Diamantha looked up at him. “Why do you say that?”
Drake flipped up his visor and scanned the landscape. “Because we were told that the river has been overflowing its banks since last spring,” he said. “This area has evidently been devastated and there has been much robbing and looting because of it.”
The group was following Diamantha at a distance. As her wagon moved down the road, they followed like a herd of cattle following a source of food. She drew them to her with her beauty and health and radiance. In her, they must have seen hope. Perhaps they saw their only salvation. In any case, the group was following, begging her for help.
Cortez could hear the cries, of course, and he turned to see Diamantha looking out from her wagon at the people along the road. The least bit annoyed that she was not seated back in the wagon, sheltered from the outside world, he reined his charger around and thundered back through the column. The charger kicked up mud clods as he reined the excited animal next to the moving wagon.
“Get back under the tarp,” he told her quietly. “We have a few more hours of travel before we reach Stafford.”
Diamantha looked at him seriously. “But these people,” she said, indicating the wailing group. “They’re starving, Cortez. I cannot look into the face of need and ignore it. Isn’t there something we can do for them?”
Cortez shook his head firmly. “We do not have any to spare,” he told her. “If we feed them, my men go hungry. Your daughter goes hungry. Who would you rather have hungry, those children out there or Sophie?”
It was a harsh way of putting it, but it was the truth. Diamantha’s gaze moved over the group of beggars, hearing their sad cries. Particularly, she was looking at the children, skinny little waifs who were filthy and cold. She could see even from a distance that they had pale faces with even paler lips. They were the color of the mists, these children who were so hungry and so desperate. Greatly saddened, she turned back to Cortez.
“But those children…,” she began, knowing he was more than likely going to deny her again. “They are starving. We picked up sacks of oats in Gloucester. Could we not cook a big pot for them to eat? It would be something and it would not drain all of our stores.”
Cortez sighed heavily. “Diamantha, I realize you feel great compassion for them and it is an admirable quality, but we simply cannot spare anything,” he said, trying to be patient with her. He thought pragmatically and she did not. “I would like nothing better than to feed the world’s starving children, but not at the expense of my men and not at the expense of you. Can you understand that?”
She wasn’t happy with his answer so she simply looked away. Cortez, seeing that he had damaged her fragile sensibilities, leaned down in her direction.
“Diamantha?” he said quietly. “Please do not be angry with me. I understand what you are saying, truly I do, but I must make the choice between feeding my men and feeding these people because it will not stop with this group, I promise you. Like mice, once you feed one, the entire nation will come running and soon enough, I will have nothing for our people. Do you understand that?”
She did but she still didn’t agree with him. “We have two kittens, a rabbit, and a fox kit that you happily feed,” she said. “They are fed small apples and other things, and you do not complain. Are you telling me that these animals are worth feeding more than these people are?”
He grunted, hoping they weren’t heading for an argument. Things had been so wonderful the past few days that he was loath to take backward steps in this relationship, but in this case, he had to stand his ground.
“They are tiny little animals that hardly eat anything at all,” he said, his voice low. “Are you truly going to argue with me about this? Do you truly want to give these people our food so we will have nothing?”
She didn’t, but there had to be a way to help. An idea popped into her head. “We will be stopping at your father’s castle tonight, will we not?”
Cortez nodded. “We will.”
“If we need our stores replenished, can we not do it there? Your father should be able to resupply us most adequately if we give these people some of our food.”
He rolled his eyes unhappily. “I cannot depend on that,” he said. “I have no idea what my father will have. If he has nothing, we will be in a good deal of trouble and our quest to reach Falkirk might be seriously delayed. Is that what you want?”
Of course it wasn’t. Reluctantly, she shook her head and let the subject die. Or so Cortez thought. Reaching out, he gently touched her cheek, smiling at her when she looked up at him. With a wink, he turned his charger around and cantered back to the front of the column.
Diamantha, however, wasn’t finished, not in the least. There were children starving just a few feet away from her and she couldn’t sit by and do nothing about it. No matter what Cortez said, she had to do something, however small. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t.
Eyes on Cortez, and on Drake, who happened to be closest to her, she sank back beneath the oiled tarp to hide from view, but the truth was that she was about to do some reconnaissance in the wagon. As Sophie sniffled beside her, she began to dig around in the wagon bed, coming across bags of walnuts, of almonds, of pears, and of little green apples. Heaving the bag of apples into her lap, she opened up the sack and was pleased to note that there were several dozen apples nestled in the bag. It was perfect for her needs.
Pulling a couple of the apples forth, she handed them over to Sophie, who was thrilled with more food for her animals. With the bag in hand, she dragged it along with her across the wagon bed until she was once again just outside of the oiled tarp. Drake was next to the wagon, riding slightly head of her position with his attention on the beggars. Diamantha eyed the big knight for a moment, planning out her covert operation.
“Sir Drake?” she asked politely, pointing off to the east. “Could that possibly be more starving people over there?”
Drake turned his attention away from the beggars, and from her, to gaze off into the distance. As soon as he turned his head, Diamantha grabbed several apples and hurled them towards the beggars. She had good aim because one, two, and then five apples sailed over Drake’s head and into the field beyond as de Winter searched for something on the horizon, something Lady de Bretagne had asked about, that didn’t exist.
