by June Francis
She jumped violently as he undid the first one, and he stopped. Not so quiescent, after all. An unbidden thought surfaced in his mind. What if the rumours were not true? Suddenly he imagined he could hear his mother’s screams of protest, and his breathing quickened, his fingers curling against Felicia’s breasts.
She was aware of his distraction and was at a loss what to do. Was this the moment when he would move her away from the wall to the floor? She would have no defence then, so she acted in the only way she could think of to hold his attention; deliberately she pressed her body against his. She shivered as he let out a scornful laugh, hating him in that moment for thinking she was so acquiescent, but she responded to his kiss, not resisting as he tugged several more of the fastenings undone. As he began to nuzzle her throat, she opened her eyes, shaken. The unwelcome thought that here was the man who could have ... the unspoken sentence remained unfinished and was swiftly quashed. He wanted to use her for his own ends as surely as Philip did, and she would be better rid of both of them. She swiftly lifted the pot from the wall, and before Edmund could realise what she was about, brought it down on the side of his head.
When he let out a groan and slowly crumpled to the floor, Felicia was completely taken aback, not expecting him to collapse so instantaneously. She hesitated, then realising that now was not the time for second thoughts, she dragged her skirts free from his outstretched arms and made for the door.
It opened quickly to her fumbling touch, and she tossed a thankful prayer heavenwards as she came out into a sunlight that winked and flickered through the golden-green foliage of massive trees. She sent a glance round at the oaks and hornbeams that seemed to march on and on, with no end in sight. Which way? She must go swiftly before he regained his senses. Not towards the castle: any place, rather than back to her cousin. There was no sound of huntsman or forester to guide her, no sign of peasants coming to gather kindling for their cooking-fires. Even the birds did not sing here. Where was she? How deep in this forest?
Her eyes fixed on some shadows beneath the trees. Because of the sun’s brightness she had not seen the animals at first, but now she raced to where they cropped the grass. Her legs were shaky, and her heart was jerking in her breast. There were two horses: one, a chestnut, a lovely beast; the other dun coloured. She spoke soft words as she approached them. The chestnut backed away, snorting, and without hesitation she turned to the other. Her breath was jagged as she heard the sound of scraping feet coming from the cottage, and with a determined hand she grasped the horse’s mane and dragged herself up onto its back.
Edmund caught but a brief glimpse of a shapely white leg as he stumbled out of the hut, and then she was gone into the cover of the trees. He wiped the back of his hands across his cheek, where blood trickled, A bitter smile twisted his mouth. She had tricked him properly! He whistled, and the chestnut lifted its head and came trotting to him. His head was still muzzy from Felicia’s blow, which had landed on the still sore wound inflicted by Philip’s men. Swinging himself into the saddle, he urged his horse across the clearing.
Felicia found it difficult at first to prod her mount into anything more than a steady trot, however hard she dug in her heels. God only knew where the horse would take her. She glanced about her, fearfully, knowing herself completely lost. Here and there the summer sunshine reached down, lighting bluebells, now fading from their blue intensity. As a low-hanging branch loomed in front of her, she ducked, swaying slightly, fastening up her gown. Her cheeks burned as she remembered how he had touched her.
Hoof beats sounded behind, and she urged the horse on. The man was not going to take her against her will without a mighty effort. Her days of being meek and mild were over! The ground began to flash past more swiftly, as, heedless of the danger, she whacked the horse on its flank. Branches caught at her veil and greening brambles snatched and rasped her skirts. The trees seemed to go on endlessly, then she heard the clear piping of a blackbird near at hand. Then more birdsong, and the snuffling of swine as they delved for food. The trees began to thin out. Felicia’s heart lifted. She was safe. Safe from her abductor, and from her cousin Philip.
Blinking in the bright sunshine, she saw ahead the waste and pasture where cows grazed under the watch of a cowherd. A village huddled not far from a river. Approaching across the waste were a handful of men and beyond them, the towering grey-white walls of a castle. Frantically she tried to wheel about as the men in red livery with a black saker hawk clearly displayed on their surcotes fanned out so as to cut her off. A sob rose in her throat when a mailed fist snatched at her horse’s mane. Before she could utter a word of protest, she was surrounded by her cousin’s men. Her mount had returned to its home village.
