The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series

by Chautona Havig

  Something in the woman’s voice told him not to dally. As he scrubbed, using the cloth in the basin to get behind his ears as his mother always insisted he do on Sundays before they walked to the chapel, Philip observed the fascinating sights, sounds, and scents of the kitchen. Liam’s father slowly roasted venison over a spit while a woman pounded bread on a nearby table. Servants came to and fro on various errands and tasks, often pointing at him and whispering.

  “Are you done yet?”

  He jerked up his head, startled. “Um- what?”

  “Are-you-clean-yet?” the woman droned as she scrubbed another potato.

  “Yes.”

  “Follow Minerva then.”

  Philip thought Minerva was a terrible name for such a nice-looking child. A name like Minerva should be reserved for old hags with hooknoses and penchants for sorcery. The little girl didn’t speak as she led him through the small corridor to the great hall, where Lord Morgan teased his daughter about forgetting some important event.

  “Good morning, Philip. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, I’m very hungry.”

  The lord of the castle smiled indulgently as the lad seated himself at the large table that filled the center of the room. “Enjoy your meal, and then I’d like to introduce you to my daughter.”

  “I can wait—”

  “But I don’t want you to wait. I want you to eat.”

  Unable to argue further, Philip ate quickly. Lord Morgan and his daughter watched beneath lowered lashes, dismayed. They mistook his haste for near starvation, and it pricked their hearts sorely. The moment Philip left, the young girl intended to beg her father to send food to his family, but Lord Morgan was already devising his own similar plans.

  “That was excellent, m’lord. I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

  Laughter rang throughout the great hall. “Then you made haste out of courtesy rather than need, is it?”

  “Need?”

  “I am afraid my daughter and I were under the impression that you must have had little to eat in recent days or weeks.”

  Blushing, Philip shook his head emphatically. “Oh no, m’lord. The fletcher’s wife has a good larder, and my own modor feeds us well.” He held out his arm. “As you see, I’m not all bones.”

  “Well,” the man continued, clearing his throat. “Aurelia, this is the boy who helped little Dove save you from the kidnappers.”

  To Philip, Lady Aurelia Morgan looked like a princess. She wore a pale blue silk gown, and blonde curls tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. The blue gown matched Aurelia’s eyes almost perfectly, and her wan skin reminded Philip that she wasn’t able to walk and play in the sunshine as other children do. Her eyes, though pale, were intelligent, and there wasn’t the air of self-pity about her that he’d expected.

  “Um, about Dove…” he didn’t know how to explain that the child had already gone home.

  “She left a little while before you came downstairs. We had a good talk with her, didn’t we, dear heart?”

  Something new entered Philip’s soul as he heard the lord of Wynnewood address his daughter with such affection. It sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world, calling a child ‘dear heart’, and immediately, he knew that if he ever had a little girl of his own, he would always think of her that way. His mind was far away somewhere in a cottage and sometime in the future, when a voice pierced his reverie.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “Well, that was obvious, wasn’t it, Father?” Aurelia laughed at Philip’s chagrin, but her expression was understanding and kind.

  “You’re worried about your little friend, aren’t you, Philip?”

  “Yes, m’lord. I woke up this morning, and it didn’t seem like last night’s excitement was such a wonderful thing anymore. I helped Dove do something dangerous, and—”

  “And do you think you could have stopped her, boy?”

  Flushing, Philip hung his head. “No. It’s just—”

  “That you are old enough to realize the consequences of such rash actions,” Lord Morgan finished for him. The man nodded slowly and sighed. “I woke up with much the same thought. I was so distracted with concern for my child last night that I did a reprehensible thing— I endangered another child in exchange.”

  “I think that allowances might be made for—” Philip stopped midsentence, mortified that he’d spoken so freely.

  “Continue.”

  With a frown, Philip finished his thoughts, aware that Lord Morgan might consider him impertinent. “I just thought that a man might be excused when forced to make immediate decisions that involve the safety of his child. We had time to plan, and while I was thinking of how to get into the castle and tell you, I believe Dove was planning how to capture the men.”

  “You are correct. That is just what she told me this morning.”

  “Did you,” Philip asked knowing he was pushing the limits of his welcome, “happen to catch them?”

  “We did, and you children were correct. The nurse was part of the scheme.”

  “For ransom, I assume,” Philip muttered under his breath as he reasoned the idea out in his mind.

  “Not exactly. They didn’t know for whom they worked, but the point wasn’t to extract money from me, but to turn my child over to someone else who would pay much for her. I don’t know who, but we’ll discover the guilty parties and bring them to justice.”

  Philip nodded slowly. “You are a good man, m’lord. I don’t believe I’d be interested in justice if I were in your place. I fear I’d be consumed with thoughts of vengeance.”

  Silence hung over the large room after Philip spoke. After several strained seconds, Lord Morgan nodded. “I see. And what loss have you suffered that taught you to desire vengeance?”

  “I—” Philip hesitated awkwardly. How could he refuse to answer a man to whom he knew he owed all his loyalty? “I cannot say, my lord.”

  “Will not, I think. What if I should compel you?”

