The Warrior and the Dove - A Short Novel (Medieval Chronicles)

by Julia Byrne

  “What manner of man would do such a thing?” she wondered aloud.

  His mouth quirked. “A man with too much power, little maid. Such abuses are common. Why do you think Simon de Montfort gathered so many to his army? He was the hero of the common folk, who’d had no voice until he spoke for them. But power went to his head, also, and it seems when that happens, common sense is evicted.”

  “But when Lord Corbel refused to act, could not the people of Crofton have applied to the King?”

  He sent her a curious glance. “King Henry has been a captive of de Montfort since the Battle of Lewes last year, used as a puppet king until we rescued him during the fighting at Evesham. Besides, though Henry is a good man, that doesn’t mean he’s a strong ruler. He is not his grandfather, the great law-maker, Henry II, nor does he resemble his lion-hearted uncle. But Prince Edward believes in justice. He’ll see matters put right over time.”

  “I knew nothing of what was happening here,” she murmured. “Poor Master Purcell must have been among the victims.”

  “How could you know?” he asked. “You told me, yourself, that you came to stay with Master Fletcher only a few days ago.”

  “Oh… Oh… So I did.” And now that intent scrutiny was back, causing her to stutter like a fool. Just when she’d been feeling more at ease with him.

  “In what relationship does he stand to you, mistress?”

  “A…a cousin. Very distant.” When he continued to study her, she wondered if guilt at the lie was emblazoned across her face. The suspense was too much, it was better to know.

  “Why?”

  To her relief he glanced away. “I would like speech with him,” he said. And immediately threw her into turmoil again.

  What did he mean by that? He didn’t know her. She was sure of it. No amount of blows to the head would make her forget a man like Hugh de Verney. But why did he want speech with Martin? Did he suspect something wasn’t right? Even if he did, why would he care?

  “Martin and Herleve have been very good to me,” she said, in case he was thinking otherwise. “I would be lost without them.”

  That was certainly the truth.

  “’Tis clear they’re diligent in their care of you,” he murmured, and indicated the house a few doors down, where Martin was looking out to see if she was on her way home.

  “Annith.” Martin glanced curiously at her escort when they reached him. “I told Herleve you could hardly fall into danger between here and the church, but she took to fretting. I was about to set out in search of you.”

  “No danger at all,” Annith said, forcing a smile, “with my lord de Verney accompanying me. In truth, I think everyone we passed gave us a wide berth.” Actually, she couldn’t remember passing anyone. What with her senses torn between fascination with Hugh and the fleeting glimpses of her past, she’d had no attention to spare for anything else.

  “My lord.” Martin indicated the room behind him. “Will you come in and accept our thanks with a cup of ale?”

  “I will, with pleasure,” Hugh said, and ushered Annith through the doorway.

  Herleve was already bustling in from the kitchen, a tray laden with ale mugs in her hands, but alert and ready to whisk her charge away. “You won’t mind sitting here in the shop, my lord?” she asked.

  Annith stared at her, wondering why they weren’t entertaining their guest in the solar. She saw Hugh smile slightly.

  “Not at all, Mistress Fletcher.” He accepted a mug of ale and used it to indicate a pile of shafts and arrowheads on the bench in front of the window. “’Tis Master Fletcher’s work I wish to discuss with him. I understand you supply the castle garrison,” he continued, turning to Martin.

  “Aye, that I do,” Martin replied. “There are good fletchers in Gloucester and Worcester, of course, but I’m the only one in these parts, and there are plenty of manors to keep me busy.” He exchanged a glance with Herleve that had Hugh looking sharply from one to the other. “In fact, I was away near to Evesham a few days ago, making a delivery.”

  “Then your work must be well-known and valued. Do you have time to return with me to the castle? I would have you meet Sir Ranulf fitzWalter, who will be constable here when I return to my lands near Hereford.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Martin said with alacrity. He drained his mug, placed it on the tray, and reached for his mantle in one quick movement. “I am at your service.”

