Wicked

by Jill Barnett

  “The world is seldom fair or right.”

  She did not say much more and her crying did not last much longer. She quieted soon, then sniffed and took a deep breath; it had an exhausted sound.

  She should be asleep, he thought. And before, he might have insisted she do so. But for some reason he could not explain, he chose not to try to force her back to bed now. He just sat on those stairs and held her to him, listened to her breath and rubbed his hand slowly over her back and neck, then cupped her head gently as she leaned it against his shoulder, because for some reason it felt as if her head belonged there.

  “It all seems so very senseless,” she whispered.

  “I’ve seen senseless death over and over, Sofia. Every time it happens, you wonder how there can possibly be a reason for it.” He paused, tightening his arms around her as she settled more comfortably against him. Her breathing was slowing and becoming even, the breathing pattern of one who was almost asleep. He rested his chin on the top of her head as he leaned back against the stair railing, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes. “At some point,” he said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “At some point, you finally understand that perhaps there is no reason at all.”

  A few moments later they were both asleep.

  By midday they rode inside the massive gates of Camrose, through the outer and inner baileys and near the forebuilding of the keep.

  Tobin dismounted. He reached up and lifted Sofia down, steadied her with his hand on her elbow, then he cast a quick glance at Parcin and Walter. His two men had been so good with the small twin girls, treating them as if they might break, talking softly to them, showing them hawks and harts and rabbits as they rode along. While watching the girls talking to his men, Tobin was reminded once again of the strength of children, and the versatility of his men. Having seen these men in war, seen the courage and strength and valor with which they fought, it would seem unbelievable that those two warriors could be as gentle as they were with those little girls.

  Each man handed down a twin, and the girls stood there, their small faces too solemn, their eyes darting left and right the way a small animal did when it was cornered.

  “Come, Sofia. You and I shall take the children inside.” Tobin and Sofia each took the hand of a child and they turned and walked together up the steps of Camrose.

  The front door opened with sudden force and Merrick came out. “Tobin!” Merrick grasped him by the shoulders and gave him a quick shake. ’Tis good to see you, my friend.” Merrick took a step back and his gaze flicked to Sofia.

  “Lady Sofia, welcome.” Merrick gave Sofia a long look, but wisely kept quiet as she curtsied to him, still clad in her braies and tunic and her shorn hair. “Come inside. The Queen is in the solar with Clio. She is most anxious to see you, as is the King.”

  Sofia stiffened.

  Merrick must have caught her reaction because he added, “As soon as he hears you are here.”

  Sofia said nothing, but she gave a small sigh of relief.

  Merrick looked at the children, so Tobin said to them, “This is Earl Merrick. He is the lord of this castle and our good friend.”

  The children stood frozen, staring up at the earl.

  Sofia added, “He is kind, girls, and will not harm you. I swear.”

  Merrick cast Tobin a knowing glance. He looked down at the girls, then immediately squatted down so he was eye level with them. “What have we here, Sir Tobin?” He looked back and forth between them. “They are two small and brave warriors, I’ll wager.”

  The girls looked at each other, then Maude said in a clear voice, “We are not warriors, milord. We are sisters.”

  Merrick feigned surprise, then looked from one to the other, frowning and acting silly and confused.

  It seemed to Tobin that fatherhood and his lady wife had done wonders for Merrick de Beaucourt.

  Merrick rubbed his chin with one hand. “Sisters?” He frowned and then pretended to look closer and from one to the other. “Aye, I can see the resemblance now. I do not know how I could have missed it.”

  The girls were not identical but their faces were similar and their coloring was the same.

  “You were not paying attention,” Maude told him, which made Merrick laugh.

  “Aye, little one. I swear to you that I shall pay more attention in the future.”

  Maude actually smiled at him, the first smile Tobin had seen from either child.

  Tildie tapped him gently on the arm, clearly wanting to be included.

  He turned to her.

  “We are twins,” she told him.

  “Twins? You are not twins!”

  The girls nodded.

