Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The merchant avenue was situated on a rise overlooking the sea, about a quarter of a mile from the actual port. This kept it away from the unpredictable seas. As Dennis and Ryan’s party entered the avenue, it was already jammed with people inspecting the latest cargo brought in from all points east. Somewhere, someone was playing a flute; she could hear it. It seemed to add refinement to the chaos. Dennis dismounted his charger at the end of the avenue, and lifted his wife from her palfrey, as Clive also dismounted his steed and politely helped Lyla from her mount.

  “What would you look at first, my lady?” Dennis asked Ryan.

  At the moment, she was poisoned by selection. She wasn’t particularly well-traveled, having lived and stayed in Cornwall her entire life, so this was new and exciting. She simply grinned at him before heading into the nearest merchant’s stall.

  Goods were piled in a disorganized fashion about the stall as Ryan and Lyla wandered in. Materials and fabrics of all kinds were thrown in piles over to her right, and over to her left were trinkets and small pieces of furniture, like stools and woven seat chairs. There were even pillows made from material she had never seen before. Directly ahead of her was a table, leaning, that contained valuable pieces of jewelry. That was what drew her interest; Ryan went right to the table and began inspecting the lovely pieces.

  Gold and silver glittered back at her; there were necklaces with pale green stones, silver necklaces with blue stones, earbobs made from pearls, and rings of all kinds. As she stood there and gawked at the treasures, she felt someone brush up behind her. Glancing back, she saw that it was Dennis.

  He, too, was looking at the display. Ryan’s attention returned to the table, especially at a lovely ring of braided gold with a deep green stone in it. She picked it up to get a better look at it.

  “It seems that there is a great amount of valuable jewelry in this place,” she observed. “If I were a merchant, I would not have it sitting out so.”

  Dennis glanced around the shop, especially into the area behind the table where the merchant was speaking with a big, swarthy-looking man. He also noticed a man standing back in the shadows near the piles of fabric. Aware of his surroundings, as any good knight would be, he returned his attention to the jewelry.

  “I would not worry about it,” he told her. “He has enough protection around. Do you like this ring?”

  She nodded as she set it back on the table. “I do,” she said as she picked up another of silver and garnet. “All of his adornments are quite lovely.”

  As she put the ring on her finger and admired it, Dennis reached over her shoulder and plucked a dark gold and green-stoned ring off the table. It was beautiful, and well-made, with ropes of gold intertwining about in an elaborate pattern. He held it out to Ryan.

  “Do you like this one?” he asked.

  She looked between the silver and garnet on her finger and the one in his hand. “I like it,” she said.

  “Better than the silver ring?”

  She nodded and pulled the silver ring off. “I do. I like the green stone.”

  Dennis took her left hand and slid the ring down on her third finger. It fit perfectly. He inspected it a moment before emitting a short, shrill whistle between his teeth. Ryan started at the loud sound and the merchant looked up from his conversation, seeing the massive knight and the small lady near his jewelry table. Sending the swarthy man away, he went to greet them.

  Before all was said and done, Dennis had purchased a great many things for Ryan from the crowded shop. In addition to the lovely band of gold, he bought her a great and heavy coverlet for their bed that had been woven in the magic lands of Persia, a satin pillow with mysterious embroidery on it simply because she liked it, and four bolts of material. Three were for Ryan and one was for Lyla, although Ryan told him they were all for her so he would not become incensed over purchasing something for her cousin. He already seemed to disapprove of her and Ryan didn’t want to aggravate the situation.

  In fact, Lyla had been inordinately quiet the entire trip, but Ryan attributed it to her fear of the new situation. Lyla also seemed particularly fearful of Dennis; in fact, as the goods were brought out and loaded onto the horses, Lyla stood behind Ryan as if cowering from Dennis. Ryan kept glancing at her cousin, questioningly at times, but she found that Dennis had most of her attention.

  He was such a big man, with such big hands. She rather liked that about him. Rather than be standoffish and let his men do the work of loading, he was with them, heaving items onto the saddles and making sure all was secured. He wasn’t afraid of hard work; that was clear. His straight blond hair fell down over one eye most of the time and during times he would glance over at her, she could only see one eye. It was very charming. She also noticed something else; his worn leather breeches were very snug. She could see every curve of his buttocks and thighs when he would move, with his muscles rippling through the leather; and she wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t think he had a very nice backside. Very nice.

  Embarrassed, she looked away, inspecting the avenue and the people around it. She was trying to keep her mind off of Dennis’ buttocks. She found a female dog with a litter of small puppies crossing the avenue, which took her mind off of her husband, when they were all startled by the sounds of thunder. Horses and riders were approaching, and approaching fast. Reflexively, Ryan grabbed hold of Lyla and pulled the woman out of the street as several big horses sharply turned the corner and came barreling down on them.

  Hooves flew and dirty mud sprayed, hitting both Ryan and Lyla. Dennis quickly put himself between his wife and the offending horses and riders, going so far as to shove one of the big chargers back when it came too close.

  “What are you doing?” Charlotte said, flipping up her visor. She jabbed a finger at the bundle of goods on the rear of Dennis’ charger. “What is that?”

