Hostage Bride (22 page)

‘Yes, of course. We shall prepare for a feast on your return. May God be with you, my lord,’ she said.

‘Go to your chamber now, my lady. I shall come to take my leave of you before I go.’

She inclined her head and smiled. ‘I shall await your coming, my lord.’

Rosamunde left the hall, closely followed by Elspeth and Lilia. They went up to the tower rooms where they were housed.

‘It is momentous news,’ Elspeth said excitedly. ‘England will be a better place if His Majesty has returned.’

‘Yes, it must be happy news for all His Majesty’s loyal subjects,’ Rosamunde replied.

She bid her ladies good night, saying that she would send for Maire when she was ready to disrobe. She went to the narrow window of her chamber, looking down at the courtyard. Men were scurrying here and there as horses and armour were prepared. Wagons carrying food and equipment would follow, but the men-at-arms would travel light and fast.

It was a race against time to meet with the King and show support, to protect him if need be against an attempt to murder him. Rosamunde knew that Raphael must leave at once but, remembering the attention he had paid her at supper, she could not help regretting that he must leave before their wedding.

‘Rosamunde.’ A tremor went through her as she heard his voice. She turned and saw him, something in his gaze telling her that he too was reluctant to leave. ‘I wanted to say farewell in private. Last time we parted in anger and I would not have it so again.’

She smiled and moved towards him, her hands outstretched. ‘Know that you have my blessing, my lord. I

might wish you could stay longer but I know you have your work to do.’

‘You are very understanding.’ He took her hands, looking down into her face. ‘I would not leave you again so soon if it were not of vital importance. I must go to the King to show my support.’

‘I know that you must go. I pray that you will return safely to wed me.’

‘I long for it,’ Raphael said, his voice deep with passion. ‘I have come to know myself these past weeks and I want only to live in peace and content with you, my love. This Christ’s Mass showed me how much more you bring to my life and the lives of my men. This place hath needed a woman’s gentle touch for many years.’

Rosamunde’s heart leaped. He had called her his love—but could he mean it?

‘I long to be your wife,’ she answered tremulously. ‘I know that you may be in danger, my lord. I do not seek to cling or to bind you in any way, but you should know that you have my love. I loved you that day you saved my kitten, and I love you now. My love grows stronger with every day.’

‘You are as beautiful within as without,’ Raphael replied huskily. He reached out, drawing her close to him, pressing her hard into his body as he bent his head to kiss her lips. ‘My sweet Rosamunde.’

She clung to him, giving her lips and her love without reserve. When he’d left her the last time in such anger, it had almost broken her heart, but this time he would
take her love with him. He must know that she was his heart and soul so that he would come back to her.

‘Return to me safely, my lord.’

‘I shall,’ he promised and his fingers cupped her cheek. ‘How could I fail when I have so much waiting for me?’

Rosamunde smiled and let him go. It was hard to control the tears, and her desire to call him back, but she knew that she must allow him to do his duty. A woman must wait for her husband to return. Life was often harsh and cruel; women died in childbed and men were killed in battle. A woman must not weep and hold her husband back, though she might shed many tears in private.

Surely life could not be so utterly unfair as to take him from her before she had even had the chance to be a wife?

‘M
y lord said that we should prepare for a feast on his return,’ Rosamunde said to Mellors a week later. ‘I know that some of the cattle were killed when we salted the meat for winter, but we cannot serve His Majesty such fare. Have we fatted cattle and sucking pig?’

‘Yes, my lady. The wild boar killed yesterday was roasted last evening, but there is plenty of fish in the ponds and we also have duck, geese and capon.’

‘It is a pity we have no sheep,’ Rosamunde said regretfully. ‘A piece of fat mutton makes a tasty stew with onions and worts. Has my lord said nothing to you of purchasing breeding ewes and a ram?’

‘He hath not had the time to attend to the lack as yet,’ Mellors said. ‘Though I believe it his intention.’

