Trusting in Faith - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 5)

by Shea,Lisa

  Rachel took the message with a sigh and unrolled it, quickly scanning the words. She tossed it back onto the table, going back to her meal. “He wants to see me again. I guess he cannot take a hint.”

  Her mother smiled at her father, then leant forward with a teasing glance. “Oh, but Rachel, one hears that he is very rich …”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “He must be, what, fifteen years older than me! I would wear him out in a week!”

  Mathilde tenderly patted her husband’s arm. “Not all mature men are so easily worn down,” she chuckled. “However, Seth lives in London, right? That is rather far away – and then there are the various exigencies of city life …”

  Rachel lit up. “I would love to live in London! The excitement, the taverns … but to live with Seth?” She turned to grin at her sister. “Remember the last time he came to visit us a month ago? His hands were so weak, it was like being touched by a cold fish. Could you imagine being caressed by those hands?” She shivered.

  Sarah winked at her mother. “I am sure you could get used to anything, given the right motivation …”

  Rachel shook her head. “Not me!” She took a last bite of her roll, then stood. “Well, I am off; be sure not to wait up for me tonight!” She gave Sarah a quick hug, then practically skipped out the front door.

  Christopher shook his head to his wife, chuckling. “I wonder if this musician knows what he is in for,” he commented wryly. “I suppose we shall hear all about it tomorrow. Then again, depending on how well it goes, perhaps we will not hear a word …” He motioned to Cedric, and the man slipped out the door, following after Rachel.

  Mathilde smiled, twining her hand into her husband’s. “Ah, to be young again. Do you remember how we used to sneak out to dance any chance we could? How we would be up until the wee hours of the morning, singing and laughing with our friends?”

  Christopher nodded. “I do, well. Youth is fleeting. Rachel should enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Sarah watched her sister go, then sat back to take a long drink. “Why does she keep encouraging Seth to come and visit, if she is so sure she does not like him? Is that not unfair to Seth?”

  Mathilde chuckled, looking fondly at her older daughter. “You never quite understood this about women in general, and your sister in particular,” she teased. “It is not all about what the woman does! Rachel is not the only person involved in her flirtations. The men are not helpless thralls in her presence. If they choose to flirt with her, and to dally with her, it is because they enjoy it. Men do, in fact, have free will.”

  Sarah stared into her cup, morose. “It certainly does not seem that way sometimes,” she murmured half to herself.

  She saw Reynald and her father exchange an amused glance. Piqued, she finished off her drink, then stood. She nodded to her mother and headed out the main door.

  Sarah found it almost second nature to walk with Reynald out to the stables and saddle up their mounts. Even their horses seemed comfortable strolling side by side as they headed out toward the village of Market Lavington.

  Reynald looked over with gentle calm. “So, where are we going again?” He drew his eyes again to the quiet road. “Not that it really matters, on a day as lovely as this one.”

  “We are going to see my good friend Lily,” responded Sarah with a chuckle. “She makes the most beautiful pottery, and she specifically makes items to suit my needs for storing herbs and ointments.”

  “Did you meet her during one of your midwife tasks? Was she a young maid in need of a friend?” Reynald relaxed back into his saddle for the ride.

  Sarah burst out into peals of laughter, the thought amusing her greatly. A great joy bubbled up out of her, and she felt lighter than she had in many weeks. She knew Reynald was watching her, an odd, distant look in his eyes, but it took her a while to settle back down.

  After a few minutes, she was able to talk through her chuckles. “I am sorry, you will understand when you meet Lily,” she explained with a smile. “I believe she is in her late sixties, and she lives alone. She was married once, long ago, but her husband died in an accident just a few years after they were wed.”

  “She never remarried?” asked Reynald with curiosity, his gaze focused on the road ahead.

  Sarah shook her head. “She says she never found anybody else to tempt her,” she replied easily. “She and her husband had both loved pottery, and their home was filled with their implements and wares. When he passed away, she became a sole proprietor and perfected her art. The things she creates are awe inspiring.”

