by Janet Lane
They crossed the drawbridge, stopping at the first watchtower.
Four guards blocked their path, and the knights posted above stood ready.
“From whence do you hail, and what brings you?”
Aydin gave an easy smile. “Count Aydin of Little Egypt. We have come from St. Giles to see Sharai the seamstress.”
Matching their number, seven knights met them in the bailey and escorted Aydin and his knights inside. “Lady Anne would see you in the great hall,” said the head knight.
Aydin glanced at him, certain he had misheard. “Lady Anne?”
“Aye. Lord Tabor’s mother, and chatelaine in Lord Tabor’s absence.”
Lord Tabor’s absence. Sir Geoffrey appeared as surprised as Aydin. Their task had just become simpler. At the worst, they could simply smuggle the young girl, Kadriya, over the curtain and Sharai would willingly follow.
Aydin dismounted and with his men, followed a guard into the great hall, where servants were preparing for supper, unstacking tables, lighting torches and draping the high table in fine ivory and green linen. A large tapestry filled the far wall, its workmanship so fine that Aydin had to force himself to look away lest he appear to be a gaping fool.
Lady Anne approached them, wearing a gown of blue silk, finely pleated under her breasts, the hue of the fabric perfectly matching her eyes. A puffy-faced woman of age, she had plucked the life out of her eyebrows, a queer habit of the nobility, here and on the continent. Her lace headdress covered thick, dark brown hair barely touched with grey. She appraised Aydin from head to foot, clearly noting the quality of his clothes, for her smile widened after her survey. “Welcome, Count Aydin.”
Aydin took her hand, kissing it with flourish. “Thank you, Lady Anne. I hope we have not disturbed you.”
“Certainly not.” She guided him toward a staircase, then stopped and turned to Aydin’s knights, stopping them with a gesture. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” She signaled to a tall, red-haired woman who was turning the last of the lower tables upright. “Maud, see that our guests get food and drink after their journey.”
Maud gave Geoffrey a frank appraisal and winked. “Aye, my Lady. Most specially this green-eyed knight.”
Lady Anne’s mouth twisted in exasperation. “Food, Maud. Food.” She gave a smile of dismissal to Aydin’s knights. “Pray excuse us.”
Aydin’s confidence waned. Was it a trap? Why would Tabor’s mother want to speak with him privately? Aydin was not particularly comfortable with older women. They always seemed taller than him, regardless of their height. And this one was a privileged noblewoman.
Two tall tables lined one wall of the solar, piled high with bolts of fabric. She led Aydin to the other side of the room, took a cushioned chair and gestured for him to take another.
“I am so glad you have come to see Sharai.” She straightened her headdress. “I’m concerned for her safety.”
Aydin’s gut tightened. Why?”
Her sparse brows furrowed. “How well do you know her?”
Any remnants of comfort fled. “She is a good Gypsy girl.”
“She’s in danger here. She delves into the black arts and has put a spell on Lord Tabor.”
He gritted his teeth. How many times had he told Sharai, and all his tribe members: the English were suspicious of any actions unlike their own. To survive, they must assume the behavior of those among whom they currently lived. Fie! “She is but a simple Gypsy girl. She may sings songs, of a sort, but she is no witch, my lady.”
“She mixes strange herbs. She put her evil eye on one of our lambs and it died in her arms. And she chanted a frog-bone spell on Lord Tabor. I swear, this is not tongue-wagging. I heard her chanting with my own ears.”
Frog bones. Sharai had woven a love spell for the rich Gorgio. Aydin’s stomach turned. After all he had done for her.
“Did you not hear me, Count Aydin?”
Anger burned, hot, behind his eyes.
“Her work is done, and we’ve paid handsomely for her services. Can you not take her with you now, back to St. Giles?”
Oh, ho, this was too fine. He could profit from both sides of this coin. He feigned bewilderment. “How can I, without speaking with Lord Tabor?” He paused to make his next question sound casual. “Where is he?”
Lady Anne hesitated, then raised her chin. “I don’t know, but I assure you, in his absence I can, and am dismissing her. But she has a sennight more to fulfill.”
