The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  A long silence followed. “Roderick … Roderick has always been difficult. From the time he was a boy. He…” The pause was so long that Jack didn’t think he would get an answer. “I failed to instill him with a proper sense of right and wrong. I failed as a father.”

  “I’m sure you did your best, mate.” He was surprised to hear the words leave his lips. Roderick was a first-class wanker and in his experience those sort were made not born. He flexed his back, trying to find a more comfortable position and coax blood back into his limbs. “It’s not your fault if he up an’ killed someone,” he continued where he left off when the silence became more uncomfortable than their position.

  Simon shook his head. “It’s not the fact that he killed someone, it was his reasons why.”

  Jack waited as long as his patience would allow for the rest of the story, and when it didn’t come he prompted, “So why did he kill him?” His question was met by silence. He waited. Still no answer. Restless irritation seeped back into his bones. He filled in the answers from the things he’d heard. “Oy, hold on. He killed his lord, didn’t he? Lord Hugh who had Kedleridge before me. The one that tied you up and locked you in that chest?” Simon tensed behind him. He knew he was right. Ethan’s murderous little lap-dog was the reason he called Kedleridge home today. “You’re joking!” he exclaimed as if Simon had answered him. “So what’d you do about it?”

  “Nothing!” he finally snapped, “Alright? I did nothing about it!”

  Jack clamped his mouth shut. He turned to face front, mulling over the information as he stared at the tent flap. He wished he could reach the rosary and run the beads through his fingers. He always thought better when he played with those beads. “You were protecting him, weren’t you.” Again his statement was met by silence and he knew it was true. “Oy, mate, no offense or nothin’, but I got to know Roderick a bit and he’s not exactly the kind that should be protected, if you know what I mean.”

  “He’s my son,” Simon answered in a voice so low that Jack almost didn’t hear him.

  Jack took in a deep breath, letting it out on a sigh. If he had done something half that bad, if his father had been around when the horse was stolen, he would have turned him and Tom both in first chance he got and watched them hang with a smile. The respect Jack already had for his steward grew tenfold. “Right,” he nodded, “Well, I won’t tell the law neither then.”

  “My lord,” Simon spoke in a flat tone, “you are the law.”

  Jack blinked. Then his face split into a wide grin and he began to laugh, in spite of the pain and the frustration and misery that made him want to crawl out of his skin. He laughed because the situation was so bloody ridiculous. He laughed because for five short minutes he had forgotten that he was no longer a wily horse thief from Shropshire.

  “Oy,” he snapped his eyes open as the question came to him. “So if Roderick killed the old lord of Kedleridge, what would have happened if Prince John hadn’t up and handed the whole lot over to me?”

  Simon tensed. “Someone’s at the door.”

  The tent flap folded aside, flooding them with harsh morning sunlight. Jack squinted and turned his head, trying to see who came in without being blinded. When the flap dropped again his heart sank at the sight of Lydia.

  “Good morning, boys,” her smile was full of false sweetness. She carried a stool that she set on the floor between them, sitting and crossing her legs with a cheery sigh. “Well this is intimate, isn’t it?”

  From the way their back’s touched Jack had a fair idea that Simon was staring straight forward, refusing to acknowledge Lydia’s presence. He considered doing the same thing.

  Thirst got the better of him. “Oy, you bring some food an’ drink for us, mate?”

  “Oh?” she batted her eyelashes. “Are you hungry?”

  Jack sighed and stared at the wall in front of him. “Bitch.”

  “My lord!” She sat straighter in mock offense. “You’ll hurt my feelings if you talk to me like that.”

  “You have feelings?” He arched an eyebrow. “Coulda fooled me, mate.”

  Her throaty laughter sent a chill down his already aching back. “Now, now, Jack,” she switched to his common name. He hated the way it sounded in her voice. “You should be nice to me.”

  “Should I?” He turned his head to glare at her.

  “Yes, you should.”

  “Why?”

  “My lord, don’t bait her,” Simon’s comment cut between them.

