Catherine Coulter (7 page)

“Lord Timothy wished to give the post to another, and so we had to leave. We came here to Wareham. Lady Anne convinced Lord Arthur to take us in since there was no priest in residence, and so he did.”

Garron made room on the floor beside him. “Sit here and eat.”

She hadn’t expected this. Thanks to Lady Anne’s full-cut skirts, she was able to sit cross-legged beside him. Garron speared a piece of meat for her.

She pulled it off with her fingers and simply smelled it before she took a lovely big bite. She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes, but Garron did.

He grinned as he took his own bite. He chewed. “This is very good. It appears you got all the people together and assigned them tasks. The great hall looks much cleaner, and the sour smell is mostly gone. Why did you not do anything before I arrived?”

A very good question. She chewed another bite, swallowed, said simply, truth in her voice because she knew it was true, “There was no hope. Every man who left to hunt food was murdered by the Black Demon’s soldiers. We were helpless and trapped within the castle walls. Why sweep the floor when death is coming? When you went out this morning, did you see any signs of the Demon’s soldiers?”

“Nay, we saw no one. We went directly into the Forest of Glen and hunted. Perhaps you will tell me about the Retribution? And this fellow who titles himself the Black Demon, which sounds like a name meant to scare small children.”

Thank St. Hermione’s scarred knees the people of Wareham had spoken of the Black Demon within her hearing during the day. “He did more than scare children. He and his men butchered them.” Her voice caught on that, for the actual saying of those words was terrible indeed. She wondered if she’d even be able to speak about it if she’d actually been here, to witness the death, hear the screams, see the horror, and see to burying all the dead.

“I was told the young women were raped and taken away. Why were you spared?”

“Miggins hid me in the jakes. The soldiers did not go there since there was nothing for them to destroy, and I suppose the Black Demon didn’t believe the silver coins to be hidden there.”

He cocked a black eyebrow at her. “You were lucky none of them wanted to relieve himself.”

“Aye, I know it well,” and she shuddered at the thought.

“You’re also lucky they didn’t poison the well so you could clean yourself up after your stay in the jakes.”

She smiled just a bit, and finished what was on her plank. Garron speared another steak for her. “It is odd not to hear children’s voices. None survived?”

“Some managed to escape and hide in the forest.” What was the forest’s name? She couldn’t remember. “The Black Demon’s men were merciless. When they couldn’t find the silver, the Black Demon was enraged and encouraged his soldiers to kill, and so they did. The young girls they didn’t kill, they took with them, as you know.

“I never realized how the laughter of children filled the air, but now, there’s only silence. It’s a fearful thing. Mayhap by killing or taking the children, the Black Demon wanted to erase the future of Wareham.”

“Aye,” he said thoughtfully, and wondered for perhaps the dozenth time why Arthur had stolen the man’s silver and brought it here to Wareham. Hadn’t he realized this Black Demon knew who he was? “I see you are not as thin and gaunt as the others.”

Her brain went blank. She shrugged. “I was heavy. I had flesh to lose.”

She saw clearly on his lean face that he didn’t believe her. What else didn’t he believe? She added quickly, “Did you come from London?”

He chewed, swallowed. “Aye. I was in the king’s service. It was he who told me my brother Arthur had died and I was now the Earl of Wareham. However, the king had not yet heard of this—Retribution. Do you know the Black Demon’s real name?”

She shook her head. “Mayhap another will know, but I do not.”

“No one appears to know. Very well. What do you know of my brother? What sort of master was he? Did you know about the silver coins he’d stolen?”

“No one knew anything about it. I know only that the Black Demon was powerful and deadly. I am sorry, my lord, but mayhap others, once their bellies are filled, will be able to tell you more.”

He chewed slowly as he looked out over the great hall, watching his people finally eating their fill. He wouldn’t be surprised to see them licking the juices off the planks. A fine idea, these makeshift tables, and probably hers. “Everything looks better. The filthy rushes are gone from the floor, and it seems some of the stone floor was washed as well.” He paused a moment, then added, “There is something else as well. The very air feels different. It no longer seems to weigh down on my head.”

