by June Francis
‘Hell’s bells!’ Ned whirled Felicia about, trying frantically to tug the dagger from his belt. Suddenly he let her go and pushed her at the figure coming towards them. She collided into the man, who grabbed her and they both went stumbling backwards.
Edmund let out a hiss of breath and managed to regain his footing, then he spun Felicia round and put her behind him. He did not know what she was doing out here by the buttery, but she was obviously attempting to free herself from the man. He pulled out his sword and swept it in a glittering arc in front of him. Ned stepped back in surprise, and his dagger clattered to the ground. He turned and ran, shouting as he did so.
‘Damnation!’ Edmund grabbed Felicia’s hand, dragging her with him. The other man was just getting to his feet, nursing his jaw. Edmund slowed, then kicked him, sending him sprawling back against the buttery door. Felicia was pulled, resisting, behind the buttery. Edmund turned to face her. They could barely see each other’s faces. ‘Don’t have second thoughts now about escaping this castle, Mistress Meriet! I value my life too highly.’ His fingers tightened about her wrist and he hauled her into the darkness.
She went without a struggle, knowing she had no choice. The fingers of her free hand touched coarse stone as she stumbled through the long grass against the outer wall. A tree loomed up in front of them, its foliage wide-spreading and black against the sky. Then she was pulled into a space so narrow that she could barely squeeze through. There was wood beneath her hand, a key turned, and then came the slight click as a latch was lifted. The door opened silently, and now she felt cool air and could see the faint glow of a luminous darkness. Urged on by Edmund, she stepped out, while he locked the gate behind them. She gazed down at the glitter of stars on the river and had a brief flash of recall. It was her captor of the night before—as she had thought!
He gave her no chance to cry out, but dragged her down the steps. From a distance came the faint sound of men shouting. Before she realised what he was about, she felt a brief painful tug on her arm as he leapt from the steps, then his hands slid about her waist and he swung her down beside him. He began to run, dragging her behind him. She kept up as best she could, often slipping or stumbling. But always he managed to keep her on her feet by the iron-like firmness of his wrist. At last, when the breath was burning in her chest, they came to where she could see a horse outlined against the sky.
‘Up with you!’ he commanded, his eyes glinting in the starlight.
Felicia hesitated, looking up at him, remembering. ‘I do not want to go with you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I am grateful that you rescued me from those men, but our paths part here.’ She attempted to tug her hand from his grasp.
‘Don’t be foolish!’ he rasped. ‘What do you think I was doing within the castle walls but looking for you? You will pay for that blow you dealt me, Mistress Meriet.’ His fingers tightened about her wrist. ‘Now, up with you.’
‘Let me go!’ she panted, struggling in his hold. ‘I will not go with you.’
He paid no heed, but lifted her and flung her on to the horse. Before she had a chance even to raise her head, he was in the saddle, his hand pressing firmly on the middle of her back. When the horse began to move, she had to cling to the skirt of his surcote. The breeze that rippled the grass caught her veil, fluttering it out like some giant moth. She attempted to smooth it down, but was forced to abandon her efforts and renew her hold on him. The ground flashed beneath her and she had a vision of falling and her heart was in her mouth. The hand on her back grasped the fabric of her gown more firmly when she felt herself most in danger of sliding from the horse. At last they came to the forest.
Felicia wriggled, lifting her head as the horse slowed its pace. ‘Are you taking me back to that hovel?’ she gasped. He did not answer but held her more firmly. ‘At least let me sit up!’ she added. ‘I—I feel sick!’ The pressure on her spine eased, but still he kept hold of her as she carefully eased herself upright. Frustration stirred within her as his arms imprisoned hers against her sides. ‘Is there really any need to hold me so tightly?’ she asked vexedly.
‘I do not wish you to fall,’ he muttered against her ear as they entered the dark confines of the forest. ‘Now keep still and do not distract me. I need all my wits about me, wench!’