  “Aye. We are,” Maude said.

  “Well, Sir Tobin!” Merrick said with a laugh as he looked up. “What say you to that? Camrose is the most fortunate of all castles, for we shall have two sets of twins here this day. Your squire is with his brother as we speak. Surely Old Gladdys would rant and rave and dance around one of her many bonfires chanting that such is a sign of good fortune.”

  “Most fortunate,” Tobin agreed.

  Merrick glanced back and forth between the little girls. “Wait till my Lady Clio hears of you two. My wife’s two favorite people are twins. Do you know Sir Tobin’s squire?”

  The girls shook their heads.

  “Well, I trust you shall soon. He too is a twin and his brother is here at Camrose.” He rested his arms on his bent knees. “Now tell me, who is who?”

  “She is Maude.” Tildie tapped her thumb on her small bony chest. “And I am Matilda, but do not call me that, for I forget to answer.” She gave Merrick the most serious of looks. “I am truly called Tildie.”

  “Well, Maude and Tildie,” Merrick said with emphasis on the little girl’s name, “Lady Clio will be much pleased to meet both of you.” He leaned closer as if he were telling them a secret. “She keeps telling me I am not hearty, you know, because we have only one babe at a time. But then she also complains that I am not eating enough sweets, so I can give her a daughter. She does not wish to be the only woman in the family. All three of our children are lads. Not beautiful little girls like you two.” He straightened to his full height.

  The little girls looked at each other, exchanged some kind of intimate look, then stood there with their eyes only on Merrick, who had just won their hearts with his attention and charm.

  “Let us take them upstairs, then you and I shall speak alone,” Merrick said to Tobin.

  Tobin nodded, but gestured for them to step aside for a moment. “I should speak to the King before he sees Sofia.”

  Merrick gave a slight nod, then turned back and held out his hands to the girls. “Come along, my young ladies. We shall go to the solar, where you shall see the Queen.” He looked down at the little girls. “Have you ever seen a queen?”

  “Aye,” Maude nodded. “We saw her pass by in a coach once. I even saw her face, but Tildie missed it.”

  “I sneezed,” Tildie told him, sliding her hand in his.

  “Well, come along, you two. I think you should see the Queen up close. I shall introduce you myself.” Merrick began walking toward the solar, his steps slow and smaller to accommodate the girls’.

  “The Queen.” Maude leaned in front of Merrick and looked at her sister as they walked up the stairs to the quarters above the hall. She whispered loudly, “Tildie! We are going to meet the Queen!”

  “Aye, and I shall not sneeze this time.”

  Tobin slid his arm around Sofia as they both moved forward, but when they reached the stone stairs, he grasped her elbow and looked down at her for a quick glimpse.

  She felt smaller to him, as if the life in her had melted away. Perhaps he felt that way because she was being so much quieter. Perhaps because of what she had said the night before. Or perhaps because of what she had not said.

  At the top of the steps they turned and there was Lady Clio. She looked at the children, then at Sofia and Tobin.
She rushed to Sofia. “Thank God, you are safe.” She hugged her and Sofia murmured Clio’s name. Clio released her.

  She gave Tobin a kiss of greeting on each cheek. “I have missed seeing you, Tobin.” Then she stepped back and looked at the girls.

  “Clio. Look here at who I have brought. This is Maude and this is Tildie,” Merrick told her.

  Lady Clio bent down and smiled at them. “Hallo, Maude. Hallo, Tildie.”

  They girls curtsied and murmured shy hallos. Then Maude said, “We are twins.”

  “I can see that you are,” Clio said.

  Tildie frowned. “Earl Merrick could not.”

  “But I see that you are the same age and you have to be sisters. Besides which, I know twins when I see them. Even if they do not look exactly alike.”

  “See, Tildie? She pays attention,” Maude said to her sister.

  Merrick shook his head and laughed heartily. “I promised I would take them to see the Queen.” He gave his wife a wink.

