by Linda Sole
Todd had taken himself off to the alehouse. He had three silver pennies in his pocket when he entered and none when he left. After the first tankard of strong ale he had forgotten why he had come there. He was far from drunk for he was a man that could carry his drink but his mood was careless, a little merry. Marta had questioned him when he returned home and he told her there was nothing to worry about. However, since that morning he had begun to wonder what lay behind the priest’s questions.
The bench Father Andrew had commissioned was almost finished; he had one panel to complete but he was in no hurry for he enjoyed his work and gained pleasure from making a thing of beauty. Tomorrow he would make the journey to examine and repair the roof of St Matthew in the Wold. He would hear what the priest had to say…if there were any more questions about Marta’s daughter.
EIGHT
Rhoda saw the great castle looming out of the gloom. They had been riding all day and for most of the night with little rest. She was feeling tired and apprehensive. Was this their destination? A quiver of apprehension ran down her spine. Once inside those walls she would truly be a prisoner. If she wanted to escape she should have taken her chance earlier when it was still light. The thought of spending a night alone, forced to sleep in the open without food or bedding was too daunting. The castle looked like a prison but she still had her wits and she would find some way to escape if it became necessary.
The castle was surrounded by a moat but someone let the drawbridge down as they approached. The small party clattered over the wooden bridge into the outer bailey. The horses came to a halt without prompting, as if they knew they were home. Her captor dismounted and came to her, offering his hand to help her.
She allowed him to pluck her from the saddle, sliding down into his arms, relieved to have her feet on the ground at last. As soon as she was steady he let her go, his gaze serious as he looked at her.
‘Welcome to Craigmoor, lady. I am Sir Jonathan Searles and this castle is the home of the Earl of Devereaux.’
‘Tell me, am I your prisoner?’
‘You are our guest. The earl bid me to assure you that you will be treated as a guest while you remain under his roof. However, you must remain within the castle walls.’
‘Why have I been brought here? What is your quarrel with Montroy?’
‘The earl will tell you more when he comes, lady. Believe me when I say that we intend you no harm.’
Rhoda made no answer. Instead she followed him through a gate into the inner bailey. She saw that the castle consisted of a keep, which was a stout square tower that looked as if it would withstand any siege and a sturdy manor house built to the rear of the keep. The house was built with an undercroft for storing goods and an upper storey, which probably consisted of a large hall and one or two bedrooms, which would belong to the lord and his wife. His retainers would sleep in the hall, curling up in their blankets when all the trestles and boards had been cleared after supper. The design was much the same as her father’s house but looked larger. The huddle of buildings at the rear of the house were the bakehouse, forge, kitchens and other workshops for the craftsmen needed to supply and serve the castle. There was also a small chapel where the earl could say his prayers when he did not choose to attend the church in the nearby village.
Sir Jonathan led the way up the stone steps built on the outside walls that led up to the hall and living rooms; they were placed adjacent to the wall but open on one side so that the unwary could fall. Any man who had drunk too well would be advised to seek shelter in the stables rather than climb these steps in the dark.
‘Can you see your way?’ Sir Jonathan turned back to her, holding his torch aloft so that she had more light.
‘Thank you. I can see well enough.’
Sir Jonathan held the oak door wide for her to enter. Inside, rush lights dipped in tallow burned from iron sconces attached to the stone walls. They were in a small room where it seemed weapons were stored. Her escort did not pause but went through the next door into the great hall. It was vast indeed, as she had thought from the outside, considerably larger than the hall at her father’s house. The thick walls were hung with fine tapestry; a magnificent oak and iron bound coffer on a stand dominated one corner and there were plain benches set back against the walls. These would be brought forward at night when the trestles and boards were set up. A display of silver and silver gilt were set on the table at the far end of the hall. Judging by the weight of the oak table, which had huge bulbous legs and a band of carving at the front of the board, this was not set aside when the evening meal was done but remained in place permanently. Banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, which was painted with bold colours of crimson, blue, yellow and gold, and must have cost the earl a fortune. Behind the high table was set an impressive chair with carved arms and two others of slightly less importance. At the opposite end of the hall to the table a huge open grate held what looked like half the trunk of a small tree. The fire burned fiercely and sent heat into the room, a luxury Rhoda’s father allowed only when it was very cold.
