Her Honorable Mercenary--A dramatic Medieval romance

by Nicole Locke

There were voices outside.

  Margery’s eyes widened.

  He held his finger to his mouth.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘She’s here for me. I know there’s no future between us, but I need you to—’

  ‘Margery, there’s no time.’ He wanted that time!

  ‘Can you...will you protect her?’

  She didn’t have to ask. ‘I’ll find some way. When Ian leaves again I’ll create a distraction, if necessary.’

  ‘His guards are here. There are more guards, too. There are too many.’

  And all their swords would be pointed to her.

  ‘There are only the ones at your door.’

  ‘Then another will get to your family. You risk them if you do.’

  How quickly she knew the risks! ‘There’s some distance between here and there. They have a chance if I can get to them. Your sister has none if we don’t do something fast. Who’s the usher?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I believe my sister knows him.’

  He agreed. It had been the way the man stood, as if protecting Biedeluue—a fact that if he’d noticed, so had Lord Warstone. Something he needed to tell Margery.

  ‘Ian knows she’s your sister,’ he said.

  ‘He can’t.

  ‘Warstones always know—or they guess and all too often are right.’

  ‘How would he guess?’

  ‘You could have given him a clue.’ He remembered. ‘You cut yourself on that dagger purposely to get his attention away from her.’

  ‘What have I done...?’

  Nothing but be good, loyal and brave.

  He took her bandaged hand. ‘Don’t do that again. Please, Margery, stay safe. Stay here until I come again. Can you do that?’

  ‘My sister... I’m surprised she hasn’t already come to these rooms.’

  ‘Stay. Here. Even if she comes, stay here.’ He looked to the window. ‘I’ve got to go. I can’t be caught here again.’

  He stepped back, his eyes never leaving her.

  Would this be it?

  ‘I’ll stay, Evrart,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay if you answer this.’

  He gave a curt nod.

  ‘Why were you standing on the other side of the door?’

  His dear sweet Margery. ‘Don’t you know? I was trying to keep you safe from me.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Margery resumed her pacing and hated every step she took. She’d been at the whim of her family and her village until she’d made her own fateful decision to accept Josse. Since then she’d lived as much as she could by her own volition. She’d wanted to learn to read and write...to do sums and learn languages. She had demanded it.

  Now to be confined, when she truly wanted to grab her sister and run to another country, and not to be able to...

  What did Evrart mean by keeping her safe from him? She’d kept on thinking of his words and deeds all morning. Him not opening the door...him repeating the word ‘safe’. She’d thought he meant safe from Ian, but then he’d said from him.

  He said there was no future for them. She accepted that. Even if they got out of here alive, with her sister safe, his family safe, there was still the fact of her past. She’d chosen Josse—a difficult decision. But the reasons behind her choosing him hadn’t just been about her poverty. They’d been about how hard it was for her family to care for her. She’d been a burden on them since her birth. She wasn’t worthy of them.

  And now Evrart said he wanted her safe from him. Was that why he’d pushed her aside? Not because of his family or because he had no space in his heart for her, but because he thought himself dangerous?

  She loved him. She shouldn’t. She should still protect herself. But there was so much about him—how could she not have let her defences down? All this time he had been worthy, not her.

  Sitting down on the bench by the window, she still couldn’t see Evrart or any of the new arrivals. The sounds in the castle were many, however.

  At any moment she expected Ian to storm through. She expected her sister as well—but that was only because Biedeluue rushed ahead before she thought matters through. Or maybe she had come and was being delayed by the guards? Anything could happen to her! And who was the usher Louve? Why had Ian seemed so pleased with that conversation about food?

  She didn’t need to be safe from Evrart. She needed him. He was worried for her...for her hand. He was concerned over Ian and his madness. Was Ian slipping out of reason? What did that mean? He’d never harmed her before—hardly touched her. That slice on her palm had been almost as if he was proving a point—but what? Had he been showing off because of Bied? Impossible.

  The ominous quiet weighed heavily. There was nothing to break the circle of her thoughts, and she was starving. Would Jeanne come and stay long enough for her to ask a few questions?

  Standing again, she paced the entirety of the rooms which were open to her because Ian had made them so. One antechamber led to another, then another. All were furnished with chairs and tables and whatever a person in captivity might need. They were sumptuous, but by now she could count every floor stone.

  Another turn about the room and she could hear the guards conversing outside the door. They never talked of anything worth hearing. It was as if they knew not to mention Ian, or the kitchens, or anything that would help her escape. Then there were other voices. A man’s and...her sister’s! Bied was on the other side!

  Margery pressed her ear to the door. It was Bied! A click of the latch, and Margery scrambled back—to see the usual guards, and then the new usher!

  ‘What are you—?’

  Behind him came a familiar figure, ambling in sideways, as soon as the guards would let her. Her sister! The door slammed shut, but she didn’t care, she was hugging and squeezing her with all her might.

  ‘Biedeluue! How did you get here?’ She pulled back, noticing the usher move swiftly to one of the windows to look down below.

