Hostage Bride

Rosamunde longed to tell them that she knew what they planned, but her only chance was to reach England and her father. If he knew that she was being sacrificed to save her cousin from shame, he would surely not allow it. So, steeling herself not to flinch, she took Sir Thomas’s hand and allowed him to help her mount.

Rosamunde took the reins. Despite her anger, she felt a surge of pleasure at being able to ride independently. Not since her mother’s death had she had the joy of riding her own horse. Until that unhappy day her father had kept horses for both Rosamunde and her mother’s use, but afterwards he had sold them in an effort to stave off ruin.

Rosamunde took her place amongst Sir Thomas’s train. She saw that Angelina’s maid, Margaret, was riding pillion behind one of the grooms. The men-at-arms rode at the head and tail of the small procession, guarding their lord and his promised bride. Rosamunde followed just behind her cousin. It was a lovely warm afternoon and pleasant for riding. A few hours in the saddle would bring them to the coast where the ship would be waiting. How much she would have enjoyed the prospect, had she not understood what awaited her when they reached England.

Somehow she must find a way to get away from them once they reached England. Surely her father would be pleased to see her and would protect her?

Sir Raphael de Valmont sat his horse and looked out to sea. The ship that was to have taken him and his companions from France to England had been battered by a storm in mid-ocean and its mainmast was now being repaired. Unless he could find another vessel with space for five passengers, he might be forced to linger here another week.

‘The Southern Star sails with the morning tide,’ a voice said to his left and he turned to look at his friend Broderick. ‘But her captain says he has been asked to take a knight and his entourage to England and there is no room for us.’

‘Would he not let us find a corner of the deck on which to sit?’

‘He says that if we wait until the knight comes he will enquire how many there are in his party. Should there be room he might allow us to sleep on deck.’

Raphael nodded, his gaze brooding as he saw a party of horsemen arriving. His journey had become urgent ever since the news of his father’s illness had reached him as he had journeyed through France.

‘I believe the knight has arrived,’ Raphael said, his eyes narrowed, intent. ‘There are three ladies, a knight and ten men-at-arms, besides some five servants. The Southern Star is not large enough to take us all as well. We should search elsewhere.’

‘I’ve been told there is a cove just down the coast and two merchant ships are in port,’ Jonathan de Vere said as he rode up to them. ‘It will take us no more than thirty minutes to ride there. If we cannot find a berth for us all there, you must go on alone, Raphael.’

‘We vowed we would stay together until we reached England.’ Raphael’s mouth was unsmiling as he looked at his four friends: Sir Broderick, Sir Jonathan de Vere, Sir Michael Borthwick and Janquil. He had been some months on the journey from the Holy Land to Normandy, for it had now been a year since Messalina’s death. His friends had pledged to journey with him so that he might place his claim to recover from the goldsmith what should now have been his. In return, Raphael had promised that he would take them all into his service if he became rich.

They had eventually found the wealthy but elusive goldsmith. Markoff had at first been reluctant to part with the money and jewels lodged with him, but after verifying Raphael’s proof of marriage and the subsequent death of the whole family had admitted that he was the rightful owner. Raphael had considered making his home in Normandy, where he had purchased an estate, but then a message had reached him: his father was very ill and wished to see his son as soon as possible.

‘I have no intention of leaving you behind, my friends,’ Raphael continued. ‘My father may even be dead for all I know. The messenger told me that he had been searching for us for several weeks.’

‘Your father may have yet recovered. Tis a pity the ship did not wait here for you as was promised.’

‘The captain returned to England with a cargo. No doubt he intended to meet us here on time in the Broken Vows but the weather was against him.’

‘Shall we ride in search of these other ships?’

‘I shall speak to Captain Middleton and advise him of our intention.’ Raphael dismounted, giving the reins of his horse to his squire. ‘Wait here, Janquil. I shall not be long.’

Approaching the captain of the Broken Vows, Raphael told him of his intention to seek a berth elsewhere.

‘I shall be ready to sail in two days, sir, once the mainmast is mended,’ the captain said. ‘If you do not return before then, I shall seek another cargo and sail for England.’

