by Byrne, Julia
So much for enjoying herself away from him. Somehow, in their brief time together, she had grown accustomed to his protection. After years of constant guardedness, of having to protect herself, there was something very reassuring in the knowledge that his solid strength stood between her and danger. He might be infuriating and intimidating, and much too complex for her peace of mind, but she could not think of one other man of her acquaintance whom she would trust with her safety or her life.
And that despite her suspicions that he knew more about their capture than he was willing to tell her.
She shivered suddenly as an insidious little question crept into her mind. If she trusted Beaudene with her life, did that mean she could trust him in other ways? With the secret she had guarded for years? With her heart?
A strange stillness settled around her. The sounds and bustle of the fair seemed to fade into a misty distance, and all she could see was a series of images. Beaudene leaning against the wall in her uncle’s hall, watching her with the golden eyes of a hawk; standing, tall and powerful across a fire, waiting for her capitulation; blazing-eyed and furious because she had risked danger in an attempt to get to Wells.
And against all that she had only one kiss. One brief moment, that for all its sweetness had left her bewildered and strangely vulnerable. Why would she trust her heart to a man who had such an unsettling effect on her?
Aye, he protected her, but ’twas his duty to do so. She would do well to remember that. She might amuse him occasionally, he might be completely unlike the other men she knew, but he was just her bodyguard. She was in his charge. Nothing more.
’Twas why she hadn’t dared risk his escort this morning. Even if he didn’t know about the herb she intended to purchase, ’twould be just like him to notice it and question her at length about its properties.
“My lady? I mean, Nell, are you all right?”
Bess’s anxious countenance swam before her eyes. Nell blinked, coming back to her surroundings with a jolt. Noise and movement started up around her again, as loud and bewildering as before.
“Shall we purchase something to eat, mistress?” Bess went on. She indicated a nearby pie-vendor who was eyeing them with interest. “You look a little pale.”
“Succulent pigeons in a coffin, ladies,” the man called, with an ingratiating grin.
Nell repressed a shudder. “Nay, thank you, Bess. I’m just a little tired, ’tis all. We should conclude our business and be gone.”
“Aye, ’tis a long walk back,” Bess agreed. She touched Nell’s arm. “This way, lady. The old woman’s booth is at the end of the row, near yonder trees. And let us hope we can slip away without those dolts noting our direction.” She frowned, glancing back at the youths as she spoke. “I mislike the way they’re following us.”
“They’ll lose interest if we ignore them,” Nell murmured, hoping to heaven she was right. Dismissing the apprentices from her mind, she thought of the herbs and medicines she needed to buy. That was all she had to worry about. Helping Bess’s people. One especially.
The reminder sent another chill feathering over her flesh. For some reason, a decision that had seemed so simple and right yesterday was becoming harder to contemplate.
“The last booth, you say?” She fixed her gaze on a faded green awning set a little apart from the others and quickened her pace, suddenly aware that a mere fifty yards away, several men-at-arms were engaged in setting up butts for an archery contest later in the day. “What is the woman’s name?” she asked Bess.
“Maudelin.” Bess lowered her voice, although at this end of the row of stalls the crowd had thinned out considerably. “But that is all I know of her. No one even knows where she lives. ’Tis said she appears without summons at the castle if she’s needed, then vanishes back into the woods, though none have seen her go. And they say she has a pet squirrel that takes food from her lips.”
“She probably tamed it,” Nell muttered, too busy battling her own private demons to worry about the unearthly kind. “But at this moment I don’t care if both she and the squirrel can fly.”
Bess looked rather awed at this reckless statement, but remained silent as they arrived at the booth. Nell found herself subjected to a thorough scrutiny from a pair of black eyes, set like shiny little stones in a brown, wrinkled face.
The woman staring at her looked as if the slightest puff of wind would blow her over, but Nell didn’t make the mistake of thinking the old dame was wanting it wits as well as substance. Those dark eyes were shrewd and held the knowledge of ages.