  Annith saw Hugh’s brows rise at Martin’s readiness to be gone, but he merely finished his ale and handed the cup to Herleve with a word of thanks.

  “Mistress Annith.” He held out his hand. Her heart immediately started leaping about again. All this exercise couldn’t be good for it; there was certainly no benefit to her nerves. And she couldn’t just let him stand there with his hand extended while she dithered.

  “Thank you for your escort, my lord,” she managed to say, and placed her hand in his.

  He closed his fingers about hers and smiled straight into her eyes. “Thank you for your company, mistress. I have seldom spent a more interesting morning.” He raised her hand to his lips, held it there for several heart-shaking seconds, and released her.

  Annith seized the tray, turned, and fled into the kitchen.

  Two minutes later, with Herleve blushing and bridling from the outrageous flattery Hugh had bestowed upon her on leaving, Annith watched from the shop window as he and Martin walked off together toward the south gate and the castle. She still had a mountain of questions casting a dark shadow over her, but at least one had been answered.

  At the touch of Hugh’s firm mouth against her fingers, a sharp tingle of pleasure had darted through her all the way to her toes.

  * * *

  Hugh studied the man beside him as they crossed the bridge. The protectiveness Martin and his wife had shown toward Annith meant that he would have to be very clear about his intentions, and they probably wouldn’t believe him even then. Not that it mattered. The deed itself would convince them, and that deed would be carried out. No matter what obstacles they put in his way.

  “Master Fletcher,” he began, “’tis true you should meet Ranulf fitzWalter, but that is not the reason I asked you to accompany me. I believe you stand in place of a father to your cousin, Annith.”

  A shuttered look immediately descended on Martin’s face. After seeing that exchange between husband and wife earlier, Hugh had expected it. There was a mystery here all right, and it concerned his lady. Which made it his business.

  “You could say that,” Martin said slowly.

  “Then you need to know that I wish to marry her.”

  “Wha—” Martin came to a dead stop and stared at him, mouth agape. “You wish to marry Annith?” he demanded after several seconds.

  “Aye.”

  “But—” Martin stopped again, clearly lost for words.

  Hugh decided to help him out. “I would speak to her directly, but she knows little of me as yet. And, seemingly, little of men,” he added thoughtfully, remembering her astonishment at the smallest of compliments, her hesitation in touching him. “I know she is young—”

  Martin waved his hands wildly, gesturing him to silence. Hugh raised his brows, but the fletcher faced him squarely and made no apology. He was to be respected for it.

  “Why marriage?” he asked bluntly. “Let us be open about how such matters stand, my lord. A man of your station is more likely to take a fletcher’s girl as his mistress.”

  “I think you know she’s more than that,” Hugh said quietly.

  “Mayhap.” Martin brooded for a moment before squaring his shoulders. “My lord, before we discuss this further—and if we do, there will be much to discuss—I must speak to Annith. I cannot answer for her.”

  “I’m not asking you to propose for me, Martin. I can do that, myself.”

  “’Tis not that, sir.” Martin shook his head. “And I cannot say more. This touches too heavily on her. If you are asking for my blessing, let me have until tomor
row before I answer you.”

  Hugh eyed him narrowly. “Then I’m right. She’s in some sort of trouble.”

  Martin just looked at him.

  “I thought so.” Hugh met the fletcher’s look with a commanding one of his own. “Martin, I intend to marry Annith. Whatever trouble she’s in, telling me will bring no harm to her, or to you and Herleve. You have my oath on it.”

  When still no answer was forthcoming, he made an impatient sound. “Has she sworn you to silence?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then there is no impediment, man! Do you truly believe I would hurt so innocent and gentle a girl? ’Tis my desire to protect her.”

  For a minute he thought nothing would sway the fletcher, but finally Martin gave a sigh of capitulation. “Then it seems I must trust you, my lord. And may God strike me down if I’m wrong.”

