by Anne Herries
Running up the curving stone stair to her chamber at the top of the tower, he knocked. After a moment the door was opened and Maire looked at him from suspicious eyes.
‘I would speak with your mistress.’
‘My lady is not here.’
‘Pray tell me where I may find her. Is she in the kitchen or the stillroom?’ he asked.
‘I do not know. She wished to speak with you,’ the woman said.
‘Then I must look for her.’ Raphael turned away, then a fresh voice called to him.
‘My lord…’ He swung round and saw one of the village women. ‘I know where my lady has gone.’
His gaze narrowed. ‘You are?’
‘Lilia, my lord.’ She bobbed a curtsey. ‘My lady asked me to give her my cloak when we were in the courtyard. She, Beth and my mother have gone to the woods to gather herbs and berries.’
‘Gone to the woods?’
Raphael swore beneath his breath. Had the foolish woman no idea what danger she might be in with hostile knights in the vicinity? Baron Sigmund might have pledged his friendship, and within his walls she was safe enough, but a woman wandering alone without an escort was fair prey for a man such as the baron.
‘How long since they left?’ he barked, but did not wait for her answer. It was only a short time since the baron had asked about her. She must have seen that Raphael was busy with their visitor and taken advantage to slip away wearing a serving woman’s cloak.
She had deliberately set out to deceive him! Raphael felt a surge of fury. How dare she disobey him when he had warned her it was not safe to leave the castle without him or his men?
He ran down the stairs and out into the courtyard, yelling loudly for his horse and for an escort. She could not have gone far, but Baron Sigmund and his men might have passed her as they left. She and her women might be in mortal danger—might even have been abducted.
As the men mounted up and followed him across the drawbridge, Raphael’s heart was racing. Had she meant to go foraging or was she trying to run away from him? If anything happened to her he would never forgive himself.
* * *
The women found a patch of edible fungi soon after entering the woods. Elspeth had harvested them the previous year and they were growing again near the edge of the woods, a profusion of large white mushrooms, and also some rare and delicate caps.
‘These are wonderful,’ Rosamunde said and held some delicate fungi to her nose to smell them. ‘These are really delicious when cooked. They have so many uses and are my favourites.’
‘In spring you can find violets here. We harvest them for they grow in profusion. Their perfume is wonderful for scenting clothes and balms for the body,’ Elspeth said. ‘But they are also good for sweetmeats and cleansing the breath—though I think lavender and roses have as many uses, if not more, for I make wine and cake with lavender and syrup from rose hips.’
‘Yes, indeed, they all have their uses. I suppose it is that violets come earlier and are a herald of the summer. I fear we must wait for next spring for we shall not find violets this late in the year. We must not take all the fungi but leave some for others,’ Rosamunde replied.
Seeing a clump of wild garlic growing a little further into the wood, Rosamunde wandered on and knelt down to examine them. There were many kinds of plants that could be used for flavouring food and in simple cures, but one had to be careful that, if any poisonous specimens were picked for use in particular lotions, they were not confused with those for cooking. She was looking at a clump of fungi that she was uncertain of as she spoke. ‘I believe this is something I have not seen before. Is it edible? What do you think, Elspeth?’
‘My lady—horsemen.’ Elspeth rose to her feet and looked towards the sound. She beckoned Beth to her and they both retreated to stand with Rosamunde.
‘You do not think Baron Sigmund…?’
Elspeth drew a trembling breath as a small group of horsemen burst through the trees. Their leader caught sight of the women and held up his hand to halt his men.
‘We have found them safe,’ he said, and dismounted and walked towards Rosamunde. She looked into Raphael’s eyes and shivered, seeing the fierce anger that simmered beneath the surface. ‘So, my lady, you were merely foraging. I thought perhaps you sought to run from me.’
