by B. A. Morton
“That’s a very good place to start,” hummed Grace.
“Miles’ mother, Katherine, was the cousin of Gerard de Frouville’s father. She lived at the castle with Gerard the Elder and his wife, Lady Maud, since childhood. When Gerard died, Maud banished Katherine here to Wildewood.”
“Why?” asked Grace. She began to delicately colour Linus’ image and despite the lack of palette the little portrait began to take on a life of its own.
“She was with child, of course,” answered Martha in an exaggerated stage whisper.
Grace looked up. “Miles?”
“Yes,” answered Martha. “Miles was born here and I cared for them both.”
“So Miles is Gerard’s half-brother?” That’s what Miles had alluded to when he referred to his past with Gerard.
“Maud believed so,” answered Martha. “Katherine would not speak of it, only to say the one she loved was lost to her. She mourned him every day. Miles was her reason for living. They lived a simple life here, she with her garden, Miles with the horses. She was a gentle and honourable lady. Miles is very like her.”
Grace wasn’t sure about gentle and she was equally unsure about honourable.
“It’s very sad,” she murmured. The poor girl, taken advantage of by her own cousin and cast aside when she became pregnant, and yet she still loved him?
Martha nodded but she’d not yet finished her tale. “Young Gerard took against Katherine and her son, jealous no doubt. Miles was such a bonny, happy bairn. Gerard wore a permanent scowl. He, bein’ older and bigger, used any opportunity to bully him.”
Martha grinned and Grace realised she was missing half of her teeth.
“Gerard was nay match for Miles, though, yer see, Miles bein’ a clever child and quick-witted. He took many a beatin’ but he always got the better of Gerard.”
Grace imagined Miles as a child. She could understand how he’d find it easy to outwit someone as lacking in intellect as Gerard appeared. She also knew how galling it would be to the outwitted one. She wondered if that’s what Miles had just done to her.
“So what happened?”
“When Miles was neither child nor man, Gerard brought a huntin’ party out to Wildewood. Truth be told, they were a mob of drunken louts, Gerard’s cronies bought with Gerard’s money. Ran amok in the woods and park, so they did. Katherine was trampled by Gerard’s horse. Miles was with her, saw what happened and accused Gerard of murder.”
Grace put the finishing touches to her painting and turned to give Martha her full attention. “So how come Gerard didn’t hang?”
Martha puffed with indignation. “Well, me dear, that would never do, would it? Hanging a baron on the say-so of a bastard upstart? Miles swore he’d kill Gerard himself, but at the time the lad was more at risk from Gerard and his cronies and needin’ protectin’ for himself. He was sent to Sir Hugh to be trained as a knight.”
“Sir Hugh?”
“Sir Hugh de Reynard, of Normandy.”
Grace pulled her legs up under her, wincing as her thigh rubbed against the wood of the seat. Martha noted her reaction and sucked at her teeth.
“Have ye suffered an accident, mistress?” she asked shrewdly.
Grace had no wish to discuss the cause of her discomfort and wondered why she felt it necessary to protect Miles’ reputation. She’d no doubt either he or Edmund had been responsible, but she believed it an accident and best forgotten.
“It’s nothing,” she replied. “Who is Sir Hugh?”
Martha rose with some difficulty from her chair as her bulk had moulded to the shape and it took some jiggling to release herself from its grip.
“Sir Hugh be a friend of Gerard the Elder. When he heard the terrible news, he agreed to take Miles.” She crossed to the fire where a pot was bubbling and lifted the lid to check the progress. “He went away a boy and has returned a man.”
“And he still wants Gerard’s blood?” asked Grace.
“He’s an honourable man. He’ll avenge his mother.”
At what cost? thought Grace, sadly.
