The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4)

by Irina Shapiro

  The Earl of Stanwyck listened to Guy’s account over supper and smiled indulgently at the young man, gesturing for the serving girl to pour them more wine.

  “Guy, you’re welcome to remain at Stanwyck Hall for as long as you wish. Lord knows we have plenty of room. I’ll send one of my men to fetch your armor, weapons, and personal possessions come morning and assign you a squire to look after your needs, but as your lord, I must offer a piece of advice, one you’re not going to like. Your brother William was a good and decent man. He inspired obedience and respect, but Hugh must govern by fear. He’s not the type of man to breed loyalty. Gelding the man would have been cruel, I agree with you there, but Hugh did right to punish him. Whether the girl was willing or not, she wasn’t his for the taking. His actions led to her death, whether that was his intention or not.”

  The earl held up his hand to silence Guy when he was about to protest.

  “Now, I know what you’re going to say. If every man who lay with a woman that’s not his wife were flogged, there’d be no one left with an unstriped back, and you’re right, but different rules apply to different ranks of society, and as a serf, this Walsh is your property, not your contemporary. Had Hugh not punished him, he’d appear weak and ineffectual, much like our deposed sovereign. And you see what befell him when he failed to strike to defend his position. Guy, I admire your sense of decency. You remind me of William, but if you hope to survive, you must steel your heart to the pain of others. The girl is gone, the culprit punished, and your conscience clear of any wrongdoing.”

  “Is my conscience clear?” Guy asked.

  “Guy, what ails you is not the flogging you had to administer—deep down you know it was just—but your brother’s treatment of you. It rankles, I understand. I too had an older brother once. Hugh’s not known for his tact or his kindness, and his temporary position as lord of the manor burns his gut more with every passing day. Having you there, judging him, only makes that flame stronger. What you need is a bit of distance, and not just from your brother.”

  “What do you mean, my lord?”

  The earl raised one shaggy eyebrow, staring at Guy until his cheeks warmed. “I’m not blind, Guy, and neither is Hugh. You’re hopelessly in love with his wife, and you need to conquer those feelings. She’s not yours for the taking any more than a serving wench was Walsh’s to enjoy. Now, tonight, I will send a girl to your room. She’s comely and sweet, and you will make use of her as a man should. That’s an order, not a request, since you’re still in my service. If you refuse, you will insult my hospitality.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Guy muttered and gulped down the remainder of his wine.

  “Now, off to bed with you. You might not be tired, but I’m an old man and I need to rest my bones. They seem to creak louder with every passing winter,” the earl complained as he rose laboriously to his feet.

  “You’re still in fighting form, my lord.”

  “Aye, as long as my squire dresses me, lifts me onto my horse, and hands me my sword. I’m getting too old for this, Guy. I think I’ll sit the next one out, and the one after that. My son can represent the Stanwycks in battle. It’s only right that he should. None of us are immortal, are we?” The earl patted Guy on the back and smiled at him, as if Guy were his own son. “I envy you, my boy. Your whole life is still ahead of you. Don’t waste it pining for things you can’t have.”

  “Yes, my lord. Sleep well.”

  The ear winked at Guy as he turned to leave the hall. “And I hope you don’t sleep at all,” he replied with a lewd smile, leaving Guy in no doubt of what he meant.

  Guy retreated to his chamber and sat down by the hearth. He’d consumed a lot of wine during supper, but not enough to dull his senses or calm the turmoil he’d felt since that morning when he found Kate crying, her cheek bruised. The earl had been right in everything he’d said. Guy resented Hugh, and despised him for his ill treatment of Kate. But no matter how bright his anger burned, Kate belonged to Hugh, and Guy had no right to chastise his brother for his treatment of his wife. If Hugh chose to take a whip to Kate or ride her until she bled every night, Guy had no right to intervene. The kindest thing he could do was leave. Perhaps his absence would mellow Hugh’s temper.

