by Ruth Kaufman
Echo marveled at how this young boy’s name rolled off Garrett’s tongue so easily, but he had yet to call her son anything other than the boy.
“Lady Perdita, I’d like you to take my son into your care while I am in residence.”
“Of course, my lord,” she answered.
“Nay,” protested Echo. “I can take care of Edgar.”
“Nay, wife, for now I have other plans for you. Now let Lady Perdita see to the boy.”
“Come along,” the woman said, holding out her hand to little Edgar. “Would you like to play with my son, Tristan?”
He looked up to his mother and she paused. But when Echo noticed the stern look upon Garrett’s face, she looked down to her son and nodded slightly.
“I would,” said Edgar, reaching out and taking the lady’s hand.
As soon as they left, Garrett took Echo by the elbow and escorted her to his solar. “I don’t think I need to tell you that if we want to keep your identity a secret, we have to play the part.”
“Ye tricked me into marrying ye. I don’t like that!”
“I did it for the boy,” he said. “If we are married, they will be less apt to take him away.”
“Ye did it for who? Let me hear ye say his name.”
They stopped outside the open door to the solar where the servants were filling the tub with hot water inside.
“Excellent,” said Garrett, nodding to the servants. “And so fast. I like that.”
“Well?” She crossed her arms and waited. “What is his name?”
Garrett knew he couldn’t ignore the fact he was avoiding saying the child’s name. But it hurt too much every time he heard it, knowing he would never see his younger brother again, and also knowing he was to blame.
“I can’t,” he told her.
“Do it,” she said. “If ye don’t, I refuse te be yer wife.”
“And if I call him by his name, you’ll be my wife willingly and not fight me?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “But I don’t know if I really have a choice since the deed is already done.”
“Not entirely,” he mumbled, glancing over to the bed, letting her know exactly what he meant. “All right. The boy’s name is . . .”
“I can’t hear ye,” she said. “A little louder, please.”
He knew she played the same game with him he’d just played with her.
“His name is . . . ”
“What did ye say? Louder.”
“Gar!” he exclaimed. “His name is Gar.” He smiled in satisfaction. “Aye, ’tis a lot like Garrett. I like that.”
“Wrong,” she said. “And I am no longer yer wife.” She turned and entered the room, leaving Garrett standing there. If only it were that simple, he thought. But she was his wife, like it or not, and he didn’t feel good about tricking her into it.
Still, he knew she would have never agreed to it if he had told her his plan beforehand. This was their only chance. He couldn’t lose Edgar – the last remnant of his beloved brother. And though he couldn’t bring himself to tell her – he had grown fond of her and didn’t want to lose her either.
“Is something the matter my lord?” Sir Jacob asked, instructing the servants to finish up.
“My wife just has the wedding jitters,” he told him. “Please see to it a lady-in-waiting is assigned to her anon. Have her bring proper attire for my wife and also instruct her how to bathe, as I doubt she has any idea.”
“If I may say, Lord Garrett, your wife is not a lady of which I’ve ever had . . . the pleasure . . . of meeting before. And she is clothed in men’s attire, of all things. I guess I just don’t understand why.”
“Aye,” answered Garrett trying to think of something – anything – that wouldn’t cause suspicion. “My wife is . . . distraught . . . since the death of my brother. She does not always think clearly. I have taken her into my care personally. So I am sure she shall be back to normal soon.”
“I see,” he answered. “And although I don’t know you well, since you are new to Hythe, my lord, I can’t say I remember you mentioning your brother was ever married.”
“I didn’t,” he replied. “My brother was a very private person.”
Sir Jacob looked across the room, and Garrett’s eyes followed. Echo was lying upon the bed, her booted feet crossed, tossing his prized gold-plated chalice given to him by the king himself, up and down and catching it. A smile was plastered across her face.
“Aye, my lord,” Sir Jacob answered. “I can understand that perfectly.”