  Squaring his shoulders for what would likely be the thrashing of his life, Philip raised his eyes to meet Lord Morgan’s and said, “I’m afraid you cannot. No one could.”

  “I see. I think then, young Philip, it is a good thing that you are such a likeable chap, that I am not my father, and that you have done me such a good service. Without any one of those things, I might be tempted to test you on that declaration.”

  Something in Lord Morgan’s voice, amusement perhaps, or admiration, caused Philip to smile. “Somehow, I do not think you would, m’lord. I think that is why Wynnewood is such a fine place. We serve you and your family out of love and respect, rather than compulsion or fear. You don’t abuse us, and we don’t cheat you. My fæder says many lords aren’t like you, and we need to thank the gods—”

  He stopped miserably. It always embarrassed Philip that his father rejected the God of the Bible in favor of weak gods that were, according to Broðor Clarke, adult fairy tales. “My fæder thinks highly of you, m’lord,” Philip added lamely.

  “You tell your father that I said I think highly of his son, too.”

  Dove, waiting in the wood for Philip, had grown annoyed and impatient. Philip’s mother, frantic when her son hadn’t arrived home that night, had sent his friends scattering everywhere, looking for him until it was time to walk to the chapel for Broðor Clarke’s service. Once word spread through the village that Philip had gone to meet the ‘Ge-sceaft’ but had not come home, the villagers were in an uproar.

  In addition to his disappearance, the tavern keeper’s daughter had not washed the oysters as directed, and as a result, several people had spent a miserable night. When Una heard about the oysters, she stormed over to the tavern to see if they were the same ones Philip had tried to give her. Word spread like a wildfire that Dove was responsible for the “poisoned oysters.”

  So, by the time Philip arrived in the clearing full of exciting things to share, apologies for his recklessness, and
questions about her time with Lord Morgan, the town was nearly ready to hunt down little Dove and kill her. At the first sight of him, she ran to meet him, sending a stinging slap across his face. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? Do you know the town thinks I have killed you and tried to poison your master? Do you care?”

  “What?”

  She whirled and stormed through the forest without the slightest attempt to keep her movements quiet. Philip, while eager to get home for the last bit of time he had with his family that Sunday, followed her. People thought she’d killed him? Hadn’t word spread yet about her bravery? A new thought crossed his mind. He stopped and retraced his steps back through the forest, across the fields, and up the road to the castle, stopping again at the gate.

  Almost an hour later, his feet flew over fields and through the forest; at least one curious child heard as he pounded on the door of the midwife’s cottage. The short wiry woman opened the door reluctantly. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “I need Dove—”

  “Who?”

  Philip resisted the urge to slam his fist against the side of the house and tried again. “Your— um—”

  “He means me, remember?” called the familiar childish voice from inside the cottage. “Let him in before he strains his head with the confusion of life without a name.”

  “You can name yourself for all I care—”

  “And she’s had to, no thanks to you.” Bitterness poisoned every word as he spat them out distastefully.

  “Oh, so because I care enough about appearances to keep myself able to feed and clothe us, I am the villain. You’re so young. Go talk to the chit.”

  Without another word, the woman stormed from the cottage. They assumed she was angry with Philip, but had they seen the smile around the corners of her mouth, they would have been astonished. Someone as the child’s local champion meant an easier life for them.

  “Why did you run off like that?”

  “You didn’t even follow!” she retaliated.

  “I started to,” Philip said, kicking the dirt floor with his big toe. “Then I thought I should ask Lord Morgan if it was ok to tell the story. I mean, it might make it hard to catch the people behind the people….” He glared at her skeptical posture. “Oh Dove, I didn’t want all you went through last night to be wasted just because I was stupid. It could ruin everything if I went through town telling everyone what great things you’d done, without asking first.”

  The hood ducked, and a little sigh escaped, seeming to echo through the room. “So, you’re going to attempt logic to make me feel guilty for being frustrated. That’s just maddening.” Only the merest hint of amusement hovered in her voice.

  “Well, actually, I came to see if you wanted to go back to the clearing tomorrow night. Then, I want to go into town and tell the world how you saved Aurelia from kidnappers.”

  “You go. I’m staying here, but I’ll be out there tomorrow night. The moon will still be bright.”

  Philip paused at the door, glancing around the room curiously. The sight of a small bed in the farthest corner from the door made him frown, as he remembered a small, terrified child tied up like an errant animal. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’m off to inspire a new ballad about the ‘Ge-sceaft’ who saved the lord’s daughter.”

  Chapter 9

  Rumors

  “Philip!” His mother sank to the bench near the fireplace. “We thought—”

  “I know. Lord Morgan said he sent someone, but—”

  Mrs. Ward dropped her head in her hands. “I knew I should have forbidden you doing anything with that thing.”

  “She’s a girl, Modor. A little girl about Ellie’s age. She is all alone with no one to—”

  “She has the midwife, so don’t try to persuade me—”

  Philip interrupted rudely. “The midwife who tied her up in the house when she was hardly older than Adam? Who never named her? The woman who never touches her or shows her any compassion?”

  “She told you this, and you believe her. Of course, she did,” the mother sighed wearily. “She truly is a sorceress. Did you know she poisoned the—?”

