by His Ransom
Thomas must have heard the lie as well as Richard, but he simply nodded and said, “Then you should return to your bed as soon as possible.” Rosamunde’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
Now he understood. She was not scared because the townspeople had taken so long to get into the castle; Rosamunde was afraid to sleep. Of course. She had had a nightmare before when she was ill and had had one tonight. The failure of the townspeople to get safely to the castle would have added to her worries, but he did not understand why the sight of him had made her more afraid. Richard spoke before Rosamunde had a chance to. “Then perhaps we should finish as quickly as possible.”
Thomas was taken aback, but allowed Richard to take over the analysis of what had happened and what they should do differently tomorrow. “But I think the burgesses will help now,” he added. “They are so scared for their own skins that they will make sure everyone else gets in.”
Now Rosamunde did look at him. “Do you think so?”
Such was the force of her despair that he considered carefully before he answered. “Yes, Rosamunde, I believe that they will do it tomorrow and on the day the siege starts.”
He noticed and hoped that Thomas did not, her slight movement as if to throw herself into his arms as if to hug him. Now she smiled. “Then I can ask for nothing more.”
He bowed, more affected by her simple gratitude than he understood.
“Will you escort me to my chamber?” she asked as he rose and he expected her to be addressing Thomas and his heart plummeted as he realised she was asking him.
“Of course.”
He held out his arm and she took it.
He had not expected her to lean on him, but all her weight was on him and he stumbled slightly as both their weights rested on his crippled leg without warning.
“I am sorry,” she said, as she straightened, “I did not know I was so weary.”
“Put your weight on me, Rosamunde, I can bear it.”
She looked into his eyes and he saw doubt. What had he done to deserve that?
She did not lean on him again, but walked beside him. He thought she was trying to come to a decision, but his own mind was whirling. In some way she had found him wanting and he did not know how. He had shown her how to protect the castle, he had shown her how to protect herself, he had even kept himself away from the women as he had promised. He had supported her in everything she had done and obeyed her. Of course, he did not want her approval; she was a woman and did not deserve anything he had to give, but he was tempted. The duke had made it clear that his life was forfeit. The count had betrayed his trust and he was not about to let the son do the same. The duke had expected a substantial ransom for the count and lost it. The count’s crippled son had little value, especially once it became clear that the count would not ransom him. Deciding that since the count did not value his son’s life he would not either, the duke had sent him back to protect Rosamunde. Rosamunde did not need his protection. There were plenty of other men here prepared to fight and die for her, if she but knew it. The duke had explained that he did not expect to find Richard still living on his return if any harm had come to his daughter. In that way alone would the count’s debt have been paid and Richard was so ashamed that he had had been prepared to pay it.
They arrived at Rosamunde’s door and Richard turned to her. “Did you want anything more with me?” He did not know what he hoped she would ask from him, but he knew that he wished to do something that would take away the fear in her eyes when she looked at him.
Rosamunde hesitated. He waited, deciding not to encourage her. “Yes, I wish you to speak to Margaret tomorrow before you go to the training yard. She will show you again how to work the oils into your leg.”
“I do as she showed me,” Richard protested.
“Do not interrupt. I do not see you making an effort to walk properly and if my life depends on you, I would prefer to know that you can stand properly.”
She had entered her chamber and locked the door before Richard noticed she had moved. Her words angered him. She, a mere woman, had no right to talk to him in that way. He waited for a while, as if expecting her to return and talk to him again. She did not, so he turned and walked away. Before he knew it, he was in the chapel sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. For the first time he forced himself to contemplate his twisted leg. It was ludicrous to expect it to heal properly. It had been so badly damaged that he had considered himself lucky to survive. Men with legs like this did not walk straight and tall, they limped and were unsteady and their bodies were misshapen with the effort of walking. Even his surgeon had said that he could never expect to hold himself straight again.
Surely Rosamunde knew all this, but still she had not accepted it. Had he become so tired of his life that he had given up the fight? Did he no longer wish to be as whole as he could be?
He knew he was a liability; that was why he was here, not to defend Rosamunde, but to be the last man to go down – one more person to be killed before they got to her. He wasn’t supposed to fight for her. But he wanted to. He wanted to know that he could defend her. He knew he could do more than just die for her. She had seen that he would let her down and had demanded that he do more and he was ready to do more. She had shown that she was worth the best that he could give, so he would give it.
It appeared that there was even more that Margaret could teach him. With a sigh he eased himself from the floor and made his way to his bedchamber, determined to change himself into the man that Rosamunde seemed to think he was.
Rosamunde’s efforts with the burgesses bore fruit the next day when everyone made it into the castle in time. There would undoubtedly be a price to pay later, but Rosamunde was content. When Sir Walter came everyone would be safe from him inside the castle.
Margaret had asked to be excused attending her in the solar that morning and Rosamunde assumed that Richard had taken her words to heart. She wasn’t really sure what she expected Margaret to do, but she thought it would be better if Richard were occupied with life rather than death.
