by Robyn Carr
Fourteen
It happened that not all that the Scelftons sent to Segeland was appropriate to their needs. Felise deemed it wise to trade some goods for others, rather than bear any insult to her parents with respect to their gifts by returning them. So, when many more bags of seed than they could use arrived, Felise set Hewe to the task of taking a wagonload to Coventry to trade for animal stock. And when bolts of cloth would be better traded for twice as many spindles of thread and yarn and more looms for the village women, she excused Vespera to accompany a small group of travelers to arrange that trade.
So many trips to Coventry had been made that it had been arranged that a local house would receive those from Segeland each time. It was usual that, the journey being short, they stayed only one night. Arriving in the afternoon and settling in the merchant’s house, Vespera and Hewe set about their trading, ate a hearty dinner, slept a short night, and rose early, quite pleased with the goods and ready to journey back to Segeland.
Vespera approached her young escort before he had finished his morning meal. “Sir Hewe, I know the urgency that we be upon the road, but would you allow time for one last item?”
“What?” he questioned, his mouth full of bread.
She seated herself across from him and urged him to continue to eat while she explained. “When I was in search of yarns and threads for my lady, I did come across a bolt of fine cloth that I would like to purchase for her. ‘Tis a frivolous item, but I can’t resist. And with a bit of lace, it will make a fine morning gown for her.” Vespera shrugged somewhat shyly. “I have saved a small sum for the purchase, if you would escort me to the merchant.”
Hewe put down his knife and frowned as he contemplated this. “I would take you, but there are two conditions. First, the price must already be to your liking, for we have no time to argue with the merchant. And second, you must let me share in the purchase of the gift.”
“It is not necessary, sir knight, as I can assure you I have the sum. It does not beggar me.”
“You misunderstand me, madam. I do not pity your poor state. It is only that I, too, have seen baubles and laces that would do my lady honor.”
Vespera broke into a rare, wide smile. She could not express her personal pride that Felise’s behavior elicited love and respect from all who came to know her. She had been aware of Hewe’s initial avoidance of Felise, and likewise aware that as he spent time with her, he had begun to hold her in ardent respect.
“As I have said, I found a bolt of rich cloth for a morning gown, and if you will allow, I will purchase that. Then, if it pleases you, I will help you select a perfect lace for the trim, that your gift to her may be as rich.”
“We are agreed,” he said happily. “I’ll have the horses and wagons readied while we make our purchases, and then we’ll get quickly back to Segeland.”
Vespera waited at the small table in the merchant’s dining hall while Hewe alerted those few who had traveled with them to make ready. They quickly sought out the cloth merchant and found that he was also well stocked with beautiful laces and trims and threads. Pleased with the prices the man demanded and the nature of their gifts to Felise, they walked briskly and happily back toward their party of travelers.
Vespera slowed her pace for a moment and then grasped Hewe’s arm to stop him in mid-stride. He looked at her quizzically but found that her eyes were locked on two men who stood talking outside the massive Coventry church. He looked at them for a moment, breathing one name. “Boltof?”
She pulled him out of sight of the street, within the doorframe of a baker, and her mouth was set in an angry line. “Do not let them see us, Sir Hewe. It is Boltof and Sir Wharton.”
“Wharton? I was told they had buried their differences.” He shrugged.
“Aye,” she said angrily. “Buried their differences and yet the two of them linger for so long ... so close to Segeland. It was a long while ago that Sir Maelwine found the two together here, and both, he said, were bound for other places. Something is wrong.”
Hewe stiffened at the mere possibility that these two would tarry here to cause some threat to his lord and lady. He unconsciously flexed the muscles in his arms and set his jaw in a grim line, ready for confrontation. “Then I will learn their intention at once.”
“Nay,” she said in an urgent whisper. “That is useless, for if they’re bent on trouble, they will not tell you. Better that we know they meet in Coventry and keep our eyes and ears sharp. If they know we have seen them, they may hatch some plan to misguide our step. If they think themselves safe, they may act with foolish confidence. Let us hie from this place before they know they’ve been seen.”
