“Truth be told, I am glad of it.”
“Talan,” Mylla said thoughtfully, “had it been raining in Rochester this morn, would you have had a change of heart about us being together?”
“You are the only one who could have stopped me from taking the course we now find ourselves on.” Talan stopped in the act of pulling off his surcoat. “Do you think you shall have second thoughts?”
“I shall never regret my choice,” Mylla assured him. “Only, I just realized that you shall never again wear the Erlegh coat-of-arms because of me.”
“Mylla, because of you, I know what it is to love and be loved,” Talan said. “That is all I need in this life.”
“I often think you are too good to be true.”
“Let us be away. We can talk of such things at length once I know you are safe.”
“Mayhap—” Mylla’s words were cut off when Talan leapt in front of her. To the scrape of steel leaving its scabbard, he withdrew his sword in one fluid motion. It was then she heard the sound of galloping horses coming from the direction of Rochester.
†
“Leofrick!” Chaucey staggered down the hall of The Wounded Stag bumping into the paneled walls. “Where are you? Leofrick!”
Opening his chamber door, Leofrick stepped out into the passage. “Hells bells. What is all the bellowing about so early in the morn?”
“It is well past dawn.” His red hair standing on end, Chaucey’s bloodshot eyes blinked in the dimness of the passage. “The justice is expected to arrive at the house of your father at any moment.”
“Merde, we must have over imbibed last night,” Leofrick said. “Let me put my boots on and we shall be off.”
“I will await you below.” Chaucey attempted to smooth the wrinkles from his woolen tunic on the way down the steps. Unshaven, unkempt, and reeking of ale and vomit, he gave it up for a lost cause.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Leofrick pulled on his boots while mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Concern for his sister and Talan had him stalling for time. Every delay meant they were closer to reaching the safety of Wales.
Chaucey was anxiously waving off an offer of libation from Winifred when Leofrick finally joined him. “What kept you? The justice shall have my head should I present myself in such a state.”
“Ahem.” Winifred planted her hands on her hips. “You have not yet accounted for the large quantity of ale you both consumed yester-night.”
“I will return to settle the accounting with you later,” Chaucey said. “Leofrick, I beseech you to make haste.”
Unperturbed, Winifred gave the panicking clerk the once over. “If need be, I shall send my husband to remind you of the tab. I would not let m’lady down by shirking my duties in her absence.”
“Woman, I am clerk to the second most powerful personage in the realm.” Chaucey looked insulted and stunned at the same time. “I assure you my word is good.”
“Uh, Chaucey,” Leofrick said. “Should we not be off?”
Hungover and insulted, Chaucey left the tavern without another word.
“I shall return when I can.” Leofrick winked at Winifred on his way out.
Chaucey switched from running to a sort of hop-skip in his haste.
Leofrick’s long strides allowed him to catch up without exerting himself. “Fear you not, Chaucey. If the justice makes an issue of it, I shall take the blame for our passing the night in the tavern.”
“You do not understand,” Chaucey said out of breath. “It will not matter if you take the blame. My employer will still hold me accountable.” Rounding the corner leading to the sheriff’s residence he slowed his frantic pace. “The justice has yet to arrive. I still may have time to bathe.”
“Our day can only get better.” Thumping Chaucey on the shoulder, Leofrick preceded him into the house. “The family should be breaking their fast so let us join them for a quick repast.”
“Did you not hear me?” Chaucey was again becoming alarmed. “I need to make myself presentable.”
“What you need first is something to eat. One look at you and the justice will know you spent the night drinking.” Gripping Chaucey’s bony bicep, Leofrick nearly dragged him down the passageway. “A good meal will make you look and feel better.”
His stomach roiling, Chaucey gave in. “Mayhap I shall have time for a light repast. I am not at all feeling myself and it would not do to retch in my employer’s presence. He loathes illness of any kind.”
