Sworn Loyalty - A Medieval Romance (17 page)

The room burst into applause, and it was a long minute before it quieted for Lynessa’s voice to be heard.

“That was wonderful, dear Mary. And just perfect, too! For I could not follow Erik into the Holy Land, and I waited eagerly for his return to me.”

She gave a low laugh, and Mary looked up. Lynessa was turning to Erik, smiling up at him. “Although I did of course know
why
you left me,” she added. “It was all your mother’s fault, and that insane declaration of hers. To think, that it took you this long to regain what was rightfully yours! We could have been here ten years ago, side by side, if not for her.”

There was a flicker of emotion lighting his eyes, and then it was gone, and he was nodding at her. “Of course.”

Lynessa reached into the pouch at her side and withdrew a small coin, flicking it toward Mary. “For your delightful song,” she offered with a chuckle.

Mary caught it deftly, then bowed again, returning to her seat between the two men.

Bronson gave a scoffing laugh. “What’d she give you? A piece of tin?”

Mary turned the coin around in her fingers. The markings on it seemed odd. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve not seen one like this before.”

Sander took a glance, and then gave a low laugh. “That’s ‘cause it’s from the Holy Land,” he explained. “Worth less than nothing until you get Caradoc to change it into proper money for you. She’s reminding you that you’re hers until we return to Caradoc.” He glanced at Bronson. “It’s all she’s paying us in, for the same reason. Even though she has plenty of good English money up in that chest of hers as well.”

Mary’s heart pounded against her ribs. Lynessa was traveling with large amounts of money? Including money from the Holy Land? That could be much harder to explain away. This could offer proof that the theft of Erik’s money had all been a ploy – surely that would be enough for him?

Her brow creased. “You say the money is in her chest?”

Bronson nodded his head. “It sure is. Why?”

She could hardly admit that she’d already picked the lock and found nothing within.

Her mind sought for another approach. “Isn’t that risky? What if a maid came in while Lady Lynessa was selecting out some clothing from the chest, and the maid saw all the foreign money?”

Bronson looked uncertain. “I’m not sure I should –”

She leant against him. “I am one of you,” she purred. “We are all in this together. The more I know, the more I can help!”

His face flushed. “Right, of course, together,” he murmured, looking down at her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “There is a secret compartment in its base. That way Erik has no chance of finding it.”

Her eyes lit up. “How does it open?”

He patted her on the arm. “Don’t you worry about that. Just know that we’ll be well paid when this is all through, and I can support you in a manner of which you’ve only dreamed.”

Sander leant over with a gleam in his eye. “Mutton every night!” he promised. “Ale that flows eternally!” He dropped an arm around her shoulder.

There was a movement from across the hall. Michael had drawn to his feet. His face made it clear that either she either extricate herself immediately or he would come over and do it for her.

She looked up between the two men, tingeing her gaze with reluctance. “I’m afraid it’s time for me to head into the kitchens again. With all the excitement over Lady Lynessa’s presence, we are worked until we drop right now.”

Bronson’s smile faded. “There’s no chance of you getting away?”

She shook her head. “Not tonight, but I will be all yours tomorrow afternoon,” she pointed out.

His smile returned at that, and she was able to draw away from them. It took all her strength of will not to look up to the head table, not to soak in one last glimpse of Erik before heading to her lonely mat in the corner of the pantry.

Chapter 12

Rain thrummed on the roof of the chapel, nearly drowning out the priest’s rumbling voice. Mary looked at her hands, willing away the frustration that roiled like a spring river. Clearly there would be no riding today, and her hopes of dragging more information out of the degenerate duo would have to be postponed. And that gave Lynessa even more time to seduce Erik with her clever wiles.

Mary’s thoughts spun in circles around that chest in Lynessa’s room, despair seeming to envelop her at every turn. Lynessa seemed to have a plan for everything. Even if Mary did find her way in to those coins, and presented them to Erik, what would Lynessa say? Perhaps that she had found the thief, and had been planning to give the money back to Erik as a wedding present, as a delightful way to start their new life together?

Shadows wrapped themselves around Mary until she could barely see the candles flickering along the side wall or the wooden cross hanging at the far end of the altar. She barely heard as the priest finished his sermon. Out of habit she slid from the pew, pulled her cloak hood up over her head, and plodded her wet, weary way across the courtyard and through the open gate. She turned left, walked the length of the main wall, and then made her way up the small hill to where a low stone wall marked the perimeter of the cemetery.

Lady Cartwright, of course, had the most elaborate grave marking Mary had ever seen or heard of. A slab of stone covered the entire top of the grave, carved with praise in Latin and crossed swords engraved at the front. A statue of a guardian angel stood at the head, his hands holding a sword point-down, his face stern and defiant.

Mary moved to the row of flowers planted in the space between the angel’s feet and the start of the stone slab. The snowdrops were just beginning to bloom, with the steady shower of rain adding a glistening light to them. Mary tended to them with focus, cleaning dirt off of one, lifting stray grasses off another.

At last she sat back on her heels, looking up at the stern angel. Somewhere up there Lady Cartwright was staring down at her, scowling at her, wondering why Erik’s assigned guardian angel was failing him.

Her tears mingled with the falling rain as desolation poured through her. She put a hand out to the slick stone, laying her fingers on the sword, desperately praying for the strength to see this through.

A woman’s voice came from behind her. “And what are you doing here?”

Mary turned in surprise; this had always been her quiet time of contemplation. Who would be interrupting her?