The master of this castle was undoubtedly both powerful and rich. Rhoda had seen men in the inner bailey and here there were several more. They sat or stood near the fire and were laughing at some joke, though once they became aware of her they fell silent, their eyes turned on her with interest.
‘As you see, our guest has arrived,’ Sir Jonathan said. ‘Please send for Joanne to attend her.’ The men who had been sitting rose to their feet and bowed to Rhoda. She inclined her head regally, satisfied that as yet she was certainly being treated as a guest. ‘Please follow me, lady.’
Jonathan led the way past the high table with its impressive silver-gilt salt and the heavy candlesticks that flanked it. Several large platters were set out along the board. Rhoda wondered if they were used at suppertime or merely to show off the earl’s wealth.
To the right of the dais, a heavy, brocaded damask curtain hid a door, which was revealed when Sir Jonathan drew it back. He opened it, standing aside for her to enter. Walking past him into the chamber beyond, Rhoda found herself in a room that exceeded her notions of luxury. One wall had been painted with bright colours and gold leaf, depicting stars, the moon and a scene of knights and ladies resting by a river; the abundance of gold and yellow paint gave the chamber a sunny appearance, though no light but the moon’s came through the window. The other walls had rich tapestries and to Rhoda’s surprise she saw that there was a small carpet on the floor near the bed. The window had tiny leaded panes of glass and one was stained with a design of a red rose with a green stem and prickly thorns in the arch at the top. Everything about the house proclaimed that the earl was a very rich man for no expense had been spared.
‘I have never seen walls painted in quite this way. The tapestries and glass in the windows must make it seem warmer in winter. At home we have only iron bars and shutters, and when the shutters are open the wind blows the smoke back into the room.’
‘Yes, I believe it is often so. Robert had this chamber made comfortable for his wife. They often used it during the day as well as at night. I find it comfortable to sleep in the hall near the fire, as most of the men do. The earl’s chamber is through that door…’ He pointed it out to her. ‘You will find it locked and the key your own side. My lord wishes you to feel secure. This chamber was meant for his wife but as she no longer needs it…’ he broke off with a frown.
Rhoda’s curiosity was aroused. ‘Why does the countess no longer need her chamber? Does she live in her own house?’ It was sometimes the custom for great ladies to have their own manors once the heirs were established.
‘The countess is thought dead.’ Sir Jonathan’s eyes suddenly seemed colder than before. ‘Her death lies at Montroy’s door. He is guilty of the murder of Melloria Devereaux, her unborn child and her brother, though only one died at his hand.’
Rhoda’s eyes widened for she sensed his anger and something more. Her instinct told her that Melloria Devereaux ha
d been more to him than his lord’s wife, though he might never have admitted it even to himself. Watching the little pulse that worked at his throat, she guessed that he had loved a woman he could never have.
‘I am sorry the lady died,’ she said softly. ‘I understand why the earl seeks revenge on Montroy – but I hope neither you or the earl will blame me for his sins.’
The heat faded from Jonathan’s eyes. ‘You are innocent, lady. If Montroy pays the ransom demanded you will be returned to him unharmed.’
‘If he refuses – what then?’
‘The earl will decide. I am merely his kinsman and his friend.’
Rhoda lifted her head proudly. ‘I hope Montroy will not pay. I do not want to be ransomed. I would rather die than be the wife of that man.’
Jonathan looked startled. ‘But you were to have been married in two days?’
‘My father forced me to consent. I was thinking of some way to escape when I rode through the forest and then you came. You saved me.’ She moved closer to him. The tip of her tongue moved over her lips, moistening them as she gazed up into his eyes. ‘Please do not let the earl send me back. I would do anything rather than go to Montroy.’