Trees swayed and creaked overhead; the undergrowth rustled and shifted. All the tales of hobgoblins, demons, wolves and witches that her nurse had told her long years ago were suddenly vivid in her mind. She gasped as she caught the gleam of eyes in a tangle of leaves, and shrank against Edmund. He, at least, was flesh and blood. She shut her eyes and weariness swamped her as they plunged further into the forest.
A lavender-scented curl tickled Edmund’s chin and brought him out of his reverie. While they had been out in the open, most of his mind had been focussed on getting under cover, for at any moment he had expected the drawbridge to rattle down and to hear the thunder of hooves. It had not happened, and he had succeeded in his aim to recapture Mistress Meriet. Yet even now he could not relax. Against all his inclinations, his senses were stirred. Her head rested beneath his chin and her body was warm and pliable against his own. Her breathing was soft and even. Had she really dozed off or was she only pretending, thinking to trick him again into lowering his guard? Incredibly, he felt like laughing, having expected her, now that they had seemingly escaped, to try to persuade him by any means within her power that she was innocent of all that he had said about her and her cousin. Perhaps she would make excuses for having hit him that morning when they reached the cottage. It was not much further now.
She stifled a yawn as he lifted her down from the horse and then grasped hold of his arm as he set her firmly on the ground. ‘It is as black as the devil’s heart here!’ she whispered. ‘Where are we?’
He did not reply but strode purposely towards the dark huddle a few yards away, aware that she still clung to him. He opened the door and with a mocking bow, bade Felicia enter. Hesitantly, she released her grip on him and entered the building, her hands clasped tightly against her chest. She felt him brush past her and the next moment the interior brightened as he lifted the iron-domed cover from the fire. When he held a rush light to its smouldering embers, the light caught and flared, lighting the room even more. The smell of rancid mutton fat came faintly to her as he set the light on the table.
‘Sit down, Mistress Meriet.’ His eyes gleamed in the flickering light, which darkened the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
‘I do not wish to sit down,’ she said in a trembling voice.
He moved towards her, and hurriedly Felicia sank on to a stool. He brought his own seat close to hers, and their knees touched. She was conscious of his eyes upon her mouth and lowered her gaze.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered, putting a hand to her chin. She tried to pull away, but his fingers were insistent. He scrutinised her face and then touched her cheek gently; he was infinitely more tender than she would have thought possible. Even so, she winced. ‘Who did this to you? Was it those men?’
Felicia shook her head, surprised at the hint of anger in his voice. His fingers ranged the full extent of the blow her cousin had dealt her, then the tip of one finger ran gently over her swollen lips. Her mouth quivered slightly. She found that sensitive touch, even though it hurt, evocative.
‘Who, then?’ He released her chin and went over to the door, picking up the saddlebag he had dropped when entering.
‘My cousin Philip,’ she replied unsteadily.
He frowned down at her and pushed back his coif, revealing his untidy mass of tawny hair. He seemed less forbidding thus. Again he seated himself close to her, in his hand a small jar. ‘Why do you suffer him to treat you so?’ he grunted, taking off its top.
‘I had little choice,’ she replied tersely. ‘Just as I had little choice when you abducted me after drugging the wine.’ She toyed with her fingers, looking down at them.
‘That was different.’
Before Felicia could resist
, he took her chin and raised her head, so that she had to look up into his eyes. She found the experience unnerving.
‘How is it different?’ she asked in a stiff voice.
He began to smooth salve on her cheek. ‘I did not hurt you. All I did was to ...’ Before Felicia could draw back, he brushed her swollen lips gently with his own.
She stiffened instantly. The gentleness of the caress filled her with confusion and uncertainty. Without realising she had done so, she had begun to relax, but now she was on her guard again.
‘Your intentions were not to stop at a kiss!’
‘You were not averse to my kisses. Or so it seemed to me.’ His mouth twisted sardonically. Slowly he trailed salve across her lips, watching the flush that rose to her cheeks. ‘Does your cousin stop at kisses?’ he murmured, straightening up.
Felicia gave an angry gasp. ‘I suffered your embraces, thinking it the only way to lull you off your guard! And it worked!’
‘So it did.’ He touched the sore spot on his head. ‘But it would not have, if your cousin’s men had not hit me so hard a few days ago.’
