"What happened, Dora?"
The girl stared at Julie's clothes, but didn't comment. “We were attacked by the lord of Norville Keep, milady."
"Sir Miles?"
The woman nodded.
"You must have had some warning, since so many of you arrived here before him.” How dare Miles persecute these poor people? Anger rose like bile in Julie's throat.
"One of Sir Miles’ men-at-arms brought us word the army was headed our way. Why I do not know. He looked familiar. Mayhap, I have seen him before."
"Oh, surely not.” Nicholas had told her he had a spy among Miles’ men-at-arms. But he wouldn't want anyone else to know this.
The woman looked doubtful. “He could just have resembled someone else."
Julie changed the subject. “Where are your men? This seems to be only old people, women and children.” She feared she knew the answer.
"When they heard Sir Miles meant to attack the village, the men sent us here. They stayed to protect our homes.” The woman dropped her gaze and a tear trickled down her cheek.
"Methinks many are dead or wounded."
Julie silently agreed. What could villeins do against knights on horseback and heavily armed foot soldiers? She could offer these people little hope of rescue since the castle's forces had no way to reach the village men.
Lady Beatrix appeared, trailed by several servants carrying large trays of food and drink. She stared at Julie, her eyebrows flying high in shock. “My lady! Where did you get those clothes?"
"I, uh, thought maybe I could help and a gown would be in the way.” Lady Beatrix would be shocked to learn Julie planned to help by fighting—if only with a bow and arrows from the wall. She would probably swoon. Before Beatrix could question her further, Julie moved away, thinking the woman would have to be content with serving bread and ale to the refugees.
Since the folks from the village were being cared for, Julie turned her attention to what might be happening outside the walls. Where was Sir Edgar?
Spying him speaking with a group of archers on the other side of the bailey, Julie hurried to join them. Edgar finished his instructions and more archers swarmed up the inside stairs by the gatehouse onto the curtain wall, quarrels mounted on their crossbows, ready to fire on command. They were relieving those whose guard duty just ended.
Sir Edgar turned and spotted her. “My lady,” he said sternly, “you must go back inside the keep. Lord Nicholas would never forgive me if aught happened to you.” He eyed her garments but said nothing. However, his expression revealed his disapproval.
"Miles and his army are out there, aren't they?” Julie wanted more information.
Edgar nodded. “He must have heard Lord Nicholas has gone to London. Mayhap he thinks to defeat our small army easily without our lord in attendance.” Julie's exact thoughts.
"Can't we send a message to Nicholas? Surely the king would allow him to come home to defend his castle. If he's hired the mercenaries and brings them back, all will be well."
Sir Edgar shook his head. “Even should a messenger be able to steal through the army surrounding us, the king is not known for putting the needs of his nobility before his own,” he murmured.
"You won't try to confront Sir Miles, will you?” Without Nicholas and the mercenaries, that could only result in disaster.
"Nay, my lady. Although I would dearly love to separate Miles’ head from his shoulders, joining battle when vastly outnumbered would be foolish. For now, we are safe within these walls. We can only hope Nicholas and the men he has hired arrive in time. Now, please, Lady Julianne, return to the keep.” His expression said he wasn't fooling, and she had overstepped the boundaries of appropriate behavior for a medieval wife.
Disappointment swept through her. After all her work, Sir Edgar wasn't going to let her help in any way. All she could say was, “I'm sure Nicholas will be back soon."
Sir Edgar nodded. “We will hope so."
Sir Harald and Robert, the accountant, joined them and Edgar looked relieved. Harald raised an eyebrow at her odd clothing, but Robert just laughed rudely. Neither asked why she was dressed like that, but their expressions revealed their curiosity.
Sir Edgar frowned at Robert—probably thinking laughter inappropriate no matter what the lady of the castle wore. “Lady Julianne thinks we should send a messenger to alert Lord Nicholas. What think you?” he said to those surrounding him. When Robert continued to stand with the knights, Julie wondered what part he played in this discussion. He was supposed to be a scholar, an expert in estate matters, not a warrior.
