Castle of the Wolf

by Margaret Moore - Castle of the Wolf

  “I’ll remember,” she replied, and then Hildie, too, left the chamber.

  Tamsin sat on the bed to watch Rheged eat. After the first few mouthfuls had taken the edge from his hunger, he asked, “How long was I asleep?”

  “It’s been two days since you fought Broderick.”

  “Two days!”

  “After the battle, you swooned. Thankfully Gareth was behind you and caught you as you fell. He and some of the others carried you here. Your fever didn’t break until dawn this morning. You rested more comfortably after that.”

  “While you, I think, haven’t rested at all.”

  “I dozed a little this morning.”

  He tore the loaf in two, set one part down and took a bite of the other. “You should sleep, Tamsin.” He gave her a grin. “Beside me, I think.”

  “You heard Gilbert. You need to rest. I’ll sleep later...if I can,” she finished in a whisper, with a look in her eyes that told him she was troubled by more than his illness.

  “What’s wrong? Has your uncle—”

  “He hasn’t come back, and I doubt he ever will. I think he’s had enough of both of us.”

  She looked down at her clasped hands. “I don’t know if you remember. Sir Algar—”

  “Is dead,” he said solemnly, remembering all too well. “And so is the vicious brute who struck him down, thanks to you.”

  “Even so, I wish I hadn’t killed him.”

  Rheged gently took her hand. “It is never easy to know a man died at your hands. But if you hadn’t killed Broderick, think of the harm he could have done. By your act, you’ve given all the other women he’s wronged in the past a measure of justice, too.”

  She nodded, his words bringing comfort, and yet... “You called his brothers vipers. Might they not come here seeking vengeance, the same way as Broderick did?”

  Rheged toyed with the spoon in his soup as he considered. “It’s possible.” He set the spoon down. “But I have hope we needn’t fear that they’ll be overly upset by Broderick’s death. It was fairly clear that they hated him, and with good cause.”

  “I pray you’re right!”

  “If they try to make trouble, there is still the matter of Sir Algar’s murder, for that’s what it was.”

  She rose and walked to the window before she faced him again. “Sir Algar said I was his daughter, yet my mother never once implied that another man might be my father. Granted I was young when she and my—her husband—died, but still! Do you think Sir Algar was right? Or could he have been trying to make amends for abandoning my mother?”

  “You never knew about Sir Algar’s relationship with your mother?”

  Tamsin shook her head. “No. After I met him, it was obvious that he’d cared for her, but I had no idea he wanted to marry her, or that he’d given her up.”

  “He wasn’t the man I thought he was,” Rheged murmured with regret.

  “Yet I think he paid a heavy price for his cowardice. He’s never married another. And whatever he did in his youth, he was a good and kind friend to us.”

  She covered Rheged’s hand with hers. “There is more, Rheged. He brought back his will when he returned the day of the contest, and he names me his daughter and heir to his estate.”

  “If he’s made you his heir, you’re rich,” Rheged said, happy for her until the full import of what Sir Algar had done hit him like an avalanche. Now that she was wealthy, men would flock to marry her. Men with large estates. Handsome men, powerful men. Men with more to offer. “That makes me your liegeman, my lady.”

  She frowned. “Liegeman? Are you not going to be my husband?”

  “You accepted my offer when you were poor and without family. You’re rich now, Tamsin. You can have any man for the choosing.”

  Her smile lit the chamber and made him feel like singing. “Then I choose Sir Rheged of Cwm Bron, who is rich in goodness, rich in honor, rich in all the ways that truly matter. Indeed I think I am the pauper here.”

  “You were rich the first day I met you,” he replied. “Rich in spirit, rich in intelligence, rich in compassion.”

  “Rich in desire.”

  He put the tray on the table beside the bed and reached for her. “Rich in love.”

  She pulled back and shook her head, although with obvious reluctance. “You’re supposed to rest, Rheged.”

