“Aye,” Margery’s voice continued, her tone soft and inviting. “A very long time indeed.” She paused. “If you wish, I can visit your bedchamber now…”
Clarisse stared at the facing wall, stunned. Margery wanted to visit Roldan’s bedchamber? That was something that she didn’t want to know. She shifted from the crouched position, while her hand landed on an open grain sack. Except she placed too much weight upon it and the contents spilled on to the stone floor.
A cold sweat ran down her back. She looked first at the wheat grains and then at the doorway. With growing terror, she expected them to charge into the pantry and drag her out of there.
Fortunately the voices continued to float by, and she slowly released the air that was trapped in her lungs. Her heart finally was able to resume its normal pacing.
“I do not plan to be here long,” replied the duke in his slow and measured voice.
“Oh…” Margery said.
That one word was filled with so much disappointment that it caused Clarisse to pause. The depths of the nursemaid’s despair seemed to indicate that she had more than a passing fancy for Roldan. Her hands shook slightly as she bent down and pulled the grain sack upright. Should she warn the nursemaid away from the man? Of all people, the Lord High Steward was not someone to fall in love with. And if Margery had feelings for the king’s powerful official, then she was in trouble, for the man was ruthless, uncaring and, she shuddered, cruel.
Still, the question remained — what was Amelie’s uncle doing at Stanbury Castle? From the little bits of conversation she had just overheard, she couldn’t determine the answer to that. She had been with Lady Edeline all day, reading passages to her from her favorite book. Usually when someone of importance passed through the castle gates, the lady of the castle was informed. But there was no news of Roldan’s arrival. So how did he enter the castle without anyone knowing? And what was he doing with Margery? She could only imagine what Amelie’s reaction would be if she told her about what she had just overheard.
They were moving away from the pantry, and their voices were now too far for her to hear properly. She crept out from among the grain sacks, and inched toward the doorway. She was assured that they were well past the small room and unlikely to turn back. When she neared the entranceway, she flattened herself against the wall, making certain that she was still in darkness before she peered out from her hiding place. From her angle, she could see the two figures walking toward the private suites. She felt slightly disappointed that she couldn’t hear any more of what they said, but just when she thought that they would continue on their way, the couple suddenly stopped and faced each other.
“I didn’t mean to do it!” Margery said, her voice rising in near panic. But her voice dropped, and as hard as Clarisse strained to hear, she couldn’t make out what else the nursemaid said.
Never had she heard the nursemaid so distraught. Margery was prettier than the average servant, although her looks didn’t win her many friends. Indeed, the woman always had a serene and slightly superior air about her. She only tolerated Clarisse because of her relationship with Amelie, and her respectable lineage. But Clarisse knew that many of the servants disliked the comely nursemaid. There were times when she disliked her too, but she kept those feelings to herself. After all, Margery wasn’t her nursemaid. And as long as the woman didn’t interfere with her duties as an attendant to Lady Edeline, then all was well.
But just then her gaze settled on Roldan. His hair, once a dark shade like Amelie’s, was sprinkled with silver strands. He was perhaps about two inches shorter than Gordon, his younger brother. Roldan carried an ornately carved wooden staff that was tipped with gold. But as far as Clarisse could tell, the man didn’t need the cane, despite his advanced years. Few men, except for the most powerful, had the monetary means to carry such an expensive walking cane.
A perpetually stern, almost cruel expression was frozen on the duke’s face, intimidating everyone around him, including Clarisse. She had to remind herself many times that he was different from Amelie’s father. Gordon, although not the most expressive man either, was at least fair and pleasant. With Roldan, it was a different matter altogether. She shuddered. Pleasant was not a word to describe the king’s advisor. Every time she saw Amelie’s uncle, it was the same reaction over and over again. And it always took her a few moments to regain her composure.
Still, even with his face lined with age, Roldan was an attractive man — if one was attracted to coldness, which Margery apparently was.
