by Sarah Hegger
“I am returning to the keep. This is not the time for this.” Kathryn turned her back on Digory and picked her way across the rocks. “Go home.”
“I will wait.”
When she reached the top of the rise, Digory still stood on the rocks, watching her.
She had done her part, listened to him. “Let us go to the kitchens.”
Why would Matty tell Digory that their father struck her? Why would any woman lie about something like that? Except, Matty did fit the truth to her means at times. Matty’s disloyalty writhed inside her.
A kitchen drudge stood aside as she and the boys entered the kitchen.
If Matty lied to Digory, she must have good reason. And Matty feared their father with a terror that choked her at times. Time and time she had begged Kathryn to save her from the results of her actions. Kathryn did, because as the older sister, it fell to her to protect the younger.
She seated the boys at the table, then found a cloth and washed their faces and hands.
Adam tried to wriggle away.
Richard sat still, but pulled faces that drew chuckles from the kitchen workers.
Cook placed honey cakes and beakers of milk before the boys.
Richard guided Adam’s hands around the beaker and helped him to drink.
As she had done for Matty when they were younger.
“There you are.” Matty appeared in the kitchen doorway, one hand pressed against the frame, the other clasped to her bosom. “How could you be absent at a time like this?”
“I took the boys out.” Matty’s overdeveloped sensibilities in these situations chafed. By contrast, Kathryn struggled to express her emotions, and kept them deep inside. Perhaps if she could be more like Matty, the ache might not gnaw quite so much. The only person who had seen her cry freely was Roger. Dear God, she wanted to start this day again, by his side.
“Oh.” Matty dabbed at her tears. “You poor little sweetings.” She descended on the boys in a cloud of rosewater and flung her arms about their shoulders. “How you must weep and long for your Uncle Henry. He was the very best of uncles.”
“You did not know Uncle Henry.” Richard blinked at her, while Adam stuffed another honey cake in his mouth.
Undeterred, Matty pressed their heads to her chest. “Such brave little boys to keep your strength at a time like this.”
“We are hungry.” Richard wriggled free and shuffled down the bench.
“Kathryn.” Matty straightened and thrust her shoulders back. “We must bear the burden of daily tasks for our new family. I will instruct the laundresses to die all our wimples black. They must also find black cloth to drape over all the casements.”
Had Matty been at the mead already? She meant well, but only Lady Mary should give that instruction, and that would not happen until they had proof Henry had died. “Nay.” She wiped Adam’s sticky hands. “That is not our place. If you want to help, I would suggest you make yourself available for Lady Mary’s instruction.”
Matty’s mouth drooped. “Lady Mary is beside herself. She stares into the flames hour upon hour. Will not eat, will take no rest. I fear for her health. They say her health suffered with the birth of Mathew. This could kill her.”
Richard paled and glanced from her to Matty.
“Matty, you go too far. The news reached us only a few hours ago. The most sensible thing we can do is remain calm, and help where we can.”
“You are always so sensible.” Matty stomped to the table and flung herself onto the bench. “I have feelings, and they need to come out.”
“Is my grandmama sick?” Richard tugged on Kathryn’s skirt.
“Nay.” Kathryn crouched to his level. Why could Matty not guard her tongue? “But she is very sad and very worried. And she will need all the cuddles you can give her.”
“Indeed.” Garrett entered the kitchen. “Did you have a good time with Lady Kathryn?”
“Garrett!” Matty sprang to her feet. She ran to him, and cupped his face in her palms. “How do you fare?”
“He fares as well as he can.” Beatrice entered on Garrett’s heels. “But your concern is noted.” She glared until Matty dropped her hands. “Thank you for taking the boys, Kathryn. It’s not good for them to be cooped up with a bunch of weeping adults.”
“My pleasure.” Kathryn managed to formulate the words, but Matty’s behavior left her dumbfounded. Matty barely knew Garrett. What was her sister about?
