by His Ransom
He blinked again, her face must have shown her displeasure. She looked down at her hands as if they were the most important things in the world. When she looked at him again she had control of her face.
“And then,” she said more calmly, “What would he do? Where would he go? Would anyone give a Frenchman passage to France or give him shelter in England?” Although now she thought about it, it would not be that hard. There were pirates all along the coast who were all too prepared to do business with anyone. But first he had to know where to go and how to make contact with them and he had to be able to pay either with money or physical skill and he had neither to offer at the moment.
Guy shook his head. He had disappointed her and she would not heed his warning.
She sighed and patted his arm. “But I will take your warning seriously. I do not believe he intends to kill us all, but I will remove the poisons from the still-room and lock them away.”
“But he could make some more,” protested Guy, encouraged by her words.
“No,” said Rosamunde, more sharply than she had intended. “I do not believe we have the right plants in the garden to make more until spring and Margaret keeps the still-room locked when there is no one there and she supervises Richard when he is there with her. He does not go beyond the castle walls unescorted.”
Guy nodded and departed, but she knew that by tomorrow he would have thought of a better way Richard could kill them all in their beds. Once again she wished that her father had been well enough to make the voyage home before winter set in. He would have known exactly how to deal with Guy and the French prisoner.
She pondered for a long time her discussion with Guy. She had accepted Richard because her father had accepted him and because Thomas had accepted him and because she wanted to believe that he was worthy of her trust. Guy had opened her mind and she began to wonder what Richard’s plans were.
“I have no plans,” he said that afternoon when she asked him. “I am your father’s prisoner.” He smiled, but she knew the reminder pained him.
“But you will not be a prisoner for ever. There will come a time when he will decide that the ransom has been paid,” she protested.
“My father is a count,” said Richard, “The duke expected a great ransom for him. I doubt I can give him the value of that ransom if I serve him for the rest of my life.”
Rosamunde was horrified. “You expect to spend the rest of your life as a prisoner.”
He shrugged. “I have no expectations, only the hope that your father will grow bored of having me as a prisoner.” Rosamunde knew that that was unlikely. Men could be very patient when it came to a ransom. She knew her father better than Richard. His only hope was that her father had made some money from the other prisoners or that he had taken plenty of prize money.
Still, she did not think he would hold Richard for long. He would be useful in a siege, but after that there was no contribution he could make.
“You will not be mistreated here.”
Richard shook his head. “No. You have been most kind, most generous, but I will always be the enemy.”
Rosamunde knew that this was true. Whilst she might be inclined to trust him, others would not.
He had not spoken of marrying again, of raising a family and she wondered what else he had given up when he gave up his freedom.
“What would you have done if you had stayed in France?” she asked.
The question surprised him.
“I will never be a proper soldier again. I thought I might be a physician, but I am old to start learning that way.” He smiled, but it made him look even sadder and she suspected that he had wanted to be a physician for more than the last few months.
“You will not inherit from your father?”
“No,” he said. “There are three healthy sons from his first marriage. Philippe is the heir. We impoverished ourselves to ransom him a few years ago.”
“So, it matters not whether you stay here or return south.”
“I cannot go home,” he said. “Do you think my father would welcome the son who shamed him?”
“It is his own shame, not yours,” said Rosamunde hotly.
“No,” he said, at last and she was not sure whether he was agreeing with her or disagreeing. “I have no home there.” She knew that he had not answered her question. A crippled solder was of no use to anyone and he must have given much thought to his future. She supposed he had discounted marriage since few noble women would look at a penniless cripple, regardless of how well-born or handsome he was. It would probably be kinder if her father did keep him prisoner.
Rosamunde did not think he was lying, so she believed that Guy was mistaken and that Richard was trustworthy. Nonetheless she did instruct Margaret to remove the poisons from the still-room and to lock them in the chest in Rosamunde’s bedchamber.
It was Richard who suggested that since the soldiers had to train hard to learn what they would do when the enemy came, so the people in the town should also train.
“But what should they practise?” asked Guy, who had become even more willing to question Richard’s suggestions since his failure to convince Rosamunde that the Frenchman wanted to kill them all.
“Getting safely into the castle,” explained Richard.
“They can do that without any practice,” said Guy dismissively. He glanced at Thomas, his disdain for the suggestion showing on his face. He seemed taken aback by Thomas’ expression of interest.
“Can they?” asked Richard. “If they are being chased by men on horses with swords at night and if we are trying to keep the soldiers out? How will they act in the confusion? How will they know which way to run? Do they know how to keep out of the way of mounted soldiers?” Richard knew only too well the chaos that followed a surprise night attack. His leg bore witness to that.
