by Jody Hedlund
My surprise rapidly changed into pleasure that mingled with embarrassment. I was only glad I hadn’t spoken my thoughts regarding marriage and Lord Caldwell aloud to the abbot, that I’d chosen to keep them hidden for the time being.
I’d noticed the Baron of Caldwell and his wife in passing at the funeral. I’d glimpsed Thomas as well. But the ceremony hadn’t been the time or place to renew my acquaintance with him. But now, with his solid presence before me and the depths of his eyes revealing his sympathy, I had the sudden urge to fly down the rest of the aisle and bury my face against his solid chest.
“I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you,” he said.
“I’m glad you did.” Sudden shyness rooted my feet to the floor.
He took a step toward me then stopped. “My heart breaks for your loss, my lady.”
A knot wound around my throat, preventing me from responding.
“It all happened too fast,” he continued softly. “It seems only yesterday we were all together . . .”
I nodded, thinking back to the week before the outbreak when our families had been happy and alive, riding, hunting, and feasting. If only I’d known then how deadly the plague was, I’d have demanded that my parents seclude themselves with me.
Thomas shifted and glanced to the distance between us as though he wished to close it. But at the sight of the abbot directly behind me, he remained where he was. “I wanted the chance to tell you privately that I’ll do absolutely anything to ease your pain. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
His words sent a flutter of warmth through my stomach. “Thank you, my lord.”
Behind me, the abbot cleared his throat. “I can see that must speak with you about your future, Lady Rosemarie.”
A heated flush stole over me, and I was sure that my face was now as red as a ripe cherry. The very last thing I wanted to do was speak about my future in front of Lord Caldwell.
“I can see that you’re not aware —”
“Please, Father Abbot,” I rushed to silence him. “May we discuss this alone later?”
His brows pinched together, and he regarded me a long moment before finally nodding. “Very well, my lady. But I do think we should converse at your earliest convenience.”
“On the morrow?” I offered, but I didn’t pay attention to his reply, because Lord Caldwell had started down the aisle toward me. His eyes held mine fast and my heartbeat walloped against my chest, drowning out all but Lord Caldwell’s determined footsteps.
When he reached me, he held out his arm, indicating that he would be my escort. For a brief instant I considered what my people would think if I exited the church on his arm. Would they find reassurance in such a move, knowing that their new ruler would someday potentially partner with a kind and wise man like Thomas?
I slipped my hand into the crook of his arm, the firmness and surety of his grip giving me the confidence that I needed. As we walked down the aisle to the door, his strength and vitality reminded me that I still had so much of my life ahead of me. My parents might have died, but they wouldn’t have wanted me to be dead in my grief for them. Instead, they would have wanted me to go on living to the fullest.
As we stepped out of the cool stone sanctuary into the summer evening, I was so overcome by the masses of people that waited, I had to stop. For a moment, all that I could do was peer at the crowd, at the weathered faces of people who’d known little but toil their whole lives. The sorrow and despair in the wide eyes that stared back at me stirred my soul with anguish. They’d lost so much over the past couple of weeks, including their beloved leaders.
I could see the questions in their eyes. Even the accusation that I’d never be enough. I was only a girl. How could I take the place of my father and mother? How would I ever have the same wisdom and leadership ability?
Even if I wanted to show them that I would rise to the challenge, I didn’t know that I could. I didn’t have the experience of my parents. What if I never did? What if I made mistakes? Or what if I failed the people completely?
Thomas squeezed my hand, the gentle pressure reminding me that I wouldn’t have to rule alone. I would have a husband to help me, an equal partnership like what my parents had shared. I might even have Thomas by my side.
It wasn’t until we’d ridden past the last of the massive gathering that I finally breathed deeply again. Several guards rode ahead, their hands on the hilts of their swords, their eyes watchful. The abbot rode behind Thomas and me, close enough that I didn’t want to engage in too much conversation.
The town walls loomed ahead. Beyond the town was the magnificent fortress that now belonged solely to me. I tried desperately not to think about the fact that my mother wouldn’t be there to greet my return ever again. But the thought settled like a damp fog upon my heart.
I rode silently, my head downcast until at last we drew nigh to the town. Our horses clomped down the well-worn dirt path toward the drawbridge, and finally I lifted my head, knowing that as the abbot had instructed I must appear a capable leader to my people.
My gaze landed upon a scene at the entrance of the bridge, and my blood turned to ice. On either side of the embankment, two shirtless men had been laid out on the ground, their arms and legs tied to stakes. Although I abhorred torture as an instrument of discipline and considered it inhumane and barbaric, I knew my father had allowed it from time to time when someone committed a crime severe enough to necessitate such measures. That fact hadn’t frozen me. Rather, it was the severity of the torture, the wide, metal cages lashed to their bare stomachs, which now brought nausea swelling into my throat.
In the cages were rats. Skinny, starving rats with razor-sharp claws and dangerously sharp teeth. From the bloody mass of flesh that had been ripped open on the abdomens of both men, I guessed that the rats had been burrowing for some time.
