Caitlyn Box Set

by Elizabeth Davies

  I checked under the blanket. Again and again, I stripped it off the bed and shook it out, hoping the bags had magically crawled into bed with me and were hiding for the fun of it, but no amount of searching and hoping brought them to light. I came to the only logical conclusion. They were not lost, and they were not misplaced. They had been stolen.

  But by whom? I assumed Idris and Cai were downstairs, well into their cups maybe, but still within eyesight of the rickety stairs and the door to my pokey room. Surely one of them would have noticed an intruder? Maybe not, if the intruder in question was entitled to be there. Not if she owned the place. I recalled the way the innkeeper’s wife eyed my saddlebags as she slunk out of the room. It had to be her.

  I marched into the tavern’s bar room, and found no sign of Idris or Cai. Four men and a flea-ridden hound now occupied the table where I had eaten my stew. The dog lapped sloppily at a bowl of ale and the men’s drinking habits weren’t any better.

  It seemed I would have to do this on my own. Steeling myself, I crossed the room.

  Rot-Tooth had her back to me, a tankard in each hand, flirting with one of the men. She had changed into a different dress and when she placed the tankards down and turned, the lowness of its cut surprised me. How did her bosoms not escape over the top of the fabric? The man reached out to her, but she stepped back laughing, and blew him a kiss when he leered. Her skirts swayed as she walked away, hips rolling as she went, and she sent a suggestive glance over her shoulder. I shot a look at her husband, but the man was busy at the barrels, and failed to notice his wife’s behaviour. I was taken aback at her lewdness. No woman in Llandarog would have dared behave in such an unseemly manner, especially with a husband close by.

  She shook out the russet skirt and I narrowed my eyes. Was the dress new, bought with coin gained from the items she had stolen?

  ‘I like your gown. Is it new?’ I asked. Hardly subtle but I wasn’t in the mood for delicacy. My hands shook and I hid them behind my back.

  She simpered, the smile revealing more of her rotten teeth than I cared to see. ‘I have had it a while,’ she said.

  She was clever – the dress wasn’t so expensive as to raise eyebrows, but it was no serving wench’s dress either. How long would she wait before she dared to wear my best dress? Was it already draped over a chair, waiting for a quiet moment when she could let out the seams and lower the neckline? Waiting for me to depart…

  Nothing in her gaze suggested thievery or guile but I still didn’t trust her. She must have been the reason the mercenary had cuddled his sword whilst he slept. Or was he the one responsible for the loss of my saddlebags? Men like him killed for coin. He would have no compunction in stealing from an incautious woman. He must have been rubbing his hands together in glee when he saw what an easy task it would be to separate me from what remained of my wealth.

  I took a deep breath to steady my thoughts. The image of a dead cat, dark as hell and twice as wicked, flashed across my mind. I pushed it away. For the moment, I had to concentrate on getting my possessions back.

  ‘Where is the man who was in my bed?’ I asked.

  Rot-Tooth’s cackle made me wince. ‘Lost him, have you?’ she said.

  ‘He wasn’t mine to lose, as you well know!’

  ‘Your dalliance is of no concern to me, except you paid for one person and if another shared your bed then I expect double.’

  ‘There was no dalliance.’ I jabbed my hands on my hips. ‘No one shared my bed!’

  ‘You just said-’

  ‘I know what I said, but that’s not what I meant. Where is the man from earlier? The mercenary.’

  ‘He left when you threw him out, and I neither know nor care where he went. Now, if that is all, I have thirsty guests to serve.’

  Guests? Ah, she meant the various men seated at the tables, many of whom stared at me with interest or amusement.

  Perhaps they worked together, Rot-Tooth and the mercenary. Maybe the innkeeper’s wife provided the means to enter the room without being caught, and he did the actual deed. But whoever was to blame, no one was more culpable than I, and whether either, or both of them working in cahoots were responsible for the theft of my only possessions, it made no difference. Gone was gone. I owned only the clothes on my back. And Silver.