He leaned on the stick, his posture erect. The expression on Roldan’s countenance was unmoving and hard. As he stared at the nursemaid, a cold, angry energy was directed at her, an energy that Clarisse could feel even at this distance. Unable to help it, she felt sympathy for the woman and in no way envied her position. Reflecting on her actions, she was immensely glad that she jumped into the pantry when she did. At least she was assured that the darkness hid her from the duke’s frigid stare.
Margery said something to Roldan, although he continued to cast an angry, contemptuous glare at the nursemaid. But she looked imploringly up at him, her hands raised in supplication, her face turned a beet red. And when her tears fell, her face wrinkled, and any attractiveness she possessed disappeared in an instant. When the servant received no reaction from the duke, she covered her face, her sobs echoing in the narrow hall and drifting into the pantry. But if Margery thought that her weeping would move the Lord High Steward, she was sadly mistaken. He turned and left her standing alone in the corridor.
As she watched Roldan disappear down the long walkway, Margery’s crying subsided. Absently, the nursemaid lifted a corner of her apron and wiped at her tears. And then she too hurried out of sight.
Clarisse slumped against the wall, and looked at the empty passageway, her limbs and mind momentarily numb. Clearly something was afoot, but from the little things that she learned from their conversation, she couldn’t make any sense of it.
What did Roldan say to upset Margery so? Was this a lover’s quarrel, or was it something more? She wished that Amelie was here. If her cousin witnessed this exchange, she would have a perfectly reasonable explanation for all that occurred. But since Clarisse was left to her own devices, her imagination ran rampant.
A tiny squeak close to her foot startled her out of her thoughts and caused her to jump a little. Casting a wary glance over at the direction of the noise, she pushed herself away from the wall. The pantry was not the most ideal, or the most pleasant place for any sort of contemplation.
Chapter 24
“You never told us — where are we going?” Amelie asked, looking at Albert who rode beside her.
“To a cave,” he replied, pointing up ahead. “’Tis located not too far from here.”
Amelie shook her head and said in disbelief, “All I see is dense forest. I never realized that a cave existed this far north of Wykeham.”
The tree growth became thicker even as she spoke, but neither Albert nor Lester seemed deterred.
Alfred led them though deep underbrush before he stopped and waited for everyone to catch up. “Lord Stanbury is up there,” he said, gesturing to a high incline. “We need to leave the horses at the foot of this cliff before we make our climb.” He slipped of his horse and helped her down from her mount. Turning to his friend, he said, “Lester, you take the horses, and meet us in the cave.” Then without waiting for a reply, he beckoned to Amelie. “This way, my lady.”
She caught Albert’s sleeve before he started to move. “You said that my father is all right?” she asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice but failing.
“Aye,” he nodded and looked at her sympathetically. “He was hurt during the skirmish at the inn, but he is recovering well.”
Leading the way, he navigated the rocky area as if he had made the climb many times before. When they finally made it to the top, he moved forward and pushed aside some branches, revealing the mouth of a small cave.
Amelie stepped into the cave, momentarily blinded by the smoke in the enclosed area. The smell of dried herbs and flowers hit her immediately, and she was reminded of the Healer’s cottage. But it only took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit shelter and she surveyed the space in wonder.
The cave looked like it was equipped to shelter its inhabitants for an extended period and provide a safe haven from wild predators. Everything that a person required to survive in the forest was here. There were straw mats that lined the walls, each containing various mushrooms, leaves and flowers left to dry. A dozen baskets sat along the other side of the cave wall and were filled with more dried substances.
A pretty girl of about twelve years old looked up from poking at the embers of a small fire pit. Off to her right was the Healer, an older version of the girl. The woman crouched on the ground, stirring a small pot on a makeshift tripod, which sat above the small fire. Going against custom, she wore no wimple. Instead, she allowed her gray streaked hair to flow over her shoulders like a maiden.