‘Yes, you should do so. We shall return in good time if we fail to find berths elsewhere.’

Raphael turned away, intending to rejoin his friends. As he did so, he saw that the ladies had dismounted and were waiting to go aboard their ship. One of them was very beautiful with golden hair and a proud bearing; one was clearly a serving woman, but the other was less easy to place. She was very lovely but in a quieter way, her hair hanging down her back in a thick plait and the colour of burnished copper. Her eyes were green, her mouth soft and generous, and there was something about her that made him wonder if he’d seen her before. Her tunic was more modest than the proud lady’s and yet she had the bearing and look of nobility. Perhaps she was a relation rather than a serving woman.

The knight’s party was moving towards the ship as Raphael left the water’s edge. Just as they were about to pass one another, the woman with red hair seemed to stumble. Instinctively, Raphael reached out his hand to steady her.

‘I caught my heel.’ Her cheeks were flushed as she looked down at her boot, the heel of which had wrenched from its socket and was hanging loose. ‘Forgive me, sir.’

‘It was nothing. That boot will need mending,’ he commented.

‘Yes, I should have worn my others …’ She glanced up, her eyes widening, as if shocked. For a moment she seemed to hesitate and he thought there was a look of appeal in her eyes, but then her gaze dropped. ‘Excuse me, I must join my friends.’

‘Yes, of course—as must I.’

She moved away towards the ship but Raphael stood where he was, staring after her as she boarded the ship.

She seemed to become aware of him staring at her and for a moment she turned towards him. Their eyes met and another delicate flush touched her cheeks but she did not immediately glance away. Raphael felt a stirring of interest; he crushed it immediately. She was not a whore to be taken to his bed and dismissed the next morning, and he would never allow himself to care again.

As memories of his dead wife stirred, his expression hardened and he averted his gaze. The woman was lovely but she could never be anything to him. The memory of that night when he’d found the family home burned to the ground and his wife’s body lying in the yard was so strong and so sharp that he actually felt a stabbing pain in his chest.

Raphael realised that he had been staring at the English knight’s party without really seeing them. The women were being taken belowdecks now. Raphael felt a sudden sense of loss. He did not even know her name—the woman with the plait—yet it could not matter. They would never meet again. As her turn came to go below, she looked back and he sensed that she was searching for him. For a brief moment a smile touched her mouth, almost as if she knew him. Once again he felt that she wanted to speak to him, perhaps to ask for help, then her companion spoke to her and she walked onto the ship and was lost to his view.

Raphael crushed the urge to go after her, sweep her up and carry her off with him. For a moment he had seen something in her that he’d believed long forgotten, the spirit and joy he’d felt when he had first set out for the Crusades. No, that was ridiculous. She was nothing to him and never could be. He had built up a barrier, shutting out the pain of grief and loss. To allow softer feelings in would be to relive the pain that had almost destroyed him.

As he remounted his horse, Raphael put the red-haired woman from his mind. She was lovely, but he would not seek beauty or sweetness again. If he married for a second time it would be purely to get himself an heir.

‘What are you thinking of?’ Angelina’s sharp voice cut into Rosamunde’s thoughts. ‘I was speaking to you, cousin. Why did you not answer me?’

‘Forgive me. I did not hear you, cousin. What was it you wished me to do for you?’

‘I have a headache,’ Angelina said. ‘There must be something in my baggage to ease it. You are skilled with herbs—pray attend to it this instant.’

‘Yes, cousin,’ Rosamunde said. ‘I am sorry that you are feeling unwell. I shall make a soothing drink for you at once.’

Leaving her cousin to harangue her maid, Rosamunde went to find the herbs and beg some water from the ship’s quartermaster. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard Angelina speaking to her. The knight who had saved her from a tumble and then had stared at her—surely it could not be Raphael?

No, she was letting her imagination run away with her. The youth she’d remembered all these years had had such a merry smile, but this man looked harsh—and weighed down with sorrow.

She had been tempted to beg for his help but then, as she had seen him frown, had known she must be mistaken. He could not be the young knight she had met so many years before at her father’s castle. And even if he was, he had not known her. True, he had stared at her, but even when he had touched her there had been no recognition in his eyes.

