Seeking The Truth - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 11)

by Shea,Lisa

  Mike’s leathery face creased into a grin. “Not at all,” he agreed. “She thought herself far above the rest of us, with her airs and looks. She certainly seemed friendly with every traveler who stayed in that place. Looking to trade up, or so the townsfolk thought. It was no surprise that she lit out as soon as she could.”

  Morgan took a sip. “Was the innkeeper an old man, then?”

  Rip shook his head. “No, he was my age.” His eyes shadowed. “He was a friend of ours. A good man, handsome, kind, the wealthiest in our village, although I admit that is not saying much. Cassandra had been chasing him for some time. When the soldiers arrived she dropped Joseph in a heartbeat, but after they left she went right back to him, rushed him into a quick marriage. Then they had Daniel.”

  Mike shook his head. “If only she had been a good wife to him, a good mother to her son,” he groused. “Instead she rubbed it in Joseph’s face that he was not fine enough for her; practically offered herself to every man who came through their doors.” He took a long pull on his mead, draining the mug. “I was not surprised when they found him at the bottom of those stairs.”

  Morgan made a swirl of her hand, and another round of drinks was poured. “So you think he threw himself down them?” she asked in sympathy, her voice quiet.

  Mike shrugged, but Rip leant past him, his dark hair falling over his eyes. “I do not think that,” he bit out in a low tone, his words slurring slightly. “He had a small injury to his neck, as if he had been stabbed by something. I think she did something to him – poisoned him, perhaps, then gave him a push. She had realized that she was never going to meet a visitor to the inn who would rescue her. She had to take matters into her own hands.” He took another drink. “Once Joseph was dead, she promptly sold all of the inn’s belongings, collected her money, and headed out.”

  “Was there no inquest?” asked Morgan, her eyes looking with concern into his.

  Rip shook his head angrily. “People just wanted her out of town. My friend lay there dead, and they wanted to get rid of her by any means possible, even if it meant she walked over Joseph’s corpse to get there.”

  “He did have a son to survive him, though,” commented Morgan in a hopeful tone. “That is something, at least.”

  Mike barked out a laugh. “His son? That poor man had been kept on tenterhooks the entire time she played with him. She refused to let him touch her until he finally gave in to the marriage. The son was born a short six months later.” He shook his head, scoffing. “The child was not Joseph’s. Town talk is that it was the bastard of one of those soldiers she was chasing.”

  Morgan fought off a tense pulse which lanced through her shoulders. She suddenly remembered with sharp awareness that Sean was in the room, was sitting only a few feet away, listening to talk of the soldiers and their bastard child. In the state of mind he was in, she had no idea how he was reacting to this conversation. She did not want to risk turning away to look.

  She focused on the men before her. “Where were her parents in all of this?”

  The barkeep poured out another round without being asked. His face was now red and heavy. “Jack’s wife had died in childbirth; he raised Cassandra on his own, as best he could,” he commented quietly. “Jack was a dear friend of mine; a good man, a decent man. Cassandra always ran wild, and Jack did his best to encourage her to spend time with Joseph. He spent hours soothing Joseph over her egregious behavior. He thought Joseph would settle her down.”

  He took a long pull on his mead. “When Cassandra abruptly dropped Joseph in anticipation of the soldiers coming to town, Jack was furious. He absolutely forbid her to have anything to do with the soldiers. He was prepared to lock her in her room for their stay.”

  Morgan found she was holding her breath, and let it out slowly. “It seems he changed his mind, if Mike here feels one of the soldiers fathered her child. That is quite a difference in attitude, to go from no contact at all to intimate time together.”

  Thomas pursed his lips, turning his mug around in his hands, staring into the liquid.

  Morgan watched him for a long moment, her eyes sharpening. She had to get through that resistance. She leant forward, drawing in the other men. “I will tell you a secret,” she whispered. “I have heard of this Cassandra. After she left town, she pursued one of the three soldiers she had been courting as a teen. She took all of his money and drove him to suicide. She then tracked down the second soldier and hounded him into such debt that a loan shark killed him.”