This really was a mix up and she’d landed right in the middle of it. With so much bad blood between Miles and Gerard, her presence would only serve to make matters worse. Miles was right; Gerard would use her to get to him. Miles was no longer merely a bastard child. If he were to accuse Gerard of murder now, people might listen. King Edward might listen and Gerard may yet hang. Gerard would have to act quickly. No wonder Miles was suspicious of her. She wondered whether he believed her now or was merely blinded by lust. Time would tell, no doubt.
“Do you think my presence here is a good thing or not?” she asked Martha.
“Well, of course it’s a good thing me dear,” cried Martha. “Why else would Miles have brought ye here?”
To sell me to the highest bidder, replied Grace silently. “I don’t know, Martha. Why do you think I’m here?”
Martha gave a toothless grin. “Because Wildewood needs a mistress and Miles is a good judge of character. Yer young and spirited and will provide him with sons.”
I don’t think so, she thought and rose stiffly from her seat. “On that note, Martha, I think it’s time I left.”
“Left?” Martha looked aghast.
“Just as far as my chamber,” laughed Grace. “I would like to bathe later, if it’s not too much trouble. My leg’s a little stiff and warm water will no doubt be beneficial.”
“Of course, mistress, nay trouble at all,” replied Martha and she began bustling with the cauldron. “I’ll have it sent up.”
Grace smiled as she recalled the water cavalcade. “Thank you, Martha.” She gathered up her painting things, and using a basket loaned from the kitchen, she carried them up to her room. She left the painting of the child on the table to dry.
She wondered at Miles’ plans and if there was anything she could do to assist? Who was Gerard’s primary target after all, Miles or herself? She rather thought the outlandish story of her being a spy said more about Gerard’s insecurity than anything else. Perhaps he wasn’t as untouchable as he perceived. Maybe there was a way around this mess after all? She thought again about Miles’ demand for ransom money. Looking around she had to admit his need was real. He saw nothing wrong in what he’d done and believed by handing her to the bishop he could kill two birds with one stone. Return her to Kirk Knowe and get paid for his trouble. Was there actually anything wrong with that? Hadn’t she been asking from day one to go back?
She wondered if he’d sent his messenger and what she’d do when it was time to go.
* * *
The men came into the kitchen to warm up at midday and Martha fed them with pottage. Miles caught sight of the painting and drew it carefully towards him across the table. Grace was remarkably talented, he decided, but nevertheless he could not ignore the feeling of unease as he looked at her work. He’d never seen anything like it. He could have been looking at the child himself rather than an image. He held it up to the light and the colour on the child’s cheeks came alive. He hurriedly replaced it on the table and thought again of witches. He wondered why she’d lied about her painting, or indeed about the other things. She’d no flint, he was sure of that, yet she’d lit the fire. She said she had no link to the king, yet her expression when he was mentioned belied her denial. He wondered what it would take to get the truth from her. She had proved to be persuadable. Perhaps that was a more enjoyable method to use.
“Look, John,” he said as he carefully passed the cloth across the table, “see what Grace has created. It’s a perfect image of Linus.”
John admired the cloth with fearful reverence, his big hands gently holding the corners of the cloth. He glanced at Miles. “Perhaps it is a little too perfect. Blasphemous, some might say.” He folded the cloth carefully and tucked it beneath his shirt next to his skin. “I shall keep it safe.”
Miles nodded, distracted “Yes, John, a wise move. It would not do to have it fall into the wrong hands.”
&nbs
p; “She has many talents, my lord,” continued John. “A valuable asset to Wildewood, do you not agree?”
Miles met his eye. “An asset to be protected at all costs.” He forced a smile. He was not confident in his ability to protect her against Gerard. It was time to call in some favours.
Chapter Twenty
Miles found Grace at the stables with the filly. He stood in the shadows and watched her briefly as she calmed the flighty youngster with a soft murmur and even softer caress. He was no closer to understanding her, to knowing who she really was, but no matter her identity or true purpose, she would be his before the night was out.
“Have you chosen a name for her?” he asked, enjoying her nearness as he saddled the pony.
“Not yet. I need to get to know her first.”
