Starless

by Kathryn Le Veque

  De Meynell was looking between the pair with both great outrage and great curiosity. “Apologize? For a hand that slipped?”

  It was clear that Samuel didn’t believe him, which led Susanna to suspect that de Meynell may have had little self-control when it came to women. This kind of thing must have happened before and, certainly, he’d been quite solicitous of her from the moment they were introduced. But it was also clear that Samuel wasn’t surprised that de Meynell was attempting to play the victim.

  “Then be sure your hand, or anything else, does not slip again,” Samuel said. “My sister is a Blackchurch-trained warrior. When I trained there, so did she. She is one of the most capable warriors you will ever meet, Witton, so do not take her for a weak woman. It would be a grave mistake.”

  As soon as Samuel told de Meynell of her true background, Susanna turned and headed out of the hall, picking up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip this time. She didn’t want to hear the ensuing conversation. Frankly, she didn’t care.

  Her point had been made.

  She wasn’t leaving simply because she was outraged at de Meynell’s behavior. She was leaving because she was anxious to write a missive to The Marshal to tell him what she knew.

  She finally had something to tell the man.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He was still here.

  It was nearing suppertime and the warm day had transitioned into a mild and clear night. Susanna was in her bower, where she’d been since leaving her brother and de Meynell in the hall a few hours earlier. One of the windows in her chamber faced the hall and she’d been keeping an eye on it to see if de Meynell ever left.

  So far, she hadn’t seen him.

  But the truth was that she had been focused on something else so she hadn’t spent all of her time staring out of the window. She had a lovely writing kit that she’d brought from Castle Rising, something she traveled with, and the kit had been opened to reveal several pieces of fine parchment, lying flat at the bottom of the box, and then a secured shelf in the box that contained ink phials, quill, sand, wax, and the stamp that used to belong to her mother. The entire kit, in fact, had belonged to her mother, the one thing she had of the woman.

  It was her prized possession.

  The stamp was a finely crafted item of an angel with a harp in his hand, with a big “B” in the harp for de Bowland. Her mother had been a de Bowland, a fine Cumberland family, and as Susanna used the quill and the precious parchment, scratching out a missive to Caius d’Avignon of Richmond Castle, begging him to deliver the enclosed information to William Marshal, she could feel her mother’s strength behind her.

  That wasn’t something she often felt.

  She’d chosen Richmond Castle for a reason – it was the largest royal bastion in the area, with direct ties to William Marshal, and she was certain d’Avignon would send her message along. Even if he was no longer there, surely the present commander would sense the urgency of the matter. Given that Richmond wasn’t far from either Aysgarth or Whorlton, it would be critical news for them.

  Far more critical than anyone realized.

  Even as Susanna wrote the careful words, she felt apprehensive, something that was foreign to her. So much of her world had been covering up her feelings, pretending things didn’t bother her because having trained in a world of men, she had been expected to have their callous attitude.

  Especially at Blackchurch – she was proud to have trained there, but the truth was that it had been horrifically difficult. She had to endure things that would have crushed most women, but Susanna refused to let such things crush her. She was strong and resilient, and she liked to think she got that from her mother. Her father had been a rather weak man who liked his drink, but her mother… Isabail de Bowland had been a rock.

  She’d inherited more from her mother than she knew.

  It took nerves of steel to do what she was doing, sending a missive to William Marshal under the very nose of her brother, especially when she’d taken great pains to make it clear that she did not support the king in any way. In fact, the story she’d given Samuel about her wound was that she’d been in the knight’s quarters at Castle Rising when one of the knights had spoken in support of the king.

  Having had too much to drink, Susanna had challenged the man and demanded he speak of anything great John had ever done in his lifetime. One thing had led to another, and a fight had ensued. De Winter had released her from her oath because she had started the fight.

  And that was the story she stuck to.

  Samuel had believed her because he’d had no reason not to, and it was a trust she’d carefully cultivated. After what happened tonight, however, she was going to have to take advantage of that trust by sending a missive to The Marshal because clearly, de Meynell was up to something.

  Mayhap a king who must be tamed.

  That quietly-uttered sentence told her what the man’s intentions were.

  Sitting at a small table in her chamber, the same small table where she used to sit with her mother and eat her meals when her father didn’t want his womenfolk down in the hall, Susanna carefully finished the missive as Meggie sat by the fire and tried to clean the dirt that had gathered on the skirt of her new green dress. Susanna sat in a heavy linen shift and a robe that belonged to her brother, too big for her, as she listened to the faint sounds of the crowded hall wafting over the bailey.

  “You have been very busy writing, my lady,” Meggie said. “Some of your poems must not have been successful.”

  Susanna looked up from the parchment in confusion. “Poems?”

  Meggie pointed to the hearth where Susanna had already burned two half-finished missives because she didn’t like the wording. Parchment was so precious, but she couldn’t take the chance that the missive would fall into the wrong hands.

  “Those,” Meggie said. “It smells strange when it burns. The parchment, I mean. It smells like burning flesh.”

