The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  She took a deep breath and swallowed her fear before kicking her horse to a run again. There was no time to waste being squeamish about riding into an army, not when Jack’s life hung in the balance.

  “Are you Sir Crispin’s men?” she asked the first soldiers she came across at the edge of the encampment.

  A trio of worn men glanced up at her from the campfire where they were busy roasting their lunch. “We are,” one of them answered. “What do you want, boy?”

  Another quiver of panic slithered into Madeline’s gut. She’d forgotten what she looked like, and the chances of running into her father looking like she did were very high.

  “I need to see Sir Crispin. Now. Do you know where he is?”

  The man who spoke to her stood. “He’s at the house. I can take a message to him for you if you’d like.”

  She was tempted. “Thank you, but I need to speak to him myself.” She nudged her horse forward.

  “They won’t let you in!” the soldier called after her.

  “Oh yes they will,” she muttered under her breath.

  She rode for a few more yards before stopping beside the corral. There were plenty of men on hand but none of them rushed to take her horse when she dismounted. Stiffening her resolve, she tied it to the fence, leaving the saddle where it was. She huffed out a breath as she glanced up at the large house. No one would stop her from saving Jack, no one.

  She raked her hands through her hair a couple of times in an attempt to look presentable. It was hopeless. She gave up and marched on towards the house. Two armed men stood on either side of the door. They had the rough and tumble look of thugs for hire and watched her with casual readiness as she approached.

  “I need to see Sir Crispin,” she told them with as much bravado as she could muster.

  The sentries took one look at her and exchanged amused glances. “The Earl is busy. If you have a message-”

  “I need to see Crispin!” Her frayed nerves began to snap. “Let me pass!” She tried to charge on but the two men blocked her.

  “Whoa! Hold on there young man.”

  “I am not a young man. I am Lady Madeline of Matlock! Get out of my way!”

  The men didn’t step aside, but they did stare at her with new anxiety. “Well, um, Lady-”

  “I don’t have time for this!”

  She surged forward, hoping they would be surprised enough to part. Instead she barreled right into one of them and bounced off. The sentry shouted but she wasn’t deterred. She charged the door again, elbow first. The first sentry was smart enough to step out of the way but the other got an elbow in the gut. He bellowed as the wind was knocked out of him. The first sentry lifted Madeline off her feet. He tried to carry her away but she kicked and screamed, beyond reason.

  “Let me go! Put me down! I have to see Crispin! Now!”

  “What is the meaning of all this?” the dark voice of her father cut through the chaos of Madeline’s impromptu wrestling match.

  The sentry who had lifted her off her feet held her in mid-air, eyes wide, face pale. “This boy says he’s a lady,” he mumbled.

  Madeline struggled against the arm clamped around her. It was time to face the hell that had to be paid, for Jack’s sake. “Put me down!”

  Whether the sentry was listening to her or whether he put her down because her father was glowering at him Madeline didn’t know and didn’t care. As soon as she was on her feet she tugged at the shirt and vest she wore to straighten them and raked a hand through her hair. She swallowed and glanced up to meet her father’s eyes.

  “You!” Fury and disapproval radiated from him.

  Jack, she told herself, she needed to help Jack. No one would stop her, not even her father. “I need to speak to Sir Crispin right away.” She stood as tall and solid as she could.

  “I told you to go back to the convent!” He marched down the front stairs and across to her. She willed herself to hold her ground. “I told you that if I ever saw you outside of Coventry again I would drag you back there myself.”

  Her knees felt like butter. She swallowed to keep her stomach from heaving. She was not a disobedient child anymore. “I’m not going back to the convent, now or ever, father. I need to speak to Sir Crispin.”

  “Impertinent child! Seize her!” he ordered the sentries. “Tie her up if you have to!”

  “No!” She balled her fists and dodged the two hulking men when they reached for her. “I need to speak to Crispin. Crispin!” she shouted past her father into the house. “Crispin!”

  “Be quiet!” Her father took a threatening step forward.

