The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “Do you know what an easier solution would be? Dedicating more manpower to finding the ill-gotten gains and taking it by force.”

  “Robbing the robbers?” He arched an eyebrow. “No,” he shook his head, “there’s too much risk that way.”

  “Madeline and Tom are out looking for Roderick and his hiding place right now.”

  Her words weren’t intended to hurt him but they did anyhow. “They would do better searching for a nice cottage somewhere to settle down in, have some babies.” He thrust his hand into his pocket and rubbed his fingers along the beads of his rosary. A twist of guilt hit him when he glanced up to see Aubrey’s face splotched red with frustration. “Oy, you shouldn’t be getting yourself all worked up in your condition, mate.”

  Her lips trembled for a moment before she puffed out a breath. “Alright, I won’t have this discussion with you today.”

  “Discussion?” He arched an eyebrow. “More like a lecture.”

  “You’re an idiot, Jack, but today we have bigger things to deal with. Pennington is back.”

  “What?” He sank into his chair and rubbed his eyes. “Not him again. What’s he want?”

  “Pennington has been here for the last three days.”

  “You’re joking,” he scowled, gripping the arms of his chair. “Doing what?”

  “Remember all that lovely money Crispin has sent us? Pennington has been counting it and packing it up to send to London.”

  “What the bloody hell gives him the right to do that?” Jack surged forward in his chair.

  “He claimed that there was no one here in a position of authority to do it. So he used his own and had every last strongbox, every object of any value in the castle brought to the treasury to be counted. Only, surprise, surprise, he’s not letting anyone observe the counting and the numbers he’s coming up with are less than what I know is there.”

  His first instinct was to exclaim ‘Never!’ but the will to find even a shred of humor in the situation was completely gone. Instead he kept his face stern and said in a near-perfect accent, “What does he think gives him the right to go over your head? You’re as much a part of running this place as me or Crispin!”

  “Thanks for the support,” she grumbled, “but Pennington is a man and thinks I should be embroidering cushions. Plus he’s the emissary of the crown. Even if Crispin were here or if you’d been in the castle for the last few days he’d still justify robbing us blind. I think it’s probably safe to bet that half of what he takes from us won’t end up in London.”

  “So what does that mean for us?”

  Aubrey sighed. “Derby Castle is bankrupt. We have no money to pay the staff, to pay the guards, to buy provisions. We have no money.”

  “And you say Pennington is still here?” He rose from his seat hand going to his sword. “Sit down, Jack,” Aubrey ordered. “Going after Pennington won’t solve anything.”

  “Yeah, but it will make me feel a hell of a lot better.” He paced away from the table, flicking a glance to his guard. The man wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was listening in on confidential business. Lydia would know the worst of it within minutes of him returning to Kedleridge, and when she did know her taunting and nagging would start up again. The problem was, she had a point. And she controlled the money.

  “Alright, Aubrey,” he paced his way down to her end of the table. “The time for games is over. Where did you and Madeline put the priests?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bloody hell, Aubrey!” he shouted, feeling worse for barking at a friend. “This isn’t a joke! Lydia aside, people are getting testy about not having mass. It’s been a month, for God’s sake! Souls are at stake!”

  “The people of Derby understand why we’re-”

  “No they don’t!” he cut her off, pounding a fist on the table. “They don’t understand how I feel!”

  Aubrey lowered her eyes. Jack straightened, cursing under his breath at his flash of temper. When did he become such a wanker? He took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look, Aubrey, believe me when I say I don’t like marrying Lydia any more than you do. I like it far, far less than you do and you know it. But we’re the ones bloody well left in charge and that means we’re the ones who have to make the sacrifices. So where are you and Madeline hidin’ all the priests, huh? We need them. We need that money and with Pennington breathing down our necks we need it now!”

  “We can earn all the money we need at the festival and joust,” she insisted, rolling out of her chair and standing toe-to-pregnant belly with him. “The festival is the best way we can make the money for the ransom and continue to push the shire to support Prince John. That support is the only reason we’re all in these positions in the first place. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Oh I haven’t forgotten the favor Prince John did for me,” he laughed without humor. “I have Prince John to thank for all of this. Without Prince John’s little gift Lydia never would have noticed I was alive. And like as not Simon would be lord of Kedleridge and doin’ a much better job of it than me.”

  “Simon?” Aubrey blinked. “Why Simon?”

  “Never mind,” he sighed. He rubbed his temples, willing away the headache that hadn’t left him since he was tied to a tent pole in the Derbywood. “I need to find Madeline.”

  “At last!” Aubrey raised her arms in relief. “It’s about time you started talking sense!”

  “Yeah,” he turned on his heel to storm out of the room. “I’m gonna find her and make her tell me where the hell she’s hidin’ all the bloody priests!”

  Aubrey yelped in protest as he left the room. Face dark as a thundercloud, he marched up the stairs towards the main hall of the castle, his guard dogging him. The castle servants jumped out of his way, bowing and greeting him with “My lord” as he passed. They may have looked up to him but he envied the people who could go on doing what they did without worrying what would happen next.

