by June Francis
‘Lovely, is she, Owain?’ asked the excitable voice.
‘You’ll see for yourself. Now, when does the Saint Werburgh sail? Even if I don’t go with you, I’ll come and see you off.’
‘First light tomorrow morning, but we need to be aboard this evening.’
Kate heard their footsteps coming towards the house. She leaned against the wall, so shocked that she could not move. At least now she knew there was more to Owain’s search for Lady Catherine than he had told her. She had been mistaken in him. He was just as greedy to possess Merebury as Sir Thomas.
Chapter Seven
A miserable Kate decided she must leave the house straight away. She thought deeply about what to do as she donned her homespun tunic. She still had her scallop badge and pilgrim passport and hopefully would be able to beg a staff from the hostel in the city, having left hers in Spain. Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at Owain’s ring. Then she wrenched it from her fingers and placed it on the chest.
She went down the back stairs, past the kitchen and into the yard. She hurried out into the street and made her way to the quays, hoping to find the ship mentioned by Owain’s brothers.
It was busy down by the quayside with ships being loaded and unloaded and merchants and mariners standing in groups talking. Fortunately, it did not take her long to discover where the St Werburgh was moored. She noted the flag of a white horse on a green-and-white background fluttering from one of its smaller masts and stood in the shade of a warehouse, watching barrels, baskets and packets being carried aboard. After a while she decided she had seen enough and made her way to the Abbaye-aux-Dames and spent time in confession and prayer, not only for the good of her soul, but also that of her Lady.
Her heart was heavy, knowing that she still loved Owain. She imagined his anger when he discovered her missing, and prayed that she would be able to avoid him if he came seeking her. But perhaps Marguerite would ensure that did not happen, if she was intent on having Owain for a husband, she thought bitterly. For a moment she remembered the sweetness of his kisses and the thrill of being held safe in his strong embrace. Then she told herself that she must stop thinking of him and concentrate all her efforts on being reunited with her mother and Diccon.
Yet, as she went in search of the hostel, she could not help wondering how differently matters might have turned out, if he had heard her confess she was not the Lady Catherine. But as he, obviously, still believed her to be that lady, she must adhere to her plan. When evening came she would make her way to the quays again. Once there, she would smuggle herself on board the St Werburgh. Naturally, she could not escape discovery once the ship was at sea, but hopefully the brothers would take pity on a pilgrim, and let her stay with the ship until it tied up at Chester.
A moon flittered fitfully through the scudding clouds, reflecting off the surface of the water. Kate darted out of the shadows and across a street, into the lee of a warehouse, overlooking the river. There she paused to catch her breath, gazing in dismay at the ship rocking at anchor a little way out; a lantern was tied to the top of its main mast and a flag with a horse on a white-and-green background fluttered from one of the smaller masts. She could see the dark outline of two men and hear the murmur of their voices. Her spirits plummeted even further. Earlier that day the ship had been moored at the quayside and mariners had carried goods aboard, simply by walking up a gangplank. Why had they moved the ship?
A light puff of salt-laden air fluttered a strand of golden hair before it settled on her forehead. Her teeth worried her lip as she debated what to do. The distance from the quay to the ship was not great, but if she attempted to swim it she might be seen, but still she must try. Aware of the raucous laughter coming from a nearby tavern, she waited for the moon to go behind a cloud before making her way to the quayside.
There she paused because the night was black as pitch in the shadows. The moon reappeared and she scurried along the waterfront, darting a glance every now and again in the direction of the tavern. Frowning, she realised that if she managed to reach the ship then she was going to have difficulty dragging herself aboard. To climb up from a small boat might be easier. She would have to wait until those frequenting the tavern had settled for the night, though, if she was to steal a boat. She retraced her steps and almost immediately realised she would have been wiser staying where she was, because she had been spotted by one of the mariners outside the tavern, who was weaving his way swiftly towards her.
She ran. The moon went behind a cloud again and plunged the quayside into darkness. Frightened of falling into the river, she changed direction and headed towards the warehouses, hoping to hide in their shadow. But the mariner had been joined by his drinking companions and her escape route was now cut off; they were obviously looking for sport. She had no illusions what they would do to her if they realised she was a woman.
Her hand tightened on the staff, given to her by a nun, and she swung it in an arc in front of her; only for it to be grabbed by one of the men. He pulled hard, catapulting her against him. A scream was jolted out of her and she kicked the man in the shins. He would have wrenched the staff from her, but she sank her teeth into his hand. He yelped and stepped back and she brought up her staff and whacked him across the head with it. He staggered, cursing her.
She was seized from behind and rough hands grabbed her breasts. ‘What have we here? A nice little pilgrim,’ sneered a voice as she was lifted off her feet.
She dropped her staff and dug her fingernails into the back of the man’s wrists and raked his skin. He swore and, loosening his grip, aimed a blow at her. She felt her ear stinging and flung her head backwards and heard him groan as her skull made contact with his nose. Then suddenly she was free and immediately she bent to pick up a staff. As she did so, out of the corner of her eye she saw two men running towards her and her heart sank. Then a voice she recognised commanded her to get out of the way.