Chapter 29
Kathryn sat in her casement while the moonlight played hide and seek with the waves. As the days dragged into a fortnight she spent most of her nights here. With no news yet from Roger, Anglesea hung suspended between hope and despair.
Sleep evaded her, and when she did sleep, her worries chased her into her dreams. The silence from Roger stretched everyone’s nerves to breaking. Anglesea folk went about their business, but remained tense and waiting. Any sound from the gates brought the entire keep to a halt as all eyes swung in that direction, only to suffer disappointment time and time again.
She missed Roger so much she had taken to wearing his chemise to bed. His scent clung to the fabric and she wrapped her arms about herself. All alone in London, on a task that must be tearing him apart.
Mother wedged into a secret place in her mind. At Mandeville, her mother lived with that monster and Kathryn could not reach her, and protect her. Anglesea had enough heartache right now, and she shared her worry with nobody. She had tried to speak with Matty about it, but Matty dismissed her fears. With a toss of her head, she had declared Mother to be fine.
Matty provided another niggling concern. Not as large as the other worries, but there all the same. From Calder, Faye, Gregory and their children had arrived two days hence. William sent word that Alice’s confinement made travel too risky, but they would come when they could. God knows what Matty would have made of William. Already, she divided her time between comforting Garrett and Gregory. She’d even cozied up to Sir Arthur a time or two.
When Kathryn suggested Matty speak with her own husband, who still lurked in the village, Matty had burst into tears, accused her of betraying her and taken to her bed for the remainder of the day.
A stiff breeze ruffled Kathryn’s hair, cool on her face. She had left Matty to fend for herself that day, and she still felt like a bad sister. Matty had emerged for dinner, wan and listless, and sent her reproachful glances all through the meal.
The lightening sky marked the hour as close to dawn. As a child she had believed the moon granted wishes, and sent countless of them up to her.
“Please let Henry be alive,” she whispered, her voice loud in the still chamber. “And guard over my mother.” Her whimsy embarrassed her, but she sent another quick prayer anyway. “I know I ask much, but could you bring Roger back to me, too? And if it is not too much to ask, could you…do something about Matty?” The moon beamed down, cold and aloof. “I am not sure what, but Matty is accustomed to being the darling of the keep, and she…”
What? Matty liked all attention on her, and ensured it stayed on her. At times, Kathryn believed she and Matty had grown up in entirely different households. How could the same father treat two daughters in such a different manner?
She shifted her numb ass on the cushion. Her body urged sleep, but her mind would not allow it. Tomorrow would bring more of the same and she needed her rest. Over the last fortnight she had become the unofficial nurse to Beatrice and Faye’s children.
Beatrice’s time to deliver her fourth child also drew close, and she needed to rest more and more.
In search of warmed mead to help her sleep, Kathryn crept through the still keep. By the deep shadows beneath Lady Mary’s eyes, she would guess if she knocked on Lady Mary’s door, she would find her mother by marriage keeping vigil with her.
She entered the hall, and won her wager. Lady Mary sat beside Sir Arthur at the hearth fire.
“Kathryn.” Lady Mary held out her hand. “
I see we are not the only ones keeping watch through the night.”
Sir Arthur rose and fetched her a goblet. “My lady had the uncanniest sense that we would receive news.” He touched Lady Mary’s cheek. “I have learned never to ignore her sense of these things.”
“What he means is that when I cannot sleep, he cannot sleep.”
Handing her the goblet, Sir Arthur motioned to his seat. “Take it.” He pressed her gently into the chair. “I find I am too restless to sit for long.”
Sir Arthur paced to the far casement and stared into the night.
“He finds the waiting hard.” Lady Mary watched her husband. “He would be happier if I put a sword in his hand and sent him to fight something.”
Kathryn nodded. In that way she resembled Sir Arthur. “Do you sense Roger returns this night?”
“I am not sure.” Lady Mary pressed a hand to her temple. “I just have this sense that something will occur.” She sipped her wine. “Tell me how you fare.”
“I am well,” Kathryn hid behind her goblet.
