The Valcourt Heiress

by Catherine Coulter

  “But you said you caught him. How? And how did you find Arthur’s silver?”

  Men were gathering around them now, listening. Merry pressed close to Garron’s side.

  “It was Miggins, Garron, she was watching the old crone whilst everyone else gathered around the tinker’s mules and looked at all his goods. Since they arrived late, not an hour before sunset, I invited them to pass the night within. I did not question it when Miggins chose to sleep near them in the great hall. Miggins followed the old woman when she went to the jakes in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in the solar when Miggins fetched me. She told me the old woman only stopped at the jakes, then she went to your bedchamber, unaware that Miggins was behind her. Miggins said the old crone was on her knees over the hidey hole where Lisle had hidden Lady Anne’s gowns after her death.”

  “But I myself looked into that hole, there was nothing there. Merry, you and Lisle and Miggins removed all the clothes, the shoes, did you not?”

  Merry nodded.

  “There was another hole beneath the boards, a larger space than the one above. It was filled with leather pouches filled with silver coins, and the old woman was pulling them out, making a stack next to her. I crept up behind her, clasped my hands together and sent my fists against her ears. She shrieked and fell back. I ripped the wig off and there lay Jason of Brennan.”

  Amazing, Garron thought, it was not a bad plan.

  Aleric bowed his head. “I came to tell you myself so you could punish me immediately for my blindness. I should have stripped those old birds down to their wrinkled hides. You must look to me and at my failure. Aye, I failed in my responsibility, I did not see what was before my own eyes. If it were not for Miggins—”

  Garron said over him, “If you had not let the two old people pass the night at Wareham, why then, we would not know where Arthur had hidden the silver coins. I prefer to believe it was your plan all along—to neatly trap Jason of Brennan once you had him within. You set Miggins to watch him. You caught him, Aleric, his arse in the air pulling the pouches from beneath the floor. Did you bring the silver here?”

  “Nay, my lord, I did not wish to tempt the king to see all those piles of silver coins. It would strain a saint’s morals.”

  “Aye, it would.” Garron sighed. “Still, the king will doubtless remove more than we would wish to give him.” He rubbed his hands together. “Was he humiliated to be found in an old woman’s gown, with ancient seams painted on his face, his teeth blackened, a grizzled wig on his head?”

  “Oh aye, it was a magnificent sight. His rage turned his face red as fresh blood, particularly when I called him by name, and he knew then he could not try to fool me. Do you know, the fool tried to fight me in his gown? I knocked him sideways and sent my boot into his ribs. Then he tried to bribe me, swore he would share the silver with me. I kicked him again. As I told you, he now resides in the granary, his ancient tinker husband with him. I believe I recognized Sir Halric, but I am not completely certain since he did not take off his disguise, and he refused to tell me his name. I left both of them in their ancient old clothes and their hideous faces.” A huge grin split Aleric’s face. “Oh aye, I see the truth of things now. You are right, Garron. It was my plan all along. I solved the riddle of the missing silver coins and I caught our greatest enemy, the Black Demon. Aye, I was brilliant and I deserve a knighthood. What say you?”

  Garron smacked Aleric’s arm again. “Why not? Let us see what the king has to say about this.” He paused. “Mayhap Miggins should have a knighthood as well.”

  The king allowed he would consider the knighthood once he’d seen the silver coins with his own eyes. He commanded them to leave at once for Wareham since he feared that villains were lurking behind every tree, and he wanted to take no more chances with the silver. He even suggested Merry and Garron could be wed at Wareham by the king’s chancellor.

  And so it was that Garron and Merry, Sir Lyle, and Aleric left London an hour later with all their men and the king’s blessing, Robert Burnell accompanying them to ensure, as the king himself put it, “That there be an accurate accounting of the silver and a just amount removed as a tithe to your king.”

  When Garron saw the king huddled with Burnell, he knew the just amount of Arthur’s silver was likely to be very great indeed. His last memory of the king was of him rubbing his hands together, his Plantagenet blue eyes alight with excitement.

  And Garron wondered, Where did you get all those silver coins, Arthur? Surely not from Jason of Brennan. And how did Jason of Brennan know where to find the silver this time?

  45

  Merry slowly opened her eyes to see blurry bed hangings surrounding her. She blinked several times until her vision slowly began to clear. But the pain in her head still pounded fiercely. She pressed her palms against her temples and forced herself to sit up. She pushed back the bed hangings and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Soft material slid up her legs and she saw she was wearing a gauzy bedgown that covered her from throat to ankle, white, and beautifully stitched. She looked around, saw a low fire burning in the grate. She was in a bedchamber, she was warm, and she was alone.

  The only problem was, she had no idea where she was.

  She continued to massage her temples until the pain slowly receded. Her mouth felt dry. She picked up the carafe of water on a small table beside the bed and raised it to her mouth.

  And she remembered—her kidnapping, her meeting with her mother, then nothing at all. She set the carafe back down. Her mother could very well have drugged the water.

  She called out, “Mother?”

  There was no answer. Apparently she was indeed alone, unless her mother had either left or made herself invisible, which wouldn’t surprise her.

