April Munday

by His Ransom

  As the siege wore on, many days saw the loss of one of Sir Walter’s men to the archers stationed on the castle walls as they moved between the buildings just below the castle walls. Each day Sir Walter set fire to a different part of the town to the increasingly great grief of those within the castle and tempers became increasingly frayed.

  After one particularly vicious fight in which one of the townspeople had attempted to stab one of the gatehouse guards after a quarrel over food, Rosamunde decided that she could no longer afford to distinguish between townspeople and garrison. They would both have to live under the same rule and receive the same rations. She called the burgesses to her and told them what she was about to do. Their faces fell and she wondered whether they had now persuaded the townspeople that the only reason they had the greater share of the rations was because they had talked her into it. Once the burgesses had become aware that the garrison rations were smaller than those of the townspeople it had quickly become common knowledge. Rather than allow the burgesses to interpret her orders, she decided to make her own announcement that evening in the hall.

  After the evening meal she stood in her place and quiet fell across the hall.

  “There have been many disturbances in the past few days,” she announced, “And I fear that they give comfort to our enemy when he should be afraid of us. We should not be fighting among ourselves. We should be fighting him. Therefore I have decided that since we are all inside the castle walls we shall all follow the castle rules. I appreciate this will not be easy for everyone, but it is necessary for you to see that there are no favourites and everyone is treated equally and that we all depend on one another.” The silence grew heavy. “From tomorrow,” she continued, “The young men will join the garrison. They will work when the garrison works and sleep when the garrison sleeps. The young women will be assigned to various tasks in the castle as befits their station and we will all have the same rations.”

  There was some dismay at that, but Rosamunde did not allow herself to be distracted. She paused, hoping that no one would see her hesitation before she announced, “And because they no longer have any responsibilities I am disbanding the burgesses.”

  There were gasps and three of the burgesses leapt to their feet. They had not been expecting this. But Rosamunde had decided that the burgesses were causing more trouble than anyone else, so she thought she had no alternative.

  “You cannot do this,” said Robert Tyler, “You do not have the authority.”

  “I can and I do,” she replied, coolly. “What need is there for burgesses at the moment? To all intents and purposes there is no town.”

  “But we protect the townspeople,” he protested.

  “No,” she responded, “I protect them. They are my responsibility and I take it very seriously. I will not have you causing dissent. William Archer can join my advisors and may meet with us each morning, but I have no need of the rest of you.

  Robert rose from his place and came to stand before Rosamunde. “You cannot disband the burgesses,” he repeated.

  “Are you threatening Lady Rosamunde?” asked Thomas, standing up.

  “There is no doubt in my mind that he is threatening her,” said Richard and before Robert could respond Richard had drawn his sword and had the blade at Robert’s throat. Richard appeared not to notice that the blade had nicked Robert’s skin so that a small red line of blood trickled down under his tunic.

  “I will put you somewhere where you cannot cause trouble,” he said, looking pointedly at Rosamunde for her permission. She inclined her head. Robert’s hand went to his knife, but he was too slow for Richard who caught it and brought the wrist down on his knee so that Robert dropped the knife. Rosamunde held her breath, but the time Richard had spent with Margaret had not been wasted and he retained his balance. Robert sagged into submission and allowed Richard to lead him from the room. Rosamunde wished she had done something similar long ago, for she knew that she would not have much trouble from the burgesses from now on. She knew that Robert had allies among the townspeople and she knew that they could cause trouble, but she had made it more difficult for them to do that without anyone noticing. She had also demonstrated that retribution would be swift where there was transgression and that would also help her to maintain order.

  The weeks dragged on with no resolution to the siege. Christmas came and went with little to celebrate. The twelve days of Christmas were even more miserable than they had been the previous year when Rosamunde had felt the loss of her father most keenly.

  The first snow of winter fell the week after Christmas and it cheered the castle’s defenders, for they knew their besiegers would be uncomfortable. They had destroyed so many houses that there were no longer any structures strong enough to provide shelter. They would also be cold, for they could not go far to find fuel, for the men from Dorset had arrived and harried any who left the town. This group was of such a size that Sir Walter would have to send enough of his army after them to make those remaining vulnerable to an attack from the castle. They also had the advantage that their leader, who had grown up in the castle and been sent by the duke to manage his estate in Dorset, knew the countryside and could hide easily. Sir Walter’s men would be cold and miserable. It was cold in the castle, but Rosamunde kept the fire in the hall alight so that there was somewhere that the old people and the children would know was always warm. Now, more than ever, the life of the castle centred on the hall.

  During the weeks of tedium she came to value Richard even more. He worked tirelessly with Thomas and Guy to find ways to keep the garrison busy. Instead of relaxing the men’s exercises, they increased them. Archery practice was also increased and the best boys from the town were placed around the walls with the archers the duke had left behind. Thomas reasoned that they would be keen for revenge on those who were destroying their homes.

