by Linda Sole
Her mind busy planning what she would take with her, Rhoda had walked the length of the stables before she realised that Kerrin was not in the yard. Usually, he could be found training or grooming the horses at this hour. Where was he? Surely he must be within the manor walls?
A feeling of panic had begun to come over her. She went to the stable where he kept his own horse only to find it empty. His saddle and bridle had gone, as had the personal items he kept here. She was apprehensive as she hunted for his sword and suit of chain mail, tossing aside piles of straw in a feverish attempt to find something that remained. There was nothing to show that he had ever been here.
As she left the stable to return to the house one of the lads was passing. She seized his arm, careless in her panic.
‘Where is Kerrin? Where has he gone? You must tell me.’
The lad gave her a speculative knowing look before shaking his head. ‘I know not, Mistress Morgan. He rode out an hour since but he told me nothing of his plans. If you wish to know you must ask Master Harden.’
Rhoda stared at him unseeingly. She would not ask the horse master for in her heart she knew that Kerrin had gone far away, as he had told her he would. He had begged her to flee with him but she had refused. Her eyes filled with tears for she was sure that she would not see him again.
‘Rhoda.’ Hearing her nurse call to her, she turned away, running from the woman who had been both mother and friend to her all these past years. Anne had come to the house soon after Rhoda’s mother died and her father had taken in her, giving her charge of the motherless girl. ‘Come back, sweeting. It will soon be time for supper and your father sends for you.’
Rhoda fled towards the meadow, where she had lain with Kerrin earlier. She wished that she had given herself to him, had allowed him to pleasure her as he wished. He was the only man she would ever love and he had gone away from her – she had sent him away. Her heart seemed to split in two as she sank to her knees and wept.
What could she do? Her father was determined on the wedding that would end her life. She would rather die than lie with the Earl of Montroy.
‘Kerrin…come back to me,’ she sobbed. ‘I love you.’
Wandering through the meadow, she found the place where they had lain side by side. A glint of something metal caught her eye and she bent to retrieve a small buckle. It must have come from Kerrin’s jerkin when he reared up, rolling her beneath him. She held it in her hand, closing her fingers over it. At least she had something of him.
Rhoda raised her head, pride in every line of her body. She would never forget the man she had come so close to giving her innocence. They could force her to marry. Her husband could force her to yield to him in his bed – but he would never touch her heart.
*
Kerrin pushed his horse to the limit, wanting to put his kinsman’s land far behind him. He should have left the house of Sir Henry Morgan long ago for his kinsman did not value his service. Kerrin was not sure why, except that he suspected his mother had refused Sir Henry’s offer as a young woman, preferring to marry a man she loved. Eric Hurst was an impoverished knight and her family considered that she had shamed them. She had warned Kerrin not to take service with his distant cousin but he had not listened.
‘Henry will not welcome you, my son. He will see only the son of a man who took what he wanted. Your father was a good man but had no money. If he had not mismanaged his estate you would not need to go away to make your fortune.’
‘Surely Sir Henry will not bear a grudge, Mother? I am skilled in many ways. I can fight and I have a gift with horses. I can be of use to him.’
‘If you must leave to find your fortune let it be in the household of a stranger, my son. You will do better than with my cousin.’ She had pleaded with him, wanting to keep him with her but his ambition was for more than the modest house that his father had allowed to fall into disrepair. ‘You are skilled with horses, could you not become a farrier or a blacksmith and earn your living here?’
‘I am the son of a knight, Mother. I could rise high and bring our family back to respectability in the house of a noble lord.’
‘I fear Sir Henry will not receive you kindly. You may regret this decision, my son.’
Kerrin had laughed at her fears. He had travelled to Shrewsbury to offer his service to his mother’s kinsman. Sir Henry had given him work in the stables, promising that if he trained hard with the men-at-arms he would be promoted to a more important post but it had never happened. Gradually, Kerrin had understood that his mother was right. Her kinsman despised him because he was the son of a man he considered his inferior. Kerrin should have left to seek his fortune elsewhere but he had fallen in love with Rhoda the first time he saw her. Her beauty held him chained to her side for too long.
‘Damn her! And damn her father for his pride.
When his horse was blown, Kerrin dismounted and led the poor beast to a stream, letting it drink. He was sorry for his careless treatment of the horse, the more so because Merlin was all the fortune he had, besides the sword and the armour, which had been his father’s.
If he was to enter a knight’s service as a fighting man he would need both his horse and his armour. Kerrin soothed the horse, talking to it gently as he always did, soothing and easing the poor beast’s suffering.
‘Forgive me, friend,’ he whispered. ‘I have used you ill. I thought only of my anger and the hurt she inflicted – but I shall not treat you so again. We shall rest now and in the morning we shall go gently.’
Dusk was falling, covering the land in a cloak of darkness but the night held no fears for Kerrin. He was young and strong and few but the strongest of knights could best him in fair fight. His sense of outrage had carried him thus far but now he had begun to wonder what the future held.
