Catherine Coulter (23 page)

“Go to sleep, Gilpin!”

Why not? Merry called out, “I did not gullet him, Gilpin, I am not an enemy.”

There was dead silence, then Gilpin stuttered out, “ ’Tis you, Merry? How can this be?”

E
veryone always knew everything, no matter the size of the keep, and so it was ridiculous to wait to come down, but she did. When she finally slithered around the final turn of the stairs, the women who saw her stopped talking. Then conversation became louder.

No hope for it. When she stepped into the great hall, Elaine looked her full in the face and gave her a big smile. Then, one by one, the other women did as well.

They didn’t mind that she’d bedded the master? Evidently not. Evidently they approved. She grinned hugely at all of them and did a little skip.

Since it was eight o’clock in the morning, all the men and soldiers had already eaten Eric the goat’s cheese and Bullic’s fresh brown bread and drunk ale, and gone outside to work, as she’d known, except for Sir Lyle. He sat alone at one of the new trestle tables. He didn’t smile when he looked at her. And there was Gilpin, sitting in the sunlit doorway, polishing Garron’s armor. She looked around the great hall, ignoring Sir Lyle. The air was sweet with lavender and honeysuckle. Lisle lightly touched her old hand to Merry’s shoulder. “Come have some fresh bread and cheese. We’ve waited for you.”

They’d waited for her? It was amazing. She felt incredibly blessed.

Women’s voices filled the hall. One of the loudest was Miggins, yelling at Gilpin to stop his flirting with the new smithy’s daughter, who was only fourteen and too innocent for the likes of him. He started whistling and winked at Miggins.

Merry laughed at his show until she realized—she was no longer innocent. It was a very strange feeling. She supposed she’d expected to look different somehow when she gazed at herself in the polished silver mirror, but she hadn’t. She should have looked tired, but she didn’t. She looked, quite simply, happy.

When she’d awakened in Garron’s bed that morning, he’d been gone, but it hadn’t mattered. She felt wonderful except for the soreness. Did he feel wonderful? Was he sore? She didn’t know how that worked.

She wondered what he was thinking, what plans he was making. Would he still insist they go to London? Had he made a list? Would he show her his list?

None of the women said a word to her about sleeping in the master’s bed the previous night. Gilpin looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and continued whistling. It was a huge relief, but she still felt embarrassed. She had given her virginity to a man who was not her husband. Surely she deserved a bit of damnation, but she didn’t care. And still, Sir Lyle watched her. He drank the rest of his ale, then lazily rose from the bench and strode over to her. “I wish to speak to you.”

“Short of covering my ears, I cannot stop you.”

“You do not wish me to speak in front of all these women.”

“Why not?”

He drew himself to his full height, not all that impressive. “I know you are not a priest’s bastard. I do not know exactly who you are, but I will know soon, and I will denounce you to Lord Garron. Even though you went to his bed, he will send you away from Wareham.”

She gave him a sunny smile. “I do not know exactly who you are either, Sir Lyle, but I will know soon and then Garron will know, and I’ll wager he’ll kill you dead.”

His face darkened with rage and his hands fisted. He looked ready to strike her down. She felt a bolt of fear, but then Miggins was standing at her side. “Here’s some sweet bread for ye, mistress, jest out of Bullic’s clean oven. I dripped a bit of honey on top.” As she spoke, Miggins slid herself between Sir Lyle and Merry.

“Thank you, Miggins.” Merry took a bite of the bread. It tasted like fear. She forced herself to swallow, and smile. “It is delicious.” All the women were listening now, leaning toward her. What would happen, she wondered, if Sir Lyle struck her? Would the women attack him? She saw them moving even closer.

“Miggins, how is your cough this morning?”

“Nearly gone, mistress, nearly gone. The potion ye gave me was powerful bad, it made my innards creak and groan.”

“That means it’s working.”
I hope
. “You must drink more this morning.”

“Oh aye, I’ll drink yer potion. Mayhap I’ll give some to Sir Lyle, mayhap it will ease his humors. Ye really should step back from the mistress.”