  Her expression hardened. “You keep out of this!”

  Simon fell silent again, his back rock hard.

  Lydia’s cloying smile returned as she leaned forward on her crossed legs, resting an elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand. “Now Jack, let’s see if we can’t figure out a way to get you out of this horrid little mess you’ve created for yourself.”

  The surprising sting of her words threw him off balance. It was his own damned fault at that. “Right then,” he played along, matching false grin for false grin. “What do you want?”

  “Such impatience,” she tutted. “I’ll have to train you to have so much more endurance if I’m to get the best out of you.”

  Her suggestive wink left him cold. “What do you want?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I want you, Lord John of Kedleridge.”

  “Fat chance,” he huffed out a laugh, facing the wall again. It wasn’t worth paying her any mind.

  “I want your title,” she went on as if he was all rapt attention. “I want your land.”

  Simon snorted. Lydia snapped a scathing look in his direction. She picked up her stool and scooted closer to Jack, out of Simon’s line of sight.

  “We could be so good together, you know.” She ran her fingers along the top of his shoulder and squeezed his bicep. He flinched but the ropes trapped him under her touch. “We could be very, very good together. As man and wife, lord and lady.”

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell,” he growled through clenched teeth.

  Her throaty laugh made his hair stand on end. “You’ll see things my way,” she leaned close and whispered in his ear, stroking her hand across the bit of his chest that wasn’t covered in rope. “You’ll see.”

  “Never.” His skin grew hot with revulsion. It was small comfort that for once his body was in tune with his thoughts.

  “You’ll marry me, Jack, and I will make you into the perfect lord.” He turned his head away but she kept talking. “Those fools who laughed at you at the council will shake in their boots when they hear your name. They’ll scrape to kiss your feet. When you marry me you’ll have the whole shire at your feet.”

  He cursed the twist of fear that shook through his gut, the promise of power.

  “Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” Simon hissed behind him. “You’re so very good at it.”

  Lydia sucked in a breath and slapped Simon across the face. He jerked forward, snapping the ropes taut and squeezing the air from Jack’s lungs with a sharp gasp.

  “You will learn manners, Simon McFarland. I told you once you would regret the way you treated me and the time has come for me to make good on that promise!” She stood, taking her stool with her. “I see that you need a bit more time to consider my proposal.” Her attempt to resume her seductive act only half succeeded. “I wouldn’t take too long if I were you, Jack.” She turned and left the tent. As the flap fell Jack heard her tell someone, “No food or drink until I say so. And keep Tom Tanner away.”

  The twin response of, “Yes, my lady,” sunk Jack’s heart to the ground. He knocked his head back against the post, blinking up at the ceiling. Simon shifted and leaned against the post with him. Neither man spoke. The only positive thing that had come out of the whole crap encounter was that his hands had moved behind him so that the cross of Madeline’s rosary dangled into his palm. He squeezed it and closed his eyes to pray. Hail Madeline, full of grace….

  The hills and fields leading into Windale were a balm to Toby’s
soul. The scent of the fields plowed for planting, the song of the birds chasing through the air above them, and the feeling of the road he had walked so many times under his feet brought him to the edge of tears. He didn’t know how he had managed to live without home for so long. No, he corrected himself with a shake of his head, home was where Ethan was.

  “Isn’t it beautiful,” he sighed and swayed closer to his master.

  Ethan’s scowl melted as he glanced around and took a deep breath. “That it is.”

  Seeing Ethan smile at last, a true and pure smile, filled Toby with joy. “You should have told me we were coming here, my lord. I would have brushed out your best tunic. As it is your boots need repairing. I could have polished them if only I’d known. And I would have found you some rosewater somewhere so that you could have washed your hair.”

  “Rosewater?” Ethan laughed, slowing half a pace to thump Toby on the back. “What am I, a girl?”

  “I just want you to be at your best.” His chest constricted as Ethan left his arm around his shoulder. “For this … this homecoming.”