  Thomas’ eyes were sharp on her, realization hitting him. His gaze became weary with regret. “She told those men that they were the father of her son?”

  Morgan nodded. “They took her in, sheltered her, and cared for her. They felt guilty for not having known of her state, of having abandoned her to care for their child alone.”

  Thomas gave a low growl, downing his mead in a long pull, sloppily refilling the four mugs with a sweep. “They did not abandon her,” he snarled, taking another drink. “That woman was born with a tainted heart, and even her own father paid the price.”

  Morgan leant forward even further, and the men beside her did the same. “What did she do to him?” asked Morgan in a hush.

  Thomas looked into his mead for a long time. “Jack told no one else,” he admitted at last. “He came in here one night, asked for drink after drink. Finally I got him to confess to me what was wrong.” He took a pull on his mead. “Cassandra had seduced him.”

  Morgan’s throat went dry. “Her own father?” she whispered. The men beside her looked at each other in disbelief.

  Thomas nodded. “The night before, she had stolen a large jug of mead from my storeroom, had fed it to her father all night long. When he was barely conscious, she took advantage of him. He awoke the next morning to Cassandra standing over him with a proud look on her face. She said that, after what he had done, he had no right to act as her father any more, to have any say over her life. She was going to spend all day and all night with the soldiers, if that was her wish. Then she strutted out of the house.”

  “That must have destroyed him,” offered Morgan simply.

  Thomas nodded. “He had betrayed the most important rule of parenting; he had taken advantage of his own child. He did everything she asked after that, out of shame, out of guilt. He spent all of his money buying her dresses, jewelry, whatever she wanted. By the time the soldiers had left town, he was a broken man. He died shortly after that, a husk of his former self.”

  He shook his head, looking down. “Daniel was born eight months after the soldiers had been here, and the townsfolk assumed they were at fault. I knew the truth, though. It was nine months to the day from when Jack came into my bar, when he poured his heart out to me.”

  Morgan put her hand over Thomas’s, her heart heavy. “I am so sorry.”

  Thomas gave himself a shake, then looked up with worn eyes. “That was thirteen years ago,” he offered somberly. “Still, it feels like yesterday. Jack was a good man. He deserved better than that.”

  There was a movement behind her, and Morgan turned to find Sean had come up to join the group, his eyes serious. The men looked at him askance, eyeing him warily. Morgan handed up her drink to him, and he took it down with one pull.

  Sean’s lips were a thin line. “I am the third soldier,” he stated without inflection. “Cassandra has arranged to re-marry me this coming Monday. She claims that we had married when I was out here, back in 1200, and she has a contract to prove it. She says Daniel is my son.”

  Rip and Mike slid down a stool instantly, and Thomas put out another mug for Sean, filling it with a quick movement.

  Rip looked over with hooded eyes. “No wonder you are in a bad temper,” he muttered. “That witch has her claws in you now?”

  Sean nodded quietly. “We have Father Bonner signing a statement proving that my ‘marriage’ – and those of my two fellow soldiers – were complete fabrications of Cassandra’s imagination. I will be presenting this all
at our wedding ceremony, to publicly expose Cassandra’s years of lies.”

  Mike brushed the red hair from his face, his eyes lighting up through the drunken haze. “Can we come, and tell what we know of Joseph?”

  Sean raised his mug to them in a toast. “I would be quite happy if you would speak at my wedding,” he stated wryly.

  Thomas looked up, a light beginning to glow on his face. “I would like to be there as well,” he commented. “To have closure after all these long years – I had not thought it possible.”

  “You are all welcome to be my guests,” offered Sean. “It would be my pleasure to put you up in my home there. I think you will find our local mead, while not quite up to your exceptional standards, comes rather close.”

  Thomas’s shoulders relaxed. “I would enjoy trying that,” he mused. “I am always interested in sampling other styles.” He glanced out the window at the darkening sky. “You say your wedding is on Monday – how far is it?”

