Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Satisfied that the knights would behave, Margaretha’s gaze moved over her son and the lovely young woman sitting next to him. She’d not seen the woman clearly when she arrived for the sheer fact that she had been wearing a cloak. But now she could see the woman plainly – a beautiful creature with high cheekbones and silken hair.

  Now, Margaretha was coming to see the real reason behind Val’s invitation to these guests – a beautiful woman. Her son had always had an eye for lovely women, much as his father had. Now, she understood everything perfectly. It wasn’t so much an old friend he’d invited to sup but his old friend’s beautiful daughter.

  Now, it all makes sense….

  The truth was that Margaretha resented the intrusion of her son’s friends and she hardly said a word to McCloud since she went to escort the man to sup. But now with Val present, she thought to, perhaps, amend that attitude. She thought to prove a point to her son about this man he had called his friend, a man who dressed in rags and who had commented about the richness of Selborne. Not all men, regardless of the beauty of their daughters, were worthy to be at Val de Nerra’s table.

  Perhaps it was time for Val to realize he needed to be more careful when it came to befriending men. She’d been stewing about it ever since their arrival; aye, perhaps it was time to teach her son a lesson.

  “Val,” she said, her focus on her food. “I was hoping that your friend would tell us about himself. Since you have not seen him in so long, mayhap there is a good deal to tell of his peace and prosperity.”

  Val looked at McCloud, who was seated down the bench from his mother. It was as if Margaretha was deliberately isolating herself from the others, sitting off as she was. It was his mother’s way of disapproving of his guests.

  “McCloud,” Val said politely. “My mother wants to know why you have come to Selborne. She believes you are plotting to marry me and inherit my property. Will you please tell her you are not plotting anything?”

  McCloud’s head snapped up from his food, looking at Val in shock as Margaretha’s manner turned sour.

  “I said nothing of the kind,” she hissed. “Val, you will apologize for slandering me in front of your guests!”

  Val was fighting off a grin. He could see that Calum and the other knights had their faces turned away from him, no doubt fighting smiles of their own. It was always great fun to rib Margaretha until she began throwing things, in which case it was all fun and games until someone lost an eye. But nothing was thrown as of yet, so Val was still confident in jesting with his mother. Lazily, he sighed.

  “My apologies, Mother,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t mean it at all. “McCloud, my mother said nothing of the kind. But I would still like to hear of your life since last I saw you. Surely you have seen great adventure and prosperity.”

  McCloud swallowed the food in his mouth. He’d been steadily stuffing his belly since they’d arrived in the hall, starving as he was. It had been years since he’d so much to eat at one time. He was loathed to take the time to converse, but he did so out of courtesy.

  “There is not much to tell, truthfully,” he said, realizing they were on what could be a very sensitive subject. “Durley is my home and, although I do not believe you have ever been there, it is a farm. It has been in my family since before the Normans came to our shores. We have apple and pear trees and flocks of sheep. At least, we did. I will admit that times have been difficult the past few years.”

  Val was listening with interest. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said, putting bread in his mouth. “What happened?”

  McCloud shook his head. “Truthfully, I do not know. The orchards had a blight move through them. It has been difficult for them to bear fruit. But I do not complain. We have food in our bellies and a roof over our head. God sees to our needs.”

  Considering the state of his friend’s clothing and the fact that he had no horses for transportation, Val wondered if that was really the truth but he didn’t question the man further. He would leave the man with some semblance of pride and not force him to bear his soul in front of strangers, even if Val was asking the questions out of concern. He forced a smile.

  “Then I am happy to hear that God has shown you such fortune,” he said. “In speaking with Lady Vesper, she mentioned your son. Why did he not travel with you to Eynsford?”

  McCloud held a steady expression even though he was shocked to hear that Vesper had mentioned Mat. “Because… because someone must remain at the farm to tend it,” he said. “My son does not like to leave home. He prefers to remain there.”