  “Then get in bed and rest with me, for tomorrow, we must wed.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “You have some reason to wait, my lady?”

  “You’ve been very ill.”

  “I’m getting better by the minute,” he murmured, his actions giving some evidence that he was indeed much better.

  “It’s very tempting, my lord, my love, especially since I found this in your belt.” With love glowing in her eyes, she reached into the cuff of her sleeve and pulled out the lock of hair she had left in the box on the shelf.

  “I’ve never had a talisman before, but I thought I should have one when I fought Broderick, and what better?”

  “I didn’t know you’d found it.”

  He smiled, embarrassed, yet unrepentant. “I didn’t. Hildie gave it to me and told me what it was when she was trying to get me to stay in bed. Apparently she thought if I had a reminder of you, I would be less inclined to risk dying. The poor woman didn’t realize I would have no life worth living without you.”

  “Nor I without you,” she replied, lifting the blanket and laying down beside him.

  “You’re still dressed,” he noted with disappointment as he put his arm around her.

  She nestled closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s rest you need, Rheged, and it’s rest you’re going to have,” she replied, yawning, and gently removing his hand from her breast.

  He didn’t feel tired, but she obviously was, so he kissed the top of her head and said no more.

  * * *

  Hildie looked down at the sleeping couple and nudged Elvina. “What did I tell you? Lovers for days. I knew it the moment I saw the way he looked at her.”

  “And she at him,” Elvina said with a sigh.

  There was a rap at the door and both maidservants turned to see Gareth standing on the threshold.

  Hildie ran up to him and pushed him out of the chamber. “They’re asleep and they both need their rest, you great ox.”

  “Then what are you two doing here?” he demanded, hands on his hips.

  “Leaving!” Hildie retorted, pulling the door closed after Elvina joined her and giving him another shove that made him back down a step. “And you’re not to bother them again.”

  “I need the watchword for tonight,” he protested.

  “Are you that stupid you can’t make one up yourself?” Hildie retorted before, giving him another little push.

  “Watch it, woman, or you’re going to break my neck.”

  “Then get out of our way.”

  Gareth pressed himself back against the curved wall to let Hildie and Elvina pass. When Elvina went to go by, he smiled at the shy, quiet young woman.

  Blushing very prettily, Elvina lowered her head and hurried on her way.

  A frown creased Gareth’s forehead as he watched her go. “Might as well celebrate two weddings with one feast, if she’ll have me,” he murmured.

  Then, being Gareth, he grinned.

  * * *

  Mavis pulled the hood of her black woollen cloak over her head and clutched the small bundle to her chest as she cautiously made her way down the servants’ stairs and into the yard. In the east, the sky was just beginning to lighten. If she were a better rider, she would have risked fleeing Castle DeLac in the darkest hours, but she had to take a fast horse, and had not the skill to risk speed without sunlight. She’d already lost one night because of the weather; she couldn’t risk waiting for another chance.

  Fortunately she had never been one to rise early, not even after Tamsin had been taken, so she could hope that she wouldn’t be missed until terce. By then, if she took her father
’s best horse, she could be far away.

  She must be far away.

  She waited in the shadows until she saw the guard pass, then scurried across the space between the family apartments and the woolshed. She had to wait another few moments while another guard passed on the wall walk above before she dashed across the alley and slipped into the stable.

  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, her heart and thoughts racing while she waited, holding tight to her bundle.

  She had only another shift and pair of shoes, a flint, some jewelry and a few coins in the bundle. She prayed God that would be enough to keep her until she could find sanctuary at a convent or other religious house. Not one close by where her father could find her, and perhaps force the sisters to return her, though.

  She’d considered heading for Cwm Bron. Her cousin would surely take her in and protect her as best she could, but Mavis didn’t want to risk involving her cousin in her escape. Let Tamsin be safe and perhaps even happy with—

  A horse shifted restlessly in the stable closest to her. Perhaps she’d startled it. She looked up at the hatch to the loft overhead where the stable boys and grooms slept.

