by C. C. Wiley
“Of course, sweeting, if ’tis within my power.”
“Reconsider my confinement. Allow me to go down to the garden and join the procession.”
The woman’s stout body jerked as if splashed with ice-cold water. She yanked her hand away and stepped back. “No, you will stay here.”
“For pity’s sake, can you not allow me a small comfort for at least today?”
“Pity!” she sputtered. “Share with me what comfort I gain this day.”
“I thought we might console each other in our loss,” Clarice answered softly. “You, Robert, and I are a family. ’Tis all we have.”
Annora’s hand stole over the gold chain swinging between her breasts. She clutched the glistening stone to her heart. “I fear little comfort can be found here. Too much has been promised. Too much has failed.”
Swallowing her pride, Clarice offered, “Perchance Robert and I—”
“Robert agrees,” Annora cut her off with a smile. “Already a day has passed since your father’s death. ’Tis not the time to indulge in self-pity but to make amends to King Henry. As it is, my son has had to travel beyond Henry’s reach until I can find a way to make up for your father’s missteps.”
Clarice could see an idea spring to Annora’s mind. Her skin itched where her stepmother’s gaze traveled over her body from head to toe. She wished her father were there to sway Annora from any ill-conceived scheme she might devise.
“Henry is young. Virile,” her stepmother went on.
Clarice’s eyebrow arched in consternation, trying to follow Annora’s hidden meaning. “So I assume, from Robert’s many tales. Yet I have heard he has turned from his devilish ways since donning the crown.”
“Nevertheless, Henry might close an eye to religious chastity and accept a small token of our . . . loyalty.” Annora tapped her lip with her fingers. Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “If he accepts, it will prove he has forgiven the Margrave name.”
“What gift might we offer the king? You know the soldiers left nothing of value.”
Annora stepped closer. As soft as a whisper, the single word was spoken. “You.”
“Me?” Amazed at her stepmother’s audacity, Clarice tensed like a hare caught in an archer’s sights.
“’Tis time you accept your fate.” Annora’s desperate voice tore across the barren room. Its volume bounced against the rafters. “With your father’s death, he has betrayed us all.”
“There must be another way.”
“A pity to lose one’s head on a chopping block over such a trivial matter as your virginity. ’Tis a good thing we kept you safe within these walls.” Annora lifted a loose strand of Clarice’s hair and held it up to the light of the remaining sunset. “In truth, I would rather keep my head and make the necessary sacrifice.”
Clarice blinked back tears and glanced at the open window. The flickering light had all but disappeared.
Annora proceeded with relentless determination. “Our precarious position with the crown forced your father to take his own life.”
“I still do not believe Father would take his own life, nor ever betray his king. Please, M-mother, allow me to discover who spread this venom.”
Her stepmother whisked her skirts out of the way and swept across the chamber to stand by the hearth. Annora trailed a finger over the stone mantelpiece as she spoke. “’Tis a laughable notion.”
Clarice followed her, relentless in her pursuit. “I will find our justice, but do not think to sacrifice me to the king’s bed.”
Annora paused, turning slowly on her heel. Her eyes glittered with animosity. “Did you know, ’twas your father’s decision to keep you hidden behind these walls? Not that I minded. Clarice,” she hesitated, examining a smudge of soot on her fingers, “have you never wondered why there was no family Bible on display?”
“I thought perhaps ’twas in safekeeping.”
“Without proof, no one will believe you are his child unless I say ’tis so.”
“Maud will—”
“The word of a servant?” Annora shook her head, dipping her hands in the bowl of water warming by the fire. “Accept it: You have nothing with which to bargain. Nothing that will open doors.”
“But—”
“No.” Her stepmother held up her hand for silence. “There is naught you can do on your own. You’ll stay behind these walls until I deem it time to present you to the king’s mercy. Then you’ll wield your maidenhead like a finely honed weapon. If you behave yourself and luck is with us, he’ll take you to his bed. If you please him, our place in court will be secured.”
