The Tempest (21 page)

*****

The road to the coast was a ride of two long and wearisome days, and the sailing from Portsmouth to Cherbourg was not an entirely smooth one. The tedious journey tested the limits of all the passengers, particularly Stephen. His faithful servant, Chadwick, did his best to be cheerful. As they stood at the ship’s railing, he gave his master a pat on the back.

“When we are home, my lord, the Baroness will welcome you with open arms and make you forget your troubles. As will the Mistress Katherine and Master Stuart.”

Stephen smiled as he thought of his wife and two young children, waiting eagerly for him at home. Rosalyn was a good and generous wife. He felt he’d made a good choice of her from the ladies at court, for although she was born of noble blood and he was not, she did not secretly scorn him like many of the nobility had. His position as a Baron was given to him by the King, who looked with favor upon a young peasant soldier that had saved his life.

But being on good terms with King Richard did not earn him respect among all of his peers, some of whom looked down their noses at him because of his lowly birth. Rosalyn, however, was a gracious and loving woman who accepted him as he was. She had blessed him with two healthy children and she kept his household running smoothly, and if the nobles at court talked ill of him, he cared not. He had a happy life and family, and that was all that mattered to him.

He only wished his sister could look forward to such happiness. But seeing her as she was now, sinking into herself with deep misery, he wished he had been able to come back and find her much sooner.

After his marriage nearly three years earlier, he had wanted to make the journey back to England. But when he found Rosalyn to be with child, he had not wanted to leave her. He had remained to witness the birth of his son that winter, and in the spring he attempted the journey to England, only to fall ill and be forced back. After a long recovery, he was surprised to find that his wife expected their second child. In November, just as Stuart was nearing two years of age, his darling Katherine had been born…and seeing her, he longed even more for the family he’d left behind. This past May he had reluctantly said goodbye to his wife and children and finally set out for the land of his birth. It had been his intention to bring both his father and Cassia back with him. But alas, it was not to be. And now he wondered if his sister thought to do herself a harm in some way.

These several days she’d hardly said a word to him. At night he could hear her softly crying, and though he had tried to question her about Gisborne and why she was so affected by him, she refused to speak of it. What had Gisborne done to her to make her this way?

He remembered the story Robin had told him…that Sir Guy had taken Cassia away to some hidden place, and the two of them had apparently had a love affair of sorts. But how could a woman have a love affair with a man such as him? He was a murderer, as cold and heartless as anyone could ever be. He’d destroyed a woman he’d once been engaged to, for the love of God. He had been more monster than man. How could anyone love such a beast?

He must used coercion…tricked her into living with him. Maybe he’d given her gifts and made her false promises. And she, being a vulnerable young woman, had believed his lies. It was hard to imagine his clever little sister being swayed by such tricks, but stranger things had happened. He was living proof of it.

Despite the way she mourned his loss, he had to believe she would see the light in time. If Guy had been so worthy, he would have married her instead of keeping her as a mistress.

But what did it matter now? Gisborne was dead, and no amount of grieving on Cassia’s part would restore him. She was better off as she was, with people who would love and care for her.

He sighed, leaning out over the railing to watch the sea as it passed by, cresting in white swells against the side of the ship. He wished Rosalyn were here. And he felt great frustration in knowing that it would be many weeks before he saw her again. The journey from Nottingham to Marseilles was one of more than a thousand miles, and even with following seas and swift horses they might not cover more than thirty or forty miles in a day. It was a deplorable thought, and if his wife were here, at least he would have someone for comfort…and Cassia would have someone for female company.

Women understood each other’s strange behaviors, and with her gentleness and soft spoken ways, his wife would have been just the right person to bring Cassia around. Perhaps when they got to Marseilles, she would improve. Surely the coastal breezes and the warmth of the Mediterranean would make her forget her troubles. Besides that, he was now a man of means, with a fine home and enough wealth to live a comfortable life, and he intended to see that she had everything a woman could ever need.

Two months later
Late August

He wandered aimlessly along the bustling streets of Marseilles. The chatter of villagers and merchants as they bargained, the noise of fisherman, the laughter of children as they ran through the streets…they were all pleasant sounds when compared to the sounds of misery in Nottingham. But he paid it all little attention.

His eyes were frightening to those who would look at him. In his gaze was a desperation and turmoil that made people keep their distance. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he knew he must have looked like a madman of sorts as he walked along, as if in a trance. His hair was nearly to his shoulders and unkempt. It had been days since he’d bothered to shave, and his jaw was covered with the shadow of a beard. He was sure that people wondered at his odd appearance and behavior, particularly when he suddenly snatched the arm of a brown-haired young woman that passed by him. She cried out in fear, cowering at the sight of this tall dark man who accosted her. But as he looked at her face, his expression moved from frenzy to deep sadness, and he released his hold, speaking gently.

“Forgive me, my lady. I thought you were someone else.”

She stared at him for a long moment before hurrying off…and he turned away, moving on along the street.

He’d been in Marseilles for nearly two weeks. The journey here had been long, taxing, and unbearably lonely. Having spent the last of his own funds on the passage from Portsmouth, he’d taken to stealing money from the purses of wealthy travelers, and it was just enough to keep him fed and provide lodging at an inn. Upon arrival he’d immediately started his search, inquiring with whoever might be a source of information.

But with each inquiry he found no leads regarding a woman by the name of “Cassia.” He offered her married name to those he inquired with, but with no luck. His only other hope was that someone might be familiar with her maiden name of “DeWarren.” He was shocked, almost elated, when he saw recognition in the face of the innkeeper he gave the name to…but he was crushed with disappointment to hear that the only DeWarren the man knew of was a Baron Stephen DeWarren, who lived with his wife and children in a home at the coast. They were of no relation, he knew that…Cassia was a peasant, so what connection would she possibly have with a man of nobility?

