The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “Who?” The burly man sighed as if she was wasting his time.

  “J-Jack,” she stammered.

  “Jack who?”

  “Jack Tanner?”

  “Don’t know no Jack Tanner,” the guard sniffed.

  She second-guessed all the rumors she’d heard about Jack working for Sir Crispin and Buxton, everything Aubrey had said in the one letter she’d sent last summer. Aubrey. She blinked and looked up at the guard with renewed purpose.

  “Is Lady Aubrey here?”

  The guard huffed and shifted his weight. “It’s Derby Castle, boy, what do you think?”

  Madeline chewed her lip, deciding to take the answer as a yes. “Is … is she available?”

  The impatient guard was on the verge of shoving her off when the call of, “Don’t worry, Adam, he’s probably just one of the new pages that got lost,” saved her. A tall, thin man in black and silver livery strode across the castle courtyard towards her. Madeline recognized Livingston, Derby Castle’s steward, from her days as a prisoner. “I’ll take him where he needs to go.”

  “Right, sir.” The guard snapped straighter.

  “Come along, boy.”

  Madeline gasped as Livingston grabbed her arm and yanked her into the courtyard and up towards the castle. She was too shocked to open her mouth and identify herself. “Filling the castle up with children of God only knows who,” Livingston muttered, “Training any and every child in the shire to be pages and house servants and God only knows what else. And grown men too! Who did that lot think they were, sneaking in here like they owned the place, smelling like the forest? And you, boy!” He raised his voice and shook Madeline’s arm. “You stink. See that you have a bath before you report to Mistress Joanna for instructions.”

  He let go of her when they reached a cool, dark hallway that lead from the castle garden to the kitchen. She couldn’t think of anything to do or say other than, “Yes, sir,” and lower her head.

  Livingston sniffed then strode off. Madeline looked up and found herself at the edge of Derby Castle’s great kitchen. Three cooks and more than half a dozen servants and pages rushed every which way preparing a feast. The aromas of cooking meat and baking bread were enough to make her light-headed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had more than a heel of begged bread to eat. She leaned against the wall, her knees giving way.

  “You!” one of the cooks shouted at her. “What are you standing there for?”

  With a yelp Madeline straightened and bolted for the door leading into the castle hallways. She made it to the end of the hall, turned a corner, then gasped and jumped back as a group of men in plain clothes crossed in front of her.

  She blinked. “Ethan?”

  When she craned her neck to look back into the hallway the men were gone. Now she was seeing things. Hunger and exhaustion were taking a toll on her.

  She sighed, clutching a hand over her pounding heart. Sense slipped its way back into her mind and she rushed on, turning a corner and climbing the stairs to the main hallway of Derby Castle. She took a deep breath and forced her back straight. She had to find Aubrey.

  Lady Aubrey Huntingdon descended the last flight of stairs from the High Tower to the main hallway and stopped, rubbing her round belly with a heavy sigh. There was never anything for her to do at the castle. At Windale she was in charge of running things, but at the castle Livingston and the staff took care of it all. Though by the look of the scraggly page she passed at the top of the stairs leading to the kitchen Livingston’s standards had gone way down.

  She figured the best place to distract herself from her boredom and itchy stomach was to be in the place where the most people were. She strode into the Great Hall by way of the gallery and looked out over the buzz of activity. The room was being scrubbed from floor to ceiling, including the windows which had needed to be cleaned for years. She drew in a breath. There was no need to worry just because London had sent an emissary. Crispin had done everything Prince John could have wished of him and more. Derbyshire’s nobles would back him up if it came to it … wouldn’t they?

  “My lady,” the bright and calming voice of her maid Joanna kept her from getting lost in her thoughts. Joanna was dressed in the Huntingdon black and silver and wore it with pride, walking with a spring in her step. Several of the male servants did a double-take when Joanna swept into the room. Toby would be proud of his sister. “These letters came for you.” She curtsied and held out a small handful of folded parchments.

  “Am I suddenly the most popular woman in Derbyshire?” She raised a wicked eyebrow at the most popular woman in the castle as she took the letters.

