Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “My lord, the girl is here too, shall I bring her forward?” interrupted the bailiff, and things went from bad to worse.

  He couldn’t very well ignore the issue, especially with his brother and father watching.

  “Aye, bring her forward,” he said with a nod. A guard headed over and took her by the arm, and dragged her up to the front of the room next to Henry.

  “Nay, leave me alone,” she told the guard, trying to get out of his grip.

  “Silence!” Nicholas bellowed, causing her to look up in surprise. “Muriel Draper, did you hide this servant who ran away from my manor?”

  Muriel looked at Lord Nicholas in disbelief. Was he really going to punish her after the wonderful night they’d spent together? She wasn’t sure what to say. Then she looked at Henry. He seemed so sad and frightened, and she couldn’t let him go through this all alone.

  “Aye, I did,” she answered bravely, and listened to the sound of the soft murmurs of surprise in the room behind her. It seemed everyone from the manor was here for the baron’s court. The nobles were at the front of the room, and the peasants, serfs, and servants filled up the rest of the space. And right next to him sat the two men she’d seen last night that she now knew were his brother and father.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked her next, surprising her even more.

  “Why?” she repeated. “Because no man should be a servant to another if he doesn’t want to be.”

  “Muriel, it’s all right,” said Henry, looking up to her apologetically. “I am sorry I involved you.” He looked back up to Lord Nicholas. “She had nothing to do with it, my lord. I hid in her house and she didn’t know I was there until you arrived.”

  “But she didn’t reveal your whereabouts,” said Nicholas in a low voice. “Instead, she purposely withheld information from me. By right, she should suffer the same punishment as you for harboring you to begin with.”

  “But – I’m from town, not your manor nor the port,” Muriel pointed out. “Shouldn’t the town council decide my fate?”

  “My, how you’ve changed your tune, my little songbird,” said Nicholas, not seeming at all amused. She knew he was speaking of the fact she’d previously begged him not to send her back to town and to the guilds to be tried. “Since you have interfered with my property – that is, my servant – I will be the one who decides your fate in this matter.”

  “Yes, my lord.” She wet her lips and clasped her hands, not certain what horrible punishment he’d come up with. She knew oftentimes prisoner’s limbs were cut off, or they’d incur beatings or whippings. She hoped he wouldn’t give her a sentence like that.

  “Henry, your sentence will be . . . ten lashes this time.” A gasp went up from the crowd. “And if you try it again, next time you will lose a finger or a toe, so don’t even think of running off to hide away in town again, I warn you.”

  “Aye, milord, thank you, milord,” said Henry with a bow.

  “Ten lashings? With a whip?” Muriel’s eyes flew over to Nicholas. Could he really be that horrible that he’d subject her to this kind of punishment as well?

  “That’s a light punishment,” said Nicholas. “He’s lucky I didn’t decide to do worse.”

  “And what’s my punishment, my lord?” she asked, her heart beating like wild.

  “Whoever hides a runaway servant suffers the same punishment as them,” he reminded her.

  She heard her brother and Cecily cry out from behind her, and though she felt as if she were going to swoon, she kept strong and just raised her chin.

  “Aye, my lord,” she answered instead.

  “However . . .” he raised a finger in the air and got up off his chair. “I don’t whip women, so instead you will pay a fine of ten shillings.”

  “Ten shillings?” He knew she had no money. He might as well have said ten marks. “I cannot pay the fine, my lord.”

  “Then whip her like the servant,” called out Nicholas’s brother.

  “Aye, give her the same punishment and she’ll learn not to deceive you again,” added his father.

  “Please, my lord. Let me do something to earn the money to pay you back,” she begged him, feeling anxious and scared by the comments from the crowd.

  Nicholas just nodded his head slowly. “Oh, you will, Spinster. And I only hope you can really spin as fast as you say, because now you will not only be making new clothes for me to wear at the upcoming banquet I am planning, but you will be making clothes for the rest of the nobles in my manor as well.”

