Rowan's Revenge

by June Francis

  Kate was enchanted, sensing a tale that would take his mind off Sir Roger’s murder and while away the hours. ‘What is this land you speak of? Does it belong to those who found the elixir of youth, which the alchemists speak of?’ Fie! She had not meant to say that.

  ‘Who knows? All I can tell you is that it is spoken of in the tales passed down by the old ones. There is a story that one of them reached that land and fell in love with a beautiful lady there. She loved him, also, and for years they lived together, but he pined for his own country and decided to return there…both knew that if she went with him she would die.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It is a sad tale. Both died. Their hearts broken.’

  Kate said softly, ‘To be loved in such a way is surely rare.’

  ‘Yet it happens. The King’s mother fell in love with one of her son’s squires. A Welsh yeoman called Owain ap Twydr. He and my father fought side by side at Agincourt. I am named after him. Owain and that Catherine wed secretly. But it was not until after she died that it became known that they had wed and she had borne him three sons. He was imprisoned for a while, but later released. Two of his sons were given the titles of Earl of Richmond and Pembroke. They have gained by being half-brothers to the King and this has caused much jealousy.’ Owain hesitated before saying, ‘You mentioned earlier a man you called the Comte d’Azay.’

  Kate said tersely, ‘He visited Merebury during the spring of last year, showing great interest in Sir Roger’s experiments in alchemy. Once he let slip the Comte was connected with a Welsh magnate further south.’ She fell silent, not wanting to talk of the Frenchman, thinking he was another who shared Sir Roger’s dark heart. She changed the subject swiftly, ‘When I first set eyes on you, Master ap Rowan, I considered you a Spaniard because of the colour of your skin and hair.’ She clutched his shoulder as the horse jerked a little to the left as if avoiding a rut in the road.

  She heard him sigh, but he answered speedily enough, ‘You detect another strand of my ancestry, Lady Catherine, and it will reveal to you why I have a fondness for Lancashire. My great-grandmother was from Castile and was a maid-in-waiting to the second wife of John of Gaunt, the King’s great-grandfather—she married one of his knights.’

  She was about to ask him how his mother had come to marry a Welshman and whether he had a wife or betrothed waiting for him in England when there came a sound like that of distant thunder. She looked to her left and drew in her breath with a hiss as she saw a herd of horses pouring like spilt honey down the hillside. Never had she seen so many horses in one place together and the sight filled her with awe and not a little fear, for, as she watched, she realised they were heading towards the road.

  ‘Hold tight, my Lady!’ yelled Owain and he urged Merlin into a gallop.

  Apprehension tightened Kate’s throat, aware that there was no escape into the dense forest of oak and chestnut on their right. She slid her arms about Owain’s waist and laced her fingers together, pressing her cheek against his back. As they increased speed, she was uncertain whether the thudding she could hear was her heart beating or his. Perhaps it was that both were beating to the drumming of Merlin’s hooves on the hard earth.

  The leading horses were now close enough for her to see their manes, flying like banners. For a moment she was terrified that they would be caught up in the herd, knocked to the ground and trampled on. But at what felt the last moment, the leaders swerved and began to gallop alongside the road before swerving again and sweeping round in a great curve and heading back across the meadowlands.

  Owain let out a whoop and shouted something in what she presumed was Welsh. She felt the same exhilaration and gladness to be alive. Merlin began to slow down, snorting and tossing his mane. Eventually he was trotting, then walking. Kate still clung to Owain, conscious of the heat and strength emanating from his body. It had a strange effect on her, making her reluctant to separate herself from him. Together, they had survived a brush with death and she knew she would never forget it.

  He leaned forward to stroke Merlin’s sweating neck and Kate loosened her grip on him, listening as he whispered to the horse. They came to a halt and he turned his head, gazing at her from eyes that sparkled with excitement. ‘That was a near-run thing! Dangerous, but you did not panic and that says something to me about you.’

  Kate was pleased by his words. She straightened up and asked him where the horses had come from and who owned them.

