by June Francis
‘It is true I do not like being in any man’s debt, but I am not completely without funds these days, Master ap Rowan.’
Owain smiled. ‘I am glad to hear of this. As you must know by now, Nat was deeply concerned for Cissie once her stepmother died. He was not happy about her infatuation with my brother-in-law and truly believed you and his only daughter could be happy together. Cissie has a goodly sum of money for a dowry, which could be of great use to you despite any funds you might have.’
‘I would not marry her for her money,’ protested Mackillin, putting down his tankard, so that ale splashed onto the hearth.
‘I am glad you feel like that, but you must allow her to feel that she is of great worth to you. You are a lord and she is a merchant’s daughter—there are those who would regard your marrying her as beneath you.’
Mackillin agreed. ‘My mother is a proud woman, but she will accept my decision or leave my house.’
‘Then I must leave it to you to make the next move when you are ready,’ said Owain. ‘I do stand guardian to Nat’s children now he is dead. I also have a copy of his will, as did the older Husthwaite. This nephew of his most likely saw it and so will know I hold that position.’ He topped up their tankards. ‘If you are not prepared to marry Cissie just yet, then I will go with her and Jack to Milburn Manor and sort matters out there. I will take armed men with me, so you need not fear for their safety.’
Mackillin thanked him.
Owain hesitated. ‘Does Mary Armstrong’s family have any expectations of your marrying her?’
‘Aye. Mary lodges with my mother while her father answers the king of Scotland’s summons to help free Henry of England.’
‘I presume you were also summoned?’
‘I was, but I am still undecided about whether I should answer the summons. I do not wish to disobey my king but I have made no vow of allegiance to him. Also, I feel I have no part to play in the dispute between the Houses of Lancaster and York.’
Owain was about to explain to him why it was important to Scotland that its fighting men support King Henry when a slight cough caused them both to look up.
Mistress Carver smiled at them both. ‘I beg pardon for interrupting your conversation. My lord, your bedchamber is prepared and hot water made ready for you to wash.’
Mackillin’s craggy face lit up and he placed his empty tankard on the hearth and rose to his feet. ‘If you will excuse me, ap Rowan, I would not have this good wife’s labours wasted by allowing the water to cool.’
‘Of course not, Mackillin. You go ahead. I will speak to you later,’ said Owain.
His lordship picked up his pack and followed the housekeeper upstairs.
The conversation at the supper table between the adults was desultory; most of the talking was left to Anna, who was prattling on to Jack about music and horses and how she wished she could go with him next time he sailed to the Continent. Cicely was hard put to speak at all, unable to stop thinking about being parted from Mackillin. She avoided looking in his direction and so had to accept the attentions of Hal, who sat beside her and whispered nonsense in her ear. As the wine loosened his tongue even further, he burst into song with lines about a swain worshipping the ground his love walked on, and likening Cicely’s eyes to the blue sky and her lips to cherries. It was a relief when Owain told him to stop his caterwauling. Hal adopted an injured expression and gave his attention to the food set before him.
As it was, both Cicely and Mackillin found the rest of the conversation enlightening. Owain told them that even if the Lancastrians were to win the forthcoming battle and King Henry was freed, some doubted if he was fit to rule. ‘The Stanleys’ spies say that many more men are rallying to Edward’s banner as they truly believe he has as much right to the throne of England as Henry’s heir. That is why the queen has asked for aid from Scotland. It is rumoured that the seven-year-old Prince of Wales and a sister of King James are to be betrothed.’
Cicely and Mackillin exchanged swift glances. ‘So there could be an alliance between Scotland and England at last,’ said his lordship, his rugged features lighting up. ‘Now that is something worth fighting for. Lasting peace between our countries is long overdue. Perhaps I should have second thoughts about my king’s command,’ he muttered. ‘It could bring peace to the borders of our two countries.’
