Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  With that, she turned away from him and went back to Patrizia and Lyla, who were discussing the sewing of a surcoat with a snug corset in the bodice. As the women were talking, Ryan looked over her shoulder at her husband to see that he was shaking his head at her in disapproval. She stuck her tongue out at him. As she turned away, she heard him snort.

  “Where is your husband today?” Ryan asked Patrizia. “I was hoping to meet him.”

  “He is fishing,” Patrizia said as she measure Lyla’s waist with her hands. “He will not be home until after the sun sets.”

  “I see,” Ryan said, glancing at the two dark-haired little girls over near the hearth. They were fiddling with something in a big iron pot. “Your daughters are lovely. How old are they?”

  Patrizia lifted her head and smiled over at her girls. “Monica has seen eleven years and Andrea has seen eight years,” she replied. “They sew quite well themselves. They will make excellent seamstresses someday.”

  “Did your mother sew?”

  “She did, my lady. I learned everything from her.”

  As Patrizia continued to fuss with Lyla, Ryan took a seat next to her, watching her work. The woman had sure hands and a good eye. She also seemed kind and genuine and, as Ryan had discovered upon their first meeting, she was helpful and brave. She was curious to know more about her.

  “When did you come to England, Patrizia?” she asked.

  Patrizia was focused on measuring Lyla. “I was Monica’s age,” she said. “My father had some enemies in our home country and sought safety for his family. In fact, even as we fled Spain, we were followed by those enemies and we were in great and mortal danger. I remember being very frightened at times. But once we came to England, we were able to safely settle. I am the oldest of five girls. We have all married Englishmen and have our own families now.”

  “And your mother and father?”

  “My mother is dead and I have not seen my father in years,” she said. Then, she looked up from Lyla, fixing Ryan with a serious gaze. “It is best that way.”

  It was a nice way of telling Ryan she didn’t wish to elaborate on her family, so Ryan didn’t pursue that subject. Feeling that perhaps the mood was dampened, she sought to lighten it.

  “I am sure you are a wonderful seamstress,” she said. “What else do you do?”

  Patrizia finished with Lyla and turned to Ryan, having her stand still while she measured her with her hands.

  “I cook,” Patrizia replied. “I do so like to cook. In fact, I have baked fresh cakes this morning. Would you try one?”

  Patrizia whispered to her girls, who began scrambling. They opened cabinets and brought forth small cakes on wooden platters for their guests to try. The smaller girl even went to Dennis and held up a cake to him, like an offering to an angry god. Dennis thought to refuse but the hopeful expression and big brown eyes changed his mind. He was swayed by the sweet young child. Ryan took a little cake, which was dusty with flour, and glanced over at her husband, who was already putting it in his mouth. She took a bite and was delighted. It was wonderful.

  “How do you make these?” she asked, mouth full.

  Patrizia grinned at her happy guests, all eating her delicious cakes. “Flour, eggs, butter, salt, mashed apples and honey.”

  “Not only can you sew, but you can cook,” Ryan said, enjoying the rest of her cake. “You are a very accomplished woman, Patrizia of Paignton. What can I do to convince you to come live with me at the castle and make me fattening treats?”

  Dennis stepped in. “If she makes you fattening treats, then you will not be able to fit into your new clothing and I will tell you now that I will not buy you more,” he said, brushing crumbs off his hands. He was pretending to be gruff but they all knew he was jesting. “Are you nearly finished, Ryan? We should return soon.”

  Ryan nodded, standing up from the chair and brushing off her hands as well. “Will you tell me now what it will cost to sew these garments so I will bring the money the next time when I come to pick them up?”

  Patrizia looked at the material thoughtfully, calculating in her head. She looked at Ryan, at Lyla, and then back to the fabric.

  “Each surcoat will cost you one groat,” she finally said. “Is that acceptable?”

  Ryan looked at Dennis, who gave her a brief nod. She turned back to Patrizia. “That is acceptable,” she said. “You will send word to me when they are finished?”

  “I will, my lady.”

