Hostage Bride (18 page)

‘His only crime was to speak out against unfairness, my lord. I believe he meant to bring you the lady Rosamunde. She was being held against her will and would have left willingly,’ the knight lied.

The baron’s eyes gleamed. ‘Now, that would have been a gift worth having. What makes you think Edmund is dead?’

‘I ventured near to the castle under cover of darkness and—’ Sir Ian swallowed hard ‘—I heard a detachment of men talking of his trial as they patrolled the ramparts. They were jesting, laughing and taking bets against the outcome and his punishment.’

‘Sir Edmund is my kinsman,’ Sigmund said. ‘He was the eldest son of my mother’s brother and his second wife. I offered him a place here but he was feathering his nest well in the old Lord Mornay’s service. If he is dead it means a blood feud between our two families. Sir Raphael gave his bond and I gave mine—but if my cousin has been foully slain that is all at an end.’

‘I dare not re-enter the castle to discover the outcome, for I might have been taken too. I thought it best to come to you, my lord,’ Sir Ian said.

‘You did well, Sir Ian. You may enter my service if you will. But learn this now: I do not suffer traitors gladly. If I discover you have lied to me, I shall show you no mercy.’

Sir Ian bowed low, hiding his look of satisfaction. He had not even stopped to look back as he made his escape, let alone return to the castle, but he thought his lies lent colour to his story. The baron might not have taken him in if he’d known that he had deserted his kinsman, leaving Sir Edmund to sink or swim alone. Nor would the baron offer him service here if he knew that Sir Ian had stolen precious items from his overlord. His tale was nothing but lies, but there was no one here to disprove them. If Sir Edmund escaped and came here, they would stick to their story, but if he were dead Baron Sigmund would take his revenge on Sir Raphael. That suited him very well. He knew all the secrets of Mornay’s castle and for certain considerations would share them with the baron.

* * *

Rosamunde spent the next few days working in the stillroom, making cures for simple ailments that she’d learned from her mother. There were lotions to cleanse festering wounds, balms to ease soreness and itching—which was a common complaint—and mixtures to help sickness and fever or a sore throat.

After the preparations were complete, she told Mellors
that she was ready to treat any man in the castle who had an ailment that bothered him. For most of one day she and her women dispensed cures to the men-at-arms and the servants, many of whom had nasty rashes and blistered skin.

She talked to Elspeth afterwards, and they decided that the rashes might be caused by flea bites. The next day an inspection was made of all the bedding in the castle. Mattresses were dragged out and burned, linen and blankets taken to vats to be washed by servants and new straw provided for fresh pallets.

‘I think it is years since the bedding was changed,’ Mellors said. ‘Some of the men may have found new bedding for themselves, but most did not bother.’

‘In future the men are ordered to cleanse themselves all over at least once a week,’ Rosamunde announced. ‘And the linen will be washed once a week in summer and once a month in winter. The mattresses will be renewed every year in the spring. It should help to ease the discomfort suffered by so many of the men.’

‘You have turned the household upside down,’ Mellors told her with a nod of approval. ‘Many of the men come from poor families and do not realise that keeping themselves and their clothes clean can bring benefits to their health. They are born in the villages and are used to sharing their homes with their pigs and goats.’

‘In the winter it is often the only way to keep warm for many families,’ Rosamunde agreed. ‘We should lead by example, Mellors. If the men notice a lessening in
their discomfort, they may decide it is worth a little extra trouble.’

‘You are certainly an example to others,’ the steward told her admiringly. ‘You have scarcely stopped working since you came here.’

‘It is my pleasure to be busy,’ Rosamunde replied. ‘We shall begin to salt meat for the winter months now. It will give us employment for a few days and keep us from going short of food when the huntsman cannot find game and the ground is frozen.’

She did not add that the only way she could get through the days was to work. Yet the days were only a part of her problem. Her nights were spent tossing and turning in her bed, tortured by the memory of what had passed between them the last time she had spoken to Raphael. She had been in distress and her words were harsh. She had hurt him with her accusations and her coldness towards him. Since then she had never ceased to wish that she could take back the angry words. Each day seemed longer than a week and she counted them dearly, longing for his return.