  He dismounted. ‘They belong to St James. A gift from the people of this region in the last century when the plague was rife. Apparently no one ever reclaimed them and they have bred and multiplied.’ His expression sharpened as his gaze rested on her face, flushed and damp with perspiration. ‘We’ll pause for a while and rest. We can finish the food and Merlin can find his second wind.’ He held up his arms to her.

  For an instant Kate hesitated, then, resting her hands on his shoulders, allowed herself to fall towards him. He caught her and, for a moment, she was pressed against the length of him. Their faces were but inches apart and there was an awareness in his eyes that caused the breath to catch in her throat. She had a crazy urge to run a finger over his lips and then kiss him. But then Merlin tossed his head and shifted restlessly, causing Owain to take several paces back. The spell was broken and she slid between his hands until her feet touched the ground. Shaken, she turned her back on him and, despite her legs feeling as if they had turned to water, she made for the trees.

  ‘There could be wild boar in the forest. Do not wander far,’ shouted Owain.

  What was wrong with her? Why did his touch have such an effect on her? He was Stanley’s man and for that reason alone she should keep her distance. She relieved herself and then leaned against a tree, fanning her face with a leaf, wanting time to calm her agitated nerves.

  When she left the forest it was to find Owain leaning against a boulder, the food on a napkin spread out on a flat rock. He had removed his cotehardie and unfastened the neck of his shirt, baring his olive-skinned throat. He was drinking from the leather cup, which he wiped with the edge of the napkin and held out to her. She thanked him and drank deeply. He had placed cheese and salted pork between bread and now he gave that to her. She returned the cup to him and ate standing, aching in places she would rather not think about.

  ‘I notice you do not wear a wedding ring, Lady Catherine.’

  His words took her unawares and her head shot up. His eyes narrowed as she fought to keep down her colour and thought swiftly. ‘I did not regard it as so precious that I should keep it. My marriage was not a normal one. I sold it to buy food and salves,’ she retorted.

  Whatever he saw in her face must have satisfied him because he nodded and wiped his brow. She was just allowing herself to relax when he said, ‘Tell me more about the Fletcher family?’

  She visibly jumped, but almost instantly recovered herself. ‘W-what good is it to t-talk of them when they are dead?’ she stuttered.

  He frowned. ‘You will not like what I am about to say, but I will say it nevertheless…If we can prove them guilty, it means you will stand innocent.’

  ‘But—but they would not have killed him,’ she cried, furious with him for scaring her so. ‘How could they? You know as much as I do that he was found dead in a room locked from the inside.’

  ‘I did hear that Mistress Fletcher knew much about herb lore,’ he said, watching her like a hawk. ‘That she was often called upon to help the sick, women in childbirth and the dying. She was training her daughter to follow in her footsteps. They would know of poisons.’

  ‘I tell you they did not kill him,’ she yelled.

  He stared at her, suspicion in his face. ‘There is no need to shout, Lady Catherine.’

  She bit her nether lip, groaning inwardly, knowing she must not allow him to rile her into acting unwisely. ‘I beg pardon. But such a notion is abhorrent to me. You did not know them. I knew them better than anyone else at Merebury.’

  ‘We
can never know all there is to know about another person. Mistress Fletcher had acted nurse to you when you were a babe. You and her daughter suckled from the same breast. Of a surety that created a strong bond between the three of you. A bond strong enough for mother and daughter to kill for you, knowing how unhappy you were with Sir Roger.’

  She stared at him with stricken eyes and yet still she answered him. ‘If every woman were to rid herself of a loathed husband, then England would be half-empty of its men, Master ap Rowan.’ She forced a smile. ‘Believe me—neither the Fletchers nor myself killed him. You must work harder for your reward and seek your murderer elsewhere instead of slandering the dead.’

  His dark brows drew together and his fingers curled into the palm of his hand. ‘I repeat, Lady Catherine, that if the blame for your husband’s death can be laid at the Fletchers’ door, then the matter will be dropped and people will accept that you are innocent. What harm will it do them? They are dead and beyond human punishment.’

