April Munday

by His Ransom

  “What will happen to Sir Walter in the meantime?” asked Rosamunde, trying to regain control of the situation.

  “He will return to his property with some of my men to keep close guard over him.”

  “Then I am content,” lied Rosamunde. This was as good as letting Sir Walter go unpunished and she did not need to see Thomas’ and Richard’s faces to know that they were angry. For herself the fear that had left her when she had seen the duke now returned. There was little to prevent Sir Walter finding some other way to take her by force before her father returned. At least when he had been laying siege to the castle they had known where he was and what he was doing. She could only hope that the guard provided by the duke would prove to be effective.

  The duke left them and Rosamunde stood in the gatehouse and watched them lead Sir Walter away. His men began to break up their camp. Rosamunde gave orders that no one was to leave the castle until they were gone and that the town should be searched by troops from the garrison before the townspeople would be permitted to return to what was left of their homes. She and Thomas and William had given much thought as to how the town could be rebuilt, but they had expected it to happen in the spring, not now in the winter. She sighed and her relief disappeared. It seemed that the breaking of the siege would provide even harder work than the siege itself. They would have to bring the celebrations for Candlemas forward to tonight, for now they had something to celebrate. Word had spread quickly through the castle and there was much happiness and as she had foreseen many people expected to leave at that moment for their homes. The afternoon was a flurry of preparation and confusion and she finally sought solace in the still-room where she found Richard and Margaret. “You look tired,” he said. He smiled gently as he took a step towards her. “We have been making something for you,” and he gave her a cup of warmed, spiced wine.

  “Thank you,” she said, “It has been a busy day.” She took a sip. She did not quite recognise the taste and realised that it must have been Richard’s recipe, rather than Margaret’s.

  “Rest now.” Richard still stood by her and she felt his strength as much as she had when he had held her on the battlements.

  “There is still much to be done,” she said, wearily. “Everyone wishes to go home and there is no home to go to.”

  Richard made as if to say something. “You may speak freely,” she said, although he had rarely needed permission before.

  “I do not think Sir Walter will consider himself beaten and I should like to remain close to you.”

  Relief flooded through Rosamunde. She was not being foolish. Richard agreed with her assessment and would continue to obey the duke’s orders.

  “Thank you. I shall feel much happier knowing that you are still on your guard.”

  Rosamunde set to work organising the celebration and then thought about gifts for the duke and the king. She decided that she would not send anything too extravagant to the king, but would leave it to her father to decide upon a more suitable gift when he returned so she contented herself with writing an effusive letter of thanks, promising him her father’s gratitude and explaining that her small gift was limited only by the bounds of the authority her father had placed upon her. For the duke she decided on something of small value, but of importance to her father. She trusted that the duke would understand its significance. Once this was done she despatched a messenger to the court. Finally she allowed her thoughts to return to Richard. The siege was over and he was still alive. She wondered what plans her father would have for him now. Perhaps he would consider the ransom paid and send Richard back to his home. She did not like to think of him going away from her but there had been no sign from him that he regarded her with anything more than the respect that was due to the duke’s daughter. She was still in this mood of quiet reflection when Richard came upon her in the solar.

  “Rosamunde,” he said, “they are looking for you to celebrate.”

  “I have written to the king,” she explained, “And sent a gift.”

  He nodded. “That was wise.”

  “There is so much to be done,” she sighed. “I had expected my father to be here before such decisions needed to be made.”

  “You have good advisors in Thomas and Guy,” said Richard gently.

  “And you,” she said. “You have always given me good advice.”

  “My advice was more suited to a time of war than to a time of peace.” She thought he looked even more serious than usual. Was he sad that the threat was gone, even if temporarily?

  “Will you be a soldier again, now that your leg is better?”

  He shrugged. “I know little else.”

  “You did not marry well?” she asked curiously. “Did your wife not have property?” This was territory into which she had not strayed before, but things had changed and Richard could no longer expect to die at any moment. He must expect curiosity about his previous life.

  He smiled sadly, “I married for love, not advancement. My wife was poorer even than I.”

  Rosamunde had not known that. It showed Richard in a new light. She had not thought of him as a man enslaved to his emotions, but it was almost inconceivable that a man who had no fortune would marry a woman without a proper dowry.

  “What will you do now?” she asked, although she knew that until the duke’s return he would not know whether he had a choice about his future.

  “I will await the duke’s pleasure,” he said simply.

  Rosamunde understood. The duke might not consider the ransom so easily paid. Richard had certainly contributed to the success of Rosamunde’s survival of the siege, but it was mainly due to the duke’s own foresight that the siege had been broken. Rosamunde almost smiled in the knowledge that Richard would be staying longer in the castle, at least until the duke returned.

  “Perhaps he will make you a herbalist,” she suggested as a joke.

  “I have been giving some thought to the matter,” said Richard gravely. “Margaret believes I have great skill.”

  “But it is not the occupation of a son of a count,” she protested.