  “No! You will not silence me! Never again!” She turned on him. “I will not be silent when Jack is in trouble! I love him!”

  He struck her before she realized the blow was coming. His hand smashed across her face and she saw stars. She would have fallen over if one of the sentries hadn’t caught her. The shock of sudden pain cleared her head. She took in a breath and righted herself, standing as straight as she could, and did what Jack would have done. She slapped him right back.

  Matlock was knocked sideways but spun back to face her. He touched the growing red mark on his cheek as though he couldn’t believe how it had gotten there.

  “Forget the convent, girl,” he growled, “I’ll send you to the church-yard instead!”

  He lunged towards her, hands going for her throat. There was no time to fear for her life. She dodged him and bolted through the door into the vast front hall of her former home. “Crispin!” she called at the top of her lungs, scrambling towards the far end of the room to the doorway that lead to the private family chambers. “Crispin! Help!”

  “Get her!” She heard her father shout behind her as Crispin rushed to the doorway at the far end of the room.

  Madeline had never been so happy to see her friend’s formidable husband in her life. She ran for him as he stepped into the hall, glancing past her to Matlock. With a skidding slide she spun to hide behind his back.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Crispin demanded.

  “This is family business, Sir Crispin, it’s no concern of yours,” her father glowered. He tried to side-step Crispin to make grab for her.

  Crispin threw his arms out to protect her and they moved together to keep the bulk of his body between Madeline and Matlock. “I will not let you harm her.”

  “Get out of the way!”

  “Crispin! Jack is in serious trouble! I need your help!”

  Stuck between two maelstroms, Crispin held one hand out to ward off Matlock while glancing over his shoulder at Madeline. “I’ve heard about the money and the woman Lydia.”

  “Lydia?” Matlock’s rage was interrupted.

  “I know how to stop the wedding,” Madeline rushed on, explaining as fast as she could. “We need you to come home immediately to tell Jack he’s been dispossessed in favor of Simon.”

  “What?” Crispin dropped his arm and turned to face her directly.

  “We need you to declare that Simon McFarland is the true lord of Kedleridge and that Jack isn’t.”

  “Is this true?” Matlock narrowed his eyes in thoughtful suspicion.

  “No.” Madeline dared to look at him again, steely determination in her eyes. “It isn’t. But Simon is the illegitimate son of the former lord.” She glanced to Crispin, urgency making her bold. “Lydia knows it. If you make the declaration then she will let Jack go. Simon agreed to marry her instead so that she will still hand over the money.”

  “What money?” Matlock boomed.

  Madeline winced. She didn’t want him to know anything. “Lydia’s money,” she gave a vague answer.

  “That whore has no more money than a fishwife,” her father scoffed.

  Madeline exchanged glances with Crispin. She could tell he didn’t want to reveal any more either. “We should leave at once,” he declared, holding her arms and shifting her to his other side so that he stood between her and Matlock as he rushed her out of the room.
/>   “I’m not finished with you!” Matlock charged after them.

  He was too quick. Before they could go more than a few steps he caught Madeline by the arm and wrenched her back. Madeline yelped and Crispin turned to shout, “Let her go!”

  “This is none of your business, Sir Crispin.” He rattled Madeline by the arm as he spoke. “You go and save your filthy mutt from the whore, but my daughter will stay here!”

  “I am not your daughter!” Madeline struggled and broke free from Matlock’s grip. She jumped to Crispin’s side, turning to face him. “You are no father to me!”

  “Hold your tongue or I’ll cut it out!”

  “No! No I will not!” Wells of pain that she hadn’t realized she still held spilled over. “You beat me for being willful then gave me away when I was a child! You sent me away to a cold, cruel place and for what?” Her whole body shook as she shouted. “You gave me up to the Holy Father! You are no father of mine anymore! You’re nothing but a mean, petty tyrant who bullies children and heckles true leaders without raising a finger to do anything yourself!”