Over several days time, however, the name of the Baron was constantly in his mind.

Stephen
. There was something familiar about it, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off…thinking it to be only his mind grasping at straws…the name would simply not let him be.

It was on his mind one afternoon as he wandered back towards the inn. And he decided that he had to investigate the possibility of a relation, no matter how miniscule the odds were. If nothing else, he needed to satisfy his nagging curiosity. Mounting his horse, he rode towards the seashore, with a strange little light of hope daring to flicker in his heart.

*****

For some time he traveled along a road beside the sea, and soon a grand manor house came into view. He was almost afraid to approach it, certain that the owner would look upon this wreck of a once proud knight and have him arrested for trespassing. But if they had the smallest speck of information that would help him find Cassia, he would brave arrest and even assault.

As he was turning his horse towards the drive, he heard the sound of merry voices coming from the beach just below. Simply out of curiosity, he moved a few steps forward and looked down, where he spied a young couple and their children playing in the sand. The young woman, long blond hair streaming in the breeze, sat at the edge of the water with a babe whom she was holding by the hands. The man was wading knee deep in the surf with a small boy, who squealed in delight as his father dipped him halfway in the water and then picked him up again. It was a pretty picture…one that he almost envied, thinking of Cassia and how they’d been robbed of their chance at such happiness.

But he could not dwell on that at the moment. These people were obviously someone of importance, dressed as they were. Though the man wore only breeches and a loose linen shirt, and the woman wore a light summer dress, their clothes were still very fine. And only people of means could take time to frolic as they were doing. Hoping they would be of help…and hoping they were willing to give it…he dismounted, slowly making his way down to where they were.

They didn’t seem to notice him at first, and he wondered how he might speak to them without looking like a hopeless fool. But his thoughts on that were cut short when the lady glanced over at him and gave a small shriek of fear. In a moment the man with the boy moved fast, handing the child off to his mother and snatching up a sword that rested nearby. He stood before his family, weapon at the ready…but Guy held up his hands to show he was unarmed.

“Forgive me, I mean no harm. I am looking for…”

“You are Guy of Gisborne.”

Guy blinked, wondering how this stranger could possibly know him. He had no connections here, and surely his dark reputation had not travelled so far from England. He opened his mouth to speak, but the man gave him no chance.

“Rosalyn, please take the children back to the manor. I shall follow you shortly.”

The lady nodded, gathering her children and departing quickly. The man watched them go…and then turned back to examine Guy.

“Has the devil risen from his grave? Or am I just imagining the sight of your malevolent presence?”

Guy shook his head. “No, I am quite flesh and blood, I assure you. And I tell you that I do not wish to cause trouble.”

The other man sneered. “That is quite a laughable statement, coming from the man who followed the Sheriff of Nottingham like a dog for so many years, harassing and torturing the innocent, including women and children.”

A sudden spark of anticipation lit Guy’s eyes. If thisman knew him, if he knew of Briwere and Nottingham, then there was a chance he knew something of Cassia…and suddenly a burst of memory came to him, of a long ago conversation between Robert DeWarren and his daughter.

I lost your brother Stephen to the pilgrimage. I will not lose my only daughter as well.
It could not be possible that this man and her brother were one in the same. But his desperate heart dared to hope. And he had to know.

“Are you Baron DeWarren? Stephen DeWarren?”
“What matter is it to you?” He arched a suspicious eyebrow at Guy, who almost pleaded with his next question.

“Do you have a sister named Cassia?”

A look of loathing crossed Stephen’s face. “You dare to speak of her, after all you have made her suffer?”

Guy felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He thought he might weep with relief, and falling to his knees, his breath came hard and fast.

“I must see her. I have been traveling for months, trying to find her.”

Stephen thrust his blade under Guy’s chin, his eyes narrowed.

“That is hardly reason to let you know where she is. How do I know you will not do her harm in some way?”

Guy swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice anguished.

“I would never willingly let harm come to her. I love her as my own flesh, and I will do anything to be with her again. Please, let me see her.”

Slowly, Stephen lowered his sword. Though the light of mistrust was still in his eyes, he took a step back, allowing Guy to stand.
“Come to the manor. We will speak first…before I decide whether or not to trust you.”
He turned and walked away, up the slight incline leading away from the beach. Guy turned in the opposite direction to retrieve his horse…and quickly rode to the manor, his heart full of hope for the first time in months.

*****

Riding upon the property, his first instinct was to look for her. He could not help himself. He hoped to see her walking nearby, perhaps among the wide expanse of green lawn or in the nearby fields. When his eye did not find her there, he found himself looking up at the windows, hoping to see her face.

Where was she
?

She was near…he could almost sense it. It was all he could do to keep from jumping down to the ground, running like mad through the front doors and calling out her name. What kept him from it was Stephen, who was walking along the stones in front of the manor, his arms crossed as he waited for Guy’s approach. He looked very much like a wary guard dog, disciplined enough to maintain his temper…but prepared to unleash hell should the occasion call for it.

A groom came rushing forward at the sight of a visitor, and though he hesitated at the dark presence of the stranger, Stephen gestured for him to take the horse…and then he turned his attention to Guy.

“Let us go inside and speak plainly to one another.”

Guy nodded, following along behind through the great arched doorway, into the great room. He saw an enormous set of stairs leading to the second story, and he wondered…

Was she in one of those upper rooms?

His heart beat fast at the thought, making him long to rush up the steps two at a time, tearing through the halls and into each room until he found her. Only the sound of Stephen’s rough command kept him from following the impulse.