by Linda Sole
The incident had never been forgotten and when he became earl Robert had given Jonathan the title deeds to land and a small manor house in the county of Northamptonshire, but Jonathan had chosen to remain in his service. The bond between them was so complete that Robert did not once suspect his friend of betraying him. Even had Rhoda not been with child, Robert was certain his friend would never lay a finger on her.
However, he would not trust that upstart Sir Kerrin of Shrewsbury further than he could throw him. He noticed the way the newly-made knight looked at Rhoda, with such naked lust and longing in his eyes that he bared his soul to the world – or at least to Robert’s eyes.
‘Do you agree with me, Robert?’
Robert realised that the prince was waiting for an answer. He had let his thoughts stray once more and hastened to bring them back to the subject in hand.
‘You know my feelings on the matter, sire. I believe that the rebels will be easily dealt with once we have His Majesty’s forces to reinforce our own.’
‘I can only pray that you are right, Robert. My father hath vowed he will not be ruled as his father was before him. He has done his best to make peace with both France and the Pope, but here in England he must be obeyed. Excuse me, I must speak with the Earl of Montroy.’
Robert inclined his head as the prince walked away. His attention was drawn back to the man who had occupied his thoughts earlier.
As yet, he had not seen Rhoda respond to Sir Kerrin’s impertinent looks but he was suspicious of her. Had the upstart been in any other’s service, Robert might have asked that he be sent on a mission to get him away from Dyserth. However, he could not approach Montroy with a request of any kind. His enemy was far worse than the knave who served him. Montroy leered at Rhoda openly and had made unpleasant suggestions to her. She had complained more than once, demanding that Robert should avenge her for the death of her father.
‘I cannot believe that you allow that man to breathe the same air as we do, Robert,’ Rhoda said when she came up to him as the servants prepared the trestles and boards for the evening meal. ‘He took hold of my arm as I came down to the hall and warned me that he had not finished with either of us. From the look in his eyes, I believe that he means to have his revenge on us both.’
‘You should not fear him,’ Robert said, annoyed that she should question him. ‘He is bound by his oath as much as I. If we fight, Edward will have no choice but to send us away, and he needs all his friends about him.’
‘All you talk of is the prince and fighting,’ Rhoda’s eyes flashed with temper as she looked at him. ‘I hardly see you, except when you come to my bed. You spend all your time with the prince.’
‘Have you not heard it said that silence is a woman’s finest ornament? There are times when you would do well to heed the warning, Rhoda.’
‘What do I care for such parables? You have neglected me of late, Robert, and I do not care for it.’
‘You should have expected that when you came with me. I have my duty to the prince. Perhaps you would be better at Craigmoor.’
‘Yes, perhaps I should.’
Rhoda turned and left him. He watched as she walked across the hall. Even though her condition was beginning to show a little, there was hardly a man whose eyes did not follow her. There was something about her, something that aroused men’s lust and made them think of things best left at home in time of war.
Rhoda was making her way towards Jonathan, but, as Robert watched, he saw the upstart move to stand in her way, delaying her. He said something to her in a secretive manner. Robert was not certain but he thought she inclined her head before moving on to join Jonathan. Her smile for him was warm and somehow different from the smiles she gave Robert. He was not sure what was different but he thought she seemed more at ease with his friend, as if Jonathan were her friend – someone she trusted.
Did she not trust her husband? Robert was torn between his desire to keep her here and take her to Deganwy when they moved on to join with King Henry’s forces or whether he should send her home. Melloria would not have given him a moment’s disquiet. She might have begged him to stay with her but if he chose to leave she would have remained at home, as a dutiful wife should.
A picture of Melloria came to his mind. He was struck with a wave of longing and regret so sharp and painful that it made him gasp. For a moment he seemed to see her face and her eyes were reproachful, accusing.
‘Why did you desert me? Why did you leave me at such a time? Why did you let me die alone?’
‘Forgive me. I did not know it would happen. If I could go back and stay to protect you I would. I would die for you…’
Robert hardly knew that he had spoken the words aloud, his thoughts caught up in the torment of terrible pictures that came to his mind more often these days. The scene that haunted him as he lay awake in the darkness – a snowy night and a woman battling with the elements alone. Overtaken by the arrival of the child she carried in her womb, she lay down in the snow and died, her blood turning the crisp whiteness all about her to crimson.
Thrusting the picture from his mind, Robert became aware that Montroy was staring at him. As his enemy realised Robert had become aware of him he smiled in a manner that seemed to mock and challenge him. Placing a hand on his sword hilt, Robert gritted his teeth and sent a look of such hatred at Montroy that his confident smile was wiped from his face.
Montroy was Melloria’s murderer not Robert. He had sent her to her death and destroyed the castle at Devereaux. One day he would suffer a terrible fate in payment for his evil deeds. Jonathan had been wrong to suggest snatching Montroy’s bride. The debt was not paid, could never be paid except by blood. Robert regretted that he had agreed to the plan. He should have besieged Montroy’s fortified manor house and taken it, destroying the building and killing the man. It would have been far better if he had never met Rhoda. She tormented him because his body needed the relief she gave him. Even when he was angry with her, he wanted to lie with her – but she was not and never could be Melloria.