Jonathan stared down at her for a moment. She sensed that he was caught and felt that he would make her the promise she craved but at that moment the door opened once more and a young girl entered.
She approached Rhoda and made her a nervous curtsey. ‘I am Joanne and I am to serve you while you stay here. What may I bring you?’
‘You may order Joanne as you would your own servant.’ Jonathan broke away, moving towards the door. He glanced back at her, his face devoid of emotion. ‘You may walk in the inner bailey but you will not be allowed to leave the castle unless you are escorted by the earl or myself. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Rhoda smiled at him.
She was almost certain that he had felt something for her in that moment before the servant girl arrived. Perhaps he would help her to escape from a marriage that would be hateful to her.
*
‘What do you say?’ Montroy glowered down at the shorter man. Sir Henry quailed beneath his glare, his manner obsequious as he begged for pardon. ‘You allowed them to take her without a fight? How could you be such a coward? Have you no guts, man? She was your daughter and my betrothed. You have betrayed me.’
‘No, my lord, I beg you not to blame me for what happened. The Earl’s force was superior. My men were taken by surprise for the King has forbidden such feuds between the barons and…’ He drew a deep breath as Montroy’s expression darkened. ‘He forced me to bring his demands on pain of death…’ It was not quite the truth but Sir Henry did not dare to tell Montroy exactly what terms had been offered. ‘He has promised that my daughter will not be harmed. She will be returned untouched on payment of one hundred gold marks…payment for the destruction of…’ his words trailed away for he dared say no more. ‘I did not even know they had taken her for they came at us from the front while another party took her from the rear.’
‘You should have kept her by your side and defended her with your life.’ Montroy smashed his fist against a stone pillar of the undercroft where they stood. ‘By the Body of Christ I shall see him dead for this outrage.’
‘It is not such a vast sum for a rich lord…’ Sir Henry caught his breath as Montroy’s furious eyes turned on him. ‘If she means anything to you perhaps you could negotiate the sum?’
‘I shall not pay one penny piece. She is mine, bought and paid for – unless you wish to return the two hundred gold marks I paid you?’
‘I cannot return the money. You know I was in debt.’ It had been the reason he had agreed to the marriage so easily. ‘What will happen to my daughter? If you refuse they may…’
‘Despoil her?’ Montroy’s gaze narrowed. ‘If they have used her for their own pleasure I shall kill every man in Devereaux’s employ. There will be no peace until one of us is dead. He shall be made to pay for this, believe me.’
‘But what of Rhoda?’
‘If she is spoiled goods I may take her as my whore. She may not expect marriage after this for her reputation is tainted.’
‘But the earl promised no harm would come to her.’
Montroy smashed his mailed fist against the stone pillar once more. ‘Seek recompense from him. I will give you twelve months to gather what you owe me. After that I shall come looking for payment.’ His eyes were filled with hatred. ‘Now get out of here and do not bother me again.’
Sir Harry stared at him in disbelief. He had taken the bribe thinking it would clear his debts but now he must repay the money. The only way he could do that was by selling land. Ruin stared him in the face. Without land he could not pay his taxes or continue to live in his fine house. Montroy was striding away, shouting orders at underlings. As far as he was concerned the matter was finished. Sir Harry staggered away as his world crashed about his ears. Why had he not listened to Rhoda’s pleas? If he had refused the offer he might have paid off some of his debts and still had his daughter. There were other rich men who would have paid to have her as their wife. Now he had lost everything and it was all down to that Devil Montroy.