Edmund brought his horse, snorting and blowing, to a hasty standstill amid the trees. He saw Felicia being surrounded, and knew in that moment that the wiser course would have been to lose himself in the forest. She would tell them what had happened to her at his hands, and they would come searching. He was surprised when the whole group of men surrounded her and took her back towards the castle. He ran a thoughtful hand across his stubbly chin. Once more the lady had surprised him. He dismounted and took some salve from his saddlebag to deal with the cut on his head. His gaze remained on the men and the girl heading towards the castle. Come nightfall, he planned to enter the castle grounds again.
The spidery shapes of watchmen took form as Felicia and her escort approached the castle walls. Cold despair, heavy as iron, weighed on her spirits. Yet she held her head high, despite knowing that she was a prisoner once more. She clattered ahead of them over the drawbridge and on beneath the stone archway of the gatehouse, ignoring the men’s presence. Unaided, she dismounted, giving the horse into the hands of a young groom, who stood gaping at her.
‘Be kind to him,’ she called before moving in the direction of her bedchamber. Suddenly she realised that the courtyard was busier than it should be at that hour in the morning. What had happened in her absence? Men were dragging lances and shields from the store beneath her chamber. The air was filled with shouts and the rumble of wheels as sacks of flour and haunches of meat were loaded into carts. As she ran a hand jerkily down one of her braids, her spirits rose slightly. It seemed that her cousin was on the move again. She forced a path between the bustling men towards the stairway that led to her chamber, intending to change her clothing before she confronted Philip. Reaching the foot of the steps, she bunched her skirts in one hand and ran up, wondering how much grace she would be allowed before he demanded her presence in the hall. By the time she had pushed open the heavy wooden door, her breath was coming in gasps. She stepped over the threshold, and came to a halt.
‘Well met, coz!’ The figure in the blue surcote dropped the scroll he had been reading on to the chest at the foot of the bed.
Felicia put out a hand to the door jamb to steady herself. It was quiet, after the noise in the courtyard and she stood there for several moments, her eyes not leaving Philip’s face. He stretched out a hand and plucked a leaf from her veil. ‘Where have you been? Not romping in the hay, I hope?’
‘You jest,’ she said lightly, forcing down her fear. ‘Haymaking is not until the end of June—as you would know if you spent more time on your own manor!’ She backed away, intending to leave the chamber, but he grabbed her sleeve and jerked her to a halt.
‘Do not play games with me! Your bed has not been slept in, nor were you to be found anywhere in this castle or its grounds this morning.’
His nails bit into her skin through the fabric of her sleeve. She was uncertain whether the truth would perhaps serve her best. Fleetingly she recalled what her abductor had said about her cousin, and how he had looked when he had spoken of his mother’s rape and death. Then, without fully understanding why she did so, she lied.
‘I have been somewhat anxious about my complexion lately,’ she murmured. ‘I rose early, wanting to wash my face in the dew.’ Her voice faltered as his eyes gleamed wrathfully. She n
oticed that his jowls were just beginning to thicken and there were pouches beneath his eyes. How had she ever considered him handsome? Or ever believed herself in love with him? The memory of a lean face and compelling grey eyes came to mind even as Philip’s fingers tightened on her arm.
‘You lie! You have a lover, haven’t you?’ Felicia caught her breath as his fingers pinched her flesh cruelly. ‘I left you too long alone after Matilda’s death, answering Montfort’s bidding.’
‘I do not!’ she shouted. ‘You are hurting me, Philip!’ She stamped on his foot. ‘I am not a serf to be treated so,’ she added in a furious undertone, her control snapping.
‘Why, you bitch!’ His mouth twisted unpleasantly, and he hit her across the face.
Felicia fell back against the chest, stunned. The taste of blood was in her mouth and her ears were singing. Never had he hit her so hard before. Squeezed and pressed as though he were playing some game with her, but never this. She now realised that she was in real danger.
