by Allie Borne
It was going to be a long night. If his troops did not arrive soon, there would be no way he could hold them off.
“My lord!” a harsh, ragged whisper could be heard through the rustle of tall grass behind him. “All is well at the keep. The miscreants are safely encased in the polk, and I have hitched them to the wagon, as planned.”
“Thank ye, Adam,” Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, we need only hold the bank until my reinforcements arrive. Did ye see to it that the ladies barricaded themselves within the keep?”
“Aye, and I brought us three days worth of provisions here, so we can keep watch.”
“Let us hope we will not be that long out,” Gavin groaned, looking dubiously at the open embankment once more. What he wouldn't give for a few hounds right now, to help see to the defense of the boundary.
~
Sara peered through the slats at the men passed out in the wagon's cage. Her mind raced. These men were dangerous. In another twenty-four hours, they would awaken, and with a vengeance. She must act to protect her family, but how?
Breasts aching and heavy with milk, she returned to the keep to care for her daughters. A solution had to be found quickly, and she knew just the man for the job.
“Must we stay in this infernal closet?” Hannah moaned, leaning up against the cold stone dejectedly.
“Aye, Hannah,” Sara returned sternly as she switched Elizabeth to her other breast to suckle. “As I have told ye repeatedly, the men are only temporarily confined. Were they to escape, ye both would be in peril. Now, I have sent Millie to town to seek out the sin eater. He should be here shortly, and our troubles shall soon find themselves outside the manor gates.”
Hannah shivered. “The sin eater? The most plague-infested being in the realm? Why bring him here?”
“Precisely because he is the one man in this region whom no one would willingly approach and question, and he is just desperate enough to be willing to help us with our vermin infestation.”
“Have ye gone mad, stepmother? Yer words make no sense.”
“I ask only that ye trust me by staying put a while longer. Then, we shall see wheher I am maniacally mad or logically wrathful.”
Chapter 5
Captivated
Sara shivered as she watched the wraith-like man slither through the front gate before her companion, Millie. Was she doing the right thing? Shearing up her resolve, she strode forward and bowed her head in greeting. “Mortichai, I greet thee and pray thou art in good health.”
Lifting his head slightly to peer at Sara through long, greasy black bangs, Mortichai shrugged. “I fair as well as one might expect under such circumstances as mine.”
Sara shuddered again. Mortichai had been a stable boy in the keep before the now departed Lord Sanders had caught him filching a tankard of ale from the store room. Ruthlessly, the lord had cast the boy out into the streets as an example to others who might be tempted to take advantage of the Lord's hospitality.
Now, Mortichai had survived the only way he could-by becoming the village sin eater. An established “sinner” himself, Mortichai offered himself up to any family whose deceased had passed on without the benefit of a final confession. He would eat food placed on the dead and thus consume their sins, taking them onto himself.
Sara's heart ached for Mortichai. Once a fun-loving scamp of a boy, he had been doomed to repeatedly take on the guilt of others, over one simple youthful indiscretion. Sara knew how he felt, if not the depth of his isolation and suffering. She, too, had been a victim of Lord Sander's cursory judgment.
Now, she hoped, her desperate circumstances could spell relief for them both. “Mortichai of Hampstead, I have summoned thee with a most earnest and dire request.”
Mortichai's head rose slightly and tilted, taking in the Lady of the keep and patiently awaiting her explanation.
“I have recently married the new Lord Sanders; yet, a usurper has made an attempt at collecting the title, by attempting to kidnap my daughter, Lady Hannah. We have thwarted the knave's efforts, but are now in a predicament. How might we return the errant knave to his father, without leaving the keep unprotected?
“Twas then that I thought of ye, Mortichai. Thou art familiar with horses and wagons. Thou art also a man who is deserving of a second chance at life. Should thou be willing, I wouldst offer thee the wagon, pig polk, and horses, in return for thy efforts in returning the three men thus ensconced back to Lakeshore Manor.”
