The Baker's Boy (62 page)

"So that is
what you are after, eh?" Maybor smiled with satisfaction. "And what
if I were to attain such a position for you?"

"I would be
most grateful to your lordship." She curtsied low, showing off her bosom
to its best advantage.

"You are
indeed a bewitching wench. I think we shall have a most pleasing time
together." He laid a hand on her cheek. "Be waiting in my room at
sundown one night hence. I will have secured you a position by then." He
moved forward and kissed her full on the lips. "Until the morrow."
Lilly pulled away, knowing full well that nothing fired desire in a man more
than a show of virtue.

She watched as
Lord Maybor walked away, his cloak flapping in the wind. Once he was out of
sight she pulled the object he had given her from her breast. It was a stone: a
beautiful honey-colored topaz. She laughed merrily and skipped her way back to
the castle.

Jack awoke with a
start. He had been having a bad dream. He sat up and looked around. He had no
idea where he was. He was in a kitchen, there was something cooking on the
fire, and bright copper pots hung from the rafters. An old woman came into the
room.

"Well, it's
about time you were awake, young man. You slept all night and the better part
of a day. Here, let me look how your shoulder's doing." The woman bent
over him and he pulled the blanket close around himself. "There's no need
to be shy with me, boy. I'm too old to put up with such modesty." She
pulled the blanket from him and looked at his shoulder. Jack tried to see what
she was looking at, but it was too painful for him to move his neck.
"They're both doing nicely. I did a good job, if I do say so myself."
The woman made her way to the fire. "I suppose you'll be hungry. I'll fix
you a spot of dumpling stew."

"Who are
you?" Jack tried to recall how he had come to be here. He remembered being
chased by Baralis' men and then he had seen Melli get shot. "Where's
Melli?" He tried to stand up, but his legs were too weak.

"Calm down,
lad. The girl has gone outside for a touch of air."

"How is
she?" He vividly remembered seeing an arrow jutting out from Melli's arm.

"Oh, fine.
She's doing a lot better than you area The arrow came out nice and clean."
The woman handed him a bowl of stew. "Here, lad, eat this. It will build
your strength up." Jack took the bowl and began to eat. He tried to
remember what had happened after Melli was shot. He had been angry-angry about
being chased, hurting from the sting of an arrow, furious when they shot Melli.
His mind showed images of destruction, of men being flung from their horses, of
saplings being uprooted. He dismissed them; they had been part of his
nightmare. How had he come to be here? How had they escaped from the mercenaries?

"Hello,
Jack." Melli walked in the door. "How are you?"

"What
happened . . ." Jack realized he did not even know what day it was.

"During the
hunting accident, you mean?" Melli looked relieved to hear his voice, but
warned him with a flash of her eyes not to contradict her. "Well, I think
you went into shock. You lost a lot of blood. We were too far away to take you
home, but I managed to bring you here and this kind lady offered her
help."

"Where are
we?"

"Oh, we're
just off the eastern road."

Jack could hardly
believe what he had been told. When the men had attacked they had been leagues
away from the road. How had Melli managed to bring him all this way? The old
woman obviously decided to leave them alone to talk. She took her leave,
muttering about pigs to feed.

"Tell me what
happened, MOIL" He looked at her and found she could not meet his eyes.

"I don't know
what happened. One minute we were being chased, the next--" she made a
small gesture with her hands "-there was chaos. It looked like a blast of
air. It knocked everyone from their horses."

"And us. What
happened to us?" Jack began to tremble as his nightmare solidified into
reality. "Melli, what about us?"

"We weren't
touched." She looked down at the floor. The truth hung between them,
unspoken. Both he and Melli knew what had happened. Both knew that he was
responsible. Jack realized it was time to accept what he was. He was more than
just a baker's boy; there was a force within him that set him apart. Although
it was unasked for, he still had to learn to live with the consequences. Twice
he had caused things to happen, twice he had changed the course of events.
There was blood on his hands now.

"Jack, we'll
get away," said Melli, as if reading his thoughts. "We'll go
somewhere far from here, where Baralis will never be able to find us
again." Melli paused for a moment, thinking. "We'll go to Bren. You
can start a new life there."