The horse snickered, its heaving sides quieting. Kerrin glanced about him as the night fell. He had ridden away with no thought of his destination. He recalled that his father had once spoken of family in York. His father’s kin would be good honest folk and might welcome him. Perhaps he could learn from them of a knight who looked for men to serve him. It would suit Kerrin if he could serve a man who had been a soldier, perhaps someone who might take him on a crusade to the Holy Land. His dreams of Rhoda had turned to dust. She had chosen to marry for wealth and position. He would be a fool to think of her again. Yet as he settled down on the hard ground, wrapping his cloak about him,
it was the thought of Rhoda laughing up at him that filled his dreams.
*
‘I am glad you have come to me,’ Mother Abbess said as she studied the face of her younger sister’s husband. Robert Devereaux was a handsome man but she suspected him of vanity. It was his love of pomp and his desire for royal favour that had caused him to travel to Spain for the marriage of his prince when his wife was so close to her time. ‘I hope you intend to exact payment from Montroy for what he did to my sister and brother?’
‘You have my promise that he will pay for his misdeeds. I loved Melloria and Daubeney was a sweet youth for whom I had some fondness.’
‘You should not have left him in charge of your castle.’ Anger made her stern. ‘He was a troubadour and a poet not a soldier. Could you not have found someone more used to battle?’
‘Had I imagined Montroy planned to attack us I should never have left England. Do you not think I bitterly regret what happened?’
Beatrice’s expression did not soften. She accepted that he was sincere but his grief did not excuse his wanton neglect of his wife, unborn child and brother-in-law.
‘Have you discovered what befell my sister?’
‘I have made inquiries at the villages about the Castle of Devereaux. You know that Melloria sent her ladies here for they remain with you I believe?’
‘All but the Lady Alicia. Her parents sent for her almost at once. A marriage has been arranged for her…’ Beatrice wrinkled her forehead in thought. ‘I have heard something but I do not know how true it may be. A
woman with a young babe was seen making inquiries where a wet-nurse might be found in the village not five leagues from here.’
‘A child?’ Robert’s gaze narrowed. ‘When did this happen? Are you implying…you think the babe could be Melloria’s? My son?’
‘The babe was a female. I was told that she had red hair, though the mother’s was light brown – and they were seen in the village two days after the castle was attacked.’
‘Melloria thought she would bear a son because she grew so big…’
‘A woman may fancy she bears a son to please her husband.’ Beatrice watched the play of emotions on his face. ‘I know not whether the child is my sister’s. I have no way of finding the woman or the child because my life is spent here in the service of God. You could make inquiries in the village. You could send someone to try to discover where she went when she moved on.’
‘I shall go myself. May I beg shelter for my men at your guesthouse, Mother? We would trouble you for only one night.’
‘This is a house of women, my lord. However, the men may use the stables for they are separated from our dormitories by walls and a stout gate that is locked at night.’
‘I thank you on their behalf. They will do well enough in the stables, as shall I when I return.’
‘You and Sir Jonathan are welcome to stay in the guesthouse.’
‘The stables will suffice for one night.’ Robert’s gaze gave nothing away as he made his bow. ‘My wife would have wanted to secure the future of the Abbey for your sake. I shall grant you the farms at Devereaux and also the right to take fish from the stream and game from the woods there. These rights shall belong to the Abbey for as long as you remain its Abbess.’
‘We are grateful for your generosity.’ Beatrice was softened sufficiently to say, ‘I know that your grief is sincere, my lord. If the child is found you may discover where Melloria’s body lies.’
‘Yes.’ His face twisted with grief. ‘I would rest easier if I could at least say farewell at her graveside.’
‘Amen.’ Beatrice inclined her head piously. ‘May God watch over you and grant you success in your search. You will tell me what you discover?’
‘Of course.’ Robert bowed to her, turned and strode from the room.
After he had gone, Beatrice returned to the stool that she used when writing her accounts. The board at which she worked was set with books and scraps of parchment, ink, quills, wax and the seal she used when writing her letters. She had in front of her a half-finished letter addressed to the Bishop of Winchester. The Bishop had shown favour to the small abbey and its inhabitants in the past and was a generous man. She had heard that the woman who had travelled this way with a small babe she could not feed herself might be on her way there. Had Beatrice been less displeased with Robert of Devereaux, she might have saved him a visit to the village, but even his gifts had not recompensed her for the loss of a dear sister. Had she had it in her power to punish him further she would have made him do penance. She could only hope that his grief continued to cause him sleepless nights.
‘God forgive me,’ she whispered and made the sign of the cross over herself. She had been taught to forgive but there was anger in her – anger at the way her sister had been treated, and anger against Robert for deserting her.
*
Kerrin left the village after purchasing bread and a skin of wine. The purse he wore attached to the belt that hung on his hips over his short tunic was growing lighter by the day. There were still ten silver pennies inside, but he had found it harder than he’d imagined to gain employment as he journeyed north to the home of his mother’s kinsmen. Folk looked suspiciously at a stranger and he had been refused access to the manor of a nobleman, where he had asked for service. Had the Abbey of Saint Innocent been inhabited by monks, he might have asked there if they had work for him. However, it was a nunnery and he did not think he would be offered even lodging by the Abbess, who had a reputation for being stern and allowed only the chosen few to rest at the guesthouse. He was not certain how much further he had to travel and he did not want to arrive penniless. Any work would be welcome for the time being, and it was in his mind to ask at the various farms and manors if there were any sick horses he might tend. People were sometimes glad of his skill with livestock for he had a knack of discovering what ailed the beasts.