  “Then perhaps the duke will permit me to fight for him.” He truly was a man of war. Rosamunde smiled up at him. There was more honour in that course of action and it fitted her ideas about him.

  “What do you wish would happen?”

  “There is little point wishing. I have no control over my future.”

  “But if you could,” she persisted.

  Richard sighed, as if she had broken into his very heart with her question. “Then I would choose to stay here and serve the duke as a soldier. He is a man of honour and there would be no dishonour in his service.”

  Rosamunde was happy with the answer and realised it was the answer she had expected.

  “Let me go and see how the celebration has progressed,” she said.

  As they left the solar, Richard offered her his arm and she placed her own on top and he escorted her to her bedchamber.

  “Shall I fetch Thomas and have him escort you to the hall?”

  “Yes,” she said, “We shall begin the celebration.”

  The hall was as full that night as it had been every night of the siege and despite the celebration there was an air of sadness. The townspeople had returned to inspect their homes and, as Rosamunde had suspected, there was very little left. She would have to go tomorrow to investigate for herself. The duke joined her and sat at her right hand with Thomas on her left. Since the duke was a friend of her father’s, she was not restricted to formal conversation and it was thus that Rosamunde discovered what had been the real reason for the duke to lead the army to her rescue. His third son had recently been widowed. He said no more than that, but Rosamunde knew that her dowry would be attractive to such a man. She struggled to remember the third son. She remembered the second, a handsome and witty man. She barely remembered the first. He had inherited property from his mother at an early age and taken up residence there. But the third would not come to mind at al
l. Doubtless her father would find such a match acceptable. The duke was an old friend and even his third son would be a son-in-law worth having. It was only when the tables had been cleared and the dancing began that Rosamunde finally remembered Ralf. As the duke led her out and started the steps to the dance Rosamunde remembered the dark-haired, plain-faced boy who had not been able to learn a simple dance and was constantly getting in the way of the other dancers and turning in the wrong direction and confusing his partner. He was a few years older than Rosamunde. She could recall now that he sat a horse well and was a good huntsman but could neither read nor write.

  Her father might approve the match, but she could not. She loved Richard and no man would be acceptable to her while he lived. Richard respected her; she knew he honoured her more than as just the daughter of his lord. Ralf was a boor who would not appreciate her. Richard was educated and elegant. He was Rosamunde’s equal in every way. Ralf was nothing in comparison. Her mind began to work furiously. The threat of marriage to Ralf must be avoided. Somehow her father must be persuaded to allow her to marry Richard, even though the latter had shown no interest in her.

  After the first set the duke excused himself. “As you can see, I am no dancer.” Rosamunde made to sit with him. “No, my dear. I know how you young people like to dance and I will be happy enough to watch.”

  Rosamunde knew that this was the case and looked around for Thomas meaning to lead out the next dance with him, but he was already standing with his arm around Margaret’s waist and she decided not to catch his eye. Turning away from him, she found her eyes held by Richard. He bowed to her as she crossed the room to him.

  “I would dance with you,” she said simply.

  “Then you do so at your own risk,” he said, “I have never danced well.”

  This confirmed Rosamunde’s own suspicion. “Then I will take care,” she said.

  He smiled and took her hand.

  He had spoken the truth: he did not dance well, but he was a considerate partner and kept in time with the music. His habitual frown disappeared and he began to smile at her. Rosamunde knew that the other women in the hall regarded her with envy. Richard had not danced at the Christmas feast, excusing himself because of his leg. As the set progressed Richard’s dancing improved and Rosamunde felt that he must be enjoying it rather than dancing out of a sense of duty towards her. Once or twice she caught sight of an expression of intense concentration on his face and knew that he was working very hard and his disappointment when the dancing ended seemed genuine. He led her back to the duke and, ignoring the beseeching looks of the other women took up his place by the entrance to the hall, his face set in his usual frown and his arms folded over his chest.

  “I do not know that man,” said the duke, following Richard with his eyes.

  “He is my father’s prisoner. He was taken at Poitiers, but unable to pay a ransom.”

  The duke snorted. “It seems the French aristocracy are as poor as peasants. Even their king cannot pay his ransom, so he sits and rots in the Tower. I am surprised your father sent you a Frenchman, and a cripple at that, when he knew you were to be besieged here.”

  “He sent him because we were to be besieged. Sir Richard is a man of honour and has been of great assistance to me.”

  “In what way?” asked the duke suspiciously.

  “He is a good soldier and his advice about the defence of the castle has been invaluable.”

  “He is a handsome man. Have you had any trouble with the women?”

  Rosamunde was surprised by his forthrightness. Surely he could not be questioning her own honour?

  “No, there has been no trouble with the women. My father left orders that no woman was to be alone at any time and I have enforced those rules.”

  “Still,” he considered aloud, “There may be those who disobeyed your father’s rule,” and he looked at her pointedly.

