by Alexa Aston
Now, as we’ve grown old, I’ve missed you even more than I thought possible. Your suggestion of a visit would be a soothing balm to my weary bones. I look forward to meeting this beautiful, intelligent granddaughter of yours and hearing her sing and play the lute. It reminds me of when the two of us thought we could write poetry and set it to song, trying to entice willing women to share kisses with us in darkened alcoves. How I wish we were young again and could live those days over again.
I have a grandson, the only child of Guy, my remaining son. As I write this, Guy is in poor health. It’s hard to think that my last surviving child might pass before I do. But my grandson, Edwin, is fine company, handsome and well-spoken, though a bit arrogant at times. I find it one thing to be confident but quite another to be an overconfident braggart. Edwin is only ten and eight, so I hope he will mature before I see my last days since everything will be entrusted to him to continue the Stollers’ family legacy.
Edwin is to be married in a few months’ time. ’Twould do my heart good to have you and Beatrice come for an extended stay at Brookhaven. You could help us welcome Edwin’s bride to our family and celebrate their marriage.
I hope you’ll make good on your promise and come to Brookhaven, Henry. I don’t think either of us will survive many more summers. I would consider it a pleasure to spend time with my oldest, dearest friend. Please come and stay as long as you can, for you and your granddaughter will always be welcome in my home.
I remain, as always, your loyal and faithful friend.
Henry
Beatrice read the message a second time. She smiled as she finished it, wishing that she and her grandfather could have traveled to Brookhaven together and spent time with Sir Henry.
And then she thought, Why not?
She believed that her grandfather had planned to ask Sir Henry to take her on as his ward. It would be impossible to remain at the manor house for long since she hadn’t the coin to pay rent. She could travel to Brookhaven and meet with her grandfather’s old friend. If he did become her guardian, Beatrice would repay him in many ways. She was quick with a needle and thread and cooked equally well. She could even entertain his guests with her lute playing. If Sir Henry provided her with a home, her worries could be laid to rest.
It concerned her that her grandfather would not be present to act as a bridge between them. If Sir Henry learned of his friend’s death, he might rescind his kind invitation. Beatrice knew if he did, she would have nowhere else to go.
Quickly, she pulled out parchment and ink to compose a reply to Sir Henry. She told him that she wrote on her grandfather’s behalf, as his hand had a troubling tremor. Since her grandfather had already sent a recent missive to the nobleman, Sir Henry wouldn’t be surprised by her words. Promising they would come to Brookhaven in the near future, she left their arrival date open and wrote that they would be there in time to attend the nuptial mass of Edwin Stollers and his bride. Beatrice gambled that once she arrived alone, Sir Henry would prove to be a gracious man and not turn her away.
After the ink had dried, she rolled the small parchment and melted wax to join the ends together before slipping her grandfather’s signet ring from his hand in order to seal the missive. She replaced the ring and left the room, making sure to close the door. She didn’t want the rider to see inside.
Beatrice hurried to the small kitchen where a lean man with kind eyes greeted her. As she expected, Tolly was nowhere in sight. The shy servant rarely spoke, so she knew he wouldn’t have lingered in the kitchen to gossip.
“I am Lady Beatrice Bordel. I hope Tolly saw to your needs?” she asked.
“He did, my lady, and he left to see my horse was taken care of, as well.”
She handed him the missive, which he tucked inside his cotehardie. “This is from my grandfather. He is resting now, but he asked that I be sure you were treated well before you returned to Sir Henry. May I pack any fresh bread or cheese for you as you make your way home?”
The man nodded. “I would appreciate that, my lady. I have a long ride ahead of me.”
His words caused her to ask, “Exactly how long does it take to reach Brookhaven? I’m curious because Sir Henry has asked Grandfather and me to come for an extended visit. He mentioned that we would see his grandson married if we arrived in time.”
“I managed to reach here in just over four days’ time, but that was by myself and on horseback, setting a brisk pace.”
Beatrice drew in a quick breath. Her heart fluttered nervously. “Oh, I can’t ride a horse. We’ll need to travel to the Stollers’ estate by cart.”
The courier thought a moment. “It will probably take you almost triple the time, my lady. Mayhap a bit more. The wedding is to take place in about three months, I believe, around the middle of November. I am sure it would please Sir Henry if you could manage to journey to Brookhaven by then. You could stay on through the Christmas holidays.” He laughed. “And probably longer. Brookhaven is far to the north and has much harsher weather than your fair southern clime. I’d advise that you stay on till spring to avoid returning on treacherous roads.”
“Thank you, sir. I will share this information with my grandfather.”
She heard the front door open and Tolly appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Your horse is ready.” He turned and left them.
“A man of few words,” the messenger noted.
“That describes Tolly quite well,” Beatrice said. “Give me a few minutes to gather things for you.”
“I’ll await you in the stable,” he replied.
She wrapped a chunk of cheese, a loaf of bread, and an entire roasted chicken that had been meant for the next few days’ meals. With the stag from this morning’s hunt, they would not be in need of meat for a while, so she could afford to be generous.