  “Will you send me more cakes, too?”

  “I would be honored to.”

  Happy, Ryan smiled her thanks and turned to Dennis, just as the door to the hut flew open. Riston was in the opening, his young face serious as he sought out Dennis in the dim room.

  “We must return to the castle immediately,” he said. “Four cogs flying the skull and sword of Miguel have been sighted entering the harbor.”

  Dennis’s brow furrowed. “Miguel the Pirate?” he clarified. “Here?”

  “It would seem so,” Riston confirmed. “The entire town is in an uproar.”

  Dennis was still confused. “But he does not sail these waters in the winter,” he said. “He goes further south where it is warmer. Are you sure?”

  “I have not seen for myself, but that is the rumor.”

  Dennis reached out and grasped Ryan as she came close. His momentary confusion had turned to determination. If what Riston said was true, Dennis knew what they had to do.

  “Take Lyla in hand,” he told Riston. “We ride hard for the castle. We stop for nothing.”

  He whisked Ryan from the hut as Riston grabbed Lyla’s hand and pulled her from the room. Patrizia ran to the open door in time to see the chargers and palfreys taking off at an alarming pace, kicking up rocks and mud as they fled. All up and down the small avenue where she lived, people were fleeing for their lives.

  Patrizia slammed the door shut and bolted it, thinking on the horrific words she had just heard. Miguel the Pirate is here. Oh, God… that name, that name, that name!

  Fighting off tears, she prayed they were wrong.

  *

  Unfortunately, the rumors proved to be true.

  Miguel the Pirate sank his anchors deep into the sandy silt of St. Austell harbor, burning two ships and stealing their cargo as he and his men swept inland. It was sunset and the fires from the burning ships filled the air with black, heavy smoke. With the winds blowing in from the sea, the smoke was carried up to the castle.

  Everything was hazy and smoky inside the ward. Servants and soldiers had shut up the keep with great iron and wood shutters so the smoke was somewhat kept out of the structure. Ryan and Lyla moved about the keep fairly freely, without the usual guard, making sure water barrels were filled up and stores were secured in case they were in for a siege. According to Dennis, it was possible that Miguel had simply come to harass the city and nothing more, but nonetheless the castle was buttoned up snuggly. Nothing went in, and nothing went out.

  Until Miguel started burning the town. Villagers began to run for the castle, pleading for protection. As the sun sank low in the western sky, Dennis put one hundred men on the half-repaired northern curtain wall because it was only rebuilt to a height of twelve feet, while the rest of the wall was an astonishing twenty-two feet high in some places. Already, panicked villagers were attempting to boost the children over the twelve-foot-high section. The St. Austell soldiers would be there to keep them out but eventually there were too many children coming over the wall and a few of them actually fell down over the side. No one was seriously hurt, but after that, Dennis ordered the gates opened and frightened people began pouring through the breach.

  The outer bailey soon began to fill up, but Dennis knew that if Miguel was bold enough to attack the castle, it would prove deadly for the peasants boxed in against the onslaught with nowhere to run for protection. He therefore had the soldiers open the inner gates, the ones that led to the inner bailey, the kitchens, and the keep, and had ordered that the villa
gers be herded into that area. It filled up quickly.

  Ryan could see the villagers from the windows of the keep, hearing the crying children and praying women. There were soldiers inside the keep, however, meant for her protection, but they only responded to Dennis’ orders and wouldn’t open up the keep when she demanded it. Ryan was determined to make her rounds in the inner bailey, assuring the people that all would be well. As mistress of the castle, she felt it her duty, but no one would let her out of the bloody keep. At least, that’s what she ended up shouting about to a soldier down in the ward. She sent that particular soldier for her husband.

  The sun continued to set and more villagers poured into the castle as Miguel continued to burn. His men were moving towards the castle but they seemed more intent at the moment to completely savage the town. Heavy smoke billowed up into the dusky sky, mingling with the clouds overhead. It created a blanket of smoke over the town as night fell, cloying and thick.

