by June Francis
His eyes narrowed, became blue slits. ‘If that is your decision I cannot force you into accepting my help. I can only say that you have a long and dangerous road ahead of you. Sleep with that thought in your mind, Lady Catherine.’
She was surprised by his acquiescence, having expected him to try and bend her to his will. Had he done so she would have been happier with the decision she had made because it would have proved her right not to trust him. She pinned a bright smile on her lips. ‘You tell me what I already know. I bid thee farewell, sir.’
For some reason her words caused him to smile. A smile of such singular charm that, for a moment, the breath caught in her throat and her chest felt tight. ‘I said I will escort you back to the hostel,’ he said, picking up the mantilla from the bed and placing it over her shorn hair before she could prevent him. ‘Keep this. There are those who might think your hair has been shorn because of some great sin now you seem to have lost your hat. You’re far too pretty for a youth.’
Tears pricked her eyes at the compliment and the gesture. Clearing her throat, she suggested that they set out immediately.
With a shrug, he placed the mantilla on the bed and opened the door. He escorted her down the steps and along the quickly drying streets at such a pace that she decided she had been wrong about his intentions and that he could not be rid of her quickly enough. When they reached the hostel he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss in its palm before bidding her adieu.
Kate watched him go, aware that the palm of her hand tingled where his lips had touched it. She dismissed the sensation as of no consequence and went indoors. She had missed the evening meal and hunger gnawed at her innards. She did not expect to rest that night, but, as she relived the events of the day, she drifted into sleep.
She woke as the fingers of dawn filled the sky. Her mood was melancholy, almost fey, her head filled with the remembrance of dreams of knights who slew dragons, beautiful maidens and evil men, of prehistoric stones, flint knives, blood and incantations.
Kate shivered. Would she ever forget the events that had led to the death of her father? He had been a secret follower of the old religion, believing trees, rocks and rivers contained spirits that spoke to him. If only he had not got involved in Sir Roger’s frightening mixture of nature worship and a dual god and devil, who demanded a blood sacrifice. She must not think about it; less chance, then, of the truth accidentally tumbling from her lips.
Her stomach rumbled and she told herself to forget the past for now. She needed fresh air and food. Rising from her pallet, she put on her sandals and left the sleeping quarters and hurried downstairs. The front doors were already open and a monk was brushing the steps. She walked outside and took a deep breath, flinging her arms wide as if to embrace the morning.
She almost jumped out of her skin when a male voice said, ‘Good morn to you, my Lady. My path lies in the direction of La Coruña, where we can take a ship to England. I have an early start in mind and it would be a delight to take you up with me…that is, if you’ve had second thoughts about traversing the hot plains of Castile and risking the mountain passes into France again?’
Kate’s eyes darted towards the man sitting on the steps of the cathedral. ‘How long have you been there?’ she demanded hotly.
Owain rose to his feet and approached her with an easy grace. ‘Long enough to make sure you would not leave before I could speak to you again. It is a foolishness for you not to accept my escort. I understand your reluctance to place your trust in me and return home.’
A bitter laugh escaped Kate as she stepped into her dead mistress’s shoes. ‘It was once a happy house, but after my marriage it was as if a dark shadow crept over it.’
‘A house can be exorcised. Running away doesn’t solve anything, my Lady.’ His gaze held hers. ‘Trust me with the truth and I will do my uttermost to help you.’
Her eyes flashed blue-green fire. ‘You don’t understand. I might have died had I stayed there.’
‘Why would you have died?’
She wrapped her arms about her and stared into his strong-boned face. ‘I cannot tell you. I would like to trust you, but…’
Owain said seriously, ‘I would like to trust you, too, and I will if you show some trust in me.’
Her heart beat fast as she continued to stare at him, considering her options. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she frowned. ‘Why should you not trust me? Did they say I killed him by magic?’
‘Your reeve and those who work on your manor spoke only good of you, but much that was bad about your husband.’