“That is because it no longer smells bleak.”

She’d put his thoughts into excellent words. “Aye, that’s it.”

“There is still so much to be done. Everyone was so very weak, I didn’t want to risk anyone collapsing. Tomorrow, everyone will be stronger, and we will accomplish more.”

He watched her lick the steak juice from her fingers. “How did my brother treat you, the priest’s bastard?”

He watched her lick her fingers frantically.

H
er father had always told her she had quick wits.
Prove it, prove it.
“He ignored me for the most part. It was his wife, Lady Anne, who was kind to both my father and me, who taught me housekeeping.”

Arthur ignored her? He looked at her beautiful red hair, at the thick plaits wrapped around her head and threaded with a green ribbon. He looked at her dark blue eyes, and her white skin, her white teeth. The older brother he remembered wouldn’t have ignored her; mayhap when she was a child, but not now, not in the past several years. Come to think of it, no breathing man would ignore her. Garron looked over at the four remaining boar steaks on the plank of wood in front of him. He was full, he realized, but he knew Pali was always hungry, his long legs empty until he’d stuffed himself with enough food for three fat women, Gilpin would say, then run before Pali could clout him.

He pointed his knife at Pali and the meat. “I can hear your knees knocking together, Pali. They still sound hollow. Feed them.”

He turned back to the girl seated cross-legged beside him. “How old are you?”

“I am eighteen.”

“How old were you when you arrived at Wareham?”

“Twelve.”

So Arthur had watched her grow into a woman. He’d ignored her? Not likely.

“How old are you, my lord?”

“I am just turned twenty-four in April. Do you know how to make soap?”

She grinned. “Aye, I can make soap. I will put it at the beginning of my list.”

He could but stare at her. He was the only living being he knew who made lists. A dark eyebrow shot up. “You make lists?”

She sounded proud as a peahen as she said, “I am the grandest listmaker in Christendom, so my father told me. Unfortunately, lists are much better when they are written down, and thus cannot be easily forgotten. We have no parchment and no ink.”

“Put them on your list, with the soap.”

She smiled. “And candles,” she added, then sighed, “and so much more. Everything is destroyed. Everything.”

“Your gown isn’t.”

“There is a hidey hole in your bedchamber, my lord. Lisle had hidden some of Lady Anne’s clothing there.”

“Is your belly full?”

“Oh aye. It’s a fine thing.”

He turned to Aleric. “The king needs to know of our plight. Have Hobbs ride back to London tomorrow and speak to Robert Burnell. He recites accounts accurately, he is fluent, even when he has drunk enough to piss full a lake. We must have soldiers to guard Wareham against this Black Demon should he decide to come again to search for the silver. I am hopeful the king will agree and send us some men.”

How she had heard him from at least twenty feet away, Garron had no idea, but not an instant later, Miggins shouted, “Tupper believes we can call upon Lord Severin of Oxborough for aid. ’Tis wealthy he is, with land and men and goods. He’s closer than London. He did not like Lord Arthur, but he doesn’t know you, my lord.”

“Aye, he does,” Garron called back.

“Does he hate ye?”

“No, he does not. I will consider this, thank you, Miggins.” But he knew he needed the king, his backing and protection.

He wiped his knife on his tunic as he said to Merry, “How long was Lord Arthur dead before the Black Demon came?”

Garron didn’t miss her quick look toward Miggins, who promptly shouted, “Four days, my lord.”

Tupper called out, “Aye, barely four days. We buried him with all honor, my lord, all his men surrounding his grave.”

“Few wept,” Miggins said with no hesitation at all since she knew she had an old retainer’s privilege. “Lord Arthur abused Lady Anne, and all liked her.”

His brother abused his wife? He’d known about his brother’s rages, but he hadn’t known his brother was the kind of man who hurt women, though many thought nothing of striking those weaker than them. So, he’d been dead four days before the Retribution. Garron wondered if the Black Demon would have killed and destroyed even if he’d managed to find the silver. Probably so.

What his brother had or hadn’t done, none of it mattered at this moment. What mattered was Wareham. Garron looked out again over his great hall, and felt suddenly blessed. Since people’s bellies were full, it meant once again there’d be life to live and friends to argue with. There was noise. But no children.

