by Anne Herries
‘Lord Mornay is my betrothed. If I cannot return to my home, let me return to him. I beg you, sir. Do not force me to remain here as your hostage,’ she pleaded.
‘Your lord must answer for my kinsman’s death,’ the baron insisted stubbornly. ‘It will be a fight to the death, single combat. If Mornay wins he may claim you, but if I win you will become my property.’
‘No!’ Rosamunde shrank away from him. ‘Please let me go! I love Sir Raphael. I belong to him. I can never be yours.’
‘Never is a long time, lady.’ He turned and beckoned to an old crone, who came hobbling towards them. ‘Griselda, take this lady to the tower. She is in your care until I have time to speak with her again.’
Rosamunde looked at him and saw that he would not be swayed. He was insisting on defending the so-called honour of his blood kin, regardless of the truth. When Raphael came to find her, he would be forced to fight this man—a man so strong and powerful that she doubted any one knight could defeat him.
Tears burned behind her eyes as she was led away. She held them back, because she must not allow Baron Sigmund to see her as a weak woman. He spoke of friendship towards her father but he would not let her go home. She was but a woman, and as such the property of any man who cared to take her.
Her throat tightened as she realised that in truth she no longer had any home but Mornay Castle. Her father was dead and she was a woman alone. She had no powerful relatives to defend or claim her. No one but Raphael—the man she loved.
He had never told her that he loved her, but she believed he cared for her as much as he was able. When he learned she was being held hostage here, he would come to try and wrest her from the baron. A terrible price would be demanded of him, because she was sure that he would accept the baron’s challenge; no knight of honour would refuse. Raphael would fight to win her back and there was a good chance he would be killed.
The tears that she’d held back earlier trickled down her cheeks. Her father was dead and soon the man she loved could also be dead. If that happened, she would be alone and at the mercy of Baron Sigmund—but not for long.
Rather than wed him she knew she would take her own life. She would rather join those she loved in the grave than live with a man like the baron.
Chapter Eleven
Standing at the window of her chamber at the top of the west tower, Rosamunde looked down at the courtyard below her. She could see that preparations were being made for a siege and realised that Baron Sigmund must have received word that Raphael was bringing a force against him.
‘Do not let him fight single-handed,’ she whispered, her lips moving in prayer. ‘I would not have him die for my sake.’
‘Your prayers will do little good in this godforsaken place,’ a voice said behind her.
Rosamunde turned to look at the woman who had served her since she was brought to this room two days earlier. She was in truth a prisoner, seeing no one but Griselda. Unlike Raphael, her gaoler had not invited her to dine in his hall. Indeed, she’d seen nothing of him since that first meeting.
‘Is there nothing I can do to move the baron?’ she asked, her throat tight with emotion. ‘I would do anything to save Lord Mornay’s life. I would rather die than be the cause of his death.’
‘If you gave your honour it would not suffice. The baron would lose all respect for you and, once he tired of you, would give you to his men. I have seen it many times, lady. It was only your pride and your courage—and your father’s name—that kept him from using you as he has so many others,’ the old crone said.
‘Then there is nothing I can do,’ Rosamunde said hopelessly. ‘Yet I would rather die than submit to him. I shall not wed him.’
‘You will have little choice once your betrothed is dead. The baron will wed you, and if you please him he may keep you until you give him a son. He has three wives already in the grave. Two died in suspicious circumstances after giving him only daughters,’ Griselda told her.
Rosamunde closed her eyes, shudders of revulsion sweeping through her. ‘Then I shall take my own life. When I know that my lord is dead, I shall not be long in joining him.’
‘You might escape if you have the courage to try.’
‘What?’ Rosamunde thought she had misheard. ‘How could I escape? There are always guards, and my door is locked.’
‘I could unlock it at night and show you a way out,’ the old lady offered gleefully.
‘Why would you do that?’ she gasped.
‘The baron killed my son,’ Griselda replied. ‘I have hated him from that day to this, waiting my chance for revenge.’
