An Uncertain Choice

by Jody Hedlund

  As the duke escorted me down into the inner courtyard, speaking with me as we descended the stairs, I could feel Derrick’s attention turn on me and follow each step I took. The intensity felt as if it was burning through me, until finally I couldn’t keep from looking over at him. His gray eyes smoldered with something I couldn’t begin to understand. And when he smiled at me — ​a smile meant for me alone — ​my knees went weak. He started across the bailey toward us.

  “I can see that the two of you are looking forward to this special day together,” the duke murmured with a hint of humor.

  I quickly averted my gaze from Derrick and focused instead on Pup, who followed closely behind Derrick. “I was hoping it wasn’t quite so obvious,” I muttered back.

  The duke chuckled. “It’s a very good thing that Derrick finally planned something. I was afraid of what he might do if he had to watch you with the other two knights again.”

  “I don’t wish to harm their friendships with each other.”

  “Of course not.” The duke squeezed my hand, which was curled into the crook of his arm. “But they all knew when coming into the contest that they must fight fair.”

  “I did my best to give Sir Collin and Sir Bennet a chance yesterday,” I said quickly. “But I wish only to spend time with one man now.”

  The duke’s eyes brightened. “Then we shall make that happen.”

  I knew my words were bold — ​much bolder than I would have used under different circumstances. But always at the back of my mind there was an urgency prodding me, reminding me that time was short. With each minute that ticked away, so did my chance of finding true love. I had to make the most of every second.

  When Derrick met us, however, I was at a loss for words. What did I say to a man whose presence overwhelmed me?

  “My lady.” He held out his arm to me and his brow quirked, almost as if he knew the effect he was having on me and was enjoying it. “Are you ready for what’s in store?”

  Of course I was ready, but I couldn’t tell him that, not when he already knew it. Instead I tipped my head and gave him what I hoped was a coy look. “I think you take too much pleasure in surprising me, sir.”

  He grinned. “Life is always a little more enjoyable with a few surprises, don’t you think, my lady?”

  I smiled in return and tucked my fingers into his arm, letting him guide me the rest of the way to my horse. At his nearness, my heart thudded against my chest like a wild drumbeat. How was it that the merest contact with him could affect me so much?

  As we passed Sir Collin and Sir Bennet, who stood near the stables as well, I nodded at them and prayed they could see an apology in my eyes, an apology for favoring Derrick above them. Sir Collin’s head was covered with a bandage from the cut he’d sustained yesterday, and the bruise above Sir Bennet’s eye was black and blue. They’d battled for me, but I suspected they had lost, even if they didn’t realize it yet. Although, from the resigned look in their eyes, perhaps they did. At the very least, I was relieved that their anger toward Derrick seemed gone from their countenances, at least for now.

  Later, I would need to speak with both of them privately and thank them for their kindness and efforts during the past month. I owed them that much.

  “How did you enjoy the festivities yesterday?” I asked Derrick after we were mounted and on our way.

  He leaned toward me. “It was the worst day of my life, my lady.”

  “The worst?” I tried to feign nonchalance by studying the open field ahead, where many of my peasants were hard at work reaping the wheat with hand sickles.

  “I couldn’t bear knowing you were with Collin and Bennet.” He spoke the words I’d longed to hear. “I hope you’re not planning to spend any more time with them.”

  “And why is that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice innocent.

  “I cannot guarantee their safety should you keep their company.”

  “Then I suppose I shall have to avoid them.”

  He grinned.

  “And if you insist,” I said softly, “I shall plan to spend every day henceforth in your company.”

  “I insist.” His voice was low. I didn’t dare glance at him for fear that he would see straight inside to my heart, which was tapping too fast. Instead, I focused on what his plans for the day might be. A cart rumbled behind us. A leather covering spread across the contents prevented me from speculating what he was bringing along.

  “I cannot fault your noble friends for the fun they showed me during their special days,” I said. “Do you think you’ll be able to impress me with more than Sir Collin’s garden banquet or Sir Derrick’s art fair?”

  “Do I need to impress you, my lady?” He rode with a confidant, almost purposeful posture, one that reminded me of the strength I’d noticed in him the first day I’d met him in the market square. He glanced at me only briefly before scanning the fields and the peasants bent at work. Although his eyes were kind, there was a censure there that I was learning to appreciate.

  “You have no need to impress me, sir,” I admitted. “But you do with your honesty nonetheless.”

  He turned to me again, and this time his eyes sparkled with pleasure from my declaration. “I can guarantee that this day will far surpass anything my friends have done.”

  Though several guards flanked us and the duke rode at the rear, it felt as though we were completely alone. We traveled for some time, our conversation soon turning into an easy sharing of our pasts. He talked about the many years he’d spent fighting with the duke and the escapades he’d taken part in with his friends. And I shared more about my childhood, especially the fond memories I had of my parents.

  When we finally arrived at one of the small towns on my land, I was surprised when he led me to the poor area of town that was fenced off from the rest. From the crudely painted sign, I knew this had been one of the areas hit by the recent illness. It was eerily quiet and deserted, lacking the usual barking of dogs, laughter of children, and shouts of housewives. Derrick helped me dismount, and I followed him cautiously as he crossed past the fence. The doors on the huts stood ajar, the floors barren, the streets strangely clean of the usual refuse.

