Alas My Love (3 page)

Tancred shook his head in wonder at the man. “You have great faith indeed to wander from place to place with little more than the cloak. It is always true that God provides for your hunger?”

Artimas smiled. “Do I look underfed, my friend?”

This time Tancred did smile, for the man was rather stocky and bore the look of one who was never late to the noon meal. “You do not,” Tancred finally replied.

“Then let my appearance be evidence of God’s goodness. Come, we can warm this meat and reason together.”

Tancred could only stare after the man as he made himself comfortable by the hearth fire. Was this some divine intervention to keep him from giving in to his despair? Surely God cared little for whether he continued to hope for redemption. Yet if not by God’s hand, then from where else could Artimas have come? This hovel was well off the main roadway and of little concern to anyone for miles around.

Tancred moved to join the man at the fire. “How came ye by this way?”

“I was led,” Artimas replied simply.

“Led? By whom?”

Artimas glanced upward. “By He who always leads me.”

Tancred couldn’t accept the deliberate confidence of the man before him. “And why would God bring you here?” he asked gruffly.

Artimas patted the beaten dirt floor. “You might best answer that question yourself.”

It was some hours past their first meeting when Artimas looked up from across the fire and questioned, “So ye stand accused of something ye did not do?”

“Aye,” Tancred replied with a dark scowl marring his features. “The blood of my parents is upon my head. I did not kill them, but all of England believes it so, mayhaps even all the world.”

Artimas smiled indulgently. “I have seen a fair piece of this world in the last few years and I have yet to hear your name mentioned amidst the crowds.”

Tancred’s face relaxed and for a moment he fell silent. “I seek the true killer,” he finally said in a reserved manner.

“Ah,” Artimas said with a grin, “to free your name and see justice served.”

“Partly.” The scowl had returned and the deep brooding in his eyes was now intensified with bitter hatred.

“Only partly?” puzzled Artimas. “For what other purpose would you desire this madman be captured?”

Tancred met Artimas’s gaze. “Revenge,” he stated softly, then with more clarity repeated the word. “Revenge!”

Chapter 3

Helena awoke to find a plump, young woman lingering at her bedside. She focused her eyes and realized the woman was smiling at her. “There ye be,” the woman said as if Helena had accomplished some wondrous feat. “We were beginning to fret.”

“Where am I?” The stiffness in her body caused Helena to cry out in pain.

“There, there,” the woman said, easing Helena back to the straw mattress. “ ’Tis no good your trying to move about. Rest is what you need.”

“Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I might ask you the same thing. I am Mary. My husband, Felix, found you in the field as he prepared to sow seed. He brought you to me and I have cared for you.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Helena murmured, gingerly stretching her limbs. “What is this place?”

“ ’Tis Gavenshire.” Mary’s voice betrayed her surprise. “The castle lies yonder.”

“I’m not familiar with it. Is it near York?”

“Not so near. Closer to Brid.”

“Brid?” Helena questioned.

Mary shook her head at the strange young woman in her bed. “Ye know naught of it? How did you come to be upon these lands?”

Helena frowned. Memory served her faithfully, but a reminder of her brother’s henchmen gave her reason to remain quiet. “I know naught,” she finally replied. In truth, she knew naught of Gavenshire.

“You have no memory of the journey?”

Helena did not answer. She watched Mary grow increasingly uncomfortable.

The silence hung heavy between them for several moments before Mary finally cleared her throat and asked, “What. . .what is your name?”

“Helena. That much I remember.” Helena hoped it would ease the furrowed brow of her caretaker.

“ ’Tis something,” Mary said, trying to force a smile. “I will bring you broth to warm your bones. Mayhaps with food, your memory will return.”

“Mayhaps.”

Helena watched as Mary bustled around the one-room house. The accommodations were poor and such that Helena instantly felt guilty for the trouble she was causing. Silently appraising Mary’s meager surroundings, Helena knew that anything the other woman offered would be a sacrifice. Despite the pain, Helena forced herself to sit up.

“There’s no need to put yourself out on my account,” Helena stated. The drab little house seemed to grow smaller by the minute.

“ ’Tis no bother, Milady,” Mary said, clearly acknowledging that she accepted Helena as her superior.

Helena said nothing about this. She watched as Mary put more peat on the fire before bringing her a wooden bowl filled with steaming broth.

“This will see you right,” Mary said with a meager smile. “I am sorry ’tis not more.”

Helena sampled the soup. “ ’Tis fine broth—the best I’ve ever known.”