  ‘You would have me countenance something that I know is not true?’ Her voice rose and she unfolded her arms and poked him in the chest. ‘Does truth not matter to you, Master ap Rowan? You say Sir Thomas Stanley and the King want you to discover the person responsible for Sir Roger’s death. I suggest you abide by the orders meted out to you. Now, let’s be on our way. The sooner I am in England and rid of your company, the safer I will feel.’

  Owain half-opened his mouth and then clamped it shut, breathing deeply before striding off into the forest. Trembling, Kate leaned against the rock and closed her eyes. The man was impossibly stubborn and she must not allow him to rile her and in so doing give herself away. She opened her eyes and, picking up the empty cup, packed it away in one of the saddlebags with the water bottle and reached for an orange and began to peel it. Losing one’s temper was always a mistake. Master ap Rowan was no fool and, depending on the tenacity of his nature, he might decide to give chase when she escaped him once back in England. He had managed to seek her out twice in Spain and he might do the same again once they were across the channel. Then he would also find her mother and brother, and that would never do if he was so determined on laying the blame on them for Sir Roger’s murder.

  ‘Come, Lady Catherine. Do not stand there daydreaming.’ She started and lifted her eyes. He was grimfaced—who could blame him after what she had said to him—but she would not retract her words.

  ‘I am eating.’

  ‘You can finish the orange on horseback. Place your foot in my hands, Lady Catherine, if you please.’

  He bent over and laced his hands together. With only the barest of hesitation she did as ordered and he lifted her high into the air, enabling her to scramble on to the back of the horse. For a moment she swayed perilously, losing her grip because of the orange in her hand. He shot out an arm and held her in place until she regained her balance. Their eyes met and she knew that she had to make peace between them. ‘I should not have spoken to you so rudely.’ Her voice was stiff. ‘I am certain you were thinking only of what is best for me. I beg your pardon, Master ap Rowan.’

  For a moment he just stared at her and then slowly the anger faded from his eyes and he said thoughtfully, ‘I wonder how much you mean that, my Lady. I sense you fear me and that is a grief to me. I really do want only what is best for you.’ Before she could respond he hauled himself up behind her.

  He took the reins and clicked his tongue against his teeth. The horse moved forward, jerking Kate against his chest. She felt that she had been put firmly in her place. For the rest of the journey she did not speak.

  By the time they reached their destination Kate was hot and sticky with sweat. She ached all over and longed for nothing more than to wash, lie down and not move for several hours. But that was not to be.

  La Coruña was a town cut off from the mainland by a neck of sand. Its narrow streets were bustling with people and its waterfront was just as busy. Kate gazed at the ships in the harbour, wondering which one would take them to England. She watched from beneath drooping eyelids as Owain dismounted and left her high and dry on Merlin’s back, whilst he wandered the waterfront, inspecting the vessels moored at the quayside. She thought he must trust her, leaving her alone on his horse. She supposed that she could ride off and leave him. But where would she go? Much better to allow him to find a ship that would take her to England and escape him once there. She saw him speak to a mariner fishing over the side of one of the ships. The next moment Owain had gone below, to eventually reappear in the company of a bearded man. They spoke animatedly and then she saw Owain pointing in her direction. She was aware of being stared at with open curiosity. Then the two men parted and Owain came striding towards her.

  ‘Well, Master ap Rowan, have you bespoke berths for us on that ship?’ she asked politely.

  ‘The master of the Philippa does have the King’s licence to ferry pilgrims, but normally, that’s a one-way trade with him. He has a shipment of wine, brandy, fruit and salted almonds to take to England…but for a price he’s prepared to take us and Merlin aboard.’

  Kate’s weary face lit up. ‘When do we sail?’

  ‘On the morning tide, although he wants us aboard tonight.’

  ‘How long will it take to reach England?’ Her tone was eager.

  ‘That depends on whether we have fair winds.’ His expression was serious. ‘There is only one cabin available, so I had to tell him that you’re my wife.’

