Catherine Coulter

by The Valcourt Heiress

  “Keep faith with me, that’s all I ask. Now, I also know you are all weak from hunger, so we will do everything very slowly, and rest often. At the very least, we have water.”

  She studied their faces as she stepped back. There was more discussion, some rumblings, but soon even the creaky old men began to nod. She even saw a smile on two faces, and an old man shouted, “Let us do it! Let us make Wareham great again!” There was a weak cheer, but it sounded wonderful to Merry’s ears. Merry felt like shouting to the blackened beams with relief. She looked out over all the people, and saw straighter backs, higher heads, not a surprise really. Now everyone had purpose, they knew they would survive.

  As soon as everyone was busy collecting cleaning rags and hobbling brooms together, Merry accompanied Bullic to the cooking shed. The Black Demon had searched for Arthur’s silver coins even here. Crockery was smashed, cooking tables overturned and cleaved with axes. Filth was everywhere. It smelled terrible. Merry assigned Bullic and five other men to find wooden fragments large enough to make spits to cook the game in the huge great hall fireplace. The huge beams overhead were black, she saw, but the flames would kill the smell of rot and grime. She set the women to work inside the cooking shed, mending plates and platters, and cleaning the few cookpots that survived.

  The keep itself was outrageously dirty—the stinking reeds were filled with spoiled food, bones, and dead rats. There were no fresh reeds to cover the floors, so Merry had the stone floor swept out, and all the refuse tossed onto the midden.

  It was a dreadful job, and done very slowly, since everyone was so weak. Exhaustion was the enemy. Merry called a halt to the work many times and sent people to rest in the inner bailey. And she encouraged them endlessly. Finally, the great hall began to look less wretched, and the smell was no longer quite so bad.

  Since the dozen trestle tables had all been smashed, leaving nothing but sharp stakes of wood, she sent the men out to find large boards to set upon stones gathered from the destroyed soldier’s barracks. They managed to cobble together ten low tables.

  “ ’ Twas a good idea, mistress,” Tupper said, and patted her arm.

  Merry grinned at him.

  When Garron returned three hours later with a huge boar tied to a pole, loud cheering filled the inner bailey. Garron was their hero.

  “The cook, Old Clerc, died in the Retribution,” Miggins told him, “but yer not to worry, my lord.”

  “Why not?”

  “We have Bullic. And our little Merry can direct him, she knows what to do.”

  “Who is our little Merry?”

  “She, poor little mite, is the daughter of Wareham’s priest, Father Adal, who died in the Retribution from a knife in his chest. He was learned, he was, and thus he taught her to read and write. Lady Anne gave her household instruction before she died. Ye will see what Merry has accomplished whilst ye were gone.” And Miggins gave him a big toothy smile and hoped she had not overpraised.

  Garron didn’t change expression, and he knew a lie when it hit him in the nose, but what part of what she’d said was a lie? He didn’t know, and at the moment, he didn’t care. Facing the enormity of what was ahead, he simply dismissed it, and smiled over at the girl, who kept her head down, as if afraid of him, or afraid he would see too much. He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t done anything until this morning, but again, he let it go for now. Maybe, like the others, she hadn’t bothered because she’d had no hope of survival.

  “Ye go get the beast’s blood off ye, my lord. Merry will see to the food.”

  Once Garron had stripped off his clothes in the inner bailey, rubbed himself all over with their single chunk of soap, Gilpin poured a pail of water from the castle well over his head. Garron shuddered and shook himself like a mongrel. “Tupper told me the devils missed this one bucket. He found it beneath a thick branch of a pear tree in the orchard. They’d chopped down the tree but missed the bucket.” Garron and his men shared the soap, except for Pali, who said there was only a sliver left and that wouldn’t even wash one leg, and he smelled sweet, did he not?

  Garron strongly doubted there would be any more soap to be found in the keep. He prayed one of the women knew how to make soap. This girl, Merry—the priest’s bastard daughter—he also prayed she was as competent as old Miggins had assured him she was. First things first. Now there was enough food for everyone.

