‘What of it? It was our duty and not of any consequence.’
Except for the lasting memories of the young girl, of course...
Will had often thought of the frightened little girl with unusual eyes whom he had once helped rescue when he was still a young lad himself. He had wondered from time to time since that fateful day what had happened to the girl. He remembered her looking so desolate, so hopelessly alone and so reluctant to stay in that cold, foreboding place. He’d felt sorry for her and hoped the intervening years had treated her kindly.
Although the incident had been harrowing, Will had been commended and rewarded by Sir Percy for his perceptive quick thinking in the situation. It had led to a time when life seemed like an endless adventure, full of possibilities.
Not like the shadowy, dark world he inhabited now.
Will dragged the leather cord out from under his tunic and absently wrapped his fingers around the silver and ruby pendant that dangled from his neck. A pendant the little girl had gifted him and which he had always worn since.
The other man’s eyes narrowed and he murmured something under his breath, no doubt recognising the jewel. Damn, that was short-sighted of Will, but he could hardly hide it now.
The man pressed his lips into a thin line before speaking again. ‘Neither of you ever knew the girl’s identity—not that I’m surprised. Her family were out of favour with King John and never came to court. With Sir Percival having only just returned from the Holy Land, my mistress has only now learnt of this girl’s existence, when she had been presumed dead all this time.’
‘And who are you and who is your mistress?’
‘Eustace Rolleston at your service, Sir William.’ He inclined his head. ‘And my mistress is Lady Adela de Clancey.’
‘So, Eustace Rolleston, let me comprehend this. You want to commission me to find a girl, who is, if she is still alive, a fully-grown woman?’ He smirked, shaking his head. ‘Apologies, but you have the wrong man for this.’
‘Oh, I have the right man. Sir Percy confirmed it as much but his memory is hazy now and he cannot remember anything about the incident other than your gallant rescue of the girl somewhere outside of La Rochelle.’
The fact that the old knight Will had once served had told this man the barest of information about the incident, however hazy his memory, sent darts of warning through him. Sir Percy was sending him a message of caution regarding the man sat opposite him.
Will narrowed his eyes. ‘No, I don’t believe you understand, stranger. I am hired for many reasons, but finding lost people is outside my remit, especially when I have no idea where they may be.’ He leaned forward. ‘And no amount of silver would tempt me to stray from that.’
That was not strictly true, but Will wanted to ascertain how far he could bargain, how large that chest of silver was...and how desperate this man’s cause.
‘I thought you might need a little convincing,’ Rolleston scoffed. ‘I carry with me a sealed document from the Lord Protector himself as well as a letter from Lady de Clancey regarding the particulars of this commission. As for the silver, I’m sure we can negotiate a sum that would satisfy even you. Besides... I know you can find her.’
Will ignored his last comment. This was not a situation he wanted to embroil himself in. ‘As I said to you, this is not the sort of work that I accept.’
Rolleston raised his brow. ‘Find the girl, bring her back and get a full pardon for what happened at Portchester, your honour restored. The silver you’ll be paid could help re-establish you and your family. Your sisters, your widowed mother. Even your young apprenticed brother. Find the girl and get your life back.’
A muscle leapt into Will’s jaw. God, but the man was insidious! He had certainly investigated Will’s past. Yet, interestingly, Rolleston had not been informed by William Marshal, the Lord Protector, that his honour had been restored, his pardon had been given. It had been at Will’s behest that it was not acknowledged publicly, of course—a mutual agreement that had suited them both—yet this man who claimed to be here in the name of the Lord Protector’s didn’t know. He had not been taken into Marshal’s confidence.
Another note of caution...
‘You want me to find a lost girl—a woman who could be married with children at her feet for all you know.’ He sipped ale from his cup. ‘Presumably you’d have me drag her away to hand her to you?’
There were endless other possibilities of what had happened to the girl and none of them were good.
‘Yes, Sir William. We are prepared to deal with any possible situations, if the lost girl is whom we believe her to be.’
‘And who is that, Rolleston?’
He watched Will for a moment before he answered. ‘The heiress of Castle de Clancey and its environs. Her father and her brothers have passed, God rest their souls.’ The man made a sign of the cross. ‘So, it’s imperative that the girl is found and brought home to her mother. If the girl is whom we believe her to be, then she will rightfully take her place beside Lady de Clancey. And at this difficult time, Lady de Clancey is greatly helped and supported by Geoffrey Fitzwalter—her cousin by marriage.’
Will waited a moment, tapping a tattoo with his fingers on the wooden table, watching the other man. ‘You didn’t answer me, Rolleston. Who is the girl?’
‘Didn’t I say...? She’s the lost heiress—Lady Isabel de Clancey.’ Rolleston nodded at the pendant dangling around Will’s neck. ‘And that is an important family heirloom. She probably meant for you to take it back to them and it’s high time you did, Sir William.’