This knight was a stranger and she had not dared to approach him for help. She must simply wait for her chance to slip away to her father’s house.

Chapter Two

‘I am not sure I understand you, cousin.’ Despite having overheard her cousin plotting with Sir Thomas, Rosamunde still found it difficult to believe that Angelina intended to go through with what she had just told her. ‘You wish me to lie to Lord Mornay—to pretend to be you. Why would you expect me to do such a thing?’

‘Because the ransom must be paid,’ Angelina said, a flash of temper in her eyes. ‘If I take it myself, Lord Mornay might decide he wants me as well as the money. He will accept it from you. You are not beautiful enough to arouse his interest and he is bound to let you go. Just give him the gold and then you may go home. I will give you fifty talents as your dowry, as I promised—though whether anyone will marry you for that sum I do not know.’

‘What makes you think Lord Mornay wishes to wed you? Does he know you?’

‘No, of course not. If he did I could not send you in my place,’ Angelina replied. ‘It was a condition of the ransom that I must take the gold myself—but Sir Thomas wants me to go to his home where we shall be married. After all, what can it matter to you? You have no prospect of marriage, even if I give you the money.’

‘No, but he may discover the truth and then he might refuse to release Count Torrs. Do you not think you should do as Lord Mornay demands?’

‘No, I shall not,’ Angelina said sulkily. ‘You must do this for me, Rosamunde. It is not so very much to ask considering what your father owes mine. If you oblige me, the debt will be cancelled. If you refuse, I shall ask for it to be repaid at once.’

Rosamunde felt coldness at her nape. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘I did not know my father owed yours money.’

‘Why else would he send you to me? You were to serve me until the debt was paid—but if you will not oblige me I shall send you home and demand payment at once.’

She was lying! Surely she was lying? Rosamunde could not believe that her father owed so much money to his brother-in-law and had not told her. If it were true, it would make her little better than a bondswoman.

‘My father never spoke of his debt. You said I could see him when we pass my home. I beg you to allow me to speak with him before I give you my answer.’

‘Are you accusing me of lying?’ Angelina glared at her furiously.

‘I am not accusing you of anything—but I must speak to my father before I give you my promise.’

‘If he agrees there is a debt, will you do as I ask?’

‘If I do, the debt will be paid?’

Rosamunde felt as if she were suffocating. She had meant to escape from her cousin and beg her father’s protection, but if he owed his brother-in-law a great deal of money she was honour-bound to serve her cousin in whatever way she demanded. Indeed, she would be a bondservant and tied to Angelina until the other woman gave her leave to go. Serving her cousin as one of her ladies was one thing but to be bonded through a debt was very different.

‘Yes, of course. Have I not said so?’

‘Then I shall do what you want—providing my father admits there is a debt,’ Rosamunde reiterated.

Angelina glanced at Sir Thomas. He inclined his head and she did the same.

‘You may see your father—but remember that he is old and sick and his mind may play tricks on him. However, I have a deed that proves he owes my father more than he could ever pay.’

‘May I see it?’

‘Yes, if you wish.’ Angelina turned to Sir Thomas. He handed her a small wooden coffer bound with iron. She lifted the lid and took out a roll of parchment, handing it to Rosamunde. ‘There, look at the signature on the bottom—is that not your father’s?’

Rosamunde looked and her heart sank. It was indeed her father’s hand and the sum of money mentioned was five-hundred gold talents, far more than his land and keep were worth.

‘Yes, this is my father’s hand,’ she said, her throat dry. ‘It seems you have proof. However, I still wish to see my father.’

‘Remember what I’ve told you. If you refuse me, I shall demand payment of the debt.’

Rosamunde returned the parchment. Her eyes pricked with tears she refused to shed. ‘I shall visit my father and then I will give you my answer.’

‘Your father lies on his bed sick to the heart,’ Maire told her when she kissed her old nurse and asked for him. ‘We’ve done our best to care for him, my lady, but he eats hardly anything and will not leave his bed.’

‘I shall go up to his chamber and see him,’ Rosamunde said. ‘If he is truly ill, we must have the physician.’

