Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Now, have the servants bring in the bag of wool,” he told his squire. The boy ran off to do as instructed.

  “So, you can really work that thing?” asked Conlin with a chuckle.

  “Of course.” Her words were cool and clipped. “It is my profession. I can spin wool faster and tighter than anyone on the entire coast.”

  “Fast and tight is good,” said John, making all of them chuckle at his jest. “A good spun wool will bring in some decent coin.” John quaffed his ale. “Romney, mayhap she’ll have the debt paid off quickly and get that ring back after all.”

  “Not quick enough,” grumbled Muriel under her breath.

  Nicholas’s squire returned, followed by a servant carrying a big bag of un-spun wool. He put it down on the table they were using, and Nicholas held his hand out, motioning to the bag. “Go ahead,” he told her. “Start spinning.”

  She looked at him and rolled her eyes, still grumbling to herself as she stuck her hand inside the bag and pulled out some wool.

  “Anything for your amusement, my lord.”

  Muriel picked up her spindle, which was a tapered wooden shaft a little longer than the length of her hand. It narrowed at the top and had a whorl – weight on the bottom made from a stone with a hole in the middle. At the top was a metal hook. She had made this spindle with her father when she was young, and out of all of the spindles she worked with, this one was her favorite and the easiest to use.

  She picked up a handful of fleece and balanced it atop her left hand, taking her leader thread from her spindle, winding it around the hook quickly, and pulling the end of the yarn up into the fleece atop her hand. She held it together tightly.

  Then with her right hand she spun the spindle, holding it out from her body as the weight of it made tension on the yarn. As it spun, she reached upward and drew the wool out of the bunch of fleece resting atop her hand. She continued to spin and pull the wool, and the twisted yarn became longer and longer as the spindle dropped, almost touching the floor.

  “That is interesting,” said the baron with a nod of acceptance, holding out his tankard as a cupbearer filled it back up.

  “Fascinating,” said Lord John, taking a swig of his ale and leaning forward in his chair as well.

  “What do you do now that the yarn is getting so long it is almost touching the ground?” asked Lord Conlin.

  The three noblemen were like children, eager to learn a simple task. It almost made her laugh. They’d spent so much time fighting for the king, and taking little things like where their clothing came from for granted, that it amused her in return.

  “I wind it around the spindle,” she said, slipping the yarn from the hook and wrapping it around the spindle til the extra yarn was taken up. Once it was wound tightly, she wrapped the end around the hook again. She combined the end with the fleece resting atop her hand, and let the weight of the spindle create tension as she spun it again, and drew out more wool, turning it into a tightly spun yarn.

  “You are so fast,” said Lord Nicholas. She just smiled, priding herself on her excellent skill. She finished spinning the batch of fleece and placed the spindle gently on the table.

  “So, was it as amusing as you thought it would be?” she asked the men. They were all leaning forward, concentrating on what she was doing very intently. So much so, that if she were to shout out right now she was sure they would be so startled they would probably spill their tankards of ale and fall to the floor. How was it they knew so little about the craft?

  “Do you weave also?” asked Lord Conlin, placing his tankard down on the table with a thump.

  “I do, but my loom is back in town, and has been confiscated by the guild.”

  “Well, we won’t ask you to show us any weaving tonight,” said Nicholas standing to join her. “’Tis late and I’ll be leaving at first light.” He nodded toward his friends and started across the room, leaving her standing there with the other barons.

  “I wish you would stay longer, Romney,” said Lord John. “We’ve yet to have a game of cards or dice, nor have we sparred in the practice yard.”

  “I have things to attend to back home,” he said, then stopped and motioned for her to join him. “Muriel, it is time for bed.”

  Muriel’s heart about stopped. He’d called her by her name for the first time since she’d met him. She noticed that dangerous look in his eyes, and also the way he’d insinuated they would be sleeping together tonight. While she could think of nothing more than the kiss they’d shared, she didn’t want to give herself to this man in a form of payment for her father’s debts.

  “I will sleep in the great hall with the servants,” she said, hearing the guffaws of the other two barons from behind her.

  “You will sleep where I tell you to sleep, now grab your spindle and follow me.”

  She did as told, not wanting to anger the baron anymore than she already had. She followed him up the stairs to his chamber without saying another word. He opened the door allowing her to walk into the room first, probably only so she wouldn’t try to leave. He closed the door and turned toward her.

  “I don’t like the way you defy me in front of the other barons. I urge you not to do it again.”

  “I do not think I should have to sleep with you in payment for my father’s debts.”

  “And neither will you have to.” He removed his weaponbelt, then his surcoat, and his tunic followed. Her eyes focused on his sturdy chest and her mouth fell open.

  “Close your mouth,” he told her. “You act as if you’ve never seen a man’s chest before.”

  “Of course, I have,” she said, putting her things down on a nearby table. “Only, the men’s chests I’ve seen have looked . . . quite different than yours.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He bent over and removed his boots, and her eyes fastened to his back end. He obviously knew she was looking at him though his back was toward her. “Come here,” he said, standing up and reaching for the tie at his waist.