  Sarah grinned. “Lily says if she tried to bring a new man into her world now, there would literally be no room for him! Unless he showed up with naught but the clothes on his back, and a soul-deep desire to work with clay every day, it simply would not work out.”

  “Is she lonely, then?” wondered Reynald, “to be all alone for so many years?”

  Sarah shrugged. “She says she is not. She gets lost for hours in a project, and she has enough adoring fans to fill her evenings with conversation if she wishes. Other than that, you shall have to ask her yourself.”

  They rode on for a while in silence, and soon pulled up to a small but cozy cottage. The windows were lined with beautiful clay vases in a variety of styles, each holding a different type of bouquet. A large kiln behind the home sent a steady stream of smoke into the air.

  A white-haired woman with a strong frame came instantly to the door, gazing out at the pair. “Sarah, my dear, how lovely it is to see you!” She moved forward to take a hold of her horse’s bridle. “Come for your pots, I imagine. Who is this with you?”

  Sarah dismounted and gestured to Reynald. “Lily, this is my good friend, Reynald. He is a Knight Templar, and is staying with us while he works on something for his order.”

  “My, how dashing,” offered Lily with a smile, presenting her hand to be kissed. Reynald took it with a sweeping bow, gallantly pressing his lips to it.

  Lily’s eyes twinkled at the flirtation, and gave a courtly curtsy. “Well met, Sir Knight. Please do enter my abode.” She gestured with a large movement, ushering the pair into her home.

  Sarah glanced around at the crowded room. She felt as if she was in a museum each time she visited. Every corner and nook was being used to showcase some sort of an elegant bowl, delicately crafted urn, flower-filled vase, or decorative dish.

  Reynald gazed appreciatively at the items around him. “These are truly works of art,” he murmured. The objects were created with a variety of glazes, raised pieces, and patterns, so that no two were alike. Some were indigo and swirled like the ocean at night. Others were translucently thin, with white patterns interlaced with the natural creases of the clay.

  Lily blushed at the praise. “Sit, have some cheese and wine,” she offered, settling herself on a wide couch. She took a trio of elegant, sage-green cups down from a shelf behind her and laid them out, grabbing a bottle from beneath the couch to pour.

  Sarah sat beside her, cutting the hunk of cheese into smaller slices with deft movements of her knife. She nodded her thanks as Reynald passed her a trio of small plates on which to lay the pieces.

  Lily distributed the cups. “Here we go, one for each of you,” she instructed with a smile. “And now, a toast – to long life with health and happiness. For one is not of much value without the other two.” The trio clinked their mugs and drank down the wine.

  Sarah smiled in appreciation. “Delicious as always,” she congratulated. “Let me guess – blackberry wine?”

  Lily shook her head. “No, this was blueberry. It keeps me young!”

  Reynald took another sip of his wine before putting it down. “It is quite rich and very flavorful,” he commented. “I might buy a bottle or two from you, if you could spare them.”

  Lily smiled with pleasure. “Of course, I am always glad to share my bounty,” she offered cheerily. “And now, Sir Knight, if you could reach behind you, you will find the box with my young friend’s current it
ems.”

  Reynald dutifully looked for and located a medium-sized wooden box, which he carefully lifted with both hands and placed on the table before them. Sarah removed the lid with the expectant glow of a child on Christmas morning.

  “Oh, Lily, they are gorgeous,” gushed Sarah, reaching in to withdraw the small containers. They had been created with a forest green glaze, and the top handle of each pot’s lid was in a different shape. Of the first two she removed, one was an acorn, another a caterpillar with a hunched back. The items were made with exquisite detail.

  Reynald examined one lid which portrayed a small, speckled mushroom on its top. “You truly have an artist’s touch.”

  Lily smiled. “It can take me hours to get a single pot done properly,” she explained, “but the result is worth it, to see that look on Sarah’s face. Of course, she pays me, too,” she added, her face lighting up with mirth.