‘We should send men to market to buy sheep and the kind of luxuries that the King would require. Not lampreys, for they must be fresh and we do not know
when my lord will return, but sugar, honeycomb and nuts. My ladies and I will begin to prepare sweetmeats when we have news of Lord Mornay’s return,’ she said.

‘Before he left, my lord instructed me to obey your orders in these matters, my lady. All that you have asked for shall be bought at the markets, and anything that cannot be purchased locally will be sent for to London.’

‘Then everything will be as it should be for my lord’s return and the King’s visit,’ she said happily.

‘My lord also instructed that silks, velvets and good quality wool should be purchased from the merchants of London. Has my lady any preferences for the colour these should be?’ Mellors enquired.

‘I believe Lord Mornay’s favourite colours are blue, silver and black. I like these colours, but also favour green. For my ladies I should like some lighter materials to make gowns for the spring and summer, and these should be rich brown, grey or a figured damask for best. If you order a selection I shall allow them to choose.’

‘Very well. Ethelred, the wife of Boris the huntsman who was injured, told me that you said she and her children could work at the castle if they chose, at least until Boris is well again,’ the steward remarked.

‘Yes; I thought it better for them to be together as a family. I am sure we can find something for the children to do, can we not?’ she said.

‘The girl can help in the kitchens, and the boy wants to train as a squire, so for the moment he can be put to cleaning the men’s armour and working in the stables.’

Rosamunde smiled. ‘That is excellent, Mellors. I

think we should encourage more of the villagers to work here, either in the castle or as craftsmen. I am certain that some of our excellent craftsmen need apprentices to help them.’

‘I believe that we shall have more people asking for work now that you are to marry my lord. The castle has come alive, and if we have flocks of sheep once more there will be work for both women and children,’ he said.

Rosamunde nodded her agreement and they parted. It was January now and deep winter. Because the morning was bitter-cold with hoarfrost on the ground, she had planned to visit the kitchens that morning to make an inventory of what spices and stores they might need. The weather was too inclement to go foraging with her ladies, but as soon as it cleared a little she would venture to the woods and discover what fresh herbs and roots might be found.

* * *

Richard was not yet landed in England. The message had been hasty, but the news was that he had been freed from his imprisonment and might soon be on a ship headed for England.

Forced to kick his heels and wait, Raphael thought with regret of Rosamunde’s warm arms. Her image had begun to haunt his dreams and when he woke now it was with a smile on his lips.

At last the grief and guilt he had felt for so long over Messalina’s death had eased and he could no longer see the reproachful face of his dead wife when he slept.

It is not that I have forgotten you,
he told her in his
thoughts.
You were my wife, and I shall always honour your memory, but life goes on and I must find a new way.

He was beginning to see that his feelings for Messalina had always been protective and chivalrous and he had never truly been in love with her. His feelings for Rosamunde were very different.

Rosamunde was sweet and loving, but she was also both brave and practical, and did not cling or weep as Messalina had when he’d left her. He knew that he wanted to be with her, to hold her in his arms and have her in his bed. He had vowed he would not love again, and yet he found the waiting irksome and wished to be at home with the woman who had unexpectedly filled the empty space in his heart.

Was what he felt for Rosamunde really love? It was so different from the feeling he’d had for Messalina. Instead of wanting to escape for a few hours, he found himself longing to be with her. The need seemed to grow stronger every day that they were apart and he was already increasingly impatient to see her again though they had been apart for no more than three weeks.

* * *

Would Raphael never return to her? Rosamunde stared out of her window at the courtyard below. More than eight weeks had passed since Raphael had left to meet the King. They had received but one brief message to say that as yet His Majesty had not landed, and since then no word had come.

She was constantly busy, but sometimes the loneliness
was almost unbearable. Rosamunde thought of her father and wondered how he was. Yet she could not leave the castle to visit him because Raphael had asked her to remain until he returned.

Supposing he did not return? The thought filled her with black despair. If she never saw him again, she would not wish to live. She did not even wish to think about what she would do if he were killed in battle.