Sir Harald started to speak, but Robert interrupted him. “If someone goes, it should be me. If I am captured, I will not be missed in any fight. Also, I know the way to the king's palace at Westminster having traveled there many times over the years."
Edgar stared at Robert with narrowed eyes. “'Tis true, I can not spare a warrior. A scriber will have to do."
A frown creased Robert's forehead when Edgar called him a scriber. Julie wondered why that bothered him. Could Robert aspire to the knighted class?
"If I slipped out the postern gate in the dark of night, I could quickly be on the road to London with no one the wiser. Mayhap, I will be able to steal a horse."
Edgar nodded. “The plan has merit."
Julie saw Robert's frown ease into a self-satisfied half smile. Why was that? For being able to assert his will on Sir Edgar?
"Seek Lord Nicholas first at Westminster. If he is not there, inquire as to his direction. And you, my lady, must go inside where you will be safe.” Sir Edgar turned away as one of the archers on the wall called down to him.
Robert and his smug expression disappeared into the keep. Julie watched him leave. Something about Robert rubbed her the wrong way. There was the time when he appeared to be trying to communicate with the guard who had frightened Eleanor. Also, she had once found him listening outside Nicholas's office when Nicholas was conferring with Sir Edgar. And his occasional lascivious stare in her direction annoyed her. She was glad he was leaving.
Ignoring Edgar's insistence that she go inside the keep, she moved quietly to where he and the other knights were discussing their plans. She'd forgotten her ‘place’ or rather the place assigned to women in this time. Even though there were far too few archers, Julie realized now that Edgar and the others would scorn the offer of help from the girls she'd trained.
"Macho men, bah!” she muttered as she edged slowly into a position where she could overhear Sir Edgar and his knights making plans. As far as Julie could see, they were just rehashing the only options open to them. Their greatest hope was that Robert would reach Nicholas, who would then appear at the rear of Miles’ army with the new mercenaries. Then Sir Edgar could send his men outside. Miles would be caught between two armies.
With a sigh, Julie walked across the bailey toward the stairs to the battlements. If nothing else, she could satisfy her curiosity about the strength of the opposing force.
Sir Edgar quickly appeared at her side. “Where are you going, my lady?"
"Up on the wall. I want to see this army for myself."
"That is not wise, Lady Julianne...” Edgar began.
Julie tossed her head. She couldn't shoot with the archers, but she could go look. “I will keep my head down, Sir Edgar. I wish to keep it as much as you wish to protect it.” Probably more so.
Edgar's dark blue eyes stared down at her and his mouth thinned into a stubborn line. “I am sure Lord Nicholas would not thank me if a stray arrow killed or injured you."
"Then I shall be extra cautious. Please, Sir Edgar.” She laid her hand on his hard arm. I'm not the delicate lady I appear."
Finally, he gave a reluctant nod. “Be very careful, Lady Julianne."
"I will,” she promised. Tilting her chin, she climbed to the top of the wall. She selected a crenellation not being used by an archer and crouched down. Cautiously, she peered out at the enemy camp. The sight was far from reassuring. At least one
hundred men, both knights and men-at-arms, filled the meadows just far enough away to avoid being picked off by Barstow's archers. She spied only one siege machine, a trebuchet, but perhaps others were on the way. She realized the vast difference between what had been only pictures in books and movies, and the reality before her. Her heart began to pound, so she ducked down and took several deep breaths to calm herself.
As her gaze swept along the battlements then down into the bailey, she could see how few men Barstow had to pit against the enemy. They were outnumbered more than two to one. If Miles should attack, the archers could never keep up with the onslaught of arrows from their opponents.
An idea formed in her mind. Should an attack begin, she would gather her women and join the fighting no matter what Sir Edgar said. He'd be too busy to notice. Excited that they might be able to help, Julie hurried off to alert Gwyneth and Lily.
She found them in the great hall, helping pile food onto the large trays the servants were taking outside to feed the villagers. “I think we may be needed after all,” she said with a grin.
"Now, here's my plan."
The other two listened, then began to smile and nod their heads.
