The Bladesmith

by Melinda Hammond

  'I admit it,' returned Henry, through gritted teeth, but I have no interest in the game, Father.'

  'No, you would much rather be out with your fine friends.' Amos Ellingham retorted. The frown left his brow as he turned back to John. 'I am sure you have matters to settle in Sleaton, but perhaps tomorrow you will be able to join us here at the Manor, sir?'

  John hesitated. The invitation was as much of a shock to him as the others, but there was no doubt that staying at the Manor could be useful. It would certainly be more comfortable than the cramped little inn.

  Henry strode across to the window and stood, looking out, his anger evident in every line of his rigid back. Katherine was staring at the floor, her brow furrowed, lips compressed. Perhaps she did not want him here. She was certainly unhappy at the invitation, although she would not go against her father's wishes. John turned back to the old man and read a look of such intense entreaty in the aged eyes that he knew he could not refuse. Amos wanted him to stay, and even if it had not suited his purpose so well, John knew he would have accepted the invitation.

  'Indeed, sir, I shall be delighted to do so, and can only thank you for your kindness toward a traveller. But it is getting late. I should go now if I am to get back to the village before nightfall.'

  'Of course, sir. Kate, Morwick is making an inventory of the wine cellar, so perhaps you would see Master Steel to the stables?'

  Henry stepped up.

  'Surely, sir, it would be better if I –'

  'No.' Amos stopped him with a look. 'I want to talk to you!'

  John made his bow and accompanied Katherine out of the room. She barely waited until the door of the parlour was closed before turning on him.

  'How did you work upon my father to issue that invitation? How dare you impose on an old man!'

  'Lady, I assure you the invitation was a complete surprise to me.' He paused, and added gently, 'Has it occurred to you that your father might be bored, tied as he is to the house? Mayhap he craves a little company.'

  'He has never shown such hospitality to any of Henry's friends.'

  His lips twitched. 'Ah, but I am most definitely not Henry's friend.'

  Some of the anger had left her, and she gave a reluctant laugh.

  'No, that much was obvious from my dear brother's face when he heard you were to stay.'

  She led him out of the house and towards the stables.

  'Will it inconvenience you, to have me as a guest?'

  John watched her closely, trying to judge her as much from her manner as her words.

  'We rarely have visitors, sir. I hope you do not find our hospitality lacking.

  'Oh, I am not at all difficult to please.'

  They had reached the yard and paused while Gordon went to fetch Dorcas.

  She raised her eyes.

  'Why are you here?' she demanded. 'I do not believe you are come to Sleaton purely for pleasure.'

  'No. I cannot lie to you. I have… unfinished business at the Keep.'

  She paled and he added quickly, 'Trust me, I mean no harm to you or your family.'

  'And Warenford?' She gave a huff of impatience. 'Your silence is enough!'

  John reached for her hand.

  'Tell me, do you truly wish to marry him? Do you love him?' She turned her head away and he added bitterly, 'Your silence is sufficient, too.'

  'No more, I pray you!' She shook her head, keeping her eyes averted. 'I have no choice.'

  'We shall see,' he muttered grimly. 'Forgive me, I can say no more, for the present, but I will ask you to trust me. Believe that I would not willingly do anything to hurt you, Katherine.'

  He lifted her fingers, felt them tremble as his lips brushed them, but still she would not look at him. Reluctantly he released her, leapt into the saddle and cantered away without allowing himself one backward look.

  * * *

  In the parlour, Henry frowned at his father.

  'This desire for company is a novel one for you, sir.'

  Amos Ellingham turned an innocent look upon him.

  'A very pleasant young man, Master Steel.'

  'But you know nothing about him.'

  'I know he is a nephew of the Crewes of Durham. A fine family, or they were in my day.'

  Henry fought to curb his impatience.

  'As you say, sir, in your day. Families can change.'

  'Aye, so they can, my son.'

  'Then let me go after him. I will say that you have reconsidered and it is not convenient for him to stay'

  'But it is convenient,' replied Amos. 'You are rarely at home and Kate is busy with the estate. I shall enjoy having a guest in the house.'