Silence ensued as Mortichai rose his head slowly, appraising Lady Sara. “Thou wouldst entrust me, a lowly peasant, a known thief, and sin eater, to return a wayward nobleman to his father? Seems thou art most desperate, indeed, My Lady,” Mortichai returned, his tone scathing.
“I have never thought of thee as lowly or sinful, Mortichai. We were children together here. Thou were always kind and helpful to me. I trust that the cruel fate which ye were dealt has not changed thee, at yer core, Mortichai. I trust thou art stronger than the weaknesses of yer betters.”
Mortichai's eyes flashed briefly before he again dropped his head. Raising it again a moment later, he squared his shoulders. “I would require a bath, new clothing, and provisions for my journey. I should not arrive at Lord Polk's keep looking a beggar.”
Sara shuddered and tilted her head in acquiescence. “Ye shall have all these things, in good time. I ask only that ye wear the heavy mantle of 'sin eater' a few days longer, whilst thou transports the knaves home. In this way, thou art unlikely to be questioned or approached by others. Adam is fashioning a sign for the wagon that will warn others they are plagued by disease. Then, before entering Lakeshore, thou canst bathe and change into the attire of a Lord Sander's man.
“Adam, will ye see to Mortichai's needs, and a proper sign for our prisoner's cage?”
Adam nodded his assent and waved Mortichai to follow him into the barn. No one was heedless enough to risk infection within the keep. However unjust Mortichai's fate had been thus far, no one was willing to share it.
Sara knew that the gift of a wagon, horse, and pig polk, could go far in helping Mortichai establish himself as something other than a sin eater. New clothing would be enough to reinvent the man into an independent farmer. As a boy, Mortichai had experience tending live stock and could do so again.
To ensure his loyalty, she would ask Sir Gavin to offer Mortichai the use of a few acres on the boundary of the village, should he return with positive results. Now, she need only provide him a writ, explaining his duty to any who might stop him along the way. As unlikely as it was that a man would be able to read the message therein, Lord Sander's seal would sway all but the highest of officials.
~
“Ye did what?” Gavin bellowed from his hip bath in the solar.
“I-I asked the local sin eater to deliver Sir John to his father.”
“And how is he possibly to be successful in that venture? I have yet to fully depose of Lord Polk's troops.”
“I-I had not thought of that eventuality, Sir Gavin. I had only thought that the longer the men remained within our keep, the longer Hannah faced untold danger. Besides, the men are busy at the slope. Were some to have stayed in the woods before the keep wall, all they will see is a bedraggled man leading a cart of pigs.”
Sara sank upon the bed, chin trembling and head aching from the exhaustion and stress of the last several days.
Standing boldly from the water and striding to the linen cloth lain across the chair, Gavin dried himself and eyed Sara balefully. “Lucky for us, my troops arrived and have been stationed. Adam told me of yer hair-brained venture. I have assigned three men to flank the wagon and escort this “sin eater” to Lakeshore Manor.
“When they return successfully, we will, ourselves, embark upon our own mission.”
Sara's heart raced. “Leave the manor? At this juncture? Is that wise?”
“Tis necessary. My second in command will protect the keep. We will deposit young Hannah with Lord Anther's household and cont
inue on to pay homage to King Edward. Tis necessary to establish my authority here at the manor. His majesty readies his troops to leave again for Calais. Were we to wait, it could be years before we establish my authority here, if at all. I cannot possibly maintain such a tenuous position for long.”
Sara shuddered and prayed silently that their luck would hold. Millie bustled in, Elizabeth in tow, and placed her unceremoniously in Sara's arms. “I've a score of folk to feed, and Adam is useless if I'm not about to keep him at his duties. Ye'll need to keep track of the bairn tonight, I'm afraid, My lady.”
“Think nothing of it, Millie. I am grateful for thy unfailing service. What would I do without thee?”
Millie blushed and waved away Sara's gratitude as she bustled out the door.
Sir Gavin watched curiously as Sara scooted herself against the bed's headboard and lowered her gown to nurse. Although nothing but the rounded curve of her breast could be seen above Elizabeth's head, Sara blushed at the intimacy of nursing before Gavin.