  Dennis slugged her charger in the soft nose when the thing snapped at him. “What does it look like I am doing?” he responded irritably. The horse snapped at him again and he belted it across the head with his armored forearm. “This horse should be muzzled. Why would you bring a beast like this into town? It snaps at anything that moves.”

  Charlotte cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Then it keeps the rabble out of my way,” she said, looking at Ryan and Lyla. “Don’t tell me that you are purchasing all of this for her.”

  Dennis sighed heavily. “You do not even know what it is.”

  Charlotte snorted rudely. “We do not have the coinage for frivolous things,” she pointed out. “What did she force you to buy? Diamonds? Pretty things? Things that only a foolish woman would want?”

  Dennis turned away from her. “What I do with money that belongs to me is none of your affair,” he said. “Go home.”

  As Dennis moved to Ryan and began to turn her for her palfrey, Charlotte leaned forward on her saddle. Her manner, her expression, was deliberate. “Maybe you should buy her another goat.”

  Dennis froze, but Ryan didn’t; having no idea what Charlotte was speaking of. She glanced at Dennis. “You need more than one goat kicking you?” she asked with a grin.

  Dennis ignored Ryan’s comment and turned to his sister. “Another word and I run you through,” he said, jaw flexing dangerously. “Is this in any way unclear?”

  It was the second time that day Charlotte had heard a hazardous tone from her brother directed at her. She felt safe and confident astride her charger, positive she could make a fast retreat should she need to. She could see that either Ryan didn’t know about the goat yet or if she did, it was a very sensitive subject. It was the only way to explain Dennis’ reaction and she seized the moment. She was, if nothing else, bold and foolish. Her brother was already soft on his new wife, an enemy wife, and she would do all she could to disrupt him.

  “Did you thank her for the feast?” she said even as she reined her horse back, turning the beast around. “I can smell the goat stew even now. Another victory over Launceston!”

  This time, De
nnis flinched in her direction but she had been smart enough to spur her horse back the way she had come. Beside him, Ryan grabbed his arm.

  “What did she mean by that?” she demanded. By the time he turned to look at her, he could see that her face was already growing pale and her eyes were widening in fear. “Where is my goat?”

  Dennis grasped her arms gently, cursing his sister under his breath. “I gave your goat over to Riston yesterday, as you saw,” he said, keeping his manner as calm and soothing as he could because he could see that she was verging on hysteria already. “Riston tied the goat up in the kitchen yard in an attempt to keep it safe and corralled. The cook, however, thought it was for eating because it was with the other livestock. I am afraid there has been a very tragic mistake with the goat, Ryan. I only found out about it this morning.”

  Ryan stared at him. Her breathing was coming in panicked little gasps as the realization of his words sank deep.

  “Bute… he is dead?” she gasped.

  He nodded, his big hands caressing her arms in an attempt to keep her calm. He left out the part about Charlotte killing it, knowing it would only inflame her. It would truly serve no purpose at this point to tell her.

  “The cook did not know he was your pet,” he said softly. “Ryan, I cannot apologize enough for the mistake. I know you raised him since he was very small.”

  Ryan’s breathing grew harder. She began to tremble uncontrollably and the tears began to fall fast and furious.

  “I…!” she breathed. Then, she shrieked and began to rub her fingers over her lips. “The stew! It was goat stew!”

  Dennis was feeling as bad as he possibly could. “Aye, love,” he murmured. “It was.”

  “Bute stew!”

  “Aye.”

  Ryan yanked her arms from his grip, her gaze upon him wild. “And you thought not to tell me?” she cried. “How could you not tell me?”

  He sighed heavily. “How was I to?” he asked, sounding pained and uncertain. “Did you want me to tell you then and there what I had discovered? It was not the time to do it. I was waiting for the proper moment to…”

  She cut him off by vomiting violently, expelling the contents of her stomach out over the mud, his feet, and her feet. All of the lovely mutton and apple oggie and the whortleberry pie ended up mixed with the filth of the street. The mere thought of tasting her beloved pet had her stomach heaving.

  When Dennis tried to help her, steady her, she pulled away from him so violently that she ended up tripping and falling back against the merchant’s stall behind her. As she fell, she clipped a table and an entire section of wares came down, crashing into the street, knocking into Dennis and Lyla. As Dennis grabbed his charger to keep the startled horse from bolting, Ryan took off at a run.

  She didn’t even know where she was going; all she knew was that she had to get away from him. Her beloved pet was dead. Another victory over Launceston! She could hear that horrible woman’s voice ringing about in her ears. Dennis who had been too cowardly to tell her that her goat had been killed. Dear God, what kind of terrible place had she come to? All of this was his fault. Had he not come to Launceston in the first place, had he not proposed this battle-driven marriage, none of this would have happened.

  She could hear Dennis calling for her, and there was turmoil behind her as he pursued. People were yelling and things were crashing. It only made her run faster, coming to the end of the street and bolting down a small alleyway that led towards the sea. She ended up sliding in the mud as she squeezed between two stone houses and emerged on the other side.