His squire and two men-at-arms close behind him, Nicholas entered the inn he'd selected, a hand on the hilt of his dagger. Danger frequently lurked in a place such as this.
The smoke from a poorly ventilated fire hung just below the blackened ceiling beams and the place smelled of unwashed bodies and stale beer. A few candles did little to dispel the gloom. Toward the rear of the room, he found a cluster of men with broad shoulders, muscular arms and swords buckled at their belts seated at a crude wooden table. They glanced up, their hard eyes taking in every detail of him and his men. He had found what he sought—experienced mercenaries.
"Are there any here wishing gainful employment?” he asked, his hand still resting on his dagger. It was prudent to take care in such a place as this.
A tall, powerfully built man with a broken nose stood and faced Nicholas. “What be ye offering, milord?"
"A good wage for good work. I need men to augment my small army."
A chubby man with a head covered in yellow curls stared up at Nicholas from two bright blue eyes. “So, who be ye?"
"Lord Nicholas de Montclair, Baron of Barstow."
"Near Cambridge?” The tall man spoke this time.
"Aye. I need skilled fighters. Could I interest anyone?"
"For a goodly pay,” muttered a different speaker. A murmur ran around the room and in a moment, other men crowded close behind the first group.
"For a goodly pay,” Nicholas agreed. He named a price and was pleased by the response. Nearly every man in the tavern signed on, making his mark after the name Nicholas penned for him with a lump of charcoal on a piece of parchment.
Looking up, he said, “I am also in need of several more knights."
The big man, who said his name was Rannulf, spoke up again. “Ye may find them at the Hound and Fox, milord."
"I will go there next.” Nicholas stood and rolled the parchment with care so as not to smudge the names. As he turned to leave, a buxom girl flung an arm around his neck.
"Need ye a maid to warm yer bed, milord?” She had red hair and plump breasts trying to escape her gown's low neckline. At one time, Nicholas might have been tempted. But not now. Not since Julianne, or did he really mean not since Julie? Shamed flooded through him.
"Maid, is it?” scoffed Yellow Curls. “Ye've not been a maiden for half a score."
The girl heaved a wet wiping cloth at him. He caught it and laughed.
Nicholas smiled. “Not this even, lass. I have much work to do."
Rannulf gave her a shove. “Off with ye, Bessie. Milord wants none of the likes of ye."
She glared at him. “Ye've got no manners, ye mangy goat, not like the pretty lord.” She flounced off muttering to herself.
Nicholas turned his gaze to Leonard. “Make arrangements to meet these men here at dawn, then take them to Barstow.” He handed Leonard the parchment roll with the men's name. “Give this to Sir Edgar."
He turned back to Rannulf. “You strike me as a leader,” he said in a low voice. “You will be the sergeant in charge of these men. I will pay you more for doing so, but make no mistake. I will have value for my money."
Rannulf grinned, displaying stained and blackened teeth, as well as some empty holes. “Ye'll not regret your trust, milord. I have led men before."
Nicholas smiled back. “I thought the air of command hung about you.” He reached inside his pouch and produced a small bag of coins. “Distribute these fairly among those who have made their mark for me. Sir Edgar of Newington, who commands the Barstow men in my absence, will recompense you all in the future."
Rannulf hefted the leather bag, doubtless assessing its content by weight. “Thank ye, milord. Yer a generous man. I sensed it the first sight I had of ye."
"Be ready to fight,” Nicholas warned him. “My demesne is threatened by a would-be usurper who covets all I own."
"I be your man, milord."
Nicholas nodded and left the tavern, relief flooding his mind. He had located a large number of soldiers and a good man to lead them. Now, for a few more skilled horsemen.
The hour was late and Julie's head ached. She'd spent the day tending to the needs of the village's women and children. Finally, everyone had eaten and found a place to bed down for the night. All the castle's linens and blankets had been distributed. Exhaustion had overcome the crowd and quiet reigned at last.
Julie stood at her window, gazing at the fields this side of the forest. Fires burned and an occasional shadowy figure moved about. The single trebuchet loomed like a pointing finger at the night sky. Would Miles’ men begin hurling huge stones or fiery missiles at the castle walls tomorrow? Strangely they had done nothing today. What was Miles waiting for?