  Garron hummed as he dressed himself in the clean clothes Gilpin shook out and gave to him. He paused a moment, realizing he heard men and women speaking, then a shout, even a short laugh. The silence was over, he thought, pleased. Where was the girl Merry?

  10

  Bullic was in charge of roasting the boar steaks. Merry watched him show six men and four women how to cut the meat. While he gave instruction, she saw him swell with pride. He himself spit all the steaks, grinning maniacally, and giving his cohorts orders without a pause, which no one seemed to mind. Everyone, she saw, moved more quickly, their heads higher, their voices stronger because now there was food brought to them by their new lord, and they knew their stomachs would soon stop cramping from hunger.

  She grinned when she heard Miggins tell people how Merry was a young angel sent from God to help them, and they were to treat her well, and they must not forget—her voice dropped to a whisper—her name was Merry and she was Father Adal’s bastard daughter brought with him when he’d come to Wareham some six summers ago. Who was her mother? Who cared, Miggins said, and shrugged her scrappy, thin shoulders.

  Flames roared in the huge fireplace. The smell of searing meat filled the great hall. Those few who’d grumbled now smiled. No one cared who exactly she was or where she came from. They might care in two days, but not now. She imagined they’d be willing to swear she was sent by Queen Eleanor herself if they had enough to eat. She smiled at that, remembering how she’d rubbed the queen’s back to relieve the aches from her child-swollen belly.

  Soon, the smells—divine as baking figs, according to one old man—filled every nostril, and made all the trapped blue smoke well worth the watery eyes.

  At last, Miggins in the lead, followed by Merry and her workers, carried the meat, still sizzling, stacked upon various small slabs of wood, and set them upon the planks placed carefully atop the stacked stones. No one worried about sitting on the hard stone floor.

  There was instant silence, then sounds of chewing, and groans of pleasure.

  Garron didn’t mind that the girl served him and his men last. He watched her as she brought a large plank piled high with meat to where he and his men sat cross-legged, and eased it down. This plank was wider since it was, after all, the lord’s plank.

  A priest’s byblow? He wanted to question her more closely, ask her why she wasn’t starving like the others, why she hadn’t been ravished and taken by the Black Demon’s soldiers, but he smelled the meat, and realized he was hungrier than he’d been just the moment before.

  He breathed in deeply. “You have done well.”

  “Bullic found a bit of salt and sprinkled it on the meat.”

  “I like salt. Now tell me, your name is Merry?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “ ’Tis an odd name. Your full name is Merriam?”

  “Nay, simply Merry. I was told my father was endowed with a dour nature until I was born and smiled up at him, and thus he named me Merry.”

  “Your mother was a castle servant?”

  A castle servant? Why not? She nodded, marveled at how a little practice made it easier to lie. “She wove beautiful cloth.”

  “She died?”

  “Aye, when I was born.”

  “I am sorry your father was killed in the Retribution. His name was Father Adal?”

  She bowed her head, and merely nodded. She was aware of Gilpin staring hard at her, puzzlement writ clearly on his young face. Did he recognize her as the boy he’d given bread to the night before? Thankfully, Aleric handed him a steak speared on his knife. She watched Gilpin inhale the magnificent sce
nt, and quickly transfer the steak to his own knife.

  “Where were you last night?”

  “Miggins wasn’t certain you weren’t as bad as the Black Demon. She insisted I remain hidden until she was sure of your intentions.”

  “So now she is certain?”

  “Aye, she is.”

  “You weren’t here when I was.”

  She shook her head. “My father brought me from another keep farther to the south.”

  “What was the name of the keep?”

  It came out of her mouth without thought. “Valcourt.”

  “Valcourt? That is a very rich holding. Why did your father leave?”

  “Lord Timothy wished to give the post to another, and so we had to leave. We came here to Wareham. Lady Anne convinced Lord Arthur to take us in since there was no priest in residence, and so he did.”

  Garron made room on the floor beside him. “Sit here and eat.”

  She hadn’t expected this. Thanks to Lady Anne’s full-cut skirts, she was able to sit cross-legged beside him. Garron speared a piece of meat for her.

