by His Ransom
Rosamunde spent the next day in bed. She felt much better by the late afternoon, but Margaret advised caution and Rosamunde obeyed her. With Thomas back she felt less urgency about attending to everything herself. He would keep Guy in check and was respected by everyone. Rosamunde was not troubled by a further visit from the French prisoner, but he was constantly in her thoughts and when she was asleep he was in her dreams. It was not always the same dream. Sometimes he was as he must have been before his leg was damaged and they danced or ran together through the woods. Sometimes he was the man who played merreles and sang songs of love to her. Always the dream ended with him taking her in his arms and kissing her. She was glad he had not come again. It would be bad enough to see him again when she was in full possession of her strength and senses. She had given herself away and he had seen her desire. There was no doubt in her mind but that he knew that she lusted after him. She was ashamed. She was no better than Berthe. Worse, for at least Berthe had been open about her lust.
Now that she had touched him, she hungered to touch him again, but she knew that she could not. Yes, she would touch him when he taught her to protect herself, but Margaret would be there. It had not been easy to persuade Margaret to keep such a secret from Thomas. Rosamunde was not even sure how long such a secret could be kept. Margaret would not tell, but Thomas would soon realise that something was wrong and there were other eyes on Rosamunde. They would use her father’s bedchamber. If they moved the bed and placed the small amount of furniture on top of it they would have enough space. With her father away and not expected, no servants would have occasion to enter the bedchamber. Thomas and Guy would not seek her out unless there was an emergency and they would go to the still-room first. She hoped that any emergency would be accompanied by enough noise to alert them so that they could leave her father’s chamber without attracting attention. But Richard was right; it was a small castle and people noticed things and drew conclusions. Someone was bound to see them walking through the castle together when they should be in the still-room, or someone would hear a noise from the bedchamber as they were passing by and questions would be asked.
She tried to convince herself that nothing would change. She and Richard had spent their afternoons together in the still-room in Margaret’s company. Now they would be in her father’s chamber. She was still doing nothing that could not be reported to her father. He would surely commend her for her common sense. As long as nothing happened.
She recalled that Richard had acted quickly with Berthe and had ignored her advances, but perhaps he would consider that Rosamunde had made her own advances in asking for tuition and it was one thing to turn down the wife of a minor lord and another to turn down the daughter of his gaoler. Between them, over the last few days, Richard and Guy had taught her to look for hidden motives in the actions of others. It was possible that Richard was making himself pleasing to her so that he could use her affections against her father. It seemed to her that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by such actions. She did not want to think that of him, but she had been too trusting where Sir Walter was concerned and she did not want to make the same mistake again. She determined to give no further sign of what she felt. It would be up to him to act or not and then she would draw her own conclusions.
Chapter Six
Once in the duke’s bedchamber the three of them slowly moved the furniture out of the way. There was not much to move, but it was heavy. Although he was the strongest of the three, Richard’s weak leg meant that he could not take the weight of the heavier items, so Margaret and Rosamunde did most of the work. None of them said anything, but Rosamunde guessed that this must have caused him some embarrassment. Margaret’s face was set in disapproval and even Richard seemed to feel the force of it. He appeared less confident and more guarded than usual and kept glaring at Margaret. She, however, did not deign to glance at him, but kept her eyes fixed on Rosamunde. When the room was ordered, Margaret stood in a corner, out of the way, but dominating the room.
Rosamunde had always carried a knife on her belt, but when she showed it to him, Richard laughed. “This will serve you better.” From his belt, he pulled out a long blade with a small wooden handle and placed it in her hand. She looked at him in surprise. It was the first time she had held a knife that she could hold comfortably.
“I made the handle to fit your hand and the blade is light enough for you to use for fighting,” he explained. She blushed. It was only because she had grasped his hand when she was ill that he could have decided upon its size. “It will be easier to use because you will have a better grip on it and you will be able to use the blade.”
She nodded her understanding and tightened her grip on the handle. It felt smooth and warm in her hand.
Richard took it from her gently. “Hold it like this.” He demonstrated then gave it back and she copied him. He corrected her hold with his fingers, but not before he had looked at Margaret and then shifted his body slightly so that she could see what he was doing.
As soon as Rosamunde could hold the knife to Richard’s satisfaction he took it from her and began to show her how her body must move. He was a good teacher and she was a quick learner and they soon moved on to mock fights. Richard had brought her a wooden training knife and she practised stabbing and slashing at him. He parried with his own practice knife and occasionally caught Rosamunde on the arm. She felt that she must be bruised, but reasoned that no bruises would be seen through her sleeves and the momentary pain was a small enough price to pay. She was grateful for the current fashion that called for sleeves to be buttoned from the elbow to the wrist. They did not hinder her movement as her skirts did. She would have to give some thought to her clothing. It would be of little use to know what to do if she could not do it when the time came because of her skirts.
