A King's Betrayal (38 page)

             
‘Will you not stay and eat with us?’ Ruth said as servants brought in food and wine.  ‘Your disappointment must be sharp, but an hour can surely make no difference.’

             
‘Had I not delayed to bury my squire I might have been here in time,’ Tomas replied.  ‘I thank you for your hospitality and will take the bread and cheese with me, for the men must eat something – but I shall not rest until I have discovered if she has managed to find sanctuary with the Sisters of Mercy.’

‘It is not much further,’ Raoul said as he heard Beth’s sigh of weariness.  ‘I did not want to seek rest at an inn too near de Burgh’s land for your enemies may still be searching for you.’

             
To either side of the road the woods were thick, rising to steep banks, which made the way dark and shadowy.  Beth had no idea where they were or how far they had travelled.  She leaned her head against his chest, as he had bid her earlier.  They had ridden for miles, stopping only to rest the horse for short periods, eating bread and cheese he purchased at a market stall and drinking a cup of ale from a woman selling it from a barrel outside her house.  The ale had a sweet nutty flavour but was not as good as the ale Beth brewed herself.  However, it had quenched their thirst and she was grateful for it.

             
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.  ‘Did you say we should go to London?’

             
‘It was my intention,’ he agreed.  ‘I have changed my mind.  It will be best if we go to my manor and rest there for a few days. ‘Tis but a few hours ride and we shall be there before nightfall.  If we are to go to London you will need clothes and a horse of your own to ride.’

             
‘Shall I?’  Beth’s heart was racing.  ‘Why do you say that?’

             
‘Because you will be my lady and I wish you to be dressed accordingly.’

             
She tried to turn her head and look at him, but his expression gave nothing away.  During the night she had lain close to him on a bed of dried leaves in the great forest, which bordered Sir William’s land.  He had not tried to make love to her.  Instead he had told her to sleep, covering them both with his cloak.

             
‘How can I be your lady? I do not know how to behave as a lady.’

             
‘You can be anything I want you to be.’

             
‘You do not know me,’ Beth said.  ‘You do not know what I have done.’

             
‘When you are ready you will tell me.  You cannot have done worse than I, lady.’ Raoul smiled oddly.  ‘God will judge your sins not I.’

             
‘Someone…hurt me,’ Beth said, her throat tight with emotion.  ‘I hit him with a candlestick.  It struck him a glancing blow but he staggered and fell against the wall, striking his temple on an iron sconce.  His head was bleeding and I think he might die.’

             
‘Was he dead when you fled?’

             
‘Ruth said he lived but she thought he might die of his wound.  She told me to run away for her mother would have denounced me as a witch – and they would hang me, as they did Marthe.’

             
‘Who was Marthe?’

             
‘A woman I lived with for many years.  She was not my mother.  I was stolen from my home as a child and Marthe found me.  I do not know my mother’s name – nor yet my own.  Something terrible happened at the time I was taken and I could not bear to remember, though sometimes I see a castle in my dreams.’

             
‘I knew you were not the witch’s daughter,’ Raoul said and his arms seemed to tighten about her possessively.  ‘You are proud and there is something fine about you.  If you remember a castle you may have been a lord’s daughter.  It is not the first time a child has been stolen for ransom or revenge. The lawless barons often rob and steal from their neighbours, especially in uneasy times.’

             
‘Marthe said the men searching for us wanted to kill us, but I think she lied.  She was lonely and did not wish to give me up to my family.’

             
‘It is as likely a tale as any other,’ Raoul murmured huskily.  ‘Where you came from hardly matters now, sweet Beth.  You will be my lady and I shall keep you safe.  No one shall take you from me.’

             
Once again, Beth tried to glance at him over her shoulder.  The wind howled through the trees, bending them almost double with its ferocity, and it was bitterly cold.  Her breath made little clouds on the frosty air.  Yet with his arms about her she felt safe and warm.  Suddenly, it was easy to tell him, the words tripping from her lips.

‘Before this happened the priest condemned me as a witch and someone took my child.  I did not want her to die in the miller’s pond with me and so I let her go, but I loved her dearly.  I do not want her to be lost, as I was.’

             
‘Has no search been made?’

             
‘Sir William de Burgh’s men searched but though they found the body of a dead child by the road, it was not hers.  My daughter has hair the colour of moonlight – the dead child had dark hair.’

             
‘Why do you tell me this now?’

             
‘I was afraid to tell you at first but now I do not fear you.’  She glanced over her shoulder at him once more.  ‘Will you have a search made for my daughter, my lord?’

             
‘If Sir William’s men could not find her it is unlikely that mine will,’ he replied in a careless manner.  Why should he be interested in a lost babe?  Children often died or went missing and few bothered to search or grieve for long. ‘I shall have it done if it pleases you, but do not expect too much.’