‘You would help me because of what Sigmund did to your son?’
‘And others—friends who died because of his brutality.’ Griselda nodded.
‘Why have you waited until now?’
‘Because I am too weak to kill him and there is not a man in the castle that would risk it. I would have used poison but everything he eats is tasted first. I have decided that my only hope of revenge is to take from him something he truly covets—and that is you, my lady.’
‘When? It must be soon, for if we delay it will be too late,’ Rosamunde urged.
‘I shall come tonight. I can release you and show you the way to escape, but you must go on alone. I am too old to run and hide and I should only slow you down. You must get to your lord and warn him not to accept the challenge,’ Griselda said.
‘Yes, I shall,’ Rosamunde replied eagerly. ‘But what of you? Will the baron not punish you?’
‘He can only take my life. I shall give it willingly to know that I have thwarted him. It will be sweet revenge, lady. I am nothing, less than the dirt beneath his feet. To see his face when he learns that you are gone, and it was I that set you free, will be sweeter than honey,’ the old lady crooned with satisfaction.
‘You are brave,’ Rosamunde said with admiration.
‘Will you not come with me? I could find you a place in my household. You would be fed and cared for until you die.’
‘No, I shall not run from him. My time is close and I would sooner meet death swiftly than linger. Death will be welcome to me, lady.’
‘Then I can only thank you—and remember you in my prayers,’ Rosamunde said gratefully.
‘Light a candle for me,’ Griselda said and gave her a toothless smile. ‘Your prayers may light the path to heaven and I shall see my loved ones again.’
‘Listen—someone is coming,’ Rosamunde warned. ‘Be careful.’
The door was flung back and Baron Sigmund appeared in the opening, his eyes narrowed as he saw the two women.
‘What goes on here?’
‘I came to bring the lady water, for she had none,’ Griselda said. ‘I was about to leave and lock her in, lord. Do you wish me to wait?’
‘Go.’ He dismissed her, then held her arm as she would have passed. ‘Give me the key. In future a guard will accompany you when you visit her.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ Griselda handed him a large, black iron key, then shuffled off, closing the door behind her.
Had he heard them discussing her escape? Rosamunde’s heart sank painfully as she saw the baron pocket the key without glancing at it. Griselda would not be able to help her now. She was truly the baron’s prisoner and there was nothing she could do. She faced him proudly, waiting for him to speak.
‘The castle is preparing for a siege; your lord is coming. He thinks to take you back, lady, but you are under my protection and I shall issue my challenge. When he is dead, you will be mine. If you behave as you ought, I shall wed you, but if you remain proud and stubborn I shall give you to my men as a plaything.’
‘If you mean to frighten me you waste your breath,’ Rosamunde said, pride making her strong again.
‘By heaven, you tempt me sorely, wench. I think you would fight like a cat but I would risk your scratches to taste that sweetness at your core.’ He moved towards her as if he intended to make good his promise. Rosamunde tensed, prepared to
fight to the last for her honour, but the sound of running feet up the stone steps halted him and he turned as the door was once more flung open. ‘What is it, man?’
‘Lord Mornay’s forces have been seen beyond the village, lord. He could be here within the hour.’
‘He will send a messenger to negotiate. It is but an hour to sunset; he would not risk an attack before morning. Go down and tell the men to double the guard. I shall be with you in a moment,’ the baron ordered.
The man departed and Baron Sigmund turned back to Rosamunde. ‘I shall allow you to watch the fight between us. You will know when you see Mornay dead at my feet that I am the better warrior and more fitted to be your husband.’
Rosamunde did not reply; far better to give him a proud, haughty stare. He looked at her in frustration for a moment, then turned and walked away. She heard the sound of a key in the lock and sank down on the edge of the bed in despair.
There was nothing she could do but wait.
* * *
‘Take my message to the gates of Sigmund’s stronghold,’ Raphael said to his knight. ‘He must honour a flag of truce, and I believe he will do so, for it is obvious he wants something of me. Had he wanted money, he would have simply tried to take Mornay while I was absent.’
