Connie Mason (20 page)

“Aye, you do. You have Rosamond. You’re promised to her. I’m naught to you.”

“You know that’s not true.” He paused. “Mariah, before I leave, is there anything you wish to tell me? You are holding something back from me, I can feel it. What is it you’re not telling me?”

“Naught . . . I—”

“Mama! Falcon! Is Osgood gone?”

Falcon knelt to Robbie’s level. “Sir Osgood rode away, for good, I hope.”

“I’m glad. He was a bad man. I wish you could stay here with me and Mama.”

“Sir Falcon cannot stay, Robbie. He has duties elsewhere.”

Robbie stole a glance at Rosamond. “Is
she
his duty?”

“That’s enough, Robbie,” Mariah said sternly. “You cannot have everything you want.”

Falcon rose. “Your son is going to make a fine earl one day, Mariah,” he said wistfully.

“Perhaps you will have a son of your own in the not too distant future.”

“Perhaps,” Falcon said, trying to picture children with Rosamond’s features and failing.

Rosamond came up to join them. “I am ready, Falcon. Osgood is gone—’tis time for us to leave.”

John and Elizabeth walked hand in hand out the door. A glance into the courtyard told Falcon that the men were already mounted and ready to leave.

“Jamie will help you mount,” Falcon told Rosamond. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Rosamond looked as if she wanted to protest, but she must have thought better of it, for she flounced off.

Falcon pulled Mariah into an alcove where they
couldn’t be seen. “I meant what I said, Mariah. Should you or Robbie need me, send word to the king. He will know where to find me.”

Pain settled in Mariah’s heart. She knew if she told Falcon that Robbie was his son, he would take their child away for Rosamond to raise. She couldn’t bear losing the only person she had left to love. ’Twas best to say goodbye to Falcon now and bear the heartache of his leaving. There would always be a bond between them, no matter where he went or whom he was with.

“I promise to send word to the king should I need help,” Mariah choked out.

Falcon nodded. But he couldn’t leave her this way. “If by chance you are with child, promise you will let me know.”

“To what purpose, Falcon? I will raise your child and love it without reservations should there be one.”
Just as I have done with Robbie
. “You belong to Rosamond now; you must think of her and the children you will have together.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

Falcon stared at her for a heartbeat before pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Mariah melted into him, kissing him back as if it were the last time she would ever see him, which indeed she was sure it was.

Abruptly he broke off the kiss. He stared into her eyes one last time and then strode off.

Osgood’s party traveled only as far as a range of nearby hills. They halted there, out of sight of the keep, until a
lookout posted on high ground reported that Falcon and his men had left Mildenhall. Martha, who had been resting beneath a tree, rose and shaded her eyes against the sun.

“What are you planning, Osgood? Please tell me you intend Lady Mariah no harm.”

“Don’t question me, wife,” Osgood snarled. “One of my men will see you home.”

“Osgood, please leave Mariah alone. Why are you doing this?”

Without warning, Osgood struck her across the face. She staggered backward, into Walter’s arms. Walter promptly lifted her and set her on her horse.

“If you bear me any love, Walter, you’ll try to talk your father out of what he is planning.”

“I’m not going to hurt Mariah, Mama,” Walter replied gruffly. “I’m going to marry her. With Falcon gone, naught stands in our way of claiming Mildenhall.”

“Mariah will never marry you,” Martha warned. “Besides, Mildenhall belongs to Robbie.”

Laughing, Osgood pushed Walter aside. “She’ll agree. I intend to use her bastard son to force her to our will. Then once Walter gets a son from her, Robbie will quietly disappear.” He slapped the rump of Martha’s horse and it shot forward. One of Osgood’s mercenaries followed.

“When do we leave?” Walter asked.

“As soon as I’m positive Falcon won’t turn back.”

“How do we get Mariah to raise the portcullis?”

“Trust me, Walter; I have devised a plan that is foolproof. I kept some of your mother’s clothing. One of the smaller mercenaries will don the clothing and pose as your mother. When we reach the portcullis, I’ll claim that
Martha became ill and we had to return. Mariah has a kind heart; she’ll let us through the gate.”

Osgood sent the lookout back up the hill to watch the road.

Four hours later, Osgood’s party, which included a woman shrouded in a cloak, returned to Mildenhall. A guard on the wall walk spotted them and gave the warning. Mariah hurried from the keep and climbed the ladder to get a better look.