             
‘The child is yours…’

             
Beth felt him tense and the next second he brought the horse to a halt and dismounted, lifting her down so that she stood before him.  He was frowning, his expression almost angry, disbelieving – as if he thought she lied.

             
‘Why do you say that?  You were not virgin when I lay with you that night.’

             
‘Only one man had lain with me before that.  He…forced me by a trick but I did not have his babe.  After that I went with no man until you came to me.’

             
Raoul’s eyes narrowed, seeming to burn with silver fire.  ‘You swear to me that the child was mine?’

             
‘I swear it on my life,’ Beth said, her gaze unwavering.  ‘May I die this instant if I lie.  I ask God to bear witness that I speak truly.’

             
Raoul took her chin in his hand, looking down at her for some seconds, then nodded.  ‘You would not lie.  I thought you innocent that night yet knew you had lain with another.  Now I understand.  Who was it that raped you?’

             
‘Sir William.  He was sorry for it and he saved me when the priest put me to the test.  He swore that he would wed me and that he cared for me – but then…’ Her throat caught and for a moment the tears hovered.  ‘After they found the dead child, he realised that my child was not his and grew angry.  He hurt me and I hit him, as I told you. It was his men I feared would find me in the woods’

             
‘May he rot in hell!’ Raoul exclaimed, such a dark look in his face that Beth drew back, afraid of the anger she sensed in him.  ‘I shall avenge you one day.  You have my word.  He will pay for what he has done to you.’

             
‘Please…’  she caught at his sleeve.  ‘I would not have you fight for my sake.  What is done is done and cannot be mended.  All I want is to find Katharine and…be your lady.’

             
‘Is that your true wish?’

             
Beth met his fierce stare bravely.  ‘You frighten me when you are angry.  I sense something dark about you, my lord – but I loved you that night by the pool and I would be happy to be your mistress.’

             
‘Would you, Beth?’  An odd smile touched his mouth.  ‘You say that I do not know you, but there is much you do not know of me.  You are right to fear my dark side, though I swear by all I hold dear that I will keep it from you if I can.’  He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip.  ‘That night with you gave me ease.  I was in sore torment when I found you in the pool, Beth.  You took the pain away with your sweetness.  I am recently returned from a bitter war where things were done that haunt my dreams.  You gave me calm then – will you give me ease now?’

             
‘Yes, my lord.  Whenever you wish it.’

             
Raoul laughed softly in his throat.  ‘I thought that I had dreamed you.  I feared that in the morning light you would be as other women and not as I thought – but you are as sweet and lovely as I remembered.  I shall treat you well, my Beth.  Do not fear that I shall force you, as he did.  I have never yet taken an unwilling woman and I would not harm you.’

             
‘I do not fear you.  I think…I am not sure what it means to love but I believe that what I feel for you is love.’

             
‘Is it truly?’  Raoul smiled and bent his head to brush his lips over hers.  ‘I cannot promise to love you, sweet lady, but I will do all I can to make you happy.  Will that content you?’

             
‘Find our child, my lord.  It is all I ask of you.’

             
‘I shall do what I can,’ Raoul said.  His mouth grew hard.  ‘Never think of the past again.  I shall protect you.  Sir William cannot harm you now.  You will live with me in France and – if our daughter is not found I shall give you other children to ease your grief.’

             
‘Yes.’  Beth smiled up at him.  ‘I shall be yours to command, my lord.’

             
Raoul threw back his head and laughed joyously.  ‘We shall see who commands and who obeys,’ he murmured throatily.  ‘Methinks the lady hath more power than she dreams.  Come, my lady.  Let me put you up on my horse.  If we ride hard we shall reach my castle before nightfall.’

Fifty One

‘When was this child brought to us?’ Isolde gazed down at the babe nestled in the cradle the nuns at the school had provided.  She had travelled from the convent to the school with messages from the Abbess and been shown the babe the sisters had taken in.  The child was crying, her cheeks red with distress.

             
‘She arrived last night and has cried for most of the time since.’

             
‘Who brought her?’

             
‘It was not her mother.  The woman who gave her to us was too old to have a child of this age,’ Sister Margaret frowned.  ‘She told me that the babe’s mother was being put to the test as a witch and she saved her as a kindness.  I have done my best to comfort the babe but still she cries.  I do not know what ails her.’

             
‘I think she misses her mother.’

             
Isolde reached into the casket and lifted the child, who was still wearing the dress and shawl she had been wearing when brought to the nuns the previous night.  The babe whimpered and then fell silent, looking up with her wide eyes.  Isolde rocked the child in her arms, feeling certain that her instincts were right.  Few children had hair this colour and still fewer wore a silk gown.  Besides, she herself had given the shawl to Beth in the wood when the babe was born.

             
‘Did the woman say where this happened?’ she asked, feeling sad that Beth should have been treated so ill.