Chapter Two
Sometimes, just sometimes, Isabel could happily throttle Heloise! It was one the biggest and most important feast days of the church year with much to do in the village of St Jean de Cole and yet her sister had spent the whole day preening herself for the evening festivities instead. Leaving everything, as always, for Isabel to do. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she settled the big basket of her mother’s warm bread rolls and sweet honeyed breads on the ground and took a deep breath.
Isabel absently crossed herself and pushed such thoughts out of her head. They were inappropriate, especially on a holy day, but really...sometimes Heloise’s behaviour was intolerable.
The truth was that there was still so much to do and she could do with another pair of hands to help, but it was useless to think that they could belong to her sister.
Ever since they had been little girls and plucked from a local convent by her new family, the Meuniers, their roles had been clearly defined. Isabel was the one who was sensible, assiduous and conscientious, whereas Heloise was...well, she had been a beautiful little girl then and was an acclaimed local beauty now. She was indulged and indolent, but exceptionally beautiful with it.
The girls had been adopted into the family to help Madame Meunier, as her eyesight had been getting progressively worse and she needed help with tasks around the mill. They had only the need for one girl, but Heloise had kicked up such a fuss that the couple had acquiesced and taken Isabel as well, which she was thankful for.
She loved her life at St Jean de Cole. Every little thing about it.
Except this. Except today.
Isabel strolled across the small humpback bridge over the River Cole that separated the mill from the main part of the pretty village tucked away in the north of Aquitaine, exchanging greetings with a few of the villagers she passed.
‘Good afternoon, Blanche, how do you fare?’
‘Much better. Your salve was wonderful, very soothing.’ She leaned forward. ‘And it worked. My skin no longer feels itchy!’
‘I’m so glad. That would be the calendula, chamomile and mint to help soothe the skin.’ Isabel noticed the woman’s awkwardness. ‘But, of course, we did say prayers as well, so I’m sure that helped, too.’ This was added quickly, with an understanding of the piety a
nd superstition that most people held on to.
‘Well, be sure to pass on my thanks to Sibylla, my dear.’
‘I shall and I hope to see you at the feast later.’
Sibylla, the local wise woman who was instructing Isabel on the healing properties of plants and herbs, would be thrilled to know that her protégée’s salve had worked. Apart from the back-breaking work Isabel did at the mill, mixing salves and ointments was what she truly loved.
And to heal people.
Isabel wondered, as she sometimes did, what her life would have been had she arrived safely on that fateful journey she took when she was just a little girl. But her new life in St Jean de Cole was nothing short of an unexpected blessing.
Her life was simple and uncomplicated compared to what it could have been. And even though she had to work hard, it was a blessing that she could enjoy the relative freedom she had. But it was more than that...
She felt safe here.
Initially, Isabel had hoped and prayed that her father would eventually come for her at the convent of Abbaye aux Dames all those years ago. He had promised to do so if something had gone awry on the journey, as it eventually had. He had said that he would come, find her and take her home, but he never had. She had been abandoned, her prayers never answered.
And while her father hadn’t come for her, neither had the people who still plagued her dreams after all these years. People who had wanted her dead, and possibly still would, if they knew she was alive.
Ah, but it didn’t matter now. Life was good in St Jean de Cole, where she did indeed feel safe and confident no one would find or hurt her again. She had made sure of that. Even going to the trouble of concealing her given name from everyone she met, including her adopted family.
She lifted her head and smiled when she saw a tall, handsome young man hobbling towards her. ‘Good day to you, Ralph.’
‘Well met, Adela.’ He grinned as he came up to her. ‘Can I help carry your basket into the village square?’
Isabel shook her head slowly and returned his smile, knowing as always that it was for her own protection that she had used her mother’s name instead of her own...even after all this time.
‘Goodness, no. What would Sibylla say if she knew that, after all our hard work, you’d now overexerted yourself on this particular day?’
A spark of annoyance crossed his one good eye, the other still bandaged. ‘I’m getting stronger and, while I am for ever in your debt for your ministrations and your care, I’m not an invalid.’
Isabel pulled his sleeve gently. ‘You know that I’m only teasing you.’
Ralph rubbed his brow and sighed. ‘Forgive me, that was uncalled for, especially after everything you have done for me, but sometimes, ah, but sometimes... I’m frustrated at how slowly everything is progressing. My damned inadequacy.’
Isabel thought back to early spring, when a few locals had found the lone injured man, unconscious in the forest. It hadn’t been easy, but together with Sibylla’s knowledge and Isabel’s care, perseverance and dogged determination, they had patiently nursed him back to health. Having suffered such a severe head injury, his memory had been patchy, only retaining scant details, such as his name and knowing that a faded purple ribbon, which he had in his possession, was of great importance to him. His face, too, had been badly scarred on one side by some weaponry or another.
‘Time, Ralph, and patience are what is needed. I’m hopeful that all will be well for you soon.’
‘I like your optimism.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘And I thank you for it, Adela. You’ve been a good friend to me. I hope to see you at the feast later.’ He nodded his farewell and walked on, leaving Isabel speechless. She dropped the basket on the ground, her finger tips grazing her cheek.
