But she knew she could not get out without him seeing her, so remained seated where she was and waited, awful visions of Sir Richard dragging her out by the hair in front of Anne and Lady Sabina passing through her mind.
‘Sir Richard?’ cried Anne delightedly. ‘I knew he was much taken with me when we met in Hartfield the other day. I could just tell! He was playing hard to get, you know, talking all rough and curt to me. He knows how wild we ladies go over a rogue. No doubt he saw me coming over to Stoatley and is coming to call on us, knowing I will be here.’
‘You are wrong, Anne!’ Lady Sabina said angrily. ‘It is me he has come to see. Everyone knows I am the most beautiful lady in the district. It is only natural that a man as handsome as he is would choose the most beautiful lady of his acquaintance. He has just been biding his time, not wishing to appear desperate.’
‘He’s nearly here!’ cried Anne. ‘Quick, where’s that mirror?’ She began running around the room frantically searching for it. ‘My hair needs fixing—I need to find it!’ Anne finally noticed that Sabina had the mirror and was using it to smooth her own hair. ‘Give that to me!’ she screamed, trying to pull it off her friend.
A knock sounded on the door and a servant maid looked in. ‘Sir Richard Hastings is here. Shall I show him up?’
‘Yes, Millicent, show him up please,’ said Rowena.
The other two ladies were still fighting over the hand mirror and had not noticed the servant.
Waiting for him to appear, Rowena breathed in deeply, trying in vain to slow her racing pulse. She could not deny she was drawn to him. There was something about him that she found deeply fascinating. Yet he was so angry, so sinister…
‘Sir Richard Hastings!’ announced the serving maid, flinging open the solar’s large wooden door.
Upon hearing this, Anne and Lady Sabina immediately stopped fighting and, hurriedly attempting to smooth their dishevelled hair and clothes, sat down.
Sir Richard strode into the room.
Rowena immediately searched his face for any clues to his intentions. But she found nothing except a grim, stony mask.
Ignoring Anne and Lady Sabina’s simpering greeting, he continued past them to where Rowena was seated by the fireplace at the far end of the room.
She rose to her feet and curtsied nervously. ‘Sir Richard, greetings.’
‘Good day.’ He bowed stiffly. ‘Rowena, I need to speak with you in private.’
She breathed a little easier. At least he was not going to humiliate her in front of Anne and Lady Sabina.
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied in a shaky voice. ‘Perhaps we could walk in the garden?’
He gave a quick nod.
As she led the way, Rowena tried, not altogether successfully, to act normally in front of the other ladies. ‘I was just about to go out there for a little fresh air when I saw you coming. The last of the summer flowers always put on such a pretty display,’ she said in the most casual tone she could muster.
Sir Richard followed Rowena down the stairs and out the door in silence. She felt too desperately uncomfortable to look him in the eye, but could tell without even looking at him that he was in a state of agitation.
She felt sick with dread. What if he was so angry with her that he slandered her to Lord Cunningham, and her uncle threw her out? Where would she go then? At least a successful throttling attempt would not have left her with that worry to contend with…
Having reached the small wooden door that led into the walled garden, Rowena fumbled with the latch, her shaking hands unable to grasp it properly.
‘Allow me.’
She started at the sound of his voice from behind, and quickly stepped back.
He swiftly unlatched the door and held it open for her.
As soon as they were enclosed in the privacy of the walled garden, Sir Richard started to speak. ‘I have a great deal of respect for the work you do at Eaglestone Castle. I hope you can forgive me for not always having made that apparent to you.’ His tone was grave and uneasy. As usual, he was uncomfortable in humility.
Made that apparent? Rowena thought angrily. That was an understatement if ever I heard one! What he has made apparent is his dislike, mistrust and desire to silence me forever.
With her eyes fixed ahead of her, she continued walking nervously along the path in silence. She was too afraid to look at Sir Richard lest her hard-won composure should crumble.
‘Rowena, I had a regard for you which I did not welcome. I am regretful if my manner towards you came across as one of coldness as a result.’
