by Merry Farmer
“Jack Tanner, please step forward!”
Again the crowd gasped then fluttered to applause. Jack stood where he was at first, shocked beyond reaction. It was only when one of the nobles nudged him forward that he found his power of motion and walked around the edge of the table and out to the center of the floor. Crispin nodded to him, trying hard to hide a grin. As Jack took his position he motioned for one of the castle guards to come over to him. “Go and get Ethan and his men out of the dungeon and bring them here.” The guard nodded and rushed off.
“Jack Tanner, you will kneel,” the prince commanded. Jack dropped to his knees, eyes wide with possibility, a grin spreading across his face. He felt for the rosary on his wrist. “From henceforth you will be Jack Tanner no more. Sir Crispin, I hope you don’t mind if I go parceling up your land.”
“Not at all, my liege.” Crispin bowed to the prince. He smiled at Jack as Aubrey took his arm.
“In the name of my brother, King Richard, and England, I hereby grant you the title of Lord John of Kedleridge, conferring on you the land and estates of Kedleridge and all of the rights and privileges thereof.” He lay the sword on Jack’s right shoulder. “Rise, Lord John.”
Jack climbed to his feet, stunned. He glanced around at the nobles who now applauded him, although they didn’t necessarily look happy that a peasant was now their equal.
He sent the prince a lopsided grin. “Thanks, my liege.” He turned to Crispin and Aubrey. “Did’ja hear that? Lord John of Kedleridge!” He joined his friends and Aubrey hugged him firmly. “Oy, where in hell is Kedleridge anyhow, mate?”
Crispin laughed and held out a hand to grasp Jack’s. “Right over the hill from Windale.”
“Oy! We’re neighbors then!” Jack patted his friend’s arm.
“Looks like it.” Crispin glanced up as Ethan and his men were shuffled into the room by way of the gallery above. He glanced to them with a wicked grin, then smiled mysteriously at Aubrey before stepping forward to the prince. “My liege, may I make a pronouncement?”
The prince saw Ethan and his men enter the room and nodded to Crispin. “This is your shire, Lord Crispin, administrate it how you will.”
When the assembly of nobles had settled down Crispin raised his voice. “As the new Sheriff of Derbyshire and Earl of Derby,” he glanced to Ethan as he said the words, getting exactly the kind of ferocious glare from Ethan that he had hoped his words would illicit, “I would like to appoint Lord John of Kedleridge as my Bailiff.” Again he glanced to Ethan, once more to be rewarded with the kind of shocked and angry stare at the twist of fate events had taken for them all. He turned to Jack, who was grinning smugly up at the gallery, and asked, “Will you be my right-hand man, Jack?”
Jack shrugged. “Figured I already was.”
Crispin glanced to Aubrey and then to Jack again. “What’s the point of being Sheriff if you don’t have an adversary, eh?”
Jack caught on to what the words implied and a slow, wide grin spread across his face. “Oy, it’s your call, mate,” he shrugged. “They’ll be trouble.”
“I’m counting on it,” Crispin replied. He nodded to Jack, who nodded back. Then he turned to address the prince and the room. “As my first act as Sheriff, I hereby declare that the outlaw Ethan of Derbywood and his men-” he paused again, glancing to Aubrey. She rolled her eyes. He went on. “-be released from custody and allowed to return to Derbywood.”
A gasp went up from the nobles. Ethan’s jaw had dropped open in surprise and at his sides his men were still trying to grasp what had just happened. Ethan recovered and stared down at Crispin. “This does not mean I owe you, Huntingdon.”
“Of course not, Derbywood.” Crispin grinned mirthlessly up at him. “Get them out of here!”
The announcements, surprises, and reversals of fortune were over. Everyone turned to resume their feast and the musicians began to play again. Prince John walked back to the table with a satisfied smile, feeling he had gained two strong allies. Crispin, Aubrey, and Jack took their places more slowly.
“Earl of Derby.” Crispin groaned in disbelief.
“And you thought you owed Buxton!” Aubrey raised her eyebrow and tossed him a look that was both amused and alarmed.
“Let’s not think about that yet.”
“No, let’s not,” Aubrey agreed.
“This means that you’re a countess now,” he beamed at her as she held his arm in support while they walked around the table to resume their seats. “Lady Aubrey Huntingdon, Countess of Derby.”
“I like just plain Aubrey,” she laughed.
“I’m rather fond of Lady Huntingdon myself,” Crispin grinned, heart full and calm. And even though he knew that they were in view of a room full of people, most of whom either did or would want a piece of him, he leaned over and took Aubrey in his arms, capturing her mouth with his own. He didn’t care about the land or the titles or the honors and responsibilities. All he cared about was her.
The story continues this winter with …
The Faithful Heart
Coventry, 1192
Madeline had never done anything bad in her life. Until now. She yanked the dull gray wimple off of her head and threw it behind a bush, praying that the shadows in the convent gardens would hide her. She crept through the darkness, keeping her hands and body pressed against the wall on her way to the gate. It would be locked this late at night but with the dark to cover her she might be able to climb it and make her escape unnoticed.
An owl hooted nearby and she gasped, eyes flying wide. She held her breath at the flutter of wings that followed and squeezed her eyes shut again, pressing into the wall as if she could become one with the stone. The convent garden was silent but for the rustle of the Spring breeze and the owl. Still she listened, frozen.