Clarice fisted her hands to keep from throttling the woman. “I will speak to the king, but I will not spread my legs for him to plunder.”
“I don’t understand why you are so distraught.” Annora offered a cold smile. “I hear the king can be quite generous.”
“You are mad,” Clarice sputtered. “I never—”
“When the time is right, once assured you have pleased him, I will bring forth irrefutable proof that you are Nicholas Margrave’s daughter. If you’ve done well, he might even forget you are the daughter of a traitor.”
Desperate, Clarice cast a wide gaze around the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Would the woman never listen? “As you said, no one has knowledge of my existence. Why would the king want me? Or believe what you say is true?”
Annora paced the floor, her gown swishing with every step. “Patience will be necessary. We’ll wait until Robert gives his signal that he is out of harm’s way,” she said with a giddy lilt to her voice. “Then we shall strike.”
“Patience,” Clarice repeated. Her father had put that same request to her on the night of his death. They asked too much. Her body shook with rage. “Though I am certain ’tis no concern of yours, Maud and I have very little to survive the winter. There is only a small amount left from the supplies Father purchased from the peddler.”
“You will do as you are ordered,” Annora hissed. “You owe it to your family.”
Clarice jerked as if struck. “I did nothing more than desire your love and affection.”
“Rubbish! Had you not maimed Robert in your jealousy, he would already be a part of the king’s army.”
Annora now stood so close that Clarice could taste the violet scent permeating the air. The stench mixed with the accusation was enough to make her ill. “We were children. He should never have climbed on the roof to kill the birds.”
“Robert may have been out on the gable but ’twas you who pushed him. Made him fall and injure his arm.”
“Lies—”
Annora waved away her protest. “’Twas a grievous injury. If he could have fought by the king’s side, he would have managed to hold the king’s favor. Despite your father’s treasonous behavior, Robert would have convinced Henry that we remain his loyal subjects.”
The gold chain hanging around her neck twisted in her plump fingers. “Because of your selfish actions, your stepbrother has no military presence to prove our loyalty.” Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Our house in London is already confiscated. Now, with your father’s disgraceful death, this manor house and land will be out of our hands.”
Clarice looked about this hated room. Hidden in the country, Margrave Manor had been easy for her stepmother to ignore. Without funds and labor, the buildings already showed signs of decay. “Let them take it,” she said, putting a brave face on it. “I’ve had my fill of this place.”
“Oh, I think not,” Annora said. “You will not be able to live with your conscience when Maud is cast from Margrave lands. Homeless. Penniless.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Annora waved with a careless flip of the hand. “A few well-placed whispers of treason heard often enough soon becomes truth. Your father is proof of that.”
“Maud can come with me. To a convent,” Clarice offered.
“’Tis a sad circumstance, my dear, but no convent will want you when they discover you are without f
unds.”
“Father would have set aside a dowry—”
“One would think that, wouldn’t one?” She picked up a discarded flower, twirling the dry stem between her fingers as she pressed her point. “As I said, Clarice, if I get what I want, I will produce the proof of your birth to our king. When you fulfill your duties to your family, I will see that you are comfortably settled.”
The mutilated flower fell to the floor and turned to dust under her heel. “Or I will conveniently forget it with very little effort. Count yourself warned, my darling. Do not deny your duty. ’Tis the only answer left if we are to be saved from the king’s wrath.”
Clarice stared in disbelief. “I refuse to play the harlot.”
Annora’s eyes narrowed above her rounded cheeks. As she backed out of the chilled room, she bit out a final instruction. “Fight me on this and I will start the whispering. Your beloved servant will be dead before nightfall. Cooperate, bring pleasure to your king, and she might live out her days in the quiet countryside. ’Tis on your head. You have until tomorrow to decide.”
“Stop!”
“You think to sway me from this plan?” Annora asked. “Begging does not change the heart. This I learned from your father. Despite my sacrifices for him, did he offer a shoulder of comfort for me? No. Not once. His adoration was always for his angel. For you. Never for Robert. Never for me.” She turned, her fingers whitening as she clutched the door. “At long last his beloved angel will no longer haunt my dreams.”