  Matlock’s face grew pale, his neck splotched deep red. “Is that what you think, girl? You think I am so powerless? You think you can speak to me like that? You and your filthy peasant lover?”

  “Yes!” she shouted even as Crispin tried to stop her. “Yes I do! Jack Tanner is a thousand times the man you are! And he’ll be my husband by the end of the day if I have anything to say about it!”

  “Sir Crispin,” Matlock’s rumbled, his expression deadly, “I suggest you remove this piece of filth from my sight or I will have my mercenaries remove her corpse.”

  “Come along, Madeline,” Crispin swept an arm around her shoulder and rushed her away from Matlock and out through the front door without pause or question.

  Once they were outside in the overcast afternoon Madeline’s legs gave way. Her breath rushed out in a panicked sob. Crispin whisked her off her feet and sped towards the far end of the encampment.

  “I’m okay.” She found her breath again when they were deep in the rows of campfires. “No really, I’m okay,” she said again when he scowled at her.

  “Look around you,” he said in a tight whisper as he set her on her feet. “Your father has hired an army of mercenaries. He claims they are for protection in these uncertain times, but he could set them against us at any moment. He could have killed you.”

  She wobbled as she regained her footing, tugging at her vest to straighten it. “He wouldn’t dare.” If only she was convinced.

  “Gather my things and have my horse saddled at once!” Crispin ordered and two of his soldiers leapt into action while the mercenaries sent them curious looks. He rounded on Madeline. “I’m not sure if you are the bravest person I’ve ever met or the most foolish.”

  The situation was beginning to sink in. She turned wary eyes up to him. “I feel like the most foolish.”

  To her surprise, Crispin grinned. “Why on earth are you wearing Aubrey’s Bandit disguise?”

  She glanced down at her clothes. “It’s easier to ride in.” Her mind clicked back to the urgency of the task at hand. She grabbed Crispin’s arm. “We searched everywhere in the Derbywood for Lydia’s treasure but Tom thinks they have been moving it. We were fine until Pennington showed up.”

  “Pennington?” Crispin’s expression grew dark.

  Madeline nodded, beginning to catch her breath at last. “He was in the process of taking every farthing out of Derby Castle’s treasury when I left. And when Jack let slip that Simon is the son of the old lord I knew what we had to do. Simon is in on it. All you have to do is convince Lydia that Jack isn’t a lord anymore.”

  “How do you propose I do that?”

  Madeline bit her lip, glancing around at the encampment. It looked as though a whirlwind had blown through it. Half of the men were putting out campfires and loading horses. Only half.

  “If you declare it, shouldn’t that be enough?” Before he could reply she went on. “Or I could write up some sort of document. I have a good hand, I can make it look official.”

  Crispin nodded. “We can try it.” Relief poured through Madeline, bringing with it exhaustion. She nodded with a sigh, turning to go find her horse. “But Madeline,” Crispin stopped her with the power of his voice, “if this doesn’t work then you will have to let Jack do what he needs to do.”

  She shook her head, walking backwards toward the corral. “It will work. It has to work.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lydia flopped in one of the high-backed chairs in the so-called Great Hall of Kedleridge. “No, I don’t like that one.” She dismissed the bolt of silk brocade held up by the merchant who she’d called out to the manor. “It’s too drab. Show me something brighter.”

  “Yes, my lady.” The round man tossed the bolt to one of his young assistants and hissed at the other. The second assistant dragged his wary eyes from the hulking guards positioned around the room and pulled another bolt of rich gold and red from the large trunk they’d dragged into the hall earlier. “I can see that for a woman of your taste only the finest fabrics will do.”

  Lydia smiled at his flattery, obvious as it was, and popped another honeyed almond into her mouth. “Yes, that’s much better.” She leaned out of her chair to run a hand along the soft fabric.

  “Lydia!” She sat up with a jerk at the sound of Jack’s voice calling her name. A moment later the front door banged open and Jack strode into the room. He wore a dark scowl over his drawn, pale face. “I found a priest.” Tom Tanner and a middle-aged man with a tonsure and robes followed him along with the bodyguard.