‘A regard which you did not welcome?’ Rowena gasped, his words stinging her painfully.
How could he be so cruel, coming here to add insult to injury? She angrily blinked away the tears that were beginning to fill her eyes and started walking faster, desperately wishing he would go away. How come he was always making her cry, damn him!
Sir Richard’s long stride matched hers with ease. ‘Pardon me, I did not say that very well,’ he responded hastily, his stony discomfort heating a little.
Their fast pace had brought the unhappy pair to the end of the walk, where a low stone wall stood between them and the garden pool beyond. Rowena was distressed at being forced to halt, but she made up for it by crossing her arms and looking determinedly out over the placid green water, where hosts of jewel-like dragonflies darted and hovered on gauzy wings.
A hand was placed on her shoulder. ‘What I meant was—’ Sir Richard began earnestly.
‘I understand your meaning perfectly!’ she interrupted, angrily shaking his hand off. ‘You think it is beneath you to have anything but contempt for a woman of lower birth who is neither fashionable nor beautiful in the eyes of your peers!’
‘Rowena, look at me! I believed your intentions towards me to be dishonourable, believed that you wished to win my trust and confidence in order to betray me.’
She could not bear to look at him. ‘I gave you no cause to think me guilty of such vile intentions!’
Nothing except the lazy chirping of grass crickets and hum of bees reached Rowena’s fearfully waiting ears. Then the soft creak of leather and muffled clink of metal which usually accompanied Sir Richard when he seated himself came from behind her. It was followed by a tense sigh.
‘I am ashamed, Rowena, ashamed…’
Surprise caused her to turn around instinctively. Sir Richard sat on a large flat boulder beside the path, resting his chin on his cupped hand as he stared gloomily at a marble statue of a sorrowing angel set amid a nearby drift of blue forget-me-nots. The angel’s wings were folded in pained awkwardness, its face etched with distress and hands clutched tightly together.
‘I am sorry for what I said to you on the stairs, and to lay hands on you in such a manner was foul,’ he said quietly. ‘I was in a bad temper, but you are right; the words I uttered and the way I acted were dishonourable and unworthy of any knight or man of honour. I’m a thoughtless bastard who is incapable of withstanding anything without flying into a murderous rage. God, how you must hate and despise me!’
The dejected, regret-filled words almost seemed to be addressed to the grieving angel, for Sir Richard did not remove his eyes from the angel’s weeping marble eyes as he spoke.
With a puzzled eyebrow raised, Rowena slowly uncrossed her arms. A few moments’ observation satisfied her that Sir Richard’s remorse was genuine. Much better actors than he have failed to look so guilty and miserable.
‘Your initial mistrust of me was understandable in the circumstances,’ she said stiffly. ‘Neither of us asked or wished for the presence of the other.’ She took a cautious step towards the seated sheriff. ‘I don’t hate you entirely…I know the castle is not a place where ladies are expected, or indeed welcomed. You treated me as you would any man in that position, and as you never asked for or wished for any woman to darken your doorway, it was not altogether fair of me to condemn your failure to act towards a lady with all of the delicacy a knight ought to
.’
His glittering black eyes suddenly turned from the sorrowing angel to his hesitant ex-assistant. ‘I know I frighten you, and I’m sorry. From a young age, my world has been a soldier’s world of brutality and violence. It is a world I have learned to survive in and feel at home in. But the noble virtues of patience, kindness and courtesy to others I have neither been taught nor ever shown any talent for. No wonder you cannot bear to look at me. What noble-minded woman could feel anything but revulsion at the sight of such a brute?’
She dropped the red rosehip she had been absent-mindedly squashing between her nervous fingers and finally dared to look him in the eyes. ‘Forgive me for saying you are not worthy of knighthood. War is a brutal business that cannot fail to leave a man stained.’
