by Alexa Aston
“I remained hidden for a while but I regretted leaving my mother. I moved along the tunnel until I found a way to exit. But I was too late.”
“You found your mother?”
“I heard her talking to the serfs who had stormed the keep.”
His heart ached at the wistful smile that crossed her face.
“She stood up to them. Told them that neither she nor I had ever done anything wrong or mistreated any of them.” Lady Margery paused. “They killed her anyway.”
Her bitter tone let Ancel know she had heard her mother’s death and had been helpless to prevent it.
“I remained secreted in the hidden passageway until I thought it safe to flee Highfield. I didn’t know if the rebels had taken control of the estate and I couldn’t chance them finding me there. I decided to make my way toward Billericay—even London—and hoped that I would pass a convent that might offer me shelter until this madness ended.”
Ancel took her hands in his. “You are safe with me, Lady Margery. I will speak to the king and personally escort you back to your home. I am sure since your estate is nearby, he will want it secured. I will ask that I be allowed to remain in order to help restore order to Highfield.”
A hopeful look crossed her face. “You would do me such a kindness? Oh, thank you, my lord. I have been so frightened. And I’ve worried about Sarah, my servant. Though I tried to convince her to come with me, she refused. She is my friend, my lord. I want to see that she is all right. I know she had nothing to do with the serfs who stormed Highfield and ransacked it, though I realize some of our tenants and servants may have also joined in.”
“Then I hope we will find Sarah alive and well when we reach your home.” He released her hands and suddenly felt bereft at the loss of contact between them. Instead, he offered her his hand. “Come, my lady, and we shall ride back to the king.”
Lady Margery placed her hand in his and he led her back to Storm, who stood patiently waiting. Ancel placed the noblewoman atop his horse and climbed behind her. His arms went around her as he took up the reins. She leaned back into him, and it gave him a warm feeling to have her close.
Turning to look over her shoulder, she asked, “What is your name, my lord? You never shared it with me.”
“I am Sir Ancel de Montfort, son of Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn de Montfort of Kinwick, and a member of the king’s royal guard.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Sir Ancel.”
“I feel the same, Lady Margery.”
With that, he spurred Storm on and they rode away from the field of blood and toward the king and his men. Ancel got as close as he could to the group surrounding Richard and jumped down, then lifted Lady Margery to the ground.
“Come with me, my lady.” Ancel didn’t think it safe to leave her next to the horse with so many men milling around. He offered her his arm and she slipped her hand through the crook.
He caught sight of Will and motioned the squire over. “Watch Storm,” he ordered and saw the boy scramble over to the warhorse.
Ancel wove his way through the crowd, ignoring the odd looks tossed his way. He spotted the king and moved in the monarch’s direction but found himself slowed by the noblewoman on his arm. He looked down at her and frowned.
She look terrified—even more so than when he’d snatched her from the battlefield.
“Do not worry, my lady.”
“But ‘tis the king!” she exclaimed. “And I’m sure I look a fright.”
Ancel grinned. True, she had a smudge of dirt on one cheek and looked a little disheveled but her incandescent beauty was shining through.
“All will be well,” he reassured her and tugged her the rest of the way.
“Your majesty,” he called out.
Richard turned and his face lit up as Ancel bowed. “Sir Ancel! I am relieved to see you made it through the skirmish without a scratch.” He glanced to Margery and smiled. “And who might this be?”
“Meet Lady Margery Ormond, sire.”
She removed her hand from his arm and gave a deep curtsey. “You majesty,” she murmured and then stepped back a few paces.
“No, come closer,” the king admonished. “Leave it to Sir Ancel to find a pretty maiden in the midst of battle.”
“May we speak in private, your highness?” Ancel asked.
Richard nodded and moved away from the ring of guardsmen and royal advisers that surrounded him. Ancel and Margery followed closely behind him.
Quickly, Ancel explained what had happened at Highfield and how Lady Margery had fled, disguised as a peasant, thanks to the quick thinking of a trusted servant.
“With her stepfather murdered by the local peasants and Highfield being as close as it is to London, I thought it best that we secure the estate. Lady Margery has two stepbrothers and we can look for them, as well. Hopefully, they survived the attack,” Ancel said, though he doubted it. By the look on Richard’s boyish face, Ancel believed the king agreed with him.
“Would it please your majesty if I took twenty men with me as I escort Lady Margery back to Highfield? I can see to bolstering the defenses and burying the dead. Since it’s also harvest time, I can direct that, as well. I’m hopeful there will be serfs remaining who took no part in this insurrection and will help return Highfield to a working estate.” He paused. “If it pleases you, sire, we could even use the place as a central location to station troops. From Highfield, they could ride out to various parts of Essex and Kent and shore up various manors and castles as needed.”
The king pondered his request briefly. “Though I prefer you by my side, ‘tis important that Essex, in particular, is stabilized. Using Highfield as a base is something I will take under advisement.” He placed a hand on Ancel’s shoulder. “You may have the score of men you asked for and another ten, as well, Sir Ancel. Return Lady Margery to her home and make sure the place is one friendly to the Crown. Find her stepbrothers if you can and restore them to their places of honor.”