She barely knew this man, and yet, he had been present at the most vulnerable moments of her adult life. No husband was ever present at the birth of their children; yet, he had physically moved her infant within her womb, lifted her, and assisted with the birth of her daughter.
It all felt too close, too intense. She was not yet ready to see him again. And yet, there he stood, with nothing but a bit of linen wrapped around his narrow waist, staring at her exposed breasts as if he, too, wished to partake of their contents.
“Is the keep secure?” she asked, hoping to remove his focus from her person.
“Aye, tis,” he responded, never removing his eyes from her exposed collar bone and breast.
Slowly, he moved closer to her position on the bed. At that very moment, Elizabeth chose to unlatch, and mew in contentment.
Before she could move to cover herself, Gavin swept in and lifted the infant to his shoulder. Sara's puckered nipple showed wet and pink against the cool night air.
Shaking she lifted her gown back over her shoulder and looked away from Gavin's hungry gaze. “She needs burped,” she whispered, blushing.
“I ken what she needs,” Gavin whispered back, patting the infant tenderly against his shoulder. Elizabeth mewed again and rubbed her head demandingly against Gavin's tunic.
Chuckling, he nodded in Sara's direction. “Pull down the other shoulder of yer gown, Sara. My daughter demands her second course.”
Sara's chin tilted up, and her face flamed. She lifted her arms to take Elizabeth, and Gavin grinned ruthlessly. “I'll have ye remember who is lord of this keep,” he rumbled. Nodding his head toward her gown, he waited.
Elizabeth's cries grew more insistent, and milk began to drip from Sara's left breast, leaving a tell-tale stain upon the expensive fabric. Seeing the resolve in Gavin's gaze, Sara slowly lowered the left shoulder of her gown, exposing the round, eager breast to his greedy gaze.
“Now was that so difficult, Sara?” he crooned, as he lowered Elizabeth into her arms, purposefully grazing the top curve of her breast with his knuckle.
She did not honor his gloat with a response, instead, preferring to gaze at her cherubic daughter.
How odd it was to be married and have children with a complete stranger!
Gavin seemed to be enjoying his power over her; something shamefully carnal pooled within Sara, at his bold ownership of her person. Long after she had lain Elizabeth in her bassinet and snuggled deep beneath the bed covers, unspeakable parts of Sara's anatomy hummed in response to the heat in Gavin's gaze.
~
A bloated fly buzzed through the wooden slats of the mobile pig polk. The make-shift cage swayed along the rutted trail to Lakeshore Manor. Resting lightly upon the mottled cheek of Sir John, the gluttonous fly rubbed his two front legs together in anticipation. If Sir David did not know better, he would have sworn the wee beastie had read the sign attached and was gloating at their humiliation.
“Property of Lord Polk,” it read, with an image of a hand crossed out to indicate to the local illiterate masses that the contents within the slatted cage were dangerous and not to be touched. He'd heard Sir Gavin's soldiers laughing about it over their warm fire last night. Yesterday, Sir David had spied a young imp peering through the slats at an angle necessary to see within but he was soon run off by the attending soldiers.
It was damn humiliating, being bested by a woman and some lowly serfs. Why, a man with his experience on the battle field should be able to have at least faced his enemy with sword and strength, rather than being outwitted by his lessors. He outranked every man woman and child within that keep, and yet, he had left it in a pig pen, drugged and disarmed.
If he were to arrive at his father's gates, his older brothers in tow like this, Sir David was certain that his father would have them all thrown out in disgrace. Twas a privilege a man with six sons could afford. And without a name to attach his limited experience to, he was unlikely to be hired as anything but a mercenary, any time soon. Truth be told, he had never been the least interested in helping his wayward brother gain such a choice piece of property and title. The fool would lose it through incompetence soon enough.