  Nothing. Only silence. She started to breathe again, until the horse whinnied and straw rustled and a deep voice said, “Steady, Hephaestus!”

  Who was that? She didn’t recognize the voice, so it couldn’t be one of the grooms or soldiers. And the accent was that of a Yorkshireman. Whoever it was, she mustn’t be seen, so she pressed herself farther back in the doorway. She didn’t dare open the door and slip out, lest she be heard and her plan thwarted.

  “What’s disturbed you, eh?” the man continued, his voice low and gentle. “Strange stable, is that it? And ridden too hard and too fast for too long? Well, I shall make it up to you, any road. I’ll see if there’s an apple in the kitchen to spare.”

  Able to see better now, Mavis could make out the shape of a man near the head of the horse in the stable. He was tall and broad-shouldered and fairly young, to judge by his voice, although certainly no lad.

  She watched as he came out of the stable and went to the trough, where he splashed water on his face and neck. Straightening, he shook himself like a dog and then raked his hair back with his fingers.

  By the saints, it was nearly as long as Sir Rheged’s!

  The stranger straightened his tunic, which seemed to be fairly plain, then reached back into the stable for a sword belt that he buckled around his narrow waist. His nose was straight and his jaw strong, his lips unexpectedly full. His eyes were large and as dark as the eyebrows above them.

  “I’ll see about that apple now,” he said to the horse. “But you must be patient, Heffy. I am a very important fellow, you know, and I cannot appear to be begging.”

  He said the last with a wry, self-mocking tone that made Mavis even more curious.

  The man went to the door leading to the yard, but before he opened it, he rotated his head and rolled his shoulders, then tugged down his tunic and took a deep breath. It was like watching one of the entertainers at a feast prepare for his performance.

  “Is there something you need, my lady?”

  With a gasp, she looked up to see at the round, middle-aged and bearded face of the head groom peering down at her from the open hatch above, and her plans to flee evaporated. “Oh, Allen, there you are!” she cried, making it sound like she’d come to speak to him on purpose.

  “You heard that Sir Roland arrived in the night, then?”

  Sir Roland? It was a not-uncommon name, but no specific Roland came to mind.

  “Charlie told you, I suppose,” Allen continued. “I hope he didn’t disturb you, my lady. Sir Roland said you wasn’t to be disturbed or any fuss made. He said he’d sleep in the stable with his horse. Fine animal, that, I must say!”

  She was tempted to agree, and she didn’t mean the horse. “Did he ride far yesterday?” she asked as Allen came down the ladder that creaked beneath his weight.

  “I don’t think he stopped more’n twice all the way from Dunborough.”

  Mavis’s throat suddenly went dry. She swallowed hard, then tried to sound calm. “Dunborough?”

  “That’s what he said. He’s related to that Broderick, I take it.”

  “He might be his brother.”

  Allen frowned. “Hope he’s not going to make trouble for you and your father, my lady.”

  “I hope so, too.” She turned to go.

  “Need that taken somewhere, do you?”

  She paused and turned around, eyeing the groom quizzically. He nodded at the bundle in her hands.

  “No, no, it’s just some things for the poor,” she lied. “I was on my way to take it to the chapel for Father Bryan when I thought I heard someone in the stable. It must have been Sir Roland. Now I had best get to the chapel, and then I must see to the accommodation for our guest.” She gave the groom a smile. “I still don’t know how Tamsin managed to do all that she did.”

  “You’re doing fine, my lady,” Allen assured her. “Everybody says so, especially since your father... That is, His Lordship’s not...”

  “No, he’s not,” Mavis agreed before she left the stable and cautiously started back the way she’d come, doing her best to avoid being seen by any of the servants who were stirring.

  Her escape would have to wait one more day. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do, so she went back to her chamber with her bundle.

