by His Ransom
He fell silent and Rosamunde did not question him further. Her father would respect and trust a man of his word as Richard had shown himself to be. A man who would go against his own father for a matter of honour would be a good man to protect her. Unlike Thomas and Guy he could not be distracted by other responsibilities. He would not have to worry about his wife and children like Thomas, or his sister and his nephew like Guy. The only duty he had was to protect Rosamunde or die trying.
“Thank you. I understand why you did not wish to speak of it, but I am glad that you told me.”
He fixed his eyes on her and she could not look away.
“I accept that it was important for you to know. I had thought your father put it in his letter.”
“There was much he did not write.” There was so much she did not know. She was curious about this man, but she sensed that it would be futile to expect him to reveal himself quickly. He did not seem to have a need to communicate anything about himself.
She watched his face carefully. He seemed to be undergoing some kind of internal struggle. Then he sighed.
“Rosamunde, your father sent me here to help you or to die in the attempt. My life has no value to anyone, except in that I can save yours.”
Rosamunde made no response. She knew what her father had done, but it would not have been her choice. “You are a sensible woman,” he continued, “And I trust that you will only question me where you think it is necessary. Therefore I commit to you that I will answer your questions truthfully and hold nothing back.”
Rosamunde bit back the appreciative smile that threatened to overwhelm her face. How clever he was. By promising to answer her questions he had made sure that she would ask none. Instead she said, “Thank you. I shall hold you to your promise.”
Even when she saw his frown she held back her grin. “Your move, I think.”
If her father had known the effect that Richard was having on her he would not have sent him. For he was indeed having a strange effect on her. She looked forward to his company in the evening. That was understandable. He was of her own rank and educated. They could discuss things she could not discuss with Thomas or Guy or Margaret. Two days ago he had helped her down from her horse when they returned from their examination of the castle’s defences. As he had held her about the waist she wondered how it would feel to be kissed by him. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for he set her down quickly and led her horse away. She wanted him to touch her again, but he did not. Something, however, had changed and he became even less communicative with her than he had before. He was getting a reputation within the castle for being aloof. Thomas said it was because his English was so poor that he did not want to risk being misunderstood, but Rosamunde knew that it must be something else. Of course, he did not want to be here. He was a prisoner and far from home, but Rosamunde now knew that he did not want to be at home, either. He could not, in fact, go home.
She decided to broach the subject to him. She did not think it would be covered by his promise to hide nothing from her if she asked, but she was the chatelaine and if there was the possibility of discord in her father’s castle, it was her responsibility to stop it.
She did not talk to him in the still-room, but sent for him to come into her father’s solar, hoping that the formal request would show him how seriously she took this.
He was wary as he approached her and she wondered if he was thinking about the incident by the stable. Knowing how much his leg pained him, she permitted him to sit.
“I am told that you are not settling in well.”
He looked surprised. “Does someone complain about me?”
“No, nothing like that. It is simply that you do not seem to be comfortable here.” It sounded stupid to her own ears. Of course he was not comfortable; he was a prisoner.
He did not even bother to answer. “You told me you expected to be here for a while,” she said helplessly, “Yet you do not even try to make friends.”
“I do not need friends.” He was scornful. “Perhaps one day Thomas will be a friend and perhaps your father. But you forget, Lady Rosamunde, what I am.”
“You will not be a prisoner for ever.”
“But I will be French for ever. Do you think another treaty will end this war?”
She shook her head.
“We have already been fighting for twenty years. Do you think anyone will trust a Frenchman or want to call him friend in this country?”
“I would.” Rosamunde spoke without thinking. She had forgotten her belief that Richard did not care much what women thought of him, but he surprised her.
“Thank you. Your trust and your friendship are two things that I would value highly if I had them.”
Now Rosamunde hesitated. He smiled. “Do not fear. I know you do not offer your trust and friendship now.”
“I hope that that day is not far off,” she said.
He bowed. “I will do all that I can to deserve both.” And Rosamunde did not doubt for a moment that he would.
She could not spend less time with him. Her father had put her in an intolerable position by nominating him as her protector. They had to be together and in such circumstances as would make her appreciate him more. When she inspected the castle’s defences he went with her. His leg might be weak, but he had strong arms which he used to help her round obstacles. His suggestions when she was in council with Thomas and Guy were always useful and showed his understanding of their situation. Even when they were at rest in the evening he played chess or merelles with her and he played both extremely well.