He nodded and smiled weakly at her fingers, which had been stained red from the juice of the rosehip. ‘Ever since the day I arrived as a page at Lord Mordred’s castle and was beaten to a pulp by the older boys, all I wanted was to grow up and kill people. Many were the thrashings I received in boyhood, but the day I walked out of the chapel as Sir Richard, I swore to myself that only in death would I ever again leave a fight defeated. I have the blood of many men upon my hands, but to have laid even one finger on such a virtuous and blameless lady as you gives me guilt a hundredfold greater. Rowena, let me make amends by proving to you that I can be chivalrous.’
Her brow furrowed doubtfully. ‘Oh?’
He slid off the boulder and came to rest on bended knee before a very surprised Rowena. ‘Will you honour me with a token of your favour?’
Was this him asking her to be his lady-love, as Lady Sabina informed her was the fashion at court among the knights? She could not bring herself to believe that such a man could possibly admire her for who she was: a down-at-heel, clumsy and unfashionable young woman with no prospects. Was this some cruel jest? It had to be. He was too proud a man ever to lower himself like that.
Rowena blinked hard. She felt uncomfortable enough already without having the tears welling in her eyes overflowing down her face. ‘I might not be a proper lady, but ’tis cruel of you to mock me so, Sir Richard!’
He flinched like a man who had been struck across the face. ‘I swear to you, I am entirely sincere! I promise I will loyally serve and honour you until my dying day.’
Still apprehensive, she searched his face for dishonest motives. His earnest expression gave no reasonable cause for doubt. ‘I accept,’ she murmured, colouring slightly with embarrassment at finding herself an actor in such a formal and unexpected ritual.
He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips with a passionate fervour. ‘Sweet mistress of my heart, your fair example and peerless, lily-hued virtue shall be the light that illuminates my path and the undying flame of courage within my soul forever more!’
Rowena was too busy staring down in wide-eyed surprise to consider what she ought to do next. But Sir Richard’s look of expectation soon became apparent to her. She smiled uncertainly and silently cursed herself for not paying enough attention to Anne’s endless talk of knights and courtly love.
To her relief, he did not let her suffer for long. ‘A token, my lady, I beg of you, that I might wear it as a sign of my devotion to you.’
‘Of course!’ she exclaimed, growing a little redder at her slowness.
Then she thought for a moment. Sleeves and veils were popular tokens, but she did not own a veil, and as for sleeves, the mere thought of giving him one of her piteous threadbare ones made her cringe. Just when she was about to resign herself to offering a crumpled and yellowed old handkerchief, Rowena realized she was already holding the answer between nervously fidgeting fingers. It was a finely carved green gemstone swan on the wing, and apart from her late mother’s gold sun, the only other thing of any worth she owned.
‘Take this,’ she said, removing the pendant.
He swept his hair back from his neck—a clear signal that he wished her to put it on.
Once the pendant was in place, she took a step back. ‘This was a gift from my father. I could never be parted from it, but while you wear it, it is still with me. Because you now belong to me, Sir Richard.
He kissed the token fervently. ‘I shall treasure it always. This green jewel is the very same shade as your eyes. I pray that I will prove myself worthy in your eyes someday.’
.8.
Fear in the Forest and
at the Feast
HURRYING along the path late in the evening, Rowena pulled her cloak more tightly around her. She knew she ought to have left sooner.
Although it was full moon, she comforted herself, emerging from Eaglestone Castle’s dark shadow and into the bright silver light. She would have left for home earlier, but because she had not done any work for four days, such a backlog had built up that, despite her early start, it had taken her all day and some of the evening to get through it all.
The path was lit clear as day by the moon, but she still felt uneasy. It was not far to Stoatley, only a brisk half hour walk. But the path passed into the forest for some of the way, where she knew it would be shaded from the moonlight by the dense tree canopy.
Still, there really was not much she could do now. Sir Richard had offered to put her up at the castle for the night but she had declined. Local gossips found enough reasons to condemn unmarried maidens as harlots without even having any real evidence. God knows what they would come up with if a girl gave them some proper fodder by sleeping overnight away from home. Probably conclude that she was an evil witch who had married the Devil and given birth to a goat...