  “You’re certainly the most well connected.” Joanna grinned right back. Aubrey knew that she shouldn’t be so familiar with her maid but she couldn’t help it. In a few short months Toby’s sister had become her closest friend.

  She sighed as she shuffled through the letters, pushing away from the gallery and walking down the stairs with Joanna at her side. “No,” she said as she opened one letter, read the signature, and handed it over her shoulder to Joanna. “No.” She repeated the process with another. “Hell no!” She tossed the third.

  As she flipped the fourth over to look at the seal a sharp crack and clatter followed by a high-pitched squeal turned her to the stairs she’d just descended. Several brooms had been knocked over, upsetting a bucket of dirty water as someone tripped down the stairs. “Careful, boy!” Joanna shouted as she rushed at the small, harried figure struggling to stand in the midst of the mess. It was the filthy boy in the ripped, shapeless sack she’d passed in the hall. His … or rather her cropped strawberry-blond hair stuck out in spiky tufts and her large green eyes were as round as apples.

  “Madeline!” Aubrey cried in disbelief. The green eyes shot up to hers. Aubrey dropped her pile of letters and ran towards her, ignoring the water and brooms, to crush her friend in a furious embrace.

  “Aubrey, oh Aubrey!” Madeline squeezed her back, shaking and bursting into tears.

  “My God, Madeline, what are you doing here? And look at you!”

  “I ran away!” She clung to Aubrey’s kirtle, half laughing, half crying. Tears had cleared two wet trails in the grime on her face but her eyes were bright and happy. “In the middle of the night with almost no money, no clothes, nothing! Sister Bernadette helped me. Can you believe it?”

  Aubrey worked her jaw, speechless. “I guess I can if you’re here, but how-”

  “Oh Aubrey, it was terrible.” Madeline squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed, mastering herself and breathing a few times before opening her eyes and continuing. “You should have seen the row when Sister Bernadette and I returned to the convent. Mother Superior was furious that we returned without the statue.”

  “Even though you had the treasure?” Aubrey had heard the whole story of the hoard of treasure hidden inside of the statue that Buxton had stolen from the Abbey of St. Mary. Jack had helped Madeline and Sister Bernadette retrieve it last summer, but the statue itself had been destroyed.

  “Mother Superior said it was blatant carelessness on our part to reveal the secrets of the Order. Sister Bernadette was so ill and spent a month in the infirmary so I took the brunt of the blame. Mother Superior ordered me into seclusion.” She blanched and her fingers tightened around Aubrey’s kirtle before she realized that she was clinging and let go. “Oh Aubrey, I couldn’t bear it. They gave me nothing but bread and water all winter and no blankets. I was kept in the kitchens like a common maid and not allowed to go outside at all. And you know how I love the outdoors. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I begged father to let me come home but he refused. And mother was no help at all, of course. A fortnight ago I picked the lock on my cell in the middle of the night. Sister Bernadette unlocked the convent gate for me and then I ran!”

  Aubrey threw her arms around her friend and held her tight. “Well you made it here, that’s all that matters. We’ll take care of you now.” She exchanged a firm nod wi
th Joanna who had picked up the letters and joined them. Aubrey let Madeline go and held her at arm’s length. “Joanna will fetch you a bath and some clean clothes. You can stay at the castle as long as you like.”

  Madeline’s green eyes flew wide. “So it’s true then? You really married Sir Crispin?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Buxton is dead? Sir Crispin is the new Sheriff?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Misery and pity crumpled Madeline’s freckled face. “Oh Aubrey, I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you write to me? I could have-”

  Aubrey shook with laughter and hugged her friend again. “It’s okay, Madeline, believe me. More than okay. Crispin is….” She sighed and rested a hand on her belly. Madeline gasped and covered her mouth as though just noticing. “And I did write to you. So much has happened in Derby since you were here.”

  “I only received one letter and that was almost a year ago.” Madeline sighed. “If I had only known I would have written so much to console you.”