  Guy had every intention of sending the girl away after extracting a promise that she’d tell the earl that Guy had availed himself of her body, but when she knocked on his door and entered the room, quietly standing before him, he changed his mind. She was indeed comely, with large blue eyes and long, lustrous red hair. The earl had chosen well, selecting a lass that resembled Kate, in coloring if not in feature. Guy gazed upon the girl and suddenly all the frustration and loneliness of the past several years came crashing down on him, overwhelming him with desperation. It’d been years since he’d enjoyed the touch of a woman, but tonight he would give in to his need. He was a man, and he had a man’s desires, and if they couldn’t be satisfied with the woman he worshipped, they’d be satisfied by one who was willing.

  Guy held out his hand and the girl came to him, smiling and eager. “How do you like it, my lord?” she asked, cupping his cheek tenderly.

  “How do you like it?” Guy asked, smiling back. He might have no feelings for her, but he’d not treat her unkindly.

  The girl slid her hand downward and into his breeches, wrapping her slender fingers about his shaft and moving her hand skillfully. “I like it long and hard, my lord,” she purred.

  “What’s your name?” Guy asked as a bolt of desire shot through him, leaving him breathless with lust.

  “Rose,” the girl whispered and sank to her knees in front of him, her rosy mouth opening to receive him.

  “Rose.” Her name turned into a moan on his lips. It didn’t take her long to accomplish what she’d set out to do, but she remained on her knees in front of him, looking up at him with the eagerness of one who was just getting started.

  “Come here,” Guy bid her and pulled on the laces of her bodice.

  “Aye, my lord,” the girl replied with a coy smile. “I think I will.”

  Guy spent nearly a month at Stanwyck Hall, enjoying the hospitality of his lord and the welcoming embrace of Rose, who came to his chamber nearly every night. He lost himself in her body, but his heart remained untouched. At times, he closed his eyes and imagined Kate lying beneath him, moaning with pleasure and begging him for more. Rose didn’t mind. She understood that Guy’s heart would never belong to her, and had no expectations of him. She was a serf, the earl’s property, and his to give where he saw fit. Once Guy was gone, Rose would return to her normal duties, which might include anything from scrubbing pots to servicing the earl or his son. Guy never asked what she had done before he came, and they never spoke of what she’d do after he left. He simply accepted the earl’s gift and tried to make Rose’s time with him as pleasant for her as he could. He made only one request of her, that she protect herself against pregnancy. Many a man wouldn’t care if he got a bastard on the girl. Her child would simply be one more serf for his lord, but Guy couldn’t bear to leave a child of his behind. Rose inserted a vinegar-soaked rag into her quim before coming to him, to prevent his seed from taking hold. She wrinkled her nose prettily at the smell, but Guy didn’t mind it. It was a small price to pay for his peace of mind.

  At the beginning of February, just after Candlemas, the earl summoned Guy. He was sitting by the hearth, his feet propped on a tapestry-covered stool, a goblet of wine in his hand. The earl’s son, Robert Ambrose, sat across from his father, enjoying a cup of wine.

  “Guy, my boy,” the earl greeted him. “Have a cup of wine.”

  Guy pulled up a chair and accepted the wine from the serving wench hovering nearby. It was too hot by the fire, but Guy didn’t move, not wishing to offend his lord.

  “I’ve written to Dick, and had a reply just this morning.”

  “Dick?”

  “Richard Neville,” the earl replied, chuckling. “He’s the Earl of Warwick to you, but Dick to me. I’
ve known him since he was old enough to ride his pony. I’ve asked him to take you into his service for a period of one year. Should you wish to remain longer, you only have to ask. You’re to report to him at Middleham Castle. Robert will be travelling that way in two days’ time. You may travel with him.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Guy replied, genuinely grateful for the earl’s understanding. He didn’t have to release Guy, but the older man had a soft spot for him, having been great friends with his father.