  As we walked, Derrick informed me that only one small group of destitute men had lived through the illness, and the sheriff had assigned them the task of clearing out and burning the once-infected area. Derrick called the men over so that we could speak with them and give them provisions, which I soon realized he had packed in the back of the cart.

  We repeated the process in two other towns, and by the end of the afternoon I was disturbed by all that I had seen and learned.

  “So many poor have lost their lives,” I said as we rode side by side in the shade of a glen. Slants of sunlight filtered through the canopy of branches overhead. A soft breeze brushed my heated cheeks. But nothing could soothe the ache in my chest — ​an ache that had grown larger as the day had passed. “Entire sections of each town have been wiped out.”

  “I thought my squire was exaggerating when he brought back his reports,” Derrick admitted. “But his claims are entirely true.” I’d learned earlier that Derrick had sent his squire ahead yesterday to discover how many carts of provisions we would need to bring. Sadly, we’d only needed one.

  “If I had to guess, I would have to say nearly three quarters of the poor population on my land has died.”

  Derrick nodded thoughtfully. His forehead was marked with lines of concern.

  “Don’t you find it strange that the illness isn’t spreading in a usual manner?” I asked. “Did you notice it only seemed to affect the poor districts?”

  “That same question has been troubling me since I first heard the reports from my squire yesterday.”

  As I rode along, I began to think deeper on the matter. Why did this particular illness affect only the poor? My parents’ death attested to the fact that illnesses like plagues usually feasted on rich and poor alike. I’d also found it strange that the survivor
s had all said the same thing, that the outbreak started after the sheriff and his men had visited.

  Of course, the sheriff had visited only to collect the usual taxes, as he did at certain times throughout the year. But nevertheless, the fact bothered me. “Do you think the sheriff or one of his men is a carrier of the disease?”

  Derrick frowned as if he too had been puzzling over the connection. “If so, then why didn’t the disease spread wherever those men went? Why just in certain areas?”

  We were nearing the gates of Ashby, and the tall towers of my castle rose to welcome us back. The only problem was that I wasn’t sure I was ready to be home and to end the day with Derrick.

  As if sensing the close of our time together, Derrick shifted in his saddle. His expression filled with sudden uncertainty. “Perhaps I should have planned a more light-hearted activity for the day.”

  “No,” I assured him. “The day was perfect. And you were right. It far surpassed anything else I’ve done this month.”

  The uncertainty lingered in his eyes. I wanted to reach out and span the distance between us, but instead I smiled and hoped it conveyed the depth of my appreciation for our day together. He hadn’t sought to amaze me with riches or beauty. He hadn’t tried to entertain or woo me. Instead, he’d taken me to the filthiest, poorest places to mingle among my people and help them. He’d shown compassion and insight. And he’d pushed me to do the same.

  Derrick seemed as genuinely concerned about the plight of the poor as I was.

  As we passed through the city gates, Derrick glanced to the duke and the guards, who’d fallen behind us. Then with a half smile, he drew his horse nearer so that his foot within the stirrup almost brushed me.

  He reached for my hand and slipped his fingers through mine. The tender hold made me exhale in contentment. I resisted glancing back to the duke to check for his approval. Surely this linking of our hands wouldn’t displease him even if it was rather bold.

  “You’re a strong woman, my lady.” His voice was pitched for only me. “You have earned my deepest respect for facing all that you did today with such dignity.”

  Before I could think of a response that would vocalize all I was feeling, we broke into the town square and found ourselves on the outskirts of a gathering in the market green. To my dismay, in the center the sheriff stood before a man tied to a post. The man was stretched taut, and the sheriff was in the process of pressing a hot iron against the man’s bare back. Several bright red welts already dotted his flesh.

  The instant the hot iron seared the man’s skin, his hoarse screams rose above the clamor of the townspeople who’d gathered to watch the display.

  Nausea immediately welled in my chest, but anger rose just as swiftly. “Release him this instant!” I called. And without a moment to lose, I pulled away from Derrick and charged forward on my horse.

  At the pressure of my horse bearing down on them, the townspeople couldn’t ignore my presence as they had the last time I’d tried to stop public torture. With silent fury spurring me on, I urged my horse onward until I crashed into the center green. I didn’t stop until I stood before the sheriff.

  I jerked my riding whip toward the sheriff’s outstretched arm and slashed at the hot iron. The snap and power of the coil forced him to let go of the torture instrument and drop it to the ground.

  As I worked to calm my emotions, I sat stiffly in my saddle. I sensed more than saw that Derrick had followed and was beside me. The crowd behind us had grown silent, so that the only sound was the labored breathing of the man tied to the post.

  “What is the meaning of this, sheriff?” I demanded. “You know my laws forbid public torture.”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed on me, and he wiped his hand across his dark beard and mustache, grumbling something behind his hand.

  “Watch what you say, sheriff.” Derrick’s voice was hard. “You’d do well not to insult Lady Rosemarie unless you wish to pay for it.”