  'But a stranger! If it was my house – '

  The old man held up his hand, saying gently, 'But it is not your house, Henry.'

  Henry audibly ground his teeth, but before he could answer Katherine returned to the parlour, and he turned to her instead.

  'Our father has taken quite a shine to Master Steel.' She shrugged, not to be drawn. 'Well, are you happy to have a veritable stranger staying at the Manor? In your house?'

  Katherine did not miss the bitter inflection, but she kept her voice calm as she replied.

  'My father knows I shall always be happy to welcome his guests.'

  Her brother choked back an oath, turned on his heel and stormed out. Katherine looked to her father, who reached out to her.

  'Did I do wrong to invite him, my love?'

  'My dear sir, we know nothing of him.' She went to sit at his feet, giving him her hands. 'I fear he has imposed upon you.'

  'Nothing of the sort. It was my own idea to have him stay. Besides, Gordon thinks very highly of him, and I thought you were not indifferent.'

  Katherine flushed. 'I do not trust my judgement, Father.'

  He squeezed her fingers.

  'Sometimes, my love, that is all one can trust.'

  * * *

  Lily Catrigg hurried to the gatehouse tower and slipped into the steward's room. It was barely any warmer inside than out, the logs that smouldered sullenly in the fireplace making little impact on the cold morning air. She looked across at Davis, stretched out on the bed and snoring gently.

  'Davy?'

  At her words he sat up, hand going to his belt, although he had removed his sword. Lily held out a folded paper.

  'Me da's sent me up with this.'

  Davis swung himself off the bed. 'Give it to me.'

  As he reached for the letter Lily snatched it away.

  'Ain't you gonna kiss me first?'

  With an impatient growl he grabbed her arm, making her cry out.

  'I've no time for that now, you stupid wench.'

  He took the letter from her and headed for the door.

  'Wait there,' he told her curtly.

  She was standing before the fire when he returned, clasping her hands together while the white lace edging of her chemise trembled as her breast rose and fell with each anxious breath.

  'Well,' he demanded, 'Have you been watching the inn, as I asked? What have you learned?'

  'Nothing, Davy.' She twisted the fringe of her shawl nervously between her fingers. 'They goes out every morning, drawing.'

  Davis swore roundly and Lily flinched.

  'Drawing, in November? A faradiddle if ever I heard one.' He sat down on the bed and patted his knee. 'Come here.'

  With a smile she moved across to him and he pulled her onto his lap.

  'Do you know where they are today?'

  'They went off to Kelsoe Hill. I heard the servant telling Master Fawden that his master wanted to sketch the bay.' She ran her fingers over his chest. 'Master Fawden says I can wait on them tonight at dinner.'

  'Can you now? Well you must try and find out more about our fine Master Steel. Can you do that for me, Lily?'

  She nodded and he pulled her towards him and began to kiss her.

  'Davy?' she whispered when he let her go.

  'Mmm?' He nuzzled her neck, fondling her.


  'Davy, you do want to marry me, don't you? Only, yesterday, young Tom said –'

  'Now what have I told you about listening to the likes of Tom Goode? I've told you the earl won't let us marry until he's wed to his lady.'

  'But you do love me, Davy, don't you?'

  He pushed her back onto the bed. 'Course I do, pet. Let me show you how much.'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  John made his way back to the headland where he found Matthew hunkered down in a hollow, sheltering from the biting wind while the marram grass hissed around him. As John approached, he was aware of an air of excitement about his man, and looked an enquiry.

  'Someone's been to the marker, master John. About an hour after you left, one of the cobles sailed out and pulled up the line. I couldn't see just what was collected, but it could not have been a large package.'

  'And do we know who was in the boat?'

  Matthew nodded. 'It came straight to the beach here, and the fellow walked up to the shack in the dunes.'

  'Nothing else?'

  Matthew shook his head. 'No sign of the ship, although I did see the maid Lily on the beach shortly after.'

  'I hope you didn't let her distract you from your duties.'

  'No, sir!' replied Matthew, hurt. 'But I saw no sign of the red-sailed ship nor anyone approaching the Keep.'