  Once there, she hid the bundle beneath her bed again before changing her gown from the simple, coarse traveling gown of heavy wool she’d been wearing to a more expensive, prettier one of a delicate green, like leaves in the spring. After all, it would look suspicious if she wore that brown gown, and if the green one was a little fine for daily wear, well, it was the first one she’d seen in her clothes chest.

  She had barely finished tying the front laces of the bodice when there was a quick knock on the door. She opened it to find Charlie standing there, hopping from foot to foot as if the soles of his shoes were on fire. “If you please, my lady, you’re to go to the solar. Right away.”

  “But surely my father—”

  “He’s awake, my lady, and shouting for you. He’s in a right foul temper, my lady.”

  Perhaps Sir Roland had insisted on speaking with him at once.

  Although there was no one nearby, Charlie dropped his voice to a whisper. “Denly’s in the hall and he says you’re to call him if you need him.”

  If her father struck her again, or tried to hurt her, he meant. She was grateful for the offer, but her father was rarely sober enough to harm anyone these days. Nevertheless she said, “Thank you, Charlie, and tell Denly I’ll remember,” before she gathered up her skirts and hurried past him.

  Once at the solar door, she took a moment to calm herself, then entered.

  A broad-shouldered man with hair to his shoulders was standing with his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he faced her father. He was seated behind the vast table and looked worse than usual, his face mottled, his nose red, his eyes overly moist, his clothes stained and soiled. He hadn’t even bothered to change since he returned from Cwn Bron, and he hadn’t stopped drinking, either.

  She didn’t have to see the features of the man standing in front of him to know it was Sir Roland of Dunborough. She could tell by his broad shoulders, long legs and hair to his shoulders.

  “Sir Roland,” her father slurred with a wave of his hand, “my daughter, Mavis.”

  The younger man turned, and his deep brown eyes widened. “You are more beautiful than they told me,” he said with obvious surprise. Then it was as if a door had closed, for his expression became as grave as a bishop’s.

  “I am delighted to meet you, my lady,” he continued, his tone as formal as his bow.

  “And I, you, my lord,” she replied with equal formality.

  Her father reached for the wine goblet at his elbow. “She’s yours if you want her, Sir Roland. Same terms, sa
me dowry, as your father agreed to for Tamsin.”

  Still looking gravely at Mavis, Sir Roland didn’t so much as glance at her father as he replied. “I shall be honored to have this lady for my wife.” Then, for just a moment, the gentle man in the stable returned as he lowered his voice and said, “If she will be pleased to accept me.”

  “Of course she will,” her father exclaimed. “It’s that or a convent.”

  When Mavis answered, she spoke not to her father, but to Roland of Dunborough. “I accept, my lord.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Some time had passed before Rheged and Tamsin finally left the bedchamber and made their way to the hall below. Servants and soldiers greeted their arrivals with clapping, stamping and cheers, much to Tamsin’s blushing delight and, she could tell, Rheged’s pleasure. He held up his hands for silence, and when the noise had mostly died down, he said, “I’m glad to see you all, and so is my lady, who will become my wife on the morrow.”

  There were more cheers and clapping after that announcement, as well as calls for wine to toast Sir Rheged and his bride. Hildie, Elvina and a few other servants hurried to fill the goblets, including those on the table where Rheged and Tamsin would sit.

  Tamsin thought of one man who should be there, and sighed.

  Rheged squeezed her hand. “He’s pleased, I’m sure,” he said quietly, giving her a little smile.

  “I’m sure he is, too,” she replied.

  The soldiers and those servants not serving had likewise taken their places, except for Gareth, who remained on his feet. “We wish you joy, my lord, my lady, and plenty of children to come!”

  Again Tamsin felt the heat of a blush and the squeeze of Rheged’s hand before he rose and gravely said, “I shall do my best.”

  The hall filled with laughter and the general cacophony of several people talking at once, while the bread and trenchers and thick stew began to arrive. The meal was a long and lively one, yet all the while Tamsin was mindful of Rheged beside her, his apparent good health and what that might mean when they retired.