  “You may take your squire with you. You’ll need him, and it wouldn’t do to arrive at Middleham looking like a poor relation. You’re my knight, and you will make me proud. Hmm?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I’ll miss having you about, my boy. And I know a redheaded lass who’ll pine for you once you’re gone.” The earl chuckled, but his son’s mouth tightened with displeasure.

  Guy paid him no mind. “I thank you for your generosity, my lord.”

  “Think nothing of it. There are plenty more where she came from. A man needs comely females about the place, doesn’t he, Robert?”

  Robert didn’t reply.

  “Robert was sick in love with Rose when he was a lad of thirteen,” the earl explained. “She was all of ten then, working in the kitchens. I promised him that he could have her as soon as she became a woman. He had to wait three years, but once she came to his bed, he held on to her for five years. Wouldn’t let anyone near her. I think he still loves her,” the earl teased.

  “I have a wife now,” Robert retorted. He avoided his father’s playful gaze and stared into the flames.

  “When did having a wife ever stop anyone from enjoying a satisfying tumble? I have a wife too.” The earl laughed good-naturedly. “My wife is only too grateful to let some poor wench service my needs, especially now that she’s too old to bear sons. I hope Rose was to your satisfaction,” he said, watching Guy intently.

  “She was most pleasing, my lord.”

  “Good. You do look a bit happier, not like a dog that’s been kicked by its master, as you did when you first arrived.”

  Guy cringed inwardly at the comparison, but didn’t say anything. He was excited to be leaving Stanwyck Hall at last, and putting some distance between himself and Hugh—or more accurately, between himself and Kate.

  Chapter 47

  July 1463

  Norham Castle, Northumberland

  A few months after presenting himself at Middleham Castle, Guy found himself back in Northumberland, just a few miles from home. Norham Castle, one of the border strongholds of the Yorkists since 1462, had been besieged by the Lancastrian army under the leadership of Ralph Percy. With support from the regent queen of Scotland, Mary of Gueldres, and troops newly arrived from France, Margaret of Anjou had been on the move, ready to lay claim to the north. The siege had been in its eighteenth day by the time the Earl of Warwick and his brother, Lord Montagu, arrived with reinforcements. The fighting had been fierce, and this time, no quarter was given, as it had been after the sieges of 1462 when the leaders were pardoned by His Majesty and allowed to keep their lands and titles. The Lancastrians had been defeated, and justice was swift.

  Guy stood at the back of the crowd assembled in the bailey, waiting for the prisoners to be brought forth. A platform had been erected, elevated high enough so everyone could see clearly. They were meant to see, and to reflect on the fate of those who had chosen the wrong side. Today, they would pay for their deeds, and their loyalty to a sovereign they’d sworn their allegiance to long before Edward IV took the throne. Guy still bristled when he thought of his final encounter with Hugh, but he had to give his brother credit. Hugh had been right to trust his instincts and change sides after the Battle of Towton. Had they not, it could have easily been one of them up on that platform, or both, with Adam dispossessed and stripped of his title by association. The king was weary of fighting, and Warwick was growing tired of putting down uprisings in the north, a simmering cauldron of dissent always ready to boil over in rebellion.

  A hush fell over the crowd as Warwick’s men brought out the leaders of the rebellion. They were dressed in breeches and shirts, their feet bare, and their faces gray in the golden sunshine warming their shoulders for the last time. They were no longer wealthy, powerful men, but defeated soldiers, frightened but defiant to the last.

  Guy hadn’t witnessed many executions, but he was keenly aware of the difference between the executions of felons and soldiers. When a felon was executed, the crowd jeered and often threw rotting fruits and vegetables at the condemned. They viewed the execution as a spectacle, something to break the monotony of their lives and discuss for several days afterward, especially if the death proved to be a particularly gruesome one. When the executions of soldiers were witnessed by other soldiers, the atmosphere was solemn. The men stood around silently, wary and watchful. They understood all too well that these were men of honor who had fought for their king and risked their lives for their beliefs despite the danger to themselves and their loved ones. All too easily, the positions could be reversed, and any man in the crowd could be facing the axman, his death watched over by his sworn enemies and regarded as a casualty of war. Many of these men, particularly those of high rank, would not receive a Christian burial, at least not right away. Their heads would be mounted on spikes as a lesson to those who chose to take up arms and challenge the unstoppable force that was Warwick’s army.

