Fateful Encounter

by June Francis

  ‘Thank you.’ She put down her cup, feeling the colour rise in her face. She was unaccustomed to such fulsome praise.

  ‘It is the truth.’ His hand rested on hers. ‘I have been considering what is best to be done about your kinsman — and have come to a decision.’

  ‘You have?’ She withdrew her hand hurriedly, and taking up her knife, she spiked a chunk of meat adroitly. Was now the time to mention that Master O’More was close? But Master Brandon was speaking again.

  ‘As you know, I am in the Earl of March’s employment, and am even now on my way to Kilkenny to give into the king’s hands a message from his heir. I also have a message for the Earl of Kildare, so will be stopping at Kilkea Castle. It is possible that the Earl of Desmond is staying there. You might have heard of both these noblemen?’

  She nodded. ‘They are members of the Gerald family.’

  ‘You have them.’ He sounded pleased. ‘The Geralds, of course, are one of the oldest of the Anglo-Norman families over here, possessing much land and influence. Desmond has allies among the native Irish. It is possible that he might be able to help you.’

  Constance dropped her knife, and her face brightened. ‘But that is wonderful! Do you mean that he might be able to arrange matters so that an exchange could be achieved more swiftly?’

  ‘It is possible. Do you have any notion which tribe holds Master Milburn?’

  Her brow creased. ‘It will be either the O’Tooles or the O’Mores. He said that his kinsmen held Robin.’

  ‘He?’ Master Brandon toyed with his cup, a sudden tenseness about his mouth.

  ‘The man who captured me. His mother was an O’Toole, I believe. His father must be an O’More, because that is his name.’

  He smiled, and she sensed that he was relieved. ‘That should prove useful, knowing his name. You will come with me, then, to Kilkea Castle?’

  She hesitated before saying, ‘I would like to, only ...’

  ‘Only you fear that I might take advantage of my being of assistance to you?’ His mouth formed a moue.

  ‘I — I did not say that,’ she murmured hurriedly. ‘But we are barely acquainted, Master Brandon.’

  ‘I would be better acquainted. Believe me when I say that my intentions are honourable,’ he told her stiffly.

  A man grunted behind her, and Constance was aware that the conversation was being listened to by the other occupants of the room because of the silence that now occurred. She did not know what to say.

  ‘I — I offer my services with no other intention but to serve you — an Englishwoman in a foreign land.’ Master Brandon’s low voice filled the silence.

  ‘I understand that,’ she said carefully. ‘I did not intend offending you. Of course I shall go with you. It is the wiser course, for what can I gain by staying here?’

  His mouth lengthened, and picking up his cup, he held it high. ‘You have made a wise choice, Mistress Constance. One that I’m sure you will not regret. To the future — and to our hopes — that they may come to fruition.’

  She echoed his words, wondering as she did so just what it was exactly that he hoped for, and whether it concerned herself. The idea worried her slightly, but she had committed herself now. She would tell Master Upton to stay on here and take care of the baggage, and also ask him to set about the task of visiting her manor to prepare them for her coming. Had it not been he who had collected the dues on her husband’s behalf after his father had died? For now, she must put such ponderings aside and concentrate on what to take with her.

  *

  Niall did not give Constance and Master Brandon a second glance, as they rose from the bench and weaved their way through the room. His curiosity was roused, having seen Brandon before in Dublin in company with Sil O’Toole. He fingered the scar on his face. It had been when Art, King of Leinster, and several of the other kings of Ireland had been honoured by the king of England, and they had become English knights. Even then, Niall had puzzled over Sil keeping company with Brandon, when it was well known that he hated everything English. He would like to find out more about Brandon — and he would rather Mistress de Wensley was kept away from the Geralds, especially Desmond. One never knew with the earl, a generous man, who might take her part and help her. He must do something to prevent her leaving. He rose, and went outside.

  *

  As Constance entered the rear yard in company with Master Brandon, she was relieved to see that there was no sign of Niall or Kathleen. They entered the stable, and it was then she realised that Maeve was missing. She went over and checked each individual horse except for the one Master Brandon was saddling up, and then shouted, ‘My horse has been stolen!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Master Brandon came over to her.