Chapter 10
Echo lounged back upon the plush bed feeling like a queen. So this is where Garrett slept. The room was large enough to sleep all of her father’s crew, the bed big enough alone to sleep three people comfortably. She tossed the golden chalice up and down, thinking ’twould be a mighty treasure to bring this back to her father. He’d be very pleased with this, as it had the Cinque Ports emblem engraved upon it. It must be worth a small fortune. That would feed the crew of the Seahawk for quite a long time.
She got off the bed, descending the two stairs that held it elevated from everything else in the room. She ran her hand over the red velvet bed curtains tied at the corners, and shook her head. What would they think of next? Her crew would be happy if they found a dry spot on the deck out of rain in which to sleep. And her father would love these curtains, and most likely wear them as a cape of some sort.
She walked to the window, pulling open the shutters, sunlight and fresh air filling the dank, dark room.
She drew in a deep breath, thinking of how she missed the sea air in her face and the wind through her hair. Still, she didn’t miss the way her father and his men tortured and killed others needlessly.
“I am here to help the baron’s new wife bathe and dress,” came a voice from the door. She turned abruptly to see a girl not much older than herself standing there. “Boy, would you know where I can find Lady Echo?”
Echo looked around the room to see the last of the servants exiting. She was the only other one there, and realized the woman thought she was a boy by her attire.
“I am Echo,” she said, not able to call herself by her titled name yet. She didn’t deserve it – or mayhap she did now that she was married to a lord, but she still wasn’t used to it at all.
The girl looked at her with a stern disposition. “Page, I will tell Lord Garrett and he will see to it you are whipped and put in the stocks for playing such an ill-mannered jest.”
Echo took her cap from her head, releasing her long hair. She threw the cap on the bed and folded her arms in front of her.
“Call me a boy again an’ I’ll have ye whipped and thrown in the stocks m’self.”
“Oh, I apologize,” said the girl, taken aback, as she curtsied over and over again.
Echo almost liked this new power that came with the title of being Lord Garrett’s wife. Still, she didn’t like to see fear on the girl’s face.
“What is your name?” asked Echo.
“’Tis Lady Eirian,” she replied.
“So ye are Welsh?”
“I am, my lady.”
“So am I.”
“My lady, if you don’t mind me saying, you look more English than Welsh.”
“My father is Welsh. Powell ap Llyr. Cap’n Powell of the . . . ” She stopped, realizing just what she was saying.
“Oh, so he is a vassal of the king as well? Is he a captain of one of the Cinque Ports ships?”
Echo froze. She’d given away information she shouldn’t have. Garrett would kill her if he knew what she’d just said.
“Nay, not exactly,” she said. “He’s dead, and I don’t want to speak of it, again. ’Tis too hard, so please don’t mention it – to anyone.”
“Of course not, my lady. I have been sent to see to your needs while you are here. Lord Garrett said he wants you bathed and dressed like a lady and ready to join him for the midday meal at once.”
She wanted to disobey any order given by Ga
rrett, but the steaming water looked inviting. And though she’d often bathed in the ocean, she had never had the pleasure of sitting in a barrel tub to bathe. Her clothing was wet and dirty, and though she didn’t really mind, she wondered what it would feel like to wear the clothes like the ladies of the manor. Food was something she could use right now too, as she couldn’t remember the last time she ate a real meal.
“All right,” she said, walking over to the tub, spying the herbs and rose petals floating atop the water. She almost laughed aloud, thinking it looked more like one of the soups Sebastian sometimes made for the crew. She missed the man, and she also missed Skye, and wondered if the bird would follow her here. She hoped so. She hurriedly removed her clothing while her maid picked up the soiled clothes she threw on the floor. Then she slipped into the hot tub with a smile on her face. A smile until Lady Eirian started scrubbing her arm with a harsh smelling substance.
“What is that?” she asked, spying the soft white substance in the girl’s hand that reminded her of lard.
