However, such soothing words as these only served to increase Miriam’s misery, thus making her bawl all the harder. What must Betsy think of her, a member of the first family in the land behaving in such a feeble manner?
“’Tis never easy,” Betsy said softly as she stroked Miriam’s back, “parting from a… friend.”
Gradually, the maid’s gently clucked words of comfort had the desired effect, applying a layer of soothing balm to Miriam’s unhappy heart and coaxing her down from the heady summit of despair.
Once Miriam had control of her emotions, Betsy pressed a square of linen into her hand. “Take this and dry those pretty of eyes of yours—it’s quite clean, my chick. You’re just over-tired, that’s all. Worn out by all the excitement, I expect. Now, let’s get you off to bed, eh? ”
Taking a juddering breath, Miriam said, “You know as well I do that fatigue is not the reason for my—”
“I know, my dear. But for the sake of that young man of yours, fatigue is the cause of your current discomposure.” A knowing look glinted in Betsy’s eyes. “It would not do if the world were to learn that your heart isn’t where it’s meant to be, now would it?”
She was right, of course. After last night’s pitiful performance, Miriam must take greater care to protect her secret. The king’s court was a constant hot-bed of intrigue and currying favor. Her nost unsuitable attachment could be worth a great deal to the courtier who first carried news of it to the king’s ears.
“Thank you for your wise counsel, Betsy,” Miriam said with a watery smile. “I shall endeavor to heed your words.”
Betsy patted her hand. “If you ever have need to unburden your heart again, you can trust me, my dear. I would not betray you or your secrets for the world. Nay—not even if the king himself were to demand it.”
It was good to know Miriam had at least one friend in this palace full of strangers.
“Di-Did Sir Anselm say anything at all, Betsy?”
The maid shook her head. “To tell you the truth, the poor fellow seemed quite overcome, so I didn’t push him. Young Percy, however, told me to thank you for your kindness, and to convey how much both he and his master would regret the loss of your gracious company on the long road home.”
Not as much as she would regret the loss of theirs. Not by a long, long way.
With the passage of every league, Anselm sank deeper and deeper into a sticky mire of regret and sorrow.
Miriam’s gift—a perfect ivory miniature of her beloved face, encased in an oval frame of gold—did nothing to alleviate his misery. Whoever the unknown artist was, they had managed to capture her likeness exactly. The painting showed a slightly younger version of Miriam, the residue of childhood still sparkling in her amber eyes, and the hint of a mischievous smile curving her full lips.’Twas an image full of hope and joy, the perfect study of a beautiful young woman who had yet to discover life’s, oftentimes, treacherous nature.
Attaching the miniature to a silken cord, Anselm immediately fastened Miriam’s gift about his neck, then he tucked it safely out of sight beneath his jerkin and shirt, over the very spot where his heart resided. Cool at first, the heat of his own skin quickly warmed the precious metal until Anselm no longer noticed the contrast between them.
Albeit in a small way, Miriam was now a part of him.
Throughout the long journey home, through foul weather and worse, Percy proved his worth time and again. Now a knight in his own right, the young man still continued in the role of Anselm’s squire, earning his master’s deepest gratitude.
’Twas Percy who arranged their accommodation and stabling each night; he who ordered their meals and coaxed Anselm to eat at least some of it. Percy also took it upon himself to answer the questions of curious strangers, and in doing so, he doubtless deterred the unwelcome attention of potential ruffians and vagabonds, too.
Since attaining all the elements of manhood, Percy’s confidence had increased at a most impressive rate. Anselm was immensely proud of him and of the fine man he’d become. Well did he recall how he had been himself as a young man, at a similar impressionable age. The approval of his elders had mattered a good deal to Anselm back then, and so he was unstinting in his praise now, ensuring Percy knew just how highly he valued him and his steady friendship.
“You’ve come a long way, Percy lad,” he said teasingly. “Your father will scarcely recognize you when he sees you again.”