The muscles of her face relaxed. ‘Did what they say give you a picture of the kind of man he was?’
‘I know the kind of man he was. I met him several years ago when in France with one of my brothers.’ His expression was suddenly bleak.
She was curious. ‘You have brothers?’
‘Two alive…one dead.’ He forced a smile. ‘You will come with me?’
She did not return his smile, telling herself she must try to behave distantly towards him. ‘I am hungry. Do you have any food, sir?’
His smile deepened, causing tiny creases to fan out at the side of his eyes. ‘I will purchase some whilst you change your garments.’
They returned to his lodgings where he left her alone. It was obvious that he at least trusted her not to run away.
Chapter Three
Owain returned to the bedchamber, bearing several small loaves, slices of smoked pork, cheese, oranges, all wrapped in a napkin, as well as carrying a jug of wine mixed with water. Kate was wearing the green gown and, once again, he was struck by the difference it made to her appearance. He placed the food and jug on the table.
Immediately Kate settled herself on an upright chair, arranging her skirts carefully, and reached for one of the loaves and tore a piece from it. She placed a slice of smoked pork and cheese on the bread and bit in to it with her small teeth.
‘You are hungry,’ he said drily.
She slanted him an amused look but did not speak until she had swallowed. ‘Before I answer any more of your questions…who are you, sir? I must know your name if I am to travel to La Coruña with you.’
Owain dug a leather travelling cup from one of his saddlebags and filled that and the earthenware cup on the table with wine and water. He nudged one of the cups towards Kate. ‘My name is Master Owain ap Rowan. My family breeds horses in the Palatine of Chester. I have travelled Europe, buying and selling horses. I have also fought in the French wars and served as a supplier of horses for the King’s master of horse whilst abroad. At this moment I serve Sir Thomas Stanley, who was in attendance on the King before he lost his wits. It was his initial suggestion to the King that I look into the matter of your husband’s death and your disappearance along with that of the Fletcher family.’
Kate had stiffened at his mention of Sir Thomas Stanley. ‘Who has lost his wits? Sir Thomas or the King? I tell you now, Master ap Rowan, your words alarm me. Sir Thomas is a powerful man and his manor at Lathom lies too close to Merebury.’ She bit savagely into the food.
Owain frowned and a lock of curling black hair fell on his forehead. ‘It is the King who has lost his wits, but what I’ve told you was decided before that happened. I understand your concern about Sir Thomas, but he is sympathetic towards you.’
Her expression hardened. ‘I do not want the sympathy of any Stanley. I see Sir Thomas’s concern only as a way of taking Merebury from me.’
Owain was not surprised by her reaction and pondered on how to reassure her whilst he broke his fast. ‘The King has already granted him the authority to oversee your manor. He had no choice after your disappearance. You are now the ward of the King and your manor is in his gift. Once your innocence is proved, then he will find you a husband and he will take care of you.’
Kate’s fingers toyed with her cup and she was stony-faced. ‘I want no husband.’
Owain frowned. ‘I understand your feelings, my lady, bu
t these are uncertain and dangerous times in England. You will need the protection of a husband. I assure you not all men are as Sir Roger.’
‘And what if the King does not regain his wits, will it be Sir Thomas who will decide my fate?’ she demanded.
‘It could be the Duke of York, but he might leave the task to Sir Thomas, who, I assure you, really does want what is best for you.’ He scraped the back of his hand on his unshaven chin. ‘Be reasonable, my lady. You have no one else to look to with the Fletcher family dead. You have no kin and, from what I’ve discovered, your husband positively discouraged you from having visitors or your visiting outside your manor.’
Kate said heavily, ‘It is true what you say. The Fletchers were the only true friends I had. They cared much for me, as I did them.’
‘Then your grief for them must go deep. It is a terrible thing to lose those we care for. I still grieve for my grandmother.’ He reached out a hand and covered hers.