  'Then let's get back to the inn and make enquiries about that shack. Oh, and we need to pack up. We are leaving in the morning.' John held out his hand and pulled Matthew to his feet. 'Don't worry, we are not going far. We have been invited to stay at the Manor.' He grinned as Matthew turned to stare at him. 'Come on, I'll tell you all about it.'

  As they made their way back to the Three Tuns John gave Matthew a full account of his visit to the Manor.

  'But I thought old Amos Ellingham was a rabid Jacobite.'

  'In his youth, perhaps, but remember that he was locked up after the '15. It ruined his health and broke his spirit, leaving him with a desire for peace.'

  'But why should he invite you to stay?'

  'I am not sure, but he still has all his wits, despite his feeble body. Whatever the reason it suits our purposes very well. To stay longer at the inn would inevitably attract comment.' He looked up. 'Ah, here we are. I'll go up to my room, Matty, and leave you to find out what you can about that shack in the sand dunes. The local people are much more likely to talk to you.'

  An hour later, John sat down to dinner in the tiny private parlour and demanded news from his manservant. He had dismissed Lily once the dishes had been brought in, declaring that as Matthew was eating with him he should serve him, too.

  'You look like a cat that's had the cream, lad, so tell me!'

  'Aye, well, it took a blackjack or two of ale before the fellows in the taproom would open up, but I think it was worthwhile.' Matthew's innocent look was belied by the twinkle in his brown eyes as he added, 'I charged it to your tally, sir. I hope you do not object?'

  'It seems I have little choice. So, what did you learn?'

  'The fisherman who lives in the shack on the beach is none other than Catrigg, father to our pretty serving maid.'

  'Ah. That would explain why she was outside the place the other day, when I rode by,' mused John. 'And why she was on the beach today. Are you sure she did not go to the Keep?'

  'I didn't see her, sir. I lost sight of her in the sand dunes, but I'd stake my life that no-one came or went on the Sleaton road today.'

  'Very well then. What do you know of Catrigg?'

  Matthew shook his head. 'Seems he keeps very much to himself, but the villagers are happy with that, for the fellow's said to have a wicked temper. His wife died a few years ago and the daughter keeps house for him. Point is,' said Matthew, sitting down to his own meal, 'he sends most of his catch up to Warenford Keep.'

  John grinned.

  'Then we can assume there is some connection between the red-sailed ship and the Keep? Good. You've done well, Matthew. Tomorrow, we will take a ride along the beach and see if we can find this Master Catrigg.'

  It was late when John and his man finally left the little parlour. He had tarried over his meal, then insisted that Matthew should not clear the dirty dishes but sit and join him in enjoying the fine brandy supplied by their host. Matthew escorted John from the room, declaring that he would return to clear up the mess once he had seen John safely into bed.

  'By God, Matty you fuss over me like a nursemaid,' remarked John as they made their way to the outside door, from where they could take the stairs to the gallery.

  'I know you are perfectly able to look after yourself,' growled his man, scowling, 'but I'd rather take your coat away for brushing, and fold away your waistcoat than have you drop-em all of a pickle on the floor!'

  John laughed but as he reached the door he stopped, putting up a hand to silence his man. Raised voices could be heard from the yard, with the landlord's gruff voice carrying above all.

  'Go to, Catrigg. Let the lass be.'

  'And I wants to know why she's still here at this hour.'

  John looked out from the shadowy passage into the yard, where torches flared in the chilly darkness. A rough-looking man in a leather jerkin was glaring at the landlord. His lank fair hair had escaped from its tie and he swayed slightly as he fixed Fawden with a bleary eye. Beside him, Lily was shivering, and clutching her shawl about her. She said plaintively, 'I was doin' no harm, 'Da…'

  'And I say any god-fearing lass would have been home a good hour since.'

  'Oh? And how would you know if I was or not?' Lily fired back. 'Since you is allus here until you're as drunk as a wheelbarrow.'

  With a snarl Catrigg swung his fist and Lily cowered away, whimpering as he grabbed her.