  When he turned a corner into the front hall and saw Pennington coming out of the corridor that lead towards the Great Hall Jack’s temper shot to such a towering height that he was sure his face burned bright red. He changed his direction to intercept the man.

  “Oh it’s you,” Pennington sneered when he noticed his approach.

  Jack had planned to punch the man in the face but when he saw Pennington’s mocking look of superiority fade into surprise at the fine tunic Simon had dressed him in and the polished sword at his side he had a better idea. He hardened his face into a grim look of determination and came to a stop in front of the man. “Pennington,” he nodded, playing the noble harder than he had ever played it before.

  Pennington stared at him, eyes narrowing as if he had made a mistake and the man who stood in front of him was someone else. “Uh, Kedleridge.”

  “I understand that you have been counting the contents of Derby Castle’s treasury,” Jack spoke with an accent so perfect the king couldn’t have matched it. His eyes dared Pennington to condescend to him now.

  “I, um, I am about to send a considerable sum on Derbyshire’s behalf to London for the ransom of the king, yes,” Pennington fumbled.

  “Good.” He had to concentrate to stop himself from killing the louse. “I trust our generosity will be duly noted in any and all reports to the King, the Prince, and the Queen Mother.”

  Pennington gaped. “Of … of course it will, of course,” he jabbered.

  “And I trust that your report will include an accurate accounting of all monies?”

  Pennington worked his jaw around grunts that had a hard time manifesting themselves into words. “I … there’s no telling … that is to say … the crown may need…”

  He stepped right up against Pennington. Jack was average height at best, but Pennington was an inch or so shorter and fury added at least a foot to Jack’s stature. “If I catch wind of you taking so much as a farthing from Derbyshire to line your own pockets I will hunt you
down, skin you alive, and make a nice cloak out of your hide,” he whispered in a low voice that shook with the force of the threat. “I used to be a tanner, after all,” he added with a wicked smirk, taking a step back. “I know how to make it really hurt.”

  Pennington blanched. Jack nodded and left him standing in the front hall to think about everything that he’d said. He didn’t care what the man did about it. He would probably complain to Crispin, to Prince John even. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him was finding Madeline and talking sense into her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Tom, over there!” Madeline called in a whisper from atop her horse. She pointed towards a long rut in the forest floor as he glanced up from the bush he’d been inspecting. “Are those carriage tracks?” She kicked her mount closer to the spot in question, eyes scanning the trees for any sign that they were being watched. When she saw none she gripped her saddle and prepared to dismount.

  “Stay on your horse!” Tom ordered her for the hundredth time. He jumped up from the bush and ran to check the marks she’d seen.

  “Really, Tom,” she sighed, settling into her saddle. “How am I supposed to investigate from up here.”

  “You can see a lot more from up there than I can see from down here,” he muttered as he squatted to touch the marks. “You can see Roderick and his men coming. If we’re attacked it will be easier for you to get away.”

  “We haven’t been attacked in a month,” she grumbled, tugging at her chausses where they were beginning to itch.

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.” He sighed and stood. “They are carriage tracks,” he announced, walking to the side of her horse. “They’re deep enough to suggest a heavy carriage too.”

  “One carrying treasure?” Her heart lifted.

  “Possibly,” he nodded, “but they’re old. Weeks old in all likelihood.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “They’re moving it. They have to be. We would have found it by now if they were keeping it in one place.”

  “I think you’re right,” Tom agreed with a frown. “But from where and to where?”

  “That’s what we have to find out.”

  Madeline stood in her stirrups and scanned the forest. It was dimmer than she wanted it to be with the clouds above. The trees were so dense in some areas that she could hardly see the length of a house. Simple woodland sounds echoed in the hilly landscape, distorting and leaving her with no idea where they’d come from. There could have been an army of men over the next ridge or no one for miles and she wouldn’t have been able to tell either way.

  “We can’t give up,” she scolded her own thoughts.

  “We should head back to the castle,” Tom shook his head, walking past her to his own horse and mounting.

  “Just one more hour, Tom,” she coaxed him, turning to walk her horse closer to him. “We have to keep looking.”

  Tom winced, scratching his head in a gesture that reminded her so much of Jack it brought a lump to her throat. “If those tracks are as old as all that then I don’t think we’re going to find them anywhere near here today.”

  “We can walk for a while, look for signs.”

  “That’s all we’ve been doing for a month.”

  Madeline pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay calm. “Tom, do you really want to find the treasure?”

  He blinked at her. “Of course I do!”

  She shifted in her saddle, the suspicions she’d tried not to harbor for a month nagging her. “Are you … are you sure you don’t feel like you have more to gain by having Jack marry Lydia?”

  Tom glanced down, face flushing. “I’m not deliberately trying to keep you from finding it,” he mumbled his answer. He kicked his horse to walk back towards the road.

  Guilt warred with renewed suspicion as Madeline nudged her mount to follow him. Something had to be said. She picked up speed until she walked by Tom’s side.

