by Linda Sole
Rhoda’s heart raced as the forest became denser and the sounds of fighting faded into the distance. She knew that at first they had been alone but after a while she was aware of other men following. Were they her father’s or did they serve the knight who had so skilfully stolen her from under her father’s nose? She wondered belatedly what would happen to her father. Despite his behaviour to her she would not wish him killed, but there was no chance to ask the knight for he seemed determined to put as much distance between her father’s train and themselves as possible.
Since no attack was made and no one attempted to snatch her back, she accepted that the men following were not her father’s. She began to wonder where she was being taken and why. It was very strange that these men had taken her rather than the baggage her father had sent on ahead. If it was money they wanted…but no, she did not think they were after her father’s possessions. As strange as it seemed, she believed the attack had been made solely to steal her away. Her heart suddenly took a great leap. Could Kerrin possibly be behind this audacious abduction?
The more she thought of it the more it seemed the most likely explanation. Kerrin loved her. She thought he had gone away, perhaps to France or Italy as he had threatened, but supposing he had stayed in England and planned to steal her from her father?
How had he persuaded this knight to help him? Kerrin had no fortune and no influence. Yet it was the only explanation that came to her. It was not until later in the afternoon when they emerged from the woods and she saw an expanse of open countryside that she began to realise there might be one other reason why she had been stolen. If the Earl of Montroy
had an enemy, she might be held to ransom in settlement of a debt.
Quarrels and feuds amongst the nobility were often settled in this way. She was to have been Montroy’s bride, therefore she had a value. What would the earl pay to have her back? She knew her father had little gold to offer but Montroy was rich. Would he consider it worth his while to pay for her return – or would he refuse?
Rhoda hoped he would refuse. She did not want to be sold as if she were a war-horse or piece of property. Someone had stolen her from her betrothed and she was not going to be handed back after gold had changed hands. She would find a way of making sure that it didn’t happen, though at this moment in time she had no idea how that could be achieved. All she could do for the present was to obey the knight and trust to his word that he would not harm her.
Rhoda knew that sometimes when women were taken like this they were ravished and sent back to their lords in disgrace. She had heard of a young wife who, when her husband refused to take her back after she had been despoiled, had taken her own life by walking into the river. That would not be her way. Good fortune had come to her through the knight with the steady grey eyes. Somehow she would persuade him not to give her back.
*
‘How dare you snatch my daughter?’ Sir Henry demanded of the man who had commanded the attack, which had taken his train by surprise. Afraid for his life, he had obeyed when told to surrender, laying down his sword and bidding his men to do likewise. It would have been useless to resist for they were outnumbered and the earl’s men were much stronger and more skilled. ‘Why have you done this wicked thing, sir? What is your quarrel with me? I know your pennant but we have never met before this day.’
‘My quarrel is not with you, Sir Henry,’ the earl replied. ‘Montroy attacked my castle at Devereaux. He burned it to the ground after killing my wife’s brother and casting her out into a bitter night. She was carrying my child and it is unlikely that she survived for no one has heard of her in all these months. You betrothed your daughter to Montroy and therefore we have taken her hostage.’
‘My poor child.’ Sir Henry crossed himself. ‘What will you do with her? I pray you will not harm her. She is innocent and knows nothing of the world.’
‘She will not be harmed. I give you my word. My quarrel is with Montroy not an innocent lady.’
‘Will you not release her to me? She was to have been married in a few days. I do not have a vast fortune but I could pay something.’
‘Montroy must pay for his sins.’ Robert looked him in the eyes. ‘You should not have chosen such a man as your daughter’s husband. Have you not heard what kind of villain he is? Two women lie in their graves because of his wickedness, and there may be others. He is a brute and cruel beyond your imagining. Your daughter would have suffered at his hands. If she could not give him a son she too would soon lie in her grave. Only a careless father would give his daughter to such a man.’
‘Sir, you are unjust. I thought only to provide Rhoda with a home she could be proud of and all the luxuries her husband could provide for her.’
‘What use are jewels and silks to a woman in her grave?’
Sir Henry bowed his head before the earl’s stern gaze. ‘I should never have given her to him. She begged me to reconsider but I would not listen. I thought…’ His eyes was drawn to one of the earl’s men-at-arms. He could not be certain at this distance but he thought he knew the man. Suspicion clouded his judgement. ‘You are a rogue and a knave, sir! Why should I listen to a word you say?’
Robert restrained his anger. He had thought the man would be sensible but it seemed he was a fool and had no mind to listen.
‘Save your curses, sirrah. I will excuse you for you do not know what has befallen you. I could if I wished force you to pay a ransom for your freedom.’ He saw the look of fear in Sir Henry’s face but showed no emotion. ‘However, the price you must pay is to deliver my message to the Earl of Montroy.’
‘What would you have me say to him?’
‘You may tell him that he must pay one thousand gold marks for the recovery of his bride. If he does not pay he will never see her again yet the debt will not be settled. I shall still sue for recompense before the King.’
Sir Henry’s cheeks paled. ‘If I gave Montroy such a message he would kill me.’
