harem to steal a few baubles.

She nodded her approval. Good. I’ll be ready when you get back.

Raheem’s paranoia about his desire for his daughter worked to their advantage. Abdul was never far from Sahara’s side and the sight of them moving from one place to another was not unusual, even at this hour, since she was to use the baths late at night when the other women weren’t there. Abdul nodded to the sleepy guard as they entered the bathhouse. Sahara looked like she always did when she came, her long silk robe covering the boy’s clothes Abdul had managed to steal, a veil distorting her face. In the basket that normally held her oils and lotions were the jewels he had also stolen. She had one silk gown binding her breasts, a turban wrapped around her waist and a boot under each arm.

Quickly, Abdul whispered. By Allah, I hope he goes back to sleep.

He always does. Sahara quickly wrapped the dirty turban around her head and stepped into her boots. She smeared a black paste over her fair face. When he next wakes, he’ll peek in and find we left while he slept. He’ll think nothing of it. And if my father hasn’t lied, he may not look for either of us tomorrow.

Don’t rely on that. Abdul tied the leather pouch with the jewels around his waist, under his tunic. Let’s go.

They listened at the garden wall and hearing nothing, Abdul hoisted her up to the top. It’s clear, Sahara whispered. Abdul pulled himself up, took a quick look around, lowered her down, then himself. Together they ran from their prison walls.

Abdul would have given anything for a sword as they walked quickly to the docks. Though most were abed, there was still life on the streets. If they were caught, the brand on his shoulder and the collar on her neck would identify them as Raheem’s property and they would be returned. Should that happen, they would both pray for death.

Three filthy men stepped out from an alley. What have we here? One of them demanded. And in such a hurry?

Sahara eyed them coldly. We have nothing, she said in the deepest voice she could manage.

He laughed. Now, boy, that makes me think you do have something. He advanced with a toothless smile. Sahara gave a quick nod to Abdul and kicked the attacker in his groin. Abdul smashed the other two’s heads together. All three crumpled and they gave up on their slower pace and ran full out toward the harbor.

Which way? She asked breathlessly.

Down there, Abdul pointed to a ship with a torch at the top of its plank. He was amazed at how well she kept pace even though he had done his best to prepare her for this day. He had taught her how to fight and how to keep her body fit. She had worked hard in her long solitary hours and he was glad to see it had paid off. She’d been raised in a harem, but was no pampered female. A fact her father would be very surprised to learn. They reached the plank and ran up it.

Simon spared no time for introductions and didn’t have to shout his orders. As soon as they were on board, the crew prepared to depart and within minutes, they were pulling away from the dock. Simon glanced at the stars above and prayed Tarl wouldn’t kill him. In record time, they rowed out of the harbor and unfurled the sails.

Not knowing where to go or what to do to help, Abdul took Sahara to an out of the way spot and they sat with their backs against a barrel near the bow. Sahara watched in fascination, first the steady movement of the oars in the water, then the sails being set. She thought it more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. The finest silk, the clearest gem, nothing could compare to the sight of this ship at sail.

Freedom.

She breathed deeply of the salt air, enjoying its tang and squeezed Abdul’s hand. We did it.

He will come after us, he warned. He won’t like losing either of us.

But he did. And he won’t get us back. Not alive. Promise me that, Abdul. Promise me you’ll kill me before allowing that.

It conflicted with the vow he’d made her mother, but if they were caught, he would have no hope of honoring that anyway. I give you my word.

Thank you.

Time passed. Abdul snored quietly beside her, but Sahara couldn’t sleep. No matter what Lord Tarl was like, she would deal with him. Abdul was her father in the ways that really mattered. He had loved her mother and had lost his manhood for it. He had given that love to her daughter. He was not low-born, Sahara wasn’t even convinced he was Turkish. He knew too much about the world she was going to. He spoke too many languages. And he’d been a warrior. He used Turkish and Islamic expressions but he knew Christianity. Too well to have only gotten it only from her mother. He could read and cipher and had taught her both. Not only the little he knew of the language of her birth, but English as well. The ease with which they’d escaped confirmed her suspicions that he could have at any time, but had refused to leave first her mother and then her.