  ‘I have brought a tray of food,’ Bied said. ‘Jeanne’s slicing vegetables in the kitchens today.’

  She truly was pretending to be the cook, but... Margery glanced again at the man, who had moved to another one of the windows.

  ‘Who is he?’ Margery indicated with her chin.

  ‘This is Louve,’ she said. ‘He’s usher here.’

  If he was usher, she truly was a mistress and Bied a cook.

  Margery crossed her arms and tapped her fingers along her elbows. When Bied looked a bit sheepish, she arched her brows for good measure. Her sister would eventually tell the truth.

  ‘He’s here because...because...’ Bied set down the tray she carried and seemed to gather her thoughts.

  The sudden quiet was broken by Louve, who was rifling through the contents of a table where there were papers and a quill, opening up a large flat box and then another.

  ‘Which one is his chest?’ Louve said.

  Ah. Ian’s mysterious messages. Constantly he was at his writing table, and men would wait to be handed a sealed scroll. When Margery was especially bored she’d rifle through the desk, much as this usher now did.

  He wasn’t an usher. He carried himself like nobility, with an undercurrent of vanity. And wasn’t his gait that bit more assured? She would have sworn in the hall he had limped. What was his relationship with her sister?

  She looked at Bied, but she only gaped at the man, as if not expecting his question. Interesting...

  Waving around the contents, Margery said, ‘They’re all his chests. Except for the two gowns, everything here is his.’

  ‘Where does he keep his papers?’ Louve said. ‘Messages?’

  Margery pointed. ‘He writes everything there.’

  Louve shook his head. ‘When he receives messages, where do they go?’

  Enough questions. Her sister now
looked perturbed. Was it possible these two were working together? But this man was beautiful and her sister... Her sister did not trust men—any of them. Especially men who looked like him and held themselves like him.

  ‘You’re not an usher,’ she said.

  He slammed a lid closed. Opened another box. ‘Tell me.’

  This man might not have been truthful to her sister. Except her sister looked at Louve as if she did trust him.

  When Bied nodded at Margery, she continued. ‘The messenger makes an odd knock on that door,’ Margery said. ‘A guard opens it. I have to turn my back and face that window until Ian tells me I can turn again.’

  ‘Except you’ve watched,’ he said.

  Of course she had. He was holding her life to ransom. For no purpose. She had no coin to pay him, no connections for him to use. ‘A bit...when I didn’t turn fast enough. He doesn’t like that.’

  ‘Where else can I look for a piece of parchment about this size, with drawings? Something beautiful and colourful,’ asked Louve.

  Margery shook her head. ‘There’s nothing like that here. Trust me, I’ve searched. He doesn’t leave the messages here, I don’t know what he writes, and as for anything else I’ve upturned this place every day, looking for anything to get me out.’

  ‘Does Lord Warstone talk in his sleep?’

  All the time. Though he never slept with her, she could hear him talk of his wife, his children... The vulnerability in his voice was disconcerting when it came from the same man who had sliced against her palm with a knife and threatened her life every day.

  ‘Not about papers,’ she said carefully.

  Louve’s expression darkened. ‘What, then? And be quick about it.’

  ‘It’s none of your concern.’

  ‘Nothing about papers...nothing about gems?’ Louve asked.

  He hadn’t answered any of her questions. Why should she be harangued like this? Her sister was watching both of them and staying silent, which wasn’t like her at all. Had this man threatened her life to keep her silence?

  ‘Nothing that should concern an usher, only a wife,’ she said.

  With one last measured gaze at Margery, Louve strode back to the window, peered one way and then the other, cursed, and then gave out a huff of amusement.

  Margery kept her gaze on her sister. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Won’t you ask him what he wants with those questions?’ Bied said.

  ‘I’ve been in this room for far too long and I am certain it’s safer not to ask.’

  ‘I brought her here—I’ll keep you both safe,’ Louve announced.

  Margery doubted that. He was conceited... Arrogant. This Louve acted like every man she’d ever met, with the exception of Evrart. What was her sister doing with him?

  Turning her back on Louve who was looking out of the window again, she whispered, ‘Why are you in the fortress?’

  ‘You sent me a message,’ Bied said. ‘You said you were in danger.’

  It was just as she’d feared! ‘That message was for our brothers—not for you.’

  Bied swallowed. ‘Who has always helped you in the past?’

  Margery shook her head. She had written to her sister to keep her away. She’d even said how pleased she was to have captivated Ian’s attention. All for nothing—because she was here. They weren’t children anymore, and this wasn’t just a few bruises from a game of throwing hammers!

  ‘With my bumps and bruises,’ she said. ‘How can you be so reckless as to come here?’

  The usher snorted behind them. Margery ignored it.

  ‘Me reckless?’ Bied said. ‘I warned you of Lord Warstone. Nothing you said in your message eased any of my concerns. All you talked about was how handsome he was...how charming.’

  Margery gasped. Bied had warned her? Had she replied to the message she’d sent? If she had, Roul might have it. She couldn’t think of that. It didn’t matter as long as Ian hadn’t intercepted it.

  ‘Is that why you’re here? I only said all that for your sake.’