He seemed distracted when he came to teach her that afternoon and she noticed that he was unsteady on his feet. Seeing her hesitation he said, "Margaret tells me it is temporary and that it will be much more difficult for me to walk for a while. She says I must walk and not limp.” He glared at Margaret, who smiled at him sweetly.
“Then you must do as she says.”
Richard swept her a low bow. “As my lady commands.” He smiled as he rose and Rosamunde could not help but smile back. It changed him so much. They stared at one another for a moment before Rosamunde remembered that she had determined not to let him know what she felt for him. She turned away and took up her wooden knife. “Shall we begin?”
There was no mock combat today as Richard concentrated on making her stand correctly and showed her where to strike a man to do the most damage. She knew these things were important, but suspected that he knew he would not fare well even in a fight against her in his current condition.
He was, however, no less dangerous when they were not fighting. He was constantly adjusting her grasp with his fingertips. He taught her how to use her balance by standing behind her and moving her arms and legs. She was beginning to accept that his touch would cause certain reactions in her, but found her breath catching as she felt his face close to her cheek and his hand on her arm. She struggled to maintain her composure and felt that her studied indifference must be wearing thin. No woman could be this close to him, could be touched so delicately by him and not react.
Her lower lip was sore as she kept biting it, hoping that the pain would take her mind off him.
Predictably he noticed; he had been looking at her mouth!
“Rosamunde, your lip will bleed. I know it is hard to concentrate, but please, I beg you, do yourself no injury.”
He looked concerned and she realised that he wasn’t making fun of her.
“I will try to stop, b
ut it is difficult.”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, turning away from her. “Let us continue.”
“What were you going to say?” she felt that she had to know.
He kept his back to her as he spoke. “Only that it would be a shame to spoil such a beautiful mouth.”
“Oh.”
She knew that she blushed, but it could not be helped. When he turned back to her he was all business again, but would not look her in the eye.
She was relieved when the lesson was over. She enjoyed being with him far too much and now she was forcing him to pay her compliments. Even though it was unwitting, she could not depend on his appreciating that.
They went briefly to the still-room where Thomas found them later to tell her that one of the women from the town who was heavy with child had asked to be allowed to remain in the castle.
“I thought we had sent away all the women who are with child,” said Rosamunde annoyed. This was another complication that she did not want.
“Maud refused to leave. Her man is needed here and she stayed.” Thomas did not seem in the least perturbed that she had not been obeyed.
Rosamunde was tempted to retort that she could not be expected to take special care of someone who had disobeyed her orders, but she thought of her father and she had no intention of telling him that she had lost a mother and an unborn child because she had been annoyed.
“She may stay, but do not make her comfortable. I wish her to know that I am displeased.”
Thomas and Margaret exchanged a knowing glance and Thomas left. Margaret decided that Richard’s lesson had come to an end and turned them out. Rosamunde suspected that she was going to visit Maud and she regretted her outburst. Maud was probably very near her time and frightened. The journey to Dorset with the others would have done her and her baby harm. She stepped back into the still-room. “When you go to her, take her some broth from the kitchen.”
Margaret smiled, “Thank you, Rosamunde. You have a kind heart.”
“A soft head is more like it, but I would not see anyone come to harm unnecessarily.”
Richard walked back with her to the hall. She saw that it caused him pain to walk without a limp, but did not know what to say to him. He saved her the bother.
“Margaret is right, you have a kind heart.” She would have protested, but he continued, “But you know that it is sometimes hard to be kind and that your kindness may cause someone pain at first.”
She did not pretend not to understand what he meant. “I am sorry that Margaret’s treatment causes you pain.”
He smiled and she was surprised, since it was a true smile.
“I am not. She told me that there would be much pain, but that I would get much better and might even ride a horse properly again. She is very wise for a woman and would make a good physician.”
“She says pain is good. Only the living feel pain.”
Richard laughed. “You see, so wise. I should have remembered that when my leg pained me, but there were days when I wished myself dead.”
Rosamunde took his hand. “I am sorry.”
“Do not be. I am a cripple and unwanted by my family. To wish for death is natural.”
“You are wanted here,” she said impulsively.
He was taken aback. Then he sighed and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. “You cannot save everyone, Rosamunde.”
She closed her eyes and savoured this part of himself, so freely given. “I know, but I must try.”
“But I am not your responsibility.”
She opened her eyes and looked straight into his. “Yes, you are. From the moment you stepped off that ship you became mine.”
With a strength of will she had not known she possessed she left him and if he wondered what she had meant it was no more than she did herself.
Chapter Seven
They had estimated that it would take at least three days after the arrival of the ship for Sir Walter to hear the news that Simon was dead and that the duke was still in France. If he set out that day the earliest that he could arrive with men ready and equipped to lay siege to the castle would be another three days, although he would probably take longer since he would not be prepared. If he was going to do something to draw Rosamunde outside, it would take him slightly longer to plan something and put it into action. And five days after Richard arrived from Bordeaux the castle was ready for siege.
