The Troubadour's Romance

by Robyn Carr

  Trothmore stiffened. “I would aid any who could rid the land of Leightons for all time. And there is only one left.”

  “Why do the Leightons chafe you so?” Wharton asked.

  Trothmore’s expression was grim and his anger was barely concealed. “I have served this church for over a score of years, and as long as there are Leightons in Segeland, there is no faith and I cannot wring a tithe from the burg. Tis a well-known fact they worship Satan. Now ruling in the stead of the devil is a witch they call lady. That same one called arms against me and will not allow me within the town. The church will shed them, as in generations past, as a bird sheds its fouled feathers.”

  Boltof struggled to keep his expression serious, but inwardly he smiled. He would take great pleasure in watching Felise, the beautiful witch, standing her ground and refusing to part with any coin to a wicked priest. But for now, the priest was necessary to his plan.

  “By the summer, my lord, you shall begin to see some attempt to unseat the Leighton bastards for good and all. Then you shall have your faith and the tithe again. Have you written the papers?”

  “I have submitted to the Archbishop the complaints against Segeland and her rulers and requested excommunication for all who reside there ... until such a time as those whose wickedness rules either beg for forgiveness or die.”

  “It shall shortly come to Henry’s attention, Boltof,” Wharton said with a note of panic in his voice.

  “Be at ease, Wharton. Henry does not know we are here.” He turned to Trothmore. “Our efforts will be of little use if you give us away, my lord. I have a pittance to help you seal your lips.”

  Trothmore’s hand was instantly outstretched, and his angry face relaxed into a sly smile. He loved money and riches more than anything. “Why would I speak against you, when you come so far as this to do God’s work?”

  “All the better, my lord,” Boltof replied, placing a small money bag in the man’s hand. “There will be more, when the time is right to move against Segeland. Until then, abide by their order and stay away from there. I see no need to keep them on their guard.” He laughed loudly, pleased that things were going so well. “Indeed, ‘tis much the better they are relaxed and believing themselves safe, for I shall war with them from within their walls, and Sir Wharton here, from without. I doubt anyone could stand firm against such a sound plan.”

  “I bid you well, then,” Trothmore said, turning from the knights to leave. When he had entered his rectory and closed the door behind him, Wharton turned suspicious eyes to Boltof. “How is it you can trust that man?” he asked.

  “Come, Wharton,” he chuckled, slapping a hand on his shoulder as if they were long-time friends, and leading him out of the church. “Trothmore is easier to trust than any friend, for it is clear his price is silver or gold. He cares nothing for truth, loyalty, or honor, if only he can have riches. So ... while he can serve our purpose, let us see that he is well paid.”

  They came down the stairs of the church and into the crowded Coventry street. “You part more easily with your hard-earned money than I would have supposed,” Wharton observed.

  Boltof laughed good-naturedly. “Surely you know that I only loan the sum to Trothmore. I intend to have it back.”

  “Boltof,” someone shouted. Both men turned abruptly toward the knight who had called out. “Wharton?” he questioned, dismounting quickly on sight of them.

  Wharton frowned when he saw Sir Maelwine, nearly panicking at being seen with Boltof. But Boltof was quicker to see the usefulness of this. He walked briskly toward Maelwine, giving a salute and then stretching out his hand. “By God, what a pleasure to see you again, Maelwine,” Boltof said cheerfully. “And of course you are well acquainted with Wharton.”

  Maelwine rather reluctantly shook the other knight’s hand. “Twas a long time ago that we parted ways and you rode with the elder Leighton.”

  Wharton was not quick enough to understand the value of this meeting, and Boltof spoke rapidly, energetically, hoping he would soon gather the sense of it. He laughed lightly and easily. “And so we come full circle in our meeting. You, parted from your friend by a Leighton; I, the friend of a Leighton and enemy of Wharton--all united herein. Can it be old battles could be laid away with a tipped mug?”

  “I thought you hated each other,” Maelwine said.

  Wharton snorted, catching on at last. “The defeated have come to a truce,” he said derisively. “We share our miseries better than we fought.”