  Ryan and Lyla could see it all from the keep. Everything was set, barrels filled with water and stores organized and secured. There was truly nothing left to do at the moment but wait. From Ryan’s chamber, they couldn’t see much except the north side of the castle grounds and some of the east side, but they saw enough to know that things were growing worse.

  The villagers below were trying to settle in for the night, frightened and cold, and Ryan was growing increasingly frustrated because she wasn’t allowed to go down and ease them. Abruptly leaving her perch by the window, she left the chamber with Lyla trailing after her, determined to see what was keeping Dennis. Just as she hit the great hall below, the soldiers inside the keep were throwing the massive bolt and opening the great wooden and iron panel.

  Dennis appeared in the doorway, clad from head to toe in heavy battle armor. But he had people with him and as Ryan approached, she could see Dennis ushering Patrizia and her daughters into the entry. Ryan and Lyla ran towards them.

  “Patrizia!” she gasped. “Are you well?”

  Patrizia was shaken and her girls were crying. “We are well,” she said, her voice quivering. “Our home was burned and your fabric with it. I am so sorry, my lady.”

  Ryan shook her head. “It is of no matter,” she assured her. “As long as you are well, that is the only thing of importance.”

  As Patrizia nodded wearily, Dennis spoke softly. “I found her in the bailey with the rest of the villagers,” he said. “She has nothing but the clothing on her back. I thought mayhap you would want to make her comfortable in the keep.”

  “Of course,” Ryan insisted as she grasped Patrizia by the arm. “Please go with Lyla now; she will show you where you can rest. Have you eaten?”

  Patrizia shook her head. “We have not, my lady.”

  “Then I will send food up to you.”

  Patrizia thanked her deeply and took her weepy girls by the hand as they followed Lyla up the stairs. Ryan watched them go, saddened for their fear. When they disappeared from view, she turned to her husband. Her expression softened as she drew close to him.

  “And you?” she asked softly, reaching up to touch his bearded cheek. “Are you well?”

  He kissed her hand gently. “I am well,” he murmured. “A soldier told me that my angry wife was demanding my company.”

  She grinned, watching him snort as he kissed her hand again. “There are so many people in the bailey outside,” she said. “I wanted to go and see to their comfort, with your permission.”

  He shook his head. “Once you open the keep, they will all want to come inside and you will be overrun,” he said. “Your desire is noble but not in our best interests. You and Lyla will remain here and keep this place locked tight.”

  Her smile faded but she didn’t argue with him; he seemed to know what he was talking about. “We have seen the smoke,” she said. “Miguel is destroying the town?”

  Dennis sighed. “It seems that way,” he said. “He has brought a good many men with him. I was not aware he had so many men.”

  “How many?”

  “Easily hundreds.”

  “Will he lay siege?”

  “It is possible but unlikely.”

  Ryan thought on that a moment. “Nevertheless, you must send word to Launceston,” she said. “My father will send help.”

  Dennis sighed heavily, putting his arms around her but trying not to jab her with his armor.

  “I do not believe that will be necessary,” he said. “Miguel is a pirate. His strength lies in breaching vessels, not castles. In fact, I have never heard of him attacking a castle, so at this point I suspect he is simply intent on raiding the town. He does not possess the means or the tactical skill to breach a castle.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “If his past history holds true, then I am reasonably sure.”

  She had to be satisfied with his answer since she didn’t know much about the pirate or his tactics, other than what she had heard. She’d never actually seen his handiwork firsthand. Putting her hands behind Dennis’ neck, she pulled him down for a gentle kiss.

  “Please take great care of yourself,” she said. “I should like to have you whole and sound when this is over.”

  Dennis kissed her tenderly, lingering on the feel and taste of her. “I shall endeavor to do my best, madam,” he murmured. “You will take care as well.”

  “I will,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against his.

  He kissed her one final time before pulling away. “Now, keep this door locked,” he said, moving for the keep entry and pointing at the panel. “You will not open it for anyone but me, Charlotte, Riston, or Clive. Is that clear?”