Lady Mary’s laughter sounded a little rusty. “Kathryn, you are pacing the floor in the middle of the night. That does not say well to me.”
“I would like Roger to return,” she said, parceling out her truth carefully. Lady Mary already bore a heavy burden.
“I see Mathilda’s husband is about still.” Lady Mary stretched her slippered feet out to the fire. “He seems determined to see her.”
“I will deal with him.”
“We will deal with him.” Lady Mary rested her head back, and closed her eyes. “The Lord knows we can do nothing about our situation. Do you still think he raised his hand to your sister?”
“I am not sure.” Despite her loyalty to Matty, her doubts persisted. Matty’s strange behavior did not ease them any either. “Matty is…different.”
Lady Mary opened her eyes. “How different?”
Uncomfortable with speaking of what she had no answer for, Kathryn lightened her tone. “Matty will be fine.”
“You may as well tell her all.” Sir Arthur’s hand landed on Kathryn’s shoulder. For a big man, he crossed a hall like a wraith. “I have learned over the years to tell my lady what she wants to know.”
“I do not want to burden you at this time.” Kathryn took a sip of wine to ease her dry throat. Even speaking of Matty to another felt bad.
“Pfft!” Lady Mary waved her hand. “My own thoughts drive me near to screaming as it is. I welcome the distraction. Perhaps Mathilda is enjoying a taste of freedom for the first time?”
Lady Mary had missed nothing of Matty’s cooing and flirting. That clear gaze told her that as clearly as if she spoke the words. “That is my hope.”
“Have you any news of your mother? Do you know how she fares?”
The switch in conversation relieved Kathryn of having to go further down that road. “I had a brief message from her the other day. She said all was well.”
“As she would.” Lady Mary smiled. “She would not want to burden you.”
A true strike, and Kathryn returned her smile.
“Sir Arthur?” A guard entered the hall. He removed his helm and bowed low. “There is a message from London.”
Lady Mary stilled, and glanced at her.
“Give it here.” Sir Arthur stalked the poor man.
The guard stepped back, the message out held in his shaking hand.
Kathryn dug her nails into her thighs as Sir Arthur read the message. It could not take so long to read the few lines the small parchment could hold.
Sir Arthur crumpled the parchment in his fist. He dropped his head.
“What is it?” Lady Mary rose, then sat again as if her legs could not hold it. “Is Henry…?”
“Nay.” Striding to her, Sir Arthur flung the parchment from him. He crouched before her. “But the news is not good.”
Kathryn swallowed the lump in her throat. “What is it?”
“The crown has received word that prisoners will no longer be ransomed.”
“Dear God.” Lady Mary’s knuckles whitened on the arms of her chair. “But they have always ransomed their noble prisoners.”
“They want us gone,” Sir Arthur said. “They want the pilgrims out of their land, and they act to ensure it.”
No more ransoms, meant little to no hope Henry would survive if he had been captured.
Lady Mary slumped in her seat.
Kathryn crossed to her, but her clumsy tongue did not have the right words of comfort. She took Lady Mary’s frigid hands in hers and chafed them. “It is bad,” she said. “I know it looks bad but perhaps he escaped, or is hiding somewhere.”
“Perhaps.” Lady Mary drew a shuddering breath. “Does Roger say when he returns?”
“Soon.” Sir Arthur rose and paced the hall. “He will spend a few more days to see if he can gather any more information.”
Lady Mary’s pallor concerned Kathryn, and she pressed her wine on the other woman until she took a sip.
“I must pray.” Straightening her shoulders, Lady Mary pressed Kathryn back. “Will you send Nurse to me?”
“Aye.”
Kathryn stood beside Sir Arthur as Lady Mary left the hall with her back straight.
Sir Arthur’s stillness set the air between them alight. Tight-lipped, he watched his lady. His fists clenched. “No more.”
Kathryn took a wary step back. This was a side of the man she had only glimpsed before. Here stood the fabled Sir Arthur of Anglesea.
