“Of course.”
Although she didn’t add the dreaded title this time, Fawkes heard her saying it in her head. How was he to ever make her feel comfortable with him? Would she always remain so wary and distant? He wanted so much for her to trust him, and to feel that he could trust her. But every time they seemed to be growing close, something happened.
Fawkes scanned the hall for the tumblers and the mummers but didn’t see them. They’d probably gone back to their wagons to rest and relax. This might be a good time to question them.
He rose from the table and made his way through the crowded hall. Once in the bailey, he quickened his pace. As he passed through the gate, he nodded to the guard in the gate tower.
Outside the castle, the performers were gathered around their tents. They had food that appeared to have been specially cooked for them, roast fowl and berry tarts, along with cheese and bread. He approached the two female tumblers, who were seated on a blanket on the grass. They both got to their feet, their movements as effortless and graceful as their performance had been. They looked very young, barely into womanhood. Their fresh beauty reminded him of Alwen.
He nodded to them. “I enjoyed your performance. You’re very skilled and lovely to watch.”
“Thank you, milord,” answered the one who looked a bit older. They dipped their heads in deference.
“I understand you’ve performed at Valmar before.”
“Aye,” the older one answered. “We have been here the past two summers, close to St. John’s Day.”
“All of you? Including the jongleur?” Fawkes gestured in the direction of the castle.
The younger woman spoke: “Alan de Ronay joined us this spring. We’re fortunate to have him as part of our troupe. He’s performed for the royal household in London.”
“And where do you travel to from here?”
“We’re on our way to Shrewsbury, milord.”
He suddenly realized that young as they were, these women might not have any idea what de Ronay was up to. “I’ll let you get back to your meal.”
The two young women bowed to him and then resumed their seats. Fawkes headed to the castle. When he arrived, de Ronay had finished his performance and a number of women had gathered around him. There was no sign of Nicola, but Fawkes did see Reynard. He went over to him. “Did you see where Nicola went?”
“She said she was going to get the money to pay the performers.”
Fawkes nodded in distraction. Everything Nicola had said and done this day made sense. But he couldn’t get over the sense she was lying about something.
“What’s amiss now, Fawkes?” Reynard asked.
Fawkes didn’t answer. He should be relieved that Nicola wasn’t with de Ronay. Although the jongleur had plenty of attention. Observing the bevy of women surrounding him, Fawkes muttered a curse.
****
Down in the storage cellar, Nicola carefully blew on the piece of parchment, trying to dry the ink so she could roll up the missive and give it to de Ronay. She wished the jongleur could leave tonight. But it would seem odd if he left before the rest of the performers.
She shook the parchment again, then carefully rolled it up and secured it with a piece of yarn and slipped it in a basket. After covering the missive with dried-up apples from last season, she grabbed the candle and started up the stairs. Out in the bailey, she looked for Fawkes. Seeing no sign of him, she crossed the yard, hurried through the gate and down the trackway to the performers’ camp.
She sought out the two female tumblers. They were seated on a blanket with the Valmar knights Guy and Oliver. The squire Will sat on the grass nearby. The five appeared to be sharing a jack of wine.
She drew near, smiling. “It appears you are enjoying this fine evening.”
“Aye, milady.” Guy rose quickly to his feet, followed by the other two men.
She motioned to the young women, “I wonder if one of you could show me which wagon belongs to the jongleur.
“None of them do,” the younger of the women replied.
“Well, who does he travel with? Where does he keep his things?”
“He rides with Roald,” the woman answered. “Come, I’ll show you.”
The woman took Nicola to a large wagon. The cargo area contained several bags and chests. “Do you know which of these belong to Alan?”
“I think this chest is his.”
Nicola nodded, but she needed to be sure. She leaned over the wagon and opened the chest. Observing the elaborate men’s clothing inside, Nicola felt confident the chest belonged to the jongleur. She took the missive out of her basket and laid it on top of the clothing, then shut the lid. “Thank you,” she told the woman.