Lady Anne rose and walked to the window, giving Aydin her back. “Her presence has created serious problems for Tabor.” She sighed audibly. “The girl visits his chamber every night, Count Aydin.”
Speechless, Aydin blinked. The rumors were true. He would kill both of them.
“My son has become so distracted that he’s abandoned his duties to his demesne, to his king.”
Lady Anne turned, offering him a weak smile. “I worry for my son, and with her sorcery, I fear for her safety as well.” Her smile faded. “Count Aydin? Are you all right?”
She has lain with him. Aydin discarded thoughts of money. She would suffer for wounding him like this. Suffer. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I am distressed to hear this, and I apologize for Sharai’s behavior. Of course. I will take her. Please bring her to me, now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kadriya answered the knock at their chamber door, and Lady Anne entered. “You have a visitor. In the solar.”
Sharai noted the smugness in Lady Anne’s voice, and alarm tingled up her spine. “Who is it?”
“One of your kind, dear. A finely dressed Egyptian. Your king, he said. Count Aydin.”
Sharai’s heart raced. Was Etti ill? There must be trouble. She hurried with Kadriya, following Lady Anne down the steps.
Lady Anne left them at the base of the stairs leading to the solar.
Count Aydin rose to greet them. “Sharai.” He studied her, his eyes cold and flat, chest thrust out, a sweating, glowering image from her past. He reminded her of her vulnerability, of the tenuous security she had held in her old life at the fairs, under the thumb of this needy man, determined to possess her against her will. Her newfound freedom vanished under his cold stare. “Count Aydin.”
Aydin glanced at Kadriya. “You will wait downstairs while I talk with Sharai.”
“Nay.”
His eyes glistened with menace. “Tell her.”
“Just go down to the base of the stairs, Sprig. It’s all right.”
Kadriya tugged at her earring. Did Sharai feel safe?
Sharai tugged her earring in response, telling Kadriya, for the first time, a lie.
Kadriya shuffled down the steps.
Aydin reached a hand out and stroked her face. “You are as lovely as ever. Have they been treating you well?”
Sharai withdrew enough to avoid his touch but not so much as to insult him. “I am fine. You need not worry.”
“But I do.” He took her arm, and she tried to pull away.
He grabbed the loop of her earring and tore it downward, ripping it out of her ear.
She gasped. Her hand flew to her ear, but it was too late. He held the earring in his hand. She touched her shredded earlobe and tried unsuccessfully to escape his grip.
“You have sewn well for Lady Anne. Unfortunately, she tells me that you’ve done more than sew. You’ve been mixing herbs.” His face grew dark, and he jerked her toward him. “Baking cakes for Tabor.”
He slammed her against his chest. His dank breath reached her, with its dark, unpleasant smell, and she could feel the heat of his fury in the tight muscles of his arm, in the quick pace of his breath. “You’ve been dancing for him.”
Sharai’s mind raced. Sweet saints, what could she do? His fury frightened her, but Lady Anne . . . She glanced at the stairwell. Would she help? Certes, Father Bernard would.
She needed time to reach him. She forced her voice to be calm. “Let me go.”
Aydin grabbed her braids, jerki
ng her head back. “You sleep with him. You betray me. Lady Anne herself has requested you come with me this night. Back to St. Giles. You are not welcome here.”
She must create doubt, delay him. She buckled her knees and fell backward.
Off balance, Aydin released her braids.
Sharai rolled away from him and pulled her dagger, thrusting it toward his face.
Aydin stopped.
She gave him an affronted look. “Must you believe all you hear, Aydin? I thought you smarter than that.”
“You are not his whore?”
“I have been honorable,” she lied, hoping for a chance to see Father Bernard and avoid the risk of Kadriya falling into Aydin’s hands. “Lady Anne hates all Rom. I mixed herbs for remedy of pain, and they think the worst.”
Aydin straightened, clearly wanting to believe her, blinking in confusion.
She moved quickly to the stairwell before he recovered, then spun around to face him. “I do not stay where I am not welcome. Kadriya and I shall pack our things.” She skimmed down the stairwell, her heart banging against her ribs.
