by Linda Sole
‘My father has been wrestling with unfair demands since he became king. As far as Montroy is concerned, he has not as yet shown his disloyalty,’ the prince replied. ‘He went to Gascony with my message and he brings my father’s answer. I must trust him until I find him false, Robert.’ Edward’s gaze was stern. ‘I know and understand your quarrel with him – but you stole his bride and you have married her. The balance has been redressed. You must put your anger behind you, at least for the moment. We need all our nobles, Robert. We cannot afford to antagonise Montroy until this business is over. Afterwards, well, you know you have my favour.’
Robert nodded his understanding. The King trod an uneasy path. In 1208 the Pope had laid England under an interdict because of King John’s behaviour, arousing resentment and anger amongst the barons. In return John had threatened to confiscate church property which had led to more bad feeling on all side. A fruitless campaign in France had brought things to a head in 1213 and the barons forced reform on him in the form of Magna Charta. The resulting war had ended only with John’s death and his son’s coronation.
‘I understand, my prince. You need the loyalty of the barons who support you and His Majesty for there are too many rebels. I shall do nothing to give Montroy reason to turn on you. I will not seek vengeance for the time being but one day…’
‘One day you may challenge him to a fight to the death and I shall not deny you my blessing.’
Robert smiled grimly. He had given his word to the prince and he must abide by it for they could not afford to quarrel amongst themselves before the Welsh rebellion had been subdued.
However, when he saw the leer on Montroy’s face as he noticed and recognised Rhoda, it took all Robert’s strength of will not to challenge the man to a fight immediately. Gritting his teeth, he walked towards his wife, taking the hand she offered and raising it to his lips. He kissed it and smiled, asking how she fared.
‘It has been a long winter since you left me, my lord,’ she said and gazed eagerly up at him. ‘I am happy to see you returned and the prince with you – though I like not to see Montroy amongst us. He murdered my father and I would wish him dead.’
‘You are not alone in your wish, Rhoda. I would challenge him to a duel if it were not that the prince needs him and his men. I held back at Winchester for the same reason and I am bound by my promise not to quarrel with him until this rebellion is subdued.’
‘I heard there was fighting. You were not hurt?’ Her eyes met his, seeming anxious. Robert was not displeased by her concern. ‘I worried for you, my lord.’
‘I did not take part in any of the skirmishes for I had other business,’ he told her. ‘As yet there have been no true battles; they are yet to come and once the King arrives we shall sweep these rebellious lords before us. It is time they learned their lessons.’
‘Will the King come here?’
‘I believe he means to set up his headquarters at Deganwy,’ Robert told her. ‘We await news of his coming and then we may ride to meet him there. Next time I shall take you with me – if you are well enough to travel?’
‘I can still ride, though I must go slowly.’
‘We shall arrange a litter for you,’ Robert said. ‘I must consult with a physician for I would do nothing to harm the child.’
‘I am quite well now,’ Rhoda assured him. ‘I…’ She broke off and colour rushed into her cheeks.
Robert followed her gaze and saw that a young knight was staring at them. He frowned because he vaguely recognised the man, though he could not place him immediately. When he did, he felt a surge of annoyance. It was the squire who had helped him beat off the vagrants that day as he rode from the convent of Saint Innocent. He had offered the man service but after a few days he had ridden away. From the colours he was wearing it seemed as if he had taken service with Montroy – and it seemed he had received his spurs, perhaps from the King when the knave accompanied his lord to Gascony.
Had the squire stayed with him, Robert would have seen to his preferment but now he was angered. Why had the man left his employ so suddenly – and why did he stare at Rhoda in that way?
‘Do you know that man?’ he asked sternly.
Rhoda hesitated, then inclined her head. ‘He is a distant kinsman of my father. He served with us for a while but…my father sent him away because…’ she broke off and shook her head. ‘It does not matter. My father thought him impertinent but it was months ago.’