She was finding it difficult to work with him in the still-room. There was always the temptation to touch him as she passed him something. He had touched her once, but he had been clumsy and she had known that he did it on purpose. What she could not know was whether it had been out of a desire to see her reaction or out of desire for her. Whatever the reason, she had had warning and had not reacted to his touch. Although it had cost her much and she had only been able to do it because she had seen what he was doing. Since he did not follow her with his eyes, she assumed that he did not desire her, but had simply wanted to see what she would do. She was disappointed. She was aware of the effect she had on men and had thought that Richard would be the same, but he was not. She was not disappointed by this. She thought it reflected badly on men that they were so taken by appearance that they were not interested in what was within. Richard was different, perhaps because his own body was so far from perfect. She thought about their conversation regarding virtuous women and could not decide what he had meant. Perhaps he had touched her to see if she could be considered virtuous. She wondered what he would have done if she had not had his promise. She would never know. She had his promise and from the way he had had to think about giving it, she knew that it was a promise he would keep.
For a fleeting moment she considered betrothing herself to him, just to keep Sir Walter at bay, but she knew it could not be done without her father’s permission and Sir Walter would undoubtedly recognise the betrothal for the ruse that it would be.
No, her only hope was that they could keep Sir Walter outside the castle long enough for him to decide to give up or for help to come from another one of her father’s estates.
Although there was a chance that she would end up as the wife of Sir Walter, despite all their efforts, Rosamunde gave some thought to the man her father would choose for her husband. She wondered how much choice she would have this time and whether he would look for someone as pleasing to her as Simon had been. Everything would be focused on Henry now. Although Henry was of age, he was not yet betrothed and their father would want to find a suitable wife for him. She was afraid that she would end up living somewhere far away from her father and brother. Men of their rank were few and even fewer had sons of what Rosamunde would consider an acceptable age.
Rosamunde wanted to be able to respect her husband. She had been fortunate in Simon, who had been intelligent and good company.
She had been happy that he was handsome as well, but she would have loved him and respected him if he had been ugly. What she wanted, she decided, was a man like Richard who was clever, articulate in his own language and knew how to defend what belonged to him, or in this case, what belonged to his lord. It seemed to her that whatever she thought of these days, her thoughts always returned to Richard. But Richard had not shown in any way that he looked upon her as anything other than the daughter of his jailer. She knew that she was beautiful; she had been told often enough and for most men that was all the encouragement that was required to press their suit, formally or informally. But Richard had shown no interest in her. It was possible that she simply could not recognise the signs or that they did things differently in France, but she did not think they could be done that differently.
She was no closer to deciding about the kind of man her father would choose for her. But she knew that whatever his choice, it would be better than Sir Walter.
She kept her mind more completely on the coming siege and how they could defend themselves. Sir Walter was clever, but poor. There would be no money to hire mercenaries or great weapons of war. He would also know that her father would be home soon, so he could not expect to have long. He must also know that the king would not look with favour on one of his lords laying siege to the castle of one of his dukes while he was fighting for the king in France. And it occurred to Rosamunde then that if Sir Walter was to come against the castle, he must come certain of success and in a very short time.
“But a castle cannot be taken quickly,” said Thomas when she broached the idea that evening, “Especially not a castle such as this.”
“No, Rosamunde is right,” said Richard. “He cannot afford a long siege.”
“He cannot mean to trick his way in,” said Thomas. “And he cannot fight his way in quickly. What other way is there?”
“His object,” said Richard slowly, as if he was thinking it through, “Is not to take the castle, or to destroy it. It is simply to remove Rosamunde from within its walls.”
“Or get me to leave.”
Richard looked at her carefully. “And what would make you leave, Rosamunde? The townspeople know that they must come into the castle when they see the signal and the signal will be given when anything unusual happens.”
Rosamunde thought. What would make her leave the castle while her father was away? She had gone out through the spring and summer to inspect the fields with the steward, but the harvest was gathered in now and there was no reason for her to go. She might leave if there were a fair in a nearby town, but she would go in a large crowd of armed men; the roads were not as safe as they had been. But having received warning from her father, which Sir Walter must suspect she had had, she would not leave for any trivial reason. Then she had it. “If my father were to return, I would go down to the jetty to meet his ship and I would know it was him because he would be flying his standard.”
Thomas and Richard looked at one another.
Guy said, “But he is too poor to be able to afford a ship.”
“He would not have to come far,” said Richard. “He would only need it for a day.”
“What else?” asked Richard, “What else would make you leave the castle? We must guard against all these things.”
The list was not long and it was only as Rosamunde rose to go to bed that Richard said, “You should not leave the castle at all from now on, not even to tour the walls with me and Thomas.”
“No,” she answered quietly, “I understand that I am to be as much a prisoner as you from now on.”