Miles lifted her onto the saddle and allowed his hand to stray and his mind to wander as he handed her the reins.
“I thought about ‘Ransom’, what do you think?”
Miles ignored the jibe. “How well do you ride?”
“Well enough.” There was mischief in her tone and it drew him back from his contemplation.
“She’s young, and unschooled. You’ll need to be patient.” He glanced up and caught her smile. “Can you be patient, I wonder?”
“I have the patience of a saint.”
He too, could be patient when required. Had he not waited more than ten years to avenge his mother? But today he found his patience sorely tested. He could think of nothing but her.
“Take her round the courtyard and let me see how she responds to you.”
“Aren’t we going out into the park?” Grace’s disappointment showed on her face. “I thought we’d ride out together.”
Miles patted the pony’s rump. “It’s not safe. Stay within the wall.”
“For how long?”
“Until I’ve attended to Gerard.”
“And how do you plan to do that, you’re only one man?”
“He is also, one man,” replied Miles. “An over-confident man who will make a mistake.”
“And you, Miles, are you confident?”
“Realistic. That’s the difference between us.”
* * *
In the loft above the stables Belle lay on her stomach alongside Edmund and watched the boy silently as he in turn watched Grace and Miles with the pony in the yard.
“She is beautiful,” said the girl slyly as she pulled out a strand of straw and chewed one end. Edmund shrugged. “They make a good pair, don’t ye think?” she pressed, rolling on to her back.
“No.”
“Ah, but they do, Edmund, he bein’ so handsome and rich. Look at the pony he’s given her. A fine beast. It will have cost him, nay doubt.”
Edmund scowled. “He is not rich and she be far too good for him.”
“Surely not, Edmund? A gallant knight, master of an entire demesne - what woman could resist? Just look at the way he watches her. I’ll wager he’s not thinkin’ of ponies and such like.”
Edmund spun, anger sparking in his young eyes. “She’s not like yer other women. She will resist. He’s playin’ with her.”
Belle continued to study the couple from her lofty vantage point.
Miles stood at the centre of the yard and watched as Grace trotted the pony and then pushed her into a canter. She grabbed at her skirts as the pony picked up pace and Miles smiled at her attempts at modesty.
“Why does he not take her out into the park to ride?” asked Belle. She glanced at Edmund, irritated at his obvious infatuation.
“In case she buggers off, I reckon,” replied Edmund. He stood up and brushed the straw from his clothes.
“Why would she run off?” questioned Belle, a sudden gleam in her eye. There was definitely something odd about this whole situation. “I thought she was here under Miles’ protection?”
Edmund shot a quick glance at Belle. “The pony, I meant the pony. She’s young and still green. It’s safer keepin’ her enclosed until she settles down.” He let out a held breath.
“Is she a good rider?” asked Belle.
“Good enough.” He smiled and added, “though she hung onto me tightly enough when she shared my pony.” Belle shot him a withering glance.
He crossed to the ladder and lowered himself onto the top rung. “You may have time to spend the day up here, but I’ve got things to do.”
Belle stayed a while longer in the loft watching the couple in the yard. They were indeed a handsome pair, although Belle thought Sir Miles far too old and battle-scarred for her own taste. She’d seen him stripped to the waist at the water trough and been shocked by the number of scars. Edmund told her the worst was from a sword which almost cost his life. Her grandmother hinted he’d brought Grace here to wed and carry his children. And that was fine with Belle. Edmund would soon get over her when she’d a full belly. She could help him if he’d give her a chance. But if Sir Miles was just playing a game and Grace remained here and unattached, then Belle would have to take matters into her own hands. She wanted Edmund’s attention on her and her alone.
* * *
Miles sought out Edmund after supper and they walked together in the growing gloom by the stables. He’d barely had time for the lad since they’d arrived and he’d not yet dealt with the boy’s behaviour regarding Grace.
“How do you find Wildewood, Edmund? Is everything as you expected?”
