Music For My Soul

by Lauren Linwood

  Now that the knights had moved aside, Madeleine had a better view and could see the utter terror on Barth’s face. He was not a large man, shorter than she was, but he seemed to shrink within himself with each passing moment, thanks to Garrett’s silence.

  Madeleine gained a new respect for Garrett as she watched his control. She realized how eager he was to find out what this man knew, and yet he sat calmly, leisurely studying his servant. He leaned an elbow upon the arm of his chair, his chin resting atop his fist as he inspected the man before him.

  Barth wiggled and squirmed under such scrutiny, but Garrett’s gaze was unrelenting.

  Suddenly, Garrett asked, “Do you know why you were brought here, Barth?” His voice was low, but no one present had trouble hearing what he said.

  Barth wet his lips nervously. He looked at every conceivable nook and cranny in the room before he met Garrett’s eyes. “No, m’lord.” He attempted a casual air, but his voice wavered slightly. “Can’t say I do.”

  “No?” Garrett shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I thought you might have some idea.”

  Barth started to answer, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat noisily and tugged at the collar of his tunic. Finally, he answered, “No, m’lord. Haven’t got a clue.”

  Madeleine saw that his legs began to tremble. His lips quivered as he tried to form his words. “Well, it could have to do with, and I’m not saying I’m at fault, but it could be the drinking.”

  Garrett looked almost amused. “The drinking?” he questioned innocently.

  “Well, m’lord, I know you warned me ‘bout it, but every now and then I do like to take a nip.” He paused a moment and then nodded furiously. “Yes, I do believe it be me drinking.”

  “No.”

  The one word was all Garrett uttered. He sat motionless in his chair.

  Barth began fidgeting again. He scratched his head, and then a surprised look appeared upon his face. “Oh, o’ course. I know now. ‘Twould be about the fight.”

  “Fight?” Again, Madeleine thought Garrett look almost bored as he sat facing Barth.

  “Not the fight?” Barth asked weakly.

  “You mean the fight with John? The one where you fought dirty and almost blinded him in one eye?” Garrett shook his head. “No, I don’t think ‘tis that either.”

  Barth’s face began to show his rising panic and flushed dark red above his beard. Nervously, he bit a nail, then another, as the room remained silent. He finally realized what he was doing and quickly lowered his hand from his mouth. He swallowed hard a time or two and then muttered, “Must be ‘bout the girl.” His eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped.

  Garrett sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees, his hands clasped together. “I know about no girl, Barth.”

  Barth winced.

  “Do you want to tell me about this girl? Who is she? What do I need to hear about the matter?”

  Barth blurted out, “’Tis Sarah. She’s going ta have a babe, and she says ‘tis mine!” He shook his head back and forth vigorously. “But cannot be, m’lord.”

  Garrett sighed. “Why would I have expected better from you, Barth?”

  The man trembled in both legs and hands now. “Oh, I’ll do better, m’lord. I promise ye that. Yes, old Barth will do much better in the future. Ye can count on me.”

  Garrett did not mince words. “As I counted on you to take care of Lady Montayne?”

  The sudden switch in subject startled Madeleine, although she had known it would come. As for Barth, his previously flushed face whitened immediately. He tried to speak, but the words didn’t form beyond a wheeze.

  “What can you tell me about Lady Montayne’s disappearance four years ago, Barth?” When the serf didn’t answer, he snapped, “I want the truth. Now. All of it.”

  As he spoke, Garrett stood and moved closer to the bearded man. He leisurely reached into his purse and removed Lynnette’s necklace. He held it in front of him, letting it rock back and forth as a pendulum, just inches from the serf’s face.

  “No,” Barth whispered. “It cannot be.” He turned to run, but the guards surrounded him, leaving his only way of escape through Garrett. He shrank back and turned in circles, trapped as a rat by an army of large cats.

  Garrett’s features were now hard as stone. “I want answers. Truthful answers.”

  The servant fell to his knees. “Ye’re such a hard man, m’lord. Ye expect so much of us. ‘Twas fear that kept me from coming ta ye. Everyone ‘round Stanbury way knows how ye . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Knows what, Barth?”

  Madeleine stole a look at Garrett from the corner of her eye. He glared at Barth in anger, his fists balled at his sides.