“Meg is gone,” she said, without any greeting and without taking her gaze from Nell. “And you, girl, want something special from me.”
“We want many things, Mistress Maudelin,” Nell answered with a calm she was far from feeling. Despite her brave words to Bess, the old crone was a disturbing sort of person, but she suspected that, like Beaudene, the woman respected those she could not intimidate.
“To start, a lotion of comfrey or betony. Or, if ’tis not made up, then comfrey leaves, if they be freshly picked. St. John’s wort and woundwort-cream. A little syrup of poppy. Horehound, coltsfoot, mint and bay—also in a syrup, if you have it, or steeped in spirit of wine. Mulberry leaves to make a paste for burns. Fennel and basil. And—” She took a deep breath. “Some hyssop.”
Maudelin’s black eyes narrowed, deepening the wrinkles in her lined face. “So knowledgeable for a young lady,” she murmured. “But rash, like all the young. You should try spitting thrice in a frog’s mouth, girl. Or eating bees.” She laughed suddenly, a harsh sound that cracked in the middle. “’Tis safer for such a delicate creature as yourself.”
“I prefer something more certain,” Nell said, holding the dame’s gaze. She didn’t bother to correct Maudelin’s assumption that the herb she needed was for herself. “And I can pay you well.”
After another long moment, the woman shrugged. “Choose what you will,” she said, gesturing with a gnarled hand toward the bowls and flasks lined up at the rear of the booth. “But later, choose wisely, girl. You think you are hard enough for the task, but there is a softness in you that few have seen. And remember, a deed once done may be regretted too late.”
Nell acted on the first statement and closed her mind to the rest, thankful when the old woman turned her attention to Bess and started questioning her about Meg. She did not speak again until her purchases were made and stowed safely in the willow basket they had brought for the purpose.
“What was that about?” Bess demanded, the minute they were out of earshot. “All that nonsense about frogs and bees. Does Maudelin doubt your knowledge?”
Nell shook her head and resisted the urge to look back. She knew Maudelin was watching her. She could feel that black-eyed stare boring into her back.
“Such people indulge in mysterious sayings to impress the ignorant and simple,” she retorted, while mentally crossing herself. Then realized that her reply was hardly flattering to Bess. “It matters not,” she tacked on hastily. “If you are done here, we should be off. Creeping out before first light was easy, but I don’t know how we’re going to explain our long absence.”
“We’ll tell the truth,” Bess said, with a blithe unconcern that made Nell stare at her in astonishment. “What can they do except yell at us? We’ve already done what we set out to do. But I think we may have a problem here first.”
Nell looked up to see that one of the town apprentices, egged on by his fellows and a considerable quantity of ale, had planted himself in their path.
“I’m in the next wrestling match,” he announced in slurred accents. He waved a hand toward the cleared space behind him and almost lost his balance. “And whichever wench cheers me on can spend the purse I’ll win. For a small favor.” He leered. “What say you?”
“Win!” Bess drew herself up to her full height, which was several inches below that of their would-be swain, and glared at him. “Your opponent will only have to breathe and you’ll topple ove
r. Out of our way, you drunken oaf, or I’ll call the soldiers.”
Her clear voice carried for several yards. Amid an outburst of laughter from the passers-by the youth’s companions began jeering and shouting out crude advice.
Under cover of the noise, Nell tugged at Bess’s sleeve. “We do not want any soldiers,” she hissed.
“Too late,” Bess muttered, as three men-at-arms abandoned their archery targets and began to push their way through the crowd gathering about the small scene. “Don’t worry,” she added. “They’ll haul the lot of them off and throw them into a cell until they’re sober. You won’t have to speak. Indeed, ’twould be better if you did not.”
“Give way there!” The first man-at-arms to reach them plucked an urchin out of his path, looked at Nell and Bess, and puffed out his chest. “You ladiesh havin’ trouble here?” he asked, and hiccupped.