Her fingers tingled at his touch and her heart raced. ‘I appreciate your sympathy,’ she said, a mite breathlessly, ‘but I wish fervently that you were not in the pay of Sir Thomas. Power and pride in rank and possessions are all the Stanleys care about.’ She was remembering all that her mother had told her about them.
‘That power can work in your favour,’ insisted Owain, freeing her hand. ‘If you would trust me to do what I believe is best for both of us, you will return to live on your manor in safety.’
‘You talk of trust. Tell me, Master ap Rowan, what have you to gain from finding the person responsible for Sir Roger’s death? What has Sir Thomas promised you?’ She bit into the last morsel of food and reached for more bread.
‘My father has banned me from returning home. I must support myself as best I can. The King has promised to reward the man who solves the mystery of your husband’s death.’
A surprised laugh escaped her. ‘An honest answer at last. I knew the King had given money to fund Sir Roger’s experiments with alchemy, but I never thought that he cared so much for the man. Yet if the King has lost his wits, how will you gain your reward?’
‘Hopefully he will recover and I will not be out of pocket for my efforts as Sir Thomas is funding my search.’
‘No doubt he is spending the income from Merebury,’ murmured Kate. He gave her a hard look and she flushed. ‘No doubt you would deny that, yet if I were in his shoes it would make perfect sense. Tell me, Master ap Rowan, why has your father banned you from your home?’
He stiffened. ‘That is none of your concern, my lady. You have my assurance that it has nothing to do with the matter under discussion. But perhaps I should tell you what I have done so far in my search.’
‘Speak on.’
‘I have met with your reeve. He is of the opinion that there was some devilry afoot at your manor that led to your husband’s death.’
Kate stared at him and said lightly, ‘When people dwell on such then they will conjure up Ol’ Nick and his demons.’
‘So you do not deny it. Tell me more.’
She shook her head. ‘I will only repeat what I have just said.’
Owain’s blue eyes met hers and she felt he was trying to burrow into her very soul—it was a struggle to meet his gaze and refuse to look away or allow him in. Suddenly he reached for his cup and rasped, ‘I need to hear your version of events leading up to his death if I am to help you. You say you left Merebury because you feared for your life. Which either means that despite any denial you might make you killed Sir Roger or you fear those who did kill him.’
‘I do not know who killed Sir Roger,’ said Kate in a low voice. ‘The Fletchers might have known, but I told them that I did not want to know…so after leaving Merebury we did not discuss the matter.’
‘I find that difficult to believe.’
She shrugged, knowing she must be careful. ‘What do you know of any of us? Since being forced into a marriage that proved distasteful to me, all I ever wanted was to leave that life behind and go on pilgrimage.’
‘And the Fletchers?’
She blinked at him. ‘They loved me and would have given their lives for me.’
‘So they never spoke to you about the human bones your reeve found…the lights he swears he saw out near the old stones, the men in robes and a devilish figure?’
Kate half-opened her mouth and then shut it again and reached for her cup. The tips of her fingers were trembling and she prayed he would not notice. She drank deeply, her thoughts darting hither and thither beneath his intent blue gaze. She put down the cup and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Did he tell you about the mummers who came to Merebury the Christmas before last? How one was dressed in horns and tail and caused much merriment amongst the revellers. Even Sir Roger enjoyed the jape until the figure turned his attention on him…then he appeared not to be so amused.’
Owain said, ‘He did, indeed, tell me of the mummery that took place and how that devilish figure warned Sir Roger to have care or his life would be forfeit. But he did not believe that parody of Ol’ Nick had aught to do with the lights and figure at the old stones.’
She said firmly, ‘But was Ol’ Nick really there? It’s easy to see a sheep or a goat in the mist and imagine things when rumours are flying round that the lord of the manor is having truck with the devil to produce gold for the King.’ A smile lighted her face and she leaned towards him across the table. ‘There. I have said more than I intended. But I ask you, Master ap Rowan, is this really the right time for such a conversation? You said you wanted an early start. Perhaps we should pack the rest of the food to eat later. If you continue with this any further, it could be noon before we are on our way.’