  “That I kept you on, despite your drinking and carelessness, because of your family? Or that I demand things be done right? A fair day’s work for a fair day’s wage?”

  “Fair?” Barth hissed. “Ye’re as mean as Satan Himself. Ye should suffer as long and hard as I have.”

  Garrett remained remarkably cool. Only his eyes were ablaze. As Barth’s eyes met his master’s, Madeleine saw the dawning moment of defeat in them.

  Silence blanketed the room. All that could be heard was Barth’s labored breathing. At last he blurted out, “I might as well tell ye the truth. Though it ‘tweren’t my fault at all, no, not at all. ‘Twere an accident.”

  Garrett moved away.

  Barth seemed to relax a bit with the distance Garrett placed between them. He rubbed his one good eye and sighed.

  “Tell me about the day Lady Montayne disappeared,” Garrett demanded.

  “I’d been havin’ a nip behind the barn, just ta tide me over, when Lady Montayne came fer her horse.” He squinted, as if he could see it in his mind’s eye. “’Twas the new one, the filly with the temper. She be a bit hard for m’lady ta handle, but she were determined to ride her.”

  “I remember. Go on.”

  “She were in such a hurry. She always were. Rushin’ me here and there, distractin’ me with all sorts of foolish questions. How’s a man to concentrate with all that female prattlin’ goin’ on? Can’t do my work properly at all, if’n ye know what I mean.”

  A spasm of coughs interrupted Barth’s tale for a minute. When he recovered he said, “Then our reeve Stephen showed up, hurryin’ me. Said he had important things ta do and would I please get the saddles on? He didn’t have no time to be ridin’ all ‘round with Lady Montayne anyhows.” Barth cleared his throat with a miserable sound. “Nobody appreciates me, ye know. Never did. Not Mrs. Barth, not my little ‘uns, not no one. At least until that day. Then our reeve done owe me. He appreciated me fer all my help in the matter.”

  Madeleine shuddered involuntarily. She had never liked Stephen. He’d seemed efficient in his work, but she had never forgotten the pleasure he’d taken talking about the typhus running rampant through London when he’d returned from one of his trips there.

  Barth scanned his audience, seemingly pleased he had all their attention now. “Stephen told me when they begun to ride hard, the girth suddenly came undone. If’n she just hadn’t rushed me, I could’ve saddled the horse properly. But, no, m’lady fell from the horse when the saddle did. The horse spooked and trampled her, it did. Her skull done be crushed.”

  The silent horror on the faces of those present was deafening. All had been led believe that Lynnette had run away with this secret lover. And all along, the reeve had been present at her death. He’d lied to Garrett all these years.

  She observed the tension surging through Garrett from head to toe. Madeleine wanted to call a halt to this sordid tale, but she knew Garrett must hear it till the end.

  Barth continued, more unsure of himself now as he took in the cold looks from those gathered in the solar.

  “Stephen came an’ got me ta help him. M’lady was all broken and crumpled on the ground. He told me ‘twere my fault.”

  Barth’s shoulders heaved, and he
began to cry. “We took her jewels and buried her in the forest.”

  He raised his head toward Garrett, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In a pleading tone, he said, “We knew yer temper. Ye’re Ryker’s son, after all. We knew we’d both be blamed. That it’d be the end of us both.”

  He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Stephen had me take the horse and ride it to London. I were to sell it there and the jewels, too. He said he’d cover for me, that I weren’t to worry ‘bout being missed. He said he’d fix things for us both.”

  Barth smiled satisfactorily. “An’ he were right. Nobody suspected a thing at all.” His mouth hung in a surly pose. “Till now.”

  “Do you remember where the grave is?” Garrett’s voice rang hollowly in the room.

  Barth nodded wearily.

  Garrett motioned his men-at-arms. Once again they surrounded Barth, whose pitiful sobs filled the room.

  “Ash? Take three men and find Stephen. We’ll meet up in the outer bailey.”

  He paused a moment and then said quietly, “I must see the grave. I must see it for myself.”

  Chapter 26

  The hour grew late, and much of the household had bedded down. She had comforted his mother as best she could before Edith excused herself and went to her room.

  Madeleine scanned the Great Hall for one of the guards that had accompanied Garrett.

  Ashby came up quietly and took her elbow. He wore a weary expression across his normally smiling face.

