Lord of Secrets

by Gillgannon, Mary

  He needed to strike a balance. To be fair but firm and decisive. These people were his subjects and were supposed to do his will. But if he dealt with them too harshly, they might come to hate him, and thwart him when they could. He sensed that was what had happened with Roscales. Despite the man’s desire to strip the castle of everything of value, William had discovered quite a number of things people had hidden away. Even the priest, drunken fool that he was, had obviously seen fit to conceal many of the finer items in the chapel. When Father Kennet opened the sacristy, William had seen the glint of gold objects partially hidden beneath snowy white altar cloths.

  Somehow he must win the favor and respect of these people. And yet, he must not be too lenient or they would take advantage of him. Thinking of the challenge he faced, William felt very weary. He fingered the sleeping potion, trying not to think of the woman who had provided it. Then he opened the stopper and gulped down two swallows.

  He left the solar and went to the nearby bedchamber, where there was a crude pallet on the floor, his bed for the time being. After taking off his boots, belt, tunic and braies, he lay down and sought to get comfortable. The pallet was too short for him, as always, and the sheepskin padding too thin and compacted to provide much cushion. ’Twas scarce more comfortable than sleeping on the ground. Nay, it was probably worse since the stone floor underneath was harder than the ground would be.

  But at least he had shelter if it rained. And all the things lacking in the castle could be remedied with time. He was a very fortunate man; he must remember that. As the lord of Higham, he had power and wealth. Indeed, the power he possessed was a bit unsettling. He wasn’t certain he was comfortable with the idea that he had the right to order anyone he encountered to do his will.

  He thought again the healer. Hearne said she was called Rhosyn. The name was obviously Welsh, but what did it mean?

  He recalled her skin, so smooth and perfect. There was a sheen to her complexion, a silken, almost silvery gloss to her tanned skin. He could not quite remember the exact feel of her flesh as he held her wrists; he’d been too distressed by her terror of him to think of such things. But now he thought that to caress her skin would be like stroking the finest silk.

  Fool. Lackwit. He must give up such fanciful musings. With effort, he forced his mind back to the many things he had to do on the morrow.

  Chapter Four

  “And how do you tell the difference between all these plants?” Glyda gestured to the herbs hanging on the walls in Rhosyn’s cottage.

  “I know most of them by the scent, the shape of the leaves or some other means.” Rhosyn sought to keep her voice even. She had been uneasy ever since Glyda came to her asking for medicine for a stomach ailment. Her attempts to get Glyda to wait outside while she mixed the herbs and steeped them had failed and Glyda had followed her into the cottage. As the miller’s wife, Glyda felt she could do what she wished, at least in the village.

  “Can you show me?”

  Rhosyn looked around, seeking plants so unalike that even Glyda would be able to see the difference. But Glyda was unwilling to wait. She pointed to two bundles hanging next to each other. “What about these?”

  Rhosyn examined the herbs Glyda had chosen. She knew immediately what they were, but wondered how she could convey the information to Glyda. She sniffed the plants, then invited Glyda to do the same. “See, how different they smell? One is acrid and astringent. The other sweeter.”

  Glyda smelled the plants and turned to Rhosyn. “They seem very much the same to me.”

  “The shape of the leaves is different as well. See? This one has leaves that are long and tapered. The other plant has rounded ones.”

  Glyda shook her head, clearly befuddled.

  “There is another way.” Rhosyn held one of the bundles away from the wall. “This one is tied with brown thread, the other, a pinkish one. A brown thread means this one is healing and should be applied to the skin, while pink means the herb must be taken in a tincture and also that it has stimulating properties.”

  “But how can you remember all these things? There must be dozens of plants here.”

  “I didn’t learn it all at once. I trained for years before I knew how to tell all the herbs apart and remember exactly what they are used for.”

  “Who taught you?”

  “My mother.”

  “And where is she now?”

