Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “What’s the matter? Didn’t you like my kiss?” She sounded sorely disappointed.

  He liked it all right. A little too much. But he had to remind himself that she was only doing it to try to control the situation. She was only a merchant’s daughter. He couldn’t let this continue any further. He could have any servant he wanted to warm his bed, and probably a few ladies who were widows as well. But she was different. She wasn’t of the noble class, nor was she of the peasant class. She was somewhere in between, and he wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

  “You are trying to distract me from the matter at hand and we both know it.”

  “What matter?” she asked innocently, and for a mere second he almost believed she had forgotten. Damn, her ability to change a situation and pretend she didn’t know what the circumstances were, was astounding. She said she feared him, but he knew now it was only a tale she’d spun. Because no woman he knew – noble nor peasant – would be daring enough to play this game with him right now, the way she did.

  “I’ll not stand in bilge water up to my ankles playing this addled game any longer. Now come with me and we’ll continue this conversation when we get inside Hastings Castle.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs.

  “The castle? How exciting. I’ve never been in a castle before. Is it yours?”

  Why did she have to ask that? How he’d like to say at this moment that it was. Something made him want to impress her, and he didn’t understand why.

  “We are in Hastings, my dear. I am the lord of New Romney if you have so forgotten. The castle belongs to my good friend, Lord John Montague, also a baron of the Cinque Ports.”

  “So is he more important than you since you only have a manor house?”

  He had just gotten to the deck, and stopped suddenly at hearing those words. She crashed into him, then pulled back quickly.

  “Nay, all the Barons of the Cinque Ports are just as important. Matter of fact, I’m more important since New Romney is a lead port.”

  “Then why don’t you have a castle?” she asked, batting her eyelids, looking like a confused doe. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap her or kiss her right now. Either way, she wouldn’t embarrass him like this again in front of his men.

  “Captain, what have you got there?” he heard someone call out. His quartermaster, his steward, his squire, and also his entire crew gathered around eyeing her up.

  “It’s a girl,” he spat. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Aboard the ship?” asked his quartermaster.

  “In the hold?” asked his steward.

  “She’s the girl from New Romney who owes you a huge debt, isn’t she?” his squire so graciously pointed out in front of everyone. Now he had to reprimand her or do something to punish her. If not, he would lose all respect of his men.

  “That’s right,” said Nicholas. “Where is my rent?” He looked directly at the girl.

  “I . . . I . . .” her eyes scanned the rest of the crewmembers, and she looked as if she wanted to run again. He heard the boarding plank being pushed into place and knew he’d have to keep a close eye on her, or as soon as he turned his back she’d disappear again. “I don’t have the money – yet,” she told him. “But please, my lord, just give me some time.”

  “My lord, if I may speak freely?” asked his squire, leaning over to talk in a soft voice.

  “Go ahead, Roger,” he said, keeping his eyes fastened to the girl.

  “I heard from the alewives this morning that the guild came and confiscated most everything she owns. It seems her father wracked up quite a few debts before he died.”

  “Is this true?” He watched as a shadow crossed her face and her eyes welled up with a newfound wetness. He didn’t like it when a woman cried.

  “It’s true,” she said, looking to the ground. “They’ve taken everything of importance, including my father’s loom.”

  “Where is the boy that was with you yesterday?”

  “Isaac, my brother, has hopefully gone to work for another guild member. When I return, I won’t even have anywhere to stay past the end of the month. Please don’t take the land away too. It is all I have left.”

  She dropped to her knees then, right in front of everyone, and started groveling at his feet. He wasn’t sure she wouldn’t start kissing his boots next. He needed to do something to stop her.

  “Get up,” he growled. When she didn’t respond, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. That’s when he noticed a ring on her finger. “Get back to work,” he instructed his men, and they all left except for his squire. “What’s this?” he asked the girl, holding up her hand to see the ring. “I didn’t think you were married.” The sunlight hit the ruby gemstone just then, making the red glitter and twinkle. The band looked to be made of gold.

  “I’m not married. It was my mother’s ring,” she said, pulling her hand away and holding it against her chest in a protective manner.

  “It seems to me a piece like that could well pay off all your debts and secure you a place to live and food to eat for quite some time. So tell me . . . why haven’t you sold it for coin by now?”

  “I can’t!” she spat, fire shooting from her eyes. “This is the last memory I have of my mother. My father also used his dying breath to tell a friend to give it to me.”

  “Well, I guess it’s mine now, isn’t it?” He reached out and grabbed her hand and yanked the ring right off her finger. After he’d done it, the look in her eyes turned to one of hatred. She acted as if he’d just deflowered her in front of the whole crew.

  “And I almost thought you had a heart. What a mistake I’ve made,” she snarled.

  He didn’t like to hear a woman speak to him that way. He liked to be known as gentle and caring around the ladies, and as a chivalrous knight who would protect women no matter what status of life they were from. Plus, she needed to show respect since he was a baron.

  “Come with me,” he growled, taking her by the wrist and pulling her over the deck of the ship and down the boarding plank. His squire hurried right behind them, carrying Nicholas’s travel bag over his shoulder.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded to know.