  I went in search of my men and found them in the barn behind the inn. I kicked first one, then the other, in the foot. Neither man so much as stirred. The stink of ale permeated the air.

  The next kick was much harder, as was the one which followed. I hoped the bruises would last a week.

  ‘Wah…?’ Cai struggled to sit up. He stared up at me, red-eyed and vacant. Hay clung to his tunic, but I noticed no one had dared steal his sword, nor anything else of his, and the soft bulge at his chest indicated a half-full purse under his shirt.

  ‘I have been robbed,’ I announced, fighting to hold back tears.

  ‘Wah…?’ Cia cleared his throat and squinted. ‘What?’

  ‘Everything. Stolen.’

  ‘Everything?’

  ‘Yes, that is what I said. My saddlebags – gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  I took a deep breath. The man – boy – was still in his cups. There was little point in sarcasm. It would pass him by.

  ‘A man was in my room,’ I began, but before I could finish the sentence Cai leapt to his feet. His sword narrowly missed my head as he drew it from the scabbard and thrust it in front of him. I stepped back as he waved it in my direction.

  ‘Where is he?’ His words were slurred and he wobbled slightly, trying to keep his balance.

  Idris lay face down in the straw, head turned to the side, and his one visible eye rolled in its socket as it looked from Cai to me and back again. The father was possibly worse than the son.

  ‘Put the sword away boy, afore you hurt someone,’ he muttered.

  The blade rasped as Cai slid it back into place at his hip. Idris sat up, groaned, and buried his head in his hands.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, his voice as thick and full of gravel as the mud on a river bed.

  The story took mere moments to tell and I waited for the men to jump to my defence, but Idris simply sat there, his head still clasped in his palms. Had he fallen back to sleep?

  I was about to kick him again when he spoke. ‘He will be long gone, and even if he is still in the town, it is unlikely we will find him. Besides, you have no proof it was him.’

  ‘I would stake my life it was one or the other of them,’ I insisted.

  ‘Your life is what worries me.’ Idris let go of his head and clambered to his feet with slow care. ‘We are strangers here. Without proof, it is your word against hers.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I am sorry, cariad, I should have taken better care of you.’

  The endearment pricked at my heart. Rhain used to call me cariad. Somewhere along this interminable journey, Idris had stopped calling me my lady and started calling me my love instead. I suppose I was not his lady any longer.

  ‘The ale called and we answered,’ he continued. ‘I should have remained outside your door.’

  His humility undid me and I turned away lest he saw my face.

  ‘Are we going to look for this man?’ Cai dropped his hand to the sword hilt and bounced on the balls of his feet.

  ‘The only thing I am going to look for is a jug of water and some dry bread,’ his father said. ‘I swear I never want to see another tankard of ale if I live to be seventy.’

  ‘We cannot let them get away with it,’ Cai argued.

  ‘Worry not, son. I have no intention of letting the matter rest.’ Some colour had come back into Idris’ cheeks; his face no longer looked like mouldy uncooked dough and he held himself less like an old man and more like a warrior.

  ‘But you said we needed proof?’ I said.

  ‘Aye, to accuse someone. What I propose doing is something else entirely.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘You don’t need to know. Go ba
ck inside, see if they have any food, and once we’ve had a swill in the trough and picked the straw out of our hair, we’ll join you.’

  I flounced away, muttering curses under my breath.

  ‘That’s no way for a lady to talk,’ Idris shouted after me.

  The bar was no more appealing in the late afternoon than it had been in the early morning, though it was considerably fuller. I found an empty table to wait for the men to join me, and enquired if there was anything to eat.

  The sullen girl grunted. I took it to mean there was, and ordered three pies without asking what they contained, deeming it better not to know. She returned with the food, scowling as she thumped it down on the table. I smiled at her. It couldn’t be easy having a woman like Rot-Tooth for a mother. When her frown deepened, I wondered whether she wasn’t used to people being nice to her.

  The men joined me, attacking their meal with gusto. I picked at mine, the cleanliness of the kitchen at the forefront of my mind. When we had finished eating, I took a long draught from my tankard of watered down mead and girded my loins for another confrontation with Rot-Tooth. I called her over. She came, swinging her hips, her bosoms wobbling.