Lynessa and Erik stood side by side in the rain, staring at her from beneath their hoods. Their faces were lost in the shadows.

Mary flushed and stood. Her mind raced to think of an excuse for why she was here. “The cook said she normally came out to pay her respects for the grave,” she stammered, “but with the rain she is feeling poorly. So she asked me to come out for her.”

Lynessa’s mouth turned down. “Well, you’ve done as she asked,” she snapped. “Erik here would like some time alone with his mother now.” She slid her arm through Erik’s, and her eyes brightened. “And I shall remain, of course.”

Mary dropped her eyes, unwilling to look into his, and gave a short nod before scurrying past them.

The hall was packed full of people when she wearily pushed her way through the main doors, and the ale was already flowing. Normally Mary would have relished a rainy day of fun and carousing, but the thought of Bronson and Sander man-handling her all afternoon turned her stomach. She slipped her way down into the kitchens, tucking into a corner and making herself useful cutting carrots and turnips.

The hours dragged on, the shadows lengthened, and at last the main meal began. She poked her head into the main hall – and sighed. The two men were laughing uproariously at some jest, their red cheeks and noses clear signs of just how much they had consumed over the afternoon. She squared her shoulders. She could get through this.

The men’s eyes lit up in delight as she approached them, and a place for her was immediately cleared. Bronson wrapped a beefy arm around her waist. “There you are! We were about to go searching for you! That cook can’t keep you busy forever.”

Sander leant over to fill her mug to the very brim. “Drink up!” he insisted. “You are at least twelve mugs behind us already!

She reached forward to grab a warm loaf of bread and ate a bite before downing some of her ale. “So, no gambling today, I take it?”

Bronson shook his head, his eyes warm on her. “That’s fine, the rain should let up tomorrow.” He raised his mug in a toast. “Then Lynessa goes out on her quest, and we head downstairs for ours. We’ll get every coin possible out of these sheep before we leave.” He drank down his mug in one long draw.

Mary shot a glance at Michael, who was glaring at her with steady focus. “Are you sure Lynessa will appreciate you fleecing her flock?”

Bronson gave a low laugh. “With all she is getting for her end of the bargain, she can hardly complain,” he growled. “And besides, she wants her soldiers poor and needy. That way they are more dependent on her and her generosity. The more they need her, the less she can pay them and still know they’ll stick around.”

Sander poured her glass full again. “That’s right,” he chimed in. “She’ll want them as destitute as possible on her, willing to do anything she asks. That’s the way she is.”

Bronson draped an arm across her shoulder, pulling her in. “So we want to get as much as we can out of them tomorrow, because it won’t be long now, my darling. And then you’ll be all ours.”

A deep voice rang out from the head table. “Singer!”

Mary’s heart quickened at Erik’s call, and she pulled herself free of Bronson. Gathering up her tambourine, she made her way across the open floor to stand before the head table. She kept her eyes lowered. “What do you wish of me, M’Lord?”

There was a long pause, and finally she looked up. He was standing at the table, looking down at her, his eyes shadowed, his face almost a mask.

The words slipped from him, as if beyond his control. “Tell me your plan.”

She paled. “My plan, M’Lord?”

He gave a small shake of his head, and after a moment his voice rumbled out in a steadier tone. “For tonight’s entertainment.”

She let out her breath. “Oh. I suppose it is Sunday, so I should sing something appropriate.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, lowering himself to retake his seat.

She spun in a slow circle, drawing her eyes across the audience as she went.

“Lully, lullay, lully, lullay,

The falcon has borne my mate away.

He bore him up, he bore him down,

He bore him into an orchard brown.”

As she sang the melancholy tune, she felt the longing of the song, felt the ache in her heart. She gave a shimmer with her tambourine to cover her emotions.

“In that orchard there was an hall

That was hanged with purple and pall.

And in that hall there was a bed:

It was hanged with gold so red.”

Her throat closed up, but she forced herself to sing, to swirl. Her performance had to be perfect. Erik’s life depended on it.

“And in that bed there laid a knight,

His wounds were bleeding day and night.”

She could remember vividly receiving the letters that told of Erik’s being in battle, of his serious injuries. She recalled how her heart had been pierced with worry. To think of all he had endured …

“By that bedside knelt a maid,

 Weeping for him night and day.”

Mary knew the song was religious, was about places and people greater than herself, but the ache in her heart was for one man alone.

“By that bedside stands a stone:

Corpus Christi written thereon.”

Mary dropped to a deep curtsy before the table.

There was a long silence, then the room burst into applause and cheers. Mary held her pose, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. At last she felt it safe to rise, to look up at the pair before her.

Lynessa was leaning forward with a wide grin. “Why, Mary, I think you have touched Erik deeply! I never knew him to be such a religious man.” She turned to Erik with a smile. “Why, maybe you will have visit Jerusalem at some point!”

Erik’s gaze was steady. “I was stationed there for four years.”

Lynessa’s eyes widened with surprise. “You were?” Then she blinked, coughed, and her confusion slid into smug assurance as easily as a swallow turned in flight. “Oh, of course, I was only teasing,” she insisted. “Your letters were quite touching. Maybe sometime we can go together and enjoy a restful vacation there.”

Mary stared at her as if she had lost her mind. Surely Lynessa had a different definition for “restful” and “vacation” that Mary was previously unfamiliar with.

Erik calmly held Lynessa’s gaze. “If you feel my time in Jerusalem was restful, then we could also visit that city I helped lay siege to.”