Suddenly, a crunch sounded from near the edge of the road. She started at the sound, but then laughed when she realized it was only a hedgehog cracking open a snail shell with its powerful teeth to get at the tasty morsel inside.
‘Stop being silly!’ she scolded herself aloud. ‘There’s no one here except for the creatures of the night searching for a meal.’
But in spite of her brave words, she still felt rather jumpy. Rowena normally loved to be outside at any time. She had often ventured out on a warm, moonlit evening and climbed up to the top of the valley. There, she would lie down on her back in the sweet-smelling grass, gaze up at the silent circling stars and listen to the sounds of the night: the chirp of crickets, the fox’s bark, the song of the nightingale, and the owl’s haunting cry echoing across the valley below.
But on this moonlit evening, she would much rather have been safely indoors. She could not keep the thought of the violent, sinister men who had been seen in the shire out of her mind. Although not this close to the garrisoned castle, she reassured herself.
Nearing the dark forest, the sound of owls hooting amongst the trees made her shiver. Upon passing into the shadow of the trees, she had to stop for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimly-lit conditions. Barely able to make anything out in the darkness, she clutched the golden sun-pendent around her neck, its faint warmth giving her a little comfort.
As soon as she could see the path in front of her, she started hurrying onwards again. Rowena had not got far when she was seized by the overwhelming feeling that someone was watching her. At first she put it down to an overwrought mind combined with an overactive imagination, and managed to force herself to keep walking calmly forward, knowing that if she broke into a panicked run she would likely trip and fall on the dark path.
Then the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping rang out in the darkness to her left. The maiden instantly stopped and turned towards the direction from whence it came. But she could not see anything except dimly looming tree trunks.
‘Is there anyone there?’ she called out into the heavy darkness.
There was no answer. Deathly silence reigned in the black forest all around.
She was just about to start hurrying onwards when a loud crack sounded out. Panic gripped her. She was sure that only a man could cause such a large twig to snap. None of the wild animals who roamed the forest, except for deer, which would have taken
fright by now, were anywhere near heavy enough.
Rowena scanned the darkness again. And there, among the dusky, towering trees she could just make out the shape of a human figure. She spun around, heart pounding, and started running back the way she had come.
Eaglestone Castle was not far and offered her best chance of safety. She focused on the light at the end of the dark tunnel of trees, running towards it as fast as her short legs could carry her.
The sound of heavy, pounding footfalls followed. She dared to glance over her shoulder. A tall figure bounded after her, his long black cloak flying out behind him like the wings of a gigantic bat. He had a scarf tied around his face which left only his eyes showing, and in his hand, she caught the cold glint of steel.
Rowena screamed in terror. Her pounding heart felt as if it was about to burst as she gasped for breath, and her lungs and throat burned. She could hear him gaining on her. His footfalls were becoming louder and louder and the sound of his heavy breaths getting closer.
Mustering every remaining drop of strength left in her, she made a last, desperate attempt to reach the end of the woodland path.
Just as she was bursting out into the open, a large, cold hand that felt as if it were made of iron seized her shoulder from behind. She screamed and fell to the ground, pulling her attacker down with her.
‘Help!’ she screamed as they rolled on the ground.
She pulled herself away and avoided being pinned under him, then struggled frantically to get to her feet. But it was no use. She could not free herself from the vice-like grip he had on her arm.
As they struggled on the ground, the creature fumbled for something caught in his cloak. The muffled clunk of metal came from near his hand. The dagger! He was trying to free the dagger caught in his cloak!
‘Help, somebody please help me!’
But there was no one there, only the silent moon looking sadly down on the night.
‘Please don’t kill me, I’m too young to die!’ she pleaded desperately.
His hard, glinting eyes regarded her with cold detachment. ‘I have not come to kill you,’ he rasped, ‘only to fetch a little gift for your master.’
The Heart of Darkness Page 12