Song of the Heart (Medieval Runaway Wives Book 1)

by Alexa Aston

  “Let me accompany you,” she pleaded.

  In answer, he put an arm about her waist and led her to the great hall, happy she didn’t want to be parted from him for even a short length of time.

  The evening meal was being cleared as they entered. Servants scurried along, clacking empty tankards and returning the trestle tables back against the walls. Many moved close to the hearth fire, which crackled and danced. Several called out greetings as they entered.

  Cook rushed over to them. “Was the pheasant pleasing, my lord?”

  “It surpassed your usual standard, Cook.”

  She beamed with pleasure. “Would it be possible for Madeleine to grace us with a song?”

  Garrett spoke for her. “Tomorrow. Madeleine is still weary from our journey home.”

  Madeleine nodded at the woman. “I promise that the first song will be for you, Cook.”

  Cook chuckled, rubbing her gnarled hands together. “Can’t wait to tell that stinking Coster. He thought the first song ’twould be for him. Hmmph!” She waddled off in triumph.

  “Oh, dear,” Madeleine said. “I hope I haven’t caused any problems.”

  Ashby approached and bowed low to Madeleine. He took her hand, brushing a kiss lightly across her knuckles.

  “If you’re interested in keeping your hand attached to your wrist, Ash, I’d suggest you release Madeleine’s.”

  Ashby’s eyes lit with mischief. He gave Madeleine’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “If I must,” he said, then quipped, “I have become rather attached to it.” Then his expression grew serious. “Barth has finished his meal. He’s over in the corner playing dice.”

  Garrett glanced casually in that direction. “I don’t want this turned into a public spectacle. Give me a few minutes and then tell him he’s to come to the solar. Have a guard of six waiting outside the hall to escort him. Mayhap he’ll have plenty to think of on his way to see us.”

  He led Madeleine back up the stairs. He took her warm hand in his cold one. She pressed it reassuringly and he squeezed hers in return, drawing strength from her calm.

  They entered the solar. The fire’s warmth enveloped the room, its shadows dancing along the wall.

  He seated Madeleine on a stool and took the chair next to it. “I know you want to be here but this will be an ugly matter we address. I’ll not play gentleman to this cur.”

  “As long as we find the truth, Garrett. That’s what we must come away with.”

  “We shall,” he said with determination.

  *

  They waited in silence until Madeleine heard footsteps in the distance. She tensed in anticipation as the noise of booted feet grew closer. A heavy knock sounded at the door. Garrett did not respond to it immediately. She looked at him as he stared at the door, his jaw clenched. Her own heart raced as he finally called, “Enter.”

  Barth was brought in, led by Ashby and surrounded by the six guards. All were armed with swords by their sides. Next to their height and width, the serf seemed dwarfed.

  Madeleine instantly recognized Barth from the jeweler’s description of him. She did not recall ever having seen the man during her time at Stanbury but he was memorable. His thick hair and beard were bright red. That, along with the massive patch he wore over his right eye, would make him stand apart in a crowd. Edith had told Madeleine that years ago Barth had been kicked in the face by a horse and lost the eye.

  She remembered how Evan had complained about Barth’s short temper when he’d worked in the stables briefly before he left Stanbury. Evan, with his sunny nature and love for life, had nothing good to say about the stableman. Madeleine realized that mayhap children were the best judges of character, after all.

  Madeleine glanced over as Edith slipped into the room and took a seat near the window. Garrett signaled the men and they moved a few steps away from their prisoner. Ashby went to stand close to Edith.

  Now that the knights had moved aside, Madeleine had a better view and could see the utter terror on Barth’s face. He was not a large man, shorter than she was, but he seemed to shrink within himself with each passing moment, thanks to Garrett’s silence.

  Madeleine gained a new respect for Garrett as she watched his control. She realized how eager he was to find out what this man knew and yet he sat calmly, leisurely studying his servant. He leaned an elbow upon the arm of his chair, his chin resting atop his fist as he inspected the man before him.