"And what of
you, Melli? You weren't born to travel rough, to live with no money, to make
your own way. What would become of you in Bren?" Jack's voice was harsher
than he intended; he could see that he had upset her.

"I could
travel with you as far as Annis. My family has relatives there." Melli's
voice was scathing. "They will take me in, which is just as well, as I am so
useless on my own!"

"Who are your
family, Melli?"

"My father is
Lord Maybor." She looked at him coolly. Jack tried to hide his surprise.
He had guessed Melli was a nobleman's daughter, but he'd never thought she
would come from such a rich and influential family. Jack had heard it said many
times that Lord Maybor was a favorite of the queen. Melli interrupted his
thoughts: "Now, Jack, seems we are trading secrets, tell me the real
reason why Baralis is after you." She lowered her voice and spoke with cold
preci-

Sion. "Or did
I see the reason back in the woods two days ago?"

Jack could not
reply and his silence answered for him. Melli's expression softened and she
came and knelt by him. She took his hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry. Here
am I losing my temper when you aren't well and need rest." She was so
beautiful: her skin as pale as spring butter, her hair as dark as winter
nights. Just to look at Melli, to have her hand in his, almost made everything
worth it. Or it might have done, if he hadn't just learned he was a murderer.
Falk had been so right when he said his life wouldn't be easy.

"You've been
flustering the boy. Shame on you, girl." The old woman walked in and Jack
wondered if she had been listening at the door.

"I am fine,
really. Melli has not disturbed me. In fact, I think I might get up and stretch
my legs." He squeezed Melli's hand and then released it.

"No, you
don't. I've just rendered some fresh pig grease and it needs to be rubbed into
your shoulder."

"I'll do
it," volunteered Melli, an impish smile on her face.

"Oh, no you
won't, girl. I watched you trying to roll dumplings this morning. I have little
faith in you being able to soothe the boy's skin when you can't even roll a
round dumpling." The old woman noticed Melli's blush. "If you want to
make yourself useful, peel those turnips over there. We'll need them to thicken
the broth."

The woman drew
back Jack's blanket and bid him lean forward. She then dipped her hands in the
pig fat and proceeded to rub it into his shoulder. The fat was still warm, and
she worked it into his flesh, massaging the muscle beneath.

"This will
keep your shoulder from stiffening. I saw a man once, his arm was slit open in
a tavern brawl. The wound wasn't bad, more blood than flesh. It healed quickly
and cleanly, barely a scar, but his arm stiffened. He could never straighten it
up ever again. Course he tried all sorts of remedies; it was too late, though.
He should never have let it stiffen in the first place." She finished her
work. "There! That should be enough for now."

"Thank
you," Jack found that he could now move his neck and his shoulder did not
ache as much. "Thank you for everything you have done."

"Nay, lad, do
not thank me. I took you in out of fear for myself." The old woman noticed
his baffled look. "So your friend has not told you, eh? I am alone on this
farm. I have no husband or son."

Jack immediately
understood. "You are afraid we would tell the authorities?"

"I was at
first. Your friend has quite an insisting air about her, but now I feel a little
safer. If I am to be honest, I quite enjoy having people to look after-the
company of pigs can prove a little tedious at times." The woman smiled,
showing large but even teeth. She moved toward the fire and began to stir the
stew. "Their company can be tedious, but their meat never so." With
that she threw a pig's trotter into the pot.

Melli, having
ruined the turnips, turned toward the woman. "Do you know how far
Br-"

"Bresketh
is." Jack managed to interrupt her just in time. It was definitely not
wise to let the woman know where they were headed. It was not that he did not
trust her; it was more that it was an unnecessary burden to put on her. As soon
as Baralis discovered they had stayed here-and Jack did not doubt that he
would-the woman would be questioned. Better that she not know anything, else
Baralis might extract what she knew at great cost.

"I've never
heard of Bresketh. It mustn't be around here." The woman's brow creased in
puzzlement.

"It's
somewhere in the south," Melli said. Jack was pleased at how quickly she
caught on. There was no such place as Bresketh.