  ‘My Maeve!’ She punched the partition near to her. ‘What a fool I was to believe that anything I possess is safe from him!’

  ‘My dear Mistress Constance, whom are we talking about?’

  ‘I saw him from the window,’ she replied in a seething voice. ‘We spoke. He reassured me that Robin would come to no harm, so I did not alert the authorities to his presence in this town. He is a common horse-thief — a scoundrel! He should be excommunicated.’

  ‘Do we talk of the ostler?’ he asked in a bewildered manner.

  ‘No!’ She folded her arms and leaned against the partition, her face stormy. ‘We talk of Niall O’More, who would have held me captive.’

  ‘You mean that he was here, and you never told me?’ Master Brandon’s hand went to her shoulder, gripping it tightly.

  ‘That is exactly what I mean,’ she said crossly. ‘I thought that by the time I did so, he would be gone.’ She shrugged off his hand.

  He drew in a hissing breath. ‘We could have alerted them at the gates, and prevented him from leaving the town.’

  ‘Well, I am paying for my foolishness. We’ll never catch him now.’

  He shook his head. ‘The ostler was in league with him perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps. It means that I cannot come with you now.’

  He stroked his chin as he stared at her. ‘How could he have known you came here, unless he followed you? Mark my words, you were lucky to escape him. He has an eye to your virtue.’

  Constance remained silent, her hands tightly clasped in front of her. Only briefly had she sketched in the bones of the story of what had happened to her, and nothing of spending the night in Niall O’More’s company.

  ‘You cannot stay here,’ Brandon went on. ‘It is not safe. It were best you take Upton’s horse. He can use the pony for his needs, and thus you can still come with me.’

  ‘All right! I shall go with you,’ she said impatiently, and wondered if she was making a mistake in not telling him of the connection between Kathleen and Niall O’More. But if she did, he might suggest going to the sheriff, who would call out whatever forces he held to badger the two sisters. She doubted that they could arrive unseen — and the horse-thief would be gone into the hills before they reached the house.

  Brandon gripped her hand, and smiled. ‘You have made a wise decision. In this way you’ll thwart any plans he might have.’

  ‘I pray so.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘I only hope Robin will not suffer for any of my mistakes.’

  ‘Why should he?’ He pressed her arm. ‘If he is their hostage, they will not harm him.’

  ‘I hope you are right. And I thank you for your concern.’ She took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘Which horse is Master Upton’s?’ she said brightly.

  *

  ‘Now you will do that for me, Master Upton?’ Constance handed him some money.

  ‘Ay, mistress.’ He stared at her dubiously. ‘But are you sure about the wisdom of going with this man?’ He glanced furtively in Master Brandon’s direction. ‘You are barely acquainted with him.’

  ‘I hardly knowyou, Master Upton,’ she replied in icy tones as she pulled on her gloves. ‘Yet, I am trusting you.’

  ‘But I have been recommended
.’ He pocketed the money, his doleful eyes expressing his distress at her words. ‘I wouldn’t be doing right by your father if I didn’t show concern.’

  ‘I am not a child, Master Upton. For four years was I mistress of my own household,’ she said with dignity. ‘Now, if you do not mind, I will bid you farewell. If you are so concerned for me, pray that all my endeavours on Master Milburn’s behalf will be successful.’

  ‘That I shall — and I shall pray for your safety, too.’ He stepped away from the horse. ‘I’ll have a mind, also, to keep my eyes open for that rogue who stole your mount.’ He nodded his head vigorously, setting his jowls wobbling.

  She could not help smiling wryly, wondering what he would have said if she told him who the rogue was — for surely he must know Kathleen’s foster-brother? ‘If you can do that, Master Upton,’ she said at last, ‘I shall be eternally grateful.’ She settled herself as comfortably as she could in the saddle, fleetingly mourning the loss — not only of Maeve, but of her own saddle that Niall had unbuckled. ‘But I don’t doubt that he is miles away from here by now.’ She lifted a hand, and then she and Master Brandon were gone.