  Muriel just stood and stared, calculating in her head how many knights and ladies she had seen in the manor since she’d been there. Then she thought how soon the banquet would take place. She had only a month to complete this task. It was impossible. If only she had the ten shillings to pay, she wouldn’t have to be under this pressure. Then she thought of Cecily. Maybe she could borrow the money from her to pay her debt.

  “My lord, I may be able to borrow the money from a friend.” His head jerked upward in surprise. It was obvious he hadn’t expected her to say this.

  “Nay. That is not allowed. You did the crime, and you alone will pay the price, without the help of others. Besides, you are my clothier and also trying to pay off your debt to me which seems to be adding up quickly.” He held up his hand to show her his little finger that still held her mother’s wedding ring to prove his point. “Now get your spindle, Clothier, because I don’t want to see you go anywhere without it again.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nicholas walked the docks with his father and brother at his side. Muriel followed behind him with a distaff – long wooden pole – of un-spun wool tucked under her arm, and her spindle in her hand. Her fingers worked quickly pulling and spinning the wool as she tried to keep up with Nicholas and his entourage.

  Nicholas kept an eye on her as they walked. He’d known he had to do something to punish Muriel, because he couldn’t let her go free without being reprimanded. Especially not with his brother and father watching over his shoulder, and all his men and the rest of the manner as well. It was his duty to carry out punishments to those who had done wrong. And she had not only done wrong, but she had deceived him. By right, her punishment should have been so much worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it after the wonderful night they’d spent together.

  So he did what he could to keep her busy. That is, too busy to think about helping runaway servants and too busy to cause him trouble again.

  The only reason he insisted she come with him to the docks was because he didn’t want her around the manor when his guard whipped Henry. She didn’t need to hear his screams, nor did he want Muriel to try to stop it. At least if she were always with him, there’d be no chance for her to cause trouble.

  “So, this is all your demesne?” asked Reynard, looking up and down at the ships docked in the harbor. New Romney was a main port, being fed by the River Rother, and also butting up to the sea. Nicholas’s personal fleet with nobles’ ships consisted of a dozen clinker-built cogs with square and lanteen sails. They ranged in size from being able to carry 50 – 100 tuns in the hold. There were smaller vessels used by local merchants from town and fishermen on the wharf, some as small as 20 tuns. But all of them were used to aid the king 15 days out of the year in transport or in warfare.

  At any one time he could count on having close to sixty ships ready for duty. Now, with the trade ships here from up and down the coast as well as tradesmen from Devon and London, not to mention Flanders, Italy and Spain, there was an easy three dozen more occupying his port.

  “Aye, are you surprised?” asked Nicholas.

  “We haven’t been down to the docks of New Romney for some time,” admitted his father. “And not at all since you’ve become a Baron of the Cinque Ports.”

  The winds were prominent today, but yet the day was sunny as well. The sea was a bright blue-green, smelling like fish as usual. The waves lapped against the sides of the ships in the harbor and also washed up ont
o the shore. The wharf stretched out between his lands on one side all the way down to St. Nicholas’s Church up on the cliffs at the other. There was a lighthouse tower built from stone that looked out over the harbor, guiding in the ships at night with the torches that burned brightly from within the tall structure.

  Dozens of piers fingered out from the main wharf, each giving berth to a fishing boat or merchant ship. The larger ships over fifty tuns were anchored at the second row of piers placed further out on the water. Some of the foreign ships were not flat bottomed cogs, but rather galleys or caravels, and actually had to anchor in deeper waters and have their goods shuttled in by smaller vessels, or they’d be banked at the change of the tides.

  Controlled chaos buzzed around like flies on dung as Nicholas strolled the docks with his father and brother. The wharf was crowded today, and there were more trade ships than usual, and he had to make certain everything ran as scheduled.

  “Thomas,” Nicholas called to his Tide Waiter.