‘Then the saints were on my side.’ She raised her chin. ‘I am not to blame for what my cousin did to you, or to your mother, although I am sorry for what happened.’
‘Sorry?’ Edmund was suddenly angry. ‘Who are you, Mistress Meriet, to think that the saints are on your side? A whore and a murderess, that is what they say about you in your cousin’s household!’
‘It is not true!’ Felicia sprang to her feet and glared at him, angry tears filled her eyes. ‘It—is—not—true!’
‘Isn’t it?’ He rose to his feet slowly. There was a long silence.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked brusquely, lacing her fingers.
‘At this moment I do not wish to do anything with you.’ He turned and rammed the jar back into his saddlebag. ‘At this moment I am hungry and wish to eat. Are you not hungry?’
Felicia did not answer, surprised by his words. She watched him lift the blackened cooking-pot over the fire. Her nerves were taut, and she wondered how long he was going to play this waiting game. Perhaps his aim was to make her more amenable to his advances. She sat down again, determined to make him see that what he planned was just as wrong as what Philip had done to his mother.
‘Would your mother, whom you seem to have cared for so much, have wished you to seek revenge in such a way?’
The directness of her question made him still as he took bread from a crock. Setting it on a platter, he began to cut it with the knife from his girdle. He stared at her, but did not reply. Since seeing her bruised and cut face, his previous plans had been overturned. She had looked so lovely that morning before she had ran from him.
Felicia let out an infuriated sigh. ‘I am innocent of all the blood that my cousin has split on this manor!’ she cried, her hands clutching the edge of the table. ‘Why do you think I was struggling with that man? I was fleeing my cousin’s attentions. He wants Meriet, the manor that came to me after the Battle of Lewes last year. Vent your anger upon him!’ Her blue eyes flashed. ‘Otherwise soon it will be too late for you to do anything to him, for he has orders from the Montfort to go to Worcester. God willing, he will have little thought to spare for me then. A quick search of this manor, perhaps, and then he will be on his way. When Earl Simon calls, Philip goes. You know the way into the castle,’ she said rapidly. ‘Surely you could get in again? You could drug him and have him brought to justice!’
‘You talk foolishly!’ He pushed the platter across the table, and went over to a far corner of the room, bringing back a flask and two horns. ‘Even if it were possible, I have other plans.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Think, my fine lady. The castle would be no safe place now to try and gain entry. It will be teeming with men in search of us and our way out.’ He paused and took a gulp of ale, meeting her gaze and trying to work out if she disliked her cousin as much as she claimed. It was not unusual for lovers to fall out. ‘Besides, if I had wanted to deal with your cousin in such a way, I could have done so. By taking you instead, I sought to make your cousin suffer.’
‘Suffer? You think my cousin will suffer because I am missing?’ Felicia threw back her head and laughed, albeit a mite hysterically.
‘You think not?’ His voice was quiet. ‘They say he killed to have you.’
‘Have me? Aye!’ The laughter died in her face, and tears glistened in her eyes. Suddenly it seemed so unreal, talking to this man she barely knew, and who plotted revenge. She looked down into the liquid gleaming in the flask on the table and poured ale into a horn. Since morning she had gone thirsty. What was the point in trying to affirm her innocence. Let him think what he liked, this—abductor! She did not care.
Edmund moved abruptly. He had expected her to deny again her involvement in the death of Philip Meriet’s wife, and was irritated that she had not done so. Taking a cloth, he removed the pot from the fire, setting bowls on the table, and spooning out the hash of peas, barley and onions.
‘Eat!’ he commanded, holding out a wooden spoon.
She looked up then. Her shoulders sagged wearily, and the large bruise showed vividly on her face beneath its smear of salve. ‘I’m not hungry.’ She took another gulp of ale.
‘I said—eat!’ He took her hand and pressed the spoon into it. ‘We have a journey before us on the morrow, and there will be no hot food on the way.’ He sat down opposite her and took up his own spoon.
Felicia looked at him. So they were not staying here, after all. Her spirits rose slightly, and she dipped her spoon into the food. ‘What direction do we take?’