‘I imagine I can guess.’ Robert glared at the upstart. ‘Stay clear of him, Rhoda. If he dares to accost you tell me. I have made no promise to the prince concerning that rogue.’
Rhoda’s cheeks were warm. Kerrin was staring at her in such a way! She thought he must hate her, and felt as if the lash of a whip had stung her flesh. Seeing him here so unexpectedly made her uneasy, because if he told Robert that he had kissed and fondled her in the summer grass, her husband would send her to the nunnery. From Kerrin’s dress and his new air of confidence, she thought that he had been knighted. Her heart did a somersault and she felt remorse and regret swathe through her. If only she had waited. If she had refused to marry the earl and run away with Kerrin perhaps her life would have been happier.
Rhoda had jewels and beautiful clothes. She was admired and respected as the wife of the Earl of Devereaux, and she was bearing his child – yet the sight of Kerrin had made her realise something was missing from her world. Robert was generous to her and she knew that he still wanted her but he did not love her. Kerrin had loved her once. She keened the loss of the admiration that had used to shine from his eyes, and she wanted him to look at her that way again.
Aware that Robert was watching her, she dropped her gaze. His threat had been clear enough. If he suspected that there had been something between them he would not hesitate to challenge and kill Kerrin. She did not want that to happen. It would break her heart if her husband killed the man she had cared for deeply, even though she had not truly realised it when he was with her.
She must not let Robert see she was affected by Kerrin’s presence here in the castle, but she must and would speak to Kerrin alone when the chance came her way. Turning to her husband, she smiled at him, gazing into his eyes.
‘Will you come to me this night?’ she whispered. ‘I have missed you so much…so much…’
‘Yes, I shall come to you,’ he replied and the shadows left his face. ‘I have missed you too, Rhoda.’
TWENTY THREE
‘I told you this was a good idea,’ Will said as he helped Marta up to the driving board behind the horse he had hired for the day. Father Andrew’s bench was on the cart behind them, carefully wrapped in a tarpaulin in case it should start to rain before they reached Saint Mathew in the Wold, though for the moment there was not a hint of it. The sky was blue and the clouds light and fluffy, chasing across the sky in the breeze which made it cool despite the brightness of the day.
Marta was well wrapped up in shawls with a thick cloak over the top and Mary had several shawls and a blanket round her shoulders. Will had just his leather jerkin over his tunic and hose, but he seemed not to feel the cold.
Marta had seen and approved the work he had done to finish the bench. His carving was good, though perhaps not quite as clever or defined as Todd’s had been. However, only a discerning eye would notice the difference unless they looked hard. She felt confident that Father Andrew would pay them the money he had promised when they delivered the bench to him. He had promised to pay for the hire of the cart in addition to the two pounds for the bench.
His generosity made Marta wonder how much he had agreed with Todd. She wondered if they were being cheated but it still seemed such a lot of money to her that she would not have dreamed of questioning the priest in case he changed his mind and refused to pay.
‘A penny for your thoughts?’
Marta turned her head to look at Will as he drove the horse and cart. He was so confident and it seemed he could turn his hand to anything. She knew tha
t she was lucky he had called the morning he saw the marriage chest and, despite the small incident, when he tied Mary’s ankle, she still liked him a lot. The fact that the weather was getting better and the unmistakable signs of spring had started to appear, made her anxious, because Will had told her that he might move on when the weather was warmer. She knew that he seldom stayed in one place long, and she thought that she would miss him.
Mary would miss him too. She was sitting between them on the driving board, but her small body pressed up against his strong thigh and Marta knew she liked being with him. It almost seemed as if she had accepted him in Todd’s place, hardly knowing or realising that there was a difference.