  “Oh, what a fine thing for them. I shall wait here and then as soon as they have met the Queen, we shall take them to the kitchens and see if we can find a sweet. I believe the cook is making pies this morn. With plums.” She turned to the girls again and bent down. “Would you like plum pies?”

  The girls nodded shyly.

  “Afterwards we can visit my little boys. They are napping now. Edward is the eldest. He is three and into everything troublesome.”

  “Like his mother,” Merrick said under his breath.

  Clio ignored him and continued. “Next is Roger. He is not quite two, and the new babe, little William. He was christened two days ago. Would you two like to meet our sons?”

  “Aye.” Both girls nodded enthusiastically. Then Tildie took a step toward Clio and bravely said, “When I meet the Queen, I shall not sneeze.”

  “Good.” Clio nodded as if she understood perfectly, then straightened and gave a small puzzled shrug to the adults. She looked to Merrick with a smile. “Eleanor is in the solar, love.”

  Clio turned to back Sofia. “You should go, too. She has been most anxious to see you.” Clio gave a quick nod at the thick doors near the end of a narrow hall lined with yellow beeswax candles in iron sconces that gave off a bright and flickering warm light. “Let Merrick take the girls in first, and then you can be alone with her.”

  Tobin looked down because Sofia’s hand tightened on his as she give Clio a weak nod. Sofia’s face was pale and wan. She looked as if she were going to be ill. She took a deep breath, looked up at him and said, “I must see Eleanor.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he told her.

  Together they followed Merrick and the twins down the candlelit hallway to the room where the Queen of England was waiting.

  Chapter 20

  Sofia did not know what to expect when she entered the solar after Merrick and Clio took the twins away. She knew Tobin had sent men ahead with news that she was found safe, and with some of the news of what had happened on the road. However, she did not know exactly how much anyone knew.

  The Queen stood near a mullioned window, her back to the door and her pale hand resting on the back of a deep scarlet tufted chair with a tapestry covered footstool sitting in front of it. The Poleaxes were sitting on her left, at a nearby tapestry frame, stitching and speaking quietly with their heads pressed together; they looked like a two-headed monster from the Greek myths.

  Eleanor turned, then, and looked at Sofia.

  There was nothing but a long, drawn out silence. She then shifted her gaze over Sofie’s shoulder. “Sir Tobin,” she said quietly.

  The Poleaxes whipped their heads around and stared at Sofia, the expressions on their faces telling exactly what they thought; they looked at her as if she was a martyr involved in a lost cause.

  “You have brought Sofia back safely, Tobin,” Eleanor continued. “I thank you.”

  He gave her a slight bow. “My pleasure.”

  Sofia knew she was not his pleasure, but his problem.

  “I would like to speak to Sofia alone.”

  Tobin placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze, then bowed and left.

  The Queen turned to her ladies and said, “Leave us.”

  The Poleaxes stood, gathered their skirts and marched toward the door, where Sofia stood.

  They were whispering as they came toward her.

  “We should have bled her,” Jehane was saying in a harsh whisper. “Then she would not have had the strength to run off like she did.”

  “Aye, ’tis true, Jehane.” Mavis walked past Sofia, muttering, “We have learnt a great lesson. We shall not give in to her whims again.”

  An instant later the door to the solar closed with a sharp click.

  Eleanor just stood there, her eyes on Sofia.

  There was a long pause of silence.

  The Queen shook her head. “You foolish, foolish girl.” Her voice was raspy and emotional, then she opened her arms.

  Sofia ran into them and buried her head in Eleanor’s soft neck, where there was that old familiar scent of cinnamon and anise, of safety and of home. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I am so very sorry.”

  Eleanor patted her back. “I would say that you are sorry, child. If what I have been told happened to your companions is true.”

  “It was horrible, so horrible,” Sofia admitted for the Queen’s ears alone.

  Eleanor waited for a moment, then took a deep breath. Sofia could feel the small shudder of emotion. After a moment, she gripped Sofia’s shoulders and took a step away from her. “There. Let me look at you.” She stared at Sofia’s head for the longest time, then frowned. “Good God . . . That hair is horrid!”