After a week of bitter frosts the sun was shining at last. The month of February had almost passed and there was finally a touch of spring in the air. Each day Rosamunde looked eagerly for word of Raphael’s return, but knew that it might still not come for weeks. It might be that there would be fighting and Raphael would be needed at his King’s side. Sometimes she could not sleep at night, tossing restlessly as she wondered if he were in danger, and yet something inside her told her all was well.

They had ordered liberally from the markets, as Raphael had instructed, and the stores were now well stocked with sugar, salt, spices, flour and dried fruits. However, they lacked fresh herbs. Rosamunde had set in order the creation of a herb garden within the castle grounds, but it would take months before she could expect to harvest enough for their needs. So she called Elspeth and Lilia to her and told them to bring their baskets. Taking three of their most trusted men-at-arms, they left the castle well wrapped up in cloaks and shawls to search for herbs, leaves, roots and anything in the hedgerows that would help to bring flavour to their food.

Both Rosamunde and Elspeth had skills at making cures, so they would also take bark and lichens to help in the preparations of their cures.

It was good to be out in the fresh air again, though it was still cool despite the sun.

‘We shall pick as much as we can as swiftly as we can and return to the castle,’ Rosamunde told her ladies. ‘It is pleasant now but there is a hint of rain in the air.’

‘A t this time of the year a mist can come down swiftly,’ Elspeth agreed. ‘We should not be wise to stay out too long, my lady.’

They had agreed that they would not go too deeply into the woods. Many of the herbs they were looking for would grow close to the stream or in the hedgerows, and the lichens they sought grew on the stone walling that separated the lord’s demesne lands from the common ground.

Lilia was sent to forage beside the stream. Elspeth knew where the best lichens were to be found, and Rosamunde concentrated on the edge of the woods. It was too early to find violets, but she soon discovered a patch of snowdrops, and then aconite, and knelt to pick the flowers. Seeing a further patch a little deeper into the woods, she decided to venture further than she’d intended. She could see some interesting growths on a clump of trees and suspected they would be useful in making certain cures for a skin complaint the men often suffered with during the long winter. Glancing back, she saw that two of her men were close by, though one
had wandered in the direction of the stream where both Elspeth and Lilia were now working.

Intent on her work, Rosamunde took no notice of the rustling in the trees close by. She had loved the woods close to her father’s keep and knew that it was probably a small animal looking for food beneath the fallen debris.

When she had filled her basket, she stood up and looked about her, suddenly realising that a mist had started to creep through the trees. She could not see the men-at-arms, who had been close to her when she had last looked, and felt suddenly disorientated and alone, cut off from her friends. In the mist the wood looked unfamiliar and she was uncertain of the way she should go.

‘Are you there?’ she called. ‘Call out to me and tell me where you are.’

She heard a muffled shout and turned towards the direction from where it had come, but before she could call again she was roughly pushed in the back and then a thick blanket was thrown over her head. She screamed but the cloth covering her head muffled the sound. Despite her struggles, she was lifted from the ground and carried away, though she could not tell in what direction. She heard muffled shouts but nothing was clear and she had no idea of what was happening or where she was being taken.

Raphael!
The words were in her head but not upon her lips.
I need you so, my love. Forgive me. I was careless and forgot your warnings.

Suddenly, she was flung down and felt the blanket being removed. Opening her eyes, she discovered that
she had been dumped on the ground. She looked up into the eyes of a man she despised.

‘What have you done?’ she demanded hotly of Sir Ian. ‘My lord will search for me and when he finds me he will punish you.’

Sir Ian sneered at her. ‘He may look but he will not find you. You are my prisoner now, lady—and you will discover what the word truly means.’

Rosamunde tried to stand but was thrust back to her knees by a booted foot. ‘You are a brute and my lord will make you pay for your treatment of me. If you harm me, he will surely kill you.’

‘He may try but I have powerful friends,’ Sir Ian boasted. ‘Your lord murdered Sir Edmund Roth and he was kinsman to Baron Sigmund. It is to his stronghold that you are bound, lady. Say your prayers, for only God can help you now.’