What would he say to her when he eventually returned? Would he still wish to break the vows they had taken?

Sometimes when she lay in bed she feared that she would never see Raphael again. Where was he? What was he doing, and did he ever think of her?

* * *

Why could he not put the wench from his mind and be done with it? Raphael swore as he paced the floor of
his chamber. The night seemed long and, as ever when he was alone, his thoughts had turned to Rosamunde. He was staying with a lord loyal to the King and had been assured of his assistance. Baron Essien was the descendent of a Saxon thane, but his family had intermarried with the lords of Normandy and he had become rich and powerful in this part of the country.

‘I shall bring a dozen lords and their followers with me when the time comes,’ he had promised. ‘As soon as Richard returns we shall rise for him, and Prince John’s tyrants will be arrested and thrown out of office.’

‘I have heard of an outlaw in these parts,’ Raphael had said. ‘He is called Rob-in-Hood by some, because he lives in the forest of Sherwood and wears the chaperone and clothes of the peasants and serfs. But some say he is in truth Robin, Earl of Loxley. If this is true, he is a man I once knew. He served Richard well and I cannot believe he has become a thief and murderer, as the prince would have him.’

‘I cannot say either way,’ Baron Essien had said and frowned. ‘I have heard that such a man exists and that he robs anyone foolish enough to venture into the forest. It is not the first time tales of this nature have spread amongst the common folk, but who can tell if there is truly such a man in Sherwood Forest?’

‘It was in my mind to travel that way as I return home,’ Raphael had mentioned casually.

‘I would think that foolish,’ the baron had said. ‘But it is your choice. You may lose your gold and your armour,

for I’ve heard that this man uses many tricks to prey on the unwary.’

‘Yet, if he is indeed the Earl of Loxley, he might help us when the time comes. Richard will need all the support he can muster, for otherwise the prince may prevail. He has his own men in positions of power throughout England and Richard will have only a small escort when he arrives,’ Raphael had pointed out.

‘Men will rally to him from all parts of the land. We are all heartily sick of Prince John’s tyranny,’ the baron had replied.

Raphael ceased his restless pacing. He had rallied support in the areas he considered the prince’s stronghold and the words he’d heard from various lords had been reassuring. If most kept their word, the King would be welcomed on his return—yet still there was a chance that Richard might be murdered before his lords could rally to him. If this outlaw existed, and was merely a thief and a murderer, as the prince had named him, Raphael might never see his home again. But it would be worth the risk to speak with him. If he were indeed the man Raphael hoped, then only good could come of it. He would venture alone into the forest, sending his men on ahead of him by another route.

Would
she
miss him if anything happened to him? A wry smile touched his mouth. She had a fiery temper when roused, but then so did he. They had exchanged harsh words before he’d left—but she was his betrothed, and this separation had shown Raphael that he could not contemplate a future without her.

* * *

He had no intention of giving her up to another man. If she wished to break the vows she had given, she must take the opportunity to run away while he was absent. Yet even then he knew he would go after her and bring her back. For good or evil, Rosamunde had taken root in his heart, and he did not intend to lose her.

‘Is it wise to ride alone into the forest, my lord?’ Janquil asked, looking at him with dark, anxious eyes. ‘Let me come with you, to protect your back.’

‘You must go with the others,’ Raphael told him. ‘If I do not keep the appointment with you that we have agreed on, you must presume the worst and go on to my castle. Swear to me that if that happens you will protect my lady.’

‘I swear that I will give my life for hers if need be,’ Janquil vowed.

‘Then I am content,’ Raphael said and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do not look so downcast, my friend. I am certain nothing will happen to me.’

‘The lady would break her heart if you were killed, my lord.’

‘Would she? I wonder.’ Raphael shook his head. ‘If what I’ve heard is true, there is nothing to fear. Go with the others now and do not give up hope, for truly I bear a charmed life.’

Janquil bowed his head, turned his horse and rode to join the other men. At the crossroads they parted. Raphael was to ride alone into the heart of a forest
some thought haunted, and others said was inhabited by a band of outlaws.