  “My lord?” she asked, wondering what he was asking.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She moved forward slowly, stopping right in front of him. He reached out and tilted her chin upward with one finger, and she felt a wisp of excitement rush through her. She wasn’t a virgin, but the one man she’d been with was not half as dashing as the baron. He had been a merchant’s son in town. She’d been curious of the act of being bedded and it had been his first time as well. So together they’d experimented in coupling with each other. But that was two years ago, and she hadn’t been with another man since.

  His eyes were fastened to her lips, and this exited her. Then he reached forward and pressed his lips upon hers. His hands slid down her shoulders and lingered at the sides of her breasts, and she didn’t stop him. Then she reached upward and put her hands on his shoulders as she returned the kiss as well.

  He tasted like ale and smoked meat, and his clothes smelled like the sea. She ran her hands through his thick, honey-colored hair, and kissed him deeper. When she’d kissed him on the ship, she’d done it to distract him and make him forget she owed him money. Now, she kissed him because she wanted to – not because she had to or because she was playing a game. She felt something awaken deep within her when he placed his lips against hers. The thought of a nobleman kissing her excited her in more ways than one.

  He took a hold of her hands and placed them against his bare chest. She felt power, and muscle beneath her palms. And when he guided her hands downwards, her fingertips grazed past his flat nipples and they instantly rose to little peaks. She heard him take a sharp, deep breath, and then to her dismay he pushed her away.

  “My lord?” she asked, not certain what she was to do next.

  “I just wanted to give you a taste of what you’ll be missing.” He reached down and started to removed his braies. She turned quickly and looked the other way. She felt so rejected right now.

  “Where will I be sleepin
g, my lord?” she boldly asked, not turning to look at him for fear she’d see more of his bare skin.

  “You will be sleeping on the pallet at the foot of my bed.” She first noticed the pallet he spoke of, and though it was no different than the one she slept on at her own home, it felt belittling since she would sleep at his feet like one of his hounds.

  “Aye, my lord,” she said instead of what she really wanted to tell him. Because if she angered him now – she might never taste his kiss upon her lips again. And somehow, that thought was more frightening than actually being ordered to warm his bed.

  Chapter Five

  It was late the next day by the time the ship docked at the New Romney port. Nicholas walked down the pier with his steward and squire at his side. Muriel followed behind him quietly.

  He hadn’t had a wink of sleep last night with her lying at the foot of his bed. He’d meant to teach her a lesson by kissing her and teasing her and leaving her wanting more. Instead, he’d only managed to get hot and bothered, and more than once that night he’d almost gotten off his bed and laid his hard body atop her and had his way with her to find his release.

  But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d just lain there frustrated as all hell, wishing he’d never kissed her in the first place. Now that he knew what he was missing out on, it only made him want her even more. He kept thinking of the magic she worked with her fingers, spinning the spindle in her hand as she showed him her skill. God’s eyes, he envied the damn thing right now, wishing it was his spindle she rolled in her apt fingers instead. Just thinking of it made him hard again, and he knew he would have to do something to get this desirable girl off his mind.

  “Muriel,” called a voice from the wharf, and he looked up to see the girl’s brother as well as another woman standing there waving at them.

  “Isaac,” she cried out and ran past Nicholas and threw herself into her brother’s arms. She kissed him on the cheek over and over, and once again that envy grew within his chest as he wanted the person she kissed to be him. What the hell was the matter with him to be feeling this way?

  “We were so worried about you when you disappeared yesterday, and wondered what became of you,” said the girl.

  “Cecily, what are you doing here?” Muriel asked her friend. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is for a woman to be on the docks?”

  “Hah!” Nicholas laughed aloud, thinking it amusing that she should be the one giving that advice. Well, he had all their attention now.

  “Muriel, are you . . . with them?” asked Cecily in a soft voice. Her brother glared at him and Nicholas suddenly felt very unwanted.

  “Cecily, this is Baron Romney,” she said in introduction.

  “You can all call me Lord Nicholas,” he replied, hoping to smooth over the thick air between them.

  “My lord,” said Cecily, bowing her head and curtseying. Muriel’s brother bowed to him as well.

  “Sir Stanwick,” Nicholas said to his steward. “Please give word to the Coast Waiter to supervise the unloading of my cargo, and have it shipped to the manner house anon.”

  “Aye, my lord,” said the steward and hurried away toward the ship.

  “Roger, why are you still standing here?” he asked his squire. “Find the stableboy and return quickly with my horse. Or did you expect me to walk back to the manor?”

  “Sorry, my lord,” said his squire, glancing back over his shoulder at the little entourage as he hurried away to do as ordered.

  “Muriel, where were you?” asked Isaac.

  “I was trapped on the baron’s ship and ended up in Hastings,” she explained.

  “Trapped?” asked Nicholas. “How about telling them the truth? In an attempt to avoid me, you wandered onto my ship and ended up as a stowaway.”

  “You did?” Cecily’s eyes grew wide with amazement.

  “It’s not important,” said Muriel with a dismissive wave of her hand as if she really believed it to be a trivial issue. This girl had no fear of her superiors and while that infuriated him, it intrigued him at the same time. “What is important is if your stepfather hired Isaac as his journeyman or not. Did he?” she asked with hope in her voice.