  Sofia did not know if she wanted to laugh or cry. All she knew was that she was so very glad to see her Eleanor.

  “Turn around, child.”

  Sofia chewed her lower lip and turned slowly.

  The Queen stood there not saying anything, just studying her for what seemed like forever. “I shall pray that your hair will grow quickly.”

  “Aye,” she said quietly.

  “Wherever did you get those clothes?”

  “From the rag picker’s cart.”

  “It looks like it,” the Queen said. “I have some garments you can change into before you see Edward.”

  Sofia groaned and sagged so that it felt as if she almost folded in half.

  “You have gone and truly done it this time, Sofia. Edward is furious. I do not believe I can plead for you. He will listen to me any longer. If I were him that I would not listen to me.”

  Sofia stared at the toes of her leather boots, feeling sorry and guilty. She had not wanted to let Eleanor down, but the Queen could not understand what it was truly like for her. Eleanor was the Queen of England, and as such men would always defer to her, if for no other reason than Edward demanded it. Sofia was not a queen. Sofia was a pawn.

  “Truthfully,” Eleanor continued. “This latest deed was such folly that I do not know if you deserve my support. You have damaged my faith and my trust in you. I will not even start on how Edward feels and believe me I know, for he has ranted into my ear every single night since you disappeared.”

  Sofia winced at that comment.

  “I have always believed that you are spirited. Spirit is a not a bad thing for a woman to have, Sofia. But until you did this, I never thought you were an idiot.”

  It hurt Sofia to hear that. It hurt her badly. She did make a mistake. She looked at Eleanor, whom she respected. “I have made some wrong choices.”

  “Perhaps you should ask yourself why.” Eleanor watched her closely.

  Why? Perhaps she did not want to know why she did what she did. Silent tears flowed over the rims of her eyes and her vision was blurred. Eleanor’s face became nothing but a pale oval in a sea of tears, tears she did not want to shed but could not help it.

  Eleanor closed the short distance between them, then cupped Sofia’s face on her hands and pla
ced a soft and motherly kiss on Sofia’s brow. She swiped back the short fringes of hair and sighed. “I do love you, child.”

  Then she moved to the door and opened it. “You may come inside, now,” she said.

  Sofia turned around.

  In marched the Poleaxes with a train of servants carrying food and water and a tub. She had the sudden and horrid sense that she was reliving another day all over again. She closed her burning eyes and groaned.

  The Queen left and the Poleaxes took over. As her clothing was jerked off her, as she was twisted and turned, poked and prodded, and her skin almost scrubbed off, she knew that between the Queen’s women and her audience with the King, the very worst was yet to come.

  “Damn Edward!” Merrick slammed closed the door to his bedchamber and stalked into the room.

  Clio looked up from where she was combing her hair dry by the fire. Ah, she thought. Here he is . . . the Earl of Curses. She watched her husband walk across the room and stand near the window in the tower that faced east, opposite of where the sun was setting. Its glow came through another window, where it spilled through the opening and turned the walls and floor the color of wild heather.

  She set down the comb and rose, then crossed to where he stood, tall and stiff and angrier than she had seen him in a long time. She slid her arms around his broad chest and rested her hands on his ribs, her cheek against his back. “What is it?”

  He inhaled and then placed his big hands over hers. “The King has sent de Clare on another of his wild missions to the north. I swear I would think he does not want Sofia and Tobin settled.”

  “Well, that cannot be. I would think the King would deliver Sofia into the hands of the first good man willing to take her, antics and all. And as for Tobin, even now he still clings to that pride of his. He is not an easy young man to twist to one’s way of thinking. Although I suppose after time, he did listen to you.”

  “He was afraid of me.”

  “Aye, he was. But for Sofia, the fact remains that he is one of the few young men who will not let her walk all over him. It seems to me that they are the perfect couple.” She smiled and added quietly, “They fight like you and I did.”