I looked away as rapidly as I could, but the image was entrenched into my mind as sharply as an engraving into metalwork. Bile rose, and no amount of willpower or swallowing could keep it down. I leaned over my horse and emptied my stomach in wave after wave.
Around me, over the roaring in my head, I heard Thomas shouting orders to have the tortured men taken away, the clanking of the soldiers as they dismounted, and the abbot’s quiet murmurings of comfort by my side. Somehow I found myself being led over the stone bridge away from the two men.
Even then, the nightmare of what I’d witnessed tortured me.
Chapter
6
The sweet waft of roses bathed me, but still couldn’t drown the stench of bloody flesh that had haunted me since I’d finally arrived in my chambers. My servants had strewn the freshly picked rose petals over the rushes on my floor. They’d even scattered the delicate petals over my dressing table. But it hadn’t done any good.
I sat listlessly on my bench, staring into the looking glass but only seeing rats no matter how many times I’d tried to focus on Trudy arranging my hair into two looped plaits.
A knock on the chamber door made me jump. Even though my limbs had ceased shaking, my insides still quaked at every noise and every slight movement.
Trudy bustled to the door and opened it, revealing Thomas. With a grave face, he stepped into the doorframe but came no farther.
I started to rise from my dressing table, but he motioned me to remain seated. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lady. But I couldn’t stay away. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Please, don’t worry —” I started.
“I cannot bear to see you in distress,” he said. His features softened as he studied my face, which was surely still lined with my horror.
“The scene took me by surprise.” I shuddered, hoping I didn’t appear too weak. I wanted him to think of me as a strong woman, not a simpering young girl who couldn’t handle problems in my realm.
“I had some of the soldiers investigate the matter,” Thomas said. “And they informed me that the sheriff tortured the two men because they’d defied his order
by leaving the part of town still under quarantine.”
“Then they weren’t murderers or marauders or enemies bent on destruction?”
Thomas shook his head, his lips pressed together grimly.
“I don’t understand,” I said, my distress mounting. “Why would the sheriff resort to such horrible torture for a crime that is so minor?”
“Perhaps he only thought to prevent the spread of the Plague and deter anyone else from disobeying?”
“What if the men were only seeking food for their families?”
“I cannot say that I agree with his methods, my lady. And I also cannot tell you how to rule your lands . . .” His voice trailed as his gaze fell to my black gown. I had no doubt he was thinking about my parents’ deaths and how young I was to assuming such leadership. “But if I was in your position, I’d make a new law that prohibits such methods of torture. Then you can assure it won’t happen again.”
I nodded. “You’re wise, my lord.” Even though he hadn’t spoken his thoughts, he was right. I was young. The laws of the land stipulated that I would need the guidance of an adult to help me rule, at least until I turned eighteen. Perhaps Thomas would provide the counsel I required? Even if we hadn’t had time to get to know each other better, I trusted him. He was a good man. And I didn’t want him to leave Ashby.
I knew he couldn’t very well stay in Montfort Castle without his parents there to supervise and chaperone us. And I also knew that they wouldn’t be able to stay forever. The baron and baroness had their own land and peoples to oversee.
But the thought of Thomas having to leave any time soon filled me with desperation. I wanted to rush over to him and find security in his embrace. I had the feeling that if I did go to him, he would willingly hold me, he wouldn’t turn me away, and he would relish the connection.
However, the sight of Trudy standing guard in the middle of the room, her eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of us, took away any thought of seeking comfort in Thomas’s arms. Trudy would never allow it, especially not in my bed chamber.
I sighed. It was just as well. Something inside told me I had to be strong and learn to stand on my own first. My grief was still too fresh, my insecurities still too high. If I wanted to be a worthy companion, someone Thomas could respect, I had to mature first.
A scurry in a dark corner of the room brought me off my bench and sent my heart racing with fear. Was it a rat? I was tempted to jump up on my bench, and only the fact that Thomas was watching me kept my feet on the floor.
“The only good news that my messenger brought,” Thomas said, “was that the two men apparently hadn’t died from their torture. Rather, based on wounds to their chests, their hearts had been punctured by the sharp tip of a sword or halberd or knife.”
“Then some passerby took mercy on the men and put them out of their misery?”
“It would appear so.”
That would explain why the two men hadn’t been screaming and writhing in pain when we’d come upon them. The humane deliverer, whoever he was, deserved my deepest gratitude. “If your men discover the angel of mercy, please bring me the news. I’d like to reward him.”
Thomas nodded. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He merely shifted, glanced at Trudy, and then at the floor. I could see from the intensity of his expression that he wanted to say something more to me but that he longed to do so in privacy.
As if sensing the same, Trudy bustled toward the door and began to close it upon him. “Her ladyship needs to finish her ministrations.”
Thomas backed out. “Then we shall speak later of future plans, my lady.” I caught one last glimpse of his face, of the longing in his eyes, before the door shut. In spite of the grim circumstances, my heart gave a leap of expectation.
Future plans? Was he planning to propose to me?