‘You may couch it in terms of your own but that is my message. Will you carry it or reside in a dungeon while your steward raises the ransom?’
‘I could never pay one thousand gold marks. My whole estate is worth but a fraction of that amount.’
‘Then you will languish in my oubliette until you are dead.’ Robert’s gaze was as hard as iron. ‘The choice is yours. Montroy will pay one way or the other…’
SEVEN
Nicholas paused to look at the pots and vials on the apothecary’s stall. His lips curled back in a sneer of disgust as the man tried to sell him a potion that would cure everything. He took out the stopper and sniffed the contents. It was merely a stomachic with ginger balsam and would cure little but indigestion.
‘Only two shillings and a cure for every disease known to man,’ the charlatan said. ‘It is a preventative against all manner of ills, my lord.’
‘Indeed?’ Nicholas raised his brows in disbelief and then turned away. Anne had stopped by a merchant selling materials and seemed to be intent on purchasing some ells. He walked up to her and looked at the goods on offer. ‘How much is this cloth, good sir?’
‘That one is beautiful, my lord – and cheap at two shillings a yard. It would make a wonderful robe with trimmings of rabbit and lined with lambskin.’
‘Yes, I believe it would. We shall take all you have of this cloth.’
‘I was thinking of tunics for the servants,’ Anne said as he fingered more cloth. ‘What do you think of this for fourteen pennies a yard?’
‘I think you have the tastes of royalty and it is as well my purse is almost as large as the King’s.’
‘Are we rich, husband?’ Anne asked curiously.
‘Rich enough that you need not to hesitate to buy what you require.’
‘I thought we should buy twenty pounds of almonds and raisins, a frail of figs and some ells of linen to make new bed sheets.’
‘What about this scarlet cloth?’ Nicholas said and asked the merchant his price.
‘For the whole piece it would be one hundred marks, my lord.’
‘Nicholas, that is too much.’ Anne cried as he nodded assent. ‘Indeed, you must have a king’s ransom if you spend so freely.’
‘The fair comes only once a year, Anne. Besides, it is time you had a new cloak and this cloth lined with lambskin will keep out the winter winds.’
‘You spoil me…’ She pointed out a stall selling some of the foodstuffs they needed and walked off to investigate. Nicholas followed. He purchased lampreys, which were a rare treat, for the king had the first call on the delicacy, pressed grapes, cinnamon, dates, gingerbread and salted herring. Also three tuns of Gascony wine and two of Anjou, lastly some raspberry wine for Anne’s sweet tooth.
‘Now you must have a trinket,’ he said as Anne came back to him. ‘I saw a peddler selling Roman earrings and gold bangles a moment or two ago. The earrings are merely beads threaded on silver wife but pretty. We have ordered enough food to last the winter I think, but what would you have for yourself?’
‘You have bought me that scarlet cloth, Nicholas. I need nothing more.’
‘I insist that you choose some trinket for yourself.’
‘If you will have it, purchase some more silks for my embroidery,’ Anne said, her eyes bright. ‘I cannot recall ever enjoying myself so much, husband – though I am sure I must have been to a fair before?’ She raised her eyebrows to question him, but he merely smiled.
‘I am certain you have,’ he replied and took her arm, applying sudden pressure to her arm as he led her away from the stalls. ‘We shall order your silks and then I think we should go home. You must not tire yourself, Anne.’
‘I am perfectly well now…’
Anne had the strangest feeling that she was being rushed away, though she had no idea why. Nicholas had suddenly closed up on her and she felt as if he had shut her out.
*
Nicholas cursed the ill chance that had brought a merchant he knew from the past to the fair. There were merchants from Bruges, Hamburg, Bordeaux and Rouen, but the man was an Italian who had often served him when he was Count Niccolai Malvolia, and he had not wanted to be addressed in such manner while in Anne’s company. She would have sensed a mystery and she was already beginning to ask too many questions.
While she was ill and unable to do much, she had accepted her lack of memory but now she pushed for the things that lay behind the curtain in her mind. Nicholas was ever mindful that the curtain might lift at any time and then she would know him for the wicked liar he was. He had no right to hide what little he knew from her, for as yet his inquiries concerning Anne had been discreet and had come to naught. Yet he knew that she had come to him on the night that a certain castle had been stormed, and had he wished he might have pieced the facts together.
How long would he be able to hide the fact that she had given birth to two children and that she was not his wife?
He was trying to find the babe Marta had stolen, but as yet there was no news that brought him hope, no answers to the letters he had sent out months ago. If he could find the child and restore her to her mother he would be glad to tell Anne but until that moment it was a guilty secret he must guard.
Like the secrets in the book he kept hidden in his chambers.
Nicholas had not touched the book since he used it to bring Anne back to herself. Yet the thought of what more he might achieve if he overcame his scruples and indulged in the sorcery that lay between its ancient pages had begun to haunt him.
It was almost as if a little demon sat on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
*
Anne was taking off her cloak when she heard the child crying. She hurried to the next room thinking that it must be Iolanthe, but to her relief she found the child playing happily with the doll Nicholas had bought her from the fair.
Where had the sound of crying come from? Anne had heard it once or twice before and discovered that Iolanthe was sleeping soundly.