Richard knew it was unlikely that the siege would start like this, but he thought it best to be prepared. If Rosamunde feared that she could be made to surrender by the capture of a few people in the town, it would be as well to ensure that that could not happen. So Rosamunde agreed that the townspeople must train to ensure their safety, but refused to allow Richard to go and explain to them what must be done. “They will ignore you,” she explained patiently. “Guy can go, for they trust him.” Richard was not insulted. Of course they would trust Guy. They knew him. They did not know Richard. He knew it had been unreasonable to expect Rosamunde to let him go, but if he was to stay here he needed to get to know the people and they would have to learn to trust him.
Rosamunde was unhappy because she could not go herself and explain to her people how she planned to protect them. The people in the town knew that a siege was expected. They had seen the preparations. They had seen their animals removed along with their friends and family who could be transported elsewhere. The few that remained were scared.
Guy went into the town and explained about how they should take refuge in the castle and what the various signals would be at different times of the day. The townspeople knew that, although the castle had not been built for their protection, they would take shelter there in times of trouble. But Richard had been correct. It took a long time for that number of people to cross the moat and find safety within the castle walls.
Chapter Five
Rosamunde woke the next morning feeling tired and unhappy. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to rest. She had been scared by the slowness of the townspeople to cross the moat that afternoon. Many had still been outside the castle walls when Richard had judged that had the castle really been under attack they would have had to shut the gates. No one had been happy. Guy and Thomas had gone down and spoken to the burgesses and emphasised how important it was that they look out for the signal and react immediately. The second time they tried it had been slightly better, but still a large number of people had been left outside. Although they would practise again over the next few days, she feared that some would be captured and held to ransom by Sir Walter should
he choose to besiege them actively, rather than try to get her out of the castle by guile. She knew that she could not allow one of her father’s people to suffer for her and that she would surrender herself if any of them were taken. They were not soldiers. They served the duke and received his protection in return. She felt very strongly that she had taken on all the duke’s responsibilities on his departure and she saw that she would fail him if she failed them in any way. Sir Walter knew her well enough and she did not doubt that he would know that she would wish to save her people, regardless of what it cost her. Sir Walter might not have much imagination and he certainly did not care much for his own people, but he had noticed before how interested Rosamunde was in the welfare of her father’s serfs and tenants.
The lack of sleep made her irritable and she snapped at her maid when she came to dress her at the usual time. She decided to break her fast alone in her room, having no desire for company but found that she had little appetite. She could not settle with the women as they sat and sewed together and so she paced restlessly through the castle alone trying to see if there was some way out of this situation. She had considered fleeing to one of her father’s other estates, but none was as well-provisioned or fortified as this one. The inland estates had sent more men to France and were not as easy to defend as the castle. There would be few men to spare and fewer still would be proficient soldiers. The garrison here was relatively strong. Besides, they had sent for more men when they sent the townspeople to Dorset, although it was unlikely that they would arrive before Sir Walter. She had even considered going to London and asking the king to protect her, but she would be vulnerable on the journey and she could not know what the king’s response would be. His mind was on France, not on the marriageable daughters of his earls. It was possible that he would leave her to her fate or arrange a match for her himself. No, it would be better to stay and rely on the strength of the castle and its garrison to protect her from Sir Walter.
She had just decided, once again, that she could do no more than obey her father and remain in the castle, trusting in Thomas, Richard and Guy to protect her when she ran into Richard. He was returning from his training in the courtyard. He had not washed or dressed and his chest was bare.
“Oh!” she turned away from him, but she had seen enough. He had a muscular chest, covered with dark hairs and she felt the stirring of desire within her at the sight of it. She resisted the impulse to turn back and look her fill.
“I am sorry, Lady Rosamunde. I thought all the women were in your solar, otherwise I should have dressed before I left the courtyard. I am to bathe this morning,” he finished lamely.
“I am sorry, sir. I am restless this morning and I have been prowling like a feral cat.” She wondered briefly why she was trying to make the fault hers. He was the one strolling around the castle half-naked as if he had not a care in the world. “I was not looking where I was going, otherwise I should have seen you in good time.”
She turned back to him, carefully looking only at his face. He was breathing heavily as if the effort of climbing the stairs had wearied him. She, in turn, was finding it difficult to breathe. She was also warm, as if taken with a fever.
“You look tired. You did not sleep well?” She was surprised, but gratified by his concern. His voice was softer than usual.
She sighed, glad to think about something other than his naked torso. “I worry about my father’s people. It is a heavy charge. I should not like any of them to suffer because of me.”
He nodded. “You worry that Sir Walter will harm them.”
“They were so slow yesterday,” she said pensively. “I am sure that he will capture some and hold them to ransom.”
He frowned. “Does he know you so well, Rosamunde?” She was taken aback. There was an accusation in his voice and the gentleness was gone. She took a step away from him. “Yes. He has been a frequent visitor while my father has been away. Guy has always been with me, but I have to be hospitable to a guest.” She felt strangely defensive, but she had always been careful to make sure that she had done nothing that could not be related to her father or Simon on their return.