‘I shall treat you in any way I wish,’ he declared, leaning over her, his hands clamping on her shoulders. ‘Your father and brother can no longer protect you. Always I regretted Mark being born, and I was glad when your mother and her baby died.’ He laughed. ‘Did you know, dear coz, I grew up with Meriet’s praises sung in my ears? My father loved the place. Now it is yours, and I would deal with you both the way I wish.’ His hand slid to her throat, and tightened. ‘I would wed you, dear coz.’ His voice was almost gentle.
‘That is impossible,’ gasped Felicia. ‘For cousins to marry is against the teaching of the church.’
‘So it is.’ Philip frowned slightly. ‘But there are always those who are willing to go against such laws—for money or advancement.’
‘No!’ she cried, attempting to drag herself free.
‘No?’ His grip tightened. ‘You were willing to belong to me once, sweet coz, yet you showed no sign then of the woman you are now. Now tell me where is this lover of yours?’
‘There is no lover,’ she said in a choking voice, her face throbbed, and her lip stung. ‘How I hate you!’
Slowly, surprisingly, he loosened his grip. His eyelid twitched several times and absently he lifted a hand and rubbed it, before releasing her. ‘At last the gloves are off! I thought there was more to you than the insipid creature you appeared to be these last few months. Yet, you would be wiser if you did not make me angry.’ His dark brows furrowed. ‘Listen to me, and I think we could deal well together, sweet coz. They say hate is akin to love. You will be mine before I leave.’
‘Leave?’ Felicia’s eyes flew wide.
‘Do not look so pleased, Felicia. I shall definitely have to make sure of you before I go to Worcester. Earl Simon has sent for me, but I will make time for you.’ Philip moved more swiftly than she could think—or dodge his groping hands. He forced her back until the wooden frame of the bed pressed against her hips. She gave a cry as he suddenly released her, causing her to overbalance and fall on the bed. She could smell his sweat and over-sweet perfume, and was filled with panic.
‘Relax, coz,’ he whispered against her cheek.
‘I hate you, and I would rather die than submit to your will,’ she said stonily, controlling her fear. ‘You are a beast that you would force yourself on me.’
‘A beast?’ He stared down at her. ‘Any other maiden I would not have delayed so long in the taking—but, believe me, I have feelings for you. I do not really want to hurt you.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’ She looked up at him, her eyes hard blue.
‘It surprises me, too.’ He laughed. ‘To show you that I am not the beast you think, coz, I shall not take you swiftly like the beasts in the field, but shall woo you this night. Montfort can wait a few hours more.’ He moved away from her.
She rolled off the bed and stood up, shaken.
‘Prepare yourself for me,’ Philip said with a sudden frown. ‘I shall soon banish the thought of any other lover from your mind. I shall bed you tonight.’ He turned and went out of the room, taking the key and locking the door from the outside.
Chapter Two
Felicia felt as though in some nightmare. Her limbs were without form, filled with black ice, unable to move. The thump of Philip’s feet receding down the stone steps, seemed to come from a great distance. At last she stirred, reaching for the cloth in the pouch hanging from her girdle, and dabbed at her cheek and mouth, staring as a crimson stain spread on the linen. She sank slowly on the bed and gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling. Slowly she searched for a way out of her predicament. She thought of the man she had run from and wondered where he had gone when she had been taken. Fled, most likely—yet he did not look the sort of man who would shrink from danger. How had he taken her out of the castle? She began frantically to think—to seek some way out of her terrifying situation.
Shadows, like grey veils, gathered in the corners of the chamber. Only the light penetrating the narrow window opening enabled her to see the sewing she worked at to take her mind off the fearsome thoughts that plagued her. It was quiet outside, except for the occasional call from a guard on the walls. She had changed into a yellow silk under gown with long sleeves and a high neck, over which she wore a dark brown linen surcote. About her throat she had fastened a long veil that also covered her head. As she pulled the thread through the fabric, she took deep steadying breaths.
The sound of heavy feet on the steps brought her heart into her mouth. Her fingers trembled as she stabbed the needle deep into the cloth before putting it aside. Her fingers slid down the riband on her girdle. Swiftly she cut off the scissors that hung there and slipped them up her sleeve.