“Would it not be better to let them know that we see this new friendship blooming so close to Segeland’s gate?” he asked.
“Hear me, Hewe. There stand two men who not only wanted Lady Felise and her lands, but petitioned King Henry for her hand. And what do they share? Only their disappointment at having been overturned in favor of Royce. They are up to no good.”
Hewe looked around the frame of the baker’s door. “‘Tis not my custom to lurk in passageways, spying, when I am set to demand a proper answer for such actions.”
Vespera touched his arm. “I know it is not your way, but I am small and weak and have learned much from quiet passages and open ears. And if, in the end, we protect what Royce holds, the method matters least of all.
“They do not know me. I will pass them while they’re in conversation if you will quietly go through the baker’s shop and leave by a rear door. ‘Tis your face they will know.”
Hewe thought for a moment but quickly decided she was the wiser, and since they were bent on a single purpose, it was better to see what knowledge leaked out than to risk a confrontation that would only yield a lie.
He nodded to her and she wasted no time in lowering her head, tucking her hands into her mantle, and setting out in the direction of Wharton and Boltof. She did not betray herself by turning to see if Hewe had entered the shop, but rather paused beside the two men and pretended to examine some leather purses displayed on a merchant’s cart beside them. With her back turned to the men, she lingered a moment.
“When do you go?” Wharton asked.
“In a few days. When Celeste arrives to meet me.”
“You are certain you can gain friendly admittance?”
“Aye. Royce is a highly responsible man. He will wish to make good his roguish behavior. And of course, on the grounds of friendship, he will admit us. I know the man. And we have cleared the way with Felise through Maelwine.”
“You will send me word?”
“Aye, stay in Coventry with a few men. I will send a message to you through the priest, Trothmore, when I am admitted to the keep. Or failing that, later, when it is time for some action from you.”
There was a long pause before Wharton spoke again. “You are certain that Celeste will help us?”
“She has always done exactly as I’ve bidden her. ‘Twas me who brought Royce to her in the first place. She relies on my help. I tell her what to do and when to do it.”
“I hope you are right,” Wharton said. Vespera thought she heard a note of distrust or apprehension in Wharton’s voice.
“How may I help your selection, madam?” the leather craftsman asked. “A purse for yourself or your husband? A well-crafted sheath for a knife? I have bridles and saddles, but they are too large for the cart, yet I can tell you the way to my shop and my son will help you select what you need.”
“Nay, there is nothing. I simply admire your fine talent,” she said softly, smiling at the man.
“Surely this pouch caught your eye ..,” he attempted.
“It is lovely, but I will make no purchase today,” she answered.
He gave a grunt and moved away to a more likely customer. Vespera caressed the leather pouch, straining her ears for more of the conversation behind her, but she heard nothing. She cautiously turned and spotted Boltof’s bulky frame as
he walked alone down the street. She silently cursed the merchant for causing her to miss their last exchange and words of parting, and turned in the opposite direction to see Wharton traveling away.
When she reached Hewe at the wagons, all was ready for their journey. He approached her eagerly.
“They are plotting,” she said, a note of agitation in her voice, “but I have no idea what they hope to gain. I know only this: Boltof and Celeste will venture to Segeland and gain entrance under the guise of friendship, and Wharton waits here for some instruction. Perhaps they plan an attack on the keep, I cannot say.”
“Then Boltof will be surprised when he is not allowed within.”
Vespera thought for a moment, quietly chewing her lip. “If their plan is set awry this time, they will only devise another. The next time we will not have foreknowledge. Nay, Hewe, I think it best to let Boltof within and watch him as a hungry rat watches the scraps from the table. When he moves to threaten, he will be caught.”
“Lady Felise must be warned,” Hewe said resolutely.
“Warn Royce, when he is returned. And my lady will be cautioned not to trust them, but we will take care not to worry her. Let us guard her even better than we have, and let Royce be the one to tell her the reason.”