But he heard the apples sailing over his head and by the time she launched the fourth and fifth apple, he was looking around to see where the sound had come from. When he looked curiously to Diamantha, sitting near the side of the wagon bed, she was the picture of innocence.
“Did you hear something?” he asked.
Diamantha shook her head. “Only the beggars,” she said evenly. “What did you hear?”
Drake wasn’t sure. He looked around and could see the beggars in the field as they evidently collected something off the ground. He couldn’t see what it was, but suddenly, the beggars were running after the convoy, shouting their pleas. They were holding out their hands and crying for something, something he couldn’t quite make out.
It was odd, truly. Intensely curious, he watched the beggars for a moment but the minute he looked away, towards the front of the column, he heard those strange noises over his head again. This time, he was faster, and he turned towards the starving folk in time to see small projectiles flying through the air. He wasn’t sure what they were or where they were coming from, but he had a suspicion. He returned his attention to Diamantha, who was looking quite innocuous as she sat at the side of the wagon bed. She even smiled at him, brightly, which led him to believe that she was up to no good. No woman smiled that way unless she was trying to hide something.
With a heavy sigh, Drake simply faced forward, listening to projectiles sailing over his head. He turned a blind eye to it, at least for the time being, because he knew the lady was simply trying to do something kind. He also knew she was disobeying her husband, which put him in a very bad spot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it
when she dropped one of the small green apples she had been throwing at the starving peasants. He could hear the beggars, off to his left, as they squealed excitedly over the thrown fruit.
Unfortunately, he had to do something about it. If he didn’t, Cortez would have his head. He took the chance of leaving his post and spurring his charger to the front. He came up behind Cortez and cleared his throat loudly.
“My lord?” he said.
Cortez turned around abruptly, seeing that Drake was right behind him. His brow furrowed. “Why did you leave your post?”
Drake was clearly reluctant to say anything but he knew he didn’t have a choice. “Lady de Bretagne…,” he trailed off for a moment but then started again, stronger this time. “Lady de Bretagne is doing what you told her not to do. You must understand that by telling you, I am damaging any trust I might have with her, but if I do not tell you, then I am assuming responsibility for her actions and risking your wrath. I am in a bad position, either way.”
Cortez’s dark eyes flickered a moment before looking back through the column to the wagons in the middle. As he watched, two small projectiles sailed into the air and out into the field below. The starving people were swarming on whatever it was. Stricken, he pointed to another projectile as it went sailing.
“What in the name of Great Bleeding Jesus is that?” he demanded. “What is she doing?”
Drake watched the man’s irate face. “She is throwing apples to them, I believe,” he said sympathetically. “One of the many bags of apples we have on the provisions wagons.”
“Apples?” Cortez repeated, outraged. “I told her not to feed them. She is deliberately disobeying me.”
Drake put up a hand to stop the man before he went charging back to the wagon, quite possibly to spank his wife. In a small way, perhaps he was saving Cortez’s marriage because, as new as it was, it certainly couldn’t take a husbandly beating.
“My lord, if you please,” he said quickly, “as you know, my mother runs a great charity, one of the biggest in all of England. As a young lad, I was raised in the halls of The House of Hope, so I well understand the conviction and self-sacrifice it takes to impart benefits to the poor. My father often chided my mother about it, but the fact remained that he admired her a great deal for her selfless and compassionate nature. Don’t you see? The world needs people like my mother and Lady de Bretagne, for they see beyond the poverty to the human need beneath. Your wife will not give away all of our food, as you asked, but one bag of apples… to us, it is a small thing, but to those people, it is their life right now. Isn’t this the England you fight for? All people, not just the rich? We are all God’s creatures, after all.”
Cortez gave Drake a rather wry expression before rolling his eyes, perhaps with some defeat. “Who taught you that, de Winter?” he wanted to know. “Your mother? She made a fine sap out of you.”
Drake grinned. “Mayhap she did,” he said. “But I understand the compassion your wife is demonstrating. Mayhap you should try to as well.”
Cortez looked over Drake’s shoulder, watching the last few apples fly into the air, into the hands of those who would look upon it as a gift from God. Much of what Drake said held true. The man was right, in many aspects, and the anger Cortez had been feeling vanished in a puff, much like the mist around them that was disappearing into the air. It vaporized and blew away. De Winter had wisdom about him, no doubt about it. After a moment, Cortez simply shook his head and jabbed a big finger at him.
“No more apples for you for the rest of this journey,” he told him. “You just fed all of those Children of God your share of the fruit.”
Drake fought of a grin. “Gladly, my lord. They were sour, anyway.”
With that, he reined is horse around, leaving Cortez at the head of the column struggling not to smile. Compassionate wife, indeed. He still had much to learn about her, even her rebellious nature, which he frankly found rather charming. The woman had spirit and, in spite of everything, he rather liked it.