She felt quite indignant at his ordering her around, but as that moment her assailants decided that escape seemed a better option when faced by two men armed with swords, they fled.
She leant against a wall, taking deep breaths, staring at Owain and his companion. ‘Who’d have believed a lady could be so good in a fight, Owain?’ She recognised the voice this time as belonging to one of the brothers in the stable yard.
Breathing heavily, Owain gazed down at her as he leaned on his sword. ‘Little fool, don’t you ever learn?’ he said in a harsh whisper. ‘If I had not been keeping a watch out for you, they could have done for you.’
‘What are you doing here? How did you know I’d be here?’ she demanded.
‘But of a surety I guessed. Where else would you go if you needed a ship to take you home?’
‘Then—then why did your brothers make it d-difficult for me by moving the ship?’ she retorted crossly.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d have them make it easy for an enemy to sneak aboard after dark?’
‘Nay, but if you knew I would come, then you could have watched for an enemy,’ she snapped.
‘Hadn’t we better bring this debate to an end, Owain?’ said his brother. ‘Before those two rouse the rest of their shipmates. Let’s aboard and be on our way.’
Kate looked questioningly at Owain.
‘This is Davy, who’s persuaded me to go home and see my father.’ He grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her against him to whisper in her ear, ‘You could have saved us both a lot of anxiety if you’d thought to speak to me before running away, Mistress Fletcher.’
He did not give her time to recover from the effect of his words, but frogmarched her along the quay and down steps into a rowing boat. Her heart was beating so heavily in her breast, she thought she might swoon. So he had heard her on the beach in Brittany…Then why had he continued to treat her as if she was the Lady Catherine? Was it because he believed he could trick her into making a slip, believing she had killed Sir Roger? At that moment it was the only reason she could think o
f for his deception. She kept her eyes averted from his face as the boatman took the oars. Soon Davy was hailing the St Werburgh and she saw a rope ladder being lowered.
Once aboard, no time was wasted in lifting the anchor and setting sail. Soon the St Werburgh was drifting silently along the river. Owain escorted Kate to a cabin and left her there without a word. She sank onto her knees on the floor, gripping the wooden rim of the lower bunk, and thanked God and the saints for her deliverance from the hands of the mariners. Her emotions were in turmoil, but she could not help but be glad that the pretence was over. She finishing praying and climbed into the lower bunk and fell into an exhausted sleep.
Owain stood on deck, drinking cider and watching the bank slide by. What was Kate thinking of at that moment? He had left her alone because he didn’t trust himself, wanting to give her a spanking for worrying him so. When he had entered the house after speaking to his brothers in the yard, he had not been too concerned when she was not at breakfast. But then the maid had appeared and told them that the Lady Catherine was not in her bedchamber and that she had found a ring on the chest. He had snatched it from her, recognising it as his own.
Despite Marguerite’s shrill protests he had shot upstairs. As soon as he had spotted the open shutters at her bedroom window, he guessed she had overheard the conversation between himself and his brothers. The extent of his fear for her safety had shaken him to the depths of his being. He had known he had wanted her, but had not realised how Kate, the woman, had wormed her way into his heart. She was loyal, quick-witted, courageous and uncomplaining; the words must have angered and frightened her into running away from him. He sighed. Well, he would talk to her in the morning when they had both calmed down and explain his plans and pray that she would be willing to help him.
He drained his tankard and moved from the side of the ship to greet the helmsman. Then he made his way across the deck to where his horse was quartered. Merlin snickered a welcome. Owain spoke to him softly, stroking his neck. He decided that as there was plenty of straw he would sleep here beneath the stars. As he made himself comfortable, he thought about the Kate who had responded to his lovemaking, and how she might have enjoyed sharing the straw with him and gazing up at the stars. But the Kate who believed he only wanted Lady Catherine for Merebury would repulse him. No doubt she would remind him that she was just plain Kate Fletcher when he told her that he needed her to continue in the role of Lady Catherine for the foreseeable future. He was praying that his betrothal to a Lady might soften his father’s heart towards him and the breach between them could be healed. Hopefully, his reason would be strong enough for her to agree.
Kate gazed out over the shimmering surface of the English Channel, resisting looking at Owain, whose elbow pressed against hers as they stood at the side of the ship. ‘I’m sorry if you were upset by my brothers’ thoughtless words, Kate.’ His voice was low.
She gasped. ‘It is your behaviour I find reprehensible, Master ap Rowan. But I suppose you’re neither better nor worse than other men out to make their way in the world. Besides, I deceived you, so in truth, I have no right to complain. But before you ask why I pretended to be Lady Catherine, may I ask you why you allowed me to continue with my deception when you knew I was Kate Fletcher?’
‘If you recall…we were in rather a predicament at the time.’ His amused blue eyes met hers.
She flushed. ‘Even so there were other opportunities for you to speak out.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I could say the same about you, Kate. Perhaps we should admit that it suited us both to carry on with the deception. And, aye, I would like to know the reason why you pretended to be the Lady in the first place.’
‘My reason was plain and simple: I believed you would treat me with respect if I stepped into my Lady’s shoes.’