“I am sure he does.” Leofrick fell silent at the scene awaiting them in the dining chamber. By her red puffy eyes, it appeared his mother had been weeping. His father and brothers turned solemn expressions on the newcomers. Pulling out a seat, he plopped down beside Caine. “Good morningtide, family. What has everyone looking so glum this fine morn?”
“Spent the night passed out in the tavern, have you?” Edmund glared accusingly at his younger brother. “And if that were not bad enough, you dragged the justice’s clerk down to your new level of debauchery.”
“And yet you wonder why we never invite you.” Gesturing for Chaucey to take an empty chair, Leofrick pulled a basket of bread closer. “Today marks a joyous occasion.” Biting into a roll, he spoke around a full mouth. “Speaking of which, where is the bride? Should she not be breaking her fast with the family?”
“Our sister shared a final meal with her family yester-eve,” Frederick said.
“I take it then she is not hungry this morn?” His expression innocent, Leofrick’s gaze settled on Edmund.
“Why, you—” Edmund was cut off by his father.
Loudly clearing his throat, Richard addressed Chaucey. “It appears we will have bad news to impart to Justice de Glanville when he arrives this morning.”
Wearily eyeing a piece of pork, Chaucey stiffened. “Bad news you say?”
“I am afraid so,” Richard said. “My daughter was not in her chamber this morning. It appears she may have fled the house some time during the night.”
“She fled from the justice?” All thought of food forgotten, Chaucey leaned back in his seat with a look of shock. “That cannot be. No man would dare flee the justice, let alone a woman.”
“My sons have already searched the village for her. Her satchel and some of her clothing are missing. We can arrive at no other conclusion.”
Chaucey’s sickly grey pallor took on a greenish hue. “The justice is bound to blame me.” Twisting in his chair, he violently retched onto the flooring.
“By the Saints,” Frederick swore. Seated beside Chaucey, he lurched away from the foul splattering liquid.
“Frederick,” Emmaline sternly chastised. “Regardless of the circumstances, there is no need to use such language. Go and summon John to clean the mess. I believe he is chopping wood in the yard.”
“Pardon me, Ma.” Rising from his seat, Frederick stepped over the rancid puddle to summon the servant.
“Would you like a private moment to refresh yourself?” Emmaline spoke to Chaucey.
Chaucey stared at her as if he had not heard.
“Caine, please show our guest to your chamber and have Cristine bring him soap, water, and clean linens.” When Caine stood to do as bidden, Emmaline turned her attention back to Chaucey. “Return to us when you are feeling more yourself.”
Dragging his feet, Chaucey followed behind Caine.
Emmaline’s concerned smile vanished the moment she heard Chaucey’s tread on the steps. “He seems to have accepted the story.”
“That is because he is a halfwit,” Edmund said. “The justice is an intelligent man. If he were not, he would not hold such an important position. It is only a matter of time afore he realizes Mylla vanished around the same time as Sir Talan.”
“The justice did not earn his position,” Leofrick said. “He was appointed by King Henry owing to the fact they are longtime friends.”
“Regardless of how he obtained his position,” Edmund retorted, “he is still intelligent. Given tim
e, he is bound to figure out what happened here.”
“If and when he does, Talan and Mylla will be safely out of his reach,” Leofrick said. “That is all that matters.”
“It is all that matters to you,” Edmund came close to shouting. “If the justice discovers or even suspects the family has conspired with Talan, even mother will be executed. You may as well have slaughtered us all in our beds.”
“Edmund, keep your voice down,” Richard hissed. “What is done is done, and I myself have condoned it. We must now present a united front if we are to survive as a family.”
“Since when has Edmund ever thought of the family?” Leofrick stared down his older brother. “He only thinks of himself. I would not doubt if he were to tell—”
“Enough,” Richard sternly interrupted. “I have no doubt the justice will question us all separately. We must stick to the version we have all agreed upon.”