  ‘I wish to rent the room for another night,’ I said and her face lit up with greed. How much more did this woman think I had? And where did she think I was hiding it?

  ‘It will cost you another coin,’ she said.

  ‘No, it won’t. The comb is worth more than a measly night’s rent and you know it.’

  She held out her hand regardless. I shook my head, determined to stand firm.

  Idris and Cai got up to leave, pushing the bench back. ‘Come, my lady, there are plenty of other inns to drink in. Better ones than this.’ He jiggled the coins in his purse.

  Her expression hardened, then melted into a smile. ‘No need to find another. Your lady is welcome to stay. Just the one night, mind.’

  I took her capitulation as further evidence of her guilt. ‘And this time I want clean blankets and hot water.’

  They were duly fetched, though the replacement blanket was neither clean nor fresh, and the water was tepid. I washed as best I could and felt slightly better, though nothing short of full immersion in a boiling tub and a brisk application of lye soap would remove the stains from my gown. Without the comb, I resorted to using my fingers to tease the knots from my hair, and tied it back with a faded, frayed strip of linen. My locks had already lost their usual shine and gloss. By the time I arrived in Wessex, whatever prettiness I possessed would be long gone. At least my skin still had the paleness men and women alike valued, though the next several days of riding in the May sunlight would soon tan my face and hands until I looked little better than a farmer’s wife.

  I was perched on the edge of the pallet, contemplating all the ills in my life, when a soft knock at the door made me frown. It was late, the inn having long since threw out its last customers to sing and stagger their way down the cobbled street. The town had quietened considerably. The witching hour was upon us, and most honest folk were abed.

  ‘Who is it?’ I kept my voice low.

  ‘It is me, Idris,’ he whispered.

  Should I open the door? It was very late, and what motive could he have for visiting me at this time of night? And he called me cariad. I loved Idris like a brother, but did he look at me and see his queen – or a woman? Was he here to comfort me? I blushed, and smoothed my crumpled skirt, though I had no intention of letting him in. When did he start thinking of me this way?

  He knocked again, louder this time. ‘Caitlyn? Can you hear me? We must leave now,’ he hissed.

  Oh. He was not here for love, but for flight. Chastened, I opened the door.

  Quick.’ He pushed his way inside and thrust something into my hands.

  My saddlebags!

  ‘I don’t think anything is missing,’ he said, ‘but there is no time to check. Hurry. Cai is a little way up the road with the horses.’

  ‘How-?’

  ‘Don’t ask!’ He picked up my cloak and draped it around my shoulders.

  I seemed to be forever leaving places in a hurry, with Idris urging me on. This time I was more than happy to go, glad to see the back of the tavern and its deceitful mistress, and I padded after him as silently as my boots would allow.

  Chapter 7

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, after Idris eased the tavern door open and ushered me outside. The streets were deserted, though the cry of a hungry babe and the snort of a sleeping man carried on the pre-dawn air. A dog barked, setting off others. I held my breath, hoping the canine chorus did not encourage anyone to peer through their shutters. The pair of us, scuttling through the centre of Chepstow, could not look more like vagabonds if we tried.

  ‘We will wait by the docks and board a ferry on the morrow. I’m sorry, cariad, but there will be little sleep for any of us tonight.’ He gave me a slow smile, and placed a hand on the small of my back.

  There was that word again, cariad. Calling me ‘love’ meant nothing. People used it all the time. It was a trifling endearment. Wasn’t it?

  But my back burned where his touch had lingered, and I wished he had not laid his hand on me. I preferred the distance of queen and subject, even if I was no longer a queen and he was no longer my subject, but rather my saviour and my protector.