  Sean glanced out as well, then tossed back his drink and nodded. “It is a full day’s ride plus a few hours – and I must be back by tomorrow evening. I am afraid we need to head out.” He offered a hand to Morgan, helping her to her feet.

  Thomas looked between Sean and Morgan, a smile slowly growing on his face. “The lady is not your sister, is she,” he commented with a low chuckle.

  Morgan looked down, blushing. “I am afraid I am not.”

  Thomas raised his mug to Sean in a toast. “You are one lucky man.”

  Morgan smiled, then began counting out the coins for the drinks. Thomas put his hand over hers. “It is my treat,” he offered. “There are few enough who appreciate my mead, and the closure you offer is worth all the mead you want.”

  Morgan shook her head, pushing the coins toward him. “Take it as a donation to Joseph’s memory, and to Jack’s. Build a new shrine, if you wish, or fix up the inn so that you might have more buyers for your fish. Take it with our compliments.”

  Thomas hesitated a moment, then nodded and swept up the coins. “We will see you in two days,” he promised, Rip and Mike nodding their heads in unison.

  Sean offered his hand to each man, then together he and Morgan turned and headed out to the church to retrieve the letter.

  *

  They rode for several hours in silence, alternating between walking and cantering, the darkening fingers of dusk sliding across the sky in a slow, steady march. Morgan let the quiet grow, gave Sean the space to think, to speak at his own pace. There had been a wealth of information discussed in that quiet tavern, and she wondered just what he was ruminating about.

  When his voice finally came, it was tinged with embarrassment. “I handled myself badly back there,” he admitted. “Thank you for all you did. Without your help, we would not have known any of that information.”

  “I would do anything to help you,” responded Morgan quietly. She grinned wryly. “Drinking fine mead in a bar was not the ultimate in sacrifices.”

  “You know what I mean,” he ground out, turning to look at her, and she nodded, her own face growing serious.

  “Yes, I do, and I apologize. I am glad that they knew what information we sought.”

  “We will expose her,” vowed Sean, his face tight. “We have all the evidence, we have several witnesses who will speak up against her.”

  “Now we just have to make sure she shows up on Monday evening – that she does not get spooked by something and fly the coop,” mused Morgan. “We should make sure we come back into town separately, that there is not even the hint of a question about where you have been.”

  “If we push hard, we should make it as far as Hadfoldshem tonight,” Sean stated, considering the options. “The roads from there are well populated and safe. We can leave separately from that point, you to return to your home, me to head back to the keep. That way there is no question of anyone seeing us together.” He glanced over at Morgan, his eyes sharpening with concern. “Although with what happened with Coll, I am hesitant to leave you even on that well-travelled stretch of road alone.”

  “There is no reason for Coll to be out here,” pointed out Morgan. “He is busy with Cassandra, no doubt. The most important thing is to keep everything as quiet as possible. The wheels are in motions. Once Cassandra is at that altar with you, there will be no escape for her.”

  Sean gave a low chuckle, turning to look ahead. His look grew distant. After a few minutes he commented softly, “For so many years, this was a dream of mine. To stand at the altar, Cassandra at my side. It was all I ever hoped for.”

  “Well then,” smiled Morgan with a wicked grin, “Let us get you there on time!” She prodded her horse into a canter, and in moments they were flying along the road, the fishing village fading into a distant memory.

  *

  It was long past dusk as the pair dismounted in the run-down stables, wiping down their horses with practiced ease. Morgan looked around at the decrepit state of the barn, the rickety shape of many of the other horses housed within. “You are sure they are safe here?” she asked. “Something will not collapse down onto their heads in the middle of the night?”

  Sean chuckled softly. “I am sure you have been in far worse,” he pointed out with a grin. “We do not want to be spotted, after all. I doubt any person we know – or would want to know – is to be found within these walls. Just stay close to me.”

  “Is that an order?” murmured Morgan, her eyes glowing, turning to stand before Sean in the torch-lit shadows of the stables. She took another step forward, nearly touching him, her smile growing more deep. “Is this close enough?” she asked in a low voice, reaching out one hand to slowly trace it up his hip.