Kadriya met her gaze then noticed her bloodied gown. Fear widened her eyes, and she grabbed Sharai’s hand.
“Come, Sprig. We must run.” They raced to the main door, where some unknown knights gathered. “Move aside,” Sharai shouted in her most authoritative voice.
The guards glanced at each other, and, in the confusion, Sharai and Kadriya brushed past them.
“Stop them.” Lady Anne’s voice sounded, shrill, behind them.
The guards rushed forward but their armor slowed them.
Sharai and Kadriya widened their lead, taking running leaps toward the church. Father Bernard would help them. Sharai would not allow Lady Anne to do this.
Three guards appeared in the growing darkness, stopping Sharai and Kadriya before they could reach the church. Maud and Britta and a cluster of other maids and servants gathered behind the guards.
Fine, then. I will find the right words.
Lady Anne caught up with them, panting. “The priest cannot help you, Sharai.”
She met Lady Anne’s eyes. “You defy your son’s wishes. And Father Bernard’s. He will not permit me to leave. He—”
“He has no say about it, you foolish girl. He has been detained for the evening.”
“What have you done to him?”
“He is busy in the village. I will have your trunk sent down to the bailey. You will leave us now.”
“You can’t do this. I love your son and he loves me.”
“You little tart. You would destroy him.”
Sharai looked to Maud for support, but Maud’s eyes were filled with fear and regret. If Maud defied Lady Anne, her future at Coin Forest would be short-lived.
Lady Anne forged on. “Your presence weakens him in the parish, in the courts, and with the king. You do not grasp the influence of the king’s court.” Lady Anne tilted her head. “You probably don’t know the parish influence.” Her brows arched with a look of superficial pity. “Do you even know what a parish is, dear?”
Sharai’s face grew hot. She knew a parish was a division of church, similar to individual tribes within one city, but she didn’t know of Lady Anne’s reference to influence. Sharai felt diminished under the noblewoman’s scrutiny, like that morn standing before Lady Emilyne, being painfully aware of her shortcomings. How could she have ever thought she’d gain acceptance here? “I may not know about the parish, but I know what Tabor feels. You care naught for him, only for your comfort.”
Lady Anne’s eyes narrowed. “’Tis you who seek wealth and station. You’re a clever girl, Sharai. Do you not see, in your heart, that if you leave, Tabor’s woes will end?”
“He loves me. I follow his wishes, not yours.”
“And did you promise that you would stay, knowing that your staying would mean destroying everything he loves? That’s right, Sharai, he loves other things besides you. He loves Coin Forest. Do you not see it in his eyes?” Lady Anne scanned the servants behind her. “He loves his family, and he loves the people here. He has worked hard to save them, and you’ll make him lose it all if you stay.”
Anne’s voice softened. “You’re not English. Go back to your Gypsies. Take this.” She held out a bag bulging with coins. “Forsooth, it’s what you wanted all along. Leave this night. For Tabor’s sake.”
The purse dangled from Lady Anne’s white hand, a red bag Sharai had sewn. It swayed gently, taunting her. It was what had lured her to Tabor initially. What she had wanted so desperately. Security.
It pierced her with guilt, as surely as Lady Anne’s words had.
She saw Tabor’s face in her mind, the warmth of his brown eyes, the depths of passion and love, and a dull ache of despair overwhelmed her. To save Tabor from ruin, she must leave him.
Her vision became blurred, and Sharai swung her arm at the bag, knocking it out of Lady Anne’s hand. It landed with a metallic chink on the bare ground a yard from her feet. “This is not what I want.” The words came out in a strangled sob. “You do not know me.”
Count Aydin stepped out from behind Lady Anne. “But I do.” His mouth was contorted with anger, his eyes raw with pain hardening to contempt.
He had heard all.
Aydin grabbed her arm. “Come.”
Kadriya rushed forward, kicking Aydin in the shin. “Let go of her. We don’t want to go with you.”
“No, Kadriya.” Sharai stepped toward her.
Aydin signaled to one of the knights, who picked Kadriya up like a bag of grain.
Kadriya screamed and kicked, trying to free herself.