  By the way the other two looked at each other, Nicholas knew that he hadn’t.

  “Isaac?” asked Muriel.

  Isaac just looked downward and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, Muriel,” said Cecily. “My stepfather wanted to, really he did. But the guild wouldn’t let him. They are still very angry over what happened with your father.”

  “My father is dead! Can’t they just let things go? They already took most our belongings. Didn’t that make them happy? By the rood, why don’t they understand we had nothing to do with our father’s actions and decisions?”

  Neither of them answered. They just looked at the ground, and Nicholas knew it was because he was standing there and they felt insecure talking about it.

  “Well, at least we still have the land and will have income from the shepherds who use it.” Muriel was obviously trying to stay positive for her younger brother’s sake.

  “Muriel,” said her brother in a small voice. “The shepherds have taken their sheep to other fields to graze, and are gone as well.”

  “What? Why?” Her eyes darted over to the marshland off in the distance, that was clearly visible from the docks. Nicholas glanced over there as well to see that what the boy said was true.

  “The guild convinced them to go to other fields, and even gave them a better deal than they were getting from you,” added Cecily.

  “Nay!” Her voice quavered and Nicholas almost wondered if she were going to cry. Damn, he hoped not. That was his weakness. He couldn’t deny a crying woman, no matter how hard he tried. “We will have no income at all now,” she retorted.

  Nicholas cleared his throat, subtly reminding them that he was still standing there. “Isaac,” he said. “You and your sister are welcome to live at my manor house, and work for me until your sister has paid off the debt.”

  “I have paid it off,” she spat, obviously still angry about the sheep. “Or did you forget about the ring you snatched from my finger?”

  “Mother’s ring?” asked Isaac, sounding horrified.

  “Yes,” she answered. “The baron demanded it from me.”

  He heard Cecily gasp. He had no doubt in his mind now how rumors got started from wagging tongues. The way she relayed the story was not how he remembered it at all.

  “I am only holding onto it until you manage to pay off the debt, if I must remind you. After that, the ring will belong to you again. Come along then, and we’ll get settled into the manor.”

  “I haven’t agreed to your offer yet, if I must remind you,” she said, raising her chin in defiance.

  “Well, I suggest you decide quickly. After all, as I told you – I only make an offer once.”

  “I need time to talk to my brother and decide.”

  “Go ahead.” He held out his hand, expecting her to do it, but of course the girl didn’t do anything expected of her. He was starting to realize this quickly.

  “I’ll need time to decide.” Her eyes darted back to her brother. “I’ll consider your offer and let you know.”

  “I don’t like to be told what to do,” he growled.

  “Then what do you suggest, my lord?”

  He thought for a moment before he answered. If he was too harsh, he’d end up scaring her away, and he didn’t really want that. “You have two days to decide,” he told her. “On the third day I will come to your door and you will give me your answer. And if you decide not to take my – very generous offer – you will not only never see your ring again, but you will need to make your rent payments on time. If you miss one payment – I will take my marshlands back, and rent them to another merchant and you will never do business with me again.”

  She clenched her jaw tightly, and looked over to her brother and friend. They were both just staring at her with their eyes wide, waiting for her an
swer.

  “Fine. Then that is what we will do.”

  “I have your horse, my lord.” The squire appeared with the reins of his horse in hand. As Nicholas turned and mounted, he heard Cecily whispering to Muriel.

  “Oh, Muriel you are so lucky. The baron is very handsome You should take his offer.”

  He smiled, but did not let on that he had heard them.

  “Lucky? I’m not so sure,” she whispered back to her friend. Once again, Muriel was probably going to spin more than wool. She might be a proficient spinster, but he had the feeling she could spin a story better than even his bards.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Cecily. “Don’t you think he likes you?”

  “Wants me is more like it,” she answered smugly. “But when he tried to bed me, I turned him down cold.”

  Nicholas gripped the reins tightly at hearing this, causing his horse to turn a full circle. He almost said something to her, but the only reason he didn’t was because of her next words.

  “Turned him down cold I did, because I have no interest in him whatsoever. But next time I might just tease him a little and lead him on, to let him know what he’ll be missing out on.”

  Tease him, indeed, he thought to himself. If that’s the way she wanted to play the game, then next time he might not put himself through the misery of lying there aching for a girl who supposedly didn’t want him in return.

  Chapter Six

  Nicholas stood on the wharf two days later, accompanied by Richard, his Surveyor of Customs, and Paul, his Land Surveyor. The Surveyor of Customs’ job was to watch over the Collector and Controller of Customs who collected the taxes due from imports and exports. The Land Surveyor kept an eye on the Coast Waiter who supervised the unloading of cargo from home ports, as well as the Land Waiter who watched over the loading and unloading of goods from foreign ports.

  He studied the parchment with the tallies from his Searcher listing the cargo that had come in on ships and should be taxed. Then he looked at the tallies from his Collector of Customs. He did the numbers quickly in his head, and he could see that something didn’t add up.