  *

  Niall drew in a hissing breath as he watched them disappear down the street. He turned to Kathleen. ‘You will tell Brigid that Mistress de Wensley is leaving Naas.’ He led Maeve to the other end of the alley.

  ‘You are going to follow them?’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘I wish I could go with you.’

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ he muttered, glancing down at her. ‘What is wrong with you, girl? Didn’t I punish you enough for your last escapade? Promise me now that you will do as I ask.’

  She hesitated, then nodded. ‘Pat is to ride your horse home with me?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s exactly right. And don’t tell Brigid everything!’

  ‘No, of course not!’ She bit her lip guiltily. ‘She would be vexed with you, and I can’t abide her sulking. But why do you take Mistress Constance’s horse?’

  ‘I want to see the lady’s face when we meet.’ He grinned, and she smiled back.

  ‘She will be vexed, and might have you clapped in gaol!’

  ‘She’ll be vexed, all right, but I doubt she has the power to have me put in gaol if it is only Desmond I have to contend with. Kildare is another matter, but he doesn’t know my face.’ He vaulted into the saddle. ‘You go now and tell Pat.’ He fished in his pouch, bringing out a coin which he handed to her. ‘Go and treat yourself to whatever takes your fancy, but don’t forget to do what I’ve told you.’

  ‘I won’t.’ She clutched the coin tightly.

  ‘You can also tell Pat, when he returns from escorting you home, that it should he safe for him to return to the inn.’

  She nodded, and blew him a kiss, which he caught and blew back to her. As she vanished into the throng of passers-by, he shook his head slowly, before heading up the street towards the gateway. Already Brandon and Mistress de Wensley were out of sight, but because he knew their destination, he did not let that worry him. Perhaps he could get ahead by ways not know to them. He did not doubt that he would be able to gain entry to Kilkea Castle, and he was sure that Brandon and Mistress de Wensley could not reach there before nightfall.

  He passed through the gates, and saw a group of riders a little way ahead. Probably among them would be Master Brandon and Mistress de Wensley. It was interesting that Desmond had been mentioned, because where Desmond was, one often found the native Irish gathering. If Sil O’Toole arrived there also ...? Altogether, life was going to prove far from dull over the next few days. Perhaps it would never be tedious again, should Mistress de Wensley decide to stay in Ireland.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As CONSTANCE gazed at the rolling expanse of fertile grassland, she experienced relief that she and Master Brandon were not travelling alone. Not because she feared attack from the natives — the Wicklow Hills were now well to the east, and they were heading south-west across the Curragh — but because, despite her words to Master Upton, what he had said had gone home. What she did know of Master Brandon was that he was English, he had a taste for flamboyant clothes, and that he was in the service of the Earl of March, heir to the king of England.

  Her eyes wandered to his back, and as if conscious of that stare Master Brandon broke off his conversation with the man next to him and turned to her. ‘You are weary, Mistress de Wensley?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she lied, of necessity causing the horse to increase its speed so that they drew closer. ‘I was considering how well this country would suit horses.’

  ‘You have an interest there?’ His voice expressed surprise. ‘I would have thought sheep ...’

  ‘Sheep are my father’s business,’ she broke in swiftly, ‘and cloth is Robin’s. I have lived and breathed sheep since I was born, and I have had enough of them. No, I would breed horses.’

  ‘But if you wed again, surely it will be your husband’s decision whether you use your land for horses or sheep?’ His brows arched. ‘Sheep are much more profitable.’

  ‘I do not intend to wed again yet, Master Brandon,’ she replied stiffly. ‘It is not a year since my husband was killed.’

  ‘I understand.’ He spoke with feeling. ‘But later — this is not the place for a woman alone. So much can be achieved by choosing the right husband or wife. Judicious marriages have helped many a family to become powerful. We have talked of the Gerald family, but there are also the Butlers. The Duke of Ormonde is descended from a hereditary butler of Ireland, and it is with Ormonde that the king stays in Kilkenny.’ He paused, and she noticed how brightly his green eyes shone — like a cat’s. ‘My lord March is a great landowner — lord of Meath, Earl of Ulster and lord of Connacht who is now heir to Richard’s throne. When the king leaves this country, he will be Lieutenant of Ireland, but if Richard were to die tomorrow, he would be king of all England.’ He paused to draw breath. ‘It is an awesome thought,’ he added unevenly, ‘to consider that one day I could be a member of the king of England’s household.’