‘There’s no money for such things. I bought a cure in the village from the wise woman but he refused to take it. ‘Tis my belief that he wants to die.’

Rosamunde nodded, her throat tight with tears. It seemed that her father’s financial situation had not improved while she had been away, but at least he still had a bed to lie on. If Angelina demanded the return of the loan, he would be forced to lie under the hedgerow. How long would he live then?

She saw the signs of neglect everywhere. The servants might care for her father but no repairs had been done. The yard had not been swept and it looked as though no one had changed the rushes in weeks.

The room was dark and smelled of stale urine when she entered. Rosamunde felt angry. The servants had little enough to do; they could at least keep her father clean and his room smelling sweet.

‘Who is it?’ he asked as she approached the bed. ‘I want nothing. Leave me be. How many times must I tell you to leave me in peace?’

‘It is I, Father,’ Rosamunde replied. ‘Angelina has returned to England and she gave me permission to visit you while she rests at the inn this night.’

‘Rosamunde?’ His eyes opened and he looked at her. ‘You should not be here. There is nothing left for you, child. I have wasted my fortune and there is nothing but debt. Make your life elsewhere and leave me to die.’

‘I do not wish you to die, Father. Before I leave I shall see to your bed and have the room cleaned.’

Her father pushed himself up against the pillows, looking at her warily. ‘If you’ve come to me for money I’ve none to give you. I can hardly feed the servants, let alone pay my taxes. Next time Prince John’s collector comes, he will take what little we have left, but I shall not see it. I shall be in my grave.’

‘Are you in pain, Father?’ Rosamunde bent to plump up his pillows. He shook his head. ‘Then you should try to get up and come down for your supper. It will be easier for the servants to clean if you are not here.’

‘You want me to live but there’s no hope left, child. All hope fled when she died.’

‘Mother would be so angry with you!’ Rosamunde exclaimed. ‘The servants have neglected the house and the yard. She would not have liked that, Father.’

‘I know it. She would also be angry that I sent you away to your cousin, daughter, but what else could I do? If you stay here you will end in poverty.’

‘Could we not petition the King for a pension?’

‘If Richard were home he might do something for us, but he will need money himself. His ransom has not yet been paid. I gave all I had, but I should have thought of you instead, Rosamunde.’

‘Do not worry about me, Father. Perhaps I shall find someone who will marry me.’

‘If I had a dowry for you it would give you a chance, but I have spent even that, child. Your mother would not let me while she lived, but when she died I spent it on building a tomb for her.’

‘Do not look so sad, Father.’ Rosamunde reached for his hand. ‘Tell me, why did you borrow money from my uncle? Where did it go?’

‘Where did all the money go? I wasted it on others instead of saving it for my child. Did I borrow from your uncle?’ Her father wrinkled his brow. ‘I cannot recall the debt, Rosamunde, but your mother’s brother is a good man. If he says there is a debt, it must be so. He has helped me many times and I owe him more than I could ever repay. If he asks something of you, you must oblige him for my honour’s sake.’

Rosamunde’s heart sank. She’d thought for a moment he would deny the debt, but the truth was he was too old and sick to know. He had beggared himself by his generosity and now he was ill. At least she could make sure that he died in his own bed. Angelina had promised the debt would be paid if she took her place, and she’d also promised a gift of fifty gold talents. It was a large sum of money and would feed the household here for months, as well as pay her father’s taxes.

‘Well?’ Angelina demanded when she walked into the inn bedchamber the next morning. ‘You’ve seen your father—what did he say?’

‘He does not recall the debt; he is too old and ill to know. But it does not matter if you are lying. You promised me fifty gold talents if I help you—will you keep your word?’

‘Come to me after you’ve delivered the ransom and I will pay you.’ Angelina’s eyes gleamed suddenly. ‘I shall give you my bond and seal it. It will be binding in law.’

‘Very well, I shall do as you ask,’ Rosamunde said. Her father had told her she must do all she could for her uncle for his honour and, though he could not have guessed what that entailed, Rosamunde felt duty-bound to obey him. Unless she took the ransom her uncle might languish in prison for ever. ‘If Lord Mornay does not accept me as you, I shall forfeit all right to the money, but if he does I shall return to claim my dues.’