“And if they cannot be found or are dead?” Ancel asked.
“Then I must consider naming a new baron and award the land to him.” The king paused. “Mayhap you would be interested, Sir Ancel.”
The king’s words shocked him. Ancel knew one day that Kinwick would come to him once his father passed. He hoped that day was long in the future. But to be able to have his own land and title at such a young age? The prospect was tempting.
“Lady Margery?” the king asked, eyeing her with interest.
“Your majesty?”
“Are you betrothed?”
She blushed profusely. “Nay, my lord. My stepfather said he had no interest in seeing me wed since I was not a blood relative. My mother had been ill for some time and Lord Umfrey thought it best that I remain at Highfield in order to run domestic affairs there.”
The king frowned. “Hmm.” Then he brightened. “If your stepbrothers cannot be found, then mayhap I will let you remain at Highfield.
“As Sir Ancel’s bride.”
Chapter 6
Margery’s years living under the heavy hand of Lord Umfrey helped her remain silent at the king’s bold statement. Other women might have sputtered. Or argued. Or swooned. Margery stood stoically and inclined her head to the young monarch. When she lifted it, her features stayed placid, helping her keep her thoughts to herself.
It surprised her to see how youthful England’s king truly was, knowing she was older than the monarch by seven years. Yet Richard possessed a confidence Margery found sorely lacking in her own character. She had learned not to complain about anything. Lord Umfrey would never have tolerated it if she did. Moreover, she had learned to adapt to any situation around her. Fighting back was unacceptable. Disagreeing with any of the Vivers men would result in harsh punishment. If Lord Umfrey had taught Margery anything since she came to Highfield, it was to endure no matter what happened around you.
But a frisson of excitement rippled thro
ugh her at the thought of wedding the handsome knight standing next to her. At least she thought he might be handsome. She’d only seen a small part of his face, thanks to the helm he wore. Vibrant hazel eyes had stared back at her, then reassured her of her safety once he’d lifted his visor. A kind smile had warmed her insides as he spoke to her, reassuring her in the midst of chaos. Glancing at the tall, broad frame encased in armor, she guessed he was over six feet in height. But he still remained somewhat of a mystery.
Would it possible to find herself wed to such a bold knight?
Margery had long ago given up on the idea of marriage so the idea of escaping Highfield through marriage had never occurred to her. Where once she’d had dreams of sharing her life with a husband and bearing his children, gradually they had been replaced by reality. Watching the erosion of the relationship between her mother and stepfather only reinforced that marriage wasn’t something she would wish to be a part of, even if given the choice.
But now? Only time would tell.
As the king strode away from them, he called over his shoulder, “Choose the men you wish to take with you, Sir Ancel, and keep me informed of the situation.”
Margery wondered at the relationship between the monarch and this courageous knight who had rescued her. She thought kings only listened to their advisers and royal councils, not a mere knight who was a member of his guard. Yet even through her inexperience, she could tell there was great trust between the two men.
“My lady?”
Margery turned, sensing her cheeks now burned in embarrassment. What if Sir Ancel had a sweetheart somewhere? What if he never intended to marry? The king had practically told the knight he would need to wed her if her stepbrothers had been killed in the rebellion. Of course, the king dangled ownership of Highfield and Lord Umfrey’s title, as well. Though Sir Ancel had yet to see the estate and castle, he would naturally be tempted, as would any man, to possess his own land and the title that accompanied it.
“Aye, my lord?”
“I want you to stay here. I will send William Artus, a squire, to watch over you. It may be a few hours before we depart from Norsey Wood.”
She glanced around. “But isn’t the battle over?”
He nodded grimly. “Aye. But we will need to deal with gathering up the horses taken by the peasants and burying the dead.”
“Oh.” It made her think of all the bodies at Highfield. Guilt permeated through her that she had survived when others had perished.
“I will walk the field and choose the men to accompany us to Highfield, as well. How far is it from here?”
“I don’t know, my lord. I had never left the grounds since I arrived there when I was five. I departed as the sun rose this morning and walked a good while but I cannot tell you the exact distance.” She offered him an apologetic smile. “But I will be able to show you where the estate is located as we return.”
The knight nodded curtly. “If you will excuse me.”
Margery watched him leave, surprised to find herself wanting to trail after him. She looked around at all of the activity that went on around her. Even though she was surrounded by hundreds—no, thousands—of men, she felt very much alone all of a sudden.
Sir Ancel stopped and spoke to the same young man that he’d given his horse to. Pointing in her direction, she gave a friendly wave. The squire nodded and marched in her direction, leading the warhorse.
“Greetings, Lady Margery. I am William Artus but you may call me Will. Everyone does.” He gave her a shy smile.
“Good day to you, Will.”
“Sir Ancel said that you might be hungry.”
She smiled at him. “I am famished,” she confided. “I haven’t eaten in some time.”
“Then my first task is to find some food for you.” He glanced around. “Would you be able to hold Storm’s reins? Sir Ancel loves his horse more than most and charged me to watch over him. But it would be faster if I could leave Storm here and bring something back to you.”