“I don’t know if it is wise to tamper with them if they mean to do her harm,” Hewe argued.
“It would be worse if we stopped them now, and months or a year from now were faced with some surprise devilment. Let us take a lesson from the knaves: we will work in secret as they do and we will be ready for them. If they mean to usurp Royce or harm the lady, they have but one chance. Once caught, they will not live to try again.”
***
“It is like a thousand Christmas holidays,” Felise exclaimed. “First, all that has been sent from Twyford; now, this. You are so good to me.” She embraced Vespera in grateful thanks for the lovely gift and the woman accepted the gesture, returning the affection with a tight squeeze of her own.
But Sir Hewe chafed and turned bright pink up to his brow when Felise encircled him with her arms. He stammered uncomfortably, keeping his arms fixed straight at his side as he suffered through her torturous clinging.
Felise stepped back and looked at the rigid knight, who looked like an oversized boy, frightened to death. She could not suppress a teasing giggle. “Don’t worry, Hewe. I swear I will not tell Sir Royce how you shamelessly beg my affection. He should find little cause to run you through--at least not for taking such advantage of me.”
Clutching the prized bundle to her breast, she fled up the stairs to her chamber with the thought of immediately laying out the cloth and designing something with her shears. Vespera followed and quietly watched as Felise excitedly considered the many possibilities. “I suppose Royce will be returned soon, and I should like to hurry the new gown,” she chattered.
“Have you any word, lady?” Vespera asked.
“Nay, but a messenger is too costly. He warned me it might well take two months. I am certain he will send word if he is delayed.” But she frowned slightly, either doubtful of her husband’s consideration for her worry or puzzled with the best way to cut the cloth.
“Do you know how to send word to him?”
“Nay. I know the lands in Aquitaine are formerly of the de Raissa family, but not the location. That is what he travels to find.” She turned to Vespera. “Something of my mother’s kin, but none is living.”
Vespera turned her face away, but Felise did not notice. “What of the Leightons? Are any still living?”
“Not to my knowledge,” she answered, paying more attention to the cloth than to the question.
“What shall you do if friends or family come to Segeland?”
“I suppose I shall try to make them welcome and comfortable. But who would come here?”
“Did Maelwine not suggest that Boltof would visit?”
Felise turned to Vespera with an incredulous look on her face. “Aye, but I assumed that would be much later. Surely he would not venture here without an invitation from Royce.” Vespera shrugged as if she could not answer. “What manner of man would be bold enough to do such a thing?”
“I met Sir Boltof in passing at Windsor,” Vespera lied. “I think him bold enough.”
Felise sighed at the possibility. “You could be right, but should he arrive unsummoned, poor Sir Hewe will faint for loss of sleep. That trusty knight would strap himself to my skirts and sleep by my door lest any man so much as look my way. He takes his oath to my husband very seriously.”
“More’s the mercy.”
Felise simply ignored Vespera’s comment and busied herself with the new fabric, finally deciding on a style that would reveal much of her bosom and had long, flowing sleeves. The color had been chosen to compliment her hair and eyes and was of a shining turquoise hue. She cut out the pieces that very day.
In the following days she stole away to her chamber whenever her usual toils did not occupy her. She sewed the cloth with silver thread, trimmed it with a white and silver lace trim, and tried it on for a proper fit with every new seam. She thought of how Royce might view her in the candlelight or early dawn in the dressing gown. She hoped the style and color would please him, if not seduce him.
On the fifth day that she sewed, again with time she could ill afford to spare, Sir Hewe knocked on her chamber door. She thought perhaps Hewe might never view the finished garment, bold as it was, and so left the piece on her bed as she bade him enter. He would have this one opportunity to see how skillfully she joined the gift of threads and trim to the fabric.