  “I told you, I’m taking you to the castle.”

  “Still? Even though my debt is now paid by you stealing my ring?”

  “Stealing?” That irritated him more than anything, and he stormed down the pier with her in tow. He knew his legs were much longer than hers and he purposely set a brisk pace, making her struggle to keep up. “It seems to me you’re the one who has been stealing my land for months now, since you’ve neglected to pay your rent.”

  She didn’t have a chance to answer. Once they got down the pier and to the wharf, they were joined by Lord John and Lord Conlin.

  “Romney, about time you got here,” said Lord John with a chuckle. “I thought for sure your ship was faster than that.”

  “Isn’t that the girl from the Romney docks?” asked Lord Conlin, cocking his head to get a good look at Muriel.

  “Aye,” he answered. “She stowed away in my ship’s hold.”

  “She did?” John laughed in amusement.

  “Why?” asked Conlin, always being the most practical out of the three of them.

  “She was trying to escape me, that’s why.” Nicholas still held onto her wrist.

  “Oh, because of the debt,” said Conlin with a nod of his head, remembering now.

  “My debt is now paid,” the girl spat. “So why am I still having to follow you?”

  “Because,” he said, looking at the ring in his hand. “I’ve decided I have no need for this ring after all, and I’d rather have the coin. I also know how much this means to you, so I’m considering giving it back.”

  “You are?” asked the girl as well as both the barons at the same time.

  “Oh, thank you!” A smile replaced her frown. Her cheeks were rosy and there was a sparkle in her eyes. He drank in the memory, because he knew wi
th his next words he wouldn’t see that again in a long time.

  “Don’t thank me so fast,” he said, putting the ring into his pocket. “You have to earn the ring back.”

  “What?” Her eyes snapped up and searched his face and then flashed over to look at his friends as well.

  “Ah,” said John. “She will be a nice addition to your bedchamber.”

  “Comely too,” added Conlin in agreement.

  “You want me to – to . . .” With her eyes wide, she bit her bottom lip and looked to the ground.

  “I never said that,” he answered, enjoying seeing her squirm. “But to get the ring back you will come to live at my manor house as soon as we return to New Romney, and you will be my Personal Clothier.”

  “Me? Nay.” She shook her head. “I am just a spinster.”

  “I’ve heard you weave as well.”

  “I do, but you don’t want me, my lord. I’m not that good at weaving. It’s my brother who has that skill. My talents lie in spinning wool only.”

  “Then perhaps he should come to live at Romney Manor as well,” Nicholas said in finality. “Once we return, you and Isaac can be my Personal Clothiers. Yes, I like that idea,” he said with a satisfied nod. “I will have a professional spinster and an experienced weaver at my command.”

  He saw her opening her mouth to speak and interrupted her before she could protest.

  “Unless you would rather go back to living your life in town. I can keep the ring and your debt will be paid.”

  She seemed perplexed and bit her lip and looked out at the sea when she spoke. “So . . . if I agree to your offer . . . my brother and I won’t be free anymore, but rather acting as your servants?”

  “Nay, I never said that. You are free to leave anytime you want. But if you or your brother leave my service before I feel that you have truly earned back this ring – then I assure you, you will never see it again. Because I only make an offer once – and I don’t like to be turned down.”

  He was glad he couldn’t read her mind right now, because if he could he was sure he would need to throw her in the stocks for what she was thinking of him.

  Chapter Four

  Muriel fumed as she sat waist deep in a barrel of hot water, being scrubbed down by the servants of Hastings Castle. It felt good to get the stench of the bilge water off her body, but she was used to doing her own bathing and dressing, and didn’t like it at all.

  “I’m capable of washing myself,” she said, pushing their hands away.

  “But my lady, Lord Romney ordered us to do this,” answered one of the servants.

  “I’m not a lady!” she spat, then had an idea. If they thought she was a lady, they would follow her orders. “I command you to leave me now, and don’t bother me again.” It worked like a charm. The servants gathered up some things, curtsied and left without another word. She finished washing her hair, and left the tub, wrapping a drying cloth around her body. She looked around the room for her gown, then cursed when she found it missing.

  “God’s eyes, they’ve taken my gown!”

  A deep voice sounded from behind her. “It stank worse than the muck filling the town’s streets after having soaked up half the sea, and needed to be cleaned.”

  She turned around, surprised to see Lord Nicholas standing in the doorway with a drab, plain servant’s gown in his hands.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “The servants were afraid to bring this in here. They said you ordered them out of the room and told them not to return.” He walked over and placed the clothes on the bed.

  “That is the attire of a servant.”

  “It’s all that’s available for now. And you only need to wear it until your gown has dried.”

  “I am a merchant, not of peasant stock.”

  “Wear it, or don’t wear it, I don’t really care. As far as I’m concerned, you can walk around naked. However, I can’t vouch what will happen to you, especially if you go anywhere near the other barons. They aren’t as . . . ” he scratched the back of his neck and looked the other way, “. . . as chivalrous as I am with certain matters concerning women . . . and their groins.”