“Lady Amelie, what are you doing here?” the Healer gasped, her hand stopped in mid-motion, staring at her as if she was a ghostly figure.
Alfred and Lester emerged and stood beside Amelie. Shifting her eyes, the Healer pinned her gaze on the two men. “You fools!” she exclaimed, comprehension reflecting in her depths. “What have you done?”
“Forgive me, Mistress May,” a stricken look crossed Alfred’s square face. He lifted his shoulders almost to his ears while he put out his palms. “’Twas my fault. I overheard my lady asking about Lord Stanbury and —”
“Of all the impulsive, idiotic people that I have hired to work for me,” the Healer cried. “I gave you permission to go to the wedding. I did not expect you to bring anyone back with you, let alone the daughter of Lord Stanbury! What were you thinking, man?”
Alfred dropped his shoulders and looked at the ground. In a tone that sounded defeated and remorseful, he said, “Lord Stanbury was worried about Lady Amelie — he was afraid that she would come to harm. And when I was at the wedding, my lady showed up.” He glanced quickly at Amelie before lowering his gaze again.
“He said ‘twas a sign from God,” Lester interjected in his friend’s defense, “and I believed him.”
The Healer’s hard, unwavering glare settled on Lester and he cringed.
“Aye,” Alfred nodded looking up from the ground, buoyed up by his friend’s confidence in him. He clasped his hands together and said eagerly, “’Twas truly a sign from God, mistress. This was the reason why I thought to bring my lady here.”
The Healer gave a quick shake of her head. “You and your signs,” she said, letting out an irritated breath. She took the ladle and banged it hard on the pot to release the gruel that stuck to it. “You hare-brained creatures have put everyone in danger by bringing Lady Amelie here.” She looked up at them with narrowed eyes. “I hope that you had enough sense to ensure that no one followed you?”
“We didn’t —”
“As long as there is a threat to the king, danger is ever present,” Derrik said, cutting off Alfred.
“Perhaps I can go outside and see if anyone has followed us,” Lester said, backing out of the cave. “’Tis the least I can do.”
“’Tis much too late for that,” the Healer replied, but Lester had already exited from the cave. Her sharp eyes looked past Amelie. And then raising her gaze up at the cave ceiling, she heaved a heavy sigh. “Sir Derrik,” the Healer said finally. Then bending down, she continued to stir the pot. “You brought Sir Derrik with you too. You might as well as have brought the Lord High Steward here so we can all sit by the fire, and discuss the developments of the king’s overthrow.”
“I am delighted to see you as well, Mistress May,” Derrik said dryly. “Actually I’m quite surprised to find you here so far away from the royal courts.”
“Court life is no longer for me and Gena,” the Healer answered shortly. “I tire of the political environment. But I see no matter how far I move away, politics continue to plague me.”
Amelie looked at both Derrik and the Healer. They knew each other?
“What is this place, Mistress May?” Amelie interposed. “I had gone to see you at your cottage, but you were not there.”
“I often come here around this time to gather mushrooms for my potions. These rare species only grow in this part of the shire. I usually stay here if the mushrooms are especially abundant, or if the weather is poor.”
“’Tis a pleasant place to stay,” she said politely.
“A most convenient shelter,” the Healer agreed, but she frowned at Alfred. “Although very few people should know about it.” Taking the ladle out of the pot, she blew on the steaming gruel before cautiously tasting it.
The small fire illuminated the surrounding area, and Amelie peered into the darkness beyond the fire pit. “I am told that my father is here,” she said. “Where is he?”
Before the Healer could reply, a dry cough came from the middle of the cave. Amelie scanned the area in which the sound emerged. Squinting, she saw an outline of a figure lying on a pallet. Walking slowly over to the prone figure, she hoped that she was not imagining things. She stilled her heart in case she encountered another disappointment.
“Father?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
Another cough sounded. “My daughter,” returned the familiar, smoky voice.
Suddenly all her thoughts and worries fled her mind, and a joyous light filled her heart.