Lady Eirian muffled a laugh. “’Tis soap, my lady. You act as if you’ve never seen it before.”
Suddenly Echo felt very out of place. Soap was something she didn’t know if she’d ever get used to.
Garrett stood at the hearth with a cold tankard of ale in his grip. Sir Jacob, Sir Dwight, and Lord Andrew from Essex joined him. His manor housed these men and their wives and children, and several more of his knights and their families as well. But right now the manor was mostly empty, except for the servants. Most his soldiers were on the Cinque Ports ships along with the portsmen from the village that had left for the herring festival in Great Yarmouth. They wouldn’t return for at least a fortnight. With over one hundred of his combined crew gone, it made a dense hole in the male population.
He only wished he was there with them. The great herring shoals that arrive in Great Yarmouth each autumn would be abundant right now. The revenue the catch would bring in for his demesne would let him sit comfortably upon his dais chair well until next season.
“A toast to you and your new wife,” said Lord Andrew raising his goblet in the air.
“Aye,” added the two knights following suit.
Garrett raised his tankard as well, wishing instead that he held his prized golden goblet given to him by the king. But that was being tossed around in the air right now by his pirate wife, who was probably having thoughts of hiding it down her bodice and sneaking out the door.
“Tell us, Baron Garrett,” said Sir Dwight. “Where did you really find that gem of a wife of yours?”
Gem. She was probably pilfering through his foot trunk right about now looking for buried treasure as well. He never should have left her in his chamber without a chaperone and only a handmaiden at her side.
“I told you – she was my brother’s wife.”
“And from which shire did she come?” asked Lord Andrew. “Which baron or lord was her father?”
How could he answer that question? That she came from Pilfershire and was the daughter of the mighty Lord Pirate himself?
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said. “I think I should check to see what is keeping this new wife of mine so long.”
He hadn’t walked but two steps before he saw her enter the great hall with her lady-in-waiting at her side.
He may not have even recognized her at first, until he heard the curses spewing from her mouth.
“God’s toes these damned sleeves are so long I’m trippin’ on ’em!”
He stopped in his tracks and almost dropped the tankard from his grip. The ale spilled on him, and with a fast brush of his hand he wiped it off his tunic.
“Sweet Jesu, she’s beautiful,” he replied under his breath.
She stood there in the entrance, more beautiful than he’d ever thought a pirate lady could look. Instead of her layered, dirtied and torn tunics and worn chausses and old boots, she donned the clothes of a lady. A pure white gown with a tight bodice and eyelet lace led to a long, flowing silk skirt. Fitted, long sleeves of white silk and gold trim reached down to the tips of her knuckles. And long, transparent white tippets also trimmed in gold hung from her elbows to the floor. A beaded girdle of pearls sat low on her hips, with, of course, a dagger attached to her waist.
Her hair was clean and shiny, and coiled in a long braid wrapped in a circle at the back of her head. Her head was crowned by a simple metal circlet of silver and gold. And around her neck, of all things, was the obnoxious metal circular necklace that marked her as the daughter of a pirate. The only thing that brought him back to his senses of who she really was after all.
“My lord, did you want me to escort her to dais?” asked his steward, Sir Jacob, “or were you planning on doing it sometime today?”
His men laughed at the jest, and he knew he must have been standing there gaping longer than he thought.
“Nay, I will escort my wife,” he said, shoving his tankard into the hands of Sir Jacob. “After all, ’tis my wedding day.”
Echo was still fussing with the tippets on her gown when he approached her and laid a hand on her arm. She looked up to him in surprise, her dark eyes looking more blue than black for the first time since he’d met her.
“My wife,” he said with a smile. He picked up her hand and kissed it. The inhabitants of the great hall shouted out and cheered for the newly married couple. Instead of smelling like rum, she smelled from rosewater and lavender. He didn’t know she had such smooth skin, or that her hair held such a lustrous shine. Beneath the dirt and salt of the sea was a very beautiful and alluring lady indeed.
