by Jody Hedlund
“Think about the predicament from his perspective,” the abbot continued in his calm and quiet tone. “If he allows a few to break the law without repercussion, then others will think they can do the same. Such lenience could lead to anarchy.”
“You know I don’t condone stealing,” I said. “But if the poor are desperate enough to break the law, then we must increase the amount of their assistance.”
The abbot rose and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his habit. Although a slender man from his many fasts, he was not weak. The reverent lines of his face radiated the strength I had come to rely upon over the past four years.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and instead stared straight ahead thoughtfully and prayerfully.
I turned my own critical eye toward the view. The enormous hall with its high arched ceiling, palatial colonnades, thick tapestries, and glazed windows attested to my wealth. As did the elegant engraving on the golden chair in which I sat. What need did I have for such lavishness when my subjects languished? Selling or trading the opulent throne and tapestries could provide months of provisions for the poorest in the land. What need would I have for it anyway once I entered the convent next month?
The abbot finally sighed. “You have a soft heart, child. And you have already given more than you can afford.”
My stomach cinched at the feeling of ineptness that weighed on me whenever I conversed with the abbot about the financial predicament of my lands. If there was one point of disagreement between the abbot and me, it was on the distribution of funds. Even though I supported the architectural plans for the cathedral and abbey he was designing, I wanted to remain generous to the poor. We seemed to be growing at odds on how to do so without draining the coffers.
“We must do more,” I said more to myself than to the abbot. My parents had sacrificed their lives in order to help the people of Ashby. I’d vowed to do the same, to become the kind of ruler that my parents would be proud of, to do all I could so that their death wouldn’t be in vain.
The abbot finally gave a resigned nod. He knew that I’d made it my life calling to rule my people with compassion. “In the meantime,” he said, “you must show the same compassion to the sheriff that you wish to show to all of your people.”
I glanced again to the swarthy face of the man in question, half concealed behind a full black beard. Across the distance, his eyes glittered with a hardness that had always unnerved me. “But he knows I forbid the traditional methods of punishment in favor of more humane discipline.”
“I’ll speak with him,” the abbot said with a nod at my guards. With curt bows, they ushered the sheriff and bailiff out the double doors. As much as I wanted to punish the sheriff and show him that he must obey me as his ruler, whether he respected my authority or not, I couldn’t disregard the council of the one man in the world who often understood everything about me better than I understood myself.
The abbot rounded my dais and bowed before me, giving me a view of his shiny bald spot again. As he started down the long center aisle of the room with his slow measured steps, I wanted to call after him to stay. I wanted to talk about the problems in my kingdom. In fact, I would have been content to converse about anything rather than having to face the loneliness that had been growing in my life.
Lately, every time I entered the castle walls, I felt like I was returning to a deserted fortress. The enormity of the empty hall dwarfed me, reminding me of how alone I was. The long tables lining the walls had once been filled to overflowing, and the room had rung with laughter, the clink of goblets, the melodies of lutes, the songs of minstrels, and the chatter of the many guests who’d often visited.
But it was not so anymore. Few had stepped foot inside the Great Hall since that fateful night after my mother’s death, when I’d found the parchment in her chest. It had been the first time I’d learned of the sacred vow my parents had made, the vow that said I must enter the convent upon my eighteenth year.
For a long while after that night, I hadn’t wanted visitors. I’d decided it was useless to form friendships when I would have to sever them all too soon. Then after a time, word of my circumstances and my parents’ vow had spread throughout the realm. Any potential suitors who had once considered vying for my hand in marriage no longer had reason to visit. The abbot encouraged me to continue to facilitate good relations with neighboring lords, but without my father, and having only a young woman ruler to contend with, the lords also visited infrequently.
After four years of isolation and missing my parents, I’d never felt as alone as I did now. It was only when I was outside the castle walls visiting my people and delivering goods among the poor that I could forget about the ache.
I released a long sigh that echoed in the emptiness of the hall.
As the guards opened the double doors for the abbot, my porter, James, entered the hall. He was a hulk of a man, with broad shoulders and beefy arms, and he stood a head taller than most, reminding me of a giant. At the sight of the abbot, James came to a halt and ducked his large, bald head.
“What do you need, James?” the abbot asked, eyeing the servant.
“I’ve a message for her ladyship.” James’s response came out in his usual gruff tone.
“Lady Rosemarie is distressed from a torture she witnessed today,” the abbot said. “Step outside and deliver the message to me. Then I’ll determine whether she needs to receive it.”
James turned to do the abbot’s bidding.
“No,” I said, daring to defy my councilor. I wanted — needed — to talk with someone, even if it was only a servant.
The abbot’s brows rose.
“I’m not too distressed to speak with James.” I motioned him toward me. James lumbered down the aisle. Not long after my parents died, when I’d been alone, young, and vulnerable, the abbot had decided James would add another layer of defense to my castle as the one in charge of its main entrance, as well as be available as a personal bodyguard should the need arise. The first time I’d met James, when the abbot had brought him to the castle, I’d half expected the hulk to pull out an enormous club and bat away anyone who dared approach me. Since then, I’d come to realize James might look intimidating, but that’s as far as the bravado went.