These past few days he had wondered if his departure from Shrewsbury and the home of his mother’s kinsman had been precipitate. Would Rhoda have relented if he had waited a little longer? His thoughts were filled with pictures of her lying in the meadow, her lovely hair spread out on the ground. Did she think of him? Had she regretted her careless words in the meadow? Had he allowed his pride to cloud his judgement?
When he heard screams and the sound of fighting, he was brought sharply back to reality. Looking about for the source of the disturbance, he saw that a man on a huge chestnut war-horse was being attacked by what looked like a band of vagrants. Without thinking of the consequences, he shouted a warning, drew his father’s sword and charged into the attack.
The nobleman, for such he was by his rich tunic, was laying about him to left and right with a heavy broadsword but there were twenty or more of the robbers intent on pulling him down from his horse. Although clad in banded mail beneath his tunic, he wore no heaume and had obviously thought himself safe from attack. It looked as if he might be overcome by sheer numbers. However, when Kerrin swooped on them out of nowhere, cutting down three of them before they knew he was upon them, they looked startled and one of them, seemingly the leader, grunted something that sent the rest of the rogues scuttling into the dense woods from whence they had come. The battle had been brief but glorious and Kerrin was laughing when he turned to look at the nobleman.
‘My thanks to you, sir,’ the man said and saluted Kerrin with a mailed fist. A baldrick of fine leather was slung across his chest; his hose were stained with blood as were his boots and his horse’s flanks, but he was elated by the fight. ‘I have faced fiercer enemies but there were a few too many of them to make it an easy conquest.’
‘You are welcome, my lord. The forests are filled with such rogues and it is not wise for a man of wealth to travel alone.’
‘It was foolish of me to leave my men at the Abbey but I thought myself safe enough in these parts.’ Blue eyes narrowed inquiringly. ‘May I ask the name of my good Samaritan?’
‘Kerrin of…Shrewsbury, at your service, my lord.’
The man brought his horse alongside him, offering his hand. ‘My thanks to you, Kerrin of Shrewsbury. Where are you headed this day?’
‘I look for work, my lord. My kinsman refuses to make me his squire though I have trained hard for these many years. I have skills both as a man-at-arms and with horses.’
‘You are looking to take service with a lord who will give you employment suited to your skills and the chance to earn your spurs?’
‘Aye, my lord, I am.’
‘Then you need look no further, Kerrin of Shrewsbury. I am the Earl Devereaux and in need of men with skills such as yours. There is a noble with whom I have a score to settle and there will be bitter fighting before the debt is settled. Will you take service with me?’
‘Right gladly, my lord.’ Kerrin grinned. It seemed that the fates had looked kindly on him this day. ‘Think you that those ruffians might have been sent by your enemy?’
‘Montroy could not have known I would be here or alone on this day. No, they were but a band of vagabonds seeking to rob an unwary traveller. Thanks to you, they failed. Come with me as I visit the village, for I have inquiries to make there, and then we shall return to the Abbey for the night. In the morning I travel to Fountains Abbey to say a mass and then the Castle of Craigmoor, which is some forty leagues from Winchester.’
‘Yes, my lord. Willingly.’
Kerrin turned his head so that his new lord would not see the eagerness in his eyes. If the Earl Devereaux intended to destroy Montroy Rhoda would not be forced to wed
him. He had been even more fortunate this day than he dreamed.
If Montroy were dead, Rhoda could not marry him. Her father would need to find another husband for her and perhaps when he learned that Kerrin had found service in the household of the great Earl Devereaux he would relent and allow her to marry the man of her choosing.
FOUR
Robert knelt before the altar in the chapel his head bowed in prayer. What he had learned that day had filled him with a fierce hunger for the truth. The innkeeper had told him that a woman had passed this way two days after the Castle Devereaux was taken by Montroy’s men-at-arms. She was a woman still young enough to bear a child but she had no milk to feed it and she claimed its mother was dead. The innkeeper had sold her a goat for a silver candlestick and she had departed after breaking her fast.
‘What manner of woman was she?’ Robert asked of his informant.
‘Not ill looking, my lord, perhaps of seven and twenty years. She spoke in the manner of a servant but held herself proudly. The child was beautiful; a girl child with red hair and greenish blue eyes.’
Robert had thanked him, rewarding him with a silver sterling for his trouble. A girl child with red hair and green eyes. It could be coincidence, he knew, but that the babe should have Melloria’s hair and eyes gave him reason to hope that the child was his. If the woman’s tale were true it meant that his wife was dead, but he had already begun to accept that in his heart and to grieve for the woman he had truly loved.
He could not bring his wife back from the dead, but if her child lived he would find it.
*
Anne looked up as Nicholas entered the chamber where she liked to sit in the mornings, because it caught the early sunshine. He was carrying their child and Iolanthe was gurgling with laughter, happy and indulged, as was she herself.
