“His anger will subside in a few minutes. It always does. I will be fine, now please just go home.”
Muriel hurried through the streets as the sun started to set. She was in a hurry to get home, and took Tanner’s Row, even though it was the bad part of town. Still, it was a quicker way to get to her house, and right now she really didn’t care about anything but getting home. She felt as if she were going to retch from the stench of the animal hides stretched and hanging in the front of the shops. But that wasn’t as bad as the smell of the solution the tanners used to make the hides soft, that they’d dumped into the streets.
Whores stood in the doorways with men in the shadows. She tried not to make eye contact or even look their way, but she recognized a man as he kissed a peasant woman, and turned to leave.
“Henry?” she said in surprise, seeing the baron’s servant. “What are you doing here?”
“Muriel.” The man looked around quickly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And neither should you!”
“Well, look what we got here. A clean one, fellas.” A drunkard stepped out of the tavern with two men right behind him.
“Leave her alone,” said Henry, putting his arm around her and heading her away.
Before she knew what happened, the drunkard tried to grab her, and Henry punched him, sending him sprawling in the muck-filled street. The other two men started laughing, and more men came out of the tavern to see what all the commotion was about.
“Come on, Muriel, you need to get home.” Henry rushed her off to safety, and finally they entered her shop. She lit a tallow candle by the door and the smell of the burning fat made her stomach roil. She handed Henry the candle, and stuck her head out the door and vomited into the street.
“Muriel, are you ill?” asked the servant, guiding her back inside, and helping her get settled on a lone stool in the middle of the room.
“I – I don’t think so. I’m just upset because Samuel hit me, and hit his wife and my friend, Cecily, as well.”
“Let me see that.” He tilted her chin upwards, looking at her face in the candlelight. “You are bruised, but seem to be fine. You are lucky he didn’t break your jaw or dislodge your teeth.”
“Henry, thank you so much,” she said, putting her hand on his. She felt the tears dripping down her cheeks. “But you mustn’t run away from the manor. Don’t you realize that while you are not a free man, you are still taken care of by the baron? And if he finds you, he will punish you – possibly sever a limb?”
“I am not running away from the baron – I am running to someone else.”
“Oh. You have a . . . a lady friend?” she asked, remembering seeing him kissing a peasant woman.
“I love her, Muriel, and would risk even losing a limb just to see her.”
“I understand,” she said, with a slight smile. “I, too, love someone. Only I think I made a mistake, and now I’ve lost him.”
“I must go now before the guards are alerted. I need to sneak back into the manor before they discover I am missing.”
“Please, can you tell Isaac I need to speak with him? I came to the manor gates twice now, but the guards turned me away each time. The baron has told them not to let me enter.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have deceived him, and I am not proud of it.”
“Then I guess we are both deceiving him, aren’t we?” The servant gave her an understanding nod of the head. “I will give Isaac your message, I promise.” Then he slipped out into the night, leaving her all alone.
Muriel never felt so tired in her life. She walked up the stairs to the pallet that used to be her brother’s and lay down upon it. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But she was unable to rest, because all she could see when she closed her eyes was the disappointment on Nicholas’s face the day she decided to deceive him by helping a friend instead.
Chapter Twenty
Nicholas watched his mother’s casket being lowered into the ground. She was gone now, and he’d never even told her he loved her. He wasn’t sure why this bothered him so much. Ever since he’d had the conversation with Muriel, he knew that showing emotion by saying you loved someone didn’t make a man weak. It made him stronger.
“Nicholas,” said his father, and he looked up to see the man handing him a shovel.
He took the shovel and walked over to the gravesite, scooping up some dirt and dumping it into the hole. He would never see or talk to his mother again. This made him think about Muriel and his feelings for her.
“I’ll take that,” said his brother, taking the shovel from his hands and doing the same as he’d done. He looked at his brother’s family standing and watching. Reynard had three sons and one daughter. More than enough heirs to claim his father’s castle once he passed on.
Nicholas wanted heirs of his own. Even if it was only to inherit his manor house. If he had Muriel as his wife, it wouldn’t matter where he lived. He missed her. He still wanted her, but on the trip here he’d had time to ponder her actions. If she was deceiving him, he should have nothing to do with her ever again.
She had everything she wanted living at the manor house with him, so he was perplexed as to why she’d deceive him to help a guild member. He had been taking care of not only her but also her brother. He knew she wasn’t vindictive by nature, so none of this made any sense. Perhaps he’d been too harsh with her and needed to give her another chance. But on the other hand, how many chances could he give her? She’d already proven to be deceitful when she decided to hide a runaway servant.
The service ended and the entourage headed back to the castle.
“Will you be staying long?” his father asked him.
“Nay,” he answered, knowing the trip back to New Romney would take him nearly a week on horseback. He was anxious to get home and talk to Muriel and try to sort things out. “I will be leaving at first light.”
“Why the rush?” asked his brother. “In a hurry to see your little spinster girl?”
“Her name is Muriel,” he told his brother. “And she is not my little spinster. She is so much more than that.”