She noticed that Richard fought awkwardly, favouring his right leg. He was not yet used to the new balance that he was struggling to find and his crippled leg would not bear his full weight.
Despite his lack of balance, he still found it easy to best her. She wondered, however, how he would fare against a more efficient or stronger opponent. She was so worried about that thought that he caught her off guard and she fell to the floor from the force of his movement.
“I am sorry, Rosamunde,” he said as he bent to help her up. “I did not mean to cause you harm.”
“I am not hurt. I lost concentration for a moment.”
“Rosamunde?” Margaret was standing beside Richard, looking at her with some concern.
“I am unhurt.” Rosamunde spoke more sharply than she had intended.
“Perhaps we should stop,” Richard offered.
Rosamunde considered whether he said that for his own sake rather than hers. Even someone as small and inexperienced as her must cause him some pain. Concluding that it was for hers, she shook her head. “No, if you are content to continue, I wish to as well.”
He released her and put the wooden knife back in her hand and they started again. This time she maintained her concentration and continued to learn.
“You do well,” panted Richard as they came to the end of their agreed time.
She noticed that he had been slowing down for some time and hoped that he had not tired himself too much. She knew that he still did not complete the full training time in the morning because of his leg and she feared that his efforts with her would put too much strain on it. She wanted to ask him, but reasoned that his pride would cause him to say that he was well whether he was in pain or not.
Rosamunde was very tired, but had expected it since she was not used to physical effort like this.
“You will recover soon enough,” Richard promised and once again she wondered at his ability to read her thoughts.
She smiled up at him. “I will take your word for that.” Emboldened by his interest she asked, “And you?”
He frowned.
“Will you recover soon enough?” she elaborated.
He though
t for a moment. “It will take a while longer. I am not as fit as I was.”
Grateful for his unexpected honesty, she did not pursue the matter, but as he turned to cross the room and open the door for her, she noticed that his limp was more pronounced than usual. He looked out into the passage before stepping out and looking up and down.
After he had ensured that no one was near, Richard ushered them out of the room. Rosamunde locked the door behind her and they went to the still-room where they were supposed to have been all afternoon.
That night, Rosamunde dreamt again of finding Richard dead, but this time the dream continued as the man who had killed him stepped over his body towards her, bloody sword in his hand and plunged it into her stomach. She awoke with a scream on her lips.
Early the next morning, before it was light, Richard rode out of the castle with an archer to the other side of the river. Guy and Thomas were in the gatehouse to watch them go. Once Richard had decided they were in the right place, the archer pulled out his tinder box and set light to the rags that were tied around one of his arrows. The archer fired the burning arrow into the air as straight as he could without risking it falling back on them. This was the night time signal that they had agreed with the townspeople. Watchers from the castle had been set by the three roads that led into the town and at the mouth of the river. Depending on whether it was day or night they had agreed on different signals. These men were to alert whoever was on duty in the tower of the church nearest the river. He was to start ringing the bell, which was the signal for everyone to get inside the castle. Richard watched the arrow rise into the dark sky, then turned his eye onto the town. It was some time before there was movement in the town and even longer before the bells started the alarm. Immediately lights appeared at the castle windows as the well-trained garrison sprang into action.
After a few minutes Richard and his escort rode back towards the castle at a leisurely pace, taking the part of Sir Walter’s men. They overtook most of the townspeople on the way and the gates were shut behind them as they entered the castle. Rosamunde came into the bailey to meet them wearing a heavy cloak over her shift, her hair hanging in a heavy plait down her back. She must have come straight from her bed. Richard was captivated by her appearance, until he noticed that she was having the same effect on all the men. He almost stepped in front of her to hide her from their view, but remembered that she was not his to protect in that way.
He was surprised at what he felt. It was a kind of jealousy, as if no one but he should see Rosamunde looking like this. She looked magnificent. Her eyes flared with barely controlled anger. Some of her hair had come loose from her plait and curled around her face. He wondered how the curls would feel between his fingers. She must have had a restless night. He hid a smile as he thought about how it would be to be the man who caused her restless nights. He looked across at Guy. The younger man was much less practised than Richard at hiding his thoughts and Richard knew that he was thinking something similar.
“My lady,” Richard said loudly, “You should not be here. We could have reported to you in the morning.” His words had broken the spell and all the men coughed or shuffled guiltily. He felt a sudden flash of anger.
She gave him her full attention and he realised that she had been avoiding looking at him. He was taken aback as he saw the fear in her eyes. Had she thought the alarm was real? They had discussed practising in the dark, but now that he thought about it he realised that Rosamunde had not been told when it was to be.
“I would rather know at first hand, my lord.” He smiled at that. She was playing his game. To his surprise she did not return his smile, nor did the fear leave her eyes. Something else had scared her, then, and somehow he reminded her of it.
“It was not a great success,” said Guy, unwisely thought Richard, given Rosamunde’s mood.