  All three then laughed, and Wharton suggested a warm Coventry room for good ale and a chance to tell all the old tales. Maelwine nodded exuberantly, for he was worn from all the hard work and traveling to Coventry for supplies that Segeland demanded. He instructed those with him to gather up their goods while he joined his friends.

  Before a blazing hearth in a common room, the three men shared a friendly brew. Maelwine was comforted by their presence. He had parted ways with Wharton a long while back and, upon this reunion, realized how he had missed his company. And although Boltof was a fairly new acquaintance, the friendship of their fathers brought them together.

  Maelwine believed their questions about Segeland, Royce, and Felise to be born of simple curiosity, and it gave him the opportunity to talk about his tasks through the past weeks. Several toasts and jests later, they emerged from the common room and stood again in the street. “I am for Segeland,” Maelwine said, a bit unsteady on his feet after all the rich brew. “But I found Coventry more to my liking this time than at others. I did not ask--where are you bound?”

  Wharton nearly gasped, but Boltof, the silver-tongued schemer, won with his words again. “We have traveled together from London, but from here I go to York and Wharton is on to Gloucester.”

  Maelwine thought for a moment, but his mind was nearly as scrambled as his footwork. “Gloucester? A bit beyond your road, isn’t it?”

  “But well worth the travel,” Wharton laughed, slapping Maelwine on the back. “I would have our next meeting better planned. What say you, Maelwine?”

  “Aye,” the knight returned. “I shall soon be free of Segeland and will send word to you. Perhaps we will put together our troops at some future day and ride together again.” Maelwine was unaware of how much valuable information he had already given about Segeland, feeling sure that these two men were his comrades.

  “Until you leave, assure Lady Felise that we harbor no anger toward any member of her family,” Boltof said. “I shall ride upon Segeland when my duties in York are completed and give Royce my renewed pledge of friendship.”

  “Aye,” Maelwine said, accentuating this with a large belch. “Full circle. A better arrangement than before.”

  “Tell the lady, Maelwine, that I shall visit Segeland to offer my support,” Boltof repeated.

  “She will be pleased. She will welcome it.” He looked around to see if he could spot his riders and wagon, but no one was in sight. “I am bound to find my fellow travelers. Farewell, and safe travels to you both.”

  Maelwine turned from them and wove his unsteady way down the street. Boltof chuckled and nudged Wharton. “God, what a piece of work we’ve done this day, Wharton. Maelwine goes hither to announce my entrance to his sister’s home.” He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, but Wharton did not share his good humor. “Do you think he could have done better with his news of Segeland and Royce if he had a map and calendar with him?”

  Wharton was a bit down in his spirits, aggravated more by the nature of the reunion than uplifted by the amount of useful information they had managed to wheedle. “I betrayed him once and regretted it,” Wharton grumbled. “Though he allowed my apology, we did not ride together again, and now ...”

  “He will thank you in the end and would better see you with his sister than a devil Leighton.”

  “Methinks he’s accepted Royce well,” Wharton said. “He speaks ill of the place, but he had no rough words for the knight.”

  “He holds his judgment becaus
e of Henry and his father. Who could hold loyal to a Leighton?”

  “You did,” Wharton reminded him.

  Boltof grew serious. “And you see how I am rewarded,” he said bitterly. “He leaves my sister soiled and my father disappointed, and I am reduced to scrambling for lands through the meager wits of a wicked priest. Yea, my loyalty to Royce got me plenty.” He smiled again, but it was not a gay thought that inspired him. “And it is my plan to properly thank him.”

  ***

  The new year, celebrated in March, was less than a month away, and Felise could see the rich promise on the horizon as she viewed the daily improvements in and around Segeland keep. Hewe ofttimes grumbled that she was a spendthrift, and he wished to show his great loyalty by having money left for Royce to count upon his return, but all in all, the young knight could not decry the need or slight the vast difference about the hall and town. And neither could Hewe say that Felise made impetuous purchases. She focused the use of the small sum on food and other necessities.