But Percy only chuckled and handed Anselm the bowl of thin stew he’d managed to procure from a nearby farmhouse for their supper.
“The looking glass tells me I haven’t changed so greatly, m’lord.”
“Outwardly, perhaps not. But the greatest changes can only be felt, not seen. Believe me, in all the important ways, you are nothing like the boy who first set out with me on our quest. Oh, and do stop addressing me as m’lord, there’s a good fellow. You are my servant no longer, lest you have forgotten it. Indeed, you are more than my equal. Oh yes, you are,” Anselm said firmly when Percy looked ready to argue the point. “Your nature and character are first-rate, and your shield of honor gleams like new. Not a single dent or ding mars the beauty of its surface, and I doubt it ever will. Truly, your reputation is without blemish.”
In reply, Percy merely pulled a piece of gristle out from between his teeth and examined it closely by the firelight. “Ugh. This stew is hardly worth the good coin I paid for it.” Raising his tankard, Percy swilled his mouth with ale and took several gulps. “Ah!” He swiped his sleeve over his mouth. “But the ale is more than tolerable. Try some, master—”
“By all that is sacred! Do you never heed a word I say, Percy?”
“When it suits me to do so, of course.”
“Then will you kindly call me by my given name as I have repeatedly asked you to?” Really, Percy could be terribly stubborn at times. Positively mule-like.
“No, sir. Not until I feel I have earned that right, and not a moment before.”
“Oh, but you are impossible.” Anselm picked up his stew and raised a generous spoonful of the grease-slicked concoction to his lips. He grimaced. Even when served hot, he suspected the dish wouldn’t have been palatable. Served cold it was even worse. Positively indigestible. “On second thoughts,” he said lowering his spoon, “I think I’ll stick with my diet of bread and ale.” Had Forge been with him, the big dog would have gobbled up the bowl of tasteless mush in no time.
Not for the first time, Anselm longed for the company of a dog. Perhaps Martha might consider letting him have Forge? Then again, although the beast was tolerably fond of him, Anselm knew that his loyal doggy heart lay firmly with Vadim and his family. He’d seen evidence of this when he’d called at his brother’s chambers on the evening of the feast. When Anselm had entered the room, although Forge thumped his tail in greeting, he didn’t rise from his spot beside the twins’ cradle, occasionally grumbling in his throat whenever an unfamiliar servant strayed too near.
No. Forge had found his role just as Vadim and Martha had found theirs.
It was down to Anselm to find his own path. With the king’s pardon, he was now a free man, quite at leisure to travel where he would in pursuit of his fortune. The problem was, he suspected that his greatest fortune lay far behind him on the road he’d so recently traveled. Still, the world was a vast old place, full of infinite possibilities. Perhaps if he searched hard enough he might eventually find a treasure to succeed the one he’d lost?
Not replace her, mind. No one could ever do that.
“Are you ready to turn in, master?” Anselm looked up and found Percy had spread their bedrolls and blankets beside the fire. “I’ll take first watch, shall I?”
“No need, dear boy. I find I am in the mood to sit up and watch the stars for a while. Go on. Get your head down for a few hours while you can.”
This stretch of the Great North Road was renowned f
or being particularly wild. So far from the civilization of Stanrocc, it remained the haunt of outlaws and thieves, men who liked to prey on the unwary. Without the protection of a well-armed company, they could not afford to relax their guard.
“As you will, m’lord. Then I’ll say good night.” At least Percy had the good sense not to argue. “Be sure to wake me so that I can relieve you.”
“Yes, yes. Goodnight.”
But both of them knew that Anselm had no intention of doing anything of the kind.
Sleep didn’t come so easily to him as it once had.
Chapter Forty-One
The rain finally stopped, so Miriam, her family, and a few select guests, spent the morning on horseback, hunting in the extensive woodland and pasture that adjoined the palace. The lush green oasis was a welcome respite from the quagmire of life at court, and it was here that Lord Edgeway told the king of his brother’s sudden departure.
