The cook handed it to her as Dennis clapped a nervous hand to his forehead. He couldn’t help it. He watched as Ryan stirred the stew, inspecting the ingredients.
“What is in this besides the goat meat?” she asked.
“Beans,” the cook told her; he was beginning to sweat. “Beans, carrots, and turnips.”
Ryan stirred it a few more times before lifting a spoonful to her mouth. She blew on it, sniffed it, and then took a taste.
The men cringed; Dennis actually closed his eyes briefly, tightly, appalled on her behalf. He knew he should stop her, distract her from the stew at the very least, but he didn’t want to make it obvious that he was attempting to get her out of the kitchen. God, if she only knew….
“It is very good,” Ryan said, smacking her lips. “It needs more salt.”
The cook was trembling. “Aye, my lady.”
Ryan took another taste before handing him back the spoon. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Ruggles, my lady.”
“My husband is taking me to the port,” she said. “When I return, I would like to supervise the evening meal. You and I will discuss my expectations for the kitchen at that time.”
“Aye, Lady d’Vant.”
With a brief smile, Ryan gathered her skirts again and made her way back to Dennis, who had removed a nervous hand from his forehead, and was now smiling wanly at her. Ryan didn’t notice his nerves, however; she was more focused on the trip into town.
“Shall we go?” she asked.
Dennis nodded, taking her elbow as he turned her in the direction of the outer bailey. He passed a long look at the cook as they went, with silent implications to the man of the fact that any remains of Bute needed to be put well out of Lady d’Vant’s reach. Wiping the nervous sweat from his brow, the cook rushed to the task once the lord and lady were out of his sight.
The day was growing clear as the morning fog rolled out. Dennis took Ryan towards the stables, which happened to be in proximity of the knight’s quarters where Lyla and Riston were waiting for them. Dennis saw Riston standing with Lyla, inflamed because he had told the man to stay out of Ryan’s sight until he could tell her what had become of her goat, but Riston knew of Dennis’ displeasure and quickly excused himself as Dennis and Ryan approached. He was in a bad spot because he could not leave Lyla alone, yet he had been told to stay away from Ryan. Dennis and Ryan watched Riston run off.
“Where is he going?” Ryan wanted to know. “Will you bring him back? I want to inquire about Bute.”
Dennis watched the knight disappear behind the stables. “I am sure that is where he is going right now,” he said, trying to skirt the subject. He focused on Lyla. “There is your cousin, safe and sound. I am sure she is very glad to see you this morn.”
Successfully diverted, Ryan greeted her cousin. Lyla, in fact, was vastly relieved to see her cousin and clung to her from nearly the moment they came together in a happy embrace. She kept looking at Dennis, remembering his threat about not mentioning the goat, only to be met with his steely gray gaze. After glaring at Lyla with a look implying severe punishment should she speak on the forbidden subject, Dennis sent a soldier running for the stables to tell the grooms to bring around their mounts, as he listened to the chatter going on between Ryan and Lyla. Neither woman seemed to have any shortage of things to discuss.
As Dennis politely stood off to the side and waited for the horses, he caught the attention of one of his sergeants and asked the man to put together an escort that would take them into town. As the man went to carry out the task at hand, Dennis turned back to his wife.
His wife. Honestly, he could still hardly believe it. It had only been a few days, but it still didn’t feel real to him. The first two days of their marriage had been full of upheaval and shock, but today the situation seemed to be easing somewhat. Where it not for what happened to the damnable goat, it would be perfect, but with that hanging over his head, he knew they couldn’t truly move forward. The more he heard Ryan interact with Lyla, her sweet little voice or the silly way she had of giggling, the more enamored he could feel himself becoming, and the more guilty he felt for not being honest with her about the goat. Already, he felt as if he was being a terrible husband.