“He has been spying out the castle’s weaknesses in case anything should happen to your father or Simon.” He seemed saddened rather than surprised at her stupidity. “He has been preparing for this for a long time.”
She gasped. “Surely not!” Neither she nor Guy had suspected a thing, but then, neither of them practised deceit and neither possessed a particularly suspicious nature.
“It is no less than I should have done in his place,” he said in a slightly more conciliatory manner.
Rosamunde was shaken and felt faint. That someone should be so taken by desire that he could do such a thing! Then she realised what Richard had said. He understood Sir Walter; he would have done the same thing. How little she knew of Richard. Guy had been right; she should be on her guard against such a man. She must have swayed for she felt Richard’s hand at her elbow. “Are you well, Rosamunde?” She felt his breath on her cheek as she turned slightly towards him.
Her lips curled, but it was not to smile. “I slept little and now I find that I have aided my enemy. No, I am not well. I am not managing this well.” She did not mention that she felt dizzy and was grateful for the support his hand provided.
Richard made a formal bow, although he kept a tight grip on her elbow. “My lady, you are doing very well in your father’s absence. Few men could do better. You are right; The demands of hospitality have to be met. You cannot be blamed if Sir Walter does not live and fight within the rules. He thinks to come against an unprotected woman, but he will find that he has made a mistake and you are very well protected.”
This time her smile was real. “Do you think so?” She looked eagerly into his face and was rewarded with a rare smile that made him seem even more attractive.
He nodded and gripped her elbow more tightly, his expression becoming grim once more. “Do not fear, Rosamunde. He will not get close to you. Thomas, Guy and I will die before that happens and each of us is a match for Sir Walter.”
“No!” she protested before she knew what she was doing, reaching her hand up to his chest to admonish him, then pulling it back as she felt his warm flesh. “I would not have any of you die for my sake.” She pulled away from him and the sudden movement made her dizzy again, but he did not seem to notice.
He looked confused and turned his face away from her. He gathered himself and put the whole force of his attention on her. “But surely, you realised that that was why I was sent here. Your father would rather that a French cripple died before his trusted retainers.” He spoke of his death as calmly as if he was discussing the planting of the fields.
Now it was Rosamunde’s turn to be confused. “But…” Then her mind caught up with her tongue. He was right, of course. Why else would her father have sent him? If her life was his ransom why should his life not be forfeit for the ransom his father had failed to pay? All her romantic fantasies about him were wasted. He had been sent here to die if necessary. Once her father returned he would release Richard, if he survived the siege, and he would be lost to her. Either way, he would leave her and she would be alone once more. And she knew that whatever else happened, she did not want to lose Richard. He had become dear to her and she did not want him to return to France. Despite his many protestations to the contrary, she knew that he would have no choice once he was a free man again and she knew that her father would not keep him prisoner for long. Richard was far too dangerous and the other men who had stayed in the castle were already jealous of him. And if he died it would be worse. Her heart would be broken if she lost him. She trembled and Richard grasped her around the waist. “Are you ill Rosamunde?”
“I feel faint. It is stupid, I know….” and she swayed again. Richard caught her up in his arms and lifted her easily.
“I shall take you to your chamber and fetch your maid.” She could not help resting her head against his bare shoulder.
She felt so weak that she knew she must fall if he set her down. How odd that he should have such an affect on her. He pulled her close against his chest and she murmured appreciatively before she could stop herself.
He limped heavily as he set off and she knew that even her small weight must be troubling his leg.
“Please,” she whispered, “Please set me down. You will hurt your leg.”
“It is of no matter. Put your arms around my neck.”
She obeyed him, meekly like a child; she could do nothing else. Her will had deserted her along with her strength. As she nestled against him she felt safer than she had ever felt before. This was where she belonged. It was this thought that distracted her as Richard walked through the castle to her chamber. She ceased to be aware of anything except the feel of his skin against her face and the rise and fall of his chest against her body. Despite his limp his motion was steady and he moved quickly. They reached her chamber too soon and he set her down on her bed. “I shall find your maid and return quickly,” he said and then he was gone.
She did not know what to think. In truth, she could not think and she fell into a troubled doze in which she dreamed that the castle and the town had been fired and people were dying all around her. At her feet was a bloodied corpse, lying face down. Even before she bent down to turn him, she knew that it was Richard. She awoke with a scream on her lips, only to find herself held against a powerful chest by strong arms.
“Richard?” He was stroking her hair gently, as if to smooth away the fear.
“You were having a bad dream, Rosamunde.” His voice was low and gentle and she was comforted. She slumped against him, too tired even to hold herself up. He must have forgotten that he was stroking her, for he continued and she did not think to remind him that he should not. She could not concentrate on anything but him and the dream she had had.
“I dreamt that everyone was dead, but me.” She shivered, though whether from the memory of the dream or from his closeness she could not tell.