  “Oh!” She grabbed the gown from his hands so quickly she almost ripped it, and heard Lord Nicholas holding back a chuckle.

  “You will have to get used to many different things now that you will be working for me and living in my manor. You might not like them nor be acquainted with them, but I assure you, you will get used to eating the best food and living amongst knights and nobles, and tending to my needs.”

  She considered telling him to keep the ring, but just couldn’t. It was all she had left of her family’s things, and she wouldn’t give that up too. But on the other hand, she could not lower herself to the status of a servant.

  “I never agreed to work for you, so please stop speaking as if I have!” She grabbed the gown, shivering to feel the coarse cloth beneath her fingers. “Oh, this is rough and scratchy,” she complained. “How can anyone wear such inadequate clothing?”

  “Some people can’t spin wool and make their own clothes like you.” He wandered over and picked up her travel bag from atop the bed. “If you don’t want to use the ring in payment, then mayhap you have something else in here to use to pay off your debt.” He dumped the contents of her pack out atop the sleeping pallet and she felt almost as violated as she did when he’d pulled her ring right off her finger in the first place.

  He sorted through her things, flipping them to the side, obviously not interested in anything she owned. Then he stopped and picked up the spindle of wool.

  “Is this what you use to spin?” he asked.

  “It is,” she said with a stiff upper lip. How daft was he that he had to ask? Then again, he was of noble blood and she was sure he had no idea how his clothes were even made.

  “Bring this with you to the great hall as soon as you’re dressed.”

  “Whatever for?” she asked, knowing the servants were preparing the main meal below stairs. “I thought I would be eating, not working.”

  “Oh, you will.” He threw the spindle of yarn down on the bed and headed toward the door. “But we’ll need entertainment after the meal. I think that should amuse the other barons and myself just fine.”

  “Entertainment? It is a spindle used for working, my lord, not a trick used by the jester for your personal follies. I don’t even have any wool to spin.”

  “Then I’ll make certain Baron Hastings orders some wool to be delivered to the great hall anon.” He opened the door and turned and looked back over his shoulder. “And mark my words, I assure you ’twill be more than amusing.”

  He quit the room, and in anger Muriel picked up a ceramic goblet sitting on the table and hurled it at the door. It smashed against the wood and broke into a million pieces. The door opened again, and the baron stuck his head inside. He eyed the broken goblet, and shook his head.

  “I’ll pay Baron Hastings for that, and add the price of it onto your debt,” he told her. “And if I were you, I’d control that temper. Because if you keep this up, the ring won’t even be enough to cover your debts.”

  *

  Nicholas sat near the fire drinking ale with the other barons after the meal, while some of the trestle tables were being cleared away.

  John had been sure to put out a fine spread, letting Nicholas know that his castle kitchens were large enough to cook entire wild boars and enough food to feed three times the knights and occupants of Nicholas’s manor. He’d also pointed out that while Nicholas was his guest at the castle, he had his choice of several private chambers to use as his own, and any of his servants to warm his bed.

  Nicholas appreciated the gesture, but took it as a blow below the belt since when he’d hosted the other barons at his manor house, they’d had to share a chamber, and make do with the local whores on the docks if they wanted a fast release.

  His servants were few, and of those he had, he would never give them
freely to these two rogues. He appreciated the work his servants did and their loyalty as well, and he didn’t want to just hand them over to his friends to use for their personal needs.

  “What about the women?” asked Conlin, eying some of the ladies of the castle. The hall was filled with eye catching, beautiful women, dressed in fine clothes. They were obviously from wealthy families, or married to prosperous knights.

  “The ladies are all taken, but I have more than enough servants both of you can choose from,” John assured them.

  “Nay, but thank you just the same,” said Nicholas, eying Muriel across the room. He’d told her to sit with the other merchants from the village who had been invited to dine with Lord John today. He’d thought she would find comfort in that, but instead they seemed to snub her. Word traveled fast along the coast when someone was blacklisted from the guild. He knew she felt uncomfortable, and he also knew the longer they stayed here, the worse off she would be.

  “You have you eye on that spinster, don’t you?” asked Conlin, using the common name for women who spun wool.

  “I am just watching to make sure she doesn’t disappear again,” he told them, finding interest in his cup instead, not wanting to seem as if he were smitten with the girl. “She has a habit of doing that.”

  “She really is comely now that she’s cleaned up,” said John. “Too bad she’s wearing that drab, coarse gown.”

  “Aye,” he said, knowing her own gown was drying near the fire. “Squire,” he called, and Roger came running over. The boy was young, but very attentive to Nicholas’s needs. He was also eager to fight, though he’d yet to be to a real battle. Nicholas lost his last squire over a year ago on the battlefield. He chose this boy because he was the son of a wealthy earl, and he knew it would gain him favor in the eyes of the king.

  “Baron Romney, what can I do for you?” Roger asked with a bow.

  “Bring the spinster over to me anon.”

  “Aye, milord.” He did as instructed, and Muriel joined them, clutching her spindle in her hands.