“No more.”
“What?” In his contained rage Kathryn could believe him capable of every wild story she had heard of his ruthlessness in battle.
“I am Arthur of Anglesea.” His voice rose on a roar that bounced around the enormous hall. “I am not some puny, powerless runt to be dragged along in the wake of my fate.”
“Sir Arthur.” Kathryn dared not step closer.
Rage built in Sir Arthur until she feared it would burst from him. “I do not sit like an old woman in my hall when challenged.”
“What can you do?” Kathryn tried to keep her tone calm and reasonable. He reminded her of Sir Royce, only far more frightening than her father had ever been. Even at his worst, kicking and punching her senseless, he had not held the raw power of Sir Arthur.
“What can I do?” Sir Arthur raised his fist. “I can act.”
“What are—?”
“Heathens may have my son. I will raise the greatest army God or man has ever seen and I will break them until they give him back. For each drop of his blood spilled, I will spill a thousandfold more.”
He was beyond reason, beyond control. Sick to her stomach, Kathryn knew she had to act. “Sir Arthur you cannot—”
“Do not tell me what I cannot do, Kathryn.” He strode toward her. “I was barely old enough to shave and they told me I could not take control of my demesne. Yet here we stand.” His voice dropped to a silky murmur. “Ask Garrett what happened when they told me I could not take his father’s keep. Ask any of the misguided sods who have stood in the way of what I want.”
He could not mean his words. Anger and pain had Sir Arthur in their grip. If Roger were here, or William even, she could run to them. “Let me get Gregory and Garrett.”
“Tell them to fetch their swords or stay out of my path.” Sir Arthur stormed for the entrance.
“Where are you going?” Kathryn trailed him as close as she dared.
“I am going to get my son,” he said over his shoulder. “But first, I am going to get your mother back. Arthur of Anglesea fights.” He threw back his head and bellowed, the sound echoing off the stone and swelling.
Kathryn covered her ears.
Dear God! She stood frozen as his boot heels rang against the stone. Then Kathryn ran.
Chapter 30
Making herself as small as possible beside a line of crossbows, Kathryn lingered in the armory and listened.
Garrett
paced the room. Row upon row of lances stood to attention behind him on the wall.
Gregory leaned his hips against the table covered in maps, and watched him.
“He is beyond reason.” Garret paced back to Gregory. “Nothing I say penetrates that thick skull.”
“Sir Arthur is a man of war.” Gregory folded his arms. “It is all he has known. It is all he knows now.”
“Jesu.” Garrett slammed his fist into the table. A pewter goblet clattered to the floor. “He will bring Anglesea to her knees if he persists with this.”
Gregory put the goblet back. “He knows no other way.”
“He gathers the men, right this minute, to march on Mandeville.” Garrett strode to the casement, his back taut as he stared out.
Kathryn had caused all of this. Sir Arthur made war on Mandeville to get her mother back. King Henry would not tolerate it, and Anglesea would pay the price of his anger. All because of her. Thus stood the facts and she could not dance her way around them. She needed to fix this. Taking a small step closer, she raised her voice. “What if there was no reason for him to make war on Mandeville?”
Garrett whirled and glowered at her. “No matter what you say, he will launch this fool’s errand. His grief over Henry renders him deaf to anything but his need to act.”
Gregory cocked his head. He saw so much deeper than the average man. “My lady?”
“I mean, what if my mother was already at Anglesea. Then there would be no need for this war.” Kathryn gripped her hands together. She could not show her nerves now. The audacity of her plan staggered her, but she saw no other way.
“Your father has already declared he will…” Garrett’s tensed, his stare narrowed on her, sharper than the blades gleaming on the walls. “Whatever you are thinking, forget it.”
“Nay.” She could not falter now. “Sir Gregory is the calmest, most reasoned voice here. He must stay. You are needed by Beatrice’s side.” Garrett had to see her reasoning for the good sense it made. “Roger arrives any day now, but he might not arrive before the army marches.”