  Susanna didn’t have much to say to that. She turned back to her missive. “I think this poem will be perfect,” she said. Then, she paused, eyeing her enthusiastic new servant. “Meggie… I must ask you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, my lady.”

  “I must send this missive to the commander of Richmond Castle,” she said, playing coy. “He is a special friend and this… this poem has been for him. I do not want my brother to know for fear he will become enraged with me. After all, it is unseemly for a lady to send a man a… poem. It would be a terrible thing for Samuel to know.”

  Meggie lit up with glee. “Is he your lover, my lady?” she gasped. “Why have you not told me about him before?”

  Susanna pretended to be bashful. “Because I was afraid to,” she said. “Meggie, this is very important. I want you to find someone to send this missive to him, right away. Do you know of anyone who could take this to him?”

  Meggie nodded eagerly. “I have a younger brother who could take it to him,” she said. “He is dependable.”

  “Good,” Susanna said. “I will pay him a silver coin if he will do this swiftly. But, Meggie… you must keep this a secret. You must not let anyone know. I greatly fear that not only will my brother become angry with me, but he could very well become angry with Richmond. I do not want to cause a conflict.”

  Meggie shook her head sincerely. “Nay, my lady. I promise I will not tell a soul.”

  Susanna smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “Tell your brother that he must deliver this missive to Richmond before my love marries another woman. Time is of the essence. He must read my… my poem if our romance is to flourish.”

  She made it sound both romantic and tragic at the same time, which fed Meggie’s foolish heart. Susanna was clever in that she knew a romantic secret would be kept much better than something that didn’t have an emotional pull.

  Finishing the missive, she read over it carefully as Meggie chattered on about her brother and how the lad didn’t want to work in their father’s tavern, either. He
wanted to be a soldier. She assured Susanna that she would leave at dawn and take the missive to Leyburn so her brother could be on his way before the day was out. If the weather remained good and all signs were favorable, he would be delivering it to Richmond by nightfall.

  Susanna could only pray that everything went as planned.

  The secure rule of a king might depend on it.

  Once the missive was sanded and sealed, she tucked it into her bed and sent Meggie for some food. Dismissing the maid when the woman returned, Susanna ate alone in front of the fire, thinking on the missive, on Achilles, anxious to tell him what she’d discovered that day.

  She was certain he would insist on marrying her immediately and taking her from Aysgarth, and she certainly wasn’t opposed to that. She’d been daydreaming regularly about the life they would have together after they were married, wondering if they would end up at Blackwell Castle with his family or if she and Achilles would still continue to serve William Marshal. Perhaps they would even go to Scotland and find Kress and Cadelyn.

  The future held endless possibilities and she was more than ready.

  Susanna watched the fire crackle, seriously considering going to bed, when there was a soft knock at the door. Rising wearily, she padded across the floor to answer it herself.

  Samuel was standing in the darkness outside.

  “Sam?” she said curiously. “What is it?”

  Samuel looked exhausted and he smelled heavily of alcohol. “You did not come to the hall to eat.”

  Susanna shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “I assumed de Meynell was still there and I did not wish to eat with him. I am sure you can understand that.”

  Samuel sighed heavily and pushed his way into the chamber. Susanna stood back, watching him with some concern, before quietly shutting the door behind him.

  “You do not understand, Susanna,” Samuel said after a moment.

  “What do I not understand?”

  “De Meynell. We must treat him… carefully.”

  “Please, tell me why.”

  Samuel came to a stop at the little table where Susanna had written the missive earlier. At the moment, it contained the remains of her meal, including a pitcher of wine that was half-empty. Samuel poured some into her cup and took a long swallow.

  “I have a confession,” he said. “When Father died, he left us a tidy sum of money and I was not wise with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I was foolish. Stupid.” He heaved a great sigh. “Do you know how I met de Meynell? In a gambling den in York. That should tell you how stupid I was with Father’s money.”

  Susanna wasn’t quite sure what he was driving at. “It is your money to do as you please,” she said. “There is no judgement here.”

  He waved her off. “I know you would not,” he said. “But it was more than the money. It was what it represented. When Father died, I found myself with responsibilities I did not want and I suppose I rebelled. I spent far too much time in that gambling den, Susanna. It was like a disease. The more money I lost, the more I gambled.”

  Susanna came away from the door, looking at her brother with great concern. “Samuel, what are you trying to tell me?”

  Samuel sank into the nearest chair. “I am telling you that the money is gone,” he muttered. “Worse still, I gambled away Aysgarth. To de Meynell. The castle and the Coverdale barony belong to him now and that is why you see his army in the fields below the castle. In fact, nearly all of the men at Aysgarth belong to him. I am here simply as his garrison commander.”

  Susanna was shocked. “Aysgarth is no longer yours?” she hissed. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

  Samuel wouldn’t look at her. “Because I am ashamed,” he said. “Or mayhap I was too afraid. I did not want you to know, but after what happened today with de Meynell, I am forced to confess. He is our liege, Susanna, and you must be tolerant of him. I know that is a lot to ask but, for my sake, I beg you. Be tolerant.”

  Susanna could hardly believe what she was hearing. Stunned, she made her way over to the table and sat in the opposite chair.