In spite of her concern, Mary beamed at the compliment.

“Thank you, Milady.” She quickly went back to the fire and stoked it with a poker.

Straightening up and looking again at Helena, Mary spoke.

“Ye are gentle born, of that there is no doubting.”

Helena swallowed hard and nodded. “I suppose ’tis true enough. The evidence is upon my body.” She waved a free hand over her surcoat of velvet.

“Aye, that and the way you talk. Mayhaps someone at the castle knows of you.” She left it at that and bustled over to the only other piece of furniture in the house, the herb-laden table.

Mary’s plump frame did nothing to slow her down. Helena watched the woman dart around the room and decided to leave well enough alone. If she showed fear or objection at Mary’s suggestion, it would no doubt give her further concern. Besides, Helena reasoned, no one at the castle would know her because she had never heard of Gavenshire.

Helena relaxed, drank the soup, and watched Mary at work. She was an earthy creature with a dark brown braid that hung down her back. Her coarse wool kirtle of woad blue did little to make her more attractive, yet there was kindness about Mary that made Helena feel like the shoddy one.

Mary glanced up from where she ground herbs. “Feeling better?”

“A little, thank you. I am certain that your fine care has given me health.” Helena finished the broth and started to get up.

Mary rushed to her side. “Nay, stay and rest. My husband will return shortly and we will send word to the castle for your care.”

Helena eased back against the straw-filled mattress with a sigh. She glanced across the room to the only window and noted the fading light. There was nothing to do but wait for Mary’s husband.

Soon enough the sound of someone nearing the hovel caused Mary to perk up and cock her head. “ ’Tis Felix,” she confirmed for Helena’s benefit, then went to open the door and greet her husband.

Helena watched as a large filthy man in a ragged wool tunic entered the door frame. The man had huge hands, which quickly wrapped themselves around Mary’s stout waist.

“Wife,” Felix said with a grin, “ ’tis the face of an angel ye have.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

“Go on with ye.” Mary’s mock protest was given with a smile.

Felix noted that Helena was awake and dropped his hold on Mary. “So ye have come around.”

Helena nodded. “Mary tells me that you found me in the fields. I am most grateful for your care and hospitality.”

Felix noted Helena’s refined manner of speech with an arching of his brow and a questioning glance at his wife. Helena saved Mary the trouble of explanation.

“My name is Helena, although I can scarce offer more than this. Your wife suggested that someone from the castle might best assist me. I would be grateful if you would send word on my behalf.”

Felix nodded. “Were you traveling alone?”

“I–it seems so.” Helena hated being caught up in the deception, but she feared reprisal from Roger more than the consequence of her actions.

“Ye have no memory of it?”

“I–I’m confused.” Helena sat up and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. “If it is too much trouble to send word, I can attempt the journey myself.”

“Nay, I could not let you,” Felix replied firmly. “I will find the bailiff and ask him to settle the matter.”

“Thank you, Felix.” Helena’s voice rang sincere even if her heart questioned the sanity of her actions.

Felix was to only have been gone for a matter of minutes, but instead was gone for nearly half of the hour. Mary began to fret, and Helena worried that she’d somehow caused the man grief. When he did finally reappear, he came with a stranger by his side.

“Milady,” the man said, stepping forward to offer his hand to Helena. “I am Devon Pemberton. I am the estate steward for the duke of Gavenshire.”

Helena allowed him to help her to her feet and then she curtsied. “Sire, I am Helena.”

Devon Pemberton was a tall, handsome man, and Helena found him most reassuring with his warm smile and bright eyes. He eyed her over from head to toe and back again before speaking. “Felix tells me you have no memory of your kin or home. Is this true?”

“My travels have exhausted me, I fear. I remember only a little of the trip, but nothing of the travelers. I’m certain I know naught of the names of those who went with me.” Helena comforted herself in the fact that this was no lie.

“ ’Tis no matter. You are welcome at the castle, and we will search to find your family on the morrow. Be ye well enough to walk, or shall I send a cart for you?”

“I can walk,” Helena said hesitantly. She avoided his searching eyes for fear she would break down in her charade. “I would like to see these people rewarded,” she quickly added. “They have been most kind in caring for me and have shared their meager foods with me as well.”

Devon nodded. “It will be done. Felix, come with me to the castle and I will issue you food.”

Felix and Mary both gasped in surprise and exclaimed in unison, “The castle!”