  “That won’t happen,” Hugh said firmly. “Tell me!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Another silence fell, but this time Hugh let it stand. It was obvious that Martin was trying to decide where to start. Mayhap Annith was being pestered by an over-zealous youth who wouldn’t take nay for an answer. Or, more worrying for one of Martin’s station, a local land-holder was stalking her with no honorable intent.

  “I suppose the first thing to admit is that Annith is no relation to me or to Herleve,” Martin said at last.

  “I had already surmised as much,” Hugh told him. “How is it that she lives with you?”

  “I found her lying senseless in the forest,” Martin said simply. And Hugh felt his blood turn to ice.

  “How badly was she injured?” he rapped out, and had to force the next words past the sudden constriction in his chest. “Were there any signs of rape?”

  When Martin shook his head, Hugh closed his eyes briefly in relief.

  “Nay, my lord. Herleve undressed her and bathed her as best she could. There was a lump on the back of her head, and some blood, as if she’d fallen and hit something, or been struck. But there was no bruising on her legs, where… Well, you know.”

  “Only too well,” Hugh said grimly. “Go on. When did this happen?”

  “’Twas the day I returned from Evesham,” Martin continued. “The day of your fight with Corbel and his men, although I didn’t know it, then. Dusk was falling, but I’d been on the road since noon and wanted to get home, so I took the short way through the forest. I was alert, as you can imagine, travelling alone, and just as well, for she wasn’t in plain sight. If she hadn’t made a sound I’d have passed by, but I heard something that sounded like an animal in pain, so I searched.”

  He fell silent before making a small gesture as though re-living the moment. “There she was. Lying on the ground, covered in dirt and leaves. It looked as though she had crawled through the undergrowth before she collapsed. ’Tis getting dense now with the trees losing their leaves. I could barely make out her face, and she was wearing boy’s clothes but—”

  “What?”

  Martin nodded. “Aye, cotte and hose, a hooded mantle. Good quality, too. But I could see ’twas a girl lying there. Her hair was in one of those long braids, as it is today, and she’d coiled it up beneath the hood, but it must have fallen back when she’d gone through the forest.”

  “Boy’s clothes.” Hugh frowned. “She couldn’t have been with Corbel’s youths. ’Tis inconceivable.”

  “Nay. I wondered that, myself. But I’ve lived here all my life, my lord. I know this district for miles around, and its people. I’ve never seen her before.”

  Hugh remembered the cautious way Annith had studied the men-at-arms yesterday. “Then the other possibility is that she’s running from something.”

  Martin looked startled. “From the law?”

  “Nay. I doubt yonder maid is capable of ill thought, let alone deed.”

  “What does that matter?” demanded Martin. “Look at what passed for the law in these parts. Innocent folk threatened with imprisonment for crimes they didn’t commit unless they paid off the accuser.”

  “True. But the castellan will be punished and a good man has replaced him. One of my own knights. Be content, and finish your tale.”

  “Aye, my lord. In truth, there is little more to tell. I put the lass over my shoulder and took her home. What else could I do? I’d no idea there’d been a battle nearby. All was quiet. But I wouldn’t have taken her to Corbel’s manor in any case, though ’twas nearer. That was no place for a girl out of her senses. She was safer with Herleve and me.”

  “And I thank God for your good sense,” Hugh muttered.

  “Better that than the scolding I would have received from Herleve if I’d done else,” Martin said with an unexpected grin. He sobered quickly. “But what would drive a gently-born girl, which anyone can see she is, to be out in the world, alone?”

  “You haven’t asked her?”

  “As soon as she woke,” Martin answered. “She remembers naught. Not even her name. We asked, but all she got out was something that sounded like An-at.” Martin shook his head. “If you had seen the terror that crossed her face when she realized she knew nothing… Poor little dove. ’Tis how we think of her,” he explained with a smile. “For her gentle ways. Herleve suggested we call her Annith and she agreed.”