  Barth wiggled and squirmed under such scrutiny, but Garrett’s gaze was unrelenting.

  Suddenly, Garrett asked, “Do you know why you were brought here, Barth?” His voice was low, but no one present had trouble hearing what he said.

  Barth licked his lips nervously. His eyes flicked about the room before he met Garrett’s penetrating gaze. “No, my lord.” He attempted a casual air but his voice wavered slightly. “Can’t say I do.”

  “No?” Garrett shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I thought you might have some idea.”

  Barth started to answer but no sound came out. He cleared his throat noisily and tugged at the collar of his tunic. Finally, he answered, “No, my lord. Haven’t got a clue.”

  Madeleine saw that the stable hand’s legs began to tremble. His lips quivered as he tried to form his words. “Well, it could have to do with, and I’m not saying I’m at fault, but it could be the drinking.”

  Garrett looked almost amused. “The drinking?” he questioned innocently.

  “Well, my lord, I know you warned me about it but every now and then I do like to take a nip.” He paused a moment and then nodded furiously. “Yes, I do believe I’m here about my drinking.”

  “No.”

  The one word was all Garrett uttered. He sat motionless in his chair.

  Barth began fidgeting again. He scratched his head and then a surprised look appeared upon his face. “Oh, of course. I know now. You want to talk to me about the fight.”

  “Fight?” Again, Madeleine thought Garrett look almost bored as he sat facing Barth.

  “Not the fight?” Barth asked weakly.

  “You mean the fight with John? The one where you fought dirty and almost blinded him in one eye?” Garrett shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it either.”

  Barth’s face began to reflect his rising panic and flushed dark red above his beard. Nervously, he bit a nail, then another, as the room remained silent. He finally realized what he was doing and quickly lowered his hand from his mouth. He swallowed hard and then muttered, “Must be about the girl.” His eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped.

  Garrett sat forward, his elbows propped on his knees, his hands clasped together. “I know about no girl, Barth.”

  Barth winced.

  “Do you want to tell me about this girl? Who is she? What do I need to hear about the matter?”

  Barth blurted out, “’Tis Sarah. She’s going to have a babe and she says it’s mine!” He shook his head back and forth vigorously. “But it cannot be, my lord.”

  Garrett sighed. “Why would I have expected better from you, Barth?”

  The man trembled in both legs and hands now. “Oh, I’ll do better, my lord. I promise you that. Yes, old Barth will do much better in the future. You can count on me.”

  Garrett did not mince words. “As I counted on you to take care of Lady Montayne?”

  The sudden switch in subject startled Madeleine, although she had known it would come. As for Barth, his previously flushed face whitened immediately. He tried to speak but his words didn’t form beyond a wheeze.

  “What can you tell me about Lady Montayne’s disappearance four years ago, Barth?” When the serf didn’t answer, he snapped, “I want the truth. Now. All of it.”

  As he spoke, Garrett stood and moved closer to the bearded man. He leisurely reached into his purse and removed Lynnette’s necklace. He dangled it in front of him, letting it rock back and forth as a pendulum, just inches from the serf’s face.

  “
No,” Barth whispered. “It cannot be.” He turned to run but the guards surrounded him, leaving his only way of escape through Garrett. He shrank back and turned in circles, trapped as a rat by an army of large cats.

  Garrett’s features were now hard as stone. “I want answers. Truthful answers.”

  The servant fell to his knees. “You’re a hard man, my lord. You expect too much of us. ’Twas fear that kept me from coming to you. Everyone around Stanbury way knows how . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Knows what, Barth?” Garrett glared at Barth in anger, his fists balled at his sides. “That I kept you on, despite your drinking and carelessness, because of your family? Or that I demand things be done right? A fair day’s work for a fair day’s wage?”

  “Fair?” Barth hissed. “You’re as wicked as Satan Himself. You should suffer as long and hard as I have.”

  Garrett remained remarkably cool. Only his eyes were ablaze. As Barth’s eyes met his master’s, Madeleine saw the dawning moment of defeat in them.

