The Merchant's Daughter (39 page)

“Mistress Eustacia!” she cried. “Bring a mirror.”

Mistress Eustacia hurried back into the room and gasped as she stared at him. “Your scar has faded to almost nothing.” She handed him a mirror.

He was startled to see himself without a beard for the first time after so many years. As he held the mirror closer, his left cheek was streaked with a pale line. But it was quite faint and looked nothing like it had when he’d grown his beard.

He glanced at Annabel, then Eustacia. They both stared with wide smiles. “So handsome,” Eustacia murmured.

“Yes indeed,” Annabel answered. Eustacia excused herself from the room, winking at Annabel.

Annabel placed her hand in his, and a reverence came over him, as though he were on holy ground. “Will you kneel with me?”

They slipped to their knees on the floor. Facing her and clutching her hand, he bowed his head. “Thank you, God. Thank you for protecting Annabel when she spoke to the angry villagers, and that they left peacefully. And thank you for taking away my scars.” His voice broke, but he forced himself to go
on. “Thank you for showing that you do love me.”
O God, I can hardly believe Annabel is mine, a gift beyond what I deserve. You are so good, God. You truly do love your children. Forgive me for doubting it. All the painful memories are nothing compared to the surpassing joy I feel at this moment.

A tear splashed onto his hand, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Annabel’s. He lifted his eyes and caught her watching him. She scooted forward on her knees and took his face in her hands. His heart pounded faster. Slowly, reverently, her eyes half closed, she kissed his eyelid, brushed her cheek against his, then kissed his chin and jawline, her lips igniting a burning deep inside him. He pulled her close and their lips met.

What could be more miraculous than that?

Justice and love had both won this day.

Epilogue

“Adam shall carry the bridecup,” Mistress
Eustacia declared as they prepared to walk to the church. Adam smiled.

Ranulf’s shoulders were erect and his head high as he watched the lad pass through the massive wooden door. Annabel took Ranulf’s arm and they followed Adam out onto the top step.

A large gathering of villagers stood on the lawn before them. As soon as they stepped out, the crowd saw them and fell silent.

Ranulf’s whole body tensed, and Annabel took a step back.

The scene brought back the memory of the morning, three weeks ago, when the villagers stood defiant and angry, holding up weapons, yelling and cursing as they followed Tom atte Water across the yard.

“What is it you want?” Ranulf asked them.

A carter named Henry in the Lane stepped forward, pulling off his tippet to bare his head. “If it please you, my lord, we have come to ask forgiveness for what we did, or were about to do, when we followed Tom.” He kept his head half bowed, not daring to lift his eyes.

“It was a grave sin to come to our lord with intent to harm.” The group around him kept their heads bowed as well, most of them nodding quietly to agree with his words. “We all know that the merchant’s daughter, Annabel Chapman, was right in all that she said. We were led astray by Tom atte Water, who has now reaped the just reward for his sin.” He crossed himself then added, “May God have mercy on his soul.”

Ranulf asked, “What happened to Tom?”

“He was taken ill of a sudden, my lord. A fit of rage came over him after everyone went home, and he fell down as though dead. He never moved again, and this morning the breath of life left him. He’s dead.”

So Tom was gone forever, and the people were sorry for what they’d done.
O God, let me not rejoice in anyone’s suffering, but I thank you for the peace this news brings to our wedding day.

“You are forgiven,” Ranulf said evenly.

“You are most kind, my lord.” Henry in the Lane crushed his cloth hat between his hands, bowing low.

The people randomly offered words of thanks. “Thank you, my lord.” “May our lord be ever blessed.” “May you live long and have many children!” A cheer rose up from the crowd at this last shouted sentiment.

Gilbert Carpenter stepped forward and announced in a loud voice, “Your lord is getting married today. Let us give honor to Lord Ranulf le Wyse and his new bride!”

A much louder cheer arose. All the people’s faces had changed from fearful submission to joyful exultation. Ranulf held out his hand to acknowledge their expressions of elation.

“Long live our lord’s bride, the most beautiful maiden in the land!”

Another cheer. Annabel seemed unable to stop smiling as she curtsied to the crowd. Ranulf turned to her and elegantly kissed her hand.

They made their way down the steps, Annabel being careful of the hem of her dress, and the crowd parted for them.

Soon they were on the road to the church. Some of Ranulf’s men played instruments, including the lute and shawm, as they followed them down the road. Adam, holding the bridecup out in front, led the entire procession.

As they neared the village, young children, both boys and girls, fell into line in front of the couple, skipping and dancing, twirling ribbons in the air. But Ranulf hardly noticed anything except the maiden on his arm. She looked so striking in his mother’s court dress. The soft blue color brought out the creamy
tone of her skin and golden hair, which hung in ringlets about her face.

Soon she would belong to him, and he would cherish her with every beat of his heart.

The stone church loomed ahead of them. Sir Matefrid stood on the steps, waiting to bless their union and to celebrate Mass with the wedding party. He wore the white wool tunic Ranulf had sent to him for the wedding, along with a white stole embroidered with red, gold, and green thread around his neck, hanging to his knees, and a great hat more than a foot tall.