But Hewe entered wearing a troubled look and did not glance about the chamber. “My lady, Sir Boltof and Lady Celeste approach the hall. Sir Trumble has admitted them. They will be here in a moment.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. How could she face either of them? What would she find to say to Celeste, who must surely hate her now? And Boltof--did he mean to court her away from Segeland and her husband? “Hewe, do they say why they’ve come?”
Hewe shrugged as if he did not know, but answered just the same. “They have brought you a fine wedding gift: a gentle mount of considerable value. Boltof claims his friendship with Royce is too precious a thing to be set asunder by King Henry’s order.”
Felise rose and found her legs shaky as she stood. “That explains Boltof,” she said, her heart beating wildly. “What of Celeste?”
Again Hewe shrugged. “The same, I assume.”
“What am I to do with them?”
Hewe shook his head, having no answer at all. “Two chambers can be found for them, if you will it. Or, if it is your preference, I can set them on the road home.”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully, holding her hands clasped in front of her. The quaking of her insides would not still. She was terrified of facing them alone, not to mention the disquiet she felt at the thought of Royce returning to find his old lover in residence.
Again, as many times before, she longed for Lady Edrea’s wisdom and Lord Scelfton’s blustering bullheadedness.
“Nay, Royce would be ashamed of my poor hospitality. This is my husband’s home, and friends of his shall be comfortable here, even if I am not.” She took a deep breath and tried to stand erect, demanding of herself that she at least appear to be dignified and strong.
She approached Hewe, her worried frown still evident. She dearly hoped that by the time she faced the couple she could present a gracious mien. “Poor Hewe. Your work shall be made difficult once again.”
Hewe tried to smile away her discomfort. “I think ‘tis better to watch a wolf who is securely penned than to seek his trail in the open country. Come, lady. We will greet them, and Sir Boltof and his sister shall be assured that you are safe from harm while I am here.” He presented his arm to lead her below. “And remember, do not pity me. I cherish my labors.”
Felise had to fight for self-control. She would have trembled miserably had Hewe not stood straight and determined at her si
de. Several long moments passed within the entry before Lady Celeste and Sir Boltof dismounted and came forward to greet her. It was Boltof who pressed himself ahead of his sister and spoke.
“Dear Lady Felise,” he said, reaching out a hand to her. She allowed him to take her hand, damp though it was, and press a kiss on its back. “We honor you with gifts in celebration of your wedding and, more important, a declaration of friendship. Our households need not be in conflict because of past obligations.”
Felise felt her pulse pick up. How often, she wondered, would these two remind her of Royce’s past?
“How very kind of you, sir knight. My thanks.”
“And Royce? Is he out on some errand?”
“Nay, he is yet in Aquitaine. Did he not tell you?”
“He did not,” Boltof said, looking quite surprised.
Felise found it difficult to believe that no one of Lord Orrick’s household had had word from Royce. Although her husband made no mention, she had seen him working dutifully on letters and assumed he had at least written apologies to that family, if not visited them while in London.
She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Surely my brother told you?”
“He may have mentioned it, lady, but I gave little heed. When does he return?”
“Soon, I hope. He would certainly hate to miss your visit.”
Trying to hide her frown of displeasure, she moved past Boltof and sank into a deep curtsy before Celeste. “My lady,” she crooned, smiling as well as she could under the pressure of the moment. “How good of you to come.”
Celeste matched the curtsy with one of her own, keeping her eyes shyly downcast. “It is kind of you to receive us,” she nearly whispered.
“And why would I not?” Felise said. “My husband’s close friendship with your family has been a valuable thing to him and something I am certain he hopes will continue.” She paused, waiting for Celeste’s eyes to meet hers that she might judge the effect of her words. In the pale blue she saw the pain of lost love and none of the toughness of a woman bent on vengeance. Celeste appeared a hurt little lamb, at least as uncomfortable with the situation as Felise. “Alas,” Felise continued quietly. “My husband consoles me that ours is not the first union of necessity, nor shall it be the last. ‘Tis our hope that friends and family will work as fervently as we to see our king well pleased.”