"So you'll be
heading south, then?"

"Yes, as soon
as possible. We have no wish to burden you any longer than necessary."

"'Tis no
burden, lad. It's been a long time since company sat at my table. I had
forgotten the joy of it. My husband died many years back and I haven't much
longer to go myself. I have a good life, food, shelter, warmth, yet I realized
today there is much I have missed. I have been without child or friend or
neighbor-my circumstances have made contact with others all but impossible. No,
lad, you are no burden." The old woman gave her attention back to the
stew. Jack and Melli exchanged glances, both touched by her words. Jack almost
wished he could stay. It seemed he had been running for a long time and he
could see little peace in his future. The old woman's kitchen was warm and
restfulhe would be sorry to leave. "We must go tomorrow." His voice
was soft and low.

"Stay one
more day past the morrow, lad. Give your wounds time to heal. If you leave too
soon they might open and bleed. Besides, if you are going on a journey you will
need clothes and food. They will take a few days to prepare." The woman
smiled weakly and Jack relented.

"Very well,
we will leave the day past the morrow."

Baralis was a
little worried. He had expected that the duke of Bren would have sent him a
letter by now, if only to protest at the delay of the betrothal. He was
concerned that the duke's silence might mean some kind of cooling off on his
part. He could hardly blame the man; he had waited over six months for the
betrothal to take place, and the duke of Bren was not the most patient of men.

He was however,
the most ambitious. Baralis smiled thinly. The duke of Bren was just as eager
for this match as he. There was no better choice of a husband for his daughter
than Prince Kylock, heir to the Four Kingdoms. The unfortunate duke had been
blessed with no sons of his own and so hoped to gain one in his daughter's
husband. Because the duke had no male heir, he sought an alliance with the Four
Kingdoms to stabilize his position-with a powerful prince as his daughter's
husband, his adversaries would be less likely to challenge him. Once his
daughter had provided him with a grandson, his sovereignty would be guaranteed.
In the interim he sought to count on the help of the Four Kingdoms to maintain
that sovereignty.

Marrying his
daughter to a prince would bring the good duke one step closer to royalty, and
royalty was something he was obsessed with. He wanted land, but he lusted after
a crown. Oh, he could name himself a king today-he would not be the first man
to have done so-but he would risk ridicule if his title was not backed up with
the support of his lords. Bribery was how he gained their fealty, and land was
the currency of kings.

Trade was a useful
supplement. The knights now controlled the trade routes in the northeast, and
Tyren and the duke reaped the benefits. It was a cozy little partnership; the duke
allowed Tyren a near monopoly on certain goods in return for a cut of the
profits. More and more these days, however, the duke was taking his payments
from Valdis in manpower, not gold. And the knighthood was fast becoming a
familiar sight on the battlefields of Bren.

The time was fast
approaching when Baralis would be a party to the lucrative dealings in the
northeast. The queen would lose her wager and she would be forced to agree to
the marriage. He did not think she could object to the match; it would bring
glory and honor to the court of Harvell. And, more importantly, it would turn a
dangerous rival into a useful ally. Oh, the queen would make a show of
protesting the match for no other reason than she hated him so much, and it
would irk her to follow his advice.

He did hold one or
two trumps in his hand that would serve to sway her to agreement. He quickly
searched through the drawer of his desk. He soon found what he was looking for:
a portrait ... a miniature no bigger than a coin. It was a picture of a young
girl, a girl of such beauty that even Baralis could not help but admire her:
abundant, golden curls, the finest of brows, the smoothest of cheeks and the
most perfectly small but full, pink lips. The very picture of innocence. He was
looking at a likeness of the duke of Bren's daughter: Catherine.

Baralis knew that
as soon as the queen looked upon the portrait her objections would cease. She
would succumb to the girl's beauty. Who could gaze upon such an angelic face
and not be moved by it? The queen might well query the authenticity of the
likeness-many a portrait painter had overexaggerated the charms of his sitter.
He, however, had a letter from the duke himself swearing upon his honor that it
was indeed a true likeness of his daughter.