“T’is grand, my lord,” replied Edmund. “The way it sits, hidden like, and can only be seen if yer know where to look.”
“And the others – Tom, John the Mason - have they made you welcome?”
Edmund nodded. “John’s been tellin’ me ‘bout his time in Lincoln. He worked with me father, did ye know that?”
“Yes, he told me, Edmund. He said he was a fine man. It’s good for you to talk with someone who knew him. I’m sorry that despite my best efforts I’ve been unable to take his place, but a father’s place is very special and should remain so.” It was unfortunate he could not say the same about his own father.
“You’ve been very good to me, my lord. I’d not be here if it weren’t for you. I know that and I am in your debt.”
Miles sighed and considered his words carefully, “We have become close, Edmund. I rely on you for many things. Do you know the reason for that?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“Well, because you are loyal and trustworthy, and I know you’ll always be truthful.” Miles could just make out the boys expression and he looked wary, uncertain. “Do you trust me, Edmund?”
“Of course.”
“Do you trust me to do the right thing for Lady Grace?”
Edmund was silent for a moment. Miles waited and the boy scuffed at the dirt beneath his feet.
“She is very lovely, is she not?” continued Miles, and Edmund nodded. “She’s a very fine and clever lady and she thinks highly of you, Edmund.” The boy looked up. “She’s been scared and alone and you have been a friend to her, she’s very grateful and hopes you will continue to be her friend.” Edmund stayed silent. “But you need to appreciate, Edmund, you are as a brother to her. A brother do you understand?”
“And you, my lord,” Edmund’s voice was barely a whisper. “What is she to you?”
Miles shook his head. “If I’m honest, Edmund, I don’t know. I find her exasperating and annoying, and at the same time I want her. What do you make of that?”
Edmund shrugged “Do yer still plan to sell her?”
“No, Edmund, I do not intend to ransom her. You were correct. It was an ill-conceived plan.”
“Do yer swear?”
“Swear on what?”
“That ye won’t sell her?”
“You have my word, Edmund.”
Edmund grinned and Miles sensed his relief.
“I have been made aware of certain things which lead me to believe she may be in danger, Edmund, and I need to know I can count on you.”
“What danger?” cried Edmund in alarm.
<
br /> Miles shushed him and glanced around warily. “Can I trust you, Edmund? Are we together on this?”
“Of course, my lord, I would do anything necessary.”
“Good, there are some things you need to know.”
Chapter Twenty One
It was late when Miles eventually climbed the spiral stairs to his room. With the exception of young Edmund, the rest of the household were sleeping and the gates were bolted against unwelcome guests. He’d left Edmund on first watch with a promise to relieve him when the moon began to wane. Miles felt secure in the knowledge he would be alerted in good time if anything untoward should happen during Edmund’s watch. The boy would not fail him. Little more than a child, he had the heart of a lion and would make a good knight one day. Though he was lowly born, Miles was determined to make good the cost of Edmund’s training. Circumstances may have caused the loss of his own valuable destrier and armour but it was a temporary situation. Fortunes could be reversed if there was will and determination, and Miles was not short of both.
He’d arrived late to supper and been so intent on other matters it was not until after the meal he’d realised the reason for his distraction. Grace was no longer there. He wondered at the reason for her absence. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts.
He paused now on the spiral stairs outside her bedchamber. He needed to speak with her, and although it could have waited till morning, he saw the light from beneath the door and decided he did not wish to wait. He knocked gently but received no response. She’d likely fallen asleep with the candle burning. Nevertheless he pulled the latch and opened the door to her room. He had to duck to enter through the small doorway, and as he did, he realised she was indeed sleeping. He closed the door behind him to stem the inevitable draughts, and quietly crossed the room.
This had been his mother’s room and he recalled how she’d decorated it with many bed hangings and tapestries. From spring through to autumn she’d brought in wild flowers, and the scent hung sweetly in the air.