Marta wished it was as easy for her. Todd had been her brother. She had felt comfortable with him but there had been little affection. He was generous enough in his way, though if he had earned as much money as she now suspected, he had given her less than he might. She could not help wondering if there was more money hidden in the house somewhere, but although she had tried looking in a few places she had not found even one penny. Perhaps all the money was in the bag Todd had taken. Besides, for the moment she had no need of it. Will paid her rent and she had not touched the silver pennies he had given her for the marriage chest.
It would soon go once he left them to travel the roads up and down the country once more. Marta dreaded the thought of the next winter if she were left alone with the child again. She had tried to find work several times in the past week, offering to wash clothes and scrub floors, but women slammed the door in her face and men glared at her, spitting at her and raising their fists if she tried to argue her case. She had decided it was useless to ask.
For the moment she was content as she was, cooking and cleaning, washing Will’s clothes as well as her own and Mary’s. It was enough to keep her busy and she did not need more money, but if Will went on his travels she would have to think again. It was true that they had a roof over their heads but if there were no wood for the fire and no food it was foolish to cling to the house. Perhaps she could get money for it. The walls were sturdy, built by her father as a young man, but she was not certain of her rights. Did Todd own it or did she now that he had gone? Besides, who would buy the house of a murderer? Judging by the way folk looked at her no one would give her anything even if she tried to sell it. She might have to think of moving away to look for work, though who would take on a woman with a small child she did not know.
Once or twice she had wondered if she would be better to approach the Earl Devereaux. If she had known where to find him, she might have told him the story of Mary’s birth, but she did not dare to ask questions concerning his whereabouts. Besides, in her heart she did not wish to part with the child she thought of as her own.
What she truly wanted was for Will to stay with them. She turned her head and smiled at him as they left the city behind, the cart trundling along a road that was rutted and well used by wagons entering and leaving Winchester. Trees and bushes were showing a hint of green after the winter and in the fields a few lambs clustered about the ewes. The fine houses of the city had been left behind and now they passed only barns, small hovels of one storey with thatched roofs, shuttered windows and dung-plastered walls, and the occasional farm built of solid grey stone.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, lifting her face to the sky. ‘It is a rare treat to be out on such a day.’
‘Aye, travelling is good when the weather is pleasant, especially if you have the luxury of a horse and cart. There is much to see in the world: great cathedrals, beautiful things beyond your imagining, Marta. Three years since I was in France. I visited the Sainte Chapelle in Paris. It was built by King Henry’s brother-in-law St Louis and is magnificent. I have heard it said our king loves beautiful things. He is generous if a man pleases him. The clerks of King’s Chapel are paid twenty-five silver shillings to sing Christus Vincit, which they do perhaps three times a year. Think of that, Marta. Five and twenty shillings for singing…’
Marta stared at him, wonder in her face. She had never owned such a vast sum. ‘How do you know these things? I have never met anyone who has seen and knows so much.’
‘It comes from travelling,’ he told her, eyes gleaming. ‘A man must see the world for himself or his soul will lie forever in the gutter. Know thyself – that wise saying was inscribed on the Temple of Apollo. If you would know yourself, then you must first know what happens around you. Travelling is the way to learn, Marta. If I earn enough from my goods I’ll mebbe buy a horse and cart before I move on.’
‘I thought you might stay a bit longer,’ Marta said hopefully. ‘If it is saving your money for a cart you’re after, you could earn enough by the spring of next year to buy whatever you need.’
‘I might,’ Will agreed. ‘I did well my first day at the market and sold almost everything I offered. I’ve an idea what the folk of Winchester need now and I’ll be making some special orders starting tomorrow. I’ve enough work here to keep me busy until the summer at least. After that…well, we shall see.’
Marta’s heart lifted. It looked as if he might stay for a few months longer…
*
Father Andrew was pleased with his bench and paid Will the money he had promised with such eagerness that Marta was almost certain he had taken them for fools. However, she pocketed her share of the money and said nothing. If Todd had finished the bench and delivered it before he ran off, she might not have seen a penny of it. Thoughts of all the money her brother must have earned over the years nagged at the back of Marta’s mind. She was entitled to some of the profits of the business, for it had belonged to her parents and surely something of their goods should have come to her. She made up her mind that the next time Will was at the market she would make a thorough search of the house.
