Hostage Bride (13 page)

‘A true friend would not, but I trust no man that hath not proved himself. I was forced to entertain him but that does not mean I trust him. I never take any man at face value,’ Raphael stated bluntly.

‘Or woman either?’ Rosamunde raised her eyes to look into his. ‘I admit that I ought to have told you my intentions for courtesy’s sake, if no more, but will you admit that my position here is not clear?’

‘Come, we shall not quarrel further,’ Raphael said
and turned to his men. ‘Two of you remain, the others may return to the castle. I shall stay and help my lady gather what she needs.’

Rosamunde was surprised. ‘Surely you have other more important matters to attend?’

‘Much of what needed to be done is in hand,’ Raphael said. ‘Although there are some within the castle that I am uncertain of, most are loyal. I may need to leave you for a few days shortly. Until then I would spend some time with you, Rosamunde. I would learn who you truly are and what you think. Now, tell me what you seek.’

‘I was wondering what uses this hath,’ she said, showing him the strangely shaped fungi. ‘I am not sure whether it is poisonous or good to eat.’

‘I think that is edible,’ Raphael told her. ‘I believe my mother used to add them to soups and a mess of rabbit and turnips to add flavour.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Elspeth said. ‘It has a pinkish underside and is safe to eat, but there is a similar cap with a black underside that would make you very ill if you ate it.’

‘We call that one the death cap,’ Rosamunde said and added the fungi she’d picked to her basket. ‘I was hoping we might find blackberries but I think it may be too late.’

‘I know my mother sometimes found late berries around here,’ Raphael said and looked about him. ‘We are not far from a pleasant clearing. If there are any, it is there that we shall find them.’

‘I shall leave you to pick fungi here,’ Rosamunde
said to Elspeth. ‘We shall explore a little further and see if there are any blackberries to be found. Follow us when you are ready.’

With her basket on her right arm, Rosamunde took Raphael’s arm with her left and smiled up at him.

‘Tell me, my lord, did you often come foraging with your mother?’

‘Not often enough,’ he replied. ‘I was mostly set to learning my Latin verbs or training with my father’s men, but sometimes I escaped. We always came a-maying together and in the autumn we would gather nuts and blackberries. I remember a fine liqueur she made from elderberries and we also gathered sloes for preserves and wine.’

‘And then you became a squire and went on crusade?’

‘After my mother died things changed. I did not exactly quarrel with my father, but we hardly spoke to one another. I believe now that he was grieving for her, but I did not understand him and thought that I alone felt the pain of her loss,’ Raphael admitted.

‘Perhaps it was because he lost you both that he became so bitter,’ she suggested.

‘Yes, perhaps—but a man must conquer his bitterness. Pain and grief does not give one the right to inflict suffering on others,’ he said sadly.

Rosamunde saw something in his eyes then that made her wonder. She did not pursue the subject but pointed to a clump of plants.

‘Horseradish, my lord. Take your knife and see if you can pull up a root or two. It will sharpen the palate and
is delicious with roasted beef, and also in cream with fresh fish.’

Raphael bent, took his knife from its sheath and dug into the earth, bringing her two large roots.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, their hands brushing as he passed it to her.

‘You are very beautiful, lady.’ He leaned his head down, his lips brushing hers softly. ‘I had almost forgot how pleasant it was to pass time this way.’

Rosamunde cast her eyes down. His kiss was very different from the last he’d given her—soft, even tender, instead of punishing. It made her heart leap but she tried to hide her feelings for she must not let him see how his kiss affected her. Although he did his best to make her feel she was his guest, she knew that she was in truth a hostage and at the mercy of his whims.

‘You spoke of leaving—may I ask why, my lord?’ she asked.

‘I must speak with other lords of like mind,’ he told her. ‘My business is important, or I would keep my word and take you to your home, but I shall not forget you.’

‘You must do as you think fit, sir. A man has his work and a woman hers. I am content to wait, as long as my father wants for nothing.’

‘I shall dispatch someone very soon to make sure he has all he wants. I apologise that I have not already done this; I have been exceedingly busy,’ Raphael said ruefully.