Nicola returned to the castle and went looking for de Ronay. When she didn’t find him in the hall, she asked the serving girls cleaning up if they had seen him. They told her he had left with Maida. Nicola was surprised. Maida seemed so young and innocent. But perhaps that was how de Ronay liked them.
Nicola felt a flare of distaste. De Ronay was the sort of man who charmed and seduced women and then left them alone and heartbroken and likely sometimes pregnant.
She began her search in the stables. When she first called out for him, there was no answer, even though she heard rustling noises in the hayloft. Changing strategy, she called Maida’s name, and was rewarded when a soft female voice responded, “Milady?”
Nicola made her voice hard. “De Ronay, are you there?”
More rustling. De Ronay leaned over the edge. “Milady?” he asked in a cool, sardonic tone.
“Please come down here. I must speak with you.”
More rustling and tense whispering. The jongleur appeared, wearing braes and chausses but no tunic. Nicola glanced at his bare chest and decided it was easy to tell de Ronay was not a knight. His lean, tanned body was as smooth and unmarred as a woman’s. “I left the missive you will carry to London in your storage coffer in the wagon,” she said, quietly.
“What about my payment?”
“I could hardly leave it with the missive. It would not be safe.”
“But when will you pay me? If you wish me to leave at first light, you should give it to me now.”
“Very well. Come with me. But put some clothes on first.”
De Ronay climbed back in the loft. Nicola looked around the stables, feeling a vague sense of unease. She hoped Maida hadn’t been able to hear their conversation.
A few moments later, de Ronay climbed down the ladder. This time he was fully dressed.
“Come,” Nicola said. Near the entrance of the stables, she hesitated, wondering if she should peek out and see if anyone was around to see them.
Even as she had the thought, a dark shape loomed in the doorway. “Nicola? What are you doing here?”
Chapter Seventeen
Nicola froze like a cornered coney. De Ronay was behind her. Long seconds passed as terrible thoughts went through Fawkes’s mind. Truly? You would dally with a jongleur in the stables? What sort of slut—
“My apologies to your wife, milord. I’m afraid she found me with one of the serving maids.” De Ronay’s tone was apologetic, but his words were smooth and practiced. “I didn’t realize the girl was so young.”
“He was with Maida,” Nicola said.
Relief crashed through Fawkes. The next moment his outrage returned. Cradle-robbing bastard! The girl couldn’t be more than thirteen summers! Fawkes felt the urge to grab the jongleur, throw him to the ground and pound his face to mush.
But he could not. It was an old belief, but deeply ingrained. Musicians and entertainers were special and must be protected. He could no more batter and beat de Ronay than he could a priest who angered him. Besides, it would not be a fair contest. He could easily kill de Ronay with one calculated blow.
“Get out of my sight, de Ronay. If I see you within the castle walls, or hear tell you have been with any female under my protection, I’ll cut your pretty face to ribbons. Do you understan
d?”
“Aye, milord.” The jongleur bowed and walked off, the lack of haste in his movements suggesting he had experienced many similar threats and survived them all.
“Thank you.” Nicola exhaled in apparent relief. “I don’t mind him dallying with the women, but when I learned he was with Maida, I thought about how I would feel if it were my younger sister.”
Fawkes nodded. His relief was so intense it made him almost dizzy. When he’d gone looking for Nicola and learned she’d asked about de Ronay and been seen going into the stables, his jealousy had flamed out of control. Convinced she was alone with the jongleur, he’d wanted to kill both of them. Thankfully, he’d been wrong. “Have you checked to see if Maida is well?” he asked.
“I thought I’d give her a moment to make herself presentable.”
“It got so far as that?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Fawkes felt a renewal of his outrage, as the image of Maida’s pert freckled nose and strawberry blonde curls filled his mind. The girl was too young to know what she was doing. “After you’ve seen to the girl, please meet me outside.”