I hugged my arms across my chest at the thought. If I married him with all haste, then I wouldn’t have to be alone here in the large empty halls of Monfort. I wouldn’t have to face the pains and sorrows of this time alone. I would have the leadership assistance that I needed.
As I took my seat and allowed Trudy to finish readying me, I pushed aside the thoughts that surfaced again, thoughts that warned me against relying too much on Thomas. The desire for his comfort and embrace was too hard to resist.
“There.” Trudy stood back and surveyed me, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side. “You look presentable, even if your face is as pale as the moon.”
“Thank you, Trudy.”
“I still think you should forgo the feasting.” Trudy eyed me before stepping forward and pressing her cool hand against my forehead. “Even if you’re not running a fever or shaking from chills, I think you’d be much better off in bed.”
I stood and shook my head. “I must attend. I have to at least thank my guests for coming.” There were several distinguished visitors that I had yet to greet, including my godfather, the wealthy Duke of Rivenshire also known as the Noblest Knight. Along with the others, I’d noticed the duke’s stately presence at the funeral. I couldn’t ignore him. To do so would be a complete breach of etiquette. Not to mention how much such behavior would have disappointed my parents. The duke had been my father’s dearest friend.
Of course, I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see Thomas again as well and learn what it was he wanted to discuss regarding the future, hopefully our future together.
Amidst Trudy’s fussing, I finally escaped my chamber and started down the long hallway, my old guard Bartholomew shuffling ahead of me, his shoulders permanently hunched. He led the way with his torchlight, and I followed with my small tallow lamp. When we reached the winding stairwell, I halted and peered up to the entry that led to my parents’ now-deserted chambers on the floor above mine.
Bartholomew had already started down the steps in his lopsided gait. But instead of following him, I tiptoed the opposite way. Something irresistibly drew me upward, and I didn’t stop until I stood in front of the thick paneled door that opened into my mother’s rooms.
I paused and listened. From the absolute stillness and silence, I surmised that the entire floor was unlit and unoccupied. The thought pierced my heart anew. Never again would I hear my parents’ laughter ringing against the brick walls. Never again would the warmth of my mother’s hearth fire beckon to me. Never again would I sneak into her bed on a stormy night to draw comfort from her arms.
Before I lost courage, I pushed open her door, stepped inside, and closed it behind me. I lifted my clay lamp higher, letting the glow fall over the room. My mother’s servants had obviously disposed of all of the linens, medicines, and herbs that had been strewn about her room the last time I’d visited, the day she’d died. But everything else was undisturbed, exactly the way mother had always ordered things.
Her bed had been topped with a feather quilt, the bed curtains tied open, and fresh rushes strewn about the floor, almost as though she were merely on a long trip and expected back any day.
“If only it were so,” I whispered, setting my lamp upon my mother’s dressing table and moving toward the wooden chest at the end of the bed. I wouldn’t have dared to open the chest had my mother been alive. But a deep, keen need to have a part of her back with me urged me onward. I lifted the lid, and the waft of lavender brought a prick of tears to my eyes. ’Twas my mother’s scent, gained from the small bags of dried lavender she kept among the folds of her clothing to help protect them from moths.
I lifted the top garment, the burgundy damask with a pomegranate pattern, and buried my face in it, letting my tears and hot, stifled sobs find release in the heavy material, in the beautiful dress that had been the last gift my father had given my mother.
“No more tears,” I murmured, thrusting the garment back into the chest and swiping at the wetness on my cheeks. It wouldn’t do to descend to the Great Hall and meet my guests with swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
Just as I started to lower the lid, the glint of sil
ver caught my eye — a key tucked into a slit in the flannel that covered the inside of the lid. The key had obviously been hastily put away; otherwise it would have been pushed all the way out of sight. I pried it loose and turned it over in my palm.
What was the key for? A secret chamber within the chest, perhaps?
I slipped my hand into the chest, past the layers of garments, until my fingers made contact with the bottom. I slid my hand along the edges, not really knowing what I was searching for, but the need to find the source of the key was growing. For several minutes I skimmed over every corner, every grain of wood, every flaw in the structure.
Finally, I sat back on my knees, released a long sigh, and stared at the chest. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe there wasn’t a secret chamber. Maybe the key went to some other locked box, like the small cabinets that stood against the opposite wall.
I started to replace the lid, but then stopped. I raised and lowered the lid several times, studying it, before allowing myself a small smile of victory — the first real smile I’d had in over a week. Persistence paid off. I’d figured out my mother’s secret compartment.
This time I opened the chest all the way and smoothed my hand over the layer of flannel until my fingers grazed a tiny lump behind the material — a keyhole. I pried the nearly miniscule hole in the flannel aside and stuck the key in.
It fit perfectly. With one twist, the inside of the lid dropped open to reveal a slim compartment. It was slender enough to hide necklaces and jewels and papers, the most valued possessions my mother owned.
One at a time, I examined the jewels, careful to put them back exactly as I’d found them, although they were now mine and I could do whatever I wanted with them. They were exquisitely beautiful, and most were pieces I’d never seen my mother wear.