  It was a reasonable explanation, one that Val believed. He had no reason not to. “I hope to meet him someday,” he said.

  McCloud forced a smile, vastly uncomfortable on the subject of his son. “He is not very sociable, unfortunately,” he said. “But… but we would, of course, be honored with your visit.”

  Val was chewing on his pork now, using a broad knife to shovel it into his mouth. “Durley,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you tell me once that it was near Southampton?”

  “I did.”

  Val continued to chew. “I’ve not been to Southampton in quite a while,” he said. “I have heard the weather is quite fair there. Mayhap my mother and I are due for a visit.”

  Margaretha was sipping at her hot, mulled wine, her favored drink. “There is nothing in Southampton that I could want for,” she said, making it clear she had no intention of visiting the d’Avignon homestead. “Much like your friend’s son, I prefer to remain at home.”

  McCloud turned to her. “I do not blame you in the least, my lady,” he said. “Selborne is a beautiful place. I would never want to leave it, either.”

  Margaretha looked at the man, hearing that appraising tone again, the same one she’d heard when he’d first arrived at Selborne. She didn’t like it in the least and her eyes narrowed as she responded.

  “The castle has been in my family for well over two hundred years,” she said. “My family heritage is Saxon, a long and distinguished line. We managed to keep our lands when the Normans came and when I die, the estate shall be passed to Valor.”

  McCloud wasn’t oblivious to the woman’s suspicious nature; he could read it in her expression. Not that he blamed her, for in this case, she was absolutely right – he was quite envious of Selborne. He had been since he’d walked through the gates and, in seeing the great castle, the plans that had been working in his mind since Whitehill began to take definitive form.

  He’d had the entire afternoon to think on his scheme and plan what was to come. It was a pity for greatness like Selborne to belong only to one man, one family. But confident in his plan as he was, he also knew that he had to be very careful about his words or actions if Lady Margaretha was already suspicious of him. Yet his plan, for all of its unsophisticated beauty, was so very simple….

  If he could marry Vesper to Val, his troubles would be over.

  Even if McCloud’s body didn’t move swiftly these days, his mind did. It was clear that Val wasn’t married and McCloud was seeking a husband for his daughter. That has been his whole purpose of going to Eynsford – a marriage for his daughter that would lift their family out of their poverty-stricken state. What could be better than a marriage between Vesper and his dear friend, the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire? Not only would it ensure the survival of the House of d’Avignon, but if Mat’s ghastly deeds were ever discovered, surely Vesper’s husband could not punish his wife’s brother.

  It was the perfect situation.

  But he had to be more clever than Lady de Nerra for his plans to come to fruition. He didn’t want her blocking his attempts. In truth, there was something to be said for him marrying again as well. And with Lady de Nerra being a widow, that might be another avenue to pursue.

  Ah, yes… be clever!

  “Then your son and his future wife are very fortunate to not only have such a distinguished matriarch, but such a fine estate,” he said after a moment, throwing in a little fla
ttery for the old bird. “In fact, Val never told me he had such a lovely mother. I shall become very angry at him for not telling me.”

  Ripples of surprise rolled across Margaretha’s face, stumped for a reply for the first time in a very long while. But that surprise quickly turned to annoyance. “Flattery will not work on me,” she told McCloud. “I am too old to fall victim to such things.”

  McCloud grinned. “That cannot be true,” he said. “For certainly, when I first saw you, I believed you to be Val’s sister.”

  Margaretha nearly choked on her wine, but her round cheeks flushed a bit. “Then your eyesight is terrible.”

  “That is possible, but I still know a lovely woman when I see one, Lady de Nerra. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth.”

  Margaretha hadn’t been complimented in so many years that the soft praise poked holes in her brusque matter. Perhaps McCloud was only feigning his flattery, perhaps he wasn’t. Perhaps he really meant it. Margaretha was so unused to such things that she simply didn’t know what to think and her feminine vanity, long buried, began to awaken, just a little.