He left the stables. As he waited for Nicola, he sought to calm himself. He still wanted to throttle de Ronay. At least the man would be gone on the morrow. That was something to be grateful for. With luck, Nicola had intervened before things went so far that Maida ended up with child. He wondered how Nicola had found out what was going on. He hadn’t seen her in the hall when de Ronay was flirting with the group of women. Indeed, he still didn’t know where she’d been that last few minutes.
He told himself to let it go, but somehow he couldn’t. Nicola had behaved oddly ever since the entertainers arrived. He kept going back to seeing her holding de Ronay’s arm. It had seemed like a gesture of familiarity. Now, looking back, he wondered if she’d grabbed the jongleur’s arm in distress. But why? What had he done to upset her?
A few moments later, Nicola came out of the stables with her arm around Maida. “I’m going to take her to the weaving shed. It may take a few moments to get her settled.”
He didn’t really want to stand around by the stables. “I’ll wait for you in the hall. Be as quick as you can. There are things I need to speak to you about.”
Nicola nodded in response.
****
“You need to know that some men are like that,” Nicola told Maida as they approached the rear of the weaving shed, where the castle’s unmarried female servants slept. “They’ll say all sorts of things to get you into bed.”
“I don’t care if he didn’t mean any of it!” Maida pulled away from Nicola. “This was my chance to lie with a man who is handsome and charming. To have a man rather than some stupid boy, or that old dullard my father arranged for me to wed!”
“You’re betrothed? To whom?”
Maida’s comely face twisted with scorn. “To Old Edwin. He must be thirty-five summers or more!”
Oh, aye. The man’s practically in his grave, Nicola thought irritably. Foolish Maida didn’t know how fortunate she was. Thirty-five was hardly old. She suspected the real reason Maida scorned Edwin was because he was a stolid, rather boring man. Yet he was also kind and generous. Maida could do much worse. Even so, Nicola couldn’t help asking, “Is there someone else you prefer? Some young man you have a fondness for?”
Maida shrugged. “I would fancy any man who could take me away from this place.”
“And you think the jongleur would?”
“He said as much.”
“That is most certainly a lie.” Maida gave her a sullen look. Nicola had the horrible thought that de Ronay might be lying to her as well. How would she know if he delivered the message or not? Again she focused on Maida, “Why do you want to leave Valmar?”
“I have no future here. The best I can hope to be is the wife of a farmer. It’s either that or a landless knight.”
“You must understand, Maida, the world the jongleur sings about isn’t real. It’s made up. A pretty tale. I know for a certainty he has no intention of taking you with him when he leaves, no matter what he promised you. You must find a way to be content with your lot in life, as we all must.”
Maida nodded, but there was resentful look in her eyes and a mutinous set to her jaw. As Nicola left she couldn’t help wondering what had happened to make this young woman so dissatisfied and restless. But she didn’t have time to worry about Maida. She must get the money for de Ronay, or all their futures would be in peril.
She crossed the yard. Avoiding the main entrance to the castle, she slipped in on the side. Her heart raced as she hurried to the tower stairs. If Fawkes saw her, her plan would be ruined.
She took the stairs as rapidly as she dared. In her bedchamber, she threw open the chest and dug beneath the clothing until she found the money pouch. She counted out the silver and then tried to decide what to carry it in. The silk wimple she wore for mass was hanging from the clothing pole. She snatched it up, wrapped the coins in it and tied the ends into a tight knot. After shoving everything else back in the chest and shutting the lid, she headed for the stairs.
Nicola made it out of the castle without incident. Near the gate, she slowed, not wanting to attract the guard’s attention. Only as she reached the entertainers’ camp did the anxiety squeezing her chest begin to ease.
Seeing no sign of de Ronay, she went to the wagon where he kept his things. Nicola opened his storage chest. The missive lay on top as before. She put the coins underneath it, then shut the chest and walked away. She had to get back to the castle.