  “Oh… Samuel,” she breathed. “I do not know what to say.”

  Samuel looked at her, then. “Mayhap it is best you say nothing,” he said. “I know you are disappointed in me. I am disappointed in myself. Everything we had now belongs to de Meynell.”

  Susanna could see the abject shame in her brother’s face. She’d told Achilles that Samuel was more of a follower than a leader, in spite being Blackchurch-trained, but even she didn’t imagine the scope of his propensity to be a follower. He’d followed and gambled and ignored responsibility to the point of losing everything.

  Susanna felt nothing but pity for him.

  “This army from Gotha,” she said. “Why is he keeping it here? What is he planning, Sammy?”

  Sammy. She hadn’t called him that in years but, at the moment, it seemed appropriate. It was a softly comforting nickname and he seemed very much in need of such comfort.

  “Robert Fitzwalter is raising a rebellion against John,” he said hoarsely. “You know who Fitzwalter is, don’t you?”

  Susanna nodded slowly. “He’s a powerful man in London,” she said. “He also controls a good deal of Essex. De Winter has spoken of his hatred of the king.”

  “It is worse than that,” Samuel said. “He has allies in the north, including de Meynell. He also has ties to the Guy de Penthièvre, Duke of Brittany. You know that the dukes have periodically held Richmond Castle; sometimes it belongs to them, or sometimes the English king takes it back. That has been happening since the Duke of Normandy came to England’s shores. Right now, it is a crown property, but not for long. Not only are Whorlton and Aysgarth staging grounds for a mercenary army from Thuringia, but the Duke of Brittany has promised French troops because he wants Richmond Castle back and he plans to take it by force. The French are expected in Middlesbrough by Christmas.”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Susanna was stunned. This was exactly the kind of information she had been looking for, now given so freely by her drunk and despondent brother. All she could think of was that missive she’d scribed to the commander of Richmond Castle, now tucked away safely in her bed. She had to make sure this information made it into that missive.

  It was news of explosive proportions.

  “Are you certain?” she finally asked. “Why would de Meynell involve himself in Brittany’s issue?”

  Samuel shrugged. “Because he has been promised French lands. That is simple enough, for he is a greedy bastard. He helps re-establish Brittany in Yorkshire and Fitzwalter has an ally when the barons rebel against John.”

  Susanna stared at him, overwhelmed. “Are you participating in all of this?”

  Samuel kept his head down. “I am expected to lead men, aye,” he said, looking up at her. “I do not want to be part of this, Susanna, but I have no choice. I serve de Meynell now.”

  “Over a gambling debt?” Susanna said, both outraged and incredulous. “I cannot believe this. How much do you owe him? What would it take to buy back Aysgarth?”

  Samuel shook his head. “I have not asked him,” he said. “I have not had the courage to. Mayhap I will ask him someday.”

  Susanna could see the defeat in her brother, but it wasn’t just defeat – it was surrender. He had surrendered everything – his home, his pride – everything. And from what she could see, he had no intention of doing anything about it.

  “Why not now?” she insisted. “Why would you not want to regain Aysgarth?”

  Samuel brushed her off. “Because I am afraid that I will gamble it away again. If I could give it to you, Susanna, I would. You would have made an astonishing Baron Coverdale. A pity you were not born a man.”

  Susanna was feeling a good deal of frustration mingled with the sorrow she was feeling for him. The Samuel she had known her entire life had never been this complacent, willing to accept what life had dealt him. Sh
e always thought her brother had some fire in him; when he’d trained at Blackchurch, he’d had that fire. It had never been very strong, and he was one of the weaker men in training, but he was never a complete defeatist like he was now.

  She didn’t even recognize him now.

  “I will think of something, Sammy,” she finally said. “Give me time and I will think of something. I don’t want you to worry.”

  Samuel shook his head. “When you are here, I never do,” he said. “I am glad you have come home, Susu. Tell me you are home to stay.”

  Susu. Susanna hadn’t heard that since she’d been a child. She smiled faintly. “I am home for as long as I can remain,” she said. “Meanwhile, I want you to go to bed and sleep peacefully. Know that I will determine what needs to be done. I will help you, Sammy, I swear it.”

  “And you will be nice to de Meynell?”

  Her smile faded. “I will not antagonize him, but if he puts his hands on me again, I cannot promise you that I will not fight back.”

  Samuel simply nodded in resignation, finally pushing himself off of the chair as Susanna looped her arm through his, walking him to the door. She kissed him on the cheek before letting him go, watching his slumped figure head off into the darkness.

  A man with the weight of his lost legacy on his shoulders.

  As soon as he disappeared from view, Susanna shut the door and quickly headed back to the missive she’d stowed in her bed. Pulling it forth, she rushed to collect her writing kit again, setting it back on the table and carefully breaking the seal on the missive.

  There was some room at the bottom for her to include what her brother had told her, so she collected a quill and wrote a couple of sentences down by her signature. Careful not to smudge it, she sanded the ink and shook it off, blowing at it until it dried completely. Sealing the missive back up, she left her chamber and went on the hunt for Meggie.