“Father!” she cried. “’Tis you.” She rushed over to him and fell to her knees, burying her face in his chest. “Why did you not make yourself known when I stepped into the cave?”
“I had thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice,” he said weakly.
“Nay, I am here in the flesh,” she said, squeezing her arms around him.
He let out a small grunt. She lifted her head in time to see the grimace on his face diminish.
“You are hurt.”
“Just a little,” he said lightly, although his admission failed to mask the pain that crept in his voice.
“What has happened to you?” She frowned.
“I got into a scuffle —”
“At the Wykeham inn,” Amelie finished for him.
“How do you know this?”
“’Twas the stable boy who told us,” Derrik offered. “He witnessed everything.”
“Ah,” Lord Stanbury said, nodding with understanding. “’Twas at Wykeham that they ambushed me. I was a fool not to be on my guard, but they were lying in wait for me outside the stable.” He paused. “They slashed me in the chest and arms, and I barely managed to escape into the forest. I hid in the underbrush until they exhausted their search for me. And then with my attackers gone, I stumbled along and fell unconscious.” He looked over at the old healer. “That was when Mistress May and her daughter found me.”
The Healer came and brought over a steaming bowl of gruel.
“Lord Stanbury lost a lot of blood,” the older woman confirmed. She dipped a small wooden spoon into the bowl and blew on it. “My lord, you best eat this to build up your strength.”
Her father closed his eyes and reluctantly parted his mouth.
“Will he be all right?” Amelie whispered.
“He will,” the Healer answered. “At this moment, he just needs to recover.”
Amelie watched the interplay with some unease. The joy of finding him faded. It was impossible to conceive that less than a month ago her lord father was strong, vibrant, and revered by hundreds of people. Seeing him now was enough to reduce her to tears, although she knew that it would never come to that. Lord Stanbury didn’t approved of tears. “They are a sign of weakness,” she once overheard him telling a page. And even though that reprimand was not meant for her ears, the words stuck.
“I am no longer hungry,” her father said, pushing the Healer’s hand away as she offered a third spoonful of porridge.
The Healer compressed her lips to show her disapproval, but she withdrew the wooden spoon without comment.
Amelie took in a shaky breath and started to pull away. She didn’t dare lose control of her emotions in front of her father.
“Wait, Amelie.” Lord Stanbury grabbed her sleeve and stopped her from moving out of his reach. Drawing her close again, he placed a large, heavy hand on her head. “I missed you, daughter,” he said, his voice sounding weaker than she had ever heard it.
She searched his face. Did she hear him correctly?
“I feared for you and your mother,” he continued. “And I insisted that a servant be sent to warn you about the threat within the castle walls. But I didn’t want it known that the warning came from me,” he let out a tired sigh. “The last thing I desired was for you, or your mother to seek me out.”
She gently laid a hand on the side of her sire’s face. “Our lives were never threatened, Father. I know ‘twas your own life that was in danger.” She fought back a lump that formed in her throat, feeling a need to tell him that she loved him. But when she opened her mouth to say it, the words that came out were: “I am glad to learn that you are alive, Father.” She dropped her hand and cleared her throat before adding, “The king seems to think that you have initiated a plot to overthrow him. Is this true?”
“Aye, I would like to know this as well, Lord Stanbury,” Derrik said, walking over to the pallet. The light from the fire danced off his flaxen hair. In the half shadow, his face had taken on a serious, severe look, and he seemed even more handsome than she cared to admit. She swallowed. If anything, Derrik looked like the fierce warrior that he was. She glanced away from him in the off-chance that the expression on her face revealed too much.
The silence seemed to stretch on until her father spoke up, “Sir Derrik,” he said, “’Tis good to see you again.”
“You know Sir Derrik?” Amelie asked, her eyebrows lifting. There were so many surprises that she didn’t know what to think anymore. “I thought Sir Derrik was just a king’s representative, a messenger.”
A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2) Page 16