“I agree with father.” Caine returned to resume his seat. “If the justice even suspects our account to be untrue, we are all done for. The only encouraging factor thus far is that Chaucey seems to have accepted the story.”
Pounding on the steps had them all looking toward the doorway. Chaucey rushed in with a stricken expression. His sickly looking face still damp from shaving, he had at least managed to spot clean his soiled tunic. “I heard a carriage approach so peered out the shutters. The justice has arrived.”
With a warning look directed at each one of his sons, Sheriff Richard stood. “Then by all means let us greet him properly.” The family filed out to gather in the hall. To the sound of an authoritative knock on the door, Richard shared a last long look with his wife. Opening the door, he stepped back. “Justice de Glanville, you are most welcome.”
Without responding to the sheriff’s greeting, the justice swept into the entryway. A few years older than Mylla’s father, the justice was several inches shorter. Despite his regal bearing, his protruding belly emphasized his bowed shoulders and concave chest. Garbed all in black with King Henry’s royal crest embroidered on his surcoat an unpleasant sour odor emanated from him. Doffing his black velvet cap to expose his gray balding pate, his full lower lip jutted out to form a permanent scowl. Briefly noting each of the brothers who all but dwarfed him in size, his dark eyes searched for Mylla. “I have brought the finest of wines from France to celebrate the day, sheriff.” He flicked his gaze to a fidgeting Chaucey who all but cowered beside the door. “Retrieve it from the carriage.”
“I will do so at once, lord justice.” Glad for the brief reprieve, Chaucey rushed out the door.
Settling his dark gaze on Richard, the justice pulled off his leather gloves. “I had hoped my betrothed would be waiting to greet me. It has been far too long since I have gazed at her lovely countenance.”
“Please come in whilst my wife prepares the refreshment, lord justice. There is a matter of great importance I must convey to you.”
“I have a schedule to keep, sheriff, tis why I sent my clerk ahead of me. I assume the priest is waiting to conduct the ceremony?”
“Lord Justice, I am afraid there is not going to be a ceremony.”
“Now I am intrigued,” the justice said, “and I assure you that does not happen often.”
“If you will follow me, we can discuss the matter in a more comfortable setting.” Richard moved past his sons to lead the way to the solar. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
The justice took a seat beside the unlit hearth. Sheriff Richard sat in the seat opposite. His four sons entered to stand behind him.
“Have your say, and then I shall have mine.” The justice clasped his pudgy hands over his rotund belly.
“I fea—” his voice breaking, Sheriff Richard cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he began again, “I fear that my daughter left the house sometime during the night. We have thoroughly searched the village for her but she has yet to be found.”
Justice de Glanville sat unmoving as if taking in the information. He did not seem to notice when Chaucey timidly entered to stand quietly along the wall with the brothers. It was only when Emmaline came in bearing a tray with two pewter goblets of red wine that he reacted at all. Snatching a cup from the tray, he downed the contents.
Richard shared an uneasy expression with his wife when he accepted the second goblet.
“From what I gather,” Justice de Glanville said after a lengthy silence. “It appears as though your daughter does not wish a marital alliance with me. I am sure you will now try to convince me that I am mistaken.”
“I am not privy to my daughter’s mind, lord justice. I do not know what Mylla was thinking when she left home.”
“Women do not think on their own, sheriff.” Holding up his goblet, he waited for Chaucey to take it. “Bring the bottle. It appears I shall be here for some time.” After Chaucey hastened to do his bidding, the justice spoke again. “How do you know for certain your daughter left here of her own accord?”
“Unfortunately, I do not know the manner of her leave taking,” Richard said. “At this point, I fear anything is possible.”
“Yet you said your daughter left the house, not that she was taken from it.”
“Aside from myself, there are four able men living in this house who put my daughter’s welfare above their own. I cannot imagine a man brazen enough to enter here in the dark of night to attempt a snatching.”
“Nor can I,” the justice said.
“Which is why after conferring with my sons, we regrettably believe she left home of her own accord.”