“She’s naught but the master’s harlot. I would not drink anything she has brewed.”

Miggins didn’t move. “Ye must needs step back from the mistress, Sir Lyle.”

“Aye, she’s a harlot. Everyone knows he took her to his bed last night.”

Miggins smiled with her three remaining teeth. “I begin to question yer brains, sirrah. Step back else ye might find yerself on yer back with all our heels digging into yer chest.”

He looked around at the sound of the women’s angry voices. He said over Miggins’s head, “This flock of vultures would not dare to touch me.”

Merry said, “Do you wish to wager your life on that, Sir Lyle? Look, Talia has a stout broom in her hands and Elaine is holding a chamber pot. Tell me, are you here for Arthur’s silver coins? How did you hear of it? Come, tell me, who told you about the silver?”

“ ’Tis you who are here for no good. ’Tis you who wish Lord Garron ill.” He spat on the reeds near her right foot, wheeled about, and walked straight into Garron.

“Sir Lyle, is something wrong?”

“Nay, my lord. I was on my way to meet with my men on the practice field.”

“Not this morning. We will leave within the hour for London. Bring two of your men with you.”

Sir Lyle merely nodded and strode out of the great hall.

“Merry! Come here!”

He looked windblown, irritated, and she was so glad to see him she skipped up to him, not difficult since Lady Anne’s gown was so short, whistling like Gilpin. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Good morning, Garron. I trust you slept well?”

He paused a moment at that smile. It was as beautiful as it was wicked. He automatically searched out the three small braids hidden in her hair. He found only two. Was that the third, nearly hidden beneath that thick plait? He raised his hand to search it out, got hold of himself, and lowered his hand back to his side. “I did not get to sleep all that much,” he said.

“Mayhap I should make both of us a sleeping potion of passion flower and woodruff, valerian too, I believe, since, like you, I did not sleep all that much either. But the truth is, my lord, when I did sleep, I nestled with the angels.” She tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I must see if such a potion is an infusion or a decoction.”

“You nestled with the Devil, more like.” He’d held her tightly against his chest until he’d awakened early that morning to the awful realization that his world had changed irrevocably and all because of this girl with her clever braids and beautiful smile. And her lists.

“The Devil, you say?” She arched an eyebrow and grinned shamelessly up at him.

“It seems Gilpin believed me to have an enemy in my chamber.”

“Do you think so? You did yell, that is—”

“Be quiet.”

“If so, the enemy seems to have laid you low.”

He wanted to laugh, but wasn’t about to. “Get yourself ready. We go to London to see the king. I would prefer to leave you here but I dare not. You might find Arthur’s silver coins and flee to Scotland.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper since every ear in the great hall was listening. “I will do just as you say. But surely, do you not think we should wed first? Then everything will be quite clear for the king.”

He spoke over her. “You will do as you’re told, do you understand me? You will keep your tongue behind your teeth. This is between me and the king. You will not interfere.”

“Let us wed first, Garron.”

“No. Besides, there is no priest here to wed us. Your sainted father was killed in the Retribution, do you not remember?”

She ignored his sarcasm because her future was at stake and she couldn’t back down. “Where does one find a priest?”

Miggins called out, “Worthward Abbey is not all that far distant, there are many priests there, praying endlessly on their scarred knees, I doubt not, the poor sots.”

“Excellent, we can be wed before nightfall.”

“No. Be quiet. Get yourself prepared.”

She didn’t like it. What was he planning to say to the king? How would he talk him around? She saw he was waiting for her to open her mouth, probably to blight her, and so she kept quiet. She was ready to beg the king on her knees to allow her to wed Garron. She was ready to spice up her offer with Arthur’s vast cache of silver coins as soon as she found it, if only he would bless their union and leave Garron’s head attached to his neck. Everything would be all right.

He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her face up and said low, his mouth not an inch from hers, his breath warm on her cheek, “You got what you wanted, but it wasn’t at all pleasant for you. Was it worth such a sacrifice?” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d felt like he’d flown off the earth and lazed around in the clouds. Even though this girl was half his size, she was dangerous. And an heiress. “Well, was it?”