As he reached my golden chair, he bowed, revealing the abbot, who had followed closely behind him.
“Deliver your message, James,” I said.
James kept his head bowed. “Your ladyship is to have guests.”
Guests? The very mention of the word sent a ripple of surprise through me. “Do they come in peace?”
“Yes, your ladyship.”
“It’s been so long.” The last visitor had been after the Feast of Epiphany months ago. And even that had been only because my neighbors to the south, the Baron of Caldwell and his wife, had been traveling to court and had been caught in a storm. They’d stopped to seek refuge for a night. Seeing them had brought back painful memories of their son, Thomas, and the last time we’d been together. Though I’d only been fourteen at the time, the attraction between us had been strong and our plans for the future had been so bright.
The vow had taken away all my dreams of a life with Thomas — or with any man. As a woman destined for celibacy, I’d had no right to hold on to love and plans for marriage. I’d let Thomas go, though it had been hard. And he’d done likewise. If Thomas had tried to cling to me, he would have put my life in danger, for the vow my parents made was unbreakable except by death.
I’d assumed that I’d long past buried my feelings for Thomas . . . until Baroness Caldwell informed me that he’d finally married last autumn.
Why guests today? Why now?
James watched me, as if he had heard my unspoken questions and expected me to know the answers.
But I had no explanation. Thankfully, it was Midsummer’s Eve. If I had guests this day, at least I’d be prepared to feed them. I’d already planned a lavish feast, as I did every year for all the servant
s along with the garrison of soldiers who worked within the walls of my castle. I always made sure the Midsummer’s Eve feast was much more extravagant than necessary so that afterward the poor beggars who came to the kitchen door would have plenty to eat.
“Did they give word on when they would arrive?” I asked with a shiver of anticipation.
“The messenger said they’re but a half day’s ride away, my lady. They’ll reach the town walls by eventide.”
I nodded, thinking of the knight who’d rescued the criminals from their torture. Had he been the messenger?
As if thinking the same thing, the abbot’s thin brows came together in a frown. “If this was the same knight who was in town earlier, dressed in his battle armor, then how do we know he comes in peace and not ready to wage war?”
James ducked his head and shied a step away from the abbot. “The messenger claimed he was riding with the Noblest Knight.”
The Noblest Knight, the Duke of Rivenshire? I couldn’t help myself — my heart expanded with a sudden bloom of hope. “Truly?”
James reached into his tunic and retrieved a ring. He held it out so that I could clearly see the cross at the center. The Noblest Knight’s emblem. “He sent this to assure you of his goodwill and said he’ll retrieve it when he arrives.”
I took the heavy silver ring and traced the raised beams of the cross, reveling in the thought of having the company. The Duke of Rivenshire had been one of my father’s closest friends and my godfather. When they were younger, they’d served together in war campaigns and had saved each other’s lives on more than one occasion. Although I hadn’t seen the duke since my parents’ funeral, I had no doubt I’d relish every moment of his visit.
The abbot peered at the ring. “How can we be sure it’s his and not stolen by some crook hoping to storm Ashby?”
“’Tis his,” I said. “There’s no crook who could take this from the duke, not without severing his finger for it.”
“Then would you like me to tell the servants to make ready for their arrival?” James asked looking between the abbot and myself as though he was unsure who was giving the orders.
“I think it best if we use caution, my child,” the abbot advised. “Perhaps we can send out a regiment of our own men to survey the truth of the situation.”
I held back a sigh. The abbot knew I didn’t like to be overprotected and treated like a child. Most of the time, he held himself in check and tried not to smother me. But there were still times — like now — when he worried too much. It was for my good. I tried to remind myself of that every time he sheltered me. He’d had to bear a great deal of responsibility since my parents had died. He only wanted to ensure that I remained safe, and I was grateful for that.
Nevertheless, I was no longer a young, naive girl of fourteen who needed his advice and protection at every turn. I’d learned a great deal about running my lands in the last four years. And now that I was only weeks away from taking full leadership, I balked even more under the abbot’s hovering.
“My dear Father Abbot,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a grateful smile. “If I send out my own soldiers, the duke may think he’s unwelcome here, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I look forward to seeing him, and since we have only a few hours to make ready I suggest we put forth all our effort into preparing for his arrival.”
The worried grooves in the abbot’s forehead didn’t smooth away. But after another moment’s hesitation, he finally nodded.
In my chamber, I twisted a long strand of my blond hair around my finger. “How do I look?” I asked Trudy for the hundredth time.
Trudy swatted my hand away from the delicate but twirling curls that fell below my waist. “I say you’ll look like a drowned cat in no time if you keep tugging at your hair.”
I clasped my hands together at the front of my loveliest gown — a silk of purest pink, the color of the roses that grew on the trellises covering the stone walls below my chamber and in the gardens surrounding the keep. One of the maids had woven a crown of freshly cut rosebuds. It now graced my head, and matched my gown to perfection.