  “Aye, Baron,” said the tall, older man with a slight bow as he approached them. Nicholas looked over his shoulder and saw Muriel making her way through the crowd behind him, spinning as she walked, keeping her eyes on her work as she came to join them.

  “Be sure to board each of the incoming ships and make sure they don’t unload on an isolated jetty out of sight. There is lots of commotion today and that means plenty of chances for smuggling to happen.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the man answered, fixing his cap on his head and glancing out to the docks with a nod.

  Nicholas waved down his Land Waiter next, and the man came running over.

  “My lord.” He bowed as well, standing next to Thomas. This man was younger and shorter than Thomas, and one of Nicholas’s hardest workers.

  “Ernest, keep a close eye on the ships from the foreign ports today. Take extra dockmen to help if you need them, but I don’t want any cargo loaded or unloaded before it’s recorded in the logs.”

  “Of course, my lord. As always,” answered the man.

  As they left, Nicholas motioned with his head to his Land Surveyor whose job was to keep an eye on both Thomas and Ernest. “Make sure the Tide Waiter stays with the vessels until they are totally unloaded,” he called out, and the man bowed and headed after them, disappearing into the crowd.

  “Son, I must say I’m impressed by your new position.” His father slapped him on the shoulder in acceptance. “Mayhap I’ve misjudged your abilities after all.”

  Nicholas didn’t respond, because he didn’t feel as if he truly needed the approval of his father, though it was nice to hear. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find the ship from France, as I want to choose some of their fine cloth to buy before they bring it to town to trade. Muriel, follow me please.”

  “Why is the merchant girl even here?” complained Reynard. “You should have left her at the manor. Women have no purpose on the docks and will only get in every man’s way.”

  “Muriel is my Personal Clothier, and I need her to help me choose fabrics,” Nicholas told him. “So if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”

  Muriel’s fingers stilled when she heard Nicholas say she was going to be able to choose some of the fine cloth he’d be buying today. Her heart beat rapidly, as she’d always wished she could have accompanied her father on his trades, but the guild hadn’t allowed it since she was a woman and only a spinster.

  “Spinster, let’s go,” bellowed Nicholas as he headed through the crowd and down a pier that led to a few dozen other piers all of which were used for the foreign ships. Muriel’s head spun as fast as the spindle in her hand as she followed Nicholas down the piers, taking in the wonderful sight of trade ships being unloaded, and barrels of wool and wine, grain and metal works, being wheeled and carted down boarding planks, being brought to shore.

  “Romney, over here!” came a shout from the crowded docks. She looked up to see Lord John from Hastings walking down the pier toward them.

  “Hastings, I’m surprised to see you here,” said Nicholas greeting his good friend with a back slap and clasp of hands as well.

  “Not as surprised as I am to see your merchant girl still with you.”

  “Hello, Baron Hastings,” she said, stilling her fingers for a second to hold out her skirt and curtsey as was proper.

  “Don’t you go anywhere without that spindle?” he asked with an amused chuckle.

  “Lord Nicholas insists I keep working every minute of the day, as I’m now to make clothes for his entire manor.”

  “Just the nobles,” he reminded her.

  “Did you call him Lord Nicholas?” Lord John looked to Nicholas and raised a brow.

  “You know I tell everyone in my manor to call me that,” Nicholas said in his defense.

  “Aye, but I had no idea the townsfolk were addressing you like that as well now.”

  “I’m living at the manor and working for Lord Nicholas now,” she added.

  “I see.” John just nodded. “I’ll bet you are.”

  “Hastings, what are you after?” growled Nicholas in an impatient tone.

  “Nothing at all. I’ve got fifty tuns of fine wine in the hold of my ship and I’ve got plenty of thirsty foreigners ready to take it off my hands.”

  “Ah, here’s the ship I was looking for.” Nicholas stopped in front of an old cog with clinker built sides, flying the French flags. “Muriel, come with me. Hastings, I will see you later.”

  “Good luck with the spinster,” said John with a nod as he headed away.