  Cai appeared, leading the horses. I took hold of Silver’s bridle and he led us through the dark streets, down towards the river and onto the wharf. The horses’ hooves were loud on the wooden walkway and I was relieved when he ducked into a sheltered spot by a blacksmith’s forge. The two-tiered building housed a smithy at ground level and the smith and his family on the upper floor. As long as we stayed quiet, the man would never know he’d been our host for the remainder of the night. Welcome heat leaked out of the oven-like stone forge, and once the horses were tethered and settled in the lean-to barn adjoining a workbench, the three of us huddled around it for warmth. May nights were still chilly, especially in the hours just before dawn. Soon the wharves and jetties would come alive, but for now, with the tide low and the night hard upon us, both boats and people took their rest.

  ‘Try to sleep,’ Idris instructed.

  I had no intention of closing my eyes, too curious about the retrieval of my saddlebags.

  ‘Where were they? Who had them?’ I rooted through the bags with eager fingers, delighted to find everything still present.

  ‘Tis Cai you should thank. He discovered their whereabouts. The serving wench took them.’

  ‘The serving wench? You mean that woman’s daughter?’ They must have been in it together.

  ‘She isn’t her daughter; she is the innkeeper’s daughter, and I gather there is little love lost between the two women. A certain mercenary promised to free her from her life of drudgery if she stole for him, and the stupid girl believed him. He was waiting ’til we left to collect the goods.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘She sang like a blackbird when I confronted her,’ Cai chimed in. ‘Mind you, I was searching the tavern kitchens at the time and discovered where she hid them, and then she discovered me! I don’t know who was the most put out. She was not best pleased, either at the loss of her ill-gotten wealth or that she had been caught. I threatened her with the sheriff if she screamed.’

  Idris nudged his son in the ribs. Cai held out an intricately carved antler-bone comb.

  ‘Cai also took this,’ Idris said.

  ‘It was with your saddlebags. I could hardly leave it there,’ Cai added.

  ‘Oh.’

  My comb. I had a brief thought of sending it back to Rot-Tooth, but my hand took the comb from Cai of its own volition and closed around it. It was mine, I reasoned. Rhain had given it to me and Idris had already paid enough for a few hours’ sleep in a filthy bed.

  Idris rolled his cloak into a pillow and stuffed it behind his head, with a frown. He had other ideas regarding the comb’s rightful owner.

  ‘When the comb is mis
sed, we will be blamed for the theft,’ he said.

  I opened my mouth to object, and Idris held up a hand. ‘Whether you had the worst of the bargain or not, it was still above board. You paid her with the comb, and now she will believe you have stolen it back. I expect the girl and her lover planned this all along. With the three of us accused of theft, the pair of them could make their getaway and not be noticed amongst all the fuss. By the time the innkeeper and his wife realised we are not to blame, the serving wench intended to be long gone.’

  I shook my head. Theft? How could the taking back of one’s own property be theft?

  ‘What is done, is done,’ Idris continued. ‘We will leave at high tide and put Chepstow behind us.’ He closed his eyes. Cai was already asleep, and I marvelled at their ability to rest in the most uncomfortable of places.

  Shuffling closer to the wall, I leaned against it, the comb clutched in my hand with all the determination of a child clinging onto a scrap of blanket. Closing my eyes, I let my fingers roam over its smooth edges, recalling happier times, and I must have dozed for a while, only to come awake with a start as the sun sent its first messengers peeping over the horizon.

  The wharf folk were stirring, languidly at first, stretching and yawning, scratching crotches and pissing against walls. Muted voices grew louder along with the dawn. Lanterns were doused and breakfasts eaten as fishermen prepared for the coming day. A flotilla of boats and a ship or two bobbed at anchor from jetties jutting out into the deeper waters of the Wye. I had never seen anything bigger than a coracle or a rowing boat, and I was awed at the size of the ships. The wharf soon rang with yells and cries, the mud stench of the river mingled unpleasantly with the tang of wood-smoke and the reek of shit, and over it all lay the stink of rotting fish.

  My stomach rumbled.

  ‘I will find us some breakfast,’ Cai said, also yawning and stretching as he got to his feet, and I hoped he would do the rest of his morning activities out of sight. He ambled away, scratching at his newly emerging beard and easing out the kinks in his back, and disappeared along the wharf, following the curve of the river.