No one thought they could beat off an attack from Sir Walter, but Rosamunde reasoned they could withstand a siege and had only to wait for the spring and her father’s return – five months at most. It was impossible to conceive that Sir Walter would continue to fight after the duke’s return. It was one thing to besiege his castle in his absence, it was quite another to fight the duke himself for his daughter. The castle walls were strong and, without engines of war, he would find it almost impossible to enter. They had supplies enough within the walls for that time and the castle had its own well.
Richard came to Rosamunde seven days after his arrival when she was sewing with her woman in her solar. Since Richard could only train for a short time each morning he had taken it upon himself to patrol the walls, looking for anything unusual so that he could give the signal in plenty of time.
Although he was outwardly calm, Rosamunde knew immediately that something was wrong. Since he could not train, Thomas and Guy had taken to using him as a messenger and he had come to her in her solar before. Now he sought her out quickly and his eyes caught hers and did not let them go as he approached her.
“A ship is coming up the river,” he said quietly to Rosamunde so as not to panic the other women.
“And does it fly my father’s standard?”
He nodded.
“There is a chance yet that it is my father,” she said, knowing that it would not be.
“And he will not take your caution for disrespect,” Richard countered. She almost smiled. He was right. If it were indeed her father, he would congratulate her on her wisdom, kiss her on the cheek and ask to be served with food and drink.
“Have you given the signal?”
“Yes, the townspeople are coming in now. There is no panic. Everything is orderly. You have done much in a short time, Rosamunde.” She was relieved. She did not have to worry about the safety of the people after all.
“No, it was you and Thomas and Guy who have done everything.”
He leaned closer to her and the sudden heat that rushed through her made her wonder if her fever had returned. “You are a good leader. You have done things that you did not want to do, given orders that have caused you pain, but you have not panicked and your people have not seen you afraid.”
“But I am afraid,” she whispered, so that only he could hear. But even as she voiced her fear she felt safe, just because he was near.
He caught her hand and brought it up to his lips. “We are all afraid, Rosamunde. It is just that we learn not to show it.”
She nodded, not sure whether he was congratulating her or warning her. She stood, not noticing that he still held her hand. “I should go and welcome my guests.”
He squeezed her hand and she paused. “When the fighting begins, I will be by your side and I will not leave you.”
“Thank you,” she said and went down to welcome in the townspeople.
Later in the morning the ship docked at the jetty and a rider made his way to the castle. He announced himself at the gate as a messenger from the duke bidding his daughter to wait on him on the ship since the journey and the voyage had made him too weak to leave it. The rider was unknown to the guards in the gatehouse and they refused him entry to the castle.
Guy brought the message to Rosamunde who thought for a moment and then wrote a response.
“I am asking to be excused,” she explained, “Since I am unwell. I have asked him to send me his chaplain with news of him and my brother.”
“But Father Peter is here,” said Guy, confused. “He was s
ent back with Thomas.”
Richard smiled. “Sir Walter does not know that, only that he cannot produce the chaplain. If it is the duke he will send a messenger asking what is wrong. Clever.”
Rosamunde smiled back at him. “Thank you.”
As expected, no messenger came back from the ship. Sir Walter’s messenger must have told him that the town was unnaturally quiet and Sir Walter would have concluded that Rosamunde was prepared for his arrival. Rosamunde was disturbed by the disappointment she felt. She had known that there was virtually no chance that the duke would be on board and it was wrong to be disappointed, but she was. She watched the jetty all afternoon until all hope was finally extinguished when a number of men on horseback left the ship.
Realising that his attempt to draw Rosamunde from the castle had failed, Sir Walter tried to bluff his way in. When that too had failed, he worked through the town and by the time he realised that everyone was safe inside the castle, night had fallen. He lowered the standard on the ship and all through that night men marched into the valley and the sound of tents being erected could be heard by everyone in the castle. Very few of its inhabitants slept well that night, although Richard, Thomas and Guy each assured Rosamunde that they personally had had the best night’s sleep they had ever had. Rosamunde would have believed them if she hadn’t known that they had spent the night on the walls watching the activity below.
In the morning Sir Walter demanded a parley. Knowing she could not go herself, Rosamunde wanted to send Thomas. But Richard said that he should be the one to go to show her disrespect to Sir Walter. “I am a Frenchman and a prisoner. I am the lowliest person in this castle.”
Guy, whose suspicions of Richard appeared to have lessened of late said, “You think to go over to him and gain your freedom.” But it seemed a half-hearted protest, even to Rosamunde.
“No,” said Richard, surprised as if the thought had not even occurred to him. “I have no wish to ally myself to a man like Sir Walter, even if it did bring me my freedom. It would not be honourable.”