Garron would speak to his men later. He wanted them to go among the people and find out which children were taken by this Black Demon. They would try to find them. He also wanted to visit all the graves, make certain all were properly marked. And Arthur’s grave, he thought, he wanted to visit his brother’s grave.

He asked Merry, “Did the Black Demon disturb my brother’s grave?”

There was a moment of stark silence. Merry looked perfectly blank.

“I forgot,” Garron said, “you were, after all, in the jakes.”

It was Tupper who called out, “The Black Demon paid no attention to the cemetery. His soldiers did not touch any of the graves.”

Garron said, “The king told me Lord Arthur’s men said that my brother died suddenly, with no lingering illness, with no warning at all.”

Miggins said, “ ’ Tis so. There was naught anyone could do. He was eating a lovely stew of hare, fava beans, and cauliflower when suddenly he stiffened in his chair and his face fell into his trencher. All saw he was dead. There was naught anyone could do.”

Garron fell silent, wondering at the vagaries of fate and man.
How did you know of this man’s silver, Arthur? How did you manage to steal it
?
How did you keep it a secret?
Arthur’s master-at-arms, Elkins, was dead, killed in the fighting, he’d been told, before he could be tortured. Surely he’d known of the silver, surely he’d helped Arthur steal it. A cache of silver coins would be impossible for one man to handle.

Miggins, boar grease slicking her face, sidled up to him, and grinned hugely, showing the few remaining teeth in her mouth. “Is your belly happy, my lord?”

“It is.”

“Iffen ye have money, my lord, Merry can buy all the provisions we’ll need at Winthorpe. Ye surely remember, Winthorpe is a goodly sized town right on the coast, so the trading is brisk. She said we must buy wheat for bread. And since our miller died, we must find a new man and rebuild the millhouse. We must plant seeds for vegetables and find young fruit trees to plant. We must have cloth, or wool to weave into cloth. Borran, our weaver, is alive, thank Saint Whisken’s bonny head of hair. What say you?”

“I say if there is enough meat to last for a couple of days, then we will travel to Winthorpe in the morning. Merry, I will even buy some parchment and ink so you may make formal lists.” Garron paused a moment. “I have trained my memory to keep my lists in my head, a skill you should learn.”

“Aye, a useful skill. I have always had parchment to write down my lists, but I will try.” She looked out over the great hall. “There is so much to be done, mayhap too much for me to remember since I am but a female.” She turned back to him and gave him a fat smile.

Whatever else she was, she wasn’t afraid of him. He said, “I have always believed females have too many brains.”

That was a novel thing for a man to say, especially a man who was a warrior, and she could but stare at him. Then she got to her feet and gave him a small curtsey. “I think you are wise to acknowledge it, my lord.”

He waved away her words. “The hall is no longer an airless, filthy tomb. Aye, it is better now.”

It was indeed, she thought, it was indeed.

“Is there enough meat to feed everyone until we return from Winthorpe with provisions?”

“Aye, there is.”

“I am not surprised Father Adal succumbed to matters of the flesh. Even the pope has bastards, herds of them, I’ve heard.”

She allowed a small smile. “That is what my father told me when he at last confessed to me I was his bastard.
‘A priest is naught but a weak man withal, despite his Latin.’
That was what he said.” Merry knew that to be true. The Valcourt priest, Father Minsk, was a learned man who loved God and women, in equal measure, and mayhap not in that order since he was particularly pleased when the young maids of Valcourt confessed to him in private.

“What happened to your mother?”

Merry’s brain blanked for an instant. “Did I not tell you? She died birthing me.”

“I see.” He was testing her, she realized, and that meant he suspected she wasn’t what she’d said. Oh dear. She needed better lies, ones she could call up with no hesitation. She needed to have Miggins ask her questions so she could fashion believable answers before she left with Lord Garron on the morrow for their trip to Winthorpe.

Garron turned away from her to speak to his master-at-arms, Aleric, his bald head a beacon in bright sunlight, so shiny it was. She wondered if he polished it.