He hesitated and then nodded. ‘Of course. If you would of your courtesy wrap the food in the napkin whilst I fill our water bottles and saddle up Merlin, I will meet you in the courtyard.’
She started. ‘Merlin! Why do you call your horse…?’
‘He is a wonder of a horse even if he is of mixed parentage,’ said Owain, opening the door. ‘Part Welsh, part Germanic and with a strain of illicit Berber. I saw him born.’
‘I remember horses being led off the ships in Liverpool when I was there with my brother,’ she said softly.
He started. ‘Brother?’
Kate’s heart leapt with fear and for a moment she felt as if suffocating, then she drew a breath and swallowed. ‘What am I thinking of?’ she said, laughing. ‘I speak of my father’s godson. His parents were dead and he lived at Merebury for a while. Having no brothers or sisters, we played at being such to the other.’
‘What happened to him?’
She lied smoothly. ‘A mist came down and he wandered into the great mere and was never seen again.’ She gazed at Owain from soulful eyes. ‘It’s a sad tale. I was heartbroken.’
He made a noise in his throat and left the bedchamber without further comment.
Kate sat down, feeling weak at the knees and a need to draw several deep breaths. Was he suspicious? She must not rush into speech, but pause for thought. It had always been a fault with her and had got her into trouble more times than she could remember.
She rose to her feet and wrapped the food in the napkin and placed it in one of the saddlebags. Then she picked up her pilgrim’s garb and looked at it with distaste. She would like to be rid of it, but, having been reared in habits of thrift, it would be a sin to throw it away. She folded it up and found a place for it in the saddlebags. She prayed that God would forgive her for her deception.
Merlin was a magnificent beast, strong in the shoulders and deep in the chest. Built for endurance not speed, thought Kate, watching his master climb nimbly into the saddle. She stood on a mounting block and he held down a hand to her. She grasped it above the elbow and he swung her up behind him. She bundled up her skirts for comfort’s sake. The ground appeared a long way down and it was a relief to take a firm grip on the back of Master ap Rowan’s belt. His closeness was enough to set her pulses racing and she
told herself that she must stay calm. There were many miles ahead before they reached England and it would not do to lose her head or her heart to this man.
They made their way through the bustling streets in a westerly direction and had soon left the city behind. Merchants and pilgrims, monks and clerics, citizens and country folk, alike, wended their way on foot, horseback, mule or by wagon. For a while Kate forgot her troubles, gazing with interest at the scene about her. After months of walking it was a pleasure to be carried to her destination and on such a horse. She knew enough to realise that this one had been put through its paces and trained so its gait was comfortable even at a walk. She had once ridden an animal that had made her feel seasick when it slowed its gait.
The road was slippery in places, due to tiny streams, which cascaded from the wooded, rocky hillsides, to wend their way through lush meadowland. Those that did not peter out trickled across the road of beaten earth to be absorbed by the undergrowth on the other side bordering the forest. She thought how different the landscape was from the burning plains of Castile; for, although the sun shone from a cloudless sky, there was a cool westerly breeze that tempered the heat.
‘This land reminds me of Wales.’ Owain flung the words over his shoulder at her.
‘I have never been to Wales but I would say it is also akin to parts of Lancashire. I notice that many of the Galicians are fair skinned.’
‘That is because they are descended from the same race as those that crossed the ocean to Briton, driven out of the eastern lands by the barbarians in the dark times,’ replied Owain.
‘Would you say that would be after St James landed on the coast here near a place called Finisterre?’
‘Nay! This would be before then. They believed they had reached the end of the world, but the great ocean they found is the same as that which washes the shores of western Ireland. Men have left that land to sail for days on end in the search for the Land of the Ever Young.’