  Sarah turned one of the pots around in her hands. “I still think you should raise your prices again,” she insisted. “I have seen no finer work anywhere.”

  Lily looked around her. “What would I do with more money? My house holds what I make. I make as many items as I wish right now; I would not want to make them any more quickly. They sell out almost immediately. I enjoy what I eat; I enjoy what I drink.”

  Reynald took another sip of his wine. “You could always hire a helper, someone to keep you company,” he suggested.

  Lily glanced between the two, then merrily laughed again. “A helper would only drop my things and break them. Besides, I am rarely alone. You two are here now; others will be by in a few hours. I have friends coming and going all day long. My nights are blissfully quiet. If I had someone else here, undoubtedly they would snore!”

  Sarah looked up at her friend. “So you never thought about marrying again?”

  Lily shook her head. “Maybe for a moment or two, but never seriously. To tell the truth, the only thing I missed sometimes was being held. Just the contact of skin on skin, that someone cared for me. But soon I realized that many of my friends in the area had children, and then grandchildren. The tykes would be thrilled to sit in my lap for hours while I told them stories and listened to their tales. I think we both benefitted from the attention.”

  Sarah raised a toast to her. “I am sure you did.” She drank down the rest of her wine, and Reynald topped her glass off with a smile.

  Lily chuckled, waggling a finger at her friend. “Do not let that priest in Devizes see you overindulging in my wine, young Sarah. He was over picking up a new dish for his church last week, and when he spotted my horde of bottles, do you know what he said to me?”

  Sarah leant forward in anticipation. The priest was known to be quite conservative when it came to heavy drinking. “No, do tell,” she encouraged.

  Lily drew herself up and added a high nasal whine to her voice. “He said, ‘Vitio format perit, vino corrumpitur aetas.’

  Sarah could not help herself. Lily’s impersonation was dead on, and the phrase – ‘By wine beauty perishes, by wine youth is corrupted,’ was normally recited to tender girls, not to aging adult women! She burst out in peals of laughter, the glee of the moment filling her. She could just imagine the priest reciting this in stern admonition, and Lily’s amused response.

  Lily joined her in an enthusiastic, long chortle, and Reynald sat back, watching the two women with a smile on his face. Lily had tears streaming out of her eyes in a moment, and wiped them off with the back of her hand. Her breath came in gasps.

  “Can you even imagine?” she managed to say to Reynald, “Him saying that to me? Youth is corrupted? Beauty perishes?” She was off again, her face crimson with merriment.

  After a moment she drew in a deep breath, looking over at Sarah. “If he was going to worry about beauty, Sarah there is the one he should talk to, do you not agree?”

  Sarah was still chuckling about the outrageousness of it all, and flashed a brilliant smile to Reynald, playing along with the story. To her surprise, Reynald did not respond to the gibe in a playful manner, as she expected him to. He seemed caught off guard as he gazed at her. He held her eyes for a long moment before turning to look again at Lily, his tone quiet.

  “Yes, I do,” he offered, raising a toast to the elderly woman. She clinked her glass against his with an understanding smile, taking a long drink.

  Lily turned the conversation deftly to discussions of local politics and intrigues, drawing them both in with her playful banter. Over an hour passed in friendly conversation, and soon hoofbeat sounded from outside, indicating another group was coming in.

  Lily gave a warm laugh. “See, never a dull moment around here,” she teased as Sarah and Reynald stood to go. “I barely have time to work on my pottery any more! Still, that is fine. Soon there will be enough snowy days to indulge my muse. Nature is like that, keeping your world in balance.”

  Reynald helped Sarah tie her new wares down on the back of her steed, then the pair nodded in greeting to the new visitors before heading out on their way.

  Reynald patted the leather pouch holding the pair of bottles he had acquired from Lily. “She really is quite a lovely woman,” he noted with a smile. “I will have to savor these wines during a special occasion.”

  “Do not keep them for too long,” warned Sarah with a grin. “I find sometimes it is better to declare an occasion special, and to enjoy it, rather than wait years and years for a suitable one to present itself bowed and tied.”