  As his mother flushed and pretended not to care that a man had paid her a compliment, Val watched the entire scene with a grin on his face. He loved seeing his mother ruffled.

  “Keep talking, McCloud,” he encouraged the man. “Mayhap you will cause her to smile. I think she likes it.”

  Margaretha waved a hand at her son as if to brush him off. “You are a beast,” she told him. “Flattery is the product of a weak male mind.”

  Val’s eyebrows lifted, looking at the other men around the table, including Calum. “Did you hear that?” he said to the knight. “Your mind must be horribly weak because I know for a fact that you flattered Celesse most sickeningly when you were courting her.”

  Calum laughed. “And I thought I was being rather clever about it.”

  Celesse patted his cheek. “You were, my love,” she said. “You were so clever that I believed every word.”

  “And now look at you.”

  Celesse sighed and patted her pregnant belly. “Aye, now look at me,” she said. Then, she looked at Vesper. “Are you married, my lady?”

  Vesper, who had been paying less attention to the conversation and more attention to her food, looked at Celesse as if startled by the question. Mouth full, she struggled to swallow her bite.

  “N-Nay, my lady, I am not,” she said.

  Celesse didn’t sense that she might be embarrassing the guest. “I cannot believe such a thing,” she said, meaning it as a compliment. “You are quite lovely, which I am sure has not gone unnoticed by any of the unmarried knights here. Are you betrothed?”

  Vesper was starting to flush again, her cheeks turning hot. “I am not, my lady,” she replied, praying this woman would move to another subject. Not wanting to take the chance that she wouldn’t, she sought to change the focus herself. “May I ask when your child is due to be born?”

  Any mention of her baby and Celesse was more than willing to speak on it. She forgot about the unmarried lady at the table and beamed as she rubbed her belly.

  “Early next year,” she said. “Calum wishes to return to Scotland to present the babe to his father, who is the Constable of Scotland. Have you heard of him? His father is the Lord of Westmoreland.”

  She said it proudly and Vesper shook her head. “Alas, I have not heard of him, but that is a very prestigious association,” she said. “Was your husband born in Scotland, then?”

  From Vesper’s other side, Val spoke. He found he simply couldn’t keep out of a conversation with Vesper involved, not even when the subject didn’t directly concern him.

  “Calum was born in Scotland but he has spent most of his life in England,” he said. “He does not sound like a Scots, nor does his brother, Hugh. Calum, what has become of Hugh as of late? He used to visit us quite often because we are on the road between Winchester Castle and London, but now we never see him.”

  The women were pushed out of the conversation completely as Calum replied. “He has been with Henry in Winchester as far as I know,” he said. “But my father has also been ill so it is possible he has returned to Scotland. I am not for certain.”

  Val’s gaze lingered on his friend. “I told you that you could return to Scotland, too, to see to your father.”

  Calum shook his head, looking at his wife. “I do not want to take the chance that I will not return before my son is born.”

  Val understood his point of view, but his thoughts inevitably turned to Scotland. “I would like to return to Scotland someday,” he said. “I always thought I would like to live in the north. It is such a wild place but it is also a place of such beauty. Have you ever been north, Lady Vesper?”

  Vesper shook her head as the conversation swung back to her. “Never,” she replied. “But I have heard it is quite lovely.”

  “Then mayhap you should ask your husband to take you there for your wedding trip.” Mayne suddenly entered the conversation from across the table. He’d been staring at Vesper through the entire conversation with something more than polite interest. “I must agree with Celesse. I cannot believe that you are not married or at least betrothed. What fool has allowed you to get away from him?”

  Vesper had never been around so much flattery in her life. She was certain her cheeks would be a permanent shade of pink after this. But before she could answer, Val stepped in.

  “That is a rather impertinent question, don’t you think?” he asked Mayne, frowning. “You will apologize for being rude.”