On the way, she encountered one of the male tumblers. “Have you seen de Ronay?” she asked.
The man smirked at her. “Last I heard, he was meeting someone in the village.”
De Ronay was unbelievable. The jongleur had barely left Maida before setting up another assignation. Or perhaps he’d arranged both of the trysts earlier and planned to bed both women one after another. The sick feeling in her belly intensified. How could she trust a man who was so deceitful?
When she went through the gate, Fawkes was waiting. She squared her shoulders and prepared to face him. One more time she would lie. Then, God willing, she would be done with deceiving him.
****
“I don’t understand.” Fawkes said as he and Nicola walked back to the castle. “What good does it do to talk to the man now? I ordered de Ronay to leave. Surely you knew I didn’t want anyone at Valmar to have anything more to do with him—including you.” Fawkes sought to control his temper.
“I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. I can’t believe the lies he told poor Maida. That he meant to take her with him when he left tomorrow. As if he would make her his leman, or some such thing. And all the while he was planning to bed another woman as soon as he was done with her.”
“Truly? He arranged to meet someone else?”
“Aye. He’s with that woman now.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Fawkes shook his head, feeling the rage build up inside him. “I’m going to find him and give him a piece of my mind.” He started off.
Nicola was instantly beside him. She grabbed his arm. “Fawkes, you can’t! You know bards are protected. Well, he’s not a bard exactly, but close.”
“I’m not going to kill him. Or even hurt him very much. I’m going to put him in the souterrain and let him rot!”
“Nay, Fawkes! You can’t do that!”
He turned to look at her. Her face was pale and her gray eyes wild. For the thousandth time he wondered what was truly going on in her mind. “Why? Why can’t I imprison him?”
“Because…because as long as he is here, especially if he is your prisoner… What reason will you give people for what you’re doing? Even if he’s besmirched Maida’s honor, and that of some other woman, that still doesn’t give you cause to imprison him. You could demand he pay a fine perhaps. But I doubt he has much coin.”
She took a long breath. “Wouldn’t it be
better to get de Ronay away from here? At least for now? If we find he’s left a bastard in Maida’s or some other woman’s belly, then you can seek justice. But I suspect he’s clever enough to avoid getting them pregnant. Otherwise he wouldn’t have survived this long.”
“You think I should let him go. Walk away. Even after what he’s done to Maida?”
“Aye. Because if we keep him here, Maida will never move on with her life. She needs to wed the man her father has betrothed her to. Or find some other man who pleases her more. As long as de Ronay is here, she’ll cling to her silly fancy that he might take her with him someday. She’ll never be content.”
Fawkes had little hope Maida would ever be content anyway. But Nicola did have a point. He wanted de Ronay out of his sight and far, far away from Valmar.
“Very well. I’ll let the matter drop. As long as the sly bastard leaves in the morning.”
Nicola nodded, looking very relieved. “’Twill be better this way. I promise you.”
All her arguments were sound. He could not fault her reasoning. Still, he could not overcome the sense she was protecting de Ronay for some reason.
He shrugged to ease the tension. It had been a long day. Although he wasn’t physically fatigued, his mind was weary. There were times the responsibilities of being a lord were downright onerous. But there were benefits to his position. He glanced at Nicola and then took her hand. “Let’s go up to the bedchamber. You’ve done a great deal this day. You deserve to rest.”
She smiled at him. “I would like that. Although first I have another errand I must finish.”
“What is it? Why cannot it not wait until the morrow?”
“I need to tell Agelwulf to prepare some food for the performers to take with them. I promised I would do so, and I think they’ve earned it.”
“Aye,” Fawkes said, grudgingly. “All except that foul scoundrel de Ronay.”
“I won’t be long.” She touched his arm. “I promise.”
He nodded, wondering if it would always be like this. If he would have to share his wife with every other person in the castle, as well as visitors.
****
Lady of Steel Page 21