The turning of the iron key cut into the echoing silence.
Chapter 5
Clarice placed a precious log on the glowing embers. The shadows on the wall stretched as nightfall took hold. Standing near the hearth, she warmed her hands. Oh, if only the peddler would hasten his return.
Once he crossed the gate’s threshold, she would send a message with Maud, asking for his help. Their time was growing short.
Already a week had passed since her father’s death. She feared her stepmother was going mad with frustration. Despite the woman’s efforts, Clarice remained firm in her refusal to play the king’s harlot.
Footsteps shuffled across the stone pavers, stopping outside her chamber door. She tensed. Did Annora come with a new plan of how she would deposit her in the king’s bed? Despite her effort to remain calm, her legs trembled as the door opened.
“I’ve victuals, my lady.”
“Good woman,” Clarice said, stumbling back. “I fear tonight you have taken five and twenty off my years here on earth.” She rushed to take the tray from Maud’s hands and inhaled the comforting aroma of a thick, hearty stew. “God’s spirit! You are too good to me.”
“Hush now, my lady, ’tis a trencher of day-old rabbit stew, not a side of venison.”
“What brings you here at this hour? You should be abed and resting.”
“How can I sleep with our lives in disarray?”
“All will be well soon enough,” Clarice said, juggling the tray with one hand. “Come. Sit a moment.” With her free hand, she patted Maud’s shoulder and started at how bone thin it had become. “Tell me, how did you come here without being noticed?”
“Lady Annora has retired to her bedchambers.” She wrung the threadbare apron in her hands. “’Tis Lord Robert. He has returned.”
Clarice set down the tray on the bench by the fire. “That must mean the king’s ire is not so bad.”
“I overheard the two of them talking. They will find a way to rid you from their lives should you refuse them again.”
“Maud, are you sure you heard correctly?”
“My knees may be weak, but I know what I hear.”
“Father spoke of France being a haven for those who threaten England’s crown. I will plant a word of it in their ears.” Clarice ripped off a small chunk of bread for herself and held out a larger piece for Maud to dip into the trencher. “I wager they will be gone by morrow’s eve.”
“They argued this night. Harlots of London were mentioned.”
The stew-soaked bread lodged in Clarice’s throat. “What?” she croaked, dodging the woman’s well-intended blows to her back. “Are you certain?”
“’Tis certain as the hair on my head is gray. Go, child,” Maud said. “Hide yourself in the glen until they leave.”
“And what would happen to you?” She covered Maud’s overworked hands. “I won’t leave you to their wrath.”
“Lord’s mercy, I could not go with you if I wanted to. My legs are too old for travel.”
“Then we shall do as I said before and wait for them to grow bored. They’ll not wish to remain here indefinitely. Not while the king’s wrath continues to hang over their heads and there’s a new life for them to create elsewhere.”
Maud twisted her work-swollen fingers together. “God, forgive me. I fear I’ve waited too long.” Agitated, she rose and paced the chamber. “I thought his mind was breaking, that he was overwrought. I didn’t understand the danger.” Her lips trembled as she whispered the last. “But he knew, didn’t he?”
“Who?” Clarice peered at her old friend. “The peddler? Don’t worry so. You’ll add wrinkles to your face. What would he think when he returns?” she teased. “He might forget where he keeps more of those beautiful ribbons.”
“No. I . . .” Maud snuffled a tear and gulped the air as if ’twas her last before plunging into a nearby stream. “I dare not tarry any longer.” She reached into a deep pocket sewn into her skirt and pulled out a shiny object.
“What is this?” Clarice stared at the key Maud pressed into her palm. She brushed her finger over the smooth, rounded edge that stuck out on one side. “It looks like the head of an ugly bird.”
“’Twas Lord Margrave’s,” Maud said. She flipped the cloak hanging on the hook and shoved it into Clarice’s arms. “Now do as he wished. Run; seek out King Henry.”