  She pulled it off with her fingers and simply smelled it before she took a lovely big bite. She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes, but Garron did.

  He grinned as he took his own bite. He chewed. “This is very good. It appears you got all the people together and assigned them tasks. The great hall looks much cleaner, and the sour smell is mostly gone. Why did you not do anything before I arrived?”

  A very good question. She chewed another bite, swallowed, said simply, truth in her voice because she knew it was true, “There was no hope. Every man who left to hunt food was murdered by the Black Demon’s soldiers. We were helpless and trapped within the castle walls. Why sweep the floor when death is coming? When you went out this morning, did you see any signs of the Demon’s soldiers?”

  “Nay, we saw no one. We went directly into the Forest of Glen and hunted. Perhaps you will tell me about the Retribution? And this fellow who titles himself the Black Demon, which sounds like a name meant to scare small children.”

  Thank St. Hermione’s scarred knees the people of Wareham had spoken of the Black Demon within her hearing during the day. “He did more than scare children. He and his men butchered them.” Her voice caught on that, for the actual saying of those words was terrible indeed. She wondered if she’d even be able to speak about it if she’d actually been here, to witness the death, hear the screams, see the horror, and see to burying all the dead.

  “I was told the young women were raped and taken away. Why were you spared?”

  “Miggins hid me in the jakes. The soldiers did not go there since there was nothing for them to destroy, and I suppose the Black Demon didn’t believe the silver coins to be hidden there.”

  He cocked a black eyebrow at her. “You were lucky none of them wanted to relieve himself.”

  “Aye, I know it well,” and she shuddered at the thought.

  “You’re also lucky they didn’t poison the well so you could clean yourself up after your stay in the jakes.”

  She smiled just a bit, and finished what was on her plank. Garron speared another steak for her. “It is odd not to hear children’s voices. None survived?”

  “Some managed to escape and hide in the forest.” What was the forest’s name? She couldn’t remember. “The Black Demon’s men were merciless. When they couldn’t find the silver, the Black Demon was enraged and encouraged his soldiers to kill, and so they did. The young girls they didn’t kill, they took with them, as you know.

  “I never realized how the laughter of children filled the air, but now, there’s only silence. It’s a fearful thing. Mayhap by killing or taking the children, the Black Demon wanted to erase the future of Wareham.”

  “Aye,” he said thoughtfully, and wondered for perhaps the dozenth time why Arthur had stolen the man’s silver and brought it here to Wareham. Hadn’t he realized this Black Demon knew who he was? “I see you are not as thin and gaunt as the others.”

  Her brain went blank. She shrugged. “I was heavy. I had flesh to lose.”

  She saw clearly on his lean face that he didn’t believe her. What else didn’t he believe? She added quickly, “Did you come from London?”

  He chewed, swallowed. “Aye. I was in the king’s service. It was he who told me my brother Arthur had died and I was now the Earl of Wareham. However, the king had not yet heard of this—Retribution. Do you know the Black Demon’s real name?”

  She shook her head. “Mayhap another will know, but I do not.”

  “No one appears to know. Very well. What do you know of my brother? What sort of master was he? Did you know about the silver coins he’d stolen?”

  “No one knew anything about it. I know only that the Black Demon was powerful and deadly. I am sorry, my lord, but mayhap others, once their bellies are filled, will be able to tell you more.”

  He chewed slowly as he looked out over the great hall, watching his people finally eating their fill. He wouldn’t be surprised to see them licking the juices off the planks. A fine idea, these makeshift tables, and probably hers. “Everything looks better. The filthy rushes are gone from the floor, and it seems some of the stone floor was washed as well.” He paused a moment, then added, “There is something else as well. The very air feels different. It no longer seems to weigh down on my head.”

  “That is because it no longer smells bleak.”

  She’d put his thoughts into excellent words. “Aye, that’s it.”

  “There is still so much to be done. Everyone was so very weak, I didn’t want to risk anyone collapsing. Tomorrow, everyone will be stronger, and we will accomplish more.”