*
Two more days passed. Muriel opened her eyes one morning to see her brother standing over her.
“Isaac,” she said with a smile and sat up on the pallet. “I’m so happy you came. You must have gotten Henry’s message.”
“I did,” said Isaac, sitting down next to her and holding her hand. “However, when Henry came to give me the message, Baron Hastings overheard him telling me he’d seen you in town. The baron put him in the dungeon until Lord Nicholas returns.”
“Nay!” She got to her feet. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. This is all my fault.”
“Muriel, calm down,” he told her, putting his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure Lord Nicholas will be fair with Henry.”
“If you consider cutting off a finger or toe, fair. Henry wasn’t trying to run away, he was running to a woman he loves.”
“Then you need to tell the baron that, Sister.”
“I will. Let’s go now and I’ll tell Baron Hastings before he does anything to punish Henry.”
“Lord Conlin has just arrived today to take Lord John’s place, as they have been taking turns watching over the baron’s manor. He will be there for at least another day or two, so you may have to talk to both of them I fear.”
“I don’t care. I will take on two barons if I have to.”
“Muriel? Henry said some man hit you.” He took a look at her face and ran a finger over her bruise. “Does it hurt?”
“I’ll be fine,” she told him. “A little bruise is nothing compared to what they’ll do to a runaway servant. We’ve got to get back to the manor house so I can clear things up for the poor man.”
*
A half hour later Muriel stood at the gates of the manor next to Isaac, arguing with the baron’s guard.
“Let me in,” she said. “I told you I have an impo
rtant message for the barons.”
“I’m sorry, but Baron Romney ordered us to keep you out until his return,” answered the guard.
“But it’s my fault a man is in the dungeon. I have to save his life.”
“Let her in,” ordered Lord Conlin, the baron of Sandwich, as he walked up to the gate, obviously alerted by the commotion. The guards did as ordered.
“Muriel, walk with me. Isaac, you can go now,” said the baron.
“Aye, my lord,” said Isaac. He nodded and ran off through the courtyard.
“So, what is it that is so important that you show up at the gates after Baron Romney has told you to stay in town?”
“Aye, I’d like to know as well,” said Lord John, baron of Hastings, as he walked down the steps of the great hall to meet them.
“It’s about Henry, the kitchen servant,” she told them.
“Ah, yes. I caught him trying to run away again. I put him in the dungeon until Lord Nicholas returns,” stated Lord John.
“You have?” asked Lord Conlin, obviously just hearing the news.
“I did.” Lord John nodded. “However, I did not take any other action since I’m sure Lord Nicholas will want to punish him appropriately.”
“Nay, please!” She desperately grabbed onto John’s arm. He looked up and raised a brow at her action, and she removed her hand quickly. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“What is your interest with this kitchen servant?” asked Conlin. “And how did you get that bruise on your face?”
Her hand flew to her face to cover the bruise. She shouldn’t have been so careless as to let them see it. Now they were going to start asking questions. Questions that she couldn’t answer without pointing a finger at Cecily’s family.
“Henry doesn’t want to run away – he’s just running to a woman he loves.”
“In town?” asked Lord Conlin.
“Aye,” she answered. “Please don’t be too harsh with him.”
“That’ll be up to Lord Nicholas,” said Lord John. “You can make your plea to him.”
“But I’m not sure he’ll listen. He’s . . . angry with me.”
“And should he have a reason to be angry with you?” John folded his arms over his chest.
“I . . . I don’t know.” She suddenly felt like she was going to vomit again. She looked to the ground and put her hand on her stomach, knowing it was time for her to leave. Because if she stayed here much longer, Lord Nicholas’s friends would have her confessing all her secrets. And there was one secret she didn’t want them to know right now, because she wasn’t sure she wanted Lord Nicholas to know . . . that she was pregnant.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You are very quiet, my lord, is something troubling you?” asked Roger as they rode their horses back to New Romney after the funeral.
“You ask too many questions, squire,” mumbled Nicholas, looking down and rubbing his thumb over his little finger that still donned Muriel’s ring. He’d been thinking of her the entire trip. She’d been right when she told him life was short and he shouldn’t wait to tell the people who meant a lot to him that he loved them.
“You’re thinking of the spinster again, aren’t you?”
Nicholas’s head jerked upward, away from the ring. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”
“Because you keep playing with that ring of hers on your finger. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you really love that ring.”
Love. There was that word again, and it stabbed him in the heart just like a dagger. Did he love Muriel? Could he love her? He was a noble and she was only a spinster and the daughter of a merchant. She was a deceitful spinster – he had to keep reminding himself.
Mayhap he did love her, but now did it really even matter? He couldn’t love someone who was deceiving him as well as the king.
“Are you going to tell her?”
His head snapped around and his eyes focused on his squire. Did the boy have the ability to read minds? “Tell her what?”
“That you are fond of her?”
“I am not telling the spinster anything. After all, I’m fond of my horse too, yet I don’t feel the need to tell the bloody animal.” He rubbed his hand over the horses withers when he said it.