  It was a panicked flight, one of horror and pain and sorrow. She wasn’t thinking clearly. All she could see in her mind’s eye was her soft white goat who was now an ingredient in a stew. She wondered if his death had been painful. She wondered if he had been looking for her, wondering where his errant mistress was, before the cook’s axe had fallen.

  The tears that had started moments before now fell harder. The turmoil of the past few days had been too much to take, now compounded with Bute’s death. The houses around her seemed to grow denser as they neared the port and she took a few blind turns, losing herself deeper and deeper in the maze of structures. Dennis’ shouts grew fainter. Perhaps she could indeed lose him, down in this cluster of homes by the sea. What a fool she had been to think that this marriage was tolerable. It was hell.

  Once he was gone, she would run all the way back to Launceston.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  She found the woman sitting on the sea wall, watching the boats drift gently upon the evening waters.

  The woman was well-dressed, with long amber-colored hair and angelic features, but she had been weeping so much that her entire face was red and swollen, and she had dried vomit on her cloak. She looked completely forlorn and out of place in the darkness. As the soft sea breeze blew her hair about, the peasant woman clutching the basket woven from sea grass timidly approached.

  “My lady?” she asked hesitantly. “My lady, are you well?”

  Ryan heard the softly uttered words. She had been staring out into the bay, lost in thought, and it occurred to her that someone was speaking to her. She turned to see a small, dark-skinned woman gazing back at her. Wrapped in head to toe in a dark rough-woven shawl that swirled around her head, was a kind woman’s expression. Ryan debated on whether or not she wanted to answer her. She wasn’t in a speaking mood.

  “I am well,” she said, looking away. “Please leave me.”

  The woman hesitated. She looked at their surroundings, almost nervously. “My lady, it is not safe for you to be here,” she said, her manner with a hint of nervousness. “If you have somewhere to go, you must leave.”

  Ryan looked at her again; she had a strange accent in the softly uttered words, but she wasn’t inclined to take heed at the moment. “Please go away.”

  The woman took a step back but didn’t leave. “My lady, you must trust me when I say it is not safe here. Have you nowhere else to go?”

  Ryan opened her mouth to tell her to go away again but something stopped her. It was something in the woman’s expression, a genuine reflection of curiosity and concern. She had spent the past several hours wallowing in grief, confusion, and self-pity. As she was huddled on the sea wall, she could hear the shouts from town as Dennis searched for her, echoing faintly in the moist sea air.

  It had been hours of muddled bewilderment, but at this moment she was starting to think rather clearly at the woman’s soft warning. She took a moment to look about her surroundings.

  “I do,” she said after a moment, but there was defeat in her tone. She unfolded her legs and slithered off the wall. “Do you hear that commotion in the village?”

  The woman nodded her head. “It sounds like war, my lady.”

  Ryan shook her head, sad and weary. “It is my husband searching for me,” she said. “I ran from him.”

  The woman was very concerned. “Did he beat you, my lady?”

  Ryan was almost amused by the question. “If he had, it would have made it easier to escape him,” she said. “But I got as far as the wall and could go no further. I…”

  She suddenly stopped and looked at the woman. She probably shouldn’t have told her what she had; perhaps the woman was not trustworthy and now she had put herself in more danger. Perhaps the woman had those who would ransom her back to Dennis. Gathering her cloak, she wrapped it tightly around her and lowered her head. She started to flee but the woman stopped her.

  “My lady, please,” she said as she scooted over to her. “I will take you. If you do not know these streets, they can be dangerous.”

  Ryan somewhat recoiled from the woman as she came close. She didn’t trust her. “I can find my way.”

  The woman shook her head. “You must allow me to show you the safest way,” she said, although she sensed Ryan’s apprehension. “We must go this way.”

  She was indicating a small alleyway off to the left. The path of it seemed to be in direct li
ne with the bulk of the city up on the rise above the sea. It was very dark, as the moon was intermittently hidden behind scattered gray clouds, and the only warmth to been seen was the light coming from the small hovels lining the street.

  For the first time since her harried escape from Dennis, Ryan began to feel some fear of her surroundings. She looked at the woman next to her.

  “I do not know you,” she said. “What if you would lead me to harm? What if there are men up that street waiting to abduct me, or worse? Nay, I will not go with you. I will find my own way back.”

  She moved away from the woman, away from the direction the woman had indicated. Again, the woman stopped her.

  “Please, my lady,” she pleaded softly. “You must not go that way. It is not safe.”

  Ryan simply shook her head and turned away. This time, the woman rushed around her and blocked her path.

  “I realize you are uncertain,” the woman said. “My name is Patrizia. I live on the next avenue with my husband and my daughters. I would not bring you to harm, I swear it, but if you do not trust me, will you at least wait here while I send for your husband?”

  Ryan was still hesitant. She realized her distraught flight had led her into an unpredictable situation. Part of her wanted to take the woman up on her offer, but the other part wanted to run away very quickly. The woman didn’t seem like a cutthroat or criminal, but then again, looks could be deceiving. Still, she realized that she should probably listen, at least somewhat. She backed away from the woman and settled back against the seawall.

  “If you will send for him, then I will remain here,” she agreed. “His name is Dennis d’Vant. He is lord of St. Austell Castle.”