“You would have me follow Annora’s plan?” The thought of betrayal plunged into her chest. Its icy hand clutched her heart. “As much as I would like to clear Father’s name, I will not run to Henry’s bed.”
“No, child, not to his bed.” Maud closed the few steps between them. Determination glittered in her aged, watery eyes. “To his throne to seek his help.”
“Impossible.” Clarice waved her off. “You know I’m not allowed outside these walls. And even if I did escape, there is truth that my chance of survival would be grim. Let alone gaining an audience with the king.”
“But, my lady—”
The truth of her desperate situation peeled back the thin layer of bravery, revealing the foolishness of hope. “’Tis as Annora said. Even if he would deign to forgive our family, I don’t have proof of who I am. I’m an unknown. And an unknown gaining a royal audience is unheard of.”
“Attend my words,” Maud urged again. “I thought it madness at first, but I cannot ignore your father’s wishes any longer. If even a hint of suspicion surrounded his death, I was to give you that key. You must leave Margrave and find a red wolf that will lead you to the king. Show the key to the wolf. He’ll understand its meaning.”
“A red wolf?” Clarice patted Maud’s gnarled joints. “Even if I knew where to look for such a wolf, I wouldn’t leave you.”
Maud grabbed her shoulders with surprising strength. Holding them tight, she said, “Yes, you will.” She placed her palm against Clarice’s cheek. “You have no choice.”
* * *
Clarice dropped the last remaining stick of wood onto the pile of embers in the hearth. She held the oddly shaped key up to the light. A bird’s head formed the top. She shook her head and dropped it back into a little satin pouch hidden under her gown.
If the key did indeed hold great importance, her father would have given it to her the last time he had visited her chamber. And why place it in Maud’s care? It took the better part of the night to convince the poor dear that Clarice had no knowledge of wolves, let alone one specific red wolf. Even if her father had mentioned one, she did not have the
slightest notion in which direction to begin her journey.
With dawn nearing, she blew out the candle before the last little chunk melted into a puddle of wax. After tucking the woolen blanket around her feet, she curled into a tight ball.
Waiting for sleep to come, she worried how the old servant would fare with the day’s work laying heavy on her thin shoulders. Regardless of Maud’s arguments, Clarice’s resolve remained strong. She would not leave her behind to fend off Annora’s wrath, nor the king’s edict should her stepmother’s threats prove true.
The slow grind of metal turning back the bolt chased away all thoughts of warm toes and a cozy fire. Clarice blinked the weariness from her eyes. Moving her hand under the wad of cloth she used to pillow her head, she touched the blade her father had left behind.
The door opened.
Unaided by candlelight, the intruder inched through the entrance, then across the room. Toward Clarice’s bed. The rosy glow in the hearth flickered. His demon shadow, painted on the wall, bent and swayed with every step.
Her grip tightened around the hilt of the knife. ’Twas Robert. She had always been able to feel his presence whenever he tried to slip into a room without her notice.
“Clarice. Clarice,” his singsong chant began. “I know you’re here.” He chuckled at his wittiness. “’Course where else could you be, eh?”
She held her breath until her eyes watered. She dared not scream for fear Maud would come to her rescue. The frail woman would never outlast his strength. Not even with his weakened arm.
“Come here, sweet sister. Let us comfort each other.”
Clarice dropped silently to the floor and slid under the cot. The sound of his steps moved closer.
“’Tis cold in here,” he muttered. “Let me warm the chill away.”
She wanted to shut her eyes, will him gone, but that would be a deadly mistake. Maud had reported she’d overheard Annora and Robert arguing about drinking to excess. If he’d had too much, he would be in no mood to leave empty-handed.
“Come, Clarice,” he called out again.
His boot caught the side-table leg and he stumbled. Fear closed around her heart as he snapped up the blanket and peered under the bed. The shadows cast from the fire behind them danced under his cheekbones. “There you are.” He grinned, his teeth flashing like a cunning fox. “You must realize you can never hide from me.”