Melloria was his one true love and he would love her until the day he died.
TWENTY EIGHT
Marta stirred the rabbit stew she was making and smiled. She had added herbs from her little garden in the back yard, vegetables fresh from the market and a little salt to the pot, and if the food tasted as good as it looked she would be well pleased with her efforts.
Will would come in soon for his meal. He worked most mornings at his craft and she was amazed by all the beautiful things he produced to sell when he went to market. He had made her a pair of stout boots that would see her through many a day but they were soft and comfortable, fitting her better than any she had ever had before. Mary was also wearing a pair of soft shoes made of red leather, which fascinated her so much that she took them off and nursed them as she would a toy, seeming to think in her childish way that they were too good to wear.
The meal was almost ready. Marta had baked fresh bread that morning, and they would eat their mess of rabbit and herbs from a hollowed-out loaf that folk called a trencher. It might be best if Marta called Will, because she did not want the food to spoil.
Opening the door from the kitchen to the shop, she went through and discovered that Will was not working as she had believed. She frowned, wondering when he had gone out. About to turn back to the kitchen, she halted as someone opened the door and came in.
‘Will…’ Marta faltered as she saw the priest. ‘Father Andrew – is something wrong? Your patron was not displeased with the bench for the church?’
‘No, indeed, he was very happy with it, though I believe he finds it less than comfortable.’ Father Andrew smiled at her. ‘I came to ask if the chest with a carved top and front panel was still here. It was about so big…’ He made a shape with his hands. ‘Your brother asked me a high price for it, too high for my purse. I thought perhaps you might wish to sell it for less?’
‘Do you mean the carved box Todd made for a custo
mer and could not sell?’ Marta looked about the workshop. The chest was nowhere to be seen. She had not seen it for a while but had not taken any notice. Will had bought it from her and might have it in his own room. ‘I sold it to Will Hern – but he might sell it to you if you asked him.’
‘Then I shall return another day,’ the priest said. ‘Good-day, mistress. I trust that you and the child are well?’
‘Yes, I thank you,’ Marta said, feeling an uneasy prickle at the nape of her neck, though she did not know why. It was just something in the way the priest looked at her that made her uncomfortable. ‘I shall tell Will you called and why.’
Father Andrew nodded and went out. Marta returned to the kitchen, frowning as she wondered what had happened to the chest Will had bought from her and where he had gone. He hadn’t said anything about going out to her. Feeling a sudden panic, she went into the little room behind the kitchen, but her fear evaporated as she saw that Will’s things were still there. He hadn’t gone off and left her. The carved chest wasn’t amongst his things, but everything else was there.
Returning to the kitchen, she was about to add a little more water to the pot when she noticed that her mat of woven rushes was sticking up oddly in one place. She pulled the matting away and saw that a stone had come loose in the floor; it had worked up a little and that was what had made the corner lift. Kneeling down to look closer, Marta felt a thrill of excitement as she saw signs of scratches about the stone and suspected that if she tried she could lift it. She was about to fetch something to lever it free when she heard the shop door.
She stood up and pulled the mat into place quickly. When Will came into the kitchen, she was ladling stew into three trenchers.
‘Father Andrew visited while you were gone. I did not know you were going out?’
‘I just went out to buy this.’ Will placed a small packet on the table. ‘It is for you, Marta. To trim your hair.’
Marta stared at him for a moment before unwrapping the twist of coarse cloth. She took out a length of scarlet ribbon, staring at it as if it were something strange and unknown. Will frowned as she laid it back down without taking it out to examine it further.
‘I thought you would like it. Your hair is always falling into your eyes. You could braid it with this ribbon and it would not bother you so much.’
‘It is lovely.’ Marta hesitated, then, ‘You should not waste your money on things like this, Will.’
‘What is money for if not to give pleasure?’
‘It is for putting food on the table and clothes on your back.’
Will grunted but did not argue. ‘What did the priest want? I hope he wasn’t asking for his money back because he won’t get it.’
‘He was asking about the chest Todd made. The one you bought from me. He said he would be interested in buying it from you.’
‘I just bet he would.’ Will scoffed and took up his eating knife to cut into the trencher of bread. ‘He gave us two pounds for the bench and it was probably worth double. I sold the chest for as much at the fair.’
‘You sold it at the fair?’
Marta was shocked. She had imagined that Will intended to keep the box but he had sold it and for a lot more than he had given her. At first she felt resentful that he had not shared his profits with her, but then she remembered all the gifts he had given her: the girdle that was fit for a fine lady, the soft boots that fitted her feet like gloves, Mary’s shoes, and now the ribbons. She could not grumble and the chest was his to do with as he wished.
‘I have been putting money by,’ Will told her with a smile. ‘I took a pair of boots to a customer this morning and he was so pleased that he ordered another. If things continue this way I shall be able to buy my horse and cart sooner than I expected.’
‘And then you will leave I suppose?’
‘You’ve always known that I would leave one day, Marta.’