‘May I make a suggestion?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘You have a man in your service—his name is Ferdie and he is promised to Beth, one of my women,’ she said.

Raphael’s eyebrows arched. ‘You wish me to send them—why?’

‘Because my father still has a little land but it is neglected. I will grant Ferdie the right to work the land for himself and his family. In return he will see that my father has food and his wife will tend my father on his sickbed.’

‘And if your father should die?’

‘Then they may continue in possession of the land on payment of a fair rent,’ she announced.

‘Will you set your hand to such a document?’ he asked.

‘Yes, if your scribe will draw it for us—and you will bear witness to the bargain.’

‘Do you not think your husband might perhaps wish to claim the land?’ he pressed.

‘I do not expect to marry. I have no dowry worth the notice of a knight, and would rather remain unwed than take the yeoman my cousin would have me wed,’ she said honestly.

‘You give away what little you have very easily,’ he murmured.

‘I had plans to raise a few pigs, and perhaps take in sewing, but I could not plough the land nor afford to pay others. The rent I require will be little enough—merely some corn to make bread and perhaps a few coins, whatever is fair. My cousin promised me fifty gold talents if I brought the ransom to you in her place. I think she
might have refused to pay me when the time came, but since you are not intending to keep the ransom money she sent I may keep what I am owed and return the rest to her.’

‘Why should you not keep all of it?’

‘That would be dishonest, sir. I am no thief.’

‘No, I see that, my lady.’ Raphael looked thoughtful. ‘When I escort you home we shall call on your cousin and return what is owed. If she demands the fifty talents back, I shall protect you from her anger.’

‘You are generous, sir. While you are away I should like to begin stocking your shelves with preserves. Would you have your steward send to market for anything that we need?’ she asked.

‘Of course. You have only to ask. I am grateful for the work you do. I believe my home is in sore need of a woman’s touch.’

‘Your wife will supply it when you marry,’ she said quietly.

‘
If
I marry. I am not certain that I shall—or not for some years. In time I should perhaps think of an heir, but it is not urgent just yet for I am in good health,’ he said, suddenly looking sombre once more.

Rosamunde glanced away. She wondered why he had no plans to marry but would not ask. It was not her business to press for details that were clearly private.

Her gaze moved away, and suddenly she saw the little cluster of fruit. She gave a glad cry and ran to the bush where a patch of plump blackberries was growing; she stretched up in delight, picking a lush berry. She popped it into her mouth and sighed with pleasure.

‘There is nothing like the first blackberry of the year,’ she said as he bent one knee and knelt beside her. ‘You must taste the treat, my lord.’ She pulled a ripe fruit and held it to him, placing it on his tongue as he obediently opened his mouth. ‘Crush it against the roof of your mouth and let the flavour flood out before you swallow.’

He smiled and followed her advice, nodding agreement. ‘There is nothing to compare with the special sharp and yet sweet flavour of these, unless it is a wild strawberry.’

‘We must pick them very carefully. Added to other fruits, these will make a wonderful conserve. My ladies and I will make quince and plum jams, also blackberry and apple conserve—and if we can find them we shall make pickled walnuts and almond paste for the feast at Christ’s Mass.’

‘I am not certain that we have walnuts or almonds here—but there should be hazelnuts at the edge of the clearing,’ he offered.

‘I think there is a clump of bushes over there.’ Rosamunde pointed and they moved towards the far side of the clearing to harvest the small nuts.

Raphael helped pick the fruit, then, when their baskets were filled to the brim, they smiled and sat on a fallen tree, enjoying the pale sun that filtered through the canopy. The sound of voices and laughter heralded the arrival of the two serving women and the men-at-arms.

More fruit and berries were found at the edge of the clearing. For some minutes laughter and chattering
voices echoed through the clearing. Sun was shining through the trees, the air crisp and sweet with the scents of autumn.

Looking about her at the smiling faces, Rosamunde was aware of a feeling of happiness that had been lacking from her life for many a year. The thought crossed her mind that it would be pleasant to live this way, enjoying the pleasures of a simple life with people she cared for.

‘A silver penny for your thoughts?’

Raphael’s teasing voice close to her ear sent a tingle running down her spine. She shook her head, because her thoughts had been foolish and must remain her own. They were merely fancy, a whimsical dream on an unseasonably warm day.