  He watched her lick the steak juice from her fingers. “How did my brother treat you, the priest’s bastard?”

  He watched her lick her fingers frantically.

  11

  Her father had always told her she had quick wits. Prove it, prove it. “He ignored me for the most part. It was his wife, Lady Anne, who was kind to both my father and me, who taught me housekeeping.”

  Arthur ignored her? He looked at her beautiful red hair, at the thick plaits wrapped around her head and threaded with a green ribbon. He looked at her dark blue eyes, and her white skin, her white teeth. The older brother he remembered wouldn’t have ignored her; mayhap when she was a child, but not now, not in the past several years. Come to think of it, no breathing man would ignore her. Garron looked over at the four remaining boar steaks on the plank of wood in front of him. He was full, he realized, but he knew Pali was always hungry, his long legs empty until he’d stuffed himself with enough food for three fat women, Gilpin would say, then run before Pali could clout him.

  He pointed his knife at Pali and the meat. “I can hear your knees knocking together, Pali. They still sound hollow. Feed them.”

  He turned back to the girl seated cross-legged beside him. “How old are you?”

  “I am eighteen.”

  “How old were you when you arrived at Wareham?”

  “Twelve.”

  So Arthur had watched her grow into a woman. He’d ignored her? Not likely.

  “How old are you, my lord?”

  “I am just turned twenty-four in April. Do you know how to make soap?”

  She grinned. “Aye, I can make soap. I will put it at the beginning of my list.”

  He could but stare at her. He was the only living being he knew who made lists. A dark eyebrow shot up. “You make lists?”

  She sounded proud as a peahen as she said, “I am the grandest listmaker in Christendom, so my father told me. Unfortunately, lists are much better when they are written down, and thus cannot be easily forgotten. We have no parchment and no ink.”

  “Put them on your list, with the soap.”

  She smiled. “And candles,” she added, then sighed, “and so much more. Everything is destroyed. Everything.”

  “Your gown isn’t.”

  “There is a hidey hole in your bed
chamber, my lord. Lisle had hidden some of Lady Anne’s clothing there.”

  “Is your belly full?”

  “Oh aye. It’s a fine thing.”

  He turned to Aleric. “The king needs to know of our plight. Have Hobbs ride back to London tomorrow and speak to Robert Burnell. He recites accounts accurately, he is fluent, even when he has drunk enough to piss full a lake. We must have soldiers to guard Wareham against this Black Demon should he decide to come again to search for the silver. I am hopeful the king will agree and send us some men.”

  How she had heard him from at least twenty feet away, Garron had no idea, but not an instant later, Miggins shouted, “Tupper believes we can call upon Lord Severin of Oxborough for aid. ’Tis wealthy he is, with land and men and goods. He’s closer than London. He did not like Lord Arthur, but he doesn’t know you, my lord.”

  “Aye, he does,” Garron called back.

  “Does he hate ye?”

  “No, he does not. I will consider this, thank you, Miggins.” But he knew he needed the king, his backing and protection.

  He wiped his knife on his tunic as he said to Merry, “How long was Lord Arthur dead before the Black Demon came?”

  Garron didn’t miss her quick look toward Miggins, who promptly shouted, “Four days, my lord.”

  Tupper called out, “Aye, barely four days. We buried him with all honor, my lord, all his men surrounding his grave.”

  “Few wept,” Miggins said with no hesitation at all since she knew she had an old retainer’s privilege. “Lord Arthur abused Lady Anne, and all liked her.”

  His brother abused his wife? He’d known about his brother’s rages, but he hadn’t known his brother was the kind of man who hurt women, though many thought nothing of striking those weaker than them. So, he’d been dead four days before the Retribution. Garron wondered if the Black Demon would have killed and destroyed even if he’d managed to find the silver. Probably so.

  What his brother had or hadn’t done, none of it mattered at this moment. What mattered was Wareham. Garron looked out again over his great hall, and felt suddenly blessed. Since people’s bellies were full, it meant once again there’d be life to live and friends to argue with. There was noise. But no children.