“What the hell are they all lookin’ at?” she grumbled, her eyes scanning the occupants of the hall. “Haven’t they ever seen a girl in a dress b’fore?”
Garrett could tell she felt uncomfortable and was very self-conscious.
“By the way, I want my sword back, too,” she said. “I feel naked without it.”
Just the word naked had his mind racing in a whole new direction. They were married now. Tonight he would take her to his wedding bed, and naked they would be - together. His loins ached just thinking about it, and he knew he should think of something else before a bulge was seen beneath his tunic.
“A sword is hardly the weapon of a lady. You have a dagger, that is plenty.”
“A dagger is too small, I like a bigger weapon.”
His mind soared and he knew she wasn’t thinking of the same thing as him at the moment.
“I want my sword,” she said. “You know as well as I, that I am not a lady. So why should it matter?”
“You are my wife now, Echo, and a lady you shall be, if I have to see to it every step of the way.”
Before she could object, he placed her hand under his arm to make sure she wouldn’t leave, and walked her to the raised dais, where the nobility sat to eat.
“You will sit next to me, at the spot reserved for the lady of the castle.”
“I thought ye said ’twas a manor, not a castle.”
“Same difference,” he said, “in this instance.”
“Make up yer mind. If ye want me te stick with a story, quit changing it.”
Garrett motioned for the members of the hall to sit, and the kitchen servants brought out platters of food and laid them on the table.
“Good, I’m starved!” Echo reached out for some food but Garrett quickly stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
“The priest will lead us in a prayer to bless our meal,” he announced to the hall. “Father Gabriel, if you’d please.”
He held her hand tightly through the prayer, not sure at all she wasn’t going to shake him off or wrestle him to the ground in the process.
Then he let go of her hand, and once again it shot out toward the platter. He stopped her, and she looked up to him in frustration.
“Now what?” she asked. “I’ve already gotten married by a priest and had my food blessed all in one day. Are ye goin’ ta say I need te confess my sins next b’fore I eat?”
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“Nay,” answered Garrett, “we don’t have enough time for that. The meal is meant to be eaten today, not next week. But you need to wash your hands before you eat.”
“I just washed in the tub!” she exclaimed.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, “and I assure you it is noticed and appreciated. Still, this is a formality among the nobles.”
He took her hands and held them over a washbasin that a page brought forth. When the page poured the cold water over her hands, she jumped and tried to pull away.
“You won’t melt,” he told her, following suit. He then took the drying cloth from the page and used it in drying her hands for her.
Echo didn’t know what to think of Lord Garrett and his noble ways. Praying, and washing hands was something not practiced by pirates. And taking a bath in a tub was a luxury indeed. She watched him slowly drying her hands, liking the way it felt. She was sure this shouldn’t take as long as it was lasting, and even more certain it didn’t involve the way he caressed her hands in the process. She felt a warmth in her chest, and a tenderness in his touch. She looked up to him and realized that while she had bathed, he too, had cleaned up and changed his clothing.
He had shaved and washed his hair, and he looked very handsome. He donned a multi-colored surcoat over his tunic and hose, in the colors of blue and red. Four squares on his chest boasted two each of the Cinque Ports crest of golden lions and what she guessed was his own family crest of two stags surrounding a shield and a sword. His eyes devoured her. Did he think she wouldn’t notice? He obviously liked what he saw as well.
“Alright then,” she said, are there any more rituals before we get te eat?”
“Just one,” he said.
The crowd chanted together louder and louder a word she could decipher clearly. “Kiss, kiss, kiss,” they chanted, and Echo’s eyes opened wide as she looked back to him.
“What would that be?”
“We need to have a simple kiss, and then drink from our wedding cup.”
“Kiss? What for?” Her stomach felt like butterflies inside, and her mouth went dry. She moistened her lips with her tongue, and saw him staring at her mouth.