‘We go south,’ he said, breaking bread and mopping his bowl with it.
‘South? Not to Chester?’
‘Didn’t I say so? Drink up, Mistress Meriet. There will be no more ale after this, and who knows it might help you to sleep, although I have not drugged it.’ There was a hint of mockery in the softly-spoken words.
She flushed, wondering if his intent was to get her drunk so that she would put up little resistance to his advances. Well, she would fight him until her last breath. She picked up the horn, tossing off the rest of the ale.
Edmund studied her. When he had first heard of the lady Felicia Meriet she had been but a name behind which stood a shadowy figure, a voluptuous wanton with hard eyes and a cruel mouth, who had planned the death of his wife with the bestial man she had given herself to. She had in no way resembled the girl in front of him. As he stared at her, she blinked drowsily back at him. God’s bones! he thought. She looks so vulnerable: like a kitten rescued after being half drowned.
‘You can sleep on the pallet in the corner,’ he muttered, putting down his horn. There are some blankets in the chest.’
Felicia did not move. Surely she had misunderstood him? She stared at him bemused.
‘Well?’ he rapped in a harsh voice. ‘Go and rest. I shall wake you just before dawn.’
Felicia rose in one swift movement, relief showing in her beautiful eyes. ‘You-you aren’t...’ She halted, unable to go on. The colour rose in her face as their eyes held.
‘Go to bed, Mistress Meriet.’ Edmund rubbed a hand over his weary face. ‘You will be perfectly safe this night.’
Felicia could think of nothing else to say, so she turned and walked slowly towards the chest he had indicated. She lifted the lid, pulled out a blanket and wrapped it carefully about her before going to the pallet to lie down. She watched him replace the cover over the fire and blow out the light. For a moment her heart quickened its beat as she heard his stool creak, but he did not come over to her. Slowly she relaxed, and before she could ponder long over her captor’s change of heart, she was asleep.
Chapter Three
Felicia would have slept on, but whoever was gripping her insisted that she woke, and she sat up. Shivering, she lifted heavy lids and was immediately aware of her surroundings. It was cold in the hut with the chill of early dawn.
‘Come! We must g
o now. If we wait any longer, we risk being caught by Philip’s men.’ Ruthlessly Edmund pulled the blanket from her and dragged her to her feet. Felicia could barely see his features in the dim light that penetrated the opening in the thatch. She yawned. ‘Here!’ He pulled her over to the doorway and pointed to the pail of water. ‘Rinse your face!’
She hesitated, and then seeing his look of impatience, took a deep breath and splashed her face with the cold water. She gasped, but repeated the action before taking a cloth from him and drying herself.
‘I thought I heard movement outside earlier and it could have been someone spying on us from the village. Not everyone regrets that Sir Gervaise has been replaced by your cousin.’ He swung the saddlebag over his shoulder and, turning the key in the door, pulled it open.
‘You surprise me! You really think one of Sir Gervaise’s peasants would reveal your whereabouts?’ There was a tremor in her voice.
‘It’s possible.’ He went outside, scanning the clearing before beckoning her out. He lifted her on to his horse and she was conscious of the strength in his arms. This time, it seemed, he planned for her to ride pillion, although there was no proper seat, only a small firm cushion. It was not what she was accustomed to, but she was not going to complain. He swung himself up in front of her and urged his mount across the clearing in a different direction from that they had taken the day before.
The forest seemed to have no end, and the sun had risen high before they reached its limits. She wondered why they were going south and where was their destination. Surprisingly, this morning she was no longer so anxious, accepting that she had no choice but to go with him. At the back of her mind was the hope that she might have the chance to gain her own manor.
They travelled on, seeing no one, which was fortunate since they were poorly armed to defend themselves against outlaws, or worse. She gripped more tightly the straps that fastened Edmund’s cloak to the horse as the beast climbed a steep hill that ran alongside a deep narrow valley, picking its way delicately until it reached the crest, where they paused. The lowlands of Shropshire could clearly be seen and, in the distance, water. Annoyingly the sky had clouded over after a brilliant start to the day.