Owain stared at him hard. ‘It will only happen if the Lancastrians rescue the king. The Stanleys and their adherents will head south-east through the heart of England where they have kin and there are many Lancastrian supporters. They will meet up with the queen and her Scottish allies either close to Stoke or Northampton. If you are of a mind to obey your king’s summons after all, then I will write down directions for you, Mackillin. I’ll also provide you with a better mount than the one you have in appreciation of what you did for Nat and his family.’
‘That’s generous of you,’ said Mackillin, taken aback.
‘So was the service you performed,’ said Owain gravely.
Cicely did not like what she was hearing and her stomach churned with dread. What if Mackillin was killed in the battle? She could not bear the thought. She remembered a tournament she had attended in Knaresborough and the manner of the weapons wielded to inflict injury on one’s opponent; they were truly horrific. Would there be physicians nearby to tend the wounded in the coming battle? She had no notion of this, remembering only that Diccon had come to Kate to have his wound tended. Who would look after Mackillin if he was hurt? It was one of a woman’s tasks to have knowledge of simples and herbal medicine, so she could care for the various ailments and common injuries that happened in a family. If only she could be of help to Mackillin if the need arose.
Yet she had no doubt that he would say that the battlefield was no place for a woman. She stilled her racing thoughts and listened intently to the conversation between Owain and Mackillin about towns and people and the likelihood of the place where the battle would happen; a plan began to form in her mind.
Not long after, Cicely excused herself, claiming to be exhausted and in need of her bed. It was not far from the truth. With a heavily beating heart, she gazed across the table at Mackillin and knew she had to sound convincing when she bid him farewell. ‘I pray that God will grant you a safe journey and deliverance from the conflict ahead, Mackillin, if you should decide to go and fight.’ She could scarcely control the tremor in her voice.
He rose to his feet and could do no more than reach for her hand and lift it to his lips. ‘I appreciate your prayers. No doubt I will be gone before you rise in the morning. May our Saviour keep you in His care.’ He pressed another kiss on her wrist before reluctantly releasing her hand.
Cicely echoed his words before turning and hurrying from the hall. Once upstairs, she went to the bedchamber containing the chest of clothes and removed several garments from its depths. Then she returned to her bedchamber.
Hours later she did not know what it was that started her awake, but she was grateful for whatever reason because the room was filling with the pearly light of dawn. She climbed out of bed and dressed in a set of the youth’s clothes she had taken from the chest and concealed her hair beneath a hat. She picked up her saddlebag and her bow and quiver and left the bedchamber.
Once downstairs she made her way to the kitchen and was relieved to find that the cook was not yet up and making bread for the day ahead. She found some food in the pantry and wrapped it in a napkin and then she quit the house and made her way to the stables. It was getting lighter by the minute, so she wasted no time saddling her horse and mounting. Then she turned its head towards the path that led to the highway and urged the beast into a trot. She had no idea how long the wait might be before Mackillin set out on his journey, but she knew the perfect place to conceal herself until he passed by; then she would follow him.
Chapter Ten
He was being followed. Mackillin had spent too many years in places where his life had depended on his being alert to danger from dr
unken sailors, footpads and his own kin not to be aware of it. At first he’d thought it could be Husthwaite, knowing that he was aware that Owain ap Rowan was Cicely’s and the twins’ guardian now, and had traced him to the manor near Chester. But he had seen no sign of the man, only having noticed a youth in Uttoxeter, whom he remembered catching sight of in Stoke and Nantwich. He did not consider the lad a threat in himself because he certainly couldn’t equal Mackillin if it came to a fight; but it was possible he could be another man’s spy. Perhaps he should slow his pace and let the rider on his tail catch up with him, then he could ask where he was bound.