Too late, too late. We stayed too long. Fear weakened Sharai’s legs and she turned in desperation to Tabor’s mother. Lady Anne thought her selfish and greedy, but surely she would not force them to leave with Aydin. She swallowed in terror. “Lady Anne, please. I vow we’ll leave, but prithee, do not send us with the count. He has already hurt me.” She touched her bleeding ear, proof of Aydin’s brutality. “Father Bernard can help me. We can go to a convent.”
Lady Anne laughed. “With no dowry?”
Sharai looked at the discarded bag of coins. “Very well. I’ll accept your money and give it to the abbess.”
“Nay.” Count Aydin pulled her along with him and retrieved the bag of money. He lowered his voice. “Resist, and we’ll kill Kadriya.” He lifted the bag of coins and spoke louder. “Your tribe needs this money, Sharai, and we need you back, with us.” He led her toward the drawbridge. “My thanks to you, Lady Anne, for your generosity. Good Eve.”
* * * * *
Aydin wiped the rain out of his eyes. Sir Geoffrey said they must ride at least seven more miles to reach the country manor where they’d find shelter and food. He lifted his shoulders, squirming. The fine drizzle had penetrated the collar of his cloak, soaking his neck and upper back.
His hips ached from straddling the wide back of the powerful destrier, and Aydin thought wistfully of the compact ponies used by his tribe.
Ahead, Sir Geoffrey held the reins of Sharai’s horse. Aydin should be the one to hold them, but Geoffrey mumbled something about convenience in travel and denied him. Another knight carried Kadriya on his horse. Somewhere after the drawbridge at Coin Forest, Aydin had lost control.
He cursed his poor judgment at trusting Hungerford. The swine. He’d so enraged Aydin with the chamber dancing rumors that he hadn’t thought clearly.
At first Aydin worried they’d try to kill him, but they had covered a fair distance without attempting to do so. Aydin took it as a new clue: whatever Hungerford’s plans were, it benefited him to keep Aydin alive.
This encouraged him. He would pick his time, take Sharai, and go. He’d punish her for whoring with Tabor. She would see her error and come to love him. Him!
He noted the smile Sir Geoffrey gave Sharai as he led her horse around a fallen tree on the path. He must escape with her before morn’s first light.
* * * * *
> Lord Hungerford cut the apple on the stall door and offered Shaker a quarter, being cautious to keep his hand flat.
The Arabian took the treat, lipping the palm of his hand, a snort of hot breath and a soft tickle on his skin that brought back a fleeting joy of childhood, when Hungerford received his first horse.
He laughed and rubbed Shaker’s forehead. “Good boy, you be a proud one, you.”
The stable boy approached, a question in his eyes. “You wish to ride again so late, my lord?”
“Nay. Just want to spend some time with my champion. ’Tis late. Get yourself some supper, boy, before they give it to the dogs.”
The boy smiled. “Yes, my lord.” He hurried into the darkness toward the great hall.
Hungerford walked to the tack repair table in the back of the building and settled into the saddler’s chair, waiting. He’d received no word since his hired knights had left with the Gypsy, night before last.
Finally he heard a horse approach, then the footfalls of dismount, then a stall door creaking open.
Carrying a curry brush, Hungerford walked back to Shaker.
The young man who arrived wore a brown leather bag with a white hawk embroidered on its side. He came from the neighboring village, Cadnam, with a message.
Still, Hungerford exercised caution. He passed him and brushed Shaker for several circles, only then venturing contact. “Dismal evening for travel, eh?”
The stranger’s green eyes met his. “Aye, and it has begun to rain. But thankfully the bird arrived.”
The homing pigeon Aydin had picked up in Cadnam. “Yes?”
He lowered his voice. “The Gypsy left Coin Forest this even, with the woman and the girl. Traveling east.”
Hungerford smiled. “Good, good.” The wily Gypsy had proven himself capable. He stored the brush on a shelf and reached in his pocket, producing two groats.
“But there is more.”
“What?”
“Lord Tabor is gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He left before your knights arrived. Left word with no one, but was last seen heading north and west.”