A trumpet in the courtyard outside my open window interrupted my moment of vanity. The excitement that had been building inside my chest resonated with the blast.
“The Noblest Knight has arrived, my lady,” my oldest and most trusted guard, Bartholomew, called from the hallway.
Trudy stood back, planted her hands on her wide hips, and surveyed me. “I just don’t know, my lady. I don’t feel quite right about everything.”
“Then you don’t think I look nice enough to receive my guests?” I twirled in a circle so that my gown swished.
“You look too grown up.”
I laughed, the echo of it wavering with both relief and nervousness. “You and the abbot make a fine pair, always worrying about me. It’s about time, though, that the two of you realize I am grown up.”
Trudy harrumphed and brushed at an invisible fleck of dust on my skirt. From beneath her plain head covering, her gray hair framed her plump cheeks. She was as dear to me now as she’d been in my childhood. And although I should have taken a proper lady’s maid long ago, I couldn’t relinquish this dear woman who’d been a second mother to me, especially in recent years when I’d missed the comforting arms and tender kisses of my mother.
As I crossed the spacious bedchamber, Trudy lifted the train of my gown to keep it from dragging in the fresh rushes the servants had strewn across the stone floor.
When one of the maids opened the heavy paneled door, it drew in a breeze from the window, bringing with it the sweet, familiar scent of roses. I let the air bathe my skin and tried to contain my excitement.
By the time I’d traversed the long hallway, descended the steep winding stairway in the stone tower, and reached the massive doors of the keep, my knees shook with anticipation.
James was waiting by the doors, wringing his large hands. “I think Abbot Francis Michael was right. The duke has brought other knights with him and they’re all dressed for battle. What if he’s come to attack you and take over your lands?”
“Don’t be silly, James.” I straightened the crown of roses one last time and then smoothed a hand down the front of my gown. “I’m sure the duke comes in peace.”
“I think we should wait to receive them until the abbot returns,” he whispered, his gaze darting to the shadows as though he wanted nothing more than to hide there. “I’ve sent a messenger for him so he’s aware the guests are here.”
“After a weary day of riding, we cannot keep them waiting. I shall receive them now.” I nodded at the doors, the signal for James to open them, precede me, and announce my presence. He hesitated only a moment longer before bowing and obeying. The doors squealed on their hinges as he swung them wide, making it obvious they had not been opened enough in recent years.
The fading evening sunlight poured into the hallway, beaming down on me. With Trudy’s final fussing over my train, I glided forward, passing through the doors onto the wide, open balcony at the top of the front steps. The gleam of silver armor, the glint of weapons, the clanking of metal, and the stomping of horses greeted me. The knights were covered from head to toe in protective gear yet sat straight and tall on their steeds. They were followed by a small army: squires and groomsmen on horses behind them, along with servants on baggage carts.
A hush fell over the crowded courtyard, and every gaze turned to me. What if the abbot had been right about their intention? Had I rushed into a dangerous situation?
The peace I’d had only a moment ago fled, making me wish I could follow it back into the dark comfort of the keep. But I held still and forced the greeting required of me. “I am Lady Rosemarie Montfort, and I welcome you to Ashby.”
The lead knight slid from his mount and tugged off his helmet and padded cap to reveal silver hair and the kind, regal face of the Duke of Rivenshire.
“Your Grace.” I curtsied and bowed my head in deference. As a younger b
rother of the High King, the duke was my superior even if he’d been a family friend.
“Rosemarie?” His voice held surprise. He moved toward the bottom step, taking me in from the crown of roses on my head to the dainty slippers on my feet. A smile hovered over his lips.
“Yes, your Grace.” I curtsied again, trying to quell the nervousness that sprang to life. What would he think of me after so many years?
“Of course I expected you to have matured since the last time I saw you,” he said. “And rumors of your beauty had reached us even to the far borders of the kingdom.”
I could feel a heated blush moving into my cheeks.
“But I was not prepared for exactly how grown up and lovely you truly are.”
“You are much too kind.” I’d never paid attention to the whispers surrounding my beauty. I’d always believed the poor beggar children who admired me couldn’t help it compared to the squalor of their lives. I’d never believed I was extraordinary, only that it was hard not to shine in such darkness.
The duke’s smile widened, and he started up the stone steps. When he stopped before me, he reached for my hand and kissed it tenderly, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his face showing many more lines than it had the last time I’d seen him.
“And how are you, dear one?” he asked softly.
With his last words, I couldn’t keep from envisioning the last time I’d seen the duke, the day after my parents’ funeral. We’d stood in this exact spot saying our good-byes. Although he’d invited me to live with his wife in Rivenshire, I hadn’t been able to leave Ashby and all the memories of my parents. My heart constricted with sudden longing — and sadness — for my father and mother, their love and companionship, and all that I’d lost when they’d died.
If only . . .
The moment the discontent whispered through me, I squelched it. There was no sense brooding about what could have been. I couldn’t change anything now. I needed to accept my fate with the positive attitude I’d worked so hard to cultivate.