  The smile Ethan gave him warmed him to his toes. “It is a homecoming, isn’t it.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Which is why there was no time for pretty preparations.” His smile turned vicious. “Huntingdon is gone, and when the cat’s away the mice reclaim what’s theirs.” He patted him on the back once more then strode forward towards Windale’s common.

  Toby’s heart flopped. He scurried to catch up as Ethan puffed his chest and passed the first outlying buildings marking Windale village. The church stood at the other end of the road, the common to their right with Windale Manor at the far end. The villagers that weren’t out in the fields or down by the mill looked up from what they were doing. Chores were abandoned and neighbors rushed to their garden walls to whisper to each other.

  “People of Windale!” Ethan announced in a booming voice as he reached the center of the common. “Your true master has come home!”

  Toby swallowed and inched closer to Ethan as he stood with his arms outstretched. Silence followed the pronouncement. A cluster of women had formed at one end of the common. Two old men exchanged comments at the end closer to the church. Ethan’s smile faded. He dropped his arms.

  “I’m home,” he explained to the gathering villagers. “Huntingdon is gone. You’ve no need to suffer his rule anymore.”

  The whispering grew but was still no more than odd stares and crossed arms.

  “My lord,” Toby leaned close to Ethan, wringing his hands. “I think we should have planned this out a little more.”

  Ethan sent him a perturbed look. “What are you talking about? They’re just nervous. There’s no need to be afraid,” he spoke to the villagers. “I won’t let Huntingdon hurt you anymore.”

  “What in God’s name is going on here?” an older man called from the door of the manor.

  Toby turned to find Lewis, Windale Manor’s steward, marching down from the house. When Ethan turned Lewis’s expression popped to surprise and he stopped.

  Ethan grinned from ear to ear. “Lewis!” He strode across the common to meet him, slapping his shoulder like an old friend. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Lord Ethan,” Lewis frowned, glancing down his arm as if Ethan might have gotten dirt on him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to reclaim Windale,” he announced with a proud sigh.

  Lewis blinked at him. He shook his head. “Hello Toby. Your sister isn’t here at the moment. She’s at Derby Castle.”

  “I know,” Toby muttered, turning anxious eyes to Ethan.

  Ethan’s smile was all but gone. “Aren’t you happy to see me, Lewis?”

  Lewis stared at him, swept a glance from his over-long, dirty hair to his scuffed boots and back again. “Happy to see a grubby outlaw?” Toby knew he should have prepared his master’s best clothes.

  All Ethan could do was stand there gaping. “But I’ve come home. Huntingdon can’t stop me from taking possession of Windale. He’s miles away and Jack is a prisoner in the forest.”

  Lewis wrinkled his nose as though listening to a deranged child tell tales. “Windale is well-provided for in the earl’s absence.” He drew himself up to his full height. “The planting is ahead of schedule and I’ve already collected the year’s plow tax and the additional amount for the king’s ransom.” He bowed his head at the mention of the king. “The earl will be pleased to see that Windale runs smoothly in his absence.”

  “But it doesn’t have to run smoothly in his absence,” Ethan snapped. Lewis jumped. Toby cringed. He was afraid this would happen. “I’m home!”

  “My lord, perhaps we should go.” Toby rested a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

  Ethan shrugged it off. “You don’t have to put up with Huntingdon anymore! If we band together we’ll have the strength to fight him off.”

  Lewis caught on to where Ethan was going and shook his head. “We don’t ‘put up’ with the earl,” he spoke down his nose to Ethan. “Windale is proud, exceedingly proud, to serve the Earl of Derby.”

  “But-”

  “I know these lands used to be in your possession,” Lewis interrupted him as he would any other servant under his supervision, “but they are yours no more. We are the earl’s men to a person.”

  “How can you say that when Huntingdon killed my father, the true lord of this land?”

  Lewis sighed. “Everyone knows that old Barty Knoblock killed Lord Robert when he was in his cups.”

  “It was Huntingdon!”