  True to his word, Richard had stayed close to her. He slept on a palliasse outside the door to her bedchamber in case Sir Walter should decide to attack during the night. While Guy escorted her to her morning meal, Richard and Thomas trained, then Richard followed Margaret’s régime for his leg. Then he was constantly at her side, whether she was working with the ladies, dealing with the burgesses or discussing supplies with the steward. Everyone knew why he was there and Rosamunde felt that people were a little dismayed when they saw them together.

  Chapter Eight

  It was the week before Candlemas and Rosamunde was considering how best they might celebrate it. She knew that the people within the castle needed something to raise their spirits. They had been enclosed together for almost three months and Christmas was now six weeks in the past. February promised to be as dark and cold as January had been and Easter seemed a long way off. Snow had covered the ground for more than a month.

  It would be at least another six weeks before they could reasonably expect the return of the duke. This was known to everyone in the castle and, she assumed, to Sir Walter. There were still no signs of a final attack and Rosamunde began to hope that there would be none. There could hardly be time now for him to take the castle except by a full assault and he did not have the resources for that. They were surely safe now; they had enough supplies to last him out.

  Rosamunde, Margaret and Thomas were discussing plans for the celebration of Candlemas when Richard found them in the duke’s solar.

  “Please, Rosamunde,” he said excitedly, forgetting to bow as he usually did, “Please come up to the wall, something is happening.”

  Immediately Rosamunde left the room to go with him. She was desperately afraid. Sir Walter had obviously decided to make his move after all. Their efforts had been for nothing and her father would return home to find his castle in ruins, his people dead and his daughter the wife of a man he could not respect. She became somewhat calmer, however, when Richard insisted that they stop at her bedchamber so that she could put on her warmest cloak. The need was obviously not as pressing as she had thought at first and she began to b
reathe again.

  When Richard considered that she was warm enough they went up onto the wall. There had been another fall of snow in the night and the walls were slippery under foot. “Let me help you,” said Richard, putting an arm around her waist to steady her and she was comforted by his strong presence.

  Rosamunde no longer had any fears about his ability to bear her weight should she slip. Despite her earlier prediction, Richard’s leg was healing well and it looked as if he might eventually be able to ride a horse properly, although she feared it might be some time before they could test this theory. The thought gave her some hope as she realised that she was thinking about something good that would happen after the siege.

  When they got to the top of the wall Rosamunde did not have to wait for Richard to point out what had so excited him. An army was marching along the coast road from the east. It was perhaps two or three hundred men strong.

  “Reinforcements,” she whispered, once again overwhelmed by a feeling of dread.

  “I do not think so,” said Thomas. He smiled at Rosamunde, although she could see that he was worried. “Sir Walter surely brought with him all the men he had.”

  “Then allies,” suggested Richard, doubtfully.

  Thomas considered that possibility. They had previously discounted the possibility of Sit Walter having allies prepared to engage in such an action. It would certainly demand a devastating response from the duke, who had the men and the engines of war to punish those who took up arms against him. It might even attract the attention of the king. “Can anyone see the standard?” he asked. It would help them to know the identity of the man who led the small army.

  Richard shook his head, “No, they are too far away.”

  From the activity in the town below, Rosamunde realised that Sir Walter had also become aware of the approaching army, although it was hard to tell whether he was expecting friend or foe.

  “Sound the alarm,” said Rosamunde. “It may be that they bring with them siege engines and they are numerous.” She could not see any, but the baggage train that always travelled with an army was still out of sight.

  Thomas left to obey her command and Rosamunde stood with Richard’s arm still around her waist looking out at the approaching army. She wondered whether he knew that he still held her. A sudden desire to place her own hand on the hand that held her swept through her, but she did not move. Such an act would alert Richard to his own inattention and he would release her.

  “Do you carry your knife?” asked Richard.

  She nodded, forcing herself to concentrate on his words. They had been this close many times before when he had been teaching her, but she had never been as aware of him as she was now.

  “And you remember what I taught you?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning to look up into his face. “I remember everything. You have been a good teacher.”

  “Then I stay at your side until this is over.”

  Rosamunde bit her lip, remembering her dream of his dead body. She knew now that she loved him and did not want to think of any harm coming to him. But although he was much healed, he was not particularly agile and in any prolonged fight he must come off the worse.

  “My lady!” The shout from the tower brought her back to the problem at hand. Nick, a young boy form the town had been sent up into the tower, for his eyesight was better than anyone else’s in the castle. “I can see the standard!” he shouted.

  “Describe it to me,” Rosamunde called back.

  “It is the king’s standard!” she said in surprise, before he had got very far. Why had the king chosen this moment to send a messenger to the castle? It could not be the king himself, since the negotiations with France must be taking up all his time.

  ”This could be another trick of Sir Walter’s,” warned Richard.