  “She is dead.” The familiar grief stabbed Rhosyn. She prayed Glyda would not ask how her mother died. Even though she had a story prepared, Rhosyn feared Glyda would know it wasn’t the truth.

  Glyda cocked her head, like a bird studying a worm it’s about to devour. Her brown eyes were beady and bird-like, heightening the effect. “Where did she die? The place you are from in Wales?”

  “Aye.” She held her breath, praying Glyda would not press her further. She did not want to discuss anything about her past.

  “I would have thought you would stay and be a healer in your homeland.”

  “Branwyn, my aunt, was in declining health. She realized Higham would need a new healer.” Glyda knew all this. Everyone in the village did. That the woman was forcing Rhosyn to explain it all again was very aggravating.

  “And so you came here to take her place?”

  “Aye.” She would never forget her last hushed conversation with her mother. How Hywel had begged her to flee and seek protection with Hwyel’s brother Rhodri, who controlled lands to the west and north of Cardiff. It had been Rhodri’s idea to have Rhosyn take Branwyn’s place as healer at Higham. “I must go to my stillroom to make the decoction for you, Glyda. Do you wish to wait here? Or return later.”

  “Oh, I will wait.” Glyda’s smug smile sent a chill down Rhosyn’s spine. The village woman would continue to snoop, she had no doubt.

  Inside the stillroom, she chopped the chamomile and mint leaves to prepare the brew. Glyda had paid little attention to her before this. Her new interest in Rhosyn had come about because Lord Fitzhugh had come to her cottage yesterday. The gossips were already busy spreading stories that something had happened between the two of them. They could not guess how she despised the giant knight.

  She put the leaves in a bowl and set about crushing them. It was shocking how much the encounter with the Saeson had rattled her. It wasn’t merely that she knew his kind were a threat to anyone of her race, especially a woman. There was also the matter of how big and physically powerful he was. That was why she had failed in killing him, or even injuring him severely. She’d had to reach up so high to stab him and he’d reacted so quickly. It was amazing her knife had hit his neck at all. The small cut she’d made would not have slowed down even a child.

  And he had been on her instantly, seizing her wrists and then her arms. That had been worse, the way he held her so close. Close enough that she could see the blond stubble on his jaw and the pure clear blue of his eyes. Cornflower blue. Or maybe they were the color of the summer sky.

  But the expression in those eyes had not been what she expected. He had looked puzzled more than angry. And his voice was not the sharp bellow of a man enraged, but the firm tone you used with a child. That was how he had treated her—like an errant child. It was insulting.

  She felt a flare of anger and stoked it. Thinking of his superior manner was much better than remembering his words. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her. And he hadn’t. If anything, she had hurt herself while struggling to be free of him.

  “Will you be much longer?” Glyda called from the doorway of the stillroom. Rhosyn reminded herself that she must not let herself be distracted. She must banish the foul, despicable English lord from her thoughts.

  “I’ve readied the herbs. Now they need to steep.” She slipped past Glyda at the stillroom door and went to the hearth to fetch the water she kept nearby. Putting a pot of it on the glowing coals, she waited for the water to begin bubbling. When it did, she grabbed the handle of the pot with a cloth and carefully carried the steaming vessel int
o the stillroom and poured the water over the crushed herbs.

  Glyda continued to watch her. While the woman made Rhosyn uneasy, the routine of preparing the brew was calming. She knew how to do this. So far there had been no complaints about her healing skills, although they had not truly been challenged yet. She’d never been called upon to serve as midwife, and that was a task that could test even the most experienced wisewoman.

  “It’s still very hot,” she told Glyda. “Are you certain you don’t want me to bring it to your cottage when it’s ready?”

  “Oh, I will wait. This is all so intriguing.” Glyda moved into the stillroom, effectively trapping her. “So, what was it that Lord Fitzhugh wanted?”

  “A sleeping potion.” Rhosyn sought to keep her face expressionless.