Though Margery had never been around horses and the thought of keeping the horse’s reins should frighten her, she agreed.
“I’ll be back soon, my lady. Speak to no one,” he warned. “And keep your distance from Storm. He’s most unfriendly to everyone but his master.” Will handed her the reins and hurried off.
She held the reins loosely since the horse didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. Men rushed by her. A few gave her a passing glance but most ignored her and focused on whatever task was at hand. After a few minutes, Margery decided to draw closer to the large horse in order to make friends with him. Though he was an imposing height, the animal didn’t seem to be hostile as Will Artus had suggested.
Approaching him carefully, she said in a quiet tone, “Hello, Storm. I must thank you for your part in rescuing me from the danger I was in.” Tentatively, she held out a hand and stroked the animal’s nose, which felt like velvet. He seemed to like it, so she stretched to scratch him between the ears. The horse closed his eyes. If she believed a horse could smile, then Storm did so now. Margery began rubbing under his chin and down his neck. He quietly chuffed. She giggled, happy that he seemed so accepting of her.
“My lady!”
She turned and saw Will hurrying toward her, a crock in each hand and half a loaf of bread tucked under his arm.
“What are you doing?” the squire demanded.
Margery frowned. “Looking after Storm, as you asked.”
“Drop the reins,” the young man ordered.
Margery did as he asked and he shoved the crocks into her hands. The scent of stew wafted up, causing her stomach to gurgle noisily. Will reclaimed the reins from the ground and even nudged her back from the horse.
“Storm is not a friendly beast,” Will scolded. “I warned you to stay back.”
She looked at the warhorse. “Well, he does look fierce,” she agreed. “I am sure all horses that go into battle do. But he’s been gentle as a lamb with me. I believe he enjoyed the attention I gave him.”
Will snorted. “No one would ever call Storm gentle. Only Sir Ancel can ride him and care for him. Storm merely tolerates me at best. I’m surprised he didn’t bite off your fingers.”
Margery laughed. “I think you are teasing me, Will Artus.”
She gave him one of the bowls and lifted the other to her lips. Will tore some of the bread off and offered it to her. Soon, Margery had downed all of her stew and wiped the crock clean using the bread. Rarely had a meal tasted so good.
She wondered if it was freedom she tasted—and not only stew.
*
Ancel scoured the battlefield for the men he wanted to bring with him to Highfield. He wouldn’t take any of the knights from the royal guard. In these uncertain times, King Richard needed to take special precautions. Ancel had promised the old king that he would look after the monarch’s grandson. By not poaching any of the men who surrounded the king, men who would give their lives for him, Ancel would make good on that promise to King Edward.
Still, many others that he knew would be assets at Highfield.
He spoke to half a dozen trustworthy soldiers, then a dozen, then had up to twenty who would accompany him. It still wasn’t enough.
Then he thought to speak with Buckingham.
Ancel found the commander closeted in his tent, Sir Thomas Percy at his side.
“Forgive me for the interruption, my lords,” he said, “but I have need of a few good men—and you can help me in this quest.”
Briefly, he explained Highfield’s close proximity to London and how the king wanted it secured before he related his idea about making it a prime location to station troops that could be sent out through Essex.
“And Kent, if needed,” Percy added, “though it seems as if the grumblings there have calmed. You say you need ten more men?”
“Aye, my lord. The king agreed to a total of thirty to get the castle grounds and its defenses back into shape.”
“You may have ten of my
men,” Percy said.
“And I’ll guarantee you ten of mine,” Buckingham volunteered. “That way the place can be secured quickly and the crops seen to in a timely fashion. I will share with the king that using Highfield is a good idea to secure Essex. Any news of Lord Umfrey?”
“He was killed in the rebellion,” Ancel said, not relating the torture the nobleman suffered.
“What of his sons? He had two. Or mayhap three,” Percy said.
“Lord Umfrey’s stepdaughter said there are two. Both are missing at the moment.”
“And this noblewoman escaped the wrath of the peasants?” Percy asked. “By the Christ, she must be a most capable lady to have done so.”
“Lady Margery looks like a fragile thing that might blow away if a strong wind arose,” Ancel said. “But to show the fortitude and inner strength she did has certainly earned my good opinion of her.”
“Come,” Buckingham said. “I’ll pull together my men and Percy can do the same so you can be on your way.”
“Thank you again, my lords.”
Within minutes, Ancel had a crew of two score surrounding him.
“Thank you for accepting this task,” he told the group. “Highfield lies between Billericay and London. The king values its proximity and wants the estate back in noble hands. We’ll need to repair any damage caused by the peasants who revolted there in order to secure the land and schedule a guard to patrol the wall walk, the estate, and the nearby roads. Besides keeping up your training and being ready to defend the property, some manual labor will be required.”
“Such as what, Sir Ancel?” a soldier from the group asked.
“The dead will need to be buried. Some crops may need to be harvested until I can ascertain workers for the fields. You may be asked to ride out into Essex to curb any other signs of rebellion. If you agree, we need to leave soon.”