“Oh, nay,” groaned Nell. “He’s been drinking, too. What in heaven’s name are we going to do?”
Every eye in the crowd turned to her. Too late, she realized why Bess wanted her to stay silent.
“A lady!”
“’Tis a lady.”
“Dressed like that? Don’t be a dolt.”
The comments rippled through the crowd like a breeze through a forest. Almost imperceptibly the mob shuffled closer. Someone reached out a hand and touched Nell’s gown, testing the wool.”
She slapped the man’s hand away. “Loose my gown, fellow,” she ordered in her haughtiest tones. If the damage was done, she might as well try to command her way out of their predicament.
She realized immediately it wasn’t going to work. The murmurs rose higher on the air like the hum of a hive of bees.
“Now, mistress, you don’t want to cause any trouble,” another man-at-arms began in portentous tones. He took her arm in a hard-fingered grip. “You come along with me and—”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Nell wrenched her arm free and glared at the soldier. “If you possessed a grain more sense than these fools, you would take them away and teach them not to harass common citizens.”
“That be no common citizen,” shouted a voice in the crowd.
“How would you know, Martin?” yelled another. “You can’t even see straight enough to tell what’s female and what’s not.”
There was a roar of laughter.
“They be female enough to tease us all morning,” accused one of the apprentices. “And if she be a lady, what’s she doing here with only another wench?”
An ominous rumble of agreement rolled through the crowd.
Encouraged by this sign of public support, the youth pressed on. “Who knows them? Who can vouch for them? More’n likely they be thieves come to steal—”
He was promptly howled down by a merchant standing nearby. “They paid their money like everyone else,” the man shouted, apparently taking up the cudgels of defense. “Just because you louts follow anything in a gown—”
He got no further. Carried away by the knowledge that half the crowd was on his side, the apprentice rammed his fist into the merchant’s fat belly. The man doubled over.
“By our Lady!” A second merchant pushed through the crowd, grabbed the strutting youth with two beefy hands, and shook him like a rat. “Is this the sort of protection we pay good money for?” he yelled to his fellows as the boy’s companions rushed to his rescue. “Let’s teach them some manners, lads.”
With a concerted roar of approval, the field promptly erupted into a seething mass of brawling men and crashing tables. Shrieking and yelping with dismay, women, children, and dogs dived for cover behind the more solid booths.
“Saints deliver us!” Clutching her precious basket of medicines, Nell exchanged a horrified glance with Bess and looked around for escape. There was none. They were right in the middle of the madly swaying crowd, and, worse, she was staring directly into the grim face of a sober man-at-arms who, wisely deciding against interfering in something he couldn’t stop without considerable risk to life and limb, took a firm hold of her arm.
“Oh, nay, you don’t,” he growled. “You’re coming up to the castle with me, mistress. Both of you can answer to the sheriff for this disturbance.”
“We didn’t start this,” Bess protested indignantly. And without any warning, she swung the bolt of wool she was carrying and caught the soldier a blow to the side of his head.
“Run!” she shrieked, as the man staggered back.
Nell, already trying to break free of his grasp, was forced to duck as a pigeon pie flew past her head. Her captor, equally determined to hang on, was not so fortunate. Thrown off-balance by trying to avoid two more pies hurled at him in quick succession, he went down into the tangled sea of legs and feet, taking Nell with him.
Her terrified scream was abruptly cut off when a large hand wrapped itself around her other arm and yanked her back to safety.
“God in heaven!” grated an exasperated voice in her ear. “Can’t I leave you alone even for a few hours?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Before Nell could do more than gasp with thankful recognition, she was jerked behind her rescuer and released.
The soldier leapt to his feet with an enraged bellow, met Beaudene’s clenched fist head-on, and crumpled. This time he stayed down.
Beaudene turned to fix Nell with an annoyed glare. “When this is over, princess, I am going to take my hand to your sweet backside so hard you’ll wish you had been dragged up to that castle.”