At only seventeen, Sir David was also not so ignorant as to raise his hopes to such a lofty position for himself. Yet, he was the son of a baron, a newly knighted soldier, and well-versed at the ways of the gentry. He, at least, could eek out enough of a living for himself, to establish himself at the head of another Lord's troops. He could make a living and earn a life for himself that no one in his family ever expected. He could make his father proud enough to acknowledge his youngest son.
Now, that dream seemed very far away. The effects of the drug had lasted so long as to have carried the cart two days out of the three towards his father's keep. If he did not rouse himself to act soon, his dream of being anything more than a lowly soldier would vanish.
The nails used to fasten the pig polk to the base of the wagon were numerous and securely placed. He would not be able to pry enough lose to slip from the bottom of the structure. Yet, the polk itself seemed older and had not been reinforced. If, by some miracle, he could distract the guards, he might be able to loosen a few slats in the top of the pen and slip out that direction.
Sir David cared not whether his fat brothers would escape. They had vacillated between ignoring and tormenting him his entire childhood. He was a man now and would make his way on his own, without their aid, just as he had grown accustomed.
Then what? He could not return to his father's house a failed man. He had to accomplish some feat to be welcomed back into Lord Polk's militant graces. What if he were able to achieve alone what his brother could not with twenty troops? Now that would be a coup!
Slowly, he stood, and began wiggling a corner board above his head. His plan would work. It had to work.
~
A week had passed since the new Lord Sanders had sent Sir John back to his father. And, yet, no word from the most unsettling Mortichai. Why had he entrusted such a tenuous situation to such an unwholesome character? He should have never allowed a woman to take the lead in this way. He was blinded by Sara. That was the problem. As much as he tried to keep his distance and avoid the distraction she posed, all he could think of was Sara. Sara's golden waves spread across the pillows as the morning light caressed her cheek... Sara's strong set to her jaw when she bit her tongue against something contrary she wished to speak...
She was beautiful and bright. She was strong and competent. What did he really offer her but a dangerous ruse? Gavin's guilt nearly overwhelmed him. Sara deserved a man with the funds and the title to maintain this land and her children safely. Instead, she had been manipulated into marrying him. If he were unable to convince the king of his strength of position, Sara would be out on the street and Hannah would be married to Sir John within the fortnight.
He should have married Hannah as the writ described. Then, he would rightfully hold possession of the keep and title. Instead,
he had arrived to find Hannah a child. Twas a task he could not stomach. Instead, he had married the mother of the possible heir. And, like a fool, he had wished for a daughter. Had Sara produced a son, his marriage to her would have ensured the safety of the household. And, yet, fool as he was, he had wished for a daughter, then sons of his own to take over the land some day.
At this rate, some day would never occur. Sara could be forced to surrender Elizabeth to the new and rightful Lord Sander's household, and he and Sara could be thrown out on the streets. Or, worse yet for him, his marriage to Sara could be annulled with the flick of the king's wrist. Why had he not insisted on consummating the marriage immediately? Now, t'would not be possible to do so for another month, at least. Still, he could not truly bring himself to regret the path which he had chosen. Sara was everything he had ever imagined his wife might be.
Even if he lost the keep and had to become a hired sword once more, Gavin would never regret choosing to align himself with Sara. She breathed life into his weary bones. She, more than the lands and title, was the reward for a difficult and dreary struggle towards success.
He would make these soft-hearted decisions of his pay off by becoming a very focused and hard troop leader. If he gave not once inch between now and the moment King Edward awarded him the title and lands. Then, mayhap, he could achieve all he wished for himself, after all.
~
Sir David's thick brown hair hung heavy on his brow. It had been three days since he had made his narrow escape from Sir Gavin's men. He still had the angry red slice across his calf to prove it. Lying here, just below the precipice of the steep embankment, Sir David couldn't help but question the sanity of his plan.
What if Lady Hannah never again came to fetch water from the stream? She had been captured once already. The likelihood of her returning whilst Sir Gavin's men wandered about was slim. And even if she did come to the stream and he could grab her, he'd have five men on him, cutting him down in an instant.