‘Oh, they are worth far more,’ she replied teasingly, and laughed softly. ‘I thank you for a lovely morning, my lord. It is time we returned to the castle, for the sooner the fruits of our labour are put to work the better.’

* * *

‘I must leave soon if I am to persuade others to contribute to the ransom for Richard.’ Raphael toyed with the stem of his wine cup as he looked at Sir Jonathan across the table in his private chamber. He had been considering how best to protect Rosamunde whilst he was gone. His friend was the best man he knew to care for both the lady and his castle. ‘Will you remain here to see that the men do not neglect their training—and watch over the lady Rosamunde?’

‘Of course. I have no family awaiting my return and shall stay to celebrate with you this Christ’s Mass. One day I must buy land and a house and marry, but for the moment I am content to serve you. I shall keep the men to their work—but what of the lady? Do you not fear that she will try to leave when you are gone?’ his friend asked.

‘She has given her word not to leave whilst I am absent. I believe she understands that she is vulnerable without my protection. Give her as much freedom as possible, but she is not to leave the castle grounds without at least three men to guard her,’ Raphael warned.

‘Do you fear an abduction?’

‘I think Prince John might take her prisoner if he could—and Baron Sigmund respects no woman and would use her for his own pleasure. She ought in all conscience to be wed. ‘Tis the only safe estate for a woman as fair as she,’ Raphael mused.

‘And what does the lady mean to you?’ his friend asked pointedly.

‘She is under my protection, nothing more. Why do you ask?’ he said defensively.

‘I thought you might have plans to wed her,’ the other man murmured.

‘My wife has been dead hardly a year. It is too soon to think of such things. I hinted to Baron Sigmund that I might wed Rosamunde to show him that he had no hope of her, but I had not truly thought of it.’

Even as he spoke, Raphael knew that he was not telling
the whole truth. The idea had been forming at the back of his mind ever since that morning, but it was foolish. She would do better with Sir Jonathan. After all, Raphael had found Messalina’s love restricting. He had chafed at the bonds she’d put on him, and no doubt it would be the same with Rosamunde. The lady deserved more than he could give her.

‘Yet I sense something between you,’ Jonathan continued. ‘The men suspect you intend marriage, and I think it pleases them, because if you marry an Englishwoman you will settle here.’

‘Perhaps.’ Raphael sipped his wine and looked into his cup, a brooding expression in his eyes. It would be best to speak out now rather than let a breach grow between himself and his friend. He brought his gaze up to meet Jonathan’s. ‘I suspect you have an interest here, my friend?’

‘I shall not deny I find the lady enchanting. We have spoken only rarely, but she seems true of purpose and steadfast. I think she would make a good wife for any man.’

Raphael hesitated. ‘If you care for her, I shall not stand in your way, should she wish to wed you.’

‘Alas, I do not think the lady has noticed me,’ Jonathan said ruefully. ‘But I would not see her hurt, Raphael. If you cannot offer her anything, you should not give her false hope.’

‘Have I done so?’ he asked, alarmed.

‘You alone can answer that, my friend. I meant no
insult, but she is innocent and lovely, and I think hath little family to support her.’

‘Perhaps
you
should offer her marriage.’ Raphael’s gaze narrowed, needing to hear Jonathan’s answer.

‘As yet I hardly know the lady, but if I thought she would be happy as my wife I should not be averse to the idea,’ his friend said placidly.

‘I wish you good fortune,’ Raphael muttered and drained his cup. He did not understand his own reaction to Jonathan’s interest in Rosamunde. She would be safe and content as his friend’s wife; after all, he had no plans to wed himself. Yet there was a small voice at the back of his mind that protested she must not marry anyone but Raphael. No; that was foolish and selfish. He knew that he had cared for Messalina as much as he could probably care for any woman, yet he’d tugged at the bonds of marriage, resenting her clinging ways. He was being unfair to both Jonathan and Rosamunde to be unhappy at the possibility of a relationship between them. ‘Do whatever you think best, my friend, but keep her safe. Now, I must make my final inspection before we sup. Do you care to come with me?’