  Slowly she got to her feet and took several steps. She was steady. She searched the room, not very large, and in the shape of a near half circle. No, more like a sickle, just like the one in which she’d awakened after those two men had brought her here. Why build rooms in such odd shapes?

  Here was where?

  She didn’t know. She had to get away from this place, she had to get back to Garron. She rifled through a chest sitting at the foot of the bed. She found several gowns, beautiful gowns that the queen’s ladies would happily covet. One was green as the richest emerald, another scarlet, the third pure white. And there were matching leather and silk slippers and hose and undergarments. Whose were they? Her mother’s?

  She quickly pulled off the beautiful bedgown and dressed herself. The gowns fit her perfectly. She didn’t understand any of this, but it didn’t matter. She had to leave this place, wherever this place was, and get back to Garron.

  There was no window in the room. All the shadowy light came from the sluggishly burning fire. What time was it? What day was it? How much time had passed since she’d first been brought here?

  She hurried to the door and quietly pulled down the latch. It was locked. Well, what did she expect? A prisoner, that’s what she was, her mother’s prisoner. Rage filled her and she jerked again on the latch. To her surprise the door opened this time. She looked at the latch for a moment, wondering why it hadn’t opened the first time she’d tried it. She looked into a darkened narrow corridor. At the far end of the corridor, she saw a staircase. There was a door directly opposite her, but she wasn’t about to go in there. She lightly ran down the stairs. Once at the bottom, she looked through the shadows shrouding the corridor and could make out the main door.

  She heard a noise. Was her mother coming?

  She heard the latch give on the front door and quickly pressed herself against the wall, deep in the shadows. She watched the thick wooden door open. It wasn’t her mother who entered, it was an old woman carrying a basket in her arms, and humming.

  She looked neither right nor left, merely walked down the corridor toward the stairs, toward Merry. Evidently she was bringing the prisoner some food. Merry waited until she was nearly in front of her. She grabbed the old w
oman by the neck and dragged her back against her. She said against that old ear, “Don’t you dare drop that basket. I am very thirsty and hungry.” She lessened the pressure on the old throat.

  “You’re bringing me food?”

  “Aye. Ye’re hurting me, young’un.”

  “Where are we?”

  The old woman was silent a moment, Merry could feel her surprise. “Ye don’t know? Why, we are in the witch’s tower. I am taking care of ye until she returns.”

  “When will the witch come back here?”

  “I don’t know, mayhap another day. I do what she tells me to do, naught more, naught less, else she’ll turn me into a lizard. Ye’re hungry, are ye, young’un? The witch said she left water fer ye, her special water, and I was to bring ye food today.”

  How many days had she passed in limbo? Merry knew that if her mother walked into her tower, she’d have killed her in that moment.

  “Where do you come from?”

  “From the woodcutter’s cottage, not far from here. The witch came to me and offered me two ha’pennies to take care of ye. I knew I didn’t have a choice since I didn’t want to die a lizard. Then a beautiful young knight came to my cottage and asked me where the witch was. I told him, aye, and why not? He gave me two whole silver pennies, so beautiful they were, they shined like God’s face in the sunlight when the sun finally showed itself.”

  Garron. “Did you tell him to come here?”

  “Aye, he was searching for ye. Later he and his men rode back past my cottage. I suppose he didn’t find ye.”

  Thank St. Ebert’s valiant heart her mother hadn’t killed Garron. Had her mother seen him? Spoken to him? She thought she probably had. But she’d wager she’d magicked him, or drugged him just as she’d drugged her daughter. But he was all right, thank the good Lord and all his bearded apostles.

  How had he gotten away from her?

  “What will I do with my silver?”

  Merry eyed the old woman. “Do not worry, I will take all the silver you have and use it well. We’re leaving now. You’re taking me back to your cottage, and then you will tell me how to get back to London.”

  “Think ye the witch will demand back the silver she already gave me? Think ye she will turn me into a lizard?”

  “It’s likely, so I’ll let you keep your coins and you can return them to her when she comes.”

  “What will it matter? I will be dead by nightfall, she will kill me.”

  Merry said, “You said she would turn you into a lizard. Well, I believe you would make a fine lizard. Just think how very fast you will climb trees. How long have you been tending me?”

  “Two days now. I wake ye up, bathe ye, feed ye, give ye some drink from this bottle of water yer mother left fer ye, and help ye relieve yerself. Then ye drift off again, like a sweet little lamb.”

  Merry took the basket from the old woman and led her unresisting out the wooden front door.

  She looked back at the stark, ugly tower that sat in the middle of an enclosure. Was Garron still in London? Did he believe her dead, and returned to Wareham? She didn’t know what to do. But at least she knew how to begin.

  “Let us go,” she told the old woman. “Quickly.”

  They walked through the woods, as fast as she could prod the old woman along. Merry wished the old woman was a lizard, they’d certainly move faster. When finally they reached the small clearing where the woodcutter’s hut sat, Merry stopped and looked carefully around. “How do I get out of this forest?”

  The old woman pointed. Merry opened the basket and looked inside. There were slices of partridge, a thick loaf of brown bread, and a flask. She smiled at the old woman. “There is a lot of food here. What would you like to have?”