  But Hewe had little knowledge of how further inspired Felise was. She was satisfied that the people ate better and the rudimentary repairs had been made so that the hall was safe and no one suffered grave ills. But what more she sought could not be accomplished with Royce’s meager allotment. Felise did not crave rich items she had not yet earned, but even if it took her years to repay, there were certain things needed by spring to give this place a new birth, a prosperous first year.

  She labored over letters to her parents. She had spent days thinking about what she would say and the words she would lay down on parchment. In the end she wrote to her father and mother on separate pages, deeming the news to each to be of a different nature. She also considered the time it would take for the missives to reach them at Twyford, south of London. But she never once considered that they would not yield her what she needed. The moment she saw the messages on their way, she would begin to order the work done with the assurance that the workers could be paid.

  Late in the evening, after their meal, she approached her brothers and asked for a private conference in her chamber. None of them had been in the room they abhorred since the night they readied it for her use. Maelwine was the one to nod in approval at the change some modest cleaning and renovation had yielded. She had instructed Hewe to bring a bench and some chairs from other rooms and join them for the ensuing discussion.

  “It is time for the three of you to leave,” she said simply.

  “I thought it better, Felise, to remain until Royce returned from his sojourn,” Maelwine argued.

  “I have letters for you to carry to Twyford, and thence you may consider your duty to me done.”

  “But we have sent letters to our father,” Dalton said. “It was his instruction that we keep him apprised of your condition.”

  She pursed her lips and tried to keep any anger from her voice. “Yea, I know this, but never did you ask me to report my condition. Now, by my own hand, I have set down my words and I should like them delivered to our parents.” She sighed. “I believe you have all good intention, but I do not wish my husband to return to find you hovering over me like mother hens. There is no further use for you here, and you’ll become old and doddering, wasting away in this humble keep. You need to be on the road and about your own duties.”

  “We have always helped one another,” Evan said.

  “And so you shall help me, if you will leave me to my home and my husband. Sir Hewe guards the hall well and Sir Trumble does not relax a moment from the wall. There are servants aplenty within the keep, and the villeins no longer fear my presence. Colbert sees to them ... and unless you wish to make trips to Coventry for trinkets, there is no use for you.”

  “We keep the place safe,” Evan said.

  “Nay, she is right,” Dalton argued. “She has Royce’s guard and they’re a sturdy lot. And since Maelwine encountered the two spurned knights in Coventry and assures us they are no threat, our service here is all but done.” He turned to Felise. “I will not lie to you, Felise. I do not find this place worthy of you. ‘Tis better, but still poor and small.”

  “It is not your choice, Dalton.”

  “Nay, but were it my choice, you would reside with our father at Twyford until a better lot could be found. And I am still uncertain of Royce ... I do not rest easy with his treatment of you.”

  Hewe stiffened, but Felise raised her hand slightly to indicate she would speak on behalf of Royce. “I think your presence and the condition of this hall chafe him more than anything. He did not treat me with such silence at the Chaney house. Indeed, he was kind and dear ... and he will be again when he returns, if his home is well tended and my guards are gone.”

  Maelwine looked at Hewe. There were still some rough edges to the relationship between the Scelfton men and Royce’s, but none of Felise’s brothers could argue that the guard left to Felise was inadequate or less than trustworthy. Maelwine felt uneasy criticizing Royce in front of this man, but he was without choice. It almost appeared that Felise approved the young knight as much as Royce did. Indeed, she seemed to prefer his protection to that of her brothers.

  “We could stay until a message arrives that Royce is bound for home, Felise,” Maelwine offered.

  Felise rose, somewhat weary with these hovering stags. “I try to count myself lucky to have you, and though we grew through years of teasing and fighting, you know I hold your kinship dear. Forsooth, you three, as much as Father and Mother, gave me a home and a family when I had none. I trust you wish me only good fortune. But, my dears, you must let me choose my fortune. I am better the wife of Royce in this humble keep than your sister on the road to Twyford. What comforts there will give me peace and joy? I cannot be a child of Twyford again.”