  “Do you have a problem, Lewis?” A second man who Toby recognized as Windale’s blacksmith joined them on the common. His arms were as hard as stones and he flexed his hands as if eager to use them.

  “It’s nothing, Jonas. This man was just leaving.”

  Jonas glanced at Ethan and snorted. When he noticed Toby his face split into a toothy grin. “Toby! Haven’t seen you in ages!” He swept forward and crushed Toby in a manly hug. “How’s that sister of yours,” he winked. “Still at the castle with Lady Aubrey? We all miss lookin’ at her somethin’ fierce.”

  “She’s well,” Toby squeaked, withering under Ethan’s furious look.

  “Tell her I say hello next time you see her.”

  Ethan grabbed Toby’s arm and dragged him away. “I will,” he called over his shoulder as he stumbled.

  His heart was so low as they marched out of Windale that he was surprised he wasn’t tripping over it. Ethan was silent, his jaw hard and his back stiff. He let go of Toby’s wrist as they rounded the first hill along the road to Derby but the red fury in his face remained. They walked for nearly half an hour before Toby worked up the courage to say anything.

  “It’s not as bad as all that, my lord,” he muttered, not seeing how things could be any worse.

  Ethan stopped walking but continued to stare at the road, body tight with anger.

  “At least we have one less thing to worry about,” he fished for something to make things better.

  Ethan’s fury flared. “One less thing to worry about?” he snapped.

  Toby swallowed. “We … we still have each other.”

  Ethan sighed and stormed off the road to sit in the shade of an oak tree. Toby could feel his heart breaking for him. He left the road to sit by Ethan’s side.

  “I’ll just have to take it by force,” Ethan mumbled, picking at the grass in front of him.

  “You’d never attack Windale,” Toby reasoned with him. “You love it too much. We can never outright attack the things we love, no matter how wrong they might be.”

  “Everything’s wrong,” Ethan missed his meaning. “The land, the war, the king in captivity, our place in the whole thing. It’s all wrong. I just want to fix things, put them back the way they should be, like everything we were fighting for in the Holy Land.”

  “Some things can’t be fixed, my lord,” Toby sighed, raising a hesitant hand and placing it on Ethan’s shoulder. “
No matter how much we might want them to be different, no matter how much we long for certain things to be possible, some things in life will never be ours to have.”

  The stillness between them was broken only when Ethan turned to him with a sad smile. “Since when did you become so wise in the ways of the world, Toby?”

  A thousand thoughts and confessions hovered on the edge of Toby’s lips. They trembled there, begging to be said. The pain of keeping them bottled was almost too much to bear. “I became wise, my lord, the day I realized that if you can’t have what you want at least you can serve what you want.” The depth of incomprehension in Ethan’s eyes settled like a rock of disappointment deep in Toby’s heart. He took a breath. “Windale is lost to you, my lord, but if you still love it then you need to do everything in your power to make sure it is safe and prosperous. No matter who is lord over it.”

  Ethan lowered his head. He swallowed and nodded and patted Toby’s knee. Toby closed his eyes and prayed that Ethan wouldn’t see the tear that escaped.

  “Then I know what I need to do,” Ethan sighed, pushing himself to stand. “I need to prove I’m the best leader for Windale. I need to collect the king’s ransom.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Every bone in Madeline’s body ached by the time she and Joanna rode back into Derby Castle’s courtyard. She groaned as she slipped off her horse, resting her head against its neck for a moment to steel herself to report her failure to Aubrey. Even thinking the word failure brought a lump to her throat. She sucked in a breath and stood straight. Failure was unacceptable.

  “Where are you going, my lady?” Joanna caught up with her as she marched around the side of the castle towards the armory.

  “I’m going to get a sword,” she told her without looking back.

  “A sword? What for?”

  “I’m going back into the forest to rescue Jack.”

  “My lady,” Joanna laughed and grabbed her arm to stop her. Her laughter stopped when she saw the sharp determination in Madeline’s face. “You don’t know how to wield a sword.”