  Silence blanketed the room. All that could be heard was Barth’s labored breathing. At last he blurted out, “I might as well tell you the truth. Though it weren’t my fault at all, no, not at all. It was an accident.”

  Garrett moved away.

  Barth seemed to relax a bit with the distance Garrett placed between them. He rubbed his one good eye and sighed.

  “Tell me about the day Lady Montayne disappeared,” Garrett demanded calmly.

  “I’d been having a nip behind the barn, just to tide me over, when Lady Montayne came for her horse.” He squinted, as if he could see it in his mind’s eye. “’Twas the new one, the filly with the temper. She was a bit hard for the countess to handle but Lady Montayne was determined to ride her.”

  “I remember. Go on.”

  “She was in such a hurry. She always was. Rushing me here and there, distracting me with all sorts of foolish questions. How’s a man to concentrate with all that female prattling going on? Can’t do my work properly at all, if’n you know what I mean.”

  A spasm of coughs interrupted Barth’s tale for a minute. When he recovered he said, “Then our reeve, Stephen, showed up, hurrying me. Said he had important things to do and would I please get the saddles on? He didn’t have time to be riding around with Lady Montayne anyhow.” Barth cleared his throat with a miserable sound. “Nobody appreciates me. They never did. Not Mrs. Barth, not my little ones, not no one. At least until that day. Then our reeve done owe me. He appreciated me for all my help in the matter.”

  Madeleine shuddered involuntarily. She had never liked Stephen. He’d seemed efficient in his work but she had never forgotten the pleasure he’d taken talking about the typhus running rampant through London when he’d returned from one of his trips there.

  Barth scanned his audience, seemingly pleased he had all their attention now. “Stephen told me when they began to ride hard, the girth suddenly came undone. If’n she just hadn’t rushed me, I could’ve saddled the horse properly. But, no, my lady fell from the horse when the saddle did. The horse spooked and trampled her. Crushed her skull.”

  The silent horror on the faces of those present was deafening. All had been led to believe that Lynnette had run away with some secret lover—when all along, Stanbury’s reeve had been present at her death. He’d lied to Garrett all these years, forcing his liege lord into limbo.

  She observed the tension surge through Garrett from head to toe. Madeleine wanted to call a halt to this sordid tale but she knew Garrett must hear it to the end before he could ever make peace with it.

  Barth continued, more unsure of himself now as he took in the cold looks from those gathered in the solar.

  “Stephen came and got me to help him. The countess was all broken and crumpled on the ground. He told me it was all my fault.”

  Barth’s shoulders heaved and he began to weep. “We took her jewels and buried her in the forest.”

  He raised his head toward Garrett, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In a pleading tone, he said, “We knew your temper, Lord Montayne. You’re Ryker’s son, after all. We knew we’d both be blamed. That it’d be the end of us both.”

  He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Stephen had me take my lady’s horse and ride it to London. I was to sell it there and the jewels, too. He said he’d cover for me. That I wasn’t to worry about being missed. He said he’d fix things for us both.”

  Barth smiled satisfactorily. “He were right. Nobody suspected a thing at all.” His mouth hung in a surly pose. “Until now.”

  “Do you remember where the grave is?” Garrett’s voice rang hollowly in the room.

  Barth nodded wearily.

  Garrett motioned his men-at-arms. Once again they surrounded Barth, whose pitiful sobs filled the room.

  “Ash? Take three men and find Stephen. We’ll meet up in the outer bailey.”

  He paused a moment and then said quietly, “I must see the grave. I must see it for myself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The hour grew late. Much of the household had bedded down. Madeleine had comforted Edith as best as she could before the noblewoman excused herself and went to her room.

  Madeleine left the solar and went downstairs, scanning the great hall for one of the guards that had accompanied Garrett.

  Ashby came up quietly and took her elbow. He wore a weary expression across his usually jovial face.

  “Where’s Garrett?” she whispered as he drew her away from the hall and those sleeping.