‘Why should I do that?’ Rosamunde asked, her throat tight as she sensed his fury. Why was he so angry with her? ‘I noticed the lack of certain herbs when cooking supper last night and thought my women and I might supply the need. If we are to make preserves for the winter we shall need berries and fruits that grow wild here as well as anything you can provide, sir.’
‘You did not think to inform me of your intention—or perhaps ask my leave?’ he forced out through tightly gritted teeth.
‘You were busy with your visitor. I understood you wished to be private with him and thought it best not to intrude,’ she explained.
‘He saw you and remarked on your beauty. Do you think it was wise to expose yourself to his gaze, Rosamunde?’ he pressed.
‘I did not know I was supposed to hide myself away,’ she said with a defiant toss of her head.
‘Your common sense should have told you what kind of man he was. Had it been he and his men that found you, what do you suppose would have happened then?’ Raphael growled.
Rosamunde looked him in the eye. ‘I might have supposed that he would behave honourably since you chose to entertain him in private, as a friend.’
‘Had it not occurred to you that I might have wished to keep him from seeing you? I do not trust Baron Sigmund but neither do I want him as my enemy.’ His eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘Is that why you sneaked away—to punish me?’
‘I intended to ask, but then…’ Rosamunde shook her head. It was unfair of him to be angry with her. She took a deep breath. ‘If I am a prisoner then you should not treat me as an honoured guest one day and then lose your temper because I go walking with my women on the next. How am I supposed to know what I am?’
‘You are my guest,’ Raphael assured her and some of the anger left his face. He looked uncertain now. ‘Forgive me for losing my temper. I was worried when I learned you had left the castle—especially as Baron Sigmund and his men may still be in the vicinity. Women wandering alone without sufficient protection are always at the mercy of such rogues.’
Rosamunde accepted the truth of his words. ‘Yes, I ought to have thought of that for my women’s sake, if not my own. Had it been he instead of you, we might have been in difficulty.’
‘You would almost certainly have been abducted,’ he told her.
‘Surely a friend would not abduct a woman under your protection?’ she gasped, looking shocked.
‘A true friend would not, but I trust no man that hath not proved himself. I was forced to entertain him but that does not mean I trust him. I never take any man at face value,’ Raphael stated bluntly.
‘Or woman either?’ Rosamunde raised her eyes to look into his. ‘I admit that I ought to have told you my intentions for courtesy’s sake, if no more, but will you admit that my position here is not clear?’
‘Come, we shall not quarrel further,’ Raphael said and turned to his men. ‘Two of you remain, the others may return to the castle. I shall stay and help my lady gather what she needs.’
Rosamunde was surprised. ‘Surely you have other more important matters to attend?’
‘Much of what needed to be done is in hand,’ Raphael said. ‘Although there are some within the castle that I am uncertain of, most are loyal. I may need to leave you for a few days shortly. Until then I would spend some time with you, Rosamunde. I would learn who you truly are and what you think. Now, tell me what you seek.’
‘I was wondering what uses this hath,’ she said, showing him the strangely shaped fungi. ‘I am not sure whether it is poisonous or good to eat.’
‘I think that is edible,’ Raphael told her. ‘I believe my mother used to add them to soups and a mess of rabb
it and turnips to add flavour.’
‘Yes, my lady,’ Elspeth said. ‘It has a pinkish underside and is safe to eat, but there is a similar cap with a black underside that would make you very ill if you ate it.’
‘We call that one the death cap,’ Rosamunde said and added the fungi she’d picked to her basket. ‘I was hoping we might find blackberries but I think it may be too late.’
‘I know my mother sometimes found late berries around here,’ Raphael said and looked about him. ‘We are not far from a pleasant clearing. If there are any, it is there that we shall find them.’
‘I shall leave you to pick fungi here,’ Rosamunde said to Elspeth. ‘We shall explore a little further and see if there are any blackberries to be found. Follow us when you are ready.’
With her basket on her right arm, Rosamunde took Raphael’s arm with her left and smiled up at him.
