Ever since a woodworker had come to Bainford seeking sanctuary, the small carvings had turned up in the strangest places. He’d found one in the garderobe, the stables, and a carved cat in the corner of the dungeon.
The man was a fourth son with no prospects, and as he did not wish to join the monastery, he entered the gates, asked to speak to Richard, and offered his skill in exchange for a bed and meals. In the man’s favor, he did not flinch or cross himself—he met Richard’s gaze, and when he accepted, the man fell to his knees, grateful. Hrumph.
Edwin took the carved wolf. “The lads offered Merry aid in catching the chickens. She is making chicken pie for supper.”
“Mayhap I should ask,” Richard said as he pulled on his boots. “Where were the chickens this time?”
The long-suffering sigh from his steward said what Richard had felt these past months. The castle had gone from a dozen souls to a score and three. Orphan children appeared as if left by the faeries. Some were left by their parents; others made their own way. The king could make good use of such knowledgeable spies.
How did they know to come to Bainford? When asked, Richard heard the same answer: they heard on the road or in the tavern or on the streets.
“Never mind. ’Tis better I do not know. I’ll sort them out.”
“As you say, my lord.” Edwin shuffled across the floor. “One was in your solar, sitting on the stool before the fire.”
Richard covered his ears. “Nay, do not tell me more.” Blasted chickens. He ignored the state of his hall as he strode outside. The walls were bare, the decayed paneling ripped down and removed by the Irish, the furniture was sparse, and the table coverings all chewed by vermin. Then again, his coffers, cellar, and larder were full and his tunics clean. Outside, the sun warmed his bones. Mayhap this was the best life he could hope for.
The Irishmen finished repairs to the chapel and garrison. Next they would see to his hall. The outer walls would withstand any attack, the moat was full of fish, and the drawbridge was new and sturdy. The past two years had been filled with much-needed work, and if Richard caught sight of his ruined visage, he simply looked away. There were enough children at Bainford; he had no need of a wife and could seek out a wench if needs be. If he kept telling himself, perchance he would believe it to be so.
A carriage accompanied by five riders rolled into the courtyard, and he found himself besieged on all sides.
“I see the walls are in good repair, though you’ve need of more men to guard the place.” Garrick dismounted, brushing the dust from his hose.
The door to the carriage opened, and two women stepped out, followed by two children. Mouth slack, Richard watched. Saints, not more of the imps.
“Richard, I have brought you two chairs. Garrick says you’ve nowhere to sit in this decrepit hall of yours.”
“Edith. You traveled all the way from London in this weather? Is your husband vexing you again?” Richard embraced Garrick’s eldest sister. “Where are the rest of your fetching sisters?”
She sniffed. “Busy having babes and running their households. Margery is still unwed, if you have decided to marry.”
Richard looked to Garrick, who backed away, holding his hands out. “I want no part of womanly schemes.” He grinned over his shoulder. “I’m for the lists. If you’re wise, you’ll join me anon.”
Richard proffered his arm to Edith, careful to keep her on his left so she would not suffer to look upon him.
“Shall I run your husband through? You always wanted to visit distant lands.”
She patted his arm. “Nay. I will poison him if he becomes troublesome.”
“Mistress?” The serving woman stayed close to the carriage.
“Come along,” Edith said.
The woman crossed herself. “Nay, I cannot. The beast will kill me and eat the children.”
Richard knew that look of displeasure on her face. He stepped back, for there was no stopping Edith when she was in a temper.
“You will take the children to the kitchens and wait for me there. I will have no talk of beasts. Lord Bainford saved my brother’s life. Say another word and I will see you beaten.”
Wetness leaking down her face, the girl nodded. “Yes, mistress.”
“Tales of the black keep with its demon have spread to London.” Edith rolled her eyes. “I see you find this most pleasing. I brought gifts.”
“Aye. I see the gifts quite well with my one eye.” Richard snorted. The chairs were but a bribe for him to take in two more children.