‘You do me a discourtesy, Kate,’ he said mournfully. ‘I would have treated Kate Fletcher just the same.’
Her colour deepened and she toyed with her fingers. ‘How was I to know that? But now I’m wondering if you already had your doubts about me before I blurted out the truth.’
‘I have to confess that I did.’
‘Before, or after, you wanted to lay the blame for Sir Roger’s murder on the Fletchers?’
‘From the moment you mentioned your brother.’
She sighed. ‘It was a stupid slip…and most likely gave you cause to believe me guilty of Sir Roger’s murder.’
‘I doubt you are capable of cold-blooded murder,’ he said softly. ‘But I was informed that you and your mother are wise in herb lore. Do you know of a plant that could kill and show no sign of what caused death? Be honest with me, Kate.’
Should she trust him? After the barest of hesitations, she nodded, ‘Yew berries. The poison contained within them is slow working. Mixed with some other fruit, stewed and sweetened and served in a tart, Sir Roger could have eaten his fill, entered his chamber, locked the door and died an hour or so later.’
Owain stared at her thoughtfully. ‘It could have been so, but it does not explain the look of horror on his face.’
Perhaps as he was dying he had a vision of his devilish master coming to claim him,’ she said lightly.
Owain smiled faintly. ‘Maybe he saw your rescuer.’
Kate shook her head. ‘How could he have left the chamber when the door was locked from the inside?’
‘He did not have to be inside the room. A ladder. A face at the window,’ suggested Owain.
‘He’d be taking a great risk in daylight.’
Owain decided to change the subject. ‘I would ask of you a boon.’
His words surprised her. ‘A boon?’
He gazed at her intently. ‘My brothers have no idea of your true identity. They believe I am betrothed to the Lady Catherine. I want you to continue in that role.’
‘Why do you ask this of me?’ she demanded, unable to tear her gaze away from his. ‘They must know I ran away from you.’
‘I told them I had been less than honest with you. That you believed our betrothal to be a love match and were deeply hurt when you overheard them mention my plans for Merebury.’
‘They—they believed you?’
He took one of her hands. ‘They trust me. That is why they want me to return home and speak with my father. You heard what they said about my stepmother, Gwendolyn?’
‘She cuckolded your father by taking the Comte as her lover…and is trying to oust you from your position as his heir so her child can inherit. How did they meet?’
He shrugged. ‘I do not know exactly.’
‘Why should she do this?’
‘My father killed her sire, but she did not realise it at the time. Her uncle discovered the truth and determined to have his revenge on my father for his brother’s death. Friar Stephen is not your normal holy man. First he knew that he needed to drive a wedge between me and my father. Gwendolyn did this by convincing him that I schemed to kill Martin and had my eye on her.’
‘How could he believe you would kill your own brother?’ She was shocked.
‘She is a beautiful woman. Her uncle told Gwendolyn that he could see my envy and dark heart during that meeting in France and then to back up his foul claim he introduced her to Sir Roger and he colluded with him to lay the blame on me. Of course I did not have all this information at my last meeting with my father. I thought that if I presented you to him as the lady I am going to marry and you told him of the kind of man Sir Roger was, then he might soften towards me and the breach between us could be healed.’
‘I understand.’ She was thinking it was too much to hope for that he might love Kate Fletcher and wish to marry her.
‘But—’ She stopped abruptly, knowing she needed to consider carefully before agreeing to what he asked. The fact that he was toying with her fingers did not make it any the easier for her to concentrate. ‘If the Comte d’Azay or Friar Stephen were to see me, they would know me for who I am,’ she said slowly.
‘Then w
e’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.’
Suddenly she was distracted by a wayward thought. ‘Perhaps you wish to return home so you can revenge your brother’s death by killing the Comte?’
Owain stared at her before raising her hand to his lips and kissing each of her fingers. ‘I never said I believed him to be responsible for my brother’s death, sweet Kate. But perhaps we can prove he and that wily friar guilty of other crimes. Wouldn’t you enjoy helping me to bring them to justice?’
‘Aye, but…’ Another thought struck her. ‘You haven’t asked me what happened to Lady Catherine.’
‘I believe she is dead, otherwise you would not have stepped into her shoes.’
Kate’s eyes were suddenly moist. ‘She died of fever and exhaustion. She is buried in the graveyard at Villafranca.’
‘But your mother and brother are alive? Otherwise you would surely not have leapt to their defence.’
Kate lowered her eyes and withdrew her hand from his grasp. ‘I will trust you so far, Master ap Rowan, but no further,’ she said with dignity.
He frowned. ‘They know something that causes them to go in fear of their lives?’
She gripped the side of the ship with trembling hands. ‘You ask too many questions.’
‘That is the task to which I have been appointed by Sir Thomas,’ he countered. Her reaction to his questions convinced him that her mother and brother were indeed alive.
The mention of that knight immediately brought a scowl to her face and, without another word, she walked away.
Owain watched her go, torn between frustration and desire. Even in the pilgrim tunic he found her appealing. Her hips swayed seductively, causing his loins to react to what he saw. He remembered the gift that Nat had handed to him before he left Marguerite’s house. Hopefully when he gave it to her she might agree to his proposal.