The justice briefly studied the sheriff’s apprehensive manner. He then glanced at each of the brothers. “Are any of her belongings missing?”
“Several gowns, her cloak, and her satchel are missing from her chamber.”
“Has she a horse?”
“She does not,” the sheriff said, “and my sons’ horses remain stabled.”
“Witless as women are, it is still doubtful she would have fled on foot. Hence, we must conclude she is on horseback,” the justice said thoughtfully. “In any event, she is unlikely to have travelled far. Have you searched beyond the village boundaries?”
“We have not yet done so,” the sheriff said. “I would like to apologize for any embarrassment the situation causes you, lord justice.”
“Why should I feel embarrassed when it is you who failed to control your rash daughter, sheriff?” Accepting a full goblet of wine from Chaucey, the justice once again waved his clerk away.
“Mylla is my only daughter and youngest child...”
“What does that have to do with anything? You coddled her, and in so doing, allowed her to think for herself,” the justice said. “I assure you, she will not be given such leeway under my roof.”
“Then it is as you say, I have failed my daughter in every way.”
“So tell me this, sheriff.” The justice set his wine down. “Where do you think that leaves us?”
“It leaves me humbly begging your pardon for any offense my failure may have caused you, lord justice.”
“Oh, sheriff,” the justice snickered. “If you plan on begging my pardon, I suggest you do it on your knees.”
Chapter Seven
The sound of hoof-beats drew closer. Raising his sword out to his side, Talan planted his feet apart on the rutted road. “Mylla, conceal yourself in the trees.”
“I do not—”
“Do it now, Mylla.” Talan’s tone allowed no room for argument. “No matter what occurs, you are not to come out unless I call for you.”
Mylla hesitated only slightly before rushing into the forest to do as bidden. Crouching down, she peered around the trunk of massive yew tree. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she fought the urge to return to Talan’s side.
Four riders bearing the de Wrotham coat-of-arms, silver on a black bend with three gold lion heads rode into view. Giving Talan a cursory glance they continued on their way without a word to him.
Sheathing his sword, Talan
waited until he was assured the knights would not return. “Mon coeur, it is safe to come out now.”
Mylla stumbled on her skirts in her haste to reach him. She threw her arms around Talan’s waist nearly knocking him over. “I was so frightened.”
“Worry no more.” Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Without my coat-of-arms to identify me, I was naught but a cautious traveler to them.”
“You drew your sword,” Mylla said. “Why did they not feel threatened by you?”
“The mare is an indicator that I am travelling with a woman. My stance was a protective one.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“I recognized their coat-of-arms. They were Cornish knights bearing the crest of Baron de Wrotham. The baron once possessed an impressive keep on the coast of Cornwall. Until he was stripped of his arms, Euric was one of the baron’s knights. He would most likely be acquainted with the men.”
“You said the baron once possessed an impressive keep. Does he no longer?”
“By all accounts Baron de Wrotham has gone completely mad. He allowed the keep to fall into ruin. His knights have not been recompensed in so long they are no doubt this far from the coast searching for another house to serve.”
“Why was Euric released from the baron’s service? Did he do something wrong?”
“Baron de Wrotham believed Euric’s wife had something to do with his daughter Jaenelle’s madness and eventual death. Tis the reason he stripped Euric of his arms.”
“How could Euric’s wife cause madness in another?”
“She could not,” Talan said. “Besides, Bronwyn is a healer. She would never intentionally hurt another.”
“I still do not understand.” Mylla slowly shook her head. “What did the Lady Bronwyn do to make the baron even think such a thing?”
“After Jaenelle’s death, evidence was uncovered that she had been a practicing wicce. Grieving his only child’s loss, it unhinged what remained of the baron’s mind. Since Bronwyn uses the old ways in her healing, he blamed her for bringing witchcraft into the village.”
“So he stripped her husband of his livelihood,” Mylla said. “That is so unfair.”
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