“ ’Tis not necessary, Sire,” Felix protested. “We gave nothing more than the good Lord would have asked of us.”

Devon smiled and took firm hold of Helena’s arm. “A kindness, nevertheless, and one worthy of repayment. Come.”

Helena felt the strength in Devon’s hand as he pulled her forward. She was deeply aware of his presence.
He is a powerful man,
she thought. He was determined and self-assured, and the very nearness of him gave her cause to think about her beloved Tanny. Would he be as tall as this man? Would his hair be soft and brown like this?

Tanny had dark hair, she reminded herself. Rich brown hair the color of newly plowed dirt and eyes so dark they were nearly black. She could almost see him in Devon’s place, and her heart skipped a beat.
Where are you, my love? Why am I not upon your arm instead of this man’s?

In the soft blue and purple haze of twilight, Gavenshire Castle rose beyond the village. The town was closing down for the night, and the soft glow of firelight illuminated the windows of the houses as they passed by. Helena felt a chill and gave an involuntary shudder.

“Are you cold, Milady?” Devon inquired.

The silhouette of his face in the fading light caused Helena to tremble more. Fear was gnawing at her like a hound to a bone.

“Aye,” she whispered, unable to offer any other explanation.

Devon removed his own cloak and placed it around her shoulders. “This should keep you warm enough.”

Helena snuggled down in the warmth, grateful that Devon could not see the blush that crossed her face.

Gavenshire Castle was a grand affair, Helena decided. She reviewed the bailey as they crossed to the outer stairs and noted the large number of men who guarded the grounds. Torches had been placed strategically to offer light and, in their glow, Helena could make out stables and mews where the falcons were kept.

Devon’s ever-present hand upon her cloaked arm made Helena painfully aware of her inability to escape. There was no reason to fear, she reminded herself. But her thought were not all convincing.

She turned at the stairs to find Felix’s face awash in wonder.

“ ’Tis a fine place, is it not?” she questioned, and Felix smiled broadly.

“To be sure, Milady. To be sure. I must remember every detail and tell my Mary.” Devon smiled at the exchange and assisted Helena up the stone stairs.

The castle was fairly quiet, even though the evening meal was in progress. Supper was not as much of an affair as was the noon meal. Many people simply took their food to their own chamber and spent the evening in retired silence or quiet conversation.

“Would you care to dine, Helena?” Devon questioned.

“Nay.” She was not anxious to be made the center of attention.

Sensing this, Devon led her to a small room off the great hall. “Wait here while I see to Felix. I will find the duke and announce your arrival.”

❧

Helena watched as Felix padded off in dumbfounded silence behind Devon. She then allowed herself to survey her surroundings, noting the red and blue woolen hangings that draped the walls. Seeing the way they ruffled in particular spots, Helena had little doubt they blocked out the draft and helped to keep the room warm.

The chamber looked to be a private solar of some type. Perhaps it was a place where the duke received guests privately. At this thought, Helena felt herself weaken. She sank down in the nearest chair and wondered as to what type of man the duke of Gavenshire might be. Would he find it acceptable to take in a young woman with no memory and little more than gentle speech and velvet clothing to prove her right at hospitality in his home?

It was several minutes before Devon returned. With him came a rugged-looking man whose brown beard made him look to be the senior of Devon. On his arm was a woman who was great with child. Helena instantly rose to her feet and smoothed out her skirt.

“May I present the duke and duchess of Gavenshire,” Devon announced.

“Your Grace,” she said, curtseying first to the man and then again to his
wife.

“I am Arianne,” the woman said, taking Helena’s hand. “Devon is my brother, and he tells me that you are to be our guest. I am glad to receive you, for there is a definite shortage of women in this castle.”

“Don’t I know that,” Devon said with a laugh.

“Don’t mind him.” The duchess instantly put Helena at ease. “Are you hungry or would you prefer I show you to your room so you might rest?”

“Please, Milady,” Helena replied, “do not put yourself out on my behalf. I would not wish to overtax you. ’Tis you who should rest and care for yourself.”

The duke laughed. “If you can get my wife to heed your counsel, you may have a permanent home here.” Then extending Helena a broad smile, he added, “I am Richard. I will bear up with no formalities between friends. Why don’t you sit and tell us how you came to be here?”

Helena swallowed hard. She had allowed the villeins to believe a lie, as had the estate steward, and now she was to lie to a duke and his wife. The moment was too much for her and nearly before Devon could catch her and break her fall, Helena fainted dead away.