As the man rode away with his white banner, Raphael looked at Janquil. ‘It is my intention to go in alone and challenge Baron Sigmund to armed combat. If he believes he has a score to settle with me I would rather meet him face to face than risk the lives of others. I need someone to accompany me and carry my pennant. Will you be that man?’
‘You know the answer, my lord,’ Janquil said. ‘I would lay down my life for you—but surely another knight might be of more use in a fight?’
‘Your task is to find my lady. It is my hope that, while the assembled company is busy watching the fight, you may be able to spirit her away. I know there is not a lock you cannot open, and you have a clever, devious mind. If there is a way to rescue her, you will find it. There is but a slim chance of success but I know you would do anything to save her,’ Raphael said.
‘There might be a way,’ Janquil said thoughtfully. ‘But it will only work if you win.’
‘Tell me what is in your mind,’ Raphael said. He listened as Janquil outlined his plan and then smiled. ‘Yes, my friend. It is dangerous, particularly for you, but it might work.’
‘My life is not important. Had I been a warrior, I would have given it the day they took her, but I knew I could not hope to rescue her and it seemed best to bring the news of her capture.’
‘You did well, my friend. I think your plan will work, but if it does not know that I shall not blame you. I alone am to blame for this,’ Raphael stated grimly.
* * *
A key was turning in the lock. Rosamunde stood up, tensed and ready for whatever would happen next. She stood bravely, waiting. When the old woman entered the chamber alone, she was so stunned she could not move for the moment.
‘Does the guard wait outside?’ she gasped.
‘I am alone. Come, my lady. Most of the men are on the ramparts. A messenger has arrived from Lord Mornay under a flag of truce. The baron is talking with him and this is our chance to leave,’ Griselda urged.
‘How did you get the key?’
‘I had two keys with me, one to the chapel; it is my duty to clean the altar and the chalices. I gave him that key and he did not glance at it, for he had left his own key in the lock of the door,’ the old crone said triumphantly.
‘That was clever and well done,’ Rosamunde said with approval. ‘I believed all help of rescue was gone. Yet how shall we pass the guards unseen? The drawbridge is raised. I do not see how we can leave the castle without being noticed.’
‘I came here as a child, when the old baron’s father was lord here. When I grew up he fell in love with me. He never thought of marriage, but he loved and trusted me, and I became his mistress. I had his son. Before he died, he showed me a secret passage that leads below the castle and out to the ruins of an ancient church. The ruins are half a mile from the village and it is somewhere close by the village that you may find Lord Mornay’s camp,’ Griselda explained.
‘A secret passage?’ Rosamunde felt icy cold. ‘Have you ever used it?’
‘I showed it to my son once and begged him to escape. Baron Sigmund knew that Robert was his halfbrother. He feared his father’s men might rise for him and so he murdered him before he had the chance to use it.’
‘It is little wonder that you hate him,’ Rosamunde said, but Griselda put a finger to her lips.
‘No more now,’ she whispered.
They crept down the stone steps leading to the tower room. At the bottom, Griselda whispered that she should wait in the shadows for a moment. The old woman shuffled off and she heard an argument ensue, then she returned and beckoned to Rosamunde.
‘I have sent the guard on an errand. Come quickly, lady, for he was suspicious and will not be long.’
They fled through the shadows in the large hall. Torches were flaring in sconces but because the men were on the battlements many had not been lit and the hall was empty. At this hour the men would normally be eating supper, relaxing at the end of the day.
At the end of the hall there was a heavy tapestry. Griselda moved it aside, her fingers exploring the thick, stone walls until she found a lever which she pulled sharply. There was a loud noise as a segment of the wall slid forward, and a black hole appeared.
Rosamunde hesitated, knowing that in such darkness she might encounter rats, spider’s webs and other creatures. Her courage almost failed her, but the thought of the alternative made her step forward.