The girl hid behind the servant while her brother darted looks at him. The boys were terrified and fascinated at the same time. Richard scowled and hid a grin when the boy ducked behind the servant’s skirts.
He saw Edith settled in one of the new chairs before the fire then sent the servants for wine.
“In truth, you will always find sanctuary here,” Richard said. “I will not let your husband use you ill.”
Edith stretched her toes before the fire. “Everand does not beat me. He is too busy with his mistress.” She patted his hand. “Do not worry overmuch; my sisters live close by and are fine company. I have two children and a home. It is enough.”
Edith was the eldest, then Garrick. There were six other sisters: Meg, Ella, Beatrice, Beverly, Heloise, and little Margery.
“Has Margery any prospects for suitors?” Garrick had wished for Richard to wed the girl, but he refused. ’Twas enough to see the loathing on the merchants’ faces. He would not bear such from a wife. Nay, he would rather be alone.
“The blacksmith will offer for her. It is a good match.” Edith accepted the goblet of wine from the servant. They sat in silence while Richard waited for her to tell him the reason for her visit.
Edith cleared her throat. “You know what is being said about you in London?”
“I can guess.” Richard looked at his blue tunic and hose. Both had been mended many times. ’Twas time to send for the merchant for more cloth. His men and the children also required new clothing, so he would see it done as much as it pained him.
“Can you?” Cool gray eyes met his.
She was plain, yet he found her eyes reminded him of a winter sky, and the kindness he saw within made her beautiful.
“No one willingly ventures here,” she continued. “You cannot keep men nor servants; they run shrieking from your hall. Why do you encourage these rumors? There are tales of parents leaving their changeling children at the gates of Bainford for the beast to eat. Others tell of tying up orphans and leaving them as sacrifices to the beast to ensure a good harvest.”
“Superstitions. You know ’tis not true.”
“Aye. But men are foolish, and I do not wish to hear my brother was killed fighting a mob come to drive away the devil.”
“I wish to be left alone. Garrick is free to go where he pleases.” Richard drained his wine.
Edith looked at his hall, her nose wrinkled at the dirty rushes on the floor and bare walls. He had been busy with the outer defenses these past years. There were no longer holes in his roof—the rest of the hall could wait.
“Garrick is loyal.” She cocked her head. “As are you. To a fault.” Edith placed a hand on his arm. “There is one truth in the rumors. I see the children.”
“I will not turn them away.”
“Nay, I know this, Richard,” she said softly. “’Tis why I brought the boy and the girl.”
“There was nowhere for them in London?”
Her gray dress swept the floor as she took his arm and walked with him around the hall.
“Their parents died. I was buying cloth when I saw them. They had been caught stealing bread. You know what happens to orphan children. I could not leave them, and Everand would not feed beggars.” She held up a hand. “I do not want your gold—we have enough, but not enough to feed any more mouths.”
Edith frowned as two dogs ran through the hall chased by two boys, shrieking like the very hounds of hell Richard was oft compared to.<
br />
She sighed, hands on her hips. “Wade has seven years and Maron five. The children need a home and you need servants. The boy can work in the stables, the girl in the gardens—what is left of them.”
Richard knew when he was bested. “I will see to them.”
She nodded and looked away, rubbing her eyes, but not before Richard saw her leaking. He might have rolled his eye had he not found a speck of dust preventing him from doing such.
In the morn, after a bout in the lists with Garrick, Richard saw Edith off then went in search of the children. He found them staring into the moat.
Crouching beside them, he peered into the dark water. “What do you see?”
The girl jumped. But the boy pointed. “Fish.”
“Aye. There are some big ones swimming in there. Good eating.” Richard eyed the urchin. “Do ye fish?”
“I cannot swim. How do I catch them?” His clothes were tattered and stained. The way he scratched told Richard the boy would have to bathe or spread lice to all the children.
“Robin will show you.” He looked to the girl. She was sitting still as if she might escape his notice if she did not move.