After a few days Rosamunde grew weary of Guy following her around warning her not to trust the crippled Frenchman and she began to avoid him. But no matter where she hid, he would always find her and tell her that Richard was the enemy and could not be trusted to help them in their fight against Sir Walter, regardless of what her father believed. Rosamunde could not be angry with him; she knew that he acted out of concern for her and the people of the castle. Her father had left him in charge when he had gone to France and he had taken the responsibility seriously. He would have preferred to have gone to war with his lord, but he had eventually realised that having command of the castle was a better sign of his lord’s confidence in him. Unlike some of the people in the castle, however, he also realised that it was Rosamunde who was in charge. His place was to give advice and to ensure that the garrison was ready, should it be called upon. Rosamunde had come to rely on him and had determined to ask Simon to take Guy with them when they married. He would rise no further in her father’s household and there was little prospect of a good marriage for him. Rosamunde had tried to find out whether he had a preference among the single women. He would only admit that he had, but she could never prise from him her identity. Sometimes she watched him to see who he favoured, but was never able to catch him spending time or with anyone other than his sister.
Guy had grown used to his position of trusted advisor and she had been happy to heed his advice, until now.
“Do you think he means to kill us in our beds?” she asked him impatiently when he had come upon her in her father’s solar on his way to the training yard.
“Not until his leg is better,” said Guy. “He won’t get far on a horse with a leg like that.”
Rosamunde stared at him. Guy had been a soldier all his life; surely he understood how serious Richard’s injuries were. She looked at him closely and saw that he did not. “His leg will not get much better than this,” she explained. “He is lucky to be able to walk at all. He must have had the services of a very good physician when he injured it. I think it will hurt less eventually and he will be able to ride a little, but he will not be able to control a horse with his legs again.” Rosamunde knew that a knight who could not guide his horse to battle with his legs could not be a knight, for he would not be able to hold his lance in one hand and his shield in the other. He would not be able to charge against the enemy as a knight should. Guy looked chastened for a moment as he considered what the future held for such a man. Then he shook himself slightly and she knew she had seen the extent of his compassion for the man he considered to be his enemy. At the beginning, Guy had resented being left behind by the duke, despite the position of authority he had been given. Having missed his chance to fight the French on their own soil, he thought he was fighting them here in the castle. Rosamunde knew this and sympathised with him, but both men were supposed to be her protectors and she could not have them fighting one another.
“Just because he can’t make good his escape doesn’t mean that he won’t kill us all,” Guy protested.
“Kill all of us? How could he kill all of us without someone stopping him?”
Now Guy smiled and Rosamunde knew that she had brought him to the point of his argument. She was relived. Now she would be able to calm him and they could all get on with preparing for the siege. Guy was intelligent, but neither subtle, nor devious. She doubted he could come up with something that would really threaten their safety
“Poison,” he said triumphantly. “That’s why he wanted access to the still-room.”
Rosamunde wanted to laugh, but then remembered that Guy had been her adviser for the last year and that she had trusted his advice. He was not a man to waste his advice, nor did he take it for granted that she always needed it. He respected her and had only given advice where he knew she was inexperienced or, more rarely, where he did not think she had considered everything before she had made her decision. She wondered which of these he thought applied now. Thomas, who had spent more time with Richard, could be expected to know him better, but Thomas was more trusting and more willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. Guy was the opposite, slow to give his trust, but unswervingly faithful once he had given it. “Very well,” she said. “Let us consider this as a possibility.” She did not herself consider it possible at all, then she remembered Richard’s story and how easily her father had been fooled by Richard’s father. Perhaps Richa
rd himself was foresworn. But why would such a man give himself up as a prisoner if he did not mean to keep his word? While he did not have much future as a soldier, why would he put himself in the way of a long and possibly dangerous sea voyage to a place far away where he would be unwelcome? For he must have known what would happen since he could not pay his own ransom, unless he had hoped that the duke would let him go, believing that the cripple would be of no value. Her father would also have known that he had already been tricked and he would have been far less trusting with Richard. She realised that she was twisting her fingers together in anxiety and stopped. “So,” she said quietly, “Tell me how you think it will happen.”
“He will take some poison from the still-room and put it in the food or the beer.”
“How?” questioned Rosamunde, who knew far better than Guy how everything inside the castle worked.
Guy blinked.
Rosamunde sighed, disappointed that Guy had come to her with his suspicions, but had not thought anything through to its conclusion. “How will he get enough poison to kill everyone without Margaret noticing? She knows what’s in the still-room to the smallest drop. How will he put it in the food or the beer without anyone noticing? He never goes near the kitchens and he would be stopped if he did. And what poison will he use that we will not taste? I know what we have in the still-room and anything that would be fatal is not tasteless.”
“I have not worked out the details, my lady,” said Guy, nervously. This was not like Guy. He usually had his position thought out in every detail before he advised her. If she asked him a question that he had not had time to consider properly, he told her and she either accepted that his advice could be flawed or she gave him more time.