The sounds of horses roused him from his thoughts, and he turned to see the grooms emerging from the stable yard with horses in tow. But coming up behind the horses was his sister, mounted, with Clive directly behind her, also mounted. Dennis could feel himself tense up as Charlotte, impatient behind the plodding horses, spurred her charger around them and sent Dennis’ charger into a frenzy. This upset the palfreys and soon all three horses were jockeying around nervously as the grooms tried to control them.
“I hope this means you are taking your wife back where she belongs,” Charlotte said, indicating the excited horses.
Dennis’ jaw ticked. “She belongs here, with me,” he replied steadily. “Where are you going?”
Charlotte’s gaze moved between her brother and his wife before finally focusing on Dennis. There was great animosity in the pale gray depths.
“There are new merchant vessels in port,” she said. “I am going to see if they have anything new from the continent by way of weapons or other things I might find useful.”
Dennis didn’t want to tell her that they were traveling there also, mostly because he didn’t want her riding escort. An escort was supposed to protect and he knew she most definitely would not protect Ryan.
“Be on your way,” he told her.
Charlotte didn’t move. She continued to watch her brother as his charger was brought to him.
“Where are you going if not back to Launceston?” she asked.
Dennis was moving to help his wife mount her palfrey. “I am acquainting Lady Ryan with St. Austell,” he said. “I thought I would show her the village.”
Charlotte grunted her disapproval, watching Dennis lift Ryan into the saddle. “Careful the town’s folk do not catch wind of where your new wife is from,” she said as she steered her charger away. “She may not live to see he sun set.”
Ryan heard her. She watched the woman ride off, a big bulk of a woman she was trying very hard not to be afraid of. She knew that Dennis was watching her, waiting for her to break down because of Charlotte’s comment, but Ryan refused to do it. Although she knew Charlotte meant every word, she also knew Dennis would not let anything happen to her. After last night, she trusted him. She knew the man would not let her come to harm.
She looked at him and smiled politely. “Shall we go, my lord?”
Dennis’ gray eyes lingered on her, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He patted her hand, nodded his head, and moved in Lyla’s direction to assist her in mounting, but Lyla had already climbed onto her horse. Moving back to his charger, he glanced off towards the south side of the inner bailey and could see several soldiers emerging from the stables on mounts.
As the St. Austell escort formed and Clive eventually joined the ranks, Dennis kept close to Ryan the entire journey to the port. Truth be told, he knew that everyone at St. Austell had the same attitude as his sister and he wasn’t about to let Ryan fall victim to a zealous soldier.
CHAPTER SIX
St. Austell’s harbor was relatively small and well-protected. In the great deep bluish-green expanse of water there were several smaller ships moored in it, as well as three large cogs. The cogs were heavily built long bodies, with uncomplicated decks and a single mast, and all three of them were in various stages of being off-loaded. They bobbed gently in the water as men swarmed the decks, handing goods down to those standing in the shallower waters, creating a long line of men that handed off the goods all the way to the shore.
Ryan had been fascinated at the sight. She’d never seen anything like it. In her heavy cloak, she had to peel layers back because the emerging sun was surprisingly warm for late December. Gulls cried overhead and she would glance up now and again, and her eyes were shielded by her hand as
she watched them fly against the stiff sea breeze.
Dennis had taken their party down into the town’s narrow streets to the hub of the town where the goods were being delivered. There was a good deal of activity in the moist streets, which stank of saltwater and urine. Ryan, with Lyla riding behind her, watched the activity curiously. As she watched men move about, their arms laden with merchandise, she also became aware of the smells of freshly baked bread. It occurred to her that she had not broken her fast that morning and now, with the smells of food, she was quickly growing famished.
There was a small alleyway behind her where the smells seemed to be coming from most strongly. Craning her head back, she strained to see what manner of shops were there, wooden and stone structures that were low and squat. The alley itself was smoky from the cooking fires, with people and dogs milling about.
Beside her, Dennis saw that Ryan was looking around as if searching for something. He suspected what it was since he, too, was inhaling the same smells. They were wonderful.
“Do you see something that interests you, my lady?” he asked.