‘Tell me, my lord, did you often come foraging with your mother?’
‘Not often enough,’ he replied. ‘I was mostly set to learning my Latin verbs or training with my father’s men, but sometimes I escaped. We always came a-maying together and in the autumn we would gather nuts and blackberries. I remember a fine liqueur she made from elderberries and we also gathered sloes for preserves and wine.’
‘And then you became a squire and went on crusade?’
‘After my mother died things changed. I did not exactly quarrel with my father, but we hardly spoke to one another. I believe now that he was grieving for her, but I did not understand him and thought that I alone felt the pain of her loss,’ Raphael admitted.
‘Perhaps it was because he lost you both that he became so bitter,’ she suggested.
‘Yes, perhaps—but a man must conquer his bitterness. Pain and grief does not give one the right to inflict suffering on others,’ he said sadly.
Rosamunde saw something in his eyes then that made her wonder. She did not pursue the subject but pointed to a clump of plants.
‘Horseradish, my lord. Take your knife and see if you can pull up a root or two. It will sharpen the palate and is delicious with roasted beef, and also in cream with fresh fish.’
Raphael bent, took his knife from its sheath and dug into the earth, bringing her two large roots.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at him, their hands brushing as he passed it to her.
‘You are very beautiful, lady.’ He leaned his head down, his lips brushing hers softly. ‘I had almost forgot how pleasant it was to pass time this way.’
Rosamunde cast her eyes down. His kiss was very different from the last he’d given her—soft, even tender, instead of punishing. It made her heart leap but she tried to hide her feelings for she must not let him see how his kiss affected her. Although he did his best to make her feel she was his guest, she knew that she was in truth a hostage and at the mercy of his whims.
‘You spoke of leaving—may I ask why, my lord?’ she asked.
‘I must speak with other lords of like mind,’ he told her. ‘My business is important, or I would keep my word and take you to your home, but I shall not forget you.’
‘You must do as you think fit, sir. A man has his work and a woman hers. I am content to wait, as long as my father wants for nothing.’
‘I shall dispatch someone very soon to make sure he has all he wants. I apologise that I have not already done this; I have been exceedingly busy,’ Raphael said ruefully.
‘May I make a suggestion?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You have a man in your service—his name is Ferdie and he is promised to Beth, one of my women,’ she said.
Raphael’s eyebrows arched. ‘You wish me to send them—why?’
‘Because my father still has a little land but it is neglected. I will grant Ferdie the right to work the land for himself and his family. In return he will see that my father has food and his wife will tend my father on his sickbed.’
‘And if your father should die?’
‘Then they may continue in possession of the land on payment of a fair rent,’ she announced.
‘Will you set your hand to such a document?’ he asked.
‘Yes, if your scribe will draw it for us—and you will bear witness to the bargain.’
‘Do you not think your husband might perhaps wish to claim the land?’ he pressed.
‘I do not expect to marry. I have no dowry worth the notice of a knight, and would rather remain unwed than take the yeoman my cousin would have me wed,’ she said honestly.
‘You give away what little you have very easily,’ he murmured.
‘I had plans to raise a few pigs, and perhaps take in sewing, but I could not plough the land nor afford to pay others. The rent I require will be little enough—merely some corn to make bread and perhaps a few coins, whatever is fair. My cousin promised me fifty gold talents if I brought the ransom to you in her place. I think she might have refused to pay me when the time came, but since you are not intending to keep the ransom money she sent I may keep what I am owed and return the rest to her.’
‘Why should you not keep all of it?’
‘That would be dishonest, sir. I am no thief.’
‘No, I see that, my lady.’ Raphael looked thoughtful. ‘When I escort you home we shall call on your cousin and return what is owed. If she demands the fifty talents back, I shall protect you from her anger.’
‘You are generous, sir. While you are away I should like to begin stocking your shelves with preserves. Would you have your steward send to market for anything that we need?’ she asked.