Beatrice took the food outside and wished the rider a safe journey before she returned to the house. It was time to open the strongbox and see exactly what they had for coin so she could decide her future. Before she reached the door, someone called out from the woods. Turning, she saw the priest making his way toward her.
She would see to her loved ones’ burial first—and then find out the state of her grandfather’s affairs.
*
Beatrice lifted the strongbox from its place in the corner of the room and carried it to the oak table. It was quite heavy, but she’d grown strong from hard work. Her hands lingered above the box. Hesitation would not change what she found inside it, so she inserted the key into the lock. Her grandfather had worn it on a chain around his neck and she had removed it before his burial yesterday.
She pulled out a few bits of parchment, probably letters that had meant something to him. One piece caught her eye when she saw two familiar names. Beatrice skimmed the contents of the page, which turned out to be the betrothal contract between her parents. She gasped at the bride price her grandfather had paid, a vast section of land. Vaguely, she remembered her mother mentioning once that the land had been sold by her father-in-law shortly after the wedding. The sale had added quite a bit of gold to the family coffers.
Setting the contract aside, she counted out twelve pieces of gold nestled at the bottom and stacked them on the table. It was more than she had expected. The money would give her a way to travel to Brookhaven in comfort and not arrive looking destitute. She found her mother’s pearl necklace and removed it with care. Beatrice held it up to the light and admired the sheen and size of each pearl. This has been her father’s wedding gift to her mother. She kissed the pearls reverently.
Beatrice remembered her parents laughing and dancing, embracing one another with deep love. The clarity of the memories hit her hard. She hadn’t known such happy memories existed. Though she appreciated them returning after seeing the necklace, it brought a bitter ache to her soul. Her parents had loved one another so completely.
Something she would never experience.
With trembling fingers, Beatrice opened the clasp and do
nned the jewelry. She would wear this piece always, in memory of them both. Though the necklace could be sold, she wouldn’t part with it for any sum. It was the last link to her parents and the past.
Beatrice glanced about the room and spied their few precious books on a shelf. She could take these with her on the journey to Brookhaven and hopefully find a place to sell them along the way. The furniture all belonged to the manor house. Beyond her few personal possessions, everything else—including the dishes, silver candlesticks, tapestries, and rugs—had come with the rental of the property. Everything she owned would easily fit into a small trunk for her trip north.
Her attention returned to the strongbox. She ran her fingers along the bottom and found the final item, a ruby ring. Tears welled in her eyes. This had been her mother’s wedding ring. Beatrice closed her eyes and could picture it on her mother’s hand. She opened her eyes and admired the rich color of the jewel set in gold. Her mother must have put it aside after her husband’s death, for Beatrice had not seen it in many years. Mayhap the ring had been too painful a reminder of the man her mother had loved and lost.
A sudden movement outside the window caught her eye. Beatrice raced to see who had arrived. It was as she feared.
Amfrid.
Quickly, she pocketed the ring and hurried to the table. She swept all but two of the gold coins from the table and placed them in her deep pocket, along with the key. Beatrice returned two coins and the papers to the chest and quickly took it to its place in the corner under a table. She folded the cloth that rested atop the table back over it, hiding the strongbox from view.
Amfrid knocked at the front door. She answered it since Tolly had gathered their remaining chickens and the goat to take to market to sell as they prepared to leave.
Beatrice took a calming breath and opened the door.
“Good afternoon—”
“I heard of Sir Henry’s death.” Amfrid pushed past her and strode into the room she had just vacated, having trouble fitting through the narrow doorway.
“Yes, both he and—”
“I am here to collect the rent due.” His piggish eyes swept across the room, assessing things.
“I know that Grandfather—”
“Where is the strongbox?” he demanded. “I need my monies immediately.”
She fought the bile rising in her throat. Beatrice had never been comfortable in this man’s presence, but her grandfather had always acted as a shield whenever Amfrid called upon them.
“I’ll fetch it.” Her legs felt like lead as she crossed the room and knelt where the strongbox sat. She lifted the cloth.
Amfrid hovered behind her. “I’ll get it.” He nudged her aside with a booted foot and dragged the strongbox from its place and carried it to the table.
She watched him lick his thick lips greedily as he stared at the strongbox.
“The key. You have it?”
“I do.” She eased it from her pocket because she didn’t want any of the hidden coins to jingle in her pocket. She handed it to Amfrid and he inserted it into the lock.
His eyes lit with anticipation when he threw back the lid. Beatrice thanked Christ Almighty that she’d had time to conceal most of the coins. If not, the landlord would’ve taken everything in the box and left her with nothing.
Amfrid tossed the papers aside, scattering them to the floor. He shoved both hands inside and felt around. A deep frown creased his brow. He removed the two gold coins she had placed inside the strongbox.
“This is everything?” he said in dismay. “Surely, he had more.”
Beatrice shook her head. “I cannot say. Grandfather never shared his business affairs with me. He only instructed me to be very careful with our household expenses.”
He held up a coin in each hand. “I can’t believe this is all that Sir Henry had to his name. It barely covers the rent that he owed.” Amfrid slipped the coins into his pocket and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Then his face lit up. “Actually, now that I think upon it, Sir Henry owed me much more than the value of these gold coins.”