However, it was too nice a day to dwell on the rights and wrongs of what her brother had done. After they had delivered the bench to Saint Matthew in the Wold, which was no more than a hamlet of some half a dozen cottages clustered about the church and a fine manor house built on a hill overlooking the stream, they stopped to eat the pasties Marta had packed. It was pleasant to sit idly for once and watch Mary as she ran about the meadow, free to explore and play as she wished. Marta thought of the games she had played when she was young; hoodman blind and ring a roses, throwing stones at a dancing bear, going a-maying, nutting in the autumn and dancing in the summer meadows. Mary had never had a chance to play or meet other children. Perhaps it was not fair to keep her tied to the house.
‘Mary is enjoying her day,’ Marta observed as Will drank deeply of the ale she had brought for the journey. ‘She has never been in the countryside before. In the city I keep a tight hold on her for fear she should run under the wheels of a cart, but here she is free to do as she pleases.’
‘Travelling the roads is a good life,’ Will said and a wistful look entered his eyes. ‘There’s nothing like freedom, Marta. The sun on your back and the wind in your face, ever changing scenery and food for the taking in the hedgerow and the woods. A travelling man need never starve if he is handy with a trap or a bow and arrow.’
‘I’ve travelled the roads in the past,’ Marta said, her thoughts taking her back to a time when she was happy. ‘’Tis sweet enough when the weather is warm but in winter it can be a hard life.’
‘The trick is to save sufficient silver to stay in lodgings through the winter, but when the cold winds are gone and there’s warm sun shining both sides of the hedges a man gets itchy feet.’
‘I knew a man like you once.’ Marta’s eyes were filled with memories. ‘My Eric could charm the birds from the trees, and he charmed me into running off with him. We had some good times until he died of a terrible fever.’
‘I’m sorry to hear your man died.’ Will’s merry blue eyes lost some of their sparkle as he studied her face. ‘A man may die whether he travel or stay in one place, but at least if he has seen towns and cities and been to foreign lands, he can die at peace w
ith himself.’
‘Have you been often to foreign lands? Eric spoke of travelling to Italy or France but we never had enough money saved to take passage on a ship.’
‘Money is the key to all things,’ Will looked speculative. ‘If we had enough money we could buy a horse and cart of our own. We could take the child and travel to the fairs up and down the country – and then we could go to Italy or even Spain. We might sell things to the pilgrims. Many folk lose their possessions on a long pilgrimage and are pleased to buy more. Especially if they contain holy relics.’
‘Where would we find holy relics?’
‘It is easy enough to find a sliver of wood and sell it as a relic of the Cross. If you tell a good story folk will believe you.’
‘But if it is not truly from the Cross it will have no special power to heal and you have taken a poor man’s money under false pretences.’
‘If they believe the relic to be a true one it may work miracles. Do you really believe in statues that weep or in miracles that heal the blind or the sick, simply because the afflicted worship at a shrine?’
‘I don’t know.’ Marta was shocked that he should speak so lightly of deceiving folk in such a way. ‘I’ve known a man who can heal those others would leave to die. I’ve seen things that I feared.’
‘Where did you see this healer?’
‘It was in the north where I lived for a while. I was close to death when Nicholas Malvern took me in but he saved me – and he saved others. I think he may have used sorcery to heal. He kept fearful things in jars in his private rooms.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Bits of dead people.’ Marta crossed herself hastily. ‘I was frightened to go near those rooms. Some folk said that he had the spirits of the dead trapped in his jars.’
Will threw back his head and laughed. ‘The man is an apothecary and interested in understanding how the body works. There is naught to fear in what he does. I have met men like him and I know their cures are better than many a physician’s.’