  The old woman immediately picked up the brown bread. When Merry pointed to the meat, she shook her head.

  “Would you like what is in the flask?”

  “Nay, young’un. Ye’re thirsty, ye drink it. And the meat, it’ll fill up yer belly.”

  Merry grabbed the meat, set the basket on the ground, and began running toward the woods. She called out over her shoulder, “Enjoy your dreams.”

  She’d no sooner reached the trees when she heard a loud whooshing sound. She dove behind a thick, ancient maple tree.

  46

  WAREHAM CASTLE

  It trained only one day on their journey back to Wareham, a light, warm rain that even Robert Burnell didn’t mind. He merely wound his long woolen scarf around his head and tied it beneath his chin. All thoughts, all conversation, Robert Burnell’s included, was about Arthur’s silver coins. Garron actually saw Burnell rubbing his hands together, doubtless contemplating the king’s pleasure when he returned to place pouches of silver coins in the king’s eager hands. The king had sent twenty of his most trusted soldiers with Burnell to guard his share. Damn you, Arthur.

  It seemed to Garron that he was the only one who cared where the silver coins had come from.

  He looked over at Merry, who was humming a tune he’d heard at court. She wore no covering over her head. Her glorious hair shone beneath the afternoon sun, long and loose, not a single small braid hidden here or there. The queen’s ladies must have told her the thick plaits were for a child, not a grown lady who was shortly to marry. He wanted to tell her they were wrong, that he really liked the fat plaits and the small hidden braids, and the smell of her hair. He pulled Damocles close to her mare. “You’re thoughtful. Are you making a list of all that you wish to do with Arthur’s silver?”

  “Lists. Why do you always think I am making lists, my lord?”

  He cocked his head at her. “You always are, just as I am.”

  She cocked her head back at him, then gave him a look that made him want to grab her off her mare’s back, set her facing him, and wish them alone, all in the space of a moment. Would she enjoy him this time? Probably not, it was too soon. He needed time and privacy, aye, lots of time, and his wits about him this time. He grinned, looking around at the score of men who rode around them, then back at her.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Merry asked.

  “I am remembering our one night together. I am remembering how your breasts felt in my hands, how you tasted. I am remembering how it felt to tear through your maidenhead.” Simply saying that word made him shudder. “And I am remembering how Gilpin thought murder was being done in my chamber.”

  She said nothing at all, looked straight ahead between her horse’s ears.

  “I am sorry I hurt you, Merry.” Still she said nothing. He arched a black brow. “What is this? You do not wish to berate me? You do not wish to tell me it was all my fault?”

  “It was your fault.”

  “Ha, I was not even there, not really, just the husk of myself. One minute I was dreaming of mighty deeds, the next moment Blanche was astride me, her breasts in my hands. I remember I did not understand why she was still wearing her bedgown.”

  Again, she cocked her head at him, then in the space of a moment, he would swear she was embarrassed. Well, she should be, since she’d been the one to come to him. She raised her chin. “I have nothing to say about it.”

  He was charmed. He said, voice low, “You certainly had a lot to say then.”

  “A lady must speak upon certain occasions or else be ground under.”

  “Ah, so you’re no longer embarrassed about what you did. Now you’re all smug and pleased with yourself. I wager if we were walking, you would be swaggering. No, don’t look at me like that. It is how you looked at the king and he nearly drooled on you. I will do more than drool, believe me.”

  “I did nothing to the king. It is merely a look, of little account.”

  “Did the queen’s ladies teach you how to do it? I never saw that look before you poured it full measure on the king.”

  “My lord, we are nearly home!”

  Garron slapped her horse’s neck and rode to the front of the column. He looked toward Wareham. His home and it would be his child
ren’s home. A dynasty, he thought. If life dished out more good than bad, he and Merry would build a dynasty that lasted until time passed into a far-distant future.

  He shouted at the top of his lungs, and galloped toward Wareham.

  47

  There were piles of silver pennies, not a single one was cut, all were whole, glistening in the dull light in the lord’s bedchamber, so many of them, piles upon piles, guarded in shifts by a dozen men, and two of his most trusted men, Pali and Hobbs, in charge.

  Garron reached down and gathered a handful and watched them slide through his fingers. The silver weighed heavy. The silver also would make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, even after the king took his own generous share. There was still so much to be done here at Wareham and now he was wealthy enough to accomplish anything he wished to do.

  Burnell said complacently, as he sifted through the piles of silver himself, “Our precious king will be so pleased with you, my lord, I doubt not he will bestow another barony on you. Mayhap even a knighthood for Aleric.”

  Garron heard Aleric draw in his breath behind him. He looked up at him. “Sir Aleric. Now that has a nice sound to it.” And another barony for his dynasty? “Ah, do you believe the king will require more than a just share for this barony?”

  Robert Burnell did not look up from the pile of silver coins he was counting. “Again you indulge in irony, my lord. We will count the silver, and then we will count it again, and then we will see.”

  He was distracted when Merry called out, “Miggins tells me Jason of Brennan is now a very smelly old woman. He cursed you and God in the same breath, she says, and he is demanding trousers.”