But to Mackillin’s annoyance the youth had overtaken him at speed when he had slowed down and had soon vanished in the distance. Despite this Mackillin did not drop his guard, considering the lad might have just gone on ahead to lay a trap for him. Even so, he relaxed enough to think of Cicely and wish that he had thought to ask of her some small token to take into battle with him; a kerchief or hair ribbon on which her scent lingered. It would make him feel close to her, just a breath away. He rode for a while, planning how the future he desired for both of them could come about.
Suddenly he was roused from his reverie by an altercation on the road ahead. A cart had overturned and crockery lay scattered on the ground. Some had not broken and a boy was intent on picking up platters and bowls and cups. Two men were in heated debate whilst a woman and youth bent over a horse that lay on the ground. Some wayfarers had stopped to watch what was going on, whilst others skirted the obstacle presented by the horse and cart and hurried on by. Mackillin noticed a horse cropping the grass beside the road and gave the youth a keen scrutiny.
Convinced this was no trap, he dismounted and went over to where the woman and youth hovered by the horse. He saw that the horse was little more than skin and bone and had breathed its last. He caught the words ‘knacker’s yard in Leicester’ and asked if there was aught he could do to help.
The woman stared up at him with fear in her eyes and shook her head. The youth darted him a look from beneath the rolled brim of his hat and mumbled, ‘I’ve offered her a lift into Leicester, my lord. Yous be on your way, thankin’ yer kindly.’
Mackillin had seen enough of the lad’s face to give him pause for thought, but he nodded and strode back to the stallion that Owain had gifted him and swung up into the saddle. He was convinced the youth was the one who had been tailing him and also felt there was something vaguely familiar about him. At the moment he could not remember why that should be, but was certain he would remember sooner or later. He determined to keep a watch out for him in Leicester.
Cicely eased aching shoulders and wished she could turn off the woman’s chatter; it appeared she was not only upset by the death of the horse but also Mackillin’s appearance on the scene. She had spoken of a great army marching down the old road, bringing with them wild men from Scotland. She had seen several for herself with their rude bare legs and long tangled hair and beards. She had heard them speak in a like tongue similar to the one who had spoken to her earlier and feared there were more of them to come. It was rumoured they were performing unspeakable acts as they advanced and she was terrified of being raped and having her throat cut.
Cicely could have assured her that she was perfectly safe from such violation at the hands of Mackillin, but she had barely recovered herself from that brief encounter with him. Fortunately he seemed not to have recognised her and that gave her hope. She had no doubt that she would be able to track him down in Leicester on this second evening of the journey south.
The sun had disappeared by the time they entered Leicester and the woman asked to be set down in the market square. At Cicely’s request, she directed her to the nearest inn. After tying up her horse outside, Cicely entered the building but, to her dismay, the host could only offer her a place in a communal sleeping chamber. As it was getting dark, and she felt too weary to go looking elsewhere, she paid her money and went outside to tend to her horse.
She was in the act of untying her beast to take it to the stables when a hand grasped her shoulder and a voice said, ‘You’ve been following me, laddie, and I want to know why.’
Cicely dropped the reins in fright as she was spun round. She told herself to keep calm and lowered her eyes to the ground after a swift look at Mackillin’s stern features. ‘I don’t know what you mean, my lord,’ she said in a gruff voice.
‘I noticed back on the road you called me lord. Why give me that title, unless you know who I am?’
‘You—you’ve the bearing of a lord,’ she said with inspiration, remembering to deepen her voice and not look at him.
He laughed. ‘You speak false. You know who I am. Is it that you are a younger member of the Milburns’ kin up north? Have you been ordered to follow me and report back to your elders concerning my movements? Well, I’ll soon put an end to your game by taking you to the sheriff,’ he threatened.
As his grip tightened on her shoulder, she cried, ‘Take heed and unhand me. You talk like a Scotsman and he’d throw you into the dungeons and leave you there to rot if you were to do that.’
He looked amused. ‘You dare to threaten me, lad?’
‘Aye,’ she replied boldly. ‘Anyway, you’re mistaken, my lord, I’m not whom you think I am.’