  Bied looked aghast. ‘What?’

  How to talk about this when they’d never had a true conversation about the other men? About the fact she’d left their tiny village because she had known her sister protected her, because she hadn’t wanted to be a burden?

  That was her fault. But it was Louve’s fault she couldn’t truly talk now. She didn’t dare have such a painful conversation in front of him. She’d have to tell only some of the truth.

  ‘If I had told you I was involved with a man for the coin, for his connections—which all exist, mind you—would you have let me go?’

  Eyes narrowing, Bied tilted her head. ‘So...you’re not broken-hearted?’

  No, she was terrified. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘You put yourself in this danger for nothing?’

  Margery glanced at Louve, who’d gone back to the first window to look out. She didn’t want to talk of this now, but maybe now was all they had.

  ‘You aren’t nothing,’ she said. ‘Our family isn’t nothing. You work and give coin to Mother and to the others. Yet you save nothing for yourself. And what Lord Warstone promised me...well...’

  ‘You did this for me?’

  She would do anything for her family including stretching the facts to protect them.

  ‘I knew he was different from the others,’ she said. ‘I heard rumours he was dangerous, but his offer was enough to truly make a difference. Especially for Mabile, who wrote to me and—’

  ‘Mabile!’ Bied said. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  There. More facts, more stories. More matters to straighten and understand. But what had Bied been doing while she had been locked up in a fortress? They would need to talk soon.

  However, telling her sister anything now, with Louve listening, didn’t sit well. She didn’t know him, and he wasn’t Evrart. Maybe when it was finally safe, when they were far away from Ian, she’d let her sister know she didn’t need her protection, that Ian was mad, and that she was sorry the family had had to sacrifice so much for her. That because of her birth her father had left, her mother had broken. All those words and more—but later. Not now. She didn’t trust prying eyes or ears.

  ‘I don’t know why she told me instead of you, but in truth we never know where you go until you write to us. And I’ve been here for so long.’ Margery eyed the door and sighed. It seemed forever since she’d received that letter from Mabile.

  ‘What is happening to Mabile?’ asked Bied.

  With a glance to Louve, Margery said, ‘She’s pregnant again and she did so poorly before. She won’t be able—’

  ‘You have only moments,’ Louve interrupted.

  Louve might look as if he was occupied by events outside, but she knew he listened. She was wise not to trust him—wise not to tell everything. Just enough to shield her sister. To get her out of this room and back to safety. Away from Ian.

  Away from Louve.

  Except he not only looked out of the windows, he also looked back at her sister. He looked angry, determined, but also concerned. She was right not to trust him, but it was clear her sister did.

  ‘Louve truly is protecting us,’ she whispered. ‘I’m curious now—who is he?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Bied said. ‘He’s lying.’

  Louve cleared his throat, and this time Margery gave him her full attention. Though he might not deserve it. Bied had said Louve was lying, but her words had held no bite. If she had to guess at their relationship, she’d say they were close. She prayed he was good to Bied.

  ‘Are you poisoning the ale?’ he said.

  Not what she’d expected. ‘What?’

  ‘She wouldn’t do that.’

  Bied immediately stood in front of her, her hands on her hips. Margery could hardly see the man trying
to stare her down.

  ‘There are casks that are poisoned. Are you,’ Louve asked, ‘or is someone you know, putting poison in the ale?’

  Margery placed her hand on her sister’s arm. Bied lowered her hands and stepped to the side. She truly adored her sister, but right now this was her battle. Although it was one she didn’t understand. What ale had she had lately...? Oh, the ale last night had tasted off.

  ‘Is that what’s wrong with it?’

  Bied turned to her. ‘You didn’t drink any of it, did you?’

  Margery shook her head. ‘It was vile. I’ve been drinking wine ever since.’

  ‘And how is your hand?’ Bied asked.

  How many of her cuts and bruises had her sister repaired? Many.

  Smiling, Margery raised it. ‘Wrapped. It was only a shallow cut.’

  Bied gave her a quick hug...which hurt. Margery flinched.

  Bied flung herself away. ‘You are hurt! Let’s get you out of here. You need to rest, to heal.’

  No, there was no fixing this—and Margery was all too aware that Louve kept on watching them. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in front of him, because she knew why she hurt.

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ she said.

  ‘You wrote that letter,’ Bied said. ‘You have a swollen lip, and goodness knows what else, and you tell me it’s not what I think?’

  It was from being held by Evrart. Did he care for her? Love her? Was he truly keeping them apart because he wanted her safe? Foolish man! They, too, needed to talk.

  ‘It is just that.’

  Bied tapped her foot. ‘I came here to rescue you.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she said. ‘Though you were supposed to send someone else.’

  ‘When it comes to the family, I’ve always come to your aid.’

  Now they were back to this—but better to discuss her sister’s overprotection and not Evrart and the fierce way he held her.

  ‘Except this time I need someone who can use a weapon against trained men. You can’t fight any of these warriors.’

  ‘If you needed a sword, you should have said,’ Bied said. ‘I would have found one—or some weapon. Or...’