  Ryan nodded sincerely. Then, she threw up a hand. “Wait!” she gasped, gathering her skirts and running for the stairs that led to the chambers above. “I will return shortly!”

  Dennis called after her. “Ryan? Where are you going?”

  Her reply was muffled. He could hear her banging around upstairs, looking curiously at the soldiers who were guarding the front door. They shrugged, he shrugged, and they all waited until Ryan came flying back down the stairs. She had something in her hands and thrust it at her husband.

  “Take this to Charlotte,” she said.

  He looked at the package in his hands; it was something wrapped up in rough-woven fabric and he looked up at Ryan rather incredulously.

  “Give her this?” he asked. “What is it?”

  Ryan gave him a knowing grin. “Tell her it is a Roman tradition. She will understand.”

  He looked at her as if she was mad. “Ryan, what is this?”

  She patted his hands and kissed his cheek. “Please do it,” she asked softly. “Luck to you, my sweet.”

  He was still perplexed but dutifully quit the keep, listening to the soldiers bolt the door behind him as he carried the package down the steps and into the inner bailey. He wondered if there was a snake or poison wrapped up in the package, meant to do his sister harm, and he even poked around the fabric to see if he could feel something dangerous. He felt nothing. Now, he was curious more than anything. What on earth could Ryan be giving Charlotte?

  He found his sister in the outer bailey, directing some frightened peasants into safety. He walked up to her and extended the package.

  “This is from my wife,” he said. “She told me to tell you that it is a Roman tradition.”

  Charlotte looked at him, surprised. Surprise turned to puzzlement and puzzlement to curiosity as her gaze moved to the package in his hand. It took her a moment to actually reach out for it and even then, her movement was very hesitant. Once she took it from Dennis’ hand, he put his fists on his hips and watched her open it with a nearly critical eye.

  “What on earth did she give you?” he demanded.

  Charlotte could only shake her head as she opened the ties and the wrapping fell away. Immediately, she could see the red fabric beneath and when she unfolded it and held it up, she realized it was the red shawl they had seen in the merchant’s shop earlier in th
e day. It was soft and beautiful, and it was the first feminine gift Charlotte had ever received. A twinkle of delight came to her gray eyes.

  “A shawl?” Dennis said when he realized what it was. “It is lovely but… a shawl?”

  Charlotte was trying very hard not to smile. She wasn’t sure that she wanted her brother to see that the gift pleased her.

  “Aye, a shawl,” she nearly snapped, quickly bundling the shawl back up. “Are you not aware that Roman troops used to wear red capes into battle because they believed the color brought them fortune?”

  Dennis looked at her strangely. “Who told you that?”

  Charlotte wouldn’t answer him. She was already walking away from him, her red shawl balled up underneath her arm. The next time he saw her later that eve, the red shawl was wrapped around her neck like a scarf, waving in the smoky sea breeze. It would have made her more of a target had there been any enemy archers, but Dennis didn’t sincerely believe they would face any from the pirate who just seemed to want to harass the town and nothing more. Besides, he actually caught Charlotte smiling before she realized he was watching her and she quickly turned away.

  He’d never seen her smile like that before. He suspected the red shawl might have something to do with it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In spite of Dennis’ assertion that Miguel was only apt to raid the town, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Miguel did indeed intend to lay siege to the castle and he did it under the cover of night. He’d looted most of the town, burned a good portion of it, and by the time he reached the castle, his men were bloodthirsty and hungry for battle. He was well-supplied with archers and they brought ladders that he had, up through the streets of the narrow town. All of this went unseen by those at St. Austell, until Miguel’s men began to make their way up the slope to the castle on the crest. After that, it was chaos.

  Since they had no siege engines, Miguel’s archers began to fire flaming arrows over the walls, igniting several outbuildings as Dennis’ men struggled to contain the fires. Of course, the breach in the northern wall was the point of most concern as the pirate’s men began to post ladders in earnest, trying to get through the opening. Dennis was there to greet them.