  Glyda let out a startled laugh. “Why would a young knight like him need a sleeping potion?” She stepped closer and her voice grew low and intimate. “Unless you mean he expressed the desire for a companion to warm his bed. As a married woman I can tell you there is nothing like a quick tumble to make a man fall asleep.”

  “He asked for an herbal elixir to ease him into slumber.”

  “You could have made up something and taken it to the castle.”

  “I offered to do that. But I think he feared I might give him something that would sicken him. He wanted to see me prepare it.”

  “Why would he think you would give him something to cause him harm?”

  Would this woman never leave her alone? “He is taking over the demesne of a man who has held it for some time. He might fear Roscales has supporters here in the village who wished him ill.”

  Glyda nodded. “That might be true. Although Roscales was not well-liked and this man seems quite reasonable, even pleasant. Not to mention, very comely.”

  That was why Glyda was really here. Not to find out what Fitzhugh wanted with Rhosyn, but whether Rhosyn had any interest in him. She tested the brew with her finger to see if it had cooled enough. “Aye, Lord Fitzhugh is comely, if you favor fair-haired giants.”

  “And you do not?”

  Rhosyn shook her head. “Not to mention, as a wise woman, I believe it is best to avoid such entanglements. My responsibility is to those who need my aid. I can’t be distracted by the demands of a man, especially one like Fitzhugh. He has far too much power already.”

  She could feel Glyda’s eyes on her, assessing. Rhosyn hope her words sounded genuine. It was the truth. If she never saw the huge knight again, she would be well-pleased.

  She strained some of the brew into a cup for Glyda to drink and put the rest in a pottery jar for her to take home.

  “What should I give you in payment?” Glyda asked after she’d drained the cup.

  “Food is always welcome. Perhaps some carrots and beans from your garden. Or a cabbage if they’re ripe.”

  Glyda nodded. “I’ll send my son Ned with some vegetables.” She handed the cup to Rhosyn and took the jar, then headed to the door. Rhosyn followed.

  As soon as they were outside, Melyn Bach appeared. The small yellow cat greeted Rhosyn with a meow, clearly asking to be petted. Rhosyn resisted the urge to do so.

  Glyda nodded to the cat. “Is it yours?” Glyda’s tone was sly again.

  Rhosyn hesitated. Most people tolerated cats because they were useful, but there was a tradition of wise woman befriending the creatures. Perhaps it was because most healers lived alone and sought the companionship. The only problem was when people grew suspicious of a healer and started so see something sinister in their close relationship to an animal.

  Rhosyn gestured to cat the off-handedly. “She started coming around soon after I arrived here. But I would not say she belongs to me.” Which was true. Melyn Bach came and went as she pleased.

  “Hmm.” Glyda gave Rhosyn a shrewd, probing look. Finally, she ambled off.

  Rhosyn waited until the miller’s wife was out of sight and then bent to pet Melyn Bach. She told herself she should not be so wary and fearful. Branwyn had lived here for near twenty years and no one had ever treated her with anything but warmth and respect. What happened to Rhosyn’s mother was not typical. And it was all the fault of that monster, Randolph Bellame. She shuddered at the thought of him.

  *

  “Going back to the village?” Rollo called in a faintly mocking tone as William and Adam strode toward the portcullis.

  Curse it! Why did that man always seem to be around? As if he was lurking to see if William made a mistake in judgment. Who knew, mayhaps Rollo was spying for his father. He wouldn’t put it past his sire. “There are things I need to do there,” William called over his shoulder.

  “You should take more of an escort. You don’t yet know how the local people feel about you. It seems foolish to walk down there unescorted. Especially since you’re not wearing a hauberk.”

  William turned and narrowed his eyes at Rollo. He would not let the sneaky cur get the best of him. “Adam is coming with me. And we both have our swords.”

  “If you think that’s enough. I’d be happy to go along. I have naught to do this morning. I’m not on guard duty until later.”

  “Adam’s company will be sufficient.”