  “Tom.” She squared her shoulders and swallowed. “Are you in love with me?”

  He didn’t look at her. Her heart squirmed down to her stomach. His shoulders rounded as he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” A squirrel rushed across their path. Her horse bobbed its head and sneezed. Tom didn’t answer. She wanted to reach behind her and scratch the itching feeling down her back. “How can you not know if you’re in love with someone?”

  “I don’t know,” he echoed.

  “But-”

  “I don’t know, alright?” he snapped. “I don’t know, Madeline. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. It doesn’t matter either way, does it? You love Jack. You always will.”

  Her face flared pink and she bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to upset him. “I do love Jack, you’re right,” she nodded. “And I always will. That’s why I’m not willing to give up on this.”

  “I know,” he nodded and stared straight forward.

  “But I need to know. If there was no Jack … would you be in love with me then?”

  He shook his head and blew out a breath. “That’s just the thing. There is Jack. There has always been Jack.” He turned to face her as they rode. “As long as I can remember there has always been Jack. Mum was gone, then Father died, but there was always Jack. Jack causing trouble, Jack making a scene, Jack getting all the attention, all the girls.”

  “Were you jealous of him?”

  He laughed and stared up at the trees above him. “Yes. No, not really. I don’t know.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

  He glanced to her. “I didn’t have much time to think about it until he was gone.”

  “When he went to work for Crispin you mean?”

  He nodded. “I thought he was the biggest pillock in England,” he sighed. “What kind of man leaves his brother, his only family, to be someone’s groveling spy?”

  “It was an accident, you know,” she spoke softly, not wanting to tread on his pain. He glanced to her. “Crispin caught him after he’d climbed up the side of the castle to see me and he ended up working as a spy to avoid something worse.”

  The surprise in Tom’s eyes faded to regret. “He picked the right side in the end, didn’t he.” It was her turn to be surprised. “Do you know why I stuck by Ethan after Jack left?”

  “Because you believed in him,” she nodded.

  “No,” he sighed. “I stuck by Ethan because I didn’t know what else to do.” He straightened in his saddle. They had reached the road leading out of the forest towards Derby. “That’s the story of my life, Madeline.” He turned to her, eyes a dull imitation of his brother’s. “Jack has always been so sure of himself. He could always talk his way into or out of anything. But I never know what to do, how to talk to anyone. So do I love you? I think I could. I think he expects me to take care of you, to marry you because he can’t. I would do a good job of it. But is that what I want?” He shrugged. “I just don’t know. Sorry if that’s not the answer you were looking for. But does that mean that I’m not trying as hard as I can to help you get him back from Lydia? No. It doesn’t. I just don’t know what else I can do.”

  He sat there for a moment staring at her, breathing as though he’d run through the forest. The depth of despair in his eyes brought tears to her own. She swallowed the lump in her throat and smiled. “You know who you should talk to?”

  He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping with a reluctant smile. “Who?”

  “Simon. You should talk to Simon. If anyone can help you find a sense of direction then it would be Simon McFarland.”

  “Jack’s Simon?” he smirked. “We’ll see.” He nudged his horse to a fast walk along the road.

  She tapped hers to catch up to him. “No, I’m serious. Simon is the most directed man I know. He is full of wisdom. He’s … he’s like a father really, a good father. And he’s been through so much.”

  “Alright, I’ll talk to Simon.”

  He was saying it to placate her. She wasn’t sure
if she liked it or not. If she had given that kind of advice to Jack he would have come right back with his own opinion about it and about seven other things while he was at it. Then again, Jack already knew how valuable Simon could be. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t even know how valuable he himself was.

  He kicked his horse to a gallop, leaving her behind. Her eyes stung with frustrated tears on his behalf. Her whole world was one bubbling cauldron of frustration. “I hate crying,” she grumbled to her horse, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve before kicking him to follow Tom.

  They were silent the rest of the way to Derby Castle. It would have been impossible to talk while galloping anyhow, but Madeline knew that if they were walking at a leisurely pace they still wouldn’t talk. She agonized over every cause for frustration all the way along the road, into the city and up to the castle. The darkening skies above seemed to reflect her thoughts.

  When they reached the courtyard Madeline caught sight of a familiar face ducking around the corner close to the kitchens. “Toby?” His was the last face she would have expected to see at Derby Castle. She swung her leg over her horse and dismounted. Toby’s face bobbed around the corner again. What was going on? She started towards him.

  “Madeline, wait!” Tom called after her.

  She ignored him, frown creasing her brow as she chased after Toby. He hadn’t had time to dash more than a few feet towards the kitchen door when she caught up to him.

  “Toby, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m, uh…”

  “He’s staying at the castle,” Tom filled her in as he jogged to join them.

  She blinked between the two men. “How long have you been here? And why haven’t you come to visit me? And why didn’t you tell me?” she directed her last question to Tom.

  Tom opened his mouth, but Toby answered first. “We’ve been here for a month, my lady.”