  Kate could only stare at him as differing emotions tore through her. She would have had difficulty deciding which was the strongest: anger, suspicion or, to her shame, excitement. She reined them all in and said in a soft voice, ‘You take much upon yourself, Master ap Rowan. Surely, you should have asked me first.’

  He nodded. ‘Aye. But the outcome would have been the same. You will be safer playing the role of my wife. Now I must arrange for bedding and fodder to be delivered to the ship.’ His tone had changed and was now brisk. ‘If there is aught in the way of food and drink you wish to purchase to supplement the meals aboard, then we will buy it. Afterwards we will visit an inn, refresh ourselves and have a meal.’

  She was relieved to hear that they would wash and eat before going aboard and thanked him for his thoughtfulness. He smiled briefly and asked her would she rather walk than ride. She nodded and he lifted her down in one swift movement, releasing her instantly. He led the way with Merlin. Kate followed in their wake, feeling stiff and sore, and yet soon she was taking an interest in her surroundings. She could see a tall narrow building that soared into the air. ‘What is that?’ she asked curiously.

  He glanced over his shoulder. ‘A lighthouse. It was built by the Romans and still serves to warn ships of the dangerous waters that lie along this coast.’

  She asked no more questions, telling herself she must not dwell on storms at sea, shipwrecks, pirates or sharing a cabin with Owain ap Rowan. Instead she concentrated on considering what to buy to eat aboard ship.

  They wended their way through the narrow streets, pausing to purchase oranges, apricots, cheese, and salted almonds. Kate was grateful for his willingness to buy whatever she suggested, but she had difficulty saying so, only promising to recompense him when they returned to her manor. He assured her that was not necessary, and she reminded herself that the money they were spending had most likely come from Merebury and not the Stanley estates.

  Their evening meal was taken at an inn, not far from the Romanesque church of Santa Maria, and consisted of bean soup with bread, mussels in garlic sauce, and almond tartlets, washed down with rough red wine and finished off with the speciality of the region, Queimada. The liquor burned her throat, causing her to gasp and demand to know its ingredients.

  There had been little conversation between them during the meal, but now Owain smiled at her across the table. ‘I suspect the Galicians would rather keep that secret. A mariner told me the last time I was here that it was first brewed by witches under a magical oak to the accompaniment of Celt
ic chants. It has a slightly burnt flavour, don’t you think?’ He sipped the liquor and held it in his mouth for a moment, savouring it and then swallowed. ‘Of a surety there is brandy there.’

  More cautiously this time, Kate took a sip and held it in her mouth before swallowing. ‘It isn’t sweetened with honey.’

  ‘I’d hazard sugar…and there’s some kind of fruit.’ He drank the rest of the liquor down and beckoned a serving wench. ‘Time we were going. Drink up, Lady Catherine.’

  Once outside Kate felt light-headed, but it was a pleasant feeling and she burst into a ditty about a cheating pardoner getting his toes toasted in hell. Owain gazed at her from thoughtful eyes. ‘You are feeling well, Lady Catherine?’

  She broke off in mid-note. ‘Never better.’ She placed both her hands on his chest. ‘Call me Kate. You would be a friend to me, am I not right?’ Her words were slurred.

  ‘A friend such as the substitute brother, who disappeared in the great mere never to be seen again?’ There was a note of mockery in his voice.

  His mention of a brother caused a warning bell to ring on the edge of her consciousness. She squinted ferociously as she tried to focus on Owain’s face. ‘Have you seen the great mere? If you had, then you would not mock,’ she enunciated slowly.

  ‘I have seen the great mere, but would have thought someone familiar with the area would know their way about,’ said Owain.

  ‘It was misty,’ she said, swaying towards him. Her head drooped against his chest and she felt as if about to float away. She heard his muffled oath and was aware of being lifted and slung over a strong shoulder. She sighed, thinking that she should never have let slip those words about her brother. At least she had not named him, but maybe her inquisitor would put two and two together and come up with the right answer and what would happen to her then? She blinked up at the starlit sky as it whizzed about her and then she lost consciousness.