by Jody Hedlund
Sir Collin’s green eyes dulled with pain and yet shone with apology. “You’ll have to forgive me, my lady. I’d hoped to provide you with excitement and adventure today. But I didn’t quite plan to have it happen this way.”
“Oh, sir,” I whispered, holding his hand. His eyes closed and his face tightened with obvious pain.
The duke was the first to arrive and kneel next to Sir Collin, breathless. The lines in his regal face grooved much deeper than usual as he gently touched the arrow. When his fingers probed the point where it had entered Sir Collin’s flesh, the young knight bit back a groan.
I held my breath, praying the shot wasn’t fatal.
The duke then raised his worried eyes to me. “Are you hurt, dear one?”
I shook my head. “I’m untouched, your Grace. But Sir Collin . . .?” Fear clogged my throat, preventing me from asking if he’d live.
The duke’s expression turned grave. “’Twould appear that someone has murder on their mind.”
Chapter
10
“What have you discovered, your Grace?” I asked from the chair my servants had placed next to the large canopied bed where Sir Collin reclined against mounds of goosefeather pillows.
“My men have scoured the forestlands for clues.” The duke stood at the foot of the bed, his faced lined with weariness. He was dusty and grimy, and dressed in his hauberk and surcoat, proof he’d likely slept little if at all over the past several days. “We still have no trace of the man who might be responsible for the attempted murder.”
Sir Collin’s normally tan face was pale, but thankfully, after three days abed, the liveliness had returned to his eyes. Whatever culprit had thought to take the knight’s life was apparently not an expert bowman. He’d missed Sir Collin’s heart by several inches.
I shuddered again at the thought of how close Sir Collin had come to dying. Not only had the arrow come too close to vital organs, but he’d also lost a great deal of blood during the ordeal.
The gloomy thoughts only added to the grayness of the day. Even with the open window, the clouds that covered the sky had shifted inside and filled the spacious guest chamber I’d given to the duke.
“Perhaps we need to question some of the known criminals.” Abbot Michael Francis sat in a chair on the other side of the large bed. The flicker of light from the candle on the bedstead cast strange shadows across his thin face. I was grateful he’d been willing to act as a chaperone every time I came to sit with Sir Collin — which had been nearly constant since we’d brought him back from the fated picnic.
The sheriff stepped out of the shadows, his features creased in a scowl. “With a little persuasion, I’d sure enough glean some information that would lead us to the culprit.”
“No, sheriff.” I spoke quickly, my body tightening at the implications of his words. “We cannot arrest men on suspicion alone. We must have some proof first.”
“We have proof in their character.” The sheriff’s voice was as sharp as the arrowhead the physician had dug out of Sir Collin. While I appreciated that the sheriff was helping with the investigation, I certainly couldn’t condone arresting criminals based on character alone.
What could I tell the sheriff that wouldn’t stir more antagonism between us? My muscles tightened, and even though I knew I should handle this matter on my own, I couldn’t keep from looking at the abbot.
His hands were folded in his lap and hidden in his sleeves. His face had a pinched quality I knew came from his worry over my safety. He’d been the first to mention what might have happened had the arrow missed Sir Collin and hit me instead.
I wanted to ask him for his advice, but I had the sudden picture of Sir Derrick watching me with disapproval, his steel eyes challenging me to grow up. With a deep breath, I shifted my attention back to the sheriff. “I insist we have more physical proof before making arrests —”
“We know they’ve already given themselves over to the devil,” the sheriff said, “and usually that’s all the proof we need.”
The duke wiped a hand across his brow. “We’ll continue to make inquiries. Sir Derrick and Sir Bennet are still investigating. I’m sure, with time and due course, we shall find the guilty one.”
“I cannot understand why anyone would want to hurt Sir Collin,” I said, studying his face against the pillows. Of the three knights, I was sure he would have the least number of enemies. He seemed like the kind of man who would have a difficult time making them even if he tried.
He gave me a half grin. “Likely someone is jealous of how winsome I am.”
“Perhaps it’s possible one of the other knights is jealous of Sir Collin,” the abbot said. “Since he seems to be winning Lady Rosemarie’s heart the quickest, perhaps they decided to eliminate their competition. Maybe one of them hired someone to assassinate Sir Collin.”
The duke and Sir Collin both erupted with protest, defending the other two knights vehemently in their absence. I shoved aside the abbot’s accusation too. I didn’t know Sir Bennet or Sir Derrick well, but I couldn’t imagine either one of them resorting to such tactics.
“I’m not worried about who’s responsible,” Sir Collin said after he’d resumed his calm. He reached for my hand and his long fingers wrapped around mine, their warmth encompassing me. “I should think that I’d like to get injured more often since I’m in heaven to have you by my side all the day long.”
Even if his touch was forward and made me slightly self-conscious in the presence of everyone else, I didn’t pull away.
“I would take an arrow in my body any day if it meant I’d get to enjoy your undivided attention all the more.”
“’Tis not necessary to gain my attention so drastically, sir.”