Julie closed the shutters. Autumn was here and the night air held a chill. But it wasn't the air that caused the shiver that shimmied down her spine. Not too strange, considering what lay outside the castle walls.
"Gwyneth, I'll wear my longer shift to bed tonight.” Usually she slept in a short one, but the uneasy feeling of a moment ago gripped her again like a recurring bad dream.
"Are you unwell, my lady?” Gwyneth looked anxious.
"No, I just want a little additional warmth.” She did not add that Nicholas would not lie beside her tonight, his heat keeping her comfortable and somewhat contented. He would not be happy if he knew she coveted his warmth, not when he tried so hard to separate himself from her.
The girl nodded and helped slide the garment over Julie's head. Then Gwyneth turned back the coverlet and brought a goblet of watered wine. Of course, she should avoid alcohol while carrying the baby, but in this time the water, unless boiled, was often unfit to drink. Also, to get more calcium, Julie had taken to adding some boiled goat's milk to her diet, incurring puzzled looks from the people around her.
After taking a few sips of the wine, she handed the cup to Gwyneth and pulled the fur coverlet up around her shoulders. The weather worsened by the day and soon the snow would come. She wasn't looking forward to winter in this drafty castle, not with the cold seeping under and around the shutters. Never had she appreciated good glass windows like she did now.
"Do you want anything else, my lady?” Gwyneth inquired, setting the goblet within reach on the bedside table.
Just Nicholas’ love. But she couldn't say that to Gwyneth. The girl was already too curious about their relationship.
As Gwyneth turned to leave, there was a tap on the door.
Julie frowned. “See who's wandering around this late.” Her long day had caught up with her and she stifled a yawn.
Gwyneth pulled the door open a crack and peered out. “It's Lily,” she flung over her shoulder. “My lady is abed,” she announced to the older woman.
Lily didn't bother to argue, just pushed past Gwyneth. “I need to speak with you alone
, Lady Julianne.” She glanced at the lady-in-waiting who still hovered in the doorway.
Gwyneth sniffed. “Oh, do not be putting on such mysterious airs. I know when I am not wanted. Besides, I have no wish to hear your news, whatever it might be."
Julie stifled a giggle. Gwyneth was dying to know. Julie had never met anyone more curious than she was. “Goodnight, Gwyneth,” she said gently, then slid down farther until the fur coverlet covered her nose.
Gwyneth sniffed again, then left, closing the door none too gently.
"What can't wait until tomorrow, Lily?"
"I have something to tell you, Julie. I cannot explain it, so you will have to trust that I have my reasons for what I'm about to say."
Julie lifted her eyebrows. “More dire predictions?"
"If you choose to view them that way.” Lily's serious expression caught Julie's attention.
"All right. I'm listening."
Her friend leaned over the bed. In a soft voice she said, “Something bad will happen soon and I want you prepared."
Julie shot up, only avoiding bumping Lily's head by an inch. “What are you talking about?"
"I am giving you the amulet. You will need it."
Julie reached for and squeezed her friend's hand. “Will it take me home?"
"No, but it will help you in another way. You must accept my words for what they are—a warning. Be very, very careful."
"A warning?” Julie whispered, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Strange events occurred when Lily was involved.
Lily squeezed her hand, then turned and left the room without another word.
"Well, I never!” Gwyneth exclaimed, bursting through the door Lily had just closed. “That woman has her nerve, frightening you."
"You heard?"
Gwyneth nodded, her cheeks an embarrassed pink.
Julie sighed and lay back down. “It's all right, Gwyneth. Just ignore Lily. She's always been a bit strange."
"Humph.” Gwyneth straightened the coverlet, fussed around for a minute, and then finally left Julie alone, a single candle to keep her company.
Shutting her eyes, Julie tried to snuggle deeper into the featherbed, to think only of Nicholas, to forget Lily's odd words. But so many strange things had happened in the last few months, and Lily had been involved in them all. It was a long time before she slept.
The Amethyst Amulets Page 20