  “She did not! I brought those oysters. I found them, shucked them, put them in fresh water, and took them to Una, but she didn’t want them. I didn’t have time to bring them here, so I took them to Alice, told her about rinsing them in new water, and how Dove said to fix them. They didn’t listen.”

  “She has you enchanted! It is terrifying.” His mother took several steps across the room and cupped her son’s face in her hands. When had he gotten nearly as tall as she was? “You can’t be seen with her. You’ll be tainted by association. I’m glad you are merciful toward the unlovely. I’m proud to see you show compassion. I truly am. Even so, I will not have you ostracized for the sake of someone so dangerous.”

  “What about for someone who saved Lady Aurelia from kidnappers last night? Will you risk my reputation being associated with someone like that?”

  “The lord’s daughter? How?”

  Philip told his mother of their night under the stars, watching for the dragon, and hearing the kidnappers. He described their trek through the woods, the way they convinced the guards to rouse Lord Morgan, and how Dove had pretended to be the lord’s daughter so that the child would not be in any true danger, while they gave the castle guards a chance to catch the men. As he spoke, his mother’s eyes widened in alarm, then dismay, and finally pride.

  “You and that—”

  “Girl,” Philip interjected quickly.

  “—girl,” his mother agreed with a smile, “Saved m’lord’s daughter? You are a hero! She is a heroine. They’ll tell this story for centuries.”

  “That’s why I have to tell everyone. They have spread such horrible lies about her.”

  With a hug and a smile, he raced from the door looking for Angus. Angus would tell his sister, and in minutes, the village would have heard all. She was like a town crier, Letty Wood was. She’d spread the news faster than a field fire.

  The sight of him alone was enough to restart the village buzzing with news. Wives stood in the doorways to their cottages, while children raced to ask how he’d escaped from the Ge-sceaft. The blacksmith called to him and asked a dozen questions. Philip enjoyed the attention and told the story of Dove’s bravery as proudly as any elder brother or father ever could. People scoffed at first— it was only natural that they might, but eventually Lord Morgan’s guard rode through the town, as promised, making apologies for his delay, and collaborating Philip’s story.

  Now if Philip were honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was just a little disheartened by the small role he was given in the telling of the tale. After all, without his acquaintance with the head archer Peter, no one would have listened to the evil creature that the locals had conjured of little Dove in their minds.

  People whispered about sorcery and asked about poison. Finally, in utter exasperation, Philip threw up his hands and cried, “If you want to blame someone for Alice’s illness, blame me. I found the oysters, shucked them, and gave them. The midwife and Dove ate the same oysters and prepared them as I directed John’s wife to do. If the tavern ignored my instructions, it’s their own fault that they are ill— if the source even is the oysters. It could be anything.”

  This sent a new wave of rumors and whispers rolling over the village. Was the midwife a sorceress too? Was it just a bad oyster that anyone could have found? Was it a new illness brought by that traveling minstrel? Was the Creature something less fearsome than they’d always imagined? Was Philip Ward possessed by the evil spirit that lurked within the thing?

  Una Fletcher was harder to convince. At first, when Philip refused to cut off all association with Dove, Una demanded that Tom send his apprentice home and cancel the agreement. Only the realization that they depended on the purchase of arrows by Lord Morgan and the public commendation by his guardsmen, prevented her utter rejection of the boy. However, her suspicion of him wa
s firmly rooted in the events of that fateful weekend, and the lives of Wynnewood villagers were irrevocably changed that night.

  “Are the rumors dissipating?”

  Broðor Clarke nodded his head slowly. “There is still some suspicion, but how can you argue with saving the lord’s daughter?”

  “And Philip’s apprenticeship? Was that affected?”

  The tired minister’s shoulders drooped. “Severely. The fletcher will not risk a breach with the castle, m’lord, but his wife is unnerved by Philip’s connection with the child. I do think if she hadn’t waited so long to conceive, that she’d risk a birth without the midwife, and is antagonistic toward all three of them now.”

  Lord Morgan knew that the situation was precarious. At the wee hours of the morning, it had been difficult to consider anything but his daughter’s safety and apprehending the outlaws who dared try to steal her from him. Two days later, after rest and reflection, he knew the circumstances demanded he handle them with care.

  “What do you suggest?”

  Broðor Clarke’s answer surprised and disappointed Lord Morgan. “I suggest that we do nothing. Tom Fletcher and his wife are kind people. Una is frightened, but she’s not cruel. She’ll treat Philip well, and if anything, give him more opportunities to spend time away from the cottage. The lad is conscientious. He’ll ensure his work, such as it is, is finished each day. He won’t leave Una to do more than is healthy as her condition progresses.”

  “She is with child then,” Lord Morgan mused.

  “I’ll train the boy in everything I can and send him here often on little errands. Your head archer might be able to spend some time training him to shoot. At the least, the boy can learn archery, how to behave within castle walls, and basic theology. I’ll teach him Latin and—”

  “Aurelia could work with him on that. After I know you’ve given him the basics, I could request,” Lord Morgan agreed, “that he quiz her to give her someone to practice with from time to time.”