  Rosamunde remembered Berthe, but said nothing. She would tell her father on his return, but she was not yet answerable to the duke.

  “No, my lord, all has been as it should be. My father will find things in good order when he returns.”

  The duke nodded. “Guy was a good man to leave in charge.”

  Rosamunde concurred and did not bother to point out that it was she who had been left in charge.

  The music started again and Rosamunde led this time with Thomas. To her surprise, Richard danced with Margaret. She found herself turning to watch them occasionally. She knew from the hours that she had spent training with Richard that there was grace in his body, but none of that seemed to come out when he was dancing. She doubted very much that the French way of dancing was that much less elegant than the English. She danced the final set with Guy and noticed that Richard did not dance again. She found she could give him none of her attention for Guy was the best dancer in the castle and it was such a pleasure to dance with him that she finally gave herself up to it, smiling up at him and following his lead. She did not know that she was Guy’s equal in dancing and that all eyes followed them as they led the other dancers.

  Eventually it was time for the celebration to end and the castle’s inhabitants went to their beds. Many hoped that it would be the last time they slept in the castle. There had been much reorganisation in the castle to allow the duke to spend the night inside the castle, rather than in his tent, and there was some resentment, although no one allowed it to temper the joy they felt that the siege was over.

  As Rosamunde lay in her bed that night she found it hard to believe that she would wake up the next morning and there would be no army camped outside. The castle would soon begin to empty and building would start in the town. And she would have to get used to the idea of being betrothed to Ralf, unless she could find a way to convince her father to marry her off to a penniless French cripple. She slept little that night. Now that she knew how important Richard’s presence was to her, she could not bear the thought that she might be sent away to someone else. If only there had been some sign from Richard that he regarded her in the same way.

  The duke and his army left the next morning, but not before he had written a letter to the duke and left it in Rosamunde’s keeping. Rosamunde thought she knew what was in it, but kept it to herself.

  In the morning she took Guy, Thomas, William and the steward and they went to inspect the town. Richard accompanied her as her bodyguard. Thomas took Richard to one side and had a quiet conversation with him, but seemed to accept whatever it was that Richard had to say. As she had suspected, there were few buildings that could be salvaged. Even the ones far from the castle walls that had been used by Sir Walter for accommodation had been damaged. It would be difficult to build with the ground so hard from the cold and she worried about the amount of wood required. The duke owned many woods, but he had not expected to have to rebuild an entire town in a few months. As the morning wore on she became more despondent, as she calculated what was required. Rosamunde said little and let the men talk. They knew what they were about and she did not. She trusted their assessment and would be guided by them. The cost of rebuilding was immense; they would not be able to recover it from Sir Walter. She was grateful for Richard’s presence. He was always behind her and to her right, keeping his sword arm free. She doubted there would be trouble today, but her weary mind took solace in the fact that he was there to protect her. That was no longer the first thought in the other men’s minds. They had other things to think of now.

  She left the men to discuss the plans and work out how the materials could be obtained. She knew there was little contribution she could make to that conversation, so she went to the still-room. As Margaret unlocked the door Richard said to Rosamunde, “You look unhappy.”

  “It will be very difficult to rebuild the town,” she explained.

  “I know, but you are a resourceful woman, Rosamunde.”

  “You are generous, my lord.”

  He smiled at her formality. “Just truthful. Many women are called to care for
their lord’s property while their lord is away, but few are called to defend them in a siege. It would be a foolish man who did not see your worth.”

  Rosamunde wondered how much of the conversation with the duke he had overheard the night before.

  “I have had the support of three good men,” she said.

  “And those men supported you out of respect and not duty.”

  “You are very gracious, my lord,” she responded.

  Richard smiled as he began to inspect the salve he had made two days ago.

  “Richard!” she cried impulsively, “We spoke some time ago about trust and friendship.”

  He nodded immediately as if it had been yesterday rather before the siege.

  “You have earned mine.”

  Impulsively he caught her hands in his, then released them as he realised what he had done.

  “Thank you. I know that you do not say this lightly. For all that it is worth little, I can offer you my friendship. You have had my trust for many weeks.”

  “Then I am content.”

  Rosamunde knew they would not be able to continue in this way when her father returned. She and Richard would no longer be able to spend time alone together and it seemed strange to her that there should be a reason for her to regret her father’s homecoming.

  “You are very cheerful today,” she said to Richard some time later when she heard him humming a tune to himself. He smiled at her. “The siege is over and we are all still alive and you are not taken by Sir Walter.” But Rosamunde could not be happy. The siege was indeed over and she was not taken by Sir Walter, but the day would doubtless soon come when she would be taken away to be betrothed to Ralf and she would not see Richard again.

  “I was thinking, my lady,” said Richard, as if he had not noticed her sadness, “That there will be more time now for ease and there will be more celebration when the duke returns.”

  Rosamunde nodded. This would indeed be the case, but she was not sure what Richard was thinking.