He side-stepped a tun of wine as it hurtled past him and turned her none too gently in the direction he wanted her to go. “Get over to those trees and stay out of sight!”
Using fists and boots with equal disregard for inflicting damage, he began to forge a path for them through the throng, then wheeled about to cover their retreat.
“They’ll all kill each other,” wailed Bess, as Nell grabbed her hand and they sped toward the shelter of the woods.
“Good!” Nell retorted through chattering teeth. She was still trembling from her recent fright, but she was also furious. How dare Beaudene threaten to beat her because she got into trouble while trying to help people!
“Good?” squeaked Bess. “But Dickon is there, too, and there’s a price on his head. What if he’s caught?”
“’Twill not happen.” They reached the first of the trees and Nell stopped to look back. “They’re men. Far from getting into trouble they’re probably enjoying themselves, and then they can look forward to the pleasure of yelling at us! Never mind that we are the innocent victims here.”
She paused for breath, then continued as furiously as before. “Well, I am not going to let them lay this at our door. If we’d been dealing with rational beings nothing would have happened in the first place!”
“Oh, do not let them hear you say so, lady. Look, they’ve reached those trees over there, and not before time.” Bess pointed in the direction of the castle, where a score of soldiers could be seen descending the rise at a run.
The fairground was a shambles. Enthusiasm for the fight wasn’t waning in the least. Men-at-arms, apprentices, and tradesmen, alike, threw themselves into the battle without regard to station, sobriety, or sense. Nell winced as a man in a farmer’s smock sailed through the air and crashed into an archery butt. He got up, shook his head, and waded back into the fray.
“Idiot males!” she fumed. “Numbskulls! They don’t have a brain between them.”
A twig snapped behind her. “Precisely what I was going to say,” Beaudene grated. “I thought I told you to get into the trees and stay out of sight, not take up a front-row stand.”
Nell whipped around. Beaudene was striding toward them, accompanied by another man who, at first glance, looked startlingly like him. There was one rather obvious difference, however. The second man was laughing so much he could hardly walk.
“Mistress Nell,” he gasped, sobering long enough to get the words out. “My compliments. I swear I haven’t enjoyed myself so much i
n a score of months. Nor has Rafe, probably, but he won’t admit it. And judging by the look on his face, he’s not going to introduce me.” He bowed. “Sir Richard Peverall, at your service.”
Beaudene threw him a furious glance and stalked past him. Wrapping his fingers around Nell’s wrist, he pulled her further into the wood. “You can indulge your misplaced sense of obligation later,” he growled. “We’d better get these two away before those fools out there realize the perpetrators of the whole thing have vanished.”
“Perpetrators!” Nell began, outraged. She was interrupted from an unexpected quarter.
“Sir Richard Peverel?” Bess said weakly. She was staring at Sir Richard as if she’d never seen him before. Then her eyes flashed. One fist went to her hip. “Sir Richard Peverel!”
Richard eyed the roll of cloth in her other hand. “Now, Bess, lass—”
“Don’t you ‘now, Bess, lass’ me,” Bess stormed. “You let me think… You let me believe… How could you, when you knew what had befallen me at the hands of your kind?”
“Damn it, that was why!” Richard exclaimed. “Bess—”
“Come on,” Beaudene murmured. “The horses are over here.”
“But…”
She was towed inexorably onward.
“Richard will soon have your little friend calmed down,” he said. He grinned, the expression so startling after the anger crackling in the air around him that Nell almost tripped over an exposed tree root. “All the way here he was threatening to turn her over his knee, but I rather think he’s met his match.”
“You, I suppose, still intend to carry out your ridiculous threat to beat me. Even though that fight was not my fault.”
His grin vanished. “It damn well was your fault. Little idiot! I should beat you to within an inch of your life. You might learn not to throw yourself headlong into danger every time my back is turned.”