Rage rose in his mind like a red mist. He drew his sword and rushed at the earl’s back. He was intent on murder for he had nothing more to live for. As he raised his sword, Montroy turned. For a moment he looked incredulous, then, as Sir Harry hesitated, he drew his sword and thrust it with such force that it sliced through the rich tunic and into flesh. Sir Harry stared at him stupidly as the blade was twisted upwards, slitting him from stomach to chest. Blood spurted and his entrails fell out through the slit in his belly as he tottered a few steps, still intent on killing the monster who had ruined him, but the mist had become black and he was falling…falling into a pit.
Sir Harry lay with his face in the dust of the compound, blood trickling into the dry earth. Montroy’s orders to get rid of this damned fool fell on deaf ears. Sir Harry’s troubles were at an end.
For a moment Montroy looked down contemptuously at the body of the man he had so illused, then he turned away as men jumped to obey his orders. Sir Harry’s own men stood dumbfound. Not one of them had moved to interfere. Montroy glared in their direction, gesturing that they should leave. When they hastened to obey he smiled.
Rhoda Morgan was comely but he would not take Devereaux’s leavings to wife and be mocked. The earl had sworn that she would come to no harm at his hands but Montroy did not believe in such promises. If he had stood in Devereaux’s place it would have amused him to despoil the wench; he did not believe that his enemy would behave differently.
He had lusted after the wench since he first saw her but there were others as fair. However, Devereaux had insulted him and thrown down the gauntlet. He could not be allowed to live after what he had done. Montroy would have his revenge but it must be planned carefully. The Earl Devereaux stood well with Prince Edward and the King. A siege of Craigmoor would be costly and might anger King Henry, who disliked unrest amongst his nobles. Montroy knew that many of the barons in England were dissatisfied with the way things stood. The King spent little time in England, which angered many who thought he gave too much time to his French relatives, but he expected to be obeyed in all things and had interfered in much that was cherished as tradition and rightfully theirs by the barons.
Devereaux’s actions could not go unchallenged. It must be settled either in combat or by the King’s will. Montroy was seething inside. His first thought had been to attack Craigmoor and kill his enemy but perhaps there was another way.
NINE
Simon Malham looked up from his work as the visitor was shown into his tiny cell. The Earl Devereaux was tall and handsome, his blue eyes cold as they swept over his surroundings and came to rest on him.
‘I asked to see the Bishop,’ he said. ‘Why have I been brought here?’
‘The Bishop has gone to a meeting in London, my lord. However, I am dealing
with the business of the missing child, and it is I that wrote to you concerning the matter.’
‘Indeed?’ Robert looked haughty. ‘I would have thought my business deserved more than a lowly cleric.’
‘The Bishop places trust in me, sir. He is a man with many concerns and must delegate work to others or they would simply lie neglected waiting for him to have time to attend them.’
‘Very well. Have you news of the child?’
‘I have sent out messengers, asked questions of the townspeople. I am not certain whether anything has been discovered as yet.’ Simon Malham shuffled some papers in front of him. ‘There are one or two reports of children having arrived in Winchester at about the right time but as yet I am not certain that any of them could be your daughter.’ He caught the look of impatience in the earl’s eyes and hastened to add, ‘However, there is one lead that may help us. I am expecting news any day now.’
‘Tell me where the child may be found and I shall make inquiries myself.’
‘You are anxious for news. Very understandable in the circumstances, but haste will not serve. If the child is here in Winchester we must be certain of our facts before we act. It would be wrong to take the girl from her mother if she is not your child. The woman is the sister of a respectable tradesman. I have set inquiries in hand. She claims that her husband died in the winter of 54 and that she brought her child home – but she was not married when she left her family home. That much is known. She could however have wed while she lived at Malham…’
‘Malham?’ The earl’s gaze narrowed. ‘You are called Malham. Did you come from that part of England?’
‘I was born there as were my parents before me. When they died I was taken in by the monks and brought up almost as one of them.’
‘You have taken holy orders?’
‘I was obliged to, though I do not have the calling.’ Simon hesitated, knowing that his next words might anger the powerful lord. ‘I had no choice but to become what I am – a lowly cleric. Had I a little money I might choose to live in a different way.’