  Aubrey opened her mouth to set her friend straight but stopped and closed it with a grin. “Never mind about that. Let’s take care of you.” She hooked her arm in Madeline’s and started for the stairs to the gallery. “I’m going to put you right back in the North Room. They repaired all the damage from the fire and it’s the nicest room in the castle now. We’ll have some dresses made, but in the meantime I’m sure Joanna can find some for you to borrow. Joanna?”

  “There’s that chest of your old things. I’m sure I could get some of the pages to carry it up to the North Room,” Joanna nodded, eyes sparkling. She curtsied to Madeline and reassured her with a warm smile. “I’ll see to that bath right away.”

  Madeline’s eyes flew wide as she remembered her purpose. “Aubrey, where is Jack? Your one letter said he works for Sir Crispin now?”

  “Yes he does, but-”

  “Dear God in heaven!” She pressed a trembling hand to her heart. “What does Sir Crispin make him do? No! I don’t want to know.”

  Aubrey swallowed the explanation she wanted to give and smiled. It would take days to explain all the changes in their lives. “I’m pretty sure that Jack is in the castle. We could go find him.”

  “No!” Madeline pulled away, hands flying to her hair then wiping across her brow and running along the grubby mess of her clothes. “I can’t see him like this! I look dreadful! What am I going to do?” She glanced around as if Jack would pop out of the woodwork.

  It took all of Aubrey’s willpower not to laugh at her friend. “Here.” She drew Madeline aside to a small table at the foot of the stairs leading to the gallery. It contained Livingston’s notebooks and ledgers. “Write him a note telling him you’re here and that you’ll see him as soon as you can. I’ll take it to him.”

  “Good idea.” Madeline tore a page from the notebook and dipped a quill in ink then scrawled a long message. “There.” She put the quill down and handed over the parchment.

  Aubrey hugged Madeline again. “Perfect. Now go upstairs to the North Room. I’m sure Joanna will be there any minute with your bath and all my old clothes. Something in there is bound to fit. Go!”

  With a joyful giggle Madeline squeezed her friend’s hand then dashed up the stairs to the gallery and out into the hall. Aubrey held her laughter until she had disappeared. Her friend was in for quite a shock when she met Lord John of Kedleridge.

  Jack tipped back in his chair, his booted feet up on the long table in the middle of what Crispin called the War Room in the basement of Derby Castle. He tried to focus on making out the words on the parchment he’d picked up from a pile in the middle of the table, but it was like trying to make sense out of chicken scratches.

  “Oy, I’m never gonna get the hang of this readin’ stuff, mate,” he drawled when Crispin stormed into the room.

  “You will if you apply yourself,” Crispin grumbled as he approached the table and winced at the pile of business that needed attention. “What new problem is being thrown in our lap?” He nodded at the parchment in Jack’s hands.

  “Here,” Jack handed it over. “Oy, you don’t look so good, mate.” He dropped his feet and pushed himself out of the chair to stand by Crispin’s side. “Someone been keepin’ you up nights?” He sent his friend a saucy grin.

  “I wish,” Crispin growled in reply. Jack felt for the man, he really did. He finally had the love of his life in his arms and in his bed, had gotten her with child even, and the business of the shire wasn’t giving him a lick of time to enjoy it. “Half the lords in the shire have shown up on our doorstep to pay a ‘social call’ since word of the London emissary’s approach got out. Now we’ve got to feed and entertain them to keep them from complaining behind our backs.”

  “So what else is new, mate?” Jack leaned against the side of the table, bending back to pick handful of dried apricots from a bowl on the table.

  Crispin shot him a sideways glance. “You do know that there are a dozen noblemen at least just waiting for one or the other of us to screw up so that they can cry foul to King Richard about our appointment when he returns home.”

  Jack shrugged. “I thought good old Richard got himself captured in Vienna. He ain’t comin’ home any time soon, mate.”

  “That’s not the point, Jack.” Crispin sighed and tossed the parchment on the table. “Look, you’re a good Bailiff and … and the best friend I’ve ever had.” Jack grinned under the praise and popped an apricot in his mouth. “But if you want to succeed as a noble you have to learn to play their game. Believe me. I know.”