  Reynald nodded in understanding. “Well then, let us open the first one together after I visit with my sister next Thursday. That will be a day to celebrate, after all.”

  Sarah looked away. Was it coming up that quickly? It seemed like only yesterday Reynald had arrived in her life, and his stay was already coming to an end. She found that her throat had grown tight, and she took a deep breath before responding.

  “After that, you will be leaving?” she asked, her voice level.

  Reynald was quiet for a long while, then replied in an equally even tone. “Yes, I imagine so. It will be time for me to chase down the trio of Templars in earnest, and to escort them back to Jerusalem if I can.”

  Sarah’s heart dropped, but she said nothing. She had known the truth of it from the start, and she needed to accept it.

  * * *

  Sarah was not surprised when dinner came and went without Rachel arriving. With the music festival going on, her younger sister would likely meander in at dawn, if then.

  Sarah found a window at the front of the keep and settled herself into it with a pillowcase, embroidering a rose pattern onto it as her mother’s birthday present. She figured it would keep her occupied until she was ready to turn in, and keep her safe from Reynald’s company. She knew she was becoming far too fond of the Templar, and that her heart would be sorely pressed when it came time for him to leave.

  The light was just starting to fade when she heard hoofbeat coming into the main courtyard. To her surprise, it was her sister who rode in. Her state of mind showed clearly in the rough way she handled her mount.

  Sarah leapt to her feet, allowing her embroidery to spill to the floor unheeded as she hurried out toward the main door. She met up with her sister in the entry way. Rachel’s face was a mixture of frustration and cynical acceptance.

  Rachel looked up at her sibling as she came into the room, drawing to a sudden halt. “Things were going very well until his wife showed up,” she blurted out, a wry smile on her face. “Once she was there, it became a bit uncomfortable for me. I decided after a while that I was just as well off heading home again.”

  Sarah shook her head in shock. “You mean Michael? He was married? He did not tell you?”

  Rachel shrugged, moving past Sarah to head inside. “He might have mentioned it to me,” she responded casually. “I did not think the wife would actually come this evening though. Silly me.”

  Sarah stood still, her mind spinning. Her sister moved on into the hall, calling out for some mead. Sarah
bit her lip, unsure of what she could say. Should she commiserate with Rachel for her bad luck in having the wife show up? Comment that perhaps it was to be expected? No matter what she said, the conversation was bound to go awry.

  She turned to head upstairs, and flushed crimson when she saw Reynald standing off to one side. He was staring after Rachel, a thoughtful look on his face. He was holding Sarah’s embroidery in one hand, and she realized that he had meant to bring it out to her.

  Sarah spun and took the steps two at a time to reach her room before he saw her. The vision of Reynald staring after Rachel was burnt into her brain. Maybe Reynald saw this as his chance to get Rachel on the rebound.

  Sarah ran her father’s words through her mind like a mantra as she reached her room and closed the door behind her in one quick move. If Reynald was the man for her, then he would love her on his own. If he chose another path, he was not the man meant to be by her side.

  She undressed quickly and climbed into bed, but found herself lying awake, unable to fall asleep.

  * * *

  Reynald watched as Rachel sat at one of the tables, drinking her mead and joking with the man who brought her some leftover dinner. He wondered again how the family that could have produced one sister had also molded the second. What different influences had caused them to be so varying in their outlooks on life?

  He glanced back down the hall, but to his surprise Sarah had vanished. He pursed his lips, looking down at the embroidery in his hand. He had thought he might have an opportunity to talk with her alone, but apparently it was not meant to be. He laid the pillowcase down on a side table, then moved up the stairs to his own room.

  The keep was settling down for the night, and he stood for a moment, looking down the long hall. The main bedrooms lined the front end of the keep, looking out over the courtyard. His room was at the far left end of the hall, a small storage room separating his from Sarah’s. Then came Rachel’s room, another small storage room, and that of her parents.