“Maron. Why did you and your brother steal?” Richard kept his gaze on the water, not wanting to startle the child. Edwin was fond of telling him he bellowed like the giants of old.
She was dirty, her hair matted, yet he could see a smile under the hair she kept over her face.
“We tried to work but none would have us. And we was hungry.”
“Our parents died of a sickness,” the boy said. “Then we had no place to live, so we slept in old buildings.” He met Richard’s gaze but did not flinch at what he saw. “I kept Maron safe. She is my responsibility.”
Richard respected that. “You will not steal from me.”
“Nay, my lord,” they said.
“If you do, I will eat you.”
The boy jumped, and Richard grinned. “Nay, methinks you would not have enough meat on you to feed the beast.” Then he struck true fear into their little hearts. “If you wish to live here at Bainford, you will have a bath and clean clothes.”
The children looked stricken. They whispered, then Wade and his sister stood, shoulder to shoulder.
“We will bathe, my lord.”
“Go find Merry. She will give you new clothes.” Richard stood, his leg sore from crouching so long. “After, you will have a proper meal.”
It seemed Bainford had become the home of lost souls, damaged men, and orphans.
Chapter 7
So cold. Wait. Why was it freezing cold? Groggy and disoriented, Chloe woke fully to find she’d wrapped the tablecloth around her and was shivering. Something wet hit her face.
“What the heck?”
It was snowing. It didn’t snow in England in July.
“No, no, no.” She stumbled over to where she’d left her bike, only to find someone had happened by and stolen it while she was sleeping.
Chloe pulled the blanket tighter, walking around where she’d sworn she’d left the bike. There were no footprints or tire tracks. How long had it been snowing? “Long enough to cover the thief’s tracks, obviously.”
Even worse, the unknown person had taken her e-reader and phone, too. No reading material and no way to call and check in with her family. Her mom was going to be furious by the time Chloe made it back to town, reported the bike missing, and replaced the electronics. At least everything was stored in the cloud so she hadn’t lost anything other than the devices, which were expensive enough, but she was trying to look on the bright side, thank you very much.
Thank the stars the crossbody bag containing her money and passport hadn’t been stolen. Likely because she’d used it as a pillow. Nearby trees offered shelter from the fat, fluffy snowflakes as she leaned against a wide trunk and then slid down to sit on a fallen tree and take stock of the situation.
“Time to see what you do have.”
She emptied the crossbody bag at her feet, grateful she hadn’t worn flip-flops. Flip-flops in the snow. A half-hysterical laugh escaped before she clapped a hand over her mouth. Some kind of humming noise emanating off the stones made her want to be quiet.
Let’s see. She had her passport, money, lip balm, and the bag of coins from Granda. There were a couple of ponytail holders, a candy bar, and a small box of matches she’d gotten from a pub because she liked the logo.
From town to the stones was a couple of miles. No one had passed by when she’d ridden to the stones, nor the entire time she’d been there, so it was not likely she’d luck out and catch a ride. Chloe could hear her mom’s voice screaming that she was going to be murdered hitchhiking, but Chloe figured it was more likely she’d be picked up by a little old lady who fed her biscuits and tea and showed her a million pictures of her grandkids or little toy dogs.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” Chloe muttered as she traipsed through the snow, her feet wet and freezing from the slush filling her shoes. Why hadn’t she splurged and bought the pair of bright pink Hunter rain boots like she’d seen girls on the street wearing, instead of going with her comfortable sneaker mules?
Without her phone, Chloe didn’t know how much time had passed, only that her teeth were chattering, she couldn’t feel her toes, and there was no sign of the road. How had the snow gotten so deep so fast? It had to be a freak storm. Tomorrow the sun would come out, it would be in the low seventies, and this would all be a distant memory.
Onward she trudged, until Chloe had to admit the facts. She had no coat, impractical shoes, and was completely lost.