Weak sunlight was filtering through the canopy. Raphael saw a woodlark high above trilling its song and heard noises in the undergrowth as small animals went about their business. All seemed peaceful and quiet, no sign of either evil spirits or outlaws. He was beginning to think that the tales were all a myth when a missile thudded into a tree trunk just to the side of him. As he gentled his startled horse, he heard bloodcurdling cries and then he was surrounded by men, several of whom held bows, the arrows trained on him.

‘I come in peace,’ he said. ‘If you are Robin Hood’s men, I would have words with him.’

‘Bring him down,’ one of the men said and the other men flung themselves at his horse, hands grabbing him and hauling him to the ground where he lay for a moment looking up at them.

‘This is foolish,’ Raphael said. ‘I come in peace to speak with your leader on a matter of importance.’

‘Tie him and take his horse and gold,’ the man who appeared to be their leader said. ‘We’ll leave him here for his friends to find.’

‘No, let’s take him with us. Blindfold him. Robin may wish to speak with him,’ another said.

‘Nay, ‘tis a trick to find our camp. We’ll take what he has and leave him here,’ the leader replied.

‘No! I have no friends nearby and if you bind me I shall die here.’ Raphael struggled, throwing off three
of the men that were attempting to hold him. He hit out with his fists but then a crushing blow from behind sent him senseless to the ground.

* * *

‘We should go to look for my lord,’ Janquil said as the men debated what to do. The appointed time had passed and Raphael had not come to meet with them. ‘If we ride on now, he may be injured or dying and alone in the forest. We should look for him.’

‘His orders were to wait here one day only and then ride on to Mornay,’ Sir James reiterated. ‘Raphael would be angry if he returned to the castle and we were still out searching for him. He may have other plans.’

‘Aye, we should obey his orders,’ one of the others said. ‘Our duty now is to the castle and the lady Rosamunde. Sir Jonathan will decide if a search party should return to look for him.’

‘It may be too late then,’ Janquil warned. ‘I think my lord is in danger. I shall go alone if you will not come with me.’

‘Lord Mornay ordered you to serve his lady,’ Sir James growled. ‘You gave your word—will you break it now?’

Janquil stared at him. Torn between his loyalty to his lord and the promise he had given, his anguish was plain to see. ‘What of my lord?’ he finally wailed.

‘Raphael can look after himself. We should obey his orders or he will be most angry. If he is dead, it will be harder to defend the castle. His enemies will strike quickly and try to take it from us. This is why my lord
wished us to return. Without him, the castle needs a leader and will be vulnerable. We must expect attacks,’ Sir James explained.

‘We go on,’ the men said in a murmur of agreement.

Janquil saw they would not be swayed. Alone, he would be of little use to Raphael. He was not a fighting man and his skills were to blend into the background, watch and wait. He had promised Raphael that he would protect the lady and it might be that he could be of more use to his lord at the castle.

Reluctantly, he rode at the back of the small train, feeling as if his heart were being torn from his body. Instinct told him that his lord was in terrible danger but alone there was little he could do but pray to his god that his master would return safely.

* * *

Rosamunde tasted the wine they had made from elderflowers and smiled as Elspeth poured it into flasks. As the days and weeks had passed, she had come to like and trust the woman’s judgment, knowing that she had found a true friend. Life here was good. If only Raphael would return.

‘It has a pleasant flavour. The herb you added has given it more taste. I should not have thought of it,’ Rosamunde remarked.

‘It was a recipe Lady Mornay loved. I helped her many times to prepare various wines. In a few weeks this will have matured and be stronger, but it is refreshing on the tongue when first made,’ Elspeth said.

‘Do you know if Lady Mornay had a journal of her
recipes? I should very much like to have it, for I am certain it could teach me much.’

‘I do not know, my lady. Perhaps it might be amongst my lady’s things. You should ask Mellors.’

‘Yes, I shall, for I should like to see it. Indeed, I should have liked to know my lord’s mother,’ Rosamunde murmured.

‘She was a lovely…’ Elspeth’s words died away as the door of the stillroom opened and Lilia came rushing in. ‘Be careful you do not knock something over. Whatever is the matter, daughter?’