  “Oy, and look where that got you, mate.” Jack argued offering Crispin an apricot. “How long were you Buxton’s whipping boy before Prince John came along?” Crispin glowered, his face flaring red. “Sorry,” Jack mumbled an apology. “That was low. I know you didn’t deserve none of that. Buxton was-”

  “You can deny it all you want,” Crispin changed the subject with a scowl, “but if you want to keep your estate and that orchard I know you love so much when King Richard does come home you have to play along. Men like Gerald of Wyndham and Stephen of Matlock would just as soon see you hang as call you their peer.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Jack brushed off the dire warning, “but don’t we have bigger things to worry about? Like this emissary for one. What’s he want anyhow?”

  “Money.” Crispin scowled, pushing away from the table and motioning for Jack to follow him. “It’s always about money when they send an emissary.” He headed back into the hall, Jack half a step behind him. “I want him in and out and on his way as quickly as possible,” he continued his thought as they climbed a narrow staircase and marched through the hall and along a side corridor that took them past the chapel and out through the cloister into the bright Spring morning.

  “Your good friend the Prince say anything about it in his latest letter?” Jack questioned.

  Crispin frowned. “He’s still blessing his good fortune that Richard was captured. He seems to think that it’s just a matter of time before Prince Leopold does him in, leaving the way open for John to take the throne.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Crispin shook his head. “I think that Prince John is getting ahead of himself.”

  “Maybe that’s what the emissary is come about.”

  They strode out into the sunlight of the courtyard and across it towards the armory. For half a second Jack thought he saw his brother speeding through the garden. His back went up and he whipped his head around to look for Ethan and the others, but no one was there.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Crispin muttered. If Crispin hadn’t seen anything then there probably wasn’t anything to see.

  Aubrey was on her way down the wide steps leading from the castle’s main entrance to the courtyard as they passed. Crispin stopped to wait for her and Jack scanned the bustling courtyard, looking for another hint of people who shouldn’t be there. Ethan and Tom and their friends had been causing enough trouble in the forest
without showing up in Derby on a day like this. A dozen servants in black and silver were scurrying about with bundles of supplies for the kitchen, banners to be hung to spruce the castle up for the emissary’s arrival, and piles of laundry that the visiting nobs demanded be washed for them. Two or three of the nobs themselves were loitering around. When they spotted Crispin they leapt like vultures going after prey to have a word with him.

  “Oy! Where do you think you’re goin’?” Jack shouted at one of them, Lord Gerald of Wyndham, the very same wanker Crispin had just warned him about. He grasped the sword in his belt for good measure. Ethan and Tom were forgotten.

  Lord Gerald stopped and stared at Jack as though he were a leper. “I wish to have a word with the Earl.” The man glanced right past him to address Crispin with a bare half nod and a reluctant, “My lord.”

  “Not now,” Crispin dismissed the man. “I will be holding an audience in the Great Hall after lunch.”

  “But my lord,” Lord Gerald protested.

  “Crispin, look!” Aubrey’s gasp turned everyone’s heads towards the front gate. A carriage bearing the Plantagenet standard rolled into the courtyard. It was drawn by four of the finest horses Jack had ever seen. He gave a whistle and scratched at his pointed goatee at the sight.

  “He’s early.” Crispin’s observation was delivered in such a low bass that the hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up.

  “Oy, this ain’t gonna be good, mate,” he whispered to Aubrey.

  “No it isn’t,” she frowned. They took a few steps to follow Crispin to the carriage before Aubrey reached out and stopped him. “Before this gets out of hand….” She reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, handing it to him with a frown that wanted to be a smile.

  “What’s this?” he asked, able to read his name ‘Jack’ on one side at least.

  Aubrey didn’t have time to answer. The door to the carriage opened and a page jumped out then turned and pulled a step out of the carriage and placed it on the ground. Moments later Arthur Pennington stepped into the courtyard.