             
‘She was an ignorant woman and had been travelling since her husband and sons died of a virulent fever.  She claimed the name of the castle was not known to her but she may have lied.’

             
‘No, I think I know the place of which she spoke.’  Isolde replaced the babe in her cradle and made the sign of the cross over the child and then herself.  Immediately Katharine began to whimper once more.   ‘This is the child I helped to bring into the world some months ago.  Beth lived alone in the woods and told me that the woman she had known as her mother had been hung as a witch.  I fear that the people turned against her.  If Beth is dead this child has no mother – but she does have a grandmother and a grandfather.  Lord Tomas came to look for his lost daughter.  I told him where he might find her but he may have been too late.  We must care for the babe.  I shall send word to Sir William de Burgh and ask him if he knows where Lord Tomas may be found.  If he has not yet returned home he may come to claim the child.’  Isolde frowned as the babe began to cry again.  ‘She is hungry and needs changing.  We must feed her with milk from the goat, though I am not certain it will suit her for she is not yet weaned from her mother’s breast.’

             
‘God will provide,’ Sister Margaret replied and smiled as Isolde picked the child up again and her crying stopped.  ‘I think she recognises your scent.  We must send word to her family, if she has one – but if they do not come for her she will be safe here with us.  You may soak a piece of linen in the milk and let her suck it.  I fed her that way last night and it contented her.  If God wills she will survive and be returned to her family.’

             
Isolde nodded.  ‘I know that Lord Tomas will come.  He has searched many years for his lost daughter.  If Beth is dead he will grieve but may take some comfort in Katharine.’

             
‘Her name is Katharine?’

             
‘Yes, it was the name Beth chose,’ Isolde said.  ‘Lord Tomas is a good man.  I am certain he will take the babe.  I shall take her back to the convent so that I can feed and care for myself, then send word to Sir William de Burgh for it was there that Lord Tomas was headed.’

‘I thank you for your care of me when I was sick,’ Sir William said when Ruth entered his chamber that evening.  ‘Perhaps now that I am well again you should leave me to the care of others.  It is not fitting that you should attend me in my chamber now that my strength returns.’

             
‘Since you are able to eat and drink by your own hand I shall leave you to Master Steward,’ Ruth said and turned to leave.  ‘I came only to make certain that you were truly better.  Forgive me if I intruded, Sir William.’

             
‘Do not think me ungrateful, cousin.  I was thinking only of you, for I think that you might wish to marry and would not wish to sully your reputation.  It was in my mind that once I was wed we should take you to Winchester and introduce you at the court.  I am not a wealthy man, Ruth, but I could give you a small dowry.  You might find a knight that would wed you and give you a home of your own.’

             
She hesitated at the threshold.  ‘I had thought a rich merchant might suit me, cousin.  I know that I am not beautiful, as Beth was, but I think I am not ugly.’

             
‘You are comely, Ruth, though not beautiful.  Had I not loved elsewhere I might have wed you myself – if you had been agreeable to the match.’

             
His words were honest and did not hurt her.  She nodded, a wry smile on her lips.

             
‘Had you asked my mother would have given me no choice, but I know you love Beth truly.  Will you still wed her if she is found?’

             
‘I do not know if she will have me.  I hurt her, Ruth.  What she did to me does not compare with the harm I have done her.  I love her but I am not worthy of her.’

             
‘You saved her when the villagers would have killed her.’

             
‘Yes, and she was grateful.  She might have wed me had I not lost my temper.  I was jealous and angry, because her child was another’s – and I hurt her.  I would give my life to take back what was said and done but it cannot be.  She hates me now.’

             
‘I doubt that Beth has it in her to hate for long.  She is one of the most forgiving and lovely souls that I have ever known.  I think that she is pure of heart despite all that has happened to her.’

             
‘You saw that too?’  William nodded.  ‘I shall not rest unless she is found.  She is too innocent and vulnerable to wander from village to village alone.  There are too many ruthless men who will hurt her, as I did.  I fear for her, Ruth.  If she suffers because I drove her away I shall not forgive myself.’

             
‘I sent Lord Tomas to the Sisters of Mercy.  She may have sought help there.’

             
‘What makes you think that?’

             
‘Because we spoke of them once, but I cannot be certain she has gone there.  She may be hiding close at hand.’

             
‘My men have seen nothing of her.  Mistress Grey hath not seen her in the village for she came to speak with my steward and asked for Beth.’

             
Ruth turned her head as someone came up behind her and she saw it was the steward.  ‘I shall leave you now, cousin.  If you wish for my help pray send word by Master Steward.’

             
‘I shall come down tomorrow.  My head no longer spins and there is work to do if Beth is to be found.  I must go out and search for her myself.’

             
Ruth inclined her head and walked away as the steward entered the chamber.  She saw that he had a letter in his hand but did not wait to hear what the news might be.