  “I know.” She looked down at the army camped below in time to see a rider leaving under a sign of parley. He rode up to the approaching army and then rode back with three men. By the time they arrived below the castle walls Sir Walter and some of his men were also mounted. Rosamunde saw that one of the men wearing the king’s colours was a herald. When he reached the castle wall he took out a roll of parchment which he gave to Sir Walter, who had followed him there, so that he could inspect the seal. Taking it back, he broke the seal, unrolled the parchment and began to read loudly enough for those on the castle walls to hear.

  After the usual greetings came the king’s message.

  “It has been told to me that Sir Walter of Linn has undertaken to lay siege to the castle of my loyal subject William, Duke of Winton for the purpose of forcing Lady Rosamunde de Winton to become his wife against her own will and against that of her father. Sir Walter is hereby ordered to abandon the siege and to give himself over to Sir George de la Chapelle the bearer of this letter and to accompany him to Westminster where I shall decide upon his punishment.

  Signed this day Edward, King of England.”

  It was a short letter, but it meant that the siege was over. Rosamunde sagged against Richard in relief and felt his grip on her waist tighten in response. The army that backed up the letter was enough, with the castle garrison, to put Sir Walter’s men to flight. Although there still lingered in Rosamunde’s mind some doubt that it had actually come from the king. It was possible that in the three months of the siege Sir Walter had thought of another ruse to make her leave the castle and what better way than to make her think she had been rescued by the king. Sir George was a friend of her father’s, however, and she recalled that Sir Walter had met him at the castle some years before. It would be a good choice if he wanted her to believe that she had been rescued.

  “At last,” said Thomas who had come to stand beside her on the wall.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. She turned towards him carefully, still not wanting Richard to relinquish his hold on her. Thomas was smiling so broadly that she had to smile in return, despite her doubts.

  “I did not tell you in case nothing came from it, after all the king has other worries, but your father sent a messenger to London to ask for the king’s help should Sir Walter lay siege to the castle.”

  “Of course,” said Richard, remembering the rider who had left the ship the moment they had docked, “Martin.”

  “Yes,” smiled Thomas, “Martin was sent to the king with a letter explaining what the duke thought would happen. “He thought the king might not believe him, or, believing him, might not have the men available to help him immediately.”

  “He has come to our aid,” breathed Rosamunde.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Then we must go down and greet our rescuer.”

  As she turned, Rosamunde slipped in the ice and Richard tightened his hold on her. “It would be a shame to come to harm now, Rosamunde, when there is no longer anything to fear from Sir Walter.” His breath was warm against her ear as he spoke to her as privately as possible.

  “I shall be more careful,” she promised, steadying herself against him. Through all the layers of clothing keeping them warm, she felt his laboured breathing and wondered again at what it must cost him to bear her weight. It seemed as if the effort must tire him, but she did not want him to let her go. If anything, his hold on her tightened as he helped her down the steps. He seemed to be bearing all her weight and she felt as light in body as she did in spirit. He did not release her until they were in the bailey, where the snow had been cleared to make a path to the gate.

  Sir George was already at the gatehouse when they arrived. Rosamunde recognised him and knew that he was no part of any deception arranged by Sir Walter. She ordered the gate open and curtsied low as he entered.

  As she raised her head, he entered the bailey and presented her with the king’s seal for her inspection. He was accompanied by Martin, who received a loud cheer from the people in the bailey. Rosamunde glanced at him and smiled, then returned her attentions to the duke.

  “I am most grateful for your aid,” she said, curts
eying formally again.

  “I was pleased to come, Rosamunde. I was with the court when your father’s messenger arrived and I was dismayed to think that the daughter of my old friend should be in such danger.”

  Rosamunde read the letter quickly, although she did not doubt that the herald had read its contents accurately. “Come and eat with us,” she offered once she had finished, extending her father’s hospitality to his friend.

  “Thank you, but later, if I may. I must see that my troops are settled. But there is one thing I should say to you before I go. Sir Walter said that he has merely come to claim what is his, but has been denied him.”

  “What do you mean?" asked Rosamunde, puzzled, suspecting yet another trick.

  “He claims that you were promised to him before you were betrothed to Simon de Purlieu.”

  “That is not true,” protested Rosamunde. “I was never promised to Sir Walter. He came to ply his suit, but my father did not approve of him.”

  “So the matter cannot be settled until your father returns.” The duke seemed dissatisfied with this answer, as if it upset plans of his own.

  “So Sir Walter will go unpunished,” said Richard flatly. Although Rosamunde detected an edge to his voice that no one else seemed to notice. He stood close behind Rosamunde, closer than etiquette allowed, but he was her own bodyguard and she felt safe with him almost touching her.

  The duke looked hard at Richard, startled by his accent. His eyes narrowed as he looked him up and down, taking in the twisted leg. “He will be punished. But we must wait for the duke’s arrival, since Rosamunde’s word is not enough.” Richard snorted, as if surprised that any man should require more than Rosamunde’s word. Thomas also protested, but weakly, knowing that a knight’s word would count more than that of a mere woman.