There were no other children in the house. It was very strange because she was certain it had not been a cat or even the wind in the eaves.
The sound made her heart ache for the child sounded lost and afraid and Anne wanted to comfort it, as she would comfort Iolanthe. Yet there was no child…no other child but Iolanthe. So why had she heard the crying?
Shaking her head, Anne went downstairs. They had purchased so much for the store cupboard and she wanted to make sure that it was all put away safely. There was no crying child, except in her imagination.
*
‘Don’t cry, Mary,’ Marta said and gave her a little tap on the backside as she let out another wail. ‘You cannot have more milk for there is none in the house. You must wait until Todd gives me some money so that I can buy some for our supper.’
Marta sighed as she wiped her hands on her cloth. It wasn’t the child’s fault, she didn’t understand. Marta had been baking all morning and was feeling out of sorts. Her affection for the child was strong but there were times when she thought she must have been mad to have walked all the way here with a baby.
Todd fed them and there was always wood for the fire, but he did not give Marta more than a few silver pennies and she had to make the most of it to buy the food they needed. She would not have called her brother mean, for she did not know how much he earned, but sometimes she would have liked a few coins for herself. She needed new boots and the child needed clothes, but Todd put off giving her money for as long as he could.
She would have to speak to him this night so that she could go shopping in the morning. In the meantime, Mary would have a piece of bread dipped in the bacon fat and make the best of it.
*
Todd was drawing up a design for a bench, the back of which would be carved with images of Devils, gargoyles and angels. The work had been commissioned a few days previously by the priest of St. Mathew in the Wold, a village church some ten or more leagues from Winchester. Father Andrew had made the journey to see Todd because news of his fine carving had reached him and the church’s patron had given money for the bench to be made.
‘Let it not be too comfortable lest it encourage the ungodly to sleep during service,’ Father Andrew told him. He ran his hand over a small panel Todd had carved to replace one that had rotted in the cathedral nave. ‘This is very fine work and worthy of praise, Master Carpenter. I would like the back of the bench to be high and carved much as this panel.’
‘The heads on this panel are very pronounced. If a man leaned his back against it he would find it almost painful.’
‘Good.’ Father Andrew nodded without smiling. ‘It will keep my patron awake when I preach. How much will you charge me for something as fine as this panel?’
‘The bench and arms will be simple to make but a carved back such as you require takes many hours of work. For that I would require five pounds of silver coin.’
The priest looked at him consideringly. Craftsmen would always cheat you if they could but his patron had given him three gold marks to purchase the bench and have a small repair made to the church roof.
‘I believe four pounds of silver to be a fairer price, Master Carpenter. Come shake my hand on it.’
Four silver pounds was a fair price but Todd hesitated, his expression stubborn. ‘Five pounds is my price – but I will throw in the repair to the roof you mentioned earlier.’
The priest looked at him for a moment, then inclined his head. ‘Very well, I accept your price, Master Carpenter. Here’s my hand on it…’ He turned to look as the shop door opened and a woman and child came in. ‘I did not know you were married?’
‘I am not, Father – this woman is my sister Marta. She has been living in the north of England for some years but her husband died and she brought her daughter back to live with her family.’
Father Andrew’s eyes moved to the child. The girl was perhaps a little more than a year old and very beautiful to look upon. She did not resemble her mother in the least, for her features were finer and
her colouring delicate, whereas the woman had the robust look of her class. He took particular note of the girl’s hair for it was an unusual colour.
‘For how long have you been living here with your brother, mistress?’
‘A little more than a year, Father. When my husband died I was left with only a few pence and I walked here, seeking a lift from a kindly carter now and then.’
‘From whence came you, mistress?’
‘Our home was near Malham in the Yorkshire Dales, Father.’ Marta avoided his penetrating gaze as she lied. Malvern was further north but she was afraid that someone might be looking for her even after all this time.
‘You had a long walk then.’ The priest turned his attention back to Todd as Marta went through the door at the back of the shop into the kitchen behind. ‘How much do you require as a token of good faith, Master Carpenter?’
‘Nothing from a man of God.’ Todd met his gaze steadily. ‘Your word is your bond, as is mine.’
They shook hands once more and the priest left. The moment the shop door closed behind him, Marta came back from the kitchen. There was fear in her eyes as she looked at her brother.
‘Why did he ask so many questions? I was in the market buying flour and spices and someone asked me how old my daughter was. The way he looked at Mary made my flesh creep. What do you think is going on, brother? Why should people suddenly want to know about my daughter?’
‘It was but an idle question, sister,’ Todd said. ‘You worry too much. You told me the mother was dead, why would anyone look for the child?’
‘She was a lady of good birth. She turned up at the gates of Malvern that terrible night and no one knew her name or how she had come there, but she must have had a family. Perhaps they are looking for her. They may have sent messengers to ask for word of the child.’
Todd took off the leather apron he wore in his little shop. He reached for his grey wool hooded jerkin, pulling it on over his short tunic.
‘You are worried, Marta. I shall go to the alehouse for if there is gossip I shall surely hear of it there.’