Ryan looked at him, somewhat sheepishly. “There are some wonderful smells about,” she said. “Forgive me, but I did not break my fast this morning and the smells are enticing.”
Dennis promptly dismounted his charger, handing the reins off to a soldier as he walked around to Ryan’s palfrey and lifted her off. He carefully set her down, careful not to set her in the slippery mud.
“Clive,” he turned to the heavily-armed knight riding beside Lyla. “Lady Ryan and I will return shortly. Hold station here until I return.”
Clive nodded shortly. “Aye, my lord.”
With Ryan in hand, Dennis headed back into the alley where the delicious smells were coming from. Ryan held on to him tightly, looking about curiously, seeing several small bread shops with workers milling around like busy bees. Dennis took her to one shop in particular, an open-air shop with wooden tables and a big kitchen area. A huge, beehive-shaped oven was spitting smoke and great heat.
A short, fat man in flour-covered clothing greeted Dennis. “My lord,” he said, wiping his hands on his apron. “What can I bring ye?”
Dennis knew the man; they had done business before. “What is good this morning?”
The man grinned, displaying yellowed teeth. “Mutton and apple oggies, my lord,” he said. “That is what ye smell.”
“What else?”
“Whortleberry pie.”
“Give me two goodly portions of both.”
The man moved quickly, dishing up pies that had been baked in fat, presenting them to Dennis on trenchers made of stale, stiff bread and spoons made of gourds. Dennis indicated for Ryan to take a seat at one of the outdoor tables and she did, being presented with a massive slab of mutton and apple pie, or ‘oggie’, in a flour crust, and an equally massive slab of blue whortleberry pie. Made with honey, it was sweet and gooey and delicious. Starving, as she really hadn’t eaten much the evening before, Ryan plowed into the sweet pie first, eating the entire thing before starting in on the mutton and apple pie. Dennis, slurping down his own food, watched her shovel in the meal with some amusement.
“I thought perhaps you would share that with your cousin, but I see that I was mistaken,” he said.
Ryan slowed her chewing, appearing somewhat contrite. “I will save some of the mutton pie for her,” she insisted weakly. “I suppose I was hungrier than I realized.”
He grinned. “Eat your fill,” he told her. “If necessary, I will purchase more for your cousin.”
Relieved, Ryan ended up eating the entire trencher. She was absolutely stuffed, but not too stuffed to down the boiled water with rose petals and apple rind that the shopkeeper brought her to drink. As she finished off the last of the liquid, Dennis was watching her. More and more, he just seemed to watch her in unguarded moments, seeing the essence of the woman he had married. It was clear that he was increasingly smitten.
“We will find a good deal of merchandise near the port,” he said. “Perhaps we shall even find a carpenter who can build a wardrobe for your possessions.”
Ryan appeared thoughtful to his suggestion. “It would seem that the keep does not have much by way of furniture or furnishings,” she said, trying to be tactful. “You said that your father sold everything of value?”
Dennis nodded. “Everything that did not directly pertain to war was sold,” he said. “We have the best and most advanced armory in Cornwall, but it came at a price. Thank God my mother was not alive to see my father selling her heirlooms and valuables.”
“When did your mother pass away?” Ryan asked softly.
“When I was newly returned from Northwood, having just been knighted,” he replied, seemingly undisturbed. “She had a cancer in her breast. I am thankful that I was able to spend a few days with her before she died.”
“I am glad for you,” Ryan said. “I was also with my mother when she passed.”
“Then we were fortunate.”
Ryan cocked her head thoughtfully. “Do you ever think of death, Dennis? What I mean to say is that do you ever wonder what it is like to die?”
He shrugged. “I am a knight,” he said simply. “Dying is part of that vocation. Although I am not ready to die, when death does come, I will accept it without fear. I intend to die well.”
There was something in his tone that made Ryan peer more closely at him. The man was so different in the world he existed in, surrounded by aggressive men and women, living a legacy of death and dying. But still, he had integrity and honor and an innate since of genuine peace. He was the calming eye in the midst of the d’Vant tempest.