‘Of course. You have only to ask. I am grateful for the work you do. I believe my home is in sore need of a woman’s touch.’
‘Your wife will supply it when you marry,’ she said quietly.
‘If I marry. I am not certain that I shall—or not for some years. In time I should perhaps think of an heir, but it is not urgent just yet for I am in good health,’ he said, suddenly looking sombre once more.
Rosamunde glanced away. She wondered why he had no plans to marry but would not ask. It was not her business to press for details that were clearly private.
Her gaze moved away, and suddenly she saw the little cluster of fruit. She gave a glad cry and ran to the bush where a patch of plump blackberries was growing; she stretched up in delight, picking a lush berry. She popped it into her mouth and sighed with pleasure.
‘There is nothing like the first blackberry of the year,’ she said as he bent one knee and knelt beside her. ‘You must taste the treat, my lord.’ She pulled a ripe fruit and held it to him, placing it on his tongue as he obediently opened his mouth. ‘Crush it against the roof of your mouth and let the flavour flood out before you swallow.’
He smiled and followed her advice, nodding agreement. ‘There is nothing to compare with the special sharp and yet sweet flavour of these, unless it is a wild strawberry.’
‘We must pick them very carefully. Added to other fruits, these will make a wonderful conserve. My ladies and I will make quince and plum jams, also blackberry and apple conserve—and if we can find them we shall make pickled walnuts and almond paste for the feast at Christ’s Mass.’
‘I am not certain that we have walnuts or almonds here—but there should be hazelnuts at the edge of the clearing,’ he offered.
‘I think there is a clump of bushes over there.’ Rosamunde pointed and they moved towards the far side of the clearing to harvest the small nuts.
Raphael helped pick the fruit, then, when their baskets were filled to the brim, they smiled and sat on a fallen tree, enjoying the pale sun that filtered through the canopy. The sound of voices and laughter heralded the arrival of the two serving women and the men-at-arms.
More fruit and berries were found at the edge of the clearing. For some minutes laughter and chattering voices echoed through the clearing. Sun was shining through the trees, the air crisp and sweet with the scents of autumn.
Looking about her at the smiling faces, Rosamunde was awar
e of a feeling of happiness that had been lacking from her life for many a year. The thought crossed her mind that it would be pleasant to live this way, enjoying the pleasures of a simple life with people she cared for.
‘A silver penny for your thoughts?’
Raphael’s teasing voice close to her ear sent a tingle running down her spine. She shook her head, because her thoughts had been foolish and must remain her own. They were merely fancy, a whimsical dream on an unseasonably warm day.
‘Oh, they are worth far more,’ she replied teasingly, and laughed softly. ‘I thank you for a lovely morning, my lord. It is time we returned to the castle, for the sooner the fruits of our labour are put to work the better.’
* * *
‘I must leave soon if I am to persuade others to contribute to the ransom for Richard.’ Raphael toyed with the stem of his wine cup as he looked at Sir Jonathan across the table in his private chamber. He had been considering how best to protect Rosamunde whilst he was gone. His friend was the best man he knew to care for both the lady and his castle. ‘Will you remain here to see that the men do not neglect their training—and watch over the lady Rosamunde?’
‘Of course. I have no family awaiting my return and shall stay to celebrate with you this Christ’s Mass. One day I must buy land and a house and marry, but for the moment I am content to serve you. I shall keep the men to their work—but what of the lady? Do you not fear that she will try to leave when you are gone?’ his friend asked.
‘She has given her word not to leave whilst I am absent. I believe she understands that she is vulnerable without my protection. Give her as much freedom as possible, but she is not to leave the castle grounds without at least three men to guard her,’ Raphael warned.
‘Do you fear an abduction?’
‘I think Prince John might take her prisoner if he could—and Baron Sigmund respects no woman and would use her for his own pleasure. She ought in all conscience to be wed. ‘Tis the only safe estate for a woman as fair as she,’ Raphael mused.