At the change in the pitch of his captive’s voice Mackillin’s hazel eyes blazed. ‘It’s not possible. You can’t be…’
She heard him catch his breath and her heart quickened its beat as he seized her chin and tilted up her face. Fixed by his shocked gaze, she felt the colour rise in her cheeks, but remained silent.
‘Cissie!’ he hissed. ‘Why are you dressed as a lad? What are you doing here? Do you not know that two women were once arrested in Durham for dressing in male garb? They could shave your head and dress you in sackcloth and parade you through the streets.’
‘You’re trying to frighten me,’ she said in a trembling voice.
‘You’re damn well right I am.’ He glowered at her. ‘I don’t suppose ap Rowan knows you’ve followed me?’
‘Of course he doesn’t! Like you he would have prevented me from doing so.’
‘Then who does know? Jack?’
‘And have him risk his life following after us?’ said Cicely indignantly, brushing aside his hand. ‘I care for him more than you think.’
Mackillin almost exploded. ‘You little fool! Did it not occur to you that you were putting your own life in danger?’ He seized her by the shoulders and shook her, dislodging her hat so that her braids uncoiled and fell down her back.
‘Now, see what you have done!’ she exclaimed, horrified in case anyone else might have penetrated her disguise. Wrenching herself free, she picked up her hat and quickly shoved her hair back inside it. She looked about her and noticed two men across the street. Thankfully they appeared not to have noticed what happened. Then a shutter banged above them and she glanced up, but could not see anyone. ‘Thank the Trinity that no one saw me,’ she muttered.
Mackillin took hold of her a little less forcibly and brought her close to him. ‘You don’t mean to persist in this role of a boy? It’s not seemly,’ he said in a sibilant whisper.
‘Who is to know but you and I?’ she questioned softly. ‘You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? As you’ve said in the past, I can hardly travel about on my own as a woman.’
He counted to ten and reined in his anger. ‘Don’t you care that ap Rowan might think I’ve abducted you?’
She laughed shortly and then her eyes hardened. ‘Why should he believe that when it must be obvious to him that your thoughts are purely on doing your king’s will? He would know that you wouldn’t risk my life by taking me with you.’
He felt a need to count to ten once more. ‘You always have an answer! Well, I will not allow you to travel any further south. In the morning, I’ll find a respectable married couple to accompany you north,’ he said firmly.
Dismayed, she stepped back and eyed him from top to toe. ‘N
o! You can’t. Besides, no respectable couple would pass the time of day with you. One look would be enough for them to go running for the sheriff.’
His scowl deepened and he brought his face close to hers. ‘That’s as maybe, my pretty boy,’ he growled. ‘But I tell you now that, even if I have to tie you up, I will keep you out of trouble.’
She paled. ‘Bind me, then. But where do you intend leaving me while you go on with your journey? Will you toss me up in a hayloft in the stables and forget about me?’
A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. ‘Now that’s a fine notion. Trouble is that I can’t forget you. I’d have to pay someone to feed and water you and I haven’t that much coin on me.’
She smiled. ‘That is a shame. I do believe we’ve reached stalemate, my lord.’
‘We have indeed, but I have a question to ask of you. Why have you followed me?’
She shrugged and her fine eyes wore a serious expression. ‘I cannot tell you. You would consider me more foolish than no doubt you already do.’
He had a sudden terrible thought that perhaps she was following him because she believed he would lead her to the battlefield where she would find Diccon Fletcher. ‘You’re right. The battlefield is no place for a woman,’ he said harshly. ‘You will return home. Do you hear me?’
She was chilled by the coldness of his demeanour.
‘I hear you, my lord. Now, if you’ll permit?’ she said tartly, tilting her chin. ‘I need to stable my horse.’
He grabbed her by the arm. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight.’
Her eyes flashed blue fire. ‘You’ll have to because there are certain matters a woman needs to attend to without the presence of a man. I have that need now.’