The truth was that Isabel had revelled in the challenge and difficulty in helping heal Ralph’s injuries. Her natural obstinacy wouldn’t allow him to fade away as he very nearly had.
He had to live.
He had to be saved.
Just as a young boy with friendly blue eyes had once saved her... A young boy whom she had always given thanks for at prayers, even after all these years. Isabel hoped, as she always did, that the pendant she had gifted him had brought him some measure of protection and that he had made a success of his life.
Isabel had been glad that she in turn had been able to help save another, just like her blue-eyed saviour. Well, not save exactly, but certainly help in his recovery.
She touched her cheek again and sighed.
Now, if she could get her many errands done expediently and get ready in time, she would get to enjoy the feast. This was possibly shaping up to be a good day after all...
* * *
And, possibly, it was not!
Isabel’s assistance had been much in demand, from helping set up in the market square to cleaning the church before Vespers. Now, after getting ready in haste, hoping she looked presentable, she was finally heading towards the market square, long after her family had gone. Oh, for goodness sake, if she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the whole thing!
She rushed down the narrow, cobbled street, greeting and smiling at passers-by, holding on to the floral headdress and sheer veil attached loosely to her head, hoping not to lose all of the flowers she had haphazardly woven through her hair.
Isabel finally emerged out of the shadows into the big expanse of the village square. Ah, but it looked beautiful with the sun setting beneath the hillside, casting a warm amber glow over their festivities. Sky-blue shutters opened invitingly, with vibrant coloured geraniums peppered across the windowsills and creepers with small white flowers trailed up the stone walls of the buildings enclosing the open space.
To one side was the covered market space, which had been temporarily transformed with a long line of trestle tables groaning with the bountiful harvest of late summer. The outside stone columns holding up the large roof were festooned with garlands of bright summer blooms draped from the top to the other side of the square, creating a sublime, colourful canopy of flowers.
It seemed her efforts had been worth it after all. The whole village was there, laughing, chatting, eating and enjoying the merriment. Soon there would be music and even a little dancing. Perhaps the estampie dance that was gaining in popularity and hadn’t—thankfully—been frowned upon by the church.
Isabel smiled as she caught a glimpse of Ralph sitting with Heloise and her many other admirers. She sighed and bit her lip. Really, though, it was hardly Heloise’s fault that she attracted the attention she did.
Ralph caught her gaze, and returned her smile as he got up to limp towards her.
‘Well, it seems you have finally arrived,’ he said as he reached her side.
‘It seems I finally have,’ she chuckled. ‘Although you make it sound as though I chose to be this late.’
‘Adela, I’m fully aware of your contribution to this feast, unlike some who merely just attend.’
‘Ah, but some of us live to work while others are born to...to...’
‘Be idle?’ he concluded, raising his brow. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re finally here.’
‘Me, too.’
Isabel scanned the area, taking in the happy convivial mood, when something—or rather someone—caught her interest. It was not just that the man who stood in the shadows in the corner of the square was a stranger. No, it was also the way the man was staring at her sister. Where had he come from and what did he want here in St Jean de Cole?
‘Ralph, do you know who that man is over there?’
He turned around and narrowed his eyes. ‘No idea. He’s probably a reveller who has heard how good the feasts are here. Come, let’s go and sit with Heloise and the others.’
‘You go on. I’ll be there in a moment.’
Isabel moved towards the covered area, grabbing a juicy red
apple on the way, but all the while keeping a close eye on the stranger. There was something about him that was oddly familiar, yet she knew she had never laid eyes on him before. She watched with curiosity as the old bald man he was speaking to presented him to her parents. Her interest getting the better of her, Isabel meandered close, but remained inconspicuous, wondering what on earth the handsome yet exceptionally sullen man wanted.
Whatever had been said must have been of some significance as her parents looked somewhat anxious. Even more astonishing, Heloise had been hastily fetched to their side.
How strange that Isabel had not been called to join with their discussion, but then, whatever it was might not actually concern her. The stranger spoke to Heloise, who lifted her fingers to her lips in shock, but seemed delighted at whatever had been said.
Ah...another suitor. That explained everything.
Isabel smiled, shaking her head at her silly worries, and was about to move away when she noticed something that almost made her stumble and fall.
The stranger was still in discussion with Heloise and her family and had pulled out a leather cord from under his clothing. A leather cord that had a diamond lozenge-shaped silver and ruby pendant dangling at the end of it.
She recognised it immediately.
It was the same pendant that she had given to the young boy who had saved her life twelve years ago. The same pendant that she had a duplicate of, but never wore in St Jean de Cole for fear of exposure. It was her family’s heirloom, which meant, of course, that the stranger, the man who was at that moment talking to her family, might possibly be William Geraint. Unless, of course, he was an enemy? Someone who had taken the pendant from William?
No, it had to be him...no one else knew she was still alive nor that she could possibly live here.
She had to be cautious...
It could be that her father had finally wanted her back or that he was intent on sending Isabel to her betrothed again, as he had planned all those years ago.
Her Banished Knight's Redemption--The follow-up to award-winning story the Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 2