  There was a flicker of jealousy in Val’s eyes, which surprised Mayne. Still, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Lady Vesper was quite lovely, something that wouldn’t have gone overlooked by Val. He had an eye for pretty women. Opening his mouth to plead the lady’s forgiveness, Mayne was interrupted when Vesper lifted a hand to him.

  “Apologies are not necessary, truly,” she said to both Val and Mayne. “Lady Celesse also suggested disbelief that I am not betrothed. I suppose it is true that, at my age, I should be, but it does not distress me that I am not. I have had a very good life at Eynsford Castle as a confidant of Lady Eynsford. My life is very full with my duties and I have not felt wanting in any fashion, truly.”

  Val and Mayne were both looking at her, both of them thinking nearly the same thoughts – a beautiful, accomplished woman who was not already spoken for was a prize, indeed. Val knew simply by looking at Mayne what the man’s thoughts were because he had the expression of a hunter about him.

  But Val wasn’t about to let Vesper fall prey to the man. He is interested in her, Val thought. He was grossly offended by it.

  “I would be very interested to hear of your duties at Eynsford,” Val said, leading into a much more pleasant line of conversation instead of her lack of a betrothal. “Do you hope to return someday?”

  Vesper nodded. “I would like to,” she said. “Lady Eynsford would like for me to continue attending her. I have been her ward for so long but she would like for me to be one of her ladies, which would be a tremendous honor. It is through her that I have learned so many things, but I am particularly fond of sewing and music. Whenever Lady Eynsford requires something new to wear, she always has me produce it for her.”

  She seemed very proud and Val was impressed. “That is an exacting skill,” he said. “You must be excellent.”

  “I do like to sew and create garments.”

  “And the music?”

  “I have learned to sing and accompany myself on a clavichordium,” she said. “Lady Eynsford had one brought all the way from Italy and, although she did not know how to play it, I was quite fascinated by it. She gave me permission to play it and, soon enough, I learned how to. Lady Eynsford was very pleased.”

  Val’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before leaping to his feet and taking her by the wrist.

  “Come with me,” he said quietly.

  Vesper had no choice but to follow as he practi
cally yanked her from the table. Val ignored his mother calling after him as they disappeared into the rear of the great hall where there was a wooden staircase that led to the minstrel’s gallery above. In truth, Vesper hadn’t even noticed the minstrel’s gallery, a loft on the north side of the vast hall, until Val had pulled her up the staircase. Even then, the gallery seemed to be more for storage than anything else.

  There were old trunks, an old wardrobe, and other things, neatly arranged but quite obviously forgotten up in the darkened gallery. Val led her to the balcony where the gallery overlooked the hall, coming to a halt in front of something that was covered up with a great length of canvas made from hemp. It was dusty from not having been disturbed in quite some time and Val had Vesper stand back as he yanked the canvas away.

  Dust flew up in the air but beneath the fabric sat a small clavichordium. It was quite small, built as a boxy wooden cabinet on four spindly legs that, at one time, had been highly polished. Now, it was lonely and forgotten. On the plate above the ivory keys were the words Aurelius Cato Anno MCXXXIX etched into the plate, perhaps once painted with gold paint. It was difficult to tell because time had faded away some of the gold, but in all, it was a magnificent piece. Vesper was enchanted.

  “It is beautiful,” she said softly as she bent over to inspect the old keys. “Is it yours?”

  Val watched her as she studied the old instrument. “Nay,” he said. “It was my father’s. He, too, was musical and had a talent for instruments, but this has sat here unused since his death. Mayhap, you would be kind enough to play it for us. I am sure my mother would like to hear the sounds again.”

  Vesper looked at him, smiling timidly. “If you do not believe she would mind.”

  Val shook his head. “She would love to hear you play it,” he said, suddenly looking around as if he was missing something. “There is a stool that goes with it but I do not… ah, here it is.”

  He yanked a small three-legged stool out from beneath a stored table, setting the stool in front of the instrument and indicating for her to sit.