“I would expect nothing less from you,” she said, her eyes glimmering. “I am sure you will do it as you do everything else; with honor.”
He saw the warmth in her eyes and it surprised him. It also pleased him a great deal. “Compliments, my lady?” he asked, shaking his head. “From the woman who called me mad and brutish not two days ago? Shocking.”
She laughed softly. “Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to surprise you. Will you recover?”
He put his hand over his heart, with humor. “I am not entirely certain,” he said. “After our first few days of acquaintance, I was sure I would never hear a kind word from you.”
Her smile faded. “Those were difficult days,” she admitted. “But this vengeance your men seek… I have been thinking on what you said last night. The sense of revenge will not end with a bloodied sheet, will it? They will expect more from you.”
His smile faded as well, thinking on her wise words. She seemed to understand the darker hearts of men, but coming from Launceston and its long history of violence, he wasn’t surprised. He was coming to suspect her thoughts ran deeper than he could imagine, this intelligent and spirited woman. He was eager to discover that part of her for himself.
“It is possible,” he said honestly, quietly. “You must understand… as passionate as the earl was about war against St. Austell, we felt the same way against Launceston. It is not a passion that will end in a day or even a week or month. It is something that will take time and patience.”
Ryan watched him as he spoke, his mannerisms. She sensed something… perhaps doubt… in his expression. “You are not entirely sure they will ever come to terms with peace, are you?” she asked softly.
He looked at her. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I can read it in your eyes,” she said. “What happens if your men never come to terms with this marriage and the peace you strive for? Did it ever occur to you that you ask too much?”
Dennis was looking at the well-worn table-top. Overhead, a gull screamed, flying low to inspect the leavings of their meal. He glanced up at the gull, pondering her question. After a moment, he reached out and grasped her hand gently.
“I told you last night that I am weary of war,” he murmured. “I do not want our children to grow up as we have, filled with hatred and fear. I want the
m to know peace. My men will have to accept that.”
“What if they cannot?”
“Then they will no longer serve me.” He watched the doubt in her expression at his declaration. “My lady, if I have to dismiss every man under my command and find an entirely new army, I shall do it. Mayhap I shall wipe clean my entire army so that anyone who remembers the hatred of Launceston shall be purged.”
She felt his warm hand over hers, gazing into his gray eyes. “You are as much a stranger in your world as I am,” she said softly. “Your men do not want peace but you do. You are trying to show them that there are finer things in life but they do not want to listen. Even your sister does not want to listen. All they know is vengeance and hate; when you are trying to show them something different.”
He squeezed her hand. “I believe that they will become accustomed to peace in our world and when they do, they will appreciate it,” he said. “You must understand that my father’s death is still fresh in their minds. It will take time for them to overcome it.”
“Your sister, too?”
“Her especially.”
“What do I do?”
“Stay away from her until I can determine a course of action.”
“Would she truly hurt me?”
He drew in a long and thoughtful breath. “It would be better not to tempt her.”
Ryan nodded, lowering her gaze. The two trenchers on the table were wet with whortleberry juice and mutton gravy, both picked clean. Ryan looked across the remains of the feast pensively as she considered his words and the situation they both found themselves in. It was still very dangerous for her. She understood that, in spite of the progress she was making in her relationship with Dennis.
Dennis, sensing her thoughts, gave her hand one last squeeze before summoning the baker and asking for more food to take to Lyla. When the man brought it over, Dennis helped Ryan stand up from the uneven bench, taking the food in one gloved hand and Ryan in the other.
They found Clive and Lyla and the eight man escort where they had left them at the mouth of the avenue. Lyla was thrilled, and appreciative of the food, as Dennis sent one of the soldiers off to see if he could find a cabinet maker. Meanwhile, the rest of the party began to make their way towards the avenue of merchants down near the wharf. Ryan giggled at her cousin who was trying to eat and ride a horse at the same time, which was no mean feat. More than once, whortleberry pie ended up on Lyla’s chin.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 134