His grin and the twinkle in his eye shared his jest. But before he could tease me further, the abbot stood, scraping his chair so that it grated against the floor. My wise counselor cleared his throat and gave a pointed look at Sir Collin’s hand holding mine.
I rapidly withdrew my hand.
The abbot pursed his lips before speaking. “Perhaps the knight’s injury is a sign from God that he’s displeased with all these activities.”
I sat forward. A sign from God?
I hadn’t considered that possibility. Was it possible that God was displeased with my intention of breaking the Ancient Vow? After all, my thoughts had been centered less on God lately and more on the young knights. In fact, I’d been so busy the past week, I’d hardly had time for my charity work.
A sick feeling swirled in my stomach.
“Sir Collin’s injury is most definitely not a sign from God.” The duke spoke directly to me as if he’d heard my anxious thoughts. “God himself instituted marriage when he created Adam and Eve. He designed the basic attraction between men and women. ’Tis natural, good, and right when young people begin the process of finding mates.”
“Perhaps right for those who cannot resist temptation to the world,” the abbot replied. “But for those who are stronger, like her ladyship, God offers a chance to do so much more for his glory.”
“Marriage doesn’t put an end to one’s ability to serve God and bring him glory.” The duke remained unruffled. “In fact, I’ve seen many married couples who have done more for God together than was possible as individuals.”
“You raise a good point, your Grace,” the abbot said, bowing slightly to the duke before facing me again. “Your parents worked well together, my child. I cannot diminish all of the good they did.”
I nodded my gratefulness to the abbot for his words to allay my concerns. However, a new anxiety had taken root within my heart. I’d vowed to be a compassionate ruler, to do even better than my parents. Would marriage and love distract me from my mission?
“Come now, Lady Rosemarie.” The abbot started toward the door. “We shall go to the chapel and pray. Prayer is always the solution for our troubled spirits.”
“You’re right, Father Abbot.” I rose, letting my gown flutter
around me on the humid breeze that blew through the window.
“You’ll offer a prayer on my behalf, will you not?” Sir Collin sat up, his gaze following me as I made my way around the bed. “I want to be back on my feet by the time of the dance.”
The abbot stopped abruptly and frowned at the duke. “You have no intention of going forward with plans for a dance, do you? Not now that one of your own has been hurt.”
“Collin’s strong. He’ll recover in no time.” The duke smiled at the young man lying within the shadows of the canopied bed. “And even were he bedridden, he wouldn’t begrudge Lady Rosemarie the opportunity to have a dance.”
The sheriff stepped forward. “I agree with Father Abbot. With a murderer still on the loose, I cannot guarantee her ladyship’s safety if you go forward with the festivities.”
The duke cocked his brow and met my gaze. “Lady Rosemarie, we’ll do whatever you wish. After all, it’s your future.”
I appreciated the duke’s deference to me, but I didn’t know what to do. What was the safest choice for everyone involved?
I resisted the urge to glance again to the abbot. The sheriff already thought I was weak, and I would only confirm it in his eyes if I asked the abbot what I should do. In fact, the sheriff’s hard gaze was trained on the abbot as though waiting for his command. He likely thought I was incapable of deciding anything for myself.
Although the thought of contradicting my wise counselor made me uneasy, I squared my shoulders. “We will continue with the dance.”
The sheriff glanced at me quickly, but I caught sight of the irritation in his eyes before he could hide it. While the duke nodded his approval, the abbot’s shoulders seemed to sag and his face creased with wariness.
“There’s no need to cancel the festivities over one incident, Father Abbot,” I hurried to explain. “Besides, we shall be inside the Great Hall and well guarded.”
The abbot stared at me for a long moment. “If that’s what you wish, my child.” His expression had resolved into one of calm resignation. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help feeling I’d somehow disappointed him.
The door banged open and Bartholomew barged in, breathing heavily as if he’d been running as fast as his old legs could carry him. “My lady,” he said between gulps of air. “I beg your pardon for disturbing you.”
The worry in his aged face set me on edge. “What tidings do you bear?”
“There’s been a new outbreak of the strange illness,” he gasped, “in town.”
Dread dropped like a ball and chain in my stomach. “Here? In Ashby?”
Bartholomew nodded solemnly.
For a moment I was too weighted down by the news to move or think. Then panic sent me into motion. “Send word to the steward to prepare a cart of food and medicinal supplies. I must go into town at once.”
“No, my child,” came the abbot’s reply. “You cannot go. It would be too dangerous.”
“I have to agree,” the duke said, his chain mail clinking as he crossed toward me. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know enough about this illness yet. And you cannot chance exposing yourself. Your people need you too much to risk catching the illness.”
My heart urged me to rush down into the walled town to help the people I loved. My parents had risked their lives to help the sick during the Plague. But the truth was, as the only heir of Ashby, I couldn’t afford to die. If I were to perish now, my lands would be divided among the neighboring lords, including the cruel Lord Witherton, who was rumored to use torture regularly simply for entertainment. I had to stay alive for as long as possible in order to assure that my people were governed kindly and fairly.
“Allow one of my men to take the provisions and medicine,” the duke continued, “but please use caution for yourself.”
The abbot nodded, his gentle eyes admonishing me to accept the council.