‘I do not wish to be disturbed. Tell the men to pay no heed to any noise from this chamber.’ There was a harsh laugh from her cousin.
Feet clattered down the steps as a key grated in the lock, then the door crashed against the wall. Her cousin stood swaying in the doorway, his bulk a deeper blue shadow against the darkening sky. He lurched into the room and pushed the door to clumsily. It did not quite shut.
‘Here I am, coz!’ The words were slurred as he staggered towards her.
Felicia did not reply. She slid the scissors carefully into her palm, surprised that her cousin appeared intoxicated in the light of his plan for her.
‘Would it not be best to wait, Philip?’ Her voice quivered. ‘If you gave me more time, I might be willing to do as you wish.’ She pressed herself against the wall furthest from the bed and slid along it away from him. There was a slight flurry of cool air against her ankles and her skirts fluttered.
‘Liar!’ he muttered. ‘Do—Do you think you can dissuade me?’ He lunged, and caught hold of her. Twisting, she lifted the scissors and thrust them into his arm.
Philip let out a screech that seemed to hit the stone walls. Felicia tore herself from his grasp and did not hesitate, but flew across the room and out of the door. He stumbled after her, clutching his arm, but she was too quick. Out she went, pulling the door shut and turning the key shutting him in. She fled down the steps, barely seeming to touch the stone. Without pausing at the bottom, she darted into the shadow of the keep and stood there, her heart pounding, listening to Philip hammering on the door and cursing her.
She glanced up at the walls and saw men’s heads turn but they made no move to go and see what the noise was about. She realised why, and sagged against the wall, laughing silently, her hand against her mouth. She laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. How long she stayed there she did not know, but at last the storm of tears and laughter ceased. She stood motionless, thinking. Earlier, there had come into her mind a blurred vision of a darkened river. Had her abductor taken her out of the castle that way? Was there a door in the wall in the direction of the river? Perhaps she could find it if she were left undiscovered long enough. She began to creep along the keep wall, glad that there was no moon. When she turned the corner and neared the buttery, the rear door in the keep suddenly opened, and befo
re she could step back a man came out. She tensed, praying that he would not see her.
‘Hurry up with that ale, Ned!’ A tousled dark head peeped out of the doorway, and an arm holding a rush light.
‘I’m doing my best, Peter. Hold that light a little higher. It’s dark out here.’
The blood pounded in Felicia’s ears as the man held up the light, and she shrank against the wall. The movement was only slight, but it was enough to send the light fluttering as the man turned in her direction.
‘What was that? I thought I saw summat.’ The man called Ned turned, swinging the pitcher he carried. ‘Hold that light a bit further this way. I thought I saw ... There, I saw it again! Quick!’
Felicia darted away as he made a grab for her, but Peter had already sprung forward. He grasped her shoulder. ‘Let me go!’ she hissed, spinning round and holding aloft the scissors.
He stepped back hurriedly. ‘Now take it easy, Mistress. I don’t mean you any harm.’ He held up his arms warding her off, and glanced quickly at his mate. ‘Weren’t you saying this one was a witch?’ he muttered. He crossed himself swiftly and made a circle with his finger and thumb.
‘Dunno,’ said Ned uneasily. ‘She might have got out of this pile last night, but she was captured easy enough this morn. But what’s she doing here? I thought the master was ... You know.’ He lunged forward suddenly as Felicia turned her head in her effort to keep her eye on both men. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she dropped the scissors. ‘We’ll have a reward for this, Peter,’ he laughed, pinning Felicia’s arms behind her back. ‘Don’t know how she escaped him, but...’
‘I beg you,’ she pleaded, struggling. ‘Let me go. I could reward you if you helped me to escape.’
‘It would be more than our lives were worth,’ he growled. ‘Peter, you’ll have to get the ale. I shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Very well.’ Peter took the pitcher and turned towards the buttery. But as he reached the building a black figure sprang out of its shadow and, before Peter could do anything, he was sent sprawling to the ground.