  “As you will.” There was the usual sneer in Rollo’s tone.

  “That man is like a wasp,” William said as he and Adam walked through the gate. “Always flying around, trying to get a sting in.”

  “He is that. I’ve never understood why he constantly goads you. It seems to me with your new position, all the men in the garrison should be eager to court your favor.”

  “Rollo is not one to court any man’s favor. He prefers to try to get his way through intimidation and harassment.” Unless he seeks my father’s favor. He may think I will fail and he will rise higher in my father’s esteem because he predicted it.

  “I’m glad you discouraged him from accompanying us. I think Rollo is the sort to set the villagers against us. Having good rapport with them is going to aid us, at least in the matter of getting the castle properly furnished.”

  “I’m going to see Adreth the carpenter today about the furniture. But it will be the women who will have to help me with weaving blankets and bedding and the like. I don’t know any of their names, as Hearne didn’t see fit to introduce me to them. I mean to find him and have him do so now. I wonder that this castle doesn’t have a place for weaving and dyeing to be done. That would be more efficient than having the women do everything in their dwellings, which are usually cramped. They could bring their children to the castle. As you know, that is my mother’s arrangement at Castle Raimbeau. To make linen cloth requires flax,” he continued. “I don’t know if they grow any here, or if the women know how to tease the fibers out to make thread. But certainly there is plenty of wool to make garments and blankets and the like.”

  Adam chuckled. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about the making of cloth.”

  “My mother, shrewd and competent woman that is, wanted to make certain I knew something of the details of maintaining a noble household. Thank heavens for that. If I did not have some basic knowledge of these things, I would face even more difficulty than I already do.”

  “What would most men, without such knowledge, do in this situation?”

  “I suppose they would rely on the advice of their wife, or if they didn’t have one, a female relative or perhaps their leman. When Roscales’s wife died, he took one of the village women to his bed and gave her authority over the castle household. Although, apparently, she was much resented.”

  “Perhaps you will have to do that—take a leman. Either that or a wife.”

  William grimaced. He had no desire to marry or take a lover. “My plan is to find some village woman who has some basic skills and ask for her aid. It won’t be the same as having a chatelaine, but perhaps I can get by like that for a time.”

  “I’m certain you can find some younger woman will be pleased to help you.” Adam’s blue eyes gleamed with amusement.

&n
bsp; “Exactly what I’m not looking for. In my experience, young maids are usually too busy flirting to do any real work.”

  “At least with you, they are.”

  William regarded the knight with a raised brow but said nothing more.

  Once in the village they tracked down Aldreth, a lanky older man with long gray-blond hair. His blue eyes lit with anticipation when William told him what he wanted. “’Twill be a pleasure to work on pieces more complex than stools or plowshare handles. You said you need bedframes, benches and chairs. What about coffers and armoires?”

  “Can you make things like that?”

  “Of course. When I was young, I trained with a master carpenter at Chester.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “There seemed to be better opportunities, milord. And there were. I made many things for Lord Roscales.”

  Which he took with him, William thought bitterly. “What sort of supplies will you need?”

  “A large oak fell in a storm last year, so I have plenty of wood for simple furniture. And I’ve saved back some applewood and walnut for fancier pieces. But I was wondering if I should bring my tools and wood to the castle. My workshop here is very small.” Aldreth gestured to a small daub and wattle structure behind his cottage.

  “An excellent idea.” It would be convenient to have the carpenter nearby. Then the furniture he made could be placed where it was needed as soon as it was finished. William smiled to himself. Some things were falling into place. Perhaps the task facing him was not as overwhelming as it appeared. Now, if he could get the women in the village to work at weaving. And find someone who could aid him in running the castle.

  Chapter Five

  They next went to visit the reeve, a good-sized man with a square jaw and pale blue eyes. William asked Hearne if he could think of a woman from the village who might be able to help organize making cloth and possibly even aid in the running of the castle.