“Very well,” I said. “Send the cart without me.”
I hurried out of the gatehouse and onto the drawbridge, glancing behind me to make sure none of the guards had recognized me. In one of Trudy’s plain cloaks and with a basket underneath adding to my girth, I hoped I passed for my plump nursemaid.
“I’ve neglected my visit to town long enough,” I said to myself, trying to push away my guilt. “Besides, I didn’t promise the duke I would refrain from visiting. I only told him to send the provisions without me.”
Although I’d sincerely wanted to obey the advice of the abbot and the duke to stay out of town, the need to visit had been growing all through my prayer time with the abbot. I wanted to reassure the people myself that I cared about their plight. I wanted to make sure they were being taken care of. And a curious part of me wanted to discover how the illness had started in town, especially after the sheriff had reassured me that he’d made great efforts to quarantine and contain the disease to the already infected outlying areas.
I’d also felt a strange need to mingle among my people and prove that I wasn’t changing, that I was still as devoted to God as I’d always been. Besides, I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t get too near the infected, that I wouldn’t put myself in harm’s way. Surely a short visit would do no harm.
I glanced heavenward to the clouds, to the angry, swirling black and gray. Was God angry with my people or with me? The question hadn’t stopped needling me all afternoon. Why else would he allow such outbreaks throughout my land?
With the heavy basket underneath my robe weighing me down, I was breathing heavily by the time I made my way to the area where the poorest of the poor lived. A makeshift fence had been erected at one end of the deserted alley and a guard was posted in front of it to effectively keep anyone from entering the infected zone. More likely, the guard was charged with prohibiting anyone from leaving.
I ducked into a dark side street. How would I approach the area and the guard without revealing my identity?
I leaned against the side of a ramshackle hovel that had somehow escaped the illness. I drew in a deep breath, wrinkling my nose at the sourness of waste that was a constant stench in the poor district — not only from the dogs, cats, and chickens that roamed freely, but also from the human excrement that was slovenly dumped from those too busy or sick to carry it to the ditches outside of the town walls.
Down the street, a group of children played a game of chase among the refuse. ’Twould not be long before they noticed me and came closer to discover the reason for my visit.
My mind whirled, trying to formulate a plan. But before I could move, a form darted out of the shadows of the huts, and a hand slipped around my neck, quickly covering my mouth. Strong fingers clamped across my lips, blocking any sound I might have been able to make if fear hadn’t rendered me speechless.
The grip pulled me back into a solid chest, not roughly but firmly nonetheless. My captor began to walk backward, dragging me along several steps.
I tried to struggle, but the man easily pinned my arms. I knew I ought to scream, to scratch, to kick, to do anything to free myself, but the fear pounding through me was paralyzing.
What was happening?
“So you’re safe, are you?” came a soft question near my ear.
The voice was familiar, and even before my captor’s fingers fell away from my mouth and released my arms, I knew who it was.
“Sir Derrick,” I said, spinning around to face him.
He reached for my arms and steadied me, but I wrenched free and scowled at him. “How dare you frighten me in such a manner?” My body shook as much from relief at seeing him as fear at what had almost happened.
“My lady.” His face was grave, and his gray eyes mirrored the stormy clouds overhead. “I saw that you left the castle without a chaperone and only thought to offer my services.”
“If that’s your idea of how to behave as a chaperone, then I must ask that you leave me to my own endeavors.”
“’Tis not safe for you to be out on your own.”
“It was safe — it still is —”
“And what if I’d been someone more menacing, my lady?”
I couldn’t answer. Indeed, I could only stare at him.
Like the duke, he was dusty and worn from the travails of searching for Sir Collin’s attacker. But even with the grime of the past few days, his face was ruggedly appealing, the layer of scruff on his chin and cheeks darker than usual and his eyes more brooding.
“Even if your nursemaid were with you, I think it unwise for you to be wandering about town without the protection of several armed guards.”
I swallowed the lump of anxiety that rose again at the thought of what might have happened had he been the same culprit who wounded Sir Collin.
“My people wouldn’t think of hurting me.” I squeezed the words past suddenly dry lips.
“What if I’d been a man from a distant land who had no affection or respect for you?”
I couldn’t formulate a response.
Without waiting for my agreement, he parted my cloak, unhooked the basket from my arm, and took the heavy burden upon himself. Only then did the hard lines on his face soften. “I’m sorry for frightening you, Lady Rosemarie. But I wanted you to see how easily and quickly someone could accost you, and thus how important it is for you to have the proper protection when you venture outside the castle.”
I waited for him to rebuke me for coming to town following the outbreak of the illness. But his gaze held no censure this time. “I regret any distress I caused you . . .”
I got a faint impression from the glimmer in his eyes that somehow I’d gained his respect for my actions. “You only thought to teach me a lesson — one I apparently deserved and, in my stubbornness, likely wouldn’t have learned any other way.”
I glanced around the shadowed alley to the faces peeking through cracks in doors and the children who’d stopped their game to watch my interaction with the knight. None of them gave me the usual happy greetings or smiles of welcome. Instead, they watched Sir Derrick with mistrust.