  Maelwine leaned forward on his chair and looked closely at Felise. His eyes were warm and hers were cool and level. “Tell us truly, Felise: given freedom, is this man and hall your choice?”

  “Yea,” she breathed, her eyes moistening. “It will one day be a rich place filled with worthy heirs. You will journey here in years to come and find it much to your liking, for I will not rest until my husband’s home flourishes.”

  “You are confident of his love?” Maelwine pressed.

  Felise’s cheeks pinkened slightly, but she sought a strong voice. “Neither will I rest until that flourishes.”

  Maelwine showed his approval by rising and nodding resolutely. “I say we let the lass have her day,” he said. “You trust this man as your protector?” he asked, indicating Hewe with his eyes.

  “He will not betray the Lord of Segeland,” Felise said with certainty.

  Dalton rose. “Very well, lady of Segeland. I will hold you to your word, that this sorry place will prosper.”

  Evan followed, but this brother embraced his sister. “Call us back when there is need,” he said.

  She nodded, feeling tears gather in her eyes. There was little doubt of their love and loyalty, but their oppressive presence did not allow her to complete the chores that lay ahead.

  “I see no reason we should delay,” Maelwine said. “We can ready our things by morning and get your letters swiftly to Twyford.”

  “‘Tis well,” she said, and smiled. “I will miss you. But we’ll say our farewells in the morn. A good night to you all ... and please, I do thank you, remember that.”

  When the Scelfton men had left her chamber, she turned to Hewe to find a glad expression on his face. “Well, Sir Hewe, I am much more your burden now, with my brothers gone.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and bowed over it. When he straightened, there was a pleased smile on his lips. “Yea, but you have lightened my load immeasurably, lady.”

  “Oh? Did they cause you some problem, my brothers?”

  “Nay,” he said.” ‘Twas an order that Royce gave me that I found difficult to carry out. But now I see that my worries are few and my work will be simple and complete.”

  She cocked her head in some confusion. “If I
can be of any assistance, Sir Hewe, you have but to ask.”

  “You have been a pleasure to serve, lady,” he said. “And I look forward to my lord’s return, that I may serve you both.”

  It could not be said that great sadness fell over Segeland when the Scelfton knights departed, for most of Royce’s men resented their presence simply because they knew their master did. But the mood toward them had softened a small bit since they had first attached themselves to the newly married couple, for all three brothers were never shy toward work. And though they viewed Royce skeptically, they did not openly criticize him. That they disliked the mess they found at Segeland was not very different from how all the men felt.

  Felise gave them letters for home, these being carefully sealed to ensure their privacy. She walked with Hewe and her brothers toward the gate, the latter leading their destriers. When they parted, it was with thanks and good wishes. Hewe, feeling a new tenderness toward Felise, shook each man’s hand and promised to remain and care for Felise in their stead.

  They were far into the distance when the mighty gates were being pushed closed. The rearmost knight turned at the sound and raised a hand to Felise and Hewe. Hewe waved in return and Felise felt lighter of heart.

  “They will return one day, Hewe, and I trust you will help me make them welcome.”

  Hewe presented his arm to the lady to escort her back to the hall. “When Sir Royce is assured that your family wishes him no ill, even he will welcome these brothers of yours and perhaps one day call them brother as fondly as you.”

  Felise slowed her step. “You have changed toward them,” she observed. “And toward me.”

  “Have I?” he laughed.

  “Perhaps all most of us need, Hewe, is time. In time even Royce ...” Her voice trailed off into nothing and she walked toward her home.

  Hewe gave her hand a reassuring pat, not requiring her to finish the sentence to understand what she was feeling. He wondered why he and Royce had thought that to understand the workings of her mind would be so difficult. She had opened her heart with a few simple utterances. She loved her husband deeply, and craved his love in return. Though she still appeared desirable and beautiful to Hewe, in a manner she had freed him from longing with her declaration for her husband. Hewe’s love of loyalty was yet greater than any lust, and he found himself hoping for both husband and wife that they could find the way to each other. “Yea, madam, in time even Royce ...,” he whispered.