  ‘Then you would not be staying in Ireland, Master Brandon,’ she said forcibly, somewhat taken aback by the blast of his words. ‘You would be best then to look for a wife in England.’

  ‘But if one’s heart were touched ...’ He stared at her boldly. ‘You would not wish to live here permanently, Mistress Constance? What about a life at court — and with rents and dues coming in from your lands over here?’

  She was at a loss how to reply. It was obvious that he was serious in his pursuit, but how to put him off without offending him? She could hardly turn back now. Soon it would be dark, and it was planned that they spend the night at a monastery. ‘The king is only a young man. In his prime, one might say, and very much alive. He could have a son of his own yet,’ she said lightly.

  ‘We might wait a long time to see it,’ he replied good-humouredly. ‘If he weds his child bride, the Princess Isabelle of France, she is what — nine or ten years old? Besides, the match might never take place.’

  Constance did not like the way the conversation was going. ‘Perhaps not,’ she murmured in bored tones, determined to change the subject. Somehow all this talk of power and property, thrones and heirs, made her uneasy. ‘Tell me, Master Brandon, have you heard the tale of Saint Brigid and this country we are passing through? When she asked the king who owned it to give it to her, and he refused, she requested just the area then that her mantle would cover. It is said that the holy mantle grew and grew to cover the whole of the Curragh. Here she built a church and a convent, and a sacred fire was kept burning there, always guarded by twenty nuns. It was at a time, you understand, when much of Ireland was being opened to the gospel by Saint Patrick, and there was still much paganism.’ He opened his mouth to speak, but she hurried on. ‘She was never a woman of narrow interests, neither did she avoid the company of men. She asked a bishop to take up residence with her, and under his aegis a monastery grew whose monks excelled in the making of chalices and shrines and beautiful
religious objects. She was his co-equal — is that not wonderful? It is just how our Lord Jesus said it should be. Man and woman, Greek and Jew — one could say English and Irish — all are equal in Christ.’

  ‘Where did you hear such nonsense?’ he said with a touch of irritability. ‘Men and women being equal — you don’t want to believe it!’

  ‘My father has read the Scriptures, and he has told me that in Christ men and women are equal.’ She flushed with annoyance.

  ‘Is he a Lollard?’ His tones were uneasy.

  She nodded. ‘Even now he is in London in hope of reform of the Church.’

  ‘It won’t happen,’ he said firmly. ‘He would be wiser not to involve himself in such matters. It is heresy.’

  ‘All change is heresy until it is accepted by the majority.’ She stared at him defiantly. ‘I would have you know, Master Brandon, that I have been reared to accept the teachings of Wycliffe.’

  ‘It could be dangerous in the future to profess such beliefs,’ he muttered, controlling his horse as it veered too close to Constance’s mount. ‘I should not boast of it, if I were you.’

  ‘Why should I not? The king’s mother favoured Wycliffe, as did his uncle, John of Gaunt.’ Her brow furrowed.

  ‘But the king doesn’t,’ he retorted swiftly. ‘Within a few days, it is likely that he will be travelling to Waterford to take ship for home. He has been requested to return about the very matter you speak of. You would be wiser forgetting such beliefs and instead fixing your mind on gaining your kinsman’s freedom.’ Master Brandon urged his horse on to catch up with the man he had been conversing with earlier. She was left alone, and was thankful when the monastery came into sight. She retired early, tired out by the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  They left again shortly after sunrise, and she could not help noticing that Master Brandon’s manner towards her was warm again; neither of them made mention of the subject they had almost quarrelled over the day before. Instead, he amused her with stories of people he had met and places he had visited, so that she soon felt at ease in his company, but she could not help wondering whether he was all that he seemed. His clothes, his manners, the people of note he mentioned in such a knowing manner, all seemed at variance with his role of simple messenger.