“I can see that,” snapped Rosamunde and Guy cringed. Richard felt the force of her despair. The siege would be over the day it began if anyone stayed outside for Sir Walter to take hostage. Then Rosamunde would be taken and would be his wife. A few days ago this had seemed dishonourable, but not wholly terrible. Women were given or taken in marriage and what sort of man their husband was was irrelevant. Men married to further their ambition or for money. He dared not think about them marrying for love for he would have to think about Louise. Women married because a man ordained it, whether it be their father, brother, son or abductor, but now he thought how wrong it would be for Rosamunde to be forced to marry anyone who had to stoop to stealing her away. She was a spirited woman who would take some handling, but she should not be forced into marriage with a man for whom no one had any respect. She would not have to love her husband, but she would have to respect him. He should be a man who could win her, not steal her. Her husband should be her equal, or her better, but he was coming to doubt such a man existed. She was the equal of most of the men he had known and the better of the rest. No one deserved her, ‘except you’, whispered a small voice in his head.
“Bring the burgesses,” Rosamunde ordered and Thomas disappeared. Rosamunde finally gave way to her anger when the burgesses were brought to her and it was discovered that, with the exception of William Archer, they had been among the first to enter the castle.
“How dare you!” she raged. “You left your people behind to save your own skins. The gatekeepers will have orders from now on to keep you out until everyone else is inside. You are responsible for these people. You cannot put your own safety before theirs.”
The men began to argue with her. They were not as used as the men in the castle to taking her orders and thought they could browbeat her. Richard and Guy moved to stand behind Rosamunde and Richard noticed the head burgess blanch as Thomas stepped forward to stand at Rosamunde’s side.
“I do not need your help,” Rosamunde hissed and Thomas stepped back quickly, although Richard noticed out of the corner of his eye that he kept his hand near his sword.
Rosamunde took a breath. “You think I am weak, because I am a woman, but you are mistaken. While my father is gone I am in his place. Anything I say, he says, anything I do, he does. I am responsible for these people, as you are responsible for them. If I thought I could avoid all this by giving myself to Sir Walter, I would, but my father has told me to stand against him, so I will obey him, as will you.” She paused, as if waiting for them to say something to the contrary, but they were silent. Richard hoped that he was the only one who could see that she was shaking. Whether from anger or fear he could not tell, but either would rob her of her reason.
“Good,” she said quietly. “We will do this again today and tonight and tomorrow and tomorrow night and you will make sure that everyone else is safe before you enter into this castle. Wait!” The burgesses had made to move off. Rosamunde turned towards Guy. “Fetch all the gatehouse guards.”
Guy left the bailey and returned quickly with six men, who stood attentively, their eyes fixed on Rosamunde. Richard wondered if Guy had told them to show the proper respect, but there had probably been no need. All the soldiers behaved towards her as they would to her father.
“Look closely,” Rosamunde commanded them. “These are the burgesses of the town. When the alarm is given they are to be admitted last.”
To Richard’s surprise the guards walked up to the burgesses and looked at them carefully. They must surely have known who these men were. Then he understood. Guy had told them to obey Rosamunde’s orders to the letter. The burgesses also understood and shifted nervously under their examination. The guards were all armed, although Richard knew that only two of them were on duty at the moment. Now he did smile at Guy’s prescience and he revised once more his estimation of the young man. He may not be astute, but he understood Lady Rosamunde. Then Richard’s smile faded as he realised that Guy’s apparent understanding might lead him into other thoughts entirely. The duke’s young protégé would bear watching.
Apparently satisfied, all six guards turned back towards Rosamunde.
“Thank you,” she said and Guy led them away.
The burgesses looked towards Rosamunde and Richard was gratified to see fear in their eyes. It was as it should be – they should fear her as they would fear their lord. What a woman she was. Her husband would not need to worry about his estates while he was away with such a woman to stand in his stead. He had long since ceased to wonder at the loyalty she inspired in Guy and Thomas and now he found himself falling under her spell. Rosamunde would not let her husband down and he envied that man, whoever he might be. He looked once more at Guy, wondering if he saw himself in that rôle.
As Rosamunde turned to make her sweeping exit, he caught her eye. Her triumphant expression faded, to be replaced by the fear he had seen earlier. He almost took a step towards her to comfort her before he realised that it would destroy the effect she had so successfully created. Instead he and Thomas followed her and Richard cursed himself for spoiling her dignified exit with his limping gait. He did not have to think hard to understand why she was fearful when she looked at him; it was he who had identified her weakness and now he had shown how vulnerable she was.
When they were inside the castle Rosamunde called to them, “Come with me,” and they followed her to her father’s solar.
“That was well done, my lady,” said Richard before Thomas could get his own praise in. Rosamunde continued to avoid his eyes and he was puzzled. She was usually very open, even to him.
“Are you well, Rosamunde?” Thomas did what Richard had not dared and stepped forward to take her hand.
“It is nothing, the after effects of my illness.”