“What do you suppose they want?” Mariah asked Sir Maynard.

“We’re about to find out, milady,” he replied.

The group approached the portcullis. Osgood looked up, spotting Mariah immediately. “Lady Mariah, Martha is ill. Please allow us to enter so that your healer can examine her. We cannot continue to Southwold with my wife in this condition.”

“When did she become ill?” Mariah called down to him.

“Soon after we left Miildenhall. Look at her—does she not look ill?”

Mariah glanced at the poor woman bent over the saddle, and her heart went out to her. “What say you, Sir Maynard? Shall we allow Dame Martha to enter?”

“I do not trust Osgood,” Maynard replied. “I say nay.”

“Oh, but look at Martha. She could be desperately ill. I cannot bear to see her that way. Edwina may be able to help her. Order the portcullis lifted so that Martha can enter.”

Sir Maynard gave the order as Mariah scrambled down the ladder to await Martha. The portcullis cranked up slowly. Mariah smiled at the cloaked figure as she rode
through the gate, her shoulders bent, her spirit apparently defeated.

“Martha, welcome—”

The greeting died in her throat as Osgood’s mercenaries surged through the opening behind the ill woman. Stunned, Mariah watched as “Martha” ripped off her cloak and gown, revealing a small but burly mercenary. Osgood leapt down from his mount, grabbed Mariah and ordered, “If you value your life, order your guardsmen to back away.”

By now, guardsmen were pouring from the keep, their swords drawn, ready to do battle. Mariah detested bloodshed, could not bear to see her faithful men maimed or slain, so she did as Osgood asked. Though surrendering her keep to Osgood infuriated Mariah, what truly terrified her was Osgood’s evil intent toward Robbie. She knew he meant her son harm.

Falcon, I need you
, she silently implored.
Please help me
.

Her plea floated upward and sped away on a gust of wind.

Becca heard the commotion in the courtyard and ran to the window. Fear raced through her when she saw the activity below. Sir Osgood had returned; he held Lady Mariah captive while his mercenaries were disarming Mildenhall’s guardsmen. Panic-stricken, Becca tried to recall what Lady Mariah had told her about safeguarding Robbie should disaster strike.

Suddenly Edwina burst into the hall. “Pack some clothing for Robbie and yourself while I fetch the lad,” the old crone said. “You must leave the keep immediately. Sir Osgood means Robbie harm.”

Becca didn’t ask questions as she flew to obey Edwina.

“Where are we going?” Robbie asked when Edwina burst into the nursery and announced that he and Becca were leaving.

“Sir Osgood has returned and is up to no good. You cannot remain in the keep, lad,” she said in a hushed voice. “You mustn’t make a sound. Promise now, for your life could depend upon it.”

“Where is Mama?”

“Your mama would want you to be safe. She’ll be fine; never doubt your mother’s courage or resourcefulness.”

Robbie brightened. “Mayhap Falcon will return to save us.”

“Aye, lad, mayhap he will. We will pray for that.” She glanced toward the door. “Here’s Becca—’tis time to leave.”

Becca arrived with a satchel filled with clothing. “Give me that,” Edwina said. “Bring the lad and follow me.”

Cautiously Edwina led them out into the corridor toward the winding staircase. All was quiet below in the hall.

“Hurry,” Edwina admonished.

They hastened down the stairs and ducked into the kitchen. The hall and kitchen were both deserted. Apparently, the servants had fled through the postern gate at the first sign of trouble. Edwina hurried Robbie and Becca out the back door and through the kitchen garden.

“Where are we going?” Becca asked.

“Quiet,” Edwina said, shushing her.

Edwina stopped before the postern gate, a thick panel that latched from the inside. Osgood might send a man to guard it later, but he was far too busy in the courtyard to attend to it now. The gate was unlatched, proving Edwina’s theory that the servants had fled through it. Edwina and Becca worked together to pull the heavy gate open, and then Becca and Robbie slipped through.

“Listen carefully,” Edwina whispered. “Go to the alewife in the village; tell her I sent you and what has happened here. Ask her to hide you in her cellar until we can send Robbie to London to seek the king’s protection. Can you remember that, Becca girl?”

“Aye,” Becca replied. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Nay, I must stay to help Mariah.”

Then, with Becca pulling and Edwina pushing, the gate slid smoothly back into place. Edwina shot home the bolt and returned to the keep.