  He led her outside, where the air was briskly blowing. A full moon hung low in the sky, its golden tones bathing the inner bailey in soft light.

  “Did you find Lynnette’s grave?”

  Ashby nodded. “Yes. It was just as Barth had described. Stephen put up quite a struggle and tried to break and run when we reached the site. Garrett sent him directly to the dungeon, even before we began to dig.” He shrugged. “Barth was quite helpful. Maybe he thought Garrett would go more easily on him if he cooperated.”

  “What will Garrett do with them?”

  “I wish I knew.” He scanned the sky as if he could find the answers painted across the stars. “He’s been so angry, so bitter, for so long. Now, it seems all the fight’s gone out of him.”

  “Where is he, Ashby? I felt sure he’d come back to me.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. He supervised as the men dug up Lynnette’s body. He had her wrapped in linens and brought back inside the gates. He mentioned visiting with the priest. He wants a memorial mass first thing tomorrow for her soul.” Ashby wiped his hand across his brow, drawing her attention to the fatigue lines edging his eyes and mouth. “I thought after that he would come to you.” He took her hand. “You have done him a world of good, Madeleine. The change in him is so great. If he didn’t have you right now, I don’t know how he’d make it through these next few days.” He brushed his lips against her brow in a brotherly gesture. “Help him, Madeleine. Keep him sane.” He turned to go back inside. “Coming?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “No. I’ll sit here on the steps and think a bit.” She waited for Ashby to depart. She now knew where Garrett was and intended to go to him.

  She wrapped her arms around her for warmth, regretting that she hadn’t thought to bring a cloak with her. The wind picked up as she made her way across the meadow, awash in bright moonlight. The field felt so strange now, empty of the stalls and tents that the mummer’s troupe had brought. Summer solstice seemed so long ago.

  She picked up her pace as best she could and crossed the length of the grassland. As she approached their rock, she saw Garrett’s silhouette in the moonlight.

  He must have sensed her presence because he lifted his head and met her gaze. Even in the dim light, she could tell his face was ravaged with grief.

  Wordlessly, he slid from the rock’s surface and met her, enveloping her in the warmth of his arms. He held her close for many minutes, no words necessary between them.

  At last,
he relaxed his embrace and cocked his head to one side and with a weary smile asked, “Will you never learn to put on a cloak?”

  She half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I seem to have a knack of running into men with cloaks to spare.”

  Garrett lifted her upon the rock and climbed up beside her, opening his cloak and wrapping the comforting fabric around them both. He smelled of the outdoors, the woods, the cold, and that very masculine scent she’d come to love. She felt utterly safe within his arms.

  They stared over the empty field, neither breaking the silence that surrounded them.

  “You know,” he finally said, “Lynnette was a gentle soul. Always kind to the servants. Always willing to please everyone.” His mouth tightened. “She didn’t deserve to die that way and lie in an unmarked grave all this time.” He paused. “I’m consumed with guilt, having thought the worst of her all these years.”

  “I’m sorry, Garrett.” She pressed his hand. “You know none of this was your fault.” Madeleine wiped the single tear trailing down his cheek. “You’ve found her now. She’ll be buried properly. That’s got to be of some comfort.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I must tell Lyssa. Mayhap you can help me with that. I want everyone at Stanbury to attend the mass tomorrow. We’ll bury Lynnette in the family plot afterward.”

  “What of Barth? Stephen?”

  “It’s out of my hands.” He shook his head. “The royal circuit court will decide their fates. They’ll be held in the dungeon until the court comes around the end of next month.” Garrett sighed in the darkness. “Thank God I have you, my love.”

  Madeleine snuggled close to him, his warmth like a siren’s call to her body.

  He pressed his lips to hers tenderly. “I may have fallen in love with you at this very spot,” he told her. “I remember that kiss as if it were yesterday.”

  She shivered. She had wanted him that night more than anything—but she’d run away instead. Taking his hand in hers, she pressed a kiss to each finger. “I doubt I’ll run from you this time, my lord. You see, I love you with all my heart.”