Ransom Bride

‘Do you fear me, Kathryn?’

‘No, for I have no reason,’ she replied with a smile. ‘I find you…difficult, for you seem to be not always the same. At times—’ She broke off, for she heard voices and then three men came into the courtyard. One of them was clearly the former galley slave—he was thin almost to the point of emaciation and his hair was grey, straggling about his face. His clothes hung on his body, though they were not rags, and some attempt had been made to keep him clean, his beard neatly trimmed.

Kathryn’s throat closed and she could hardly keep from crying out in distress as she saw him, for pity stirred her and her eyes stung. She got up and moved towards him, a smile upon her lips.

‘Will you not come and sit by me, sir?’ she invited. ‘I would like to hear your story if you will tell it to me.’

His eyes were deep blue, though not quite the colour of Lorenzo’s—or Dickon’s. Kathryn felt the disappointment keenly. A man might change in many respects, but his eyes would surely not change their colour?

For a moment the man seemed confused, as if he feared to believe his eyes, and then he shuffled forward, sitting on the bench she indicated. He stared at her, seeming bewildered, not truly afraid, but wary.

Kathryn sat beside him. She saw that Lorenzo made a dismissive movement of his hand, causing his men to withdraw to a distance, though he still stood closer than she would have liked.

‘There is no need to be afraid,’ she said to the former slave. ‘No one will hurt you. I promise you that, sir. I only wish to hear your story.’

‘I am not afraid,’ he replied. He spoke English, but hesitantly as though the words came hard to him. Yet that was not surprising, for he must have become accustomed to another language, the language of his cruel masters.

‘What is your name?’

‘I do not know,’ he said. ‘I am called dog. I am less than a dog.’

Kathryn swallowed hard, for the tears were close. ‘Do you have no memory of what you were before…?’

‘I am an infidel dog,’ he repeated. ‘I do not think, therefore I am not a man.’

‘That is so wrong, so cruel,’ Kathryn cried and saw him flinch as she put out a hand to touch him. ‘No, no, I would not hurt you.’

‘Am I yours now?’ he asked. ‘Have you bought me?’

‘You are not to be sold.’ Kathryn turned to Lorenzo with a look of appeal in her eyes. ‘Tell him that he is not a slave…please?’

Lorenzo hesitated, then inclined his head. ‘If you recover your strength, you might work for me, but you are not a slave. If you wish to leave here, you are free to go when you wish.’

‘Where would I go?’ The man’s blue eyes were so bewildered that Kathryn spoke without thinking.

‘You may come to Cyprus with my uncle and me,’ she said impulsively. ‘Not as our slave, but as one of our people. When you are well, you may perhaps work in the gardens or some such thing, but you will be paid for what you do.’

‘You would take me with you?’

‘Yes,’ Kathryn promised recklessly. ‘You shall be my friend and help me when you can.’ Her heart caught as she saw tears trickle from the corner of his eyes and she had to wipe away her own tears. She was shocked as the man fell to his knees before her and kissed the toes of her shoes that were peeping from beneath her gown. ‘No, no, you must not do that. You are not a slave. I shall take care of you.’

‘Get up,’ Lorenzo commanded, his voice harsh. ‘You are a man, not a dog. Since you understand English you shall be called William. You will return to the house where you have been cared for until Mistress Rowlands leaves for Cyprus with her uncle and aunt.’ He signalled to his men, who came to help the newly named William to his feet.

Kathryn watched as the former galley slave shuffled off, helped by Lorenzo’s men. She turned to look at him, her eyes bright with anger.

‘Why were you so harsh to him?’

‘He needed to be told, for you had unmanned him with your kindness. He is not used to that, Kathryn. You must give him time to become accustomed to his new life.’

She felt hurt by his accusation. ‘He needs kindness, not harsh words.’

‘I have dealt with many such victims. You do not know what you do, Kathryn. If you treat him too kindly he will become as your lapdog, a pet to beg at your feet for scraps. No man should feel that way. It is better that he hates, for hatred makes a man strong.’

Kathryn’s eyes widened as she looked at him. ‘Is that how you became so strong?’ she asked. ‘Do you hate so much that you cannot feel kindness, Lorenzo?’

It was the first time she had used his given name and she did not know what had prompted her to do it, and yet she felt that somehow she was closer to him, closer to knowing him than she had ever been.

‘I learned from a master,’ he said. ‘What will you do if your uncle refuses to have the man as one of his people?’

Kathryn dropped her eyes, for she did not know. Lord Mountfitchet had come to find his son and she knew that William was not Dickon, felt it instinctively inside her. She had wanted it to be so, but it was not—and yet her heart was filled with pity for the former slave.

‘I do not think he will refuse me,’ she said. ‘Lord Mountfitchet has always been kind and generous to me—especially since we lost Dickon.’

‘You called him Lord Mountfitchet then—is he not your uncle?’

‘We are not blood relations,’ Kathryn said. ‘My father and Uncle Charles are lifelong friends and I would have married Richard Mountfitchet if…’She shook her head sadly. ‘This man is not the one I loved. I would have known it—besides, his eyes are too pale a blue. Dickon had eyes like…’ She looked up and found herself gazing into eyes so blue that they took her breath. ‘He had your eyes, Lorenzo. If I did not know it was impossible, I would say that you were more likely to be Richard Mountfitchet than that poor creature.’

‘I am not the man you seek!’ Lorenzo’s tone was harsh, even angry.

‘I know that. Forgive me,’ she apologised. ‘How could you be a poor galley slave? You have too much pride, too much arrogance.’

To her surprise, Lorenzo threw back his head and laughed. She had not expected him to be amused and was at a loss for words.

‘Nay, Madonna, do not look so bewildered. Should I be angry when you pay me a compliment?’

‘It was not meant as one,’ she came back swiftly.

‘Perhaps not, but I take it as one,’ he said. ‘You think me a Venetian prince, perhaps, born to the life I lead?’

‘Is that not the case?’ she asked and for a moment as she looked deep into his eyes her heart raced. Something in his eyes made her think that he would take her in his arms and kiss her, and her heart leapt with sudden excitement. Her breath caught, her eyes opening wider as she looked up into his face.

‘It might be—and then again it might not,’ Lorenzo told her, a smile of mockery in his eyes now. His laughter had been genuine, but this was meant to put her in her place. ‘You will not gain my secret so easily, Kathryn.’

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