‘Yes, of course. There is paper in my coffer. Bring me a quill and ink and I shall write the bond for you,’ Angelina said.

Her cousin sat down at a board. Rosamunde went to her coffer and brought her parchment, ink, a pen and sealing wax. She read the document. Angelina promised her fifty gold talents and the cancellation of her father’s debt, once Count Torrs was released, and she sealed it with her own ring.

Rosamunde placed the parchment inside her tunic. ‘If I am to pose as you, I should have servants. Is Margaret to come with me?’

‘No, I need her myself. I will arrange for one of the inn servants to go with you.’

‘I asked Maire to accompany me here, so I will take her with me. She is old and my father’s other servants will care for him until we return.’

‘What will you do afterwards?’ Angelina asked, though for once she could not look her cousin in the face.

‘I shall return to my father. I shall send Maire for my money and care for my father until he dies.’

‘You should use the money to buy yourself a husband. Not many knights would take you for so little, but you might find a freeman who would wed you. It would set you up in a modest inn where you might earn your living.’

‘I thank you for your advice, cousin, but my father needs someone to care for him.’

‘Well, you must do as you please,’ Angelina said a little uncomfortably. ‘We shall send three men as your escort, but once you reach Lord Mornay’s castle you and your nurse will go in alone.’

‘But why? Surely they will wait and escort me home?’

‘They will wait outside the castle for three days. After that, they will leave you to make your own way.’

‘Why will they not come in with me?’ Rosamunde frowned. ‘What are you not telling me, Angelina?’

She sensed that her cousin was hiding something but could not tell what it might be.

‘I am telling you how it must be. Lord Mornay demands that your escort leave once you are inside the castle. He will not admit armed men into his bailey.’

‘I think there is more to this than you have told me,’ Rosamunde said, suddenly suspicious. ‘Will you not tell me the truth, cousin?’

‘There is no more to tell. You should leave now. Lord Mornay expects you before nightfall.’

Rosamunde inclined her head and turned away. What had she missed that day when she’d overheard her cousin plotting with Sir Thomas to send Rosamunde in her stead? There was something more than the simple payment of a ransom—but what?

Rosamunde noticed the odd looks her escort gave her as they waited for her to approach them. She wondered what they were thinking, but did not ask. She was certain that Angelina had not told her the whole truth.

‘Why are you going to this man?’ Maire asked. ‘I have heard of Lord Mornay. He is an evil, wicked man and people fear him.’

Rosamunde frowned at this; perhaps the old woman was simply exaggerating. ‘I am to take the ransom for my uncle—I told you, Maire. When Count Torrs is free, my cousin will pay me fifty gold talents and my father’s debt is cancelled. I shall come home and look after him—and the rest of you. Somehow I will earn a living for us all.’

‘What could a girl like you do to earn money?’ Maire looked scornful.

‘I can sew and cook. Perhaps I can make dresses for the wives of noblemen. Even if I earn just enough to buy hens and a cow it will help. We could raise our own pigs and grow our own worts and soft fruits.’

‘And what of the taxes? The prince’s collectors took much of what we had the last time they came—armour, silver and pewter that would have fetched far more than your father owed them. If he had been stronger he could have forced them to take just what was due, but they knocked us aside and stole what they pleased.’

‘If King Richard returns he will put a stop to his brother’s unfair taxes,’ Rosamunde said. ‘It is not right that people should be treated so badly.’

‘Aye, that’s what everyone hopes, but it is not likely that the prince will pay his brother’s ransom. Why should he when he has the power?’

‘I am sure that the King has enough loyal supporters to raise the money. In time he will return.’

Rosamunde gave her hand to the groom and was helped to mount the horse she had been given for her journey. She decided that she would keep both Maire’s pony and this horse. Angelina could deduct their worth from the fifty talents if she chose, but at least Rosamunde would have something. She did not trust her cousin at all, for there had been an odd, sly look in her eyes when she had given her the paper.

‘I would help you if I could, lady.’