The pale sun sat low in the sky when she finally came to some sort of sketchy-looking pub. Talk about rustic. But the smell of freshly baked bread and some kind of soup or stew made her mouth water. When she pushed the door open, she stopped, blinking, her mouth open, trying to take in what her eyes were seeing, but her mind was refusing to comprehend.
“Hell’s bells,” she muttered, using one of her gram’s favorite expressions. It was smoky inside, but at least it was warm, with a roaring fire going in the fireplace. Smells assaulted her nose. The good smells of bread and stew mixed with the smell of old beer and body odor, and she sniffed again. Wet dog. Yuck.
“Don’t stand there gaping.” A girl about her age stood in front of Chloe, dressed in a long dress with a dirty apron over it.
“I get it. This is one of those tourist places.” Relief filled Chloe once she’d made sense of the oddly dressed patrons. The waitress led her over to a small table tucked into the corner by the fire.
“Lost your coat, did ye?” The girl looked Chloe up and down, frowning. “’Tis an odd cloak. I’ve never seen the like. I’ll fetch you a cup of ale and a nice bowl of stew.” She bustled away, leaving Chloe to warm her frozen bits and take in the surroundings.
The roof was thatched, and the walls had what looked like mud and straw holding them together, with a few spots where the cold air whistled in through the chinks. There were rough tables and benches placed haphazardly about, with a few tiny tables tucked into the corners of the room.
Everyone looked so authentic. The men wore rough peasant garb, with a few wearing tunics and hose, while the women wore simple dresses. There hadn’t been any mention of this place in the information Chloe had read about the town. She must have been so excited to see the stones that she’d completely missed it. Wait until she told Jules and Lola. They’d love this place…though maybe not the smell.
The waitress came back with a wooden bowl filled with a savory vegetable stew, a chunk of brown bread, and a cup of ale. Starved, Chloe dug in. Fascinated by the tableau in front of her, she bit down on the bread and winced.
It was a tiny pebble. So that was a little too authentic for her tastes. She placed it on the table and took another bite, only to find more pebbles.
This time, she looked closely at the patrons, unease bubbling up within her. The waitress came by and refilled her cup.
“Can you believe this snow? It was s
unny and warm this morning.”
The girl took a step back. “Been snowing for a se’nnight, mistress. And colder this winter than last.”
Chloe put the spoon down. “Pardon? Did you say winter?”
The girl gave her a look like she was totally clueless. “Aye. Winter.”
“Um…if you don’t mind me asking. What month is it?”
The girl crossed herself. “The first day of November, mistress.” And she scurried away, whispering to another server.
“November.” Chloe snorted. That was funny. It was July. Summer, not winter. Was she dreaming?
Careful to keep the tablecloth wrapped around her, she reached up and pinched the underside of her arm.
“Ouch. Okay, then. Not hallucinating.” Thank goodness the tan tablecloth looked enough like linen that she fit in, at least while sitting. It dragged on the ground too, so no one could see her shoes. A funny feeling swirled through her, but before she could give voice to the thoughts, the door banged open and three men stumbled in. They looked rough, typical ruffians come to create mayhem for the guests. Chloe wondered where the restaurant had found them.
No one broke character. So either this was like Disney, where the workers had to stay in character no matter what, or they were filming one of those reality shows where people lived like they did in the past to see if they could make a go of it. There had been a Victorian show she’d remembered a while back that was similar.
Trying not to call attention to herself and mess up the filming, Chloe looked for the cameras. As she was wondering if the people were wearing cameras as well, a snippet of conversation had her leaning toward the sound to hear the patrons at the table next to her. It was something about their tone that had caught her attention.
There were three waitresses huddled together by the wall, talking in low voices.
“Aye, my sister went to work for the beast and never returned.”
“Beast?” Chloe said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but is there an escaped animal running around?”
The girl with a long red braid put her hands on her hips, looked around the room, and then nodded. All three of them huddled around Chloe’s table.
A Moonlit Knight_A Knights Through Time Romance Page 4