He was a man of honor and she would thank this captain for allowing him to come. Life in a strange land would be much easier with Abdul by her side.

Simon could tell nothing about the maid that could well cause his banishment. He’d decided Tarl would never kill him. Even banishment would only last as long as his temper, which fortunately never lasted long. Perhaps a day. He grinned at his own musings. The more he’d thought about gifting Tarl with a comely maid, complete with guard, the more he thought Tarl just might come to like the idea. After all, the man had been celibate for seven years. It wasn’t natural.

And who knew? If she was truly biddable and quiet, Tarl could keep her around for a good long time. Certainly he would approve of Simon’s rescuing her from her bastard of a father. She was probably soft and gentle and if Tarl was careful she could grow to love him. He wasn’t at all a bad man once you got past the forbidding exterior.

He finally relinquished command to Devon, his first mate, and walked to where Sahara and Abdul had sat quietly out of the way since they had boarded. If they continued to show this much sense, they would be easy passengers. He squatted next to the girl. Are you tired? He queried softly. Devon is going to bunk with me and you and Abdul can have his cabin. Tis the best I can do. We only have the two and they aren’t much.

She smiled, showing even, white teeth. I’d be grateful if I had to spend the voyage out here on the deck. She sighed. Tis beautiful.

Aye, he agreed, then realized she had spoken his own language. You speak English?

She laughed lightly. It sounded like music and Simon had to remind himself he was a happily married man. Abdul taught me. My mother was English. Irish too, her maternal ancestors anyway. I’m Sahara, my lord, though I imagine my new master will want to give me an English name.

He shook his head. Three errors in that statement, Sahara. I am not a lord. I am a knight, which entitles me to the title of Sir. And I am the captain of this vessel. Since you will mostly see me on land, you might as well call me Sir Simon. And Lord Tarl will be your lord, not your master. If you remain at Rockhaven, he added silently.

All right. What’s the third error?

Lord Tarl will not change your name.

She frowned. She had expected him to do so. Then may I pick one?

The request didn’t surprise him as much as maybe it should have and he nodded. Her father had probably named her and he didn’t blame her at all for wanting to rid herself of it. Aye.

Shara, she finally said. Tis close, but different. My mother’s name was Shanna, so tis close to that too. I think she would have liked it.

‘Twas what she called you when she was alone with you, Abdul said quietly. Perhaps, deep inside, you remember that.

Shara, then, Simon said agreeably. How about you, Abdul? If you’re going to change yours, you should do it now.

Stephen, he said quickly, his speech thickening. They both looked at him quizzically. Tis my name.

You’re not Turkish! Shara exclaimed.

He smiled then. Nay, lass. I’m a Scot.

Simon frowned. Our king is sending armies into Scotland trying to conquer it. Will that be a problem for you? Tarl will be called for his service. He owes his service as does any other baron, though ten days less.

Everyone has always tried to conquer Scotland, your king will be no more successful, Stephen said dryly.

Simon laughed. Personally, I think you’re right. Highlander?

Aye.

Something tells me we won’t be seeing any more of Abdul the Arab. You seem to have slipped right back into your Scot’s skin.

Abdul was necessary. He sighed. ‘Twill be nice to be Stephen once again. If I ever cross paths with Raheem again, ‘twill be Stephen he has to deal with.

Clan?

I’d rather not say. It no longer matters. If your Lord Tarl accepts us, I’ll pledge fealty to him. If not, we will be on our way.

Which would you prefer? Simon asked suspiciously.

There was no subservience in the look Stephen gave Simon. It was the look of one warrior to another. Measuring. That depends on Lord Tarl. You appear to be an honorable man and you called him friend. I have high hopes he is one as well. I have no problem serving an honorable man, Sir Simon.