“He’s gone?” Rodmar turned in his saddle to look at Vadim. “What—without waiting to take proper leave of his king?”
“I’m afraid so, my liege. A matter of great urgency summoned him back to Edgeway early this morning, but my brother asked that I convey his deepest regrets to you and beg your forgiveness for his hasty departure.”
Rodmar looked slightly less aggrieved.“What could be so urgent that he would leave so abruptly, hmm?”
“He would not say, my liege.” Vadim glanced over to where Miriam sat toying with her reins. As their eyes met, her cheeks burned. Hopefully Rodmar would blame her high color on the morning’s exertions.
“I see.” Frowning, Rodmar leaned on the pommel of his saddle, staring out at the horizon.
“I hope he commissioned a new weapon before he left or at least took a new horse as I commanded he should.”
Lord Edgeway shuffled in his saddle, suddenly uncomfortable, but fortunately, Lord Reynard hastened to his rescue.
“With so many excellent sword-smiths in town, you are sure to receive a bill before too long, sire,” he said with a laugh. “Aye, and for a new horse, too, I daresay.”
“What say you, ladies?” Rodmar asked, turning to fix his womenfolk with his lion-like stare “I know you would not allow such a tasty morsel of news to slip by, unchewed.” For once, Miriam, Catherine, and Hortensia were all unusually quiet as they sat upon their horses waiting for the beaters to drive their quarry from the coppice. “But I suppose none of you know anything about this matter either?”
Unable to hold her brother’s gaze, Miriam lowered her gaze and studied her hands on the reins, examining the stitching of her black leather gloves—fur-lined, luxurious gloves that were rather too large for her own slim fingers.
“Come now, Catherine,” Rodmar persisted. “Don’t disappoint me. Surely you must have caught up with all the latest palace gossip by now?”
“Hmm?”
A quick glance told Miriam her sister was too distracted by a handsome knight sitting a little way from their group to pay any heed to Sir Anselm’s doings.
Thankfully, Hortensia intervened before Rodmar could direct his line of questioning elsewhere. “Does it really matter so much if one humble knight departs a little earlier than expected, husband? I’m sure Sir Anselm had a very sound reason for leaving us. Isn’t that right, Lord Edgeway?”
“Indeed, m’lady,” Vadim said as he battled to control his great black horse who was dancing on the spot, desperate for the off.
Just then, a great booming voice startled them all, including their horses.
“Good morning, my liege! What a fair morn this is. My! And the company is even prettier. Might I join you in your sport?”
Rodmar rolled his eyes. “That depends, Radleigh,” he said once his horse was steady beneath him once more.
“Upon what, my king?”
“Upon your motives, of course.” The king eyed the duke with suspicion. “If you have only followed us out here to make love to my sisters all day long then you should turn back now.”
The Duke of Radleigh was an attractive, large-set man of middling years—in the very prime of his life, as he frequently insisted. He was one of those rare happy people whose manners and good humor were equally charming to men and women alike.
“You wound me, Rodmar,” the duke answered with a grin. “How long have we been friends, eh? That such a terrible thought would even cross your mind cuts me to the quick… ”
As the two men chatted, Vadim discreetly reined back his horse, making room for the duke to take his place at Rodmar’s side. He came to a halt beside Miriam’s palfrey.
“M’lady,” said he with a polite bow of his handsome head.
Unlike the other courtiers who were already vying with one another to keep her entertained with their elaborate displays of wit and charm, Lord Edgeway was usually, refreshingly, silent. Although Miriam did not know him or his countess well, the little she had seen of them pleased her greatly.
Well… other than when Martha had been dancing with Anselm. But that had been naught but a misunderstanding.
“Lord Edgeway,” Miriam said, returning Vadim’s greeting. “I wonder if I might call upon your wife later today if it’s not inconvenient?”
Vadim smiled warmly. “Nothing would please Martha more. She’s keen to know you better—although, by rights, she should first call upon you, m’lady.”