  “And what are you going to do?” The sheriff’s expression turned derisory. “Are you going to cut out my tongue?”

  “As tempting as the prospect is,” Derrick said, “I respect Lady Rosemarie’s decision not to inflict torture.”

  “Oh, but yes,” the sheriff said with a thin smile. “You wouldn’t dare disobey Lady Rosemarie, would you? Not when you hope to win her into your bed.”

  With a growl, Derrick slid from his horse, unsheathed his dagger, and had the blade pressed against the sheriff’s heart before he could blink.

  I sucked in a sharp breath of panic, especially at the sight of the blood that pooled around the sharp edges of the blade.

  “Sir Derrick! Please take care,” I urged. I didn’t want him to do anything rash that he might later regret.

  At my words of caution, Derrick loosened his grip on the sheriff’s cloak. But the muscles in his arms and back were rounded with strength and anger. He bent in so that he was almost spitting in the sheriff’s face. “Your blatant disregard for Lady Rosemarie’s wishes disgusts me.”

  Derrick thrust the sheriff away with a force that sent the man stumbling backward only to land on his backside. Derrick then strode to his horse and in one swift motion was astride again. He glared down at the sheriff, who stared back just as darkly. “Be certain of this, sheriff. If you ever speak ill of Lady Rosemarie again, I will not cut out your tongue.” Derrick’s steely voice carried over the gathering. “For I shall cut out your heart instead.”

  Chapter

  18

  The nightmares came again that night, unbidden, unwanted, but certainly not unexpected.

  Restless, not only from the terrible dreams but also from all that I’d witnessed during my day with Derrick, first thing in the morning I met with Abbot Francis Michael in the chapel to pray. As much as I dreaded what I must do, I also knew it was past time to exert my authority as master and ruler over the lands of Ashby. My first act would be to discipline the sheriff. Although he’d once earned my father’s gratitude for protecting me, I had to make an example of him by taking away his esteemed position — ​perhaps even putting him in the dungeon for a time. With only a week until my eighteenth birthday, I had to let him and all my people know that I was to be obeyed.

  If I did nothing — ​as I had the last time — ​then I would prove how weak I truly was.

  Thankfully, the abbot agreed. And after prayers for strength and guidance, the abbot promised to send his messengers to retrieve the sheriff.

  As I waited in my golden chair in the Great Hall, my mind replayed all of the conversations Derrick and I had with the peasants the previous day. I realized I must not only discipline the sheriff for his disobedience, I must also question him about the outbreaks of the strange illness. After sharing my concerns with the abbot, he’d been the first to suggest that perhaps the sheriff was more sinister than he’d believed.

  The weight of my responsibility sank like heavy stones onto my shoulders. Why did becoming a leader and an adult have to be so difficult?

  The knights and their squires were seated at the side tables breaking their fasts, but I had no appetite. My stomach was wound into too many tangles. I kept my focus on the wide double doors, awaiting the sheriff’s presence, mentally trying to plan what I would say to him.

  I half-jumped when my porter, James, entered. But I sat back once I realized he wasn’t ushering in the sheriff but rather one of the hired laborers who worked at the monastery. The man approached the abbot, who was breaking his fast down the table from where I sat. After several moments of speaking to the abbot in low, urgent tones, the abbot sprang from his chair with such speed that it toppled over behind him, hitting the floor with a reverberating bang. The abbot’s eyes were round with horror. “Are you certain?”

  The hired laborer nodded gravely.

  “Do we know who the murderer is?” the abbot asked, his face pinched and pale.

  At the mention of murder, silence descended over the Great Hall and all eyes came to rest on the
monastery worker.

  The laborer glanced around the Great Hall, his gaze only stopping when he reached Derrick, who stood with the duke and his two companions near the double doors. They’d obviously anticipated some resistance from the sheriff and had planned to support my efforts to confront him.

  Derrick’s handsome face was unshaven, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. But he stood as straight and strong as befitted a knight of his rank.

  The laborer tore his attention from Derrick, shook his head, and then whispered in the abbot’s ear.

  The abbot’s eyes narrowed and the creases in his face deepened.

  “What is it, Father Abbot?” I asked.

  He turned his kind eyes on me, and there was a sadness in them that sent warning bells ringing inside. Something dreadful must have happened.

  I prayed it wasn’t another outbreak of the illness.

  “I regret to inform you, my child,” the abbot said gently, “that the sheriff was found murdered in his bed this morning.”

  “Murdered?” I rose rapidly from my chair, unable to believe that such a thing could happen. Who would have done it? Not with the fortifications the sheriff put into place around his estate. Not with his vicious dogs. Of course, I had reason to dismiss and discipline him. But murder? I shook my head.

  The abbot glanced at Derrick with a sharpness that sent a sudden tremor through my heart.

  No! The silent protest screamed through my mind. Not Derrick!

  But when the abbot turned to face me again, I trembled so that my knees almost gave way. “The sheriff’s servants found their master in his bed this morning . . . with his heart cut from his chest. They informed my messenger, here, of what happened.”

  I shook my head, too dismayed to respond.

  “The heart was found nailed to the post in the middle of the town square.”