  “Where’s Garrett?” she whispered as he drew her away from the hall.

  He led her outside, where the air was briskly blowing. A full moon hung low in the sky, its golden tones bathing the inner bailey in soft light.

  “Did you find Lynette’s grave?”

  Ashby nodded. “Yes. ‘Twas just as Barth had described. Stephen put up quite a struggle and tried to break and run when we reached the site. Garrett sent him directly to the dungeon, even before we began to dig.” He shrugged. “Barth was quite helpful. Maybe he thought Garrett would go more easily on him if he cooperated.”

  “And what will Garrett do with them?”

  “I wish I knew.” He scanned the sky as if he could find the answers painted across the stars. “He’s been so angry, so bitter, for so long. Now it seems all the fight’s gone out of him.”

  “Where is he, Ashby? I felt sure he’d come back to me.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. He supervised as the men dug up Lynnette’s body. He had her wrapped in linens and brought back inside the gates. He mentioned visiting with the priest. He wants a memorial mass first thing tomorrow for her soul.” Ashby wiped his hand across his brow drawing her attention to the fatigue lines edging his eyes and mouth. “I thought after that he would come to you.” He took her hand. “You have done him a world of good, Madeleine. The change in him is so great. If he didn’t have you right now, I don’t know how he’d make it through these next few days.” He brushed his lips against her brow in a brotherly gesture. “Help him, Madeleine. Keep him sane.” He turned to go back inside. “Coming?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “No. I think I’ll sit here on the steps and think a bit.” She waited for Ashby to depart. She now knew where Garrett was, and she intended to go to him.

  She wrapped her arms around her for warmth, regretting that she hadn’t thought to bring a cloak with her. The wind picked up as she made her way across the meadow, awash in bright moonlight. The field felt so strange now, empty of the stalls and tents that the mummer’s troupe had brought. Summer solstice seemed so long ago.

  She picked up her pace as best she could and crossed the length of the grassland. As she approached their rock, she saw Garrett’s silhouette in the moonlight.

  He must have heard her, for he lifted his head and met her gaze. Even in the dim light, she could tell his face was ravaged with grief.

  Wordlessly, he slid from the rock’s surface and met her, enveloping her in the warmth of his arms. He held her close for many minutes, no words necessary between them.

  At last he relaxed his embrace and cocked his head to one side and with a weary smile asked, “Will you never learn to put on a cloak?”

  She half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I seem to have a knack of running into men with cloaks to spare.”

  Garrett lifted her upon the rock and climbed up beside her, opening his cloak and wrapping the comforting fabric around them both. He smelled of the outdoors, the woods, the cold, and that very masculine scent she’d come to love. She felt utterly safe within his arms.

  They stared over the empty field, neither breaking the silence that surrounded them.

  “You know,” he finally said, “she was a gentle soul. Always kind to the servants. Always willing to please everyone.” His mouth tightened. “She didn’t deserve to die that way and lie in an unmarked grave all this time.” He paused. “She didn’t deserve my hateful thoughts all these years.”

  “I’m sorry, Garrett.” She pressed his hand. “You know ‘twasn’t your fault.” She wiped the single tear trailing down his cheek. “And you’ve found her now. She’ll be buried properly. That’s got to be of some comfort.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I must tell Lissa. Mayhap you can help me with that. I want everyone at Stanbury to attend the mass tomorrow. She’ll be buried in the family plot afterward.”

  “And Barth? Stephen?”

  “’Tis out of my hands.” He shook his head. “The royal circuit court will decide their fates. They’ll be held in the dungeon till the court comes ‘round the end of next month.” He sighed in the darkness. “Thank God I have you, my love.”

  Madeleine snuggled close to him, his warmth like a siren’s call to her body.

  He pressed his lips to hers tenderly. “I may have fallen in love with you at this very spot,” he told her. “I remember that kiss as if it were yesterday.”

  Madeleine shivered. She had wanted him that night more than anything, but she’d run away instead. She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to each finger. “I doubt I’ll run from you this time, my lord. You see, I love you with all my heart, too.”

  He stared deeply into her eyes. Even with the ache for Lynnette’s passing in his heart, Madeleine had brought him complete happiness for the first time in his life.

  “Before you, sweetheart, I was empty. But you and your music filled me with love. You are the music for my soul.”