  “What did he mean?” Muriel continued to spin, and when her drop spindle neared the ground, she stopped and wound the wool around the spindle until the slack was taken up, and then she started spinning again.

  “He meant naught. Now stay close to me, as some of these seafarers are not used to being around pretty women.”

  His words elated her that he thought she was pretty, and she swore she felt her cheeks becoming flushed. She followed him up the boarding plank of a foreign ship, continuing to focus on her work, not paying much attention until she heard a gravelly voice call out.

  “Why is there a wench aboard my ship?”

  She looked up in surprise to see the foreign trader who reminded her a lot of the one she’d originally been trying to sell her wares to. That is, the man who’d tried to steal her spindle. And this man had called her a wench. She already didn’t like nor trust him.

  “She’s with me, and don’t call her a wench. She is my Personal Clothier,” Nicholas told him.

  “Baron, I didn’t realize it was you. So sorry,” said the man with a slight bow.

  “Let me see your silk and fine linens,” said Nicholas. “And if you have lace and colored cord, I’d like to see that too.”

  “Right this way,” said the man, leading them over to the aft of the ship.

  “Has the Land Waiter already taken a tally and have you paid the Collector of Customs your taxes due to the king?”

  “I have the receipt right here, and everything’s been recorded,” he said, pulling a piece of parchment out of his pouch.

  Muriel looked up to see the parchment folded and stamped atop in ink with two halves of the seal of the port, making up a full circle on the outside of the document. It was not a waxed seal used by nobility and stamped with their signet rings, but it was a legal document just the same.

  Nicholas opened it, and surveyed the tallies. Then he went over to the barrels and trunks that had been untied and were ready to unload from the ship. “Open them,” he instructed, and the merchant did so. Nicholas took a fast survey, then folded the parchment and gave it back to the man.

  “Does everything meet your inspection, my lord?” asked the man.

  “Aye,” he said with a nod. “I randomly check ships, as I can’t take the chance of someone smuggling.”

  “Of course not,” he said, and smiled his brown-toothed grin reminding Muriel of the trader she’d had her confrontation with, once again. It made her
want to retch.

  “Muriel, pick out any fabric you want to use to make clothes for the nobles.”

  “Really?” she asked, slipping her spindle into her pouch and tossing in the distaff as well in order to free up her hands to survey the cloth. Distaffs came in all sizes, and though some of them were as tall as her, the one she used today was only the length of her arm.

  She picked up a bolt of burgundy silk and ran her hand across it. Then she continued to do the same to russet, scarlet, and amber silk as well. It was of the finest quality that she’d ever seen, and she knew it would be very expensive. “I thought you wanted me to make the cloth for the clothes, my lord,” she said, turning back to look at Nicholas.

  “And you will. But I’m used to clothes made from the finest silk and the softest linen, and would like a few items from materials that even you are not skilled enough to construct.”

  “Aye, my goods are the best,” said the merchant. “I traded for them from a merchant from the far east.”

  Muriel knew the silk was spun from the cocoons of silk worms, and it took thousands of their pods to make one simple gown. She also knew the nobility was used to lots of lace and fancy baubles. And while she was proficient at several things, this was not her strongest skill. She eagerly looked through the wares the man had to offer, feeling her heart race as she spied taffeta, velvet, and intricate lace as well as linens dyed colors she’d never even seen before.

  “This silk and lace is all very pretty,” she said, holding up a small bolt of each. “But it looks very expensive.”

  “How much for the entire lot?” asked Nicholas.

  “Entire lot?” gasped Muriel. “Oh, no, we really don’t need that much. I could clothe your entire manor with a little over half of all these goods.”

  “Do you have anything to trade?” asked the man.

  “Nay. Today I’m going to be buying it,” the baron told him. “Muriel, have you decided then?”

  “I have.” She pointed out the items she wanted, and at Nicholas’s coaxing, she added even more. “There. That should be good,” she said with a nod.