  Guy stood shoulder to shoulder with several other knights, their eyes fixed on the platform. He winced as the thwack of an ax was followed by a thud as the first head hit the basket set beneath the condemned. The executioner held up the head for all to see, the lower half of his masked face the only part visible, set in grim lines.

  No one enjoyed this, least of all the victorious Warwick, who’d been denied the opportunity to bury his own father and brother after their executions several years back. Warwick had traveled the length and breadth of the country, putting down rebellions, relieving sieges, forging alliances, and seeking truces. He rarely saw his countess or his daughters, who were nearly of marriageable age, something Warwick must have been keenly aware of as he toiled tirelessly on behalf of the king.

  Guy had heard the talk at Middleham Castle while he was there. Warwick meant to marry his daughters to the highest ranking nobles in the land, the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloucester, brothers to the king. Should Edward die without leaving a son, one of Warwick’s daughters would become the Queen of England, most likely Isabel since it was rumored that she was meant for George, Edward’s middle brother. Warwick fought like a lion, because in the end, he’d be the power behind the throne regardless of whether Edward had a son.

  Guy waited until the executions were over, then joined a few other men for a game of hazard in the great hall. The wine flowed freely, provided by Warwick himself to help the men forget what they’d just witnessed. Except for the squires, they were all seasoned soldiers and had seen death in all its forms, but one didn’t easily forget half a dozen beheadings. Guy accepted more wine from a serving wench and tossed it back as if it were water. A part of him wished he could visit Castle de Rosel and see the family before heading north tomorrow. Warwick meant to pursue the fleeing Scottish army to teach them a lesson, and the Yorkist forces would set off first thing in the morning, marching for southern Scotland.

  Guy set down his cup and stepped out into the corridor. The earl would give him permission to leave for a few hours if he asked it, but he wasn’t at all sure he wished to go. He knew he had to make peace with Hugh. They were brothers, and the rift between them had not been caused by anything more serious than wounded pride. Hugh would welcome Guy back, as Kate had said in her letters.

  It was Kate that Guy was afraid to see. Rose had been the first in a string of casual dalliances, but Kate’s face was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep at night, and her name the first word that came to his lips when he woke. He missed her sweet smile and her serious eyes, and he envied
his brother bitterly. Hugh didn’t appreciate the rare woman he had. Had Guy been the one to marry Kate, he wouldn’t care if she gave him sons—although imagining his babe at her breast made him sick with longing. He would value her and love her for all his days, and be happy to remain at home, just to be close to her.

  Guy sighed and returned to the hall, having changed his mind about seeking out Warwick. He had no wish to go home, not until he was ready. Hugh, damn his eyes, was right. It was time he thought of marrying. He needed to assure his own future and stop mooning over his brother’s wife, who’d be forever out of his reach. Guy staggered away from the gaming table and found a quiet place to bed down. He needed sleep, but when he closed his eyes, all his saw was Kate’s beautiful face and a basketful of severed heads.

  Chapter 48

  September 1464

  Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland

  Kate stepped outside and turned her face up to the sun. It wasn’t becoming for a woman to have a sun-tinted face, but she allowed herself a few moments on sunny days, just to enjoy the warmth on her skin. She tried to take a walk every day after breakfast, even on stormy days, desperate to get away from the keep, and from Hugh. She no longer walked toward the castle, and hadn’t done so in years since the castle warden held it in the name of Lancaster and she suffered harassment when encountering the inhabitants. The north was still largely Lancastrian, except for pockets of Yorkist support, so Kate had to be mindful of where she went. Normally, she headed toward the woods, which were safe enough if one didn’t encounter any poachers. She only wished to be alone so she could drop the façade of contentment and allow her true emotions to surface.