And you’ll buy your place with a woman?

She will buy her safety at whatever price he requires. I will earn my place and honor by my vow.

Simon nodded. Tarl would definitely approve of Stephen. The girl, well, time would tell. Come. I’ll show you to your cabin. It was little more than a box on the deck, but it would keep out the rain if a storm hit.

It was the look on his men’s faces that warned him. Simon turned slowly and wondered if he would ever breathe again. Shara was still wearing her trousers and tunic, but the turban and blackening were gone. Her black hair shone to the point of looking blue. She’d queued it back with a piece of silk, but the wind blew it around to her front, where it fell below her hips. Long, straight, and a marvelous foil for Tarl’s fair hair.

Her face couldn’t have been more perfect if the most talented artist in the world had dreamed it up. A slender oval with high cheekbones and a straight, thin nose. Her lips were full and a deep red, her black brows arched gracefully. She was too far away to see her eyes and he called for her to join him.

Did you sleep well? Green. Dark forest green. And gold. The irises were ringed in gold. He blinked. He’d never seen anything like them. She had a thin scar traveling down from the corner of her right eye. He reached out to touch it. Your father?

Aye. The only time he forgot himself and marked me.

Simon dropped his hand, sickened.  Not all men are evil, Shara, he said gently.

I know that. Abdul...Stephen, she corrected herself, Isn’t.

Are you educated?

I can read, if that’s what you mean. And cipher.

I’m surprised your father bothered.

She laughed. This time it wasn’t joyful. No music. My father would have killed Stephen if he’d known he was teaching me.

What else do you know how to do?

Fight. She turned her face into the wind and smiled. I think I would have liked to be a sailor.

She really was splendid, he thought. Fight? He decided to leave that one for now. Where is Stephen?

Still sleeping. He worries so about me he doesn’t get much so I didn’t wake him. Am I allowed on deck without him?

Aye. My men won’t touch you. At least he’d threatened them with castration if they did. But Christ, this one was tempting. Despite her obvious youth, the wind pinning the shirt to her revealed high, full breasts. Her waist was ridiculously narrow and flared pleasantly to hips that would bear children well. If Tarl didn’t realize his luck, he should join a monastery.

Tell me about Lord Tarl, Shara asked quietly. What manner of man is he?

Big. But not as big as Stephen. He has golden hair, blue eyes, and many scars. He’s been in battles all of his life.

Nay, not his looks. They matter naught. What kind of man is he?

"He is a bastard. All his knights are. We’re called the Bastard Brigade. He has no idea who either of his parents were and makes no secret of it. He doesn’t care and it’s not really bitterness. It just doesn’t matter to him. We were thieves on the streets of London when we got caught by a knight who took pity on us and made us pages. He taught us war, but little else. Neither of us read, but we can both cipher. Tarl wanted one thing in life. A place to call his own. He earned it, and by the time he did, had enough wealth to turn it into something. He was gifted Rockhaven two years ago.

"‘Twas little more than a pile of rocks then. I was appalled that he’d settled for it. His reasoning was simple. Rockhaven is small, easy to defend, and unimportant to the crown. He wouldn’t have to spend his life actively defending it and the king promised he wouldn’t force him to marry if that barren crag was all he wanted in return for his service.

"Tarl’s a determined man, mayhap a little single-minded, but he gets what he goes after. He got his rock and decided a port was the first priority, not only for my ship, but for fishing and trading. He built that first. His next goal was to turn some of the interior land, which is largely thin sandy soil, or unforgiving rock, into fertile ground. That was a lot harder and took much longer. He’s no farmer and can’t read so he went to the mainland and found a farmer unhappy with his lot. His name is Clyde. He works hard and has managed to start an orchard he thinks will produce in a couple of years. Apples, pears, even some nuts of some sort. He’s gotten barley to take hold and some vegetables and hay. He’s even improved the grasses on the hillsides. He had Tarl purchase feed for the stock while he experimented. He has three grown sons who help him, along with some of