Suddenly, Beatrice knew what he looked at.
The pearl necklace.
Wild thoughts raced through her head. She would do or say anything to keep this link to her parents.
“I am in the process of closing things up at the manor house. Before his death, Grandfather was going to take me north. To Brookhaven. To . . . to . . . my betrothed,” she sputtered. The lie came out before it had fully formed in her thoughts.
Beatrice saw the greedy landlord mull over her words.
She rushed to assure him. “I am sure that if Grandfather left any outstanding debts, my betrothed will make good on them. Let me know how much should be rendered and I’ll make sure that you receive payment.”
Amfrid took a step toward her and placed his meaty hands upon her shoulders. His fingers tightened till Beatrice almost gasped in pain, but she remained perfectly still.
He brought his face close to hers. His rank breath made her want to flinch, but she stood strong.
“Tell your betrothed that I am owed forty, no, fifty pieces of gold.”
Her eyes widened. “Surely, you must be mistaken. That amount would cover years of rent.”
He glared at her. “I keep careful records. I am never mistaken when it comes to money. I’ll expect your intended to pay me. In full.” His eyes gleamed. “Until then, I will keep this lovely bit of jewelry to guarantee I receive my payment.” He fingered the pearls, the back of his hand resting upon the curve of her breast.
“Please,” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears. “This necklace is the only thing of value that I possess. My father gave it to my mother and she passed it along to me. It has great sentimental value.”
Amfrid’s fingers returned to her shoulders and dug into her tender flesh. “Take the necklace off,” he ordered. He left no room for protest.
She did as he asked, reaching behind her neck and undoing the clasp. As she lowered the necklace, he snatched it from her. He inspected the pearls, looking quite pleased.
Seeing the prized possession in Amfrid’s hands caused something to break inside Beatrice. Without fear of the consequences, she plucked the necklace from his fingers.
“You can’t have this,” she boldly told the landlord. “I told you, my betrothed will make good on any of Grandfather’s debts.” She held the pearls close to her chest, unwilling to part with the only link she had to her mother.
Shock filled the man’s face. His gaze turned threatening. “Woman, give me those pearls now,” he warned, “or I’ll take them from you.”
Beatrice knew he would make good on his threat. There was nothing she could do. Reluctantly, she handed the necklace over to him. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her and took a step back. “Be sure you do not sell them,” she said, her tone icy. “I plan to pass these pearls along to my daughter one day.”
He snorted. “I won’t—as long as I receive payment from your husband-to-be.”
She had no way of ever retrieving the necklace. Even if she did, it was far more valuable than what he asked. She realized that, sooner or later, he would sell the necklace for a large profit. Especially when he did not receive word from her.
Amfrid pocketed the jewelry. “I bid you good day.” He crossed the room and exited the manor house.
Beatrice slumped to the floor. Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them aside, hating that she was a weak woman. A man would never have stood for such behavior. He would have called Amfrid out for his lies, challenging him to fight.
She vowed that she would learn to fight. And somehow, some way, she would acquire the money Amfrid demanded. Beatrice would see that pearl necklace around her neck once more.
Even if it was her last act upon earth.
Chapter Three
Raynor Le Roux gasped. “You stabbed me!” he said in disbelief as he looked down at his opponent.
Alys de Montfort gave him a triumphant smi
le. “Because you weren’t paying attention,” the child told him. “You taught Ancel and me that focus is the most important part of sparring.” She jabbed at him again with the wooden sword in her hand.
This time, he parried, turning aside and pushing against her sword. He knocked it from her hand. Alys scrambled to reclaim it, but Raynor put a booted foot on top of it.
She huffed out a long breath and tapped her foot impatiently. He stifled the laughter that threatened to erupt. Already, Alys resembled her mother, Merryn, in every way, from her tall, lithe frame to her chestnut hair and fiery temperament. Little Alys de Montfort was destined to be a beauty and a handful to the man that claimed her one day.
He retrieved the wooden sword that he’d fashioned for her. She had complained bitterly when he made one for her twin and demanded that he also make one for her—and teach her how to use it. Alys snatched the weapon from his hand.
“It’s almost time for me to go,” he told her, affectionately brushing a finger down her nose. “Fetch your brother. I’ll duel with you both one last time before I leave.”
Alys rewarded him with a sweet smile and skipped away.
Raynor’s gaze swept over the training yard where Lord Geoffrey de Montfort’s knights engaged in practice. Some fought in pairs, wielding swords or maces. Others worked one-on-one with a squire, putting them through their paces.
He would miss Kinwick.
Once, Raynor had hoped it would be his home and that Merryn would become his wife. He fingered the blue garter that he always carried in his pocket. He’d taken it from Merryn’s leg the day of her wedding to Geoffrey. But the turn of events in the last several months had written a much different story than the one Raynor had imagined.
His eyes found Geoffrey, who showed a young lad exactly how to wield a heavy bastard sword in two hands. The squire swung it awkwardly. Geoffrey patiently corrected him several times as he showed the boy how to move smoothly with the weapon.