‘Yes, you told me at the start.’ Marta got up and went to the chest on stand where she kept food and the few mugs and bowls she had. She took out two pewter mugs and poured ale from the jug on the side table, handing one to Will. ‘I wish you well on your journey.’
She drank her ale and finished her meal, clearing the pots away to the side table. Later, she would take them outside and wash them with water she had boiled on the fire. She had washed clothes earlier that morning and left them to dry, but by the look of dark clouds gathering outside it seemed it might rain soon. The clothes must be fetched in immediately.
She went out and had begun to gather the clean linens into a large rush basket when she became aware of Will watching her. She bent to place a shirt on top of the pile. Straightening up, she gasped as she felt his arms go about her waist, and then his mouth was at the nape of her neck, warm and moist. He licked at the sensitive skin beneath her hair, holding it away with one hand; his breath tickled her, sending a shiver right down to her toes. It had been years since a man touched her in this way. As Will’s right hand moved up, caressing her breast over the coarse material of her gown, she gasped. Turning, she looked up at him.
‘What are you about, Will Hern?’
‘You are a comely woman, Marta. You must know how I feel about you?’
‘How should I know?’ Marta asked but in her heart she had known what the gifts and smiles meant. He wanted to lie with her but that did not mean he would stay with her. ‘You don’t feel love for me – not true love?’
‘What is love?’ Will asked, his smile gentle and teasing. ‘I know that you feel good in my arms, Marta. I know that I want to feel your skin close to mine and lose myself in your softness. Is it what you want? I have thought it – but if you refuse me I shall not force you. I have never forced a woman.’
Marta knew there must have been several women in Will’s life. A man as handsome and good-natured as he would not lack for partners. She thought that he could take his pick of country maidens, perhaps fine ladies too when their husband’s back was turned. To think of lying with him was foolish for the consequences might be dire if she were left with a child in her belly and no man or money coming in, and yet his smile was a temptation. There was no doubting that she would find it sweet to lie with him.
‘I cannot stay forever, Marta,’ Will told her, his voice seeming tender and persuasive. ‘But you could come with me when I leave. With a horse and cart we could have a good life on the road together.’
Marta knew it was foolish but his offer had broken her resistance, which had not been strong in the first place. She laughed and pressed herself against him, offering her mouth for his kiss. The feel of his lips on hers and the invasion of his tongue as it explored her mouth set a fire raging inside her. She had never expected to feel like this again, and took his hand, leading him into the little lean-to where she kept pails and a wooden tub for doing her washing.
‘We’ll do it here so that Mary doesn’t see,’ she whispered, kissing him eagerly. ‘Take me standing here against the wall this time – and then I’ll come down to you in the night.’
Will laughed at her eagerness. He pushed her back against the wall, kissing her, his tongue moving over hers as he fumbled at her breasts and then shoved his knee between hers. He lifted her skirts before pulling at the fastenings of his hose, then his hard cock pushed against her thigh as she spread her legs for him. He thrust at her, entering her moist opening with a grunt of satisfaction. One arm went under her legs, lifting them so that they went round his waist and she clung on to him. The new position was better and he was able to go deeper inside her, thrusting wildly as Marta gasped and clung to him, kissing him eagerly. They moaned and grunted in their hurry, resulting in Will spilling himself too soon.
He grinned as he let her go and pulled down her skirts. ‘That will have to do for now, but I’m not letting you off so lightly tonight. I’ve been thinking of this for weeks, woman. I kept thinking of you lying up there in the loft with the child. Sometimes it almost drove me mad but I was waiting for a sign that you were willing
.’
‘If I’m truthful I was willing the first time I laid eyes on you, Will Hern,’ Marta said and laughed. A surge of excitement went through her. She felt young again, all the cares and loneliness of the past few years sloughing from her like the skin of a snake. Perhaps she had lost her mind but Will didn’t have enough money for his horse and cart yet. If she made him happy he might decide to stay with her forever.
TWENTY NINE
Beatrice read the letter that had come in reply to hers to the bishop. He told her that the clerk dealing with her problem had died and that because of other more weighty matters the child had been forgotten.
I assure you that I shall take a personal interest in this matter now. Prince Edward added his entreaties to yours and the earl’s when he was here last autumn. I thought perhaps the earl had given up his search when he married again, but now that you have brought it to my attention once more I shall do what I can to find the child you believe may be your sister’s, if she is in Winchester. As for the matter of the child claimed to be the daughter of Nicholas Malvern I cannot interfere. She may be his child and I do not have time to become involved in a legal wrangle with a man I understand to be wealthy. This should be a matter for the Earl of Devereaux. I suggest you contact him and ask him to investigate. I believe he may be in Wales with the prince…
Beatrice frowned as she read the letter. This was the first she had heard of the earl’s remarriage and it angered her. How could Robert marry so soon after Melloria’s disappearance? Where was the proof of her death? He might be guilty of the crime of bigamy.
Robert had not answered her letter, even though some ten or more days had passed since she wrote to him. Now she had proof of his faithlessness. She was filled with bitter anger at what he had done but knew she was powerless against him. She had chosen this life of her own free will but at that moment she was guilty of wishing she had a powerful husband who would avenge her sister.