‘Wait, mistress. You will need this.’
Griselda had fetched a torch of flaming pitch from its sconce on the wall and passed her the tapering handle.
‘It will show you the path you must follow and scare away the rats.’
‘Thank you; the torch will make it easier,’ Rosamunde said through fear-numbed lips and stepped into the darkness, feeling the chill begin to eat into her bones. ‘Are you sure you will not come with me?’
‘No, I must remain to close the passage or they will know where you have gone,’ Griselda said. ‘May God protect and bless you, lady.’
‘And you,’ Rosamunde replied with sincere gratitude.
She walked into the darkness. The torch showed her a passage leading on a downward slope, taking her below the castle walls and beyond. Behind her the wall had shut. She was alone in this horrible place and now her fear was very real, almost suffocating. Her heart raced as she took another step, her mouth dry as the terror swept over her.
‘I am not afraid.’ She spoke the words aloud to comfort herself. ‘There is an end to this tunnel and I shall come to it if I have courage.’
She had never felt so alone, never been so terrified, but one thought drove her on: she must reach the end and find Raphael before he accepted the baron’s challenge.
* * *
‘God be praised, you have returned unharmed.’ Raphael clapped the brave knight that had carried his message on the shoulder. ‘I prayed that Sigmund would honour the flag of truce but I could not be certain.’
‘He came to the gates himself and spoke with me, my lord. He bade me tell you that this is a matter of blood feud, and you must give your word that this must be settled between the two of you. Sir Edmund was his kinsman and he believes you executed him on a trumped-up charge.’
‘Is that what this is all about?’ Raphael frowned. ‘Did you give him my message? If he will allow Rosamunde to go free, I will accept a truce and leave in peace—but if he refuses I shall fight to the death.’
‘He says he will fight you for her. If you kill him,
his men will allow you to take her, but if you lose she belongs to him.’
‘How can I agree to such a bargain?’ Raphael said, flinging away with a cry of despair. He stood in the darkness, his back towards the knight. A feeling of despair and
anger swept over him. ‘I have a plan, but if it does not work she will be at his mercy.’ He shook his head. ‘Leave me, sir. I would be alone to think on this. If I give my word…No, I cannot let him have her.’
‘We could take the castle by force, my lord?’ his man suggested.
‘Perhaps, but men would die—and the baron might make her suffer for it. Leave me now. I shall think on this for a time before you take my answer.’
Raphael felt the pain twist inside him. It was unthinkable to leave Rosamunde to the mercy of Baron Sigmund. He was prepared for single combat and hopeful that he would prevail—but supposing he failed? If he gave his word to the baron that this matter would be settled between the two of them, he could not in all honour allow Janquil to spirit her away as they’d planned.
Be damned to his honour! As a young squire, and then when he was knighted, Raphael had sworn before God always to behave with honour. To give his word and break it was a foul trick and would be a stain upon his reputation for ever—yet the alternative was not to be thought of.
Rosamunde could not be left to that devil’s mercy. Raphael would sacrifice not only his life but also his honour to see her safe.
His mind made up, he summoned his messenger.
‘Go back to Baron Sigmund. At the hour of ten bells tomorrow morning, my squire and I will enter the castle alone under a flag of truce. I shall meet the baron and the winner will win the hand of the lady Rosamunde Meldreth.’
‘But my lord,’ the knight said, somewhat startled, ‘the men are ready to storm the castle and take her.’
‘I have a plan to bring her out,’ Raphael replied. ‘If I fail, you have my permission to do as your hearts dictate. Take revenge for me and rescue my lady if you can for love of me.’
The knight looked puzzled but inclined his head and turned away to where his horse stood ready, a squire waiting to assist him to mount.
Raphael looked back at the camp, where his men were sitting by a fire roasting meat in the flames. They were talking and laughing, seemingly filled with confidence. He could not face them at this moment. Walking into the darkness, he sought solitude and a chance to reflect.