Only when she was close to passing out did she let out her breath and resume her creeping. Dread over what she was doing, what she had been forced to do, made every step precarious, every pebble a mountain. The gate that separated the prison of the convent from the promise of the outside world loomed like a titan in the dark. She’d worried so much about reaching it without being seen that she hadn’t given much thought to scaling it. Now that she was here its height and the thick iron spikes lining the top gave her second thoughts.
“All problems look bigger in the dark.”
Madeline yelped and spun to press her back against the great iron gate at the whisper in the night. The tiny form of Sister Bernadette shifted out of the shadows. The serene old nun stared at her as if they had met in the cloisters at midday.
“Sister Bernadette, I can explain,” Madeline wasn’t sure how she found her voice. “I was just-”
“You’ve no need to explain, child,” Sister Bernadette’s wrinkled face glowed in the moonlight.
“But-”
“If I had a handsome young man waiting for me on the other side I would run as well.”
Madeline closed her gaping mouth and blinked at the woman. She had tried so hard to be good, to obey the rules and forget what was in her heart, but Sister Bernadette knew her too well. All of her resolve, all of the fortitude she had built up since her trip to Derby, since meeting the enigma that was Jack Tanner, melted around her.
“I have to go to him,” she rushed to grasp Sister Bernadette’s hands. Tears that she had been holding back through months of prayer and punishment flowed. “I can’t live without him, Sister Bernadette. I tried, truly I did, but I can’t.”
“I know, child,” the gentle nun put one frail arm around her shoulders.
“I tried,” she repeated. “I tried to be strong when Mother Superior told me it was a sin to speak of him. I tried to forget him when father refused to let me leave the order. I tried to obey, but…,” she gulped at the memories of the confinements, the involuntary fasts, the days on end of prayer on her knees on cold stone floors all winter that had been imposed on her for her rebelliousness. “Oh, Sister Bernadette,” she broke down anew, “I love hi
m.”
“I know you do,” Sister Bernadette dropped her whisper to the mere hint of sound, walking her back to the gate. “You are young, my dear, and the hearts of young women should be filled with love.”
“But I’ve tried to fill my heart with love, with love of God,” Madeline sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeve of her threadbare habit. “It’s what my father wanted.”
Sister Bernadette patted her back. “How can a father expect his young daughter to be faithful to God when she has the love of a handsome red-headed young man?”
Madeline could only stare back at the woman. “Sister Bernadette!” she squeaked, “How can you say that?”
“Easily, my child,” she laughed with a lilt that matched the Spring breeze and smoothed a hand along Madeline’s close-cropped hair. “Was it not your Jack who used to tell you that he never thought you were a nun?”
“Yes.” The memory of Jack’s sly smile and wink as he held her close and stole a kiss, the only kiss she had ever had in her life, brought her tears on anew. Jack had flirted with her, said delicious, irreverent things to her, had even rescued her from the tower where Lord Alfred of Buxton had imprisoned her, but he had never once treated her like a nun. “Oh Sister, my father will never approve of Jack. If he finds out I’ve left the convent….”
“You were not born for this life, my child,” Sister Bernadette laid a hand on the side of her flushed face with a wistful smile. “It was wrong of your father to lock you away here. You were meant for a different world.”
“I know, but-”
Her protest was cut short by the rattling of keys. Sister Bernadette drew a loop of iron keys from her belt and stepped past her towards the gate. In nothing but the moonlight she found the key that fit the lock, turned it, and pushed the gate open.
“But what will happen to you?” Madeline gasped.
“To me?”
“What will you say when they find out I’m gone? What will you do if my father comes here looking for answers?” she blanched at the thought and glanced back towards the imposing stone of the convent, second-guessing her decision to run.
Sister Bernadette laughed. The sparkle in the old nun’s eyes reminded Madeline of why in this prison full of gloomy nuns intent on their vows she had never felt alone. “A love like yours should never fear reproach from a mere earthly father,” she shook her head. “Have faith in that if nothing else. Besides, who will tell him how you escaped?” She reached into her pocket again and took out a small coin-purse. “I think it is time I took a vow of silence.”
“Oh no, Sister Bernadette,” she tried to give the money back when the purse was pressed into her hands.
“How I choose to show my devotion is no concern of yours,” she cut the protest short. “Now go, my dear. Derby is a long way off. You have quite a journey ahead of you.”
Madeline wavered, glancing over her shoulder at the rippling field that surrounded the abbey. The nearest town was half a day’s walk. She had planned to keep to the edge of the forest, to sneak her way home to Derby, traveling at night so as not to be seen. A few coins could buy her a place on a farmer’s cart or a merchant’s wagon. A few coins could take her to Jack that much sooner.
She closed her hand around the purse and gave Sister Bernadette one last fierce hug. “I’ll never forget you,” the words caught in her throat. “You’ve saved my life.”
The old nun laughed and let her go, walking her through the convent gate and into the world. “Go now, my dear one, but be careful. You’re not free yet.”
About the Author
Merry Farmer lives in suburban Philadelphia with her two cats, Butterfly and Torpedo. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn’t have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always having something to write about. Today she walks along the cutting edge of Indie Publishing, writing Historical Romance and Women's Sci-Fi. She is also passionate about blogging, knitting, and cricket and is working towards becoming an internationally certified cricket scorer.
You can email her at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @merryfarmer20.
Merry also has a blog, http://merryfarmer.wordpress.com/ , and a Facebook page, www.facebook.com/merryfarmerauthor , and loves visitors.
Return to Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