She nodded. He tightened his hold on her chin. “I do not trust you. What are you planning now? You will not make a list of arguments to present to the king, do you understand me?”

“Of course I understand you, your whisper is as loud as a yell. You do realize that everyone knows I am no longer a maid. Sir Lyle called me your harlot.”

“He would not dare. You made that up because you don’t like him.”

She shrugged. “Ask Miggins.”

“Miggins as well as every other cursed female in Wareham would lie instantly for you.”

That was probably true even though she had no idea why. After all, she made them work until they could scarce stand straight at the end of the day.

“I wonder if everyone realizes it was you who came to me, that I wasn’t the rutting stoat to take your valuable virginity?”

“To ensure your continued excellent reputation, I will tell them it was I who took you.”

“Damn you, don’t make me sound like a puling little lad.”

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you know, I have wondered what would have happened had you not believed I was this cow, Blanche. Would you have continued to snore through the night rather than grab me?”

“It is quite possible, since you had no idea what to do. Why do you call her a cow? You did last night as well.”

“You said she was bountiful, more than enough for six men’s hands.”

“I did not say that.”

She nodded. “Well, mayhap not precisely that, but all that bounty makes her a cow. I know what to do now. I know everything.” And she preened, she actually preened.

He snorted. “You are still as ignorant as Eric the goat.”

She said over him, “When I see Blanche the cow, I will thank her for training you.”

Garron nearly exploded.

She patted his arm and leaned in close. “Everyone is listening. Garron, I don’t want you to worry. I have no need to write out my list, I have already memorized all my excellent points.”

“If you do not shut your mouth, I will pull up your gown and smack your white bottom, with everyone looking on, do you hear me, Merry?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he liked her white bottom since he’d kept his hands on her bottom a great deal of the previous night, but she saw he looked ready to carry out his threat. “Aye, I hear you. I must fetch us food. How long will our journey be?”

“Three days, no more, unless it rains, then it will still require three days but we will be miserable.”

She laughed and skipped away. She did not need three days to perfect her strategy because she already knew she had the most powerful ally in the realm on her side—the Queen of England.

“Miggins!”

The old woman sidled up to him. “Aye, my beautiful boy?”

Garron looked down at that ancient face. “Did Merry’s infusion work? How is your cough?”

The old woman cackled. “As dead and gone as the precious maidenhead of my sweet mistress.”

 

 

 

T
he king, Garron was told by Baron Cotswolt, was in Cornwall, visiting his uncle, the Duke of Cornwall. Robert Burnell was with him. No, the queen had not accompanied him.

Merry raised her eyes to the vaulted ceiling and thanked God for granting her fervent prayer. Before Garron could haul her off to Cornwall, Merry asked Baron Cotswolt if Queen Eleanor would see them.

Baron Cotswolt could not think of any reason to deny her, and thus he led the way to the queen’s apartments.

When Baron Cotswolt kept Garron back to question him about the Black Demon, Garron sent her a look that threatened death or dismemberment. In return, she gave him a sweet smile that made his belly curdle, and hurried into the queen’s solar. She saw the queen was nursing a babe, no surprise since it seemed to her that the queen was always nursing a new babe. She was sitting in a warm splash of sunlight, silk pillows stacked around her, humming a song Merry had written for her.

Alice of Kent met Merry at the door, eyebrows raised over beautiful green eyes. “I cannot believe it is really you. You swore you would never return. At least you are no longer a scruffy child. You have grown up well, Merry. I rather thought you would. I hear you traveled here with Garron of Kersey. It will be lovely to see him again. Tell me, how did this come about?”

How could she possibly know all this so quickly? “How very nice to see you again, Alice.” Merry was looking around for Blanche, and there she was, Merry was sure of it, her gown cut low, her mighty breasts on display, smiling at something one of the other ladies said. She was indeed bountiful. Best be sure. “Alice, who is that lady yon? She was not here when I was.”