  Lydia leapt from her chair, knocking the bowl of almonds over and scattering them across the floor. “You didn’t!” He looked as though he had come to tell her a hangman was waiting outside to string him up, but she didn’t care. At last she’d won. “Oh Jack, this is wonderful!” She skipped across the room, arms outstretched.

  “Oy! Don’t touch me!” He flinched away. “Remember our bargain.”

  Her eyes flickered to the confused merchant and his helpers. Embarrassing as Jack was, at that moment she didn’t care. “We’ll talk about that later,” she simpered. “Right now we have a wedding to attend! Simon! Someone fetch Simon.”

  “I’ll get him,” Jack scowled and turned to walk off.

  There was no need. Simon strode into the hall from the servant’s quarters. “My lord,” he nodded. “You have returned.”

  “Yeah,” Jack glowered. “An’ I found the bloody priests too.” Simon’s expression was blank but Lydia knew him well enough to notice the alarm in his eyes. More alarm than there should have been. “Did you know they were camping out at Morley?” Jack arched an eyebrow at Simon.

  Simon’s expression was blank as he answered, “Yes, my lord, I did.”

  Rage flared hot on Lydia’s cheeks. “What?”

  “An’ why didn’t you tell me?” Jack echoed her thoughts.

  Simon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He glanced to her. She closed her mouth. Could it be that he had kept the secret so he could keep her?

  “What does it matter?” Lydia spun to face the priest, heart light with all sorts of victories. “You can marry us right now, can’t you?”

  The priest opened his mouth to reply. Simon cut him off with, “No, you have to wait!”

  All eyes in the room turned to him. “What do you mean we have to wait?” Lydia plastered on her most beguiling smile. It was just her luck that now he wanted her, when it was least convenient.

  Jack said nothing but crossed his arms and waited for his steward to answer.

  “The money, my lord.” Simon resumed his unemotional demeanor. “I wouldn’t trust her to deliver it. If I were you I would demand that it be brought here to Kedleridge before the marriage takes place.”

  Arms still crossed, Jack switched his scowl to her. “You have a point there, mate.” She wanted to scratch the smug grin from his face. “Time to pay up, Lydia. You de
liver the goods and so will I.”

  She threw her shoulders back, turning up her nose at them all. “Oh I see. You think I’ll try to weasel out of my end of the bargain, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Jack smiled back.

  Her glanced flickered to Simon. He stared at her with intensity that flushed her whole body with heat. She licked her lips and sniffed as if she didn’t care. “Fine. I’ll go get it.” She started towards the door.

  “Oy!” Jack called after her as she passed. “Just like that? You’re just gonna walk out of here an’ go fetch a bleedin’ great lot of treasure as if you got it tucked up your skirts?”

  She glanced over her shoulder with a wicked grin as she reached the door and said, “Yes. And don’t think I don’t know how much that irritates you.” She glanced past a fuming Jack to Simon. “Don’t think I don’t know you have been trying to find my money for a month without success. I was always going to win this one and you knew it.”

  Simon’s eyebrow twitched just enough to let her know she’d tweaked him. She sent him a satisfied smirk to prove her point before glancing to her faithful guards. They nodded, understanding her unspoken command to stay behind and watch her prey.

  The stupid little boy in the stable managed to saddle her horse to her liking and she mounted and set off along the Derby road without delay. Jack and Simon would eat humble pie for months if they knew how close the money was and how easily she’d eluded them. She only needed to ride at top speed for half an hour before reaching an abandoned village near the edge of the forest. It was nothing more than a handful of hovels and a pitiful row of rotting haystacks.

  Roderick wandered out of the door of one of the huts when he heard the sound of her horse. He leaned against the cracked doorframe, picking his teeth with a piece of straw until she came to a stop and dismounted.

  “Where are Connor and the rest of the men?” she asked as she marched up to him.

  “On a walk. Why are you in such a good mood?”