When Drake resumed his position next to the provisions wagon, Diamantha was finished throwing apples to the peasants and thanking God that de Winter had left his post and allowed her to dispense of the fruit as best she could. Oblivious to the fact that both Drake and Cortez knew of her own private rebellion, she settled back in the wagon and took her daughter in her arms again, making herself comfortable for the long ride ahead.
She couldn’t do anything for those girls in Gloucester, but for the starving children of Stafford, she was able to contribute just a little and it gave her a satisfying moment in a trip that hadn’t been full of many. In a trip that had been filled with it share of dark and light so far, Diamantha had been able to make a little difference in a few lives.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Coven Castle
Five miles northwest of Stafford
De Bretagne’s party arrived at Coven Castle well after sunset, when the land was nearly pitch-black because of the sliver moon.
Diamantha had never seen darkness like this. It was so dark that one could literally not see the hand in front of their face. Diamantha sat in the wagon with Sophie sleeping against her, both of them bundled up against the cold. The night was clear in direct contrast from the misty, wet morning, and there were a million stars strewn across the sky. It was a quiet night, too, the only sounds coming from an occasional night bird as the column made its way down the dark and lonely road.
About an hour into the trek from the point they had taken the western road from Stafford, a faint glow could be seen in the distance, a soft point of light against the inky blackness of night. Weary from the travel and lulled by the rocking of the wagon, Diamantha had placed her head back against the cushions with Sophie snuggled against her chest, and she had fallen asleep to the night sounds around her.
But her slumber soon ended when shouts could be heard, taken up by the soldiers. There were also shouts in the distance, shouts from Coven Castle as Cortez’s party drew near. Cortez had sent two soldiers as messengers on ahead, so his father was expecting them. Men rode out from the castle to greet them, men bearing torches, and soon there were flickers of light everywhere, splashed against the blackness of the night.
Diamantha awoke to the shouts but Sophie did not, and she lay there with her arms around her daughter, listening to the chatter and seeing flickers of torches all around. The wagon picked up pace and soon the road became rather bumpy as she braced herself so she wouldn’t bounce around. The oiled tarp that protected her from the rain also prevented her from seeing much of what was going on around her, but she saw clearly when they entered through a low, dark gatehouse and spilled out into a bailey. There were men all around with torches and as she tried to sit up, the oiled tarp was pulled back and Cortez appeared. He smiled wearily at her.
“We have arrived,” he said, holding out his arms. “Give me Sophie, sweetheart.”
Diamantha did, and Cortez handed her over to the waiting Merlin. Then Cortez reached into the wagon and pulled Diamantha out, holding her steady as she gained her footing after the long ride. Fearful of more hungry peasants, they had never stopped to rest and the nooning meal had been taken as they traveled. Now, they had stopped, and Diamantha was desperate to stretch her numb legs.
“Are you well enough?” Cortez asked her as she rubbed at her stiff legs.
Diamantha nodded. “I am,” she said, sighing wearily as her gazed moved over the torch-lit bailey. “So this is Coven Castle? Is this where you were born?”
Cortez shook his head. “I was born in London at the home of my mother’s uncle,” he said. “Coven Castle is from my father’s side of the family. Andres was born here, however.”
As he tried to move her away from the wagon, she balked until he reached in and collected the cage with the animals in it. Diamantha clutched the cage as they made their way across the dark, rocky bailey towards the great hall on the north side of the complex.
/> Coven Castle had been built right after the Conquest by Sir Giles de Bretagne, using foundations from an old Roman fort upon which to construct his castle. Since the land around it was very flat for the most part, the Romans had built a mound and planted a watchtower atop it. The mound still remained but instead of a watchtower on the top, there was a box-shaped keep with three floors to it. There was one room on each floor, the top floor being Gorsedd de Bretagne’s chamber.
Massive curtain walls surrounded the mound and keep, with a big gatehouse at the entry. The bailey, a flat piece of land that wasn’t particularly large, housed a great hall and a secondary structure that held apartments on the top floor and a stable beneath it. There were a few outbuildings, too, mostly for horses and trades, and all of it crammed into a rather small space.
It was a very busy space now with Cortez’s party settling down in the bailey. Horses were being tended and the wagons were being taken over to one of the outbuildings to be housed for the night. Holding the cage in her arms, Diamantha allowed Cortez to escort her towards the great hall but she kept glancing over her shoulder at Merlin, carrying the sleeping Sophie. As they neared the hall, a man in leather and furs emerged, throwing open his arms when he saw Cortez.
“My son!” he roared, moving swiftly for Cortez and throwing the man in a great embrace. He hugged him tightly before kissing his cheek. “Cortez, my shining star. I have missed you so very much.”
Cortez was grinning at his father, a man he resembled a good deal. “Father,” he said, as if reaffirming the man and the bonds. “You’ve not changed, not one bit.”
Gorsedd laughed loudly. “You have,” he said. “You have gotten older and….”
Suddenly, his gaze fell on Diamantha and he stopped himself mid-sentence. His eyes widened and his mouth seemed to pop open in surprise. Cortez, seeing where his father’s attention lie, grasped Diamantha’s hand and pulled her forward.
“Father,” he said with satisfaction in his voice. “This is my wife, Lady Diamantha Edlington de Bretagne. I have brought her to meet you.”
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