  He gave a low groan, stepping back slightly. “Let us get a quick dinner and get up to our rooms,” he chuckled, emphasizing the last word with a wink. “Then we will see how close we can get.”

  Morgan pulled her cloak around her, and Sean did the same. Morgan took a deep breath, willing herself to be quiet, anonymous, and walked across the small courtyard to the tavern. The noise rang out through its walls, and spilled out at a higher volume when Sean pulled open the door. The large room was thronging with people, and they pushed their way through to a quiet table in the back shadows. In short order a pair of ales and two bowls of stew were laid out before them.

  “A pair of rooms as well,” asked Sean in a low voice, and the barkeep nodded without interest, returning in a moment to drop off two keys.

  “Last rooms on the right,” he told them in a creaky voice before moving on to handle another table.

  Morgan ate quickly, voraciously hungry after the long day, the stifling heat of the room beating in on her. Her cloak was heavy, and she longed to throw it off, but she focused on getting through the meal. Once they were up in her room, she doubted her cloak would be an issue any more.

  She finished in record time, downing the last of her ale. She looked up to see Sean smiling over at her, his eyes bright with desire. He gathered up the bowls and mugs. “I will get us settled up,” he commented with a lingering smile, rising to head over to the bar.

  Morgan’s face flushed with the throng of people pressing in at all sides. She stood, stretching, glancing around her. Nobody appeared to be paying the least attention to her at all. She undid the clasp at her throat, sliding off her cloak, taking in a deep sigh of relief as the relative coolness hit her. She might just make it to her room after all.

  “I thought that was you,” growled a low voice, and she looked up in surprise. The man before her was over six feet tall, burly in build. His shaggy black hair fell to his shoulders, and his bushy beard matched. She knew him from somewhere.

  His gaze held hers, his sharp eyes shining with pleasure. “Morgan.” He took a step forward. She resisted the urge to retreat back, instead standing her ground, glaring up at him.

  A grin grew on his face. “Edward is not here to defend you now,” he observed. “Now you are all mine.”

  Recognition hit Morgan in
a flash. He had been at the gambling den, that night, had been warned off by Edward. “You might recall that evening ended badly for Edward,” she commented wryly, dropping her hand to her dagger. “There might be a lesson in that for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I never was too fond of schoolin’,” he chuckled, drawing his eyes in a leer down her body. “I am, however, quite interested in what you have there beneath your dress.”

  The voice from behind her was low, cool, and redolent with palpable threat. “Joel.”

  She flushed. So much for them keeping a low profile.

  Joel glanced behind her, stiffened, then his shoulders fell in resignation. He sullenly turned to stalk out of the bar. She waited for the door to close behind him before spinning to scold Sean for interfering.

  Her mouth hung open in surprise. It was not Sean standing there, looking down at her with a leer. It was Coll. He sat down in the seat Sean had just vacated, and Morgan found herself sitting as well, her spine stiff, wondering just how much Coll had seen. Could they find a way to waylay him, to prevent him from returning to spread the alarm to Cassandra?

  “Two meads,” ordered Coll with casual calm as the barkeep swung by. The barkeep looked at Morgan, glanced at the new man across from her, and shrugged. In a moment they had their drinks before them.

  Morgan took a look at the mead, then picked it up and downed it in one shot. Coll chuckled, toasted her and then drank his down as well.

  “I forget, sometimes, just what a woman you are,” he commented, running his eyes lingeringly down her outfit. “I never would have expected to find you in a place like this.”

  “Yeah, well, my fortunes have changed,” snapped Morgan, her eyes watching his warily. “I have been kicked out of the keep, my parents were not keen on having me there, and now I am on the road.”

  “Yes, you are,” he agreed with a wolfish grin, nodding, “and you travel alone, too. Very daring. Where are you headed?”

  A hesitant ember of hope kindled within her. He had said ‘alone’. He had not seen Sean. She could still play this out well. She pitched her tone to hold petulant frustration. “I am moving toward Reigate. I am hoping I might find some work there.”