Meanwhile, Mariah’s guardsmen had been disarmed by Osgood’s mercenaries.

“Lock the guardsmen and steward in the barracks,” Osgood ordered. Then he pushed Mariah into Walter’s arms. “Take your betrothed into the hall.” He sneered at Mariah. “Walter has something to ask you, Mariah, and you had best give the correct answer.”

“I’ll give you naught,” Mariah said defiantly.

Walter literally dragged Mariah into the hall. Seizing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Will you wed me, Mariah of Mildenhall?”

“Nay, Walter. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”

“You’ve just made a serious mistake, lady,” Osgood warned. He called to one of his mercenaries. “Hugo, fetch Mariah’s bastard!”

Hugo headed purposefully toward the nursery. Mariah tried to pull free from Walter’s hamlike hands, but he held her fast. “If you harm Robbie, I swear you will regret it. Falcon will avenge him.”

“Falcon has a betrothed now. Why would he put himself out for you and your bastard? He will have no time for you now that he has Rosamond.”

Mariah saw Edwina sidle into the hall from the kitchen, and hope flared. Elation replaced that slim hope when Edwina nodded and smiled at her. Mariah knew exactly what Edwina was trying to tell her. Robbie was safe.

Squaring her shoulders, Mariah said, “I repeat: I will not marry you, Walter Fitzhugh.”

“Do you value your son so little that you would risk his life?” Osgood growled.

“My son
is
my life,” Mariah replied.

“Then I suggest you wed Walter with haste. I will send someone to fetch the priest.”

Before Osgood could act, Hugo burst into the hall. “The boy is gone!”

Mariah dared a glance at Edwina. A small smile played across her lips.

Osgood yanked Mariah away from Walter and gave her a vicious shake. “Where is he, lady?”

“I know not,” Mariah said through clattering teeth. If Osgood didn’t stop shaking her, he’d scramble her brains.

“Release Lady Mariah!”

Osgood stopped shaking Mariah as Father Francis ran toward her, his black robes flapping around his skinny ankles.

“Ah, the priest,” Osgood said. “You’re just in time to perform the ceremony. Mariah and Walter wish to wed.”

“Nay, he lies! I have
not
agreed to wed Walter.”

“But you will as soon as we find the boy. Walter, see to it. Search every nook and cranny in the keep.” He returned his attention to Mariah. “We’ll find him, and when we do, his continued good health will depend upon your willingness to become Walter’s wife.”

Walter left immediately to direct the search.

“And then what?” Mariah dared. “How long will Robbie live after I wed Walter? I put no faith in your word, Osgood. Edmond trusted you not, and neither do I.”

“You have no choice,” Osgood replied. “I know you, Mariah. You would gladly sacrifice yourself to save your son.”

“Aye,” Mariah answered. “But perhaps my sacrifice won’t be needed. You have to produce Robbie first.”

Osgood dragged Mariah to a bench and pushed her onto it. “Ale!” he called. “And food. We’ve had naught to eat since we broke our fast this morning.”

No one answered his call. “Where are the servants?” he demanded.

Mariah shrugged. “If they were smart, they would have fled at the first sign of trouble.”

“Fled? How? I replaced your gateman with my own man.”

Mariah remained mute. Let him find the postern gate on his own. Had she known what Osgood intended, she would have fled through it herself. She worried about Robbie and prayed that Edwina had found a safe place for him to hide. As long as Robbie remained safe, Mariah would continue to defy Osgood and Walter. What could they do to her? Even if they killed her, Robbie would still be Edmond’s heir.

One of Osgood’s men drew a pitcher of ale from a barrel sitting near a sideboard and placed it before Osgood. Osgood drank deeply from the pitcher, too thirsty to wait for a mug. Mariah eyed him with disgust as ale dribbled from his chin onto his stained doublet.

A small smile played at the corners of Mariah’s mouth as, one by one, Osgood’s mercenaries returned to the hall without Robbie. When the last man had reported his failure, Osgood flew into a rage.

Rising, he clenched his fist and punched it into the air. “Search again. There has to be a hidey-hole someplace in this keep where a small boy can be concealed.”

The men fanned out again. Osgood grew impatient and began to pace. Hours passed before the men returned empty-handed, much to Mariah’s relief. Osgood then ordered the men into the courtyard and bailey, demanding that they search every building within Mildenhall’s walls.