  'I'll teach you to talk back to me, girl!'

  'I say, Fawden. Fawden, my good man!'

  John stepped out into the yard, a faint smile on his lips as he surveyed the tableau. At the sound of his voice the man Catrigg had paused and he stood now, holding Lily by the arm with his fist raised menacingly over her. John minced forwards, his handkerchief trailing from the fingers of his left hand while with his right he lifted his quizzing glass and surveyed the scene with the air of one examining a rare painting.

  'Hmm. Yes, well, Fawden,' John drawled, every inch the great man. 'Profuse apologies m'dear sir for keepin' you up so late, but we have finished now and you can send in your gel to clear away.'

  Catrigg's mouth was open as he stared at John with a mixture of belligerence and bewilderment on his flushed features. He did resist when Lily pulled herself free but remained, swaying slightly and blinking at the fine gentleman before him. John smiled and flicked a coin to her.

  'Here you are, gel, take this for your pains. It was good of you to wait up.'

  It was Lily's turn to stare open-mouthed at the shining silver coin in her palm before her father regained his wits and reached across to snatch the coin away.

  'I'll take that,' he growled. He looked up at John and touched his forehead. 'Very good of you, me lord, I'm sure. Well, girl, go and clear 'is lordship's table' He tossed the coin in the air and caught it deftly. 'I'll be waitin' for you in the taproom.'

  John watched the girl scurry into the passage, followed at a slower pace by her father. Fawden cast a frowning look at the gentleman standing in the yard, gently swinging his quizzing glass on its black ribbon, but John merely returned the look with a bland smile before making his way to the stairs, where Matthew was waiting for him.

  'Let us hope we have spared Lily a beating,' he murmured.

  Matthew's lip curled.

  'What a bully! In all likelihood he'll drink himself into a stupor with that money.'

  John sighed. 'For the girl's sake, let us hope so. But here is an opportunity, Matthew. I shall go up to bed, but you, I think, should adjourn to the taproom for one last bumper, and see what you can learn from our friend Catrigg.'

  John was asleep when Matthew retired some hours later and his report the next m
orning was disappointing.

  'Catrigg's as surly as a bear, and about as talkative,' said Matthew, as they rode out of Sleaton. 'He fishes from the bay, lives in the hut and most of his catch goes to the Keep. More than that he would not say, and although he was as drunk as an owl I didn't want to press him too hard and make him suspicious. So, I am sorry, sir,' he finished with a sigh. 'We are no further forward.'

  'Oh I don't know,' said John, nodding towards a cloaked figure standing at the side of the road. He touched his hat.

  'Good morning, Lily.'

  Lily gave a furtive glance up and down the road then stepped forward.

  'I just wanted to see you, to thank you for what you did for me last night.'

  'Think nothing of it, my dear.'

  'Well it was good of you, sir, an', an' if there's anything I can do…'

  'Does your father hit you often?' said Matthew, looking at her with ready sympathy.

  Lily shrugged. 'Only when he's in his cups, and that's only when he's been paid, like.'

  'He sends his fish up to the Keep, does he not?' John enquired.

  'Aye. I takes it up on the hand-cart.'

  'And anything else, Lily?' Matthew leaned down towards her. 'Do you take letters or packages to the Keep?'

  Lily looked wary, but she nodded.

  'And did you take a message yesterday?' he continued.

  'Aye, sir.'

  'To give to Lord Warenford?'

  She laughed at that.

  'Bless you no, sir. I wouldn't be allowed to talk to the earl. No, sometimes me da' gives me a packet to take up to Davy.'

  'Davy?'

  'Master Davis, the steward.' Even under the shadow of her hood they could see the blush on her cheek.

  'Is he your beau, then?' Matthew asked gently.

  Again Lily looked wary. 'I ain't to say.'

  'Then we shall press you no further,' said John.

  Lily's face lit up with a beatific smile.

  'I said you was good men, when I first sees you! I told Davy that when he asked me to find out what you was doing in Sleaton.'

  John and Matthew exchanged glances.

  'And what did you tell him, Lily?' asked John