  Hugh nodded thoughtfully. “Given the situation at the castle I can understand why you didn’t make a report there, but why didn’t you go to Father Robert?”

  “We mentioned it, but the child begged and pleaded with us to stay silent until her memory returned. How could we gainsay her? She seemed in terror for her life. So we put it about that she was distant kin who had come to visit us.”

  “A good tale, but that can’t continue.”

  “I know it,” Martin agreed. “I suppose we could notify the Sheriff at Worcester now Annith is back on her feet, but I think the very suggestion will throw her into a panic. What if she should run again? We can’t keep her confined.”

  “Nay, I won’t have her fettered or afraid. Besides, you’ve told me now. Even if you went to the Sheriff, he would hand the matter back to me as the King’s agent here. Rest assured you’ve done right, should anyone challenge your actions.”

  “What will you do, my lord?”

  “I’ll think on that, but first I must speak with Annith. Tell her I’ll be there tomorrow morning, if you think it necessary to give her notice. Meanwhile…” Hugh gripped the man’s shoulder briefly. “I’m grateful beyond words to you and Herleve, Martin. There will always be a place for you on my lands, if you wish it. And if you ever need help, you have only to send word.”

  “Well, I dare say Herleve would enjoy a nice little cottage in the country,” Martin muttered, looking somewhat overwhelmed. “And God knows we love the girl already like one of our own. ’Twould be good to be near her one day.”

  “And so you shall be,” Hugh said easily. “Come. There’s still time to talk to fitzWalter about arrows and such like. You and I shall meet again tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Annith was pacing the solar floor when she heard the knock on the door the following morning. Predictably her heart picked up its pace. Before she managed to administer a stern rebuke, Herleve was ushering Hugh into the room.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” she said with a smile, and left them.

  Annith looked up at him. She felt as though she was seeing him with new eyes. As if the knowledge that he was there to speak with her, only with her, had awoken something that she had been unaware of until this moment. She was suddenly, acutely, aware that she was female. And that Hugh de Verney was very much a man.

  And yet he looked no different, she thought, puzzled. He still wore his warrior’s garb. There was no sword this morning, but a sheathed dagger rode on his left hip. He looked big and powerful and supremely capable. And this was the man who, according to Martin, had some interest in her? It didn’t make sense.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning, my lord,” sh
e murmured. And as though his voice had broken some sort of spell, she noticed his head was bent slightly to avoid the low-beamed ceiling. She smiled suddenly, more at ease, and indicated the settle to one side of the fireplace. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I would,” he said with such dry emphasis she had to laugh. “I see now why Dame Herleve didn’t bring me in here yesterday. And to think I suspected her of putting me in my place.”

  “This room was not made for a man of your size,” she agreed, as she seated herself. Humor promptly deserted her, however, when Hugh sat down close enough to touch her. He turned slightly so he could rest one arm along the back of the settle behind her.

  “Has Martin told you why I’m here?” he asked.

  She nodded. “He told you how he found me and brought me here, and said that you want to help.”

  “Hmm. Apparently he didn’t mention the most important matter, which is my desire to make you my wife.”

  Her eyes went so round she felt as if they eclipsed her entire face. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

  “You wish to marry me?” she finally gasped in a voice from which all strength had fled. All the strength seemed to have left her body as well. She felt weightless, as if she might float away if she didn’t grab hold of something solid.

  Unfortunately, the only handy object was Hugh.

  His mouth kicked up at one corner. “I told Martin I didn’t need him to propose for me, but it seems I might have been wrong about that.”

  “But...” She shook her head, as if that might jolt her wits into comprehension. “You’re a baron, you have lands. You don’t even know who I am.”

  “Your name, nay. But I know you are compassionate and gentle. I know you have spirit and courage.” He moved suddenly, going down on one knee before her and clasping her hands with his, like a knight swearing a vow of allegiance. “Mistress Annith, I know this has come as a surprise, but I want nothing more than to cherish and protect you always. Will you honor me with your hand in marriage?”