Their vows to love and honor and obey, in sickness and in health, in wealth or in want, in good times and bad, were spoken before the silent throng behind them. Then the priest blessed them and led them all into the church for Mass.

Emerging from the church with Annabel beside him, he stared for a long time into her eyes. The overcast sky hung low and was strangely gray. But the lack of brilliance in the sky did not dim her beauty in the least. She seemed to glow with a light from within.

He felt moved to declare, “God is good.”

“Aye, my lord. God is good.” She squeezed his arm and pressed closer.

He looked out over the crowd of people. The servants had gone to lay out the food for the wedding celebration, which would take place in the courtyard of the manor house. All those who now stood before them, who had witnessed their sacred union inside the church, no longer looked like his enemies. They smiled. Many of them carried cakes to stack on top of each other, a traditional way of wishing them good favor. A few of the villagers looked sheepish and avoided his gaze, but no one fled. No one crossed his arms in anger or resentment.

They had all accepted his forgiveness. They all wished them well.

This —
this
was what he had wanted when he came to Glynval, though he never imagined himself marrying again. He was starting anew, among strangers.

A white flake floated down from the sky. Then another and another, until everyone noticed and looked up.

“It’s snowing.” Annabel raised wide eyes at him and laughed. “It’s snowing before Saint Catherine’s Day.”

The snow raced down in a thick sheet of white, dusting everything and everyone. Children whooped and held out their tongues to catch the flakes. Smiles grew wider on every face. Ranulf said a silent prayer of thanks for the unusual gift then led the whole company toward the manor house.

The irony struck him that he was celebrating his wedding feast in the same place where the jury had accused him of both murder and lechery.

But today it looked different, not like the same place at all. The beautiful blanket of white quickly covered the courtyard, making the town clean and new.

Several voices began to chant, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Annabel pulled on his arm, and he turned his attention to her. Snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes and made her blue eyes sparkle. He kissed her.

Cheers went up from the onlookers. He pulled away as music trilled behind him. A lively tune jounced to the beat of a tambourine.

Annabel murmured, “Shall we dance?”

“We shall.”

̃THE END̃

Author’s Note

Researching for a historical novel is always an adventure, and this book was no exception. I am very grateful for the wonderful research books that are widely available in my library and online bookstores, written by many knowledgeable scholars. I am especially grateful to Frances and Joseph Gies, who wrote, among other works, the fascinating and helpful
Life in a Medieval Village.
I learned a wealth of information from this book about the judicial system in place in England during the Middle Ages. Often this information came from actual surviving documents quoted by the Gieses. Their meticulous research was just what I needed to piece together my own fictional hallmote and trial, events that are as authentic as I could make them. But any inaccuracies are solely the fault of me, the author of this fictional work.

I would also like to note that at the time of the setting of this story, mid-1300s England, the only translation of the Bible in wide use was in Latin. I chose to use the NIV translation in the scenes in this book, since the NIV most closely mirrors the way I have my characters speak, and also because I don’t understand Latin and I assume most of my readers probably don’t either.

I have always loved the classic
Beauty and the Beast
story in which the characters fall in love with each other’s inner beauty in spite of outward appearance. I also wanted to explore how it would feel to desperately desire to read the Bible, and to finally get the opportunity to read it for the first time. I explored concepts of discrimination, of unfair treatment based on a person’s appearance, and the interesting concept of owing respect and honor to an earthly lord, as well as a heavenly lord. When I write
a book, ideas and issues come into play during the development of the story that I hadn’t planned, and that was certainly the case with
The Merchant’s Daughter.
So I pray this work of fiction not only entertains you but makes you think — especially about the nature of true love and true beauty.

God bless.

Acknowledgments

Once again, I want to thank my brilliant editor, Jacque Alberta, for her skill, wisdom, and meticulous hard work in editing
The Merchant’s Daughter.
Her insight and suggestions made this a much stronger story. Words can’t say how blessed I feel to have Jacque as my editor.

I want to thank Linore Burkard, Debbie Lynne Costello, and Heather Burch for their input, critiques, and encouragement.

I also want to thank Linore and Debbie Lynne for being my accountability buddies, critique partners, and BFFs, and for knowing more about me than just about anybody else and not running away screaming! And Julie Lessman, who is my emotional twin, God love her. And Mary Connealy, who always knows the answer to my questions. It’s so good to have writer friends who can relate to the ups and downs and sheer craziness of trying to succeed and be a blessing in this business.

I want to thank my mother, Voneice Lee, for being such a great word-of-mouth publicist (and just because I can); my husband and children for supporting me, even though they have to sacrifice so much for me to do this “job”; all the members of ACFW who, over the years, have answered countless questions from me, including how a second- and third-degree burn looks a week, two weeks, and a month later; and Jordyn Redwood for helping me and other authors get their medical facts straight. I’m also thankful to all my medieval-writing friends who let me bounce ideas off them and keep my medieval facts straight. Thanks a million!