“Muriel isn’t a horse, my lord. And by the way she looks at you, I’d say she is in love. Plus, we all heard how much you really like each other that day in the Ladies’ Solar. Some of us even witnessed it – not by our own doing of course.”
“It is no different than me bedding a serving wench. Why are you putting such importance on just one common girl?”
“Because she isn’t common, my lord. She is special. She is talented and smart and witty, and beautiful of course. Don’t you agree?”
“You are here to be my squire, not the village matchmaker. Now pick up the pace or we’re never going to get back to New Romney.”
Nicholas dug his heels into the sides of his horse and shot off down the road leaving his squire in the dust. Yes, the boy was right. Muriel was talented and smart and pretty and everything but common. So why was it so hard for him to admit it aloud, and how was he ever going to tell the girl these things? But then again, why should he? She deceived him and was helping a corrupt merchant cheat him and the king out of taxes due, or so it seemed. For all he knew, she could have been playing him for a fool all along. Nay, he wouldn’t tell her anything about her beauty or his feelings for her – not yet. First he needed to find out exactly what Muriel Draper was hiding from him.
*
A few days later, Muriel hid behind a tree near the wharf, watching Oliver and Samuel collect their goods from the day’s trade. The Collector of Customs took money from the men, and stuck it in his pouch – not the box he used for collecting the taxes. Then he picked up his quill, but she never saw him ink it before he scribbled – or pretended to scribble something on their parchments.
She stepped out from her hiding place and stretched her neck to try to see them better. She saw the Collector fold the parchments and stamp them, and then hand them over to the Controller of Customs who did the same. The Surveyor of Customs seemed busy talking to some of the other traders, but when they held up the parchments and called his name, he looked up and nodded.
“Muriel, what are you doing?”
Muriel jumped, her heart racing, as she turned to see Cecily standing there.
“Cecily, I didn’t know you were there.” The girl held a bag of wool in her hands.
“Obviously not.” Her eyes followed Muriel’s over to where her father and the head guild member were collecting their things and heading in their direction. “You were spying on my stepfather!”
“Oh, Cecily, I’m sorry. But you must realize your stepfather is not being honest. He and Oliver are getting their ledger parchments stamped, but the parchments are blank, I’m sure of it. I suspect they are paying off the Collector and Controller of Customs, and then filling in the blank parchment with whatever they want – and not nearly what they should be taxed on either.”
“I thought you were my friend. How can you stand there and accuse my own stepfather of such nonsense?”
“It’s true, Cecily. Take a look at the parchment when he gets home. You’ll see it’s blank. He probably fills it in at home, then returns and tells the Collector what he wrote down, and they do the same in their ledgers. That way, the ledgers look somewhat correct. And if no one goes back and matches the imported and exported goods to the receipts, they get away with it and no one is the wiser.”
“Cecily, what are you doing talking to that girl?” growled Samuel as he and Oliver approached them.
“Muriel seems to think you are cheating the king out of the taxes you owe, stepfather.”
Muriel could have died when her good friend announced that. She’d told her in confidence, but now she’d been caught. She didn’t like the blazing fire in Samuel’s eyes, nor did she like the scowl on Oliver’s face either.
“She’s a liar and you
shouldn’t be listening to her,” said Samuel. “Now come away from her, before she accuses you of trying to cheat the baron and the crown as well.” Her stepfather grabbed her arm and yanked her hard, and Cecily almost dropped the bag of wool.
“Leave her alone!” Muriel cried out, but the man just headed away quickly, and called back over his shoulder. “You won’t get away with this, I promise.”
There was a menacing tone to his voice, and she rubbed the bruise on her cheek, just thinking of the last time she’d angered the man. She felt suddenly insecure, and very vulnerable. She wasn’t inside the thick fortress walls of the baron’s manor, nor in the baron’s protecting arms. She didn’t even have Isaac with her.
She was a girl alone and pregnant, and feeling very scared for the first time in her life. Not just frightened for herself, but frightened for her unborn baby. She put her hands on her stomach, feeling ill again. She didn’t know what to do. She had no money, nor would anyone buy what little wares she had, since the guild had seen to that.
She looked up to the marshland she rented from the baron, and saw the sheep grazing, and Brother Germain there talking with one of the shepherds. She felt like she needed a friend right now, so she made her way there to talk with him. She picked up her skirts and trudged over to the sodden grounds of the marshlands. While she planned on approaching the monk for coin, she also wanted to talk to him and possibly confess everything on her mind. He was the baron’s half-brother. Mayhap he could also put in a good word for her when the baron returned, because seeing him again was something she wasn’t sure she was looking forward to at all.
She approached the marshlands, and made her way across the boggy field, happy to see Brother Germain smiling at her. She hadn’t seen anyone smile much in the entire time she’d been staying at the baron’s manor.
“Muriel, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He left the shepherds and headed across the grass. He held out his hands and embraced her hands in a greeting.
“Brother Germain, I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and also for the food and ale,” she said.
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