“Oh, what use have I for more useless protocol? As your lady wife has two small babies demanding her care, surely it makes more sense for me to visit her than deprive the twins of their mother?”
Vadim chuckled. “I believe you and my wife will do rather well together, m’lady… ”
Unfortunately, there was no time for further conversation, for suddenly a great shout went up and a huge stag came crashing out from the cover of the forest. Someone blew a long low note on a horn: Give chase. Give chase!
Pushing their horses into a canter, they all set off in pursuit of their quarry.
As brief as it had been, her conversation with Vadim had warmed Miriam’s heart. If she could not be with Anselm, then surely being with his family was the next best thing.
“Lovesick, he is. Utterly smitten.”
Martha and her aunt were taking the twins for a ‘walk’ about the palace’s formal flower garden. The babies were at that particular age where they could just about pull themselves upright, but they couldn’t stay up on their little feet for long, so she and Lulu were walking them around the graveled walkways, holding their hands aloft like two chubby-legged puppets.
“The poor dear boy,” Lulu continued in the same sorrowful tone as before. Anselm had been gone for over a week, but she’d been moaning about him all morning. “It makes my heart ache to think of our Hansel all alone back in Edgeway with just his broken heart for company.”
Martha turned her head so her aunt wouldn’t see her smile. “Look, Maudie. See the pretty butterfly?”
“Buff-eye!” Maudie’s language skills were coming on a treat.
Ever the proud momma, Martha was delighted. “Oh, what a clever girl you are,” she cried stooping to kiss Maudie’s pudgy cheek. “Isn’t she, Lulu?”
But for once her aunt’s mind was elsewhere. In Edgeway.
“So terribly alone.” She gave a heartfelt sigh. “Ah, I would’ve gone with him if he’d only asked me.”
Martha rolled her eyes. Oh, yeah. Anselm would have really loved that. Nothing but him, Percy, Lulu, and miles and miles of open road. What a fun road trip that would have been. Not! Sometimes her aunt’s fondness for Anselm was just too much. It was like he was her long-lost son or something. “He’s not alone, Lulu. He has Percy, remember? Besides, Edgeway’s hardly uninhabited, is it?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Stop taking me out of twist, child.”
Great. Now she was back to spouting her odd sayings again—a sure sign of her displeasure.<
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“Fine. Then stop fussing about him. Anselm’s a big boy now, and he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
“And what about her? I suppose she’s doing fine too, eh?” Lulu jerked her head to where Princess Miriam walked along the high path that led to the forest. It was a walk she took most days. Always alone. Lost in her own little Anselm-shaped world, no doubt. Oh, she was friendly enough, but sometimes Miriam seemed like she wasn’t really there. Not in a crazy way. More like an absence of heart.
“That poor girl is just as miserable as our Hansel, although she won’t admit it.”
Martha’s stomach lurched. Oh, god. “Please tell me you haven’t discussed Anselm with her.”
“If you insist.” Lulu sniffed. “Then, no. I haven’t.”
Oh, but she bloody well had, though. That snit-like sniff of hers was a dead giveaway of her guilt. Honestly. One of these days her aunt’s lack of filter would land them all in a crockpot full of trouble. Or worse.
“Lulu, lovey. Please. You must listen to me. How many times must I say this?” Scooping an outraged Maudie up into her arms, Martha began another of her regular lectures. “This isn’t the twenty-first century. You can’t keep wading in with your hefty size fours, trampling around in matters that don’t concern you, no matter how much you want to. Oh, and you can’t go around doling out your special brand of wisdom to all and sundry whenever the mood takes you, either.”
Lulu gave another hard sniff. Judging by the obstinate set of the old lady’s jaw, she was in no mood for taking advice. Martha sighed. Maybe she should try approaching this from another angle.
“Okay, picture this. Imagine we’re back home and one of Queen Elizabeth’s grandchildren is going through a bit of a rough patch. You wouldn’t go up to them during a royal walkabout and start doling out advice on their personal lives, would you?”
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