Connie Mason (21 page)

Mariah’s heart nearly stopped when, after the men left, Osgood noticed Edwina and beckoned to her. “You there, come here!”

Edwina shuffled forward. Mariah tried to send her a silent message to hold firm against Osgood, but Edwina did not look up.

“What will you have of me, Sir Osgood?” Edwina whined.

“It grows late—fetch food for me and my men.”

Mariah rose. “Edwina is a healer, not a cook. I will help her.”

Osgood pushed her back onto the bench, more roughly than was necessary. “Nay, stay here. I trust you not.”

“Then we are even,” Mariah said sweetly, “for I have never trusted you.”

Osgood blasted her with a daunting look before waving Edwina off to the kitchen.

Father Francis hurried over to lend his support to Mariah. “Have faith, daughter,” the priest whispered. “Our good Lord will find a way to resolve this situation. Last time He sent Sir Falcon to us. Perhaps He—”

“Nay, Father. Sir Falcon has no reason to return. We must find our own way out of this coil.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Osgood demanded.

“I am but lending Lady Mariah courage,” Father Francis said.

“What do you know about her bastard’s disappearance, priest? Did you have a hand in it?”

“Nay, I was on my knees in the chapel, deep in prayer.”

At length, Edwina arrived with a tray of bread, meat and cheese, which she banged down before Osgood. “If your men wish to eat, they can fetch their own food from the kitchen. I am old and frail and not up to the task you set for me.”

She hobbled away before Osgood could stop her.

“Belligerent old crone,” Osgood grumbled as he began shoveling food into his mouth.

“Edwina did as you asked. Are your men too lazy to go into the kitchen and find their own food?” Mariah asked.

“What are we supposed to do for a cook?” Osgood whined.

“Perhaps one of your men can manage. You cannot blame the servants for disappearing after your mistreatment of them the last time you occupied Mildenhall. If Sir Falcon hadn’t arrived, they would have found a way out of the keep then, too, just as they did today.”

Osgood grasped her wrist, squeezing hurtfully. “How did they leave if not through the gate?” He stood, knocking down his chair in his haste. “Of course, there’s the postern gate! It slipped my mind. I will post a guard there immediately.”

Osgood’s foul mood continued as Walter and the mercenaries returned to report their failure to find Robbie.

“He must have escaped by the postern gate,” Osgood snarled. “Walter, place a guard there and lock Mariah in the solar. The rest of you search the village.” He sent Mariah a look that did not bode well for her. “We will find the boy, and when we do, you will wed Walter.”

Mariah clutched Father Francis’s hand as Walter jerked her to her feet.

“Let me go with her,” the priest said. “We shall pray together for the Lord’s guidance.”

Walter looked to his father for instruction.

“Nay, there will be no plotting together. Go back to your chapel, priest, and pray that we will find Mariah’s bastard.”

Walter herded Mariah up the winding staircase to her chamber and pushed her inside. Then he closed the door, turned the rusty key in the lock and went to join in the search.

Long before Osgood sent his searchers into the village, Edwina had left the keep. Osgood’s guard had let her pass through the gate, having recognized her as Mildenhall’s healer. Edwina carried a basket over her arm, informing the guard that she carried herbs to aid a cotter’s wife who had just birthed a babe.

Edwina hurried as fast as her old legs would carry her to the home of the alewife. “Did Robbie and Becca arrive safely?” she asked anxiously.

“I hid them in the cellar as you requested,” Dame Bertha whispered. “The lad is frightened, and who can blame him?”

“I suspect Osgood’s men will reach the village soon to search for Robbie,” Edwina revealed. “We don’t have much time.”

“They won’t find him,” Dame Bertha asserted. “They’ll never find their way into the cellar.”

“Aye, that’s why I sent the lad here. I have a basket of food from Mildenhall kitchens. I’d best see the lad now, before the mercenaries arrive.”

Dame Bertha led Edwina to the stillroom, where she brewed her excellent ale. The yeasty smell of fermenting ale hung heavy in the air. The alewife pushed an empty brass kettle aside and opened the trapdoor beneath it. Edwina scampered down the narrow wooden ladder into a damp chamber that was lit by several candles. Robbie was fast asleep on a pile of blankets. Becca, who sat beside him, rose when Edwina appeared.

“What is happening at the keep?” Becca asked.

“It doesn’t look good, lass. I brought a basket of food. You’re to stay here with Robbie until it’s safe to leave.”

“What of Lady Mariah? Is she . . . in good health?”

“She was when last I saw her. Osgood doesn’t dare harm her, at least not until Robbie is under his control and Mariah is wed to Walter. Once that happens, and pray God it does not, both their lives could be threatened.”

“I will pray for all of us,” Becca said.

“Be prepared to leave when Dame Bertha fetches you. I will try to arrange transportation to London. Once there, you are to seek out the king and tell him what has happened here.” She thrust the basket at Becca. “There’s a sack of gold coins tucked in the basket. Use it to provide for Robbie while in London. Though you are young, Becca, I trust you to keep Robbie safe.”

“I love Robbie,” Becca said solemnly. “I will do whatever it takes to protect him. Lady Mariah and Lord Edmond
have been good to me and my family—I can do no less.”

Edwina nodded, looked one last time at Robbie and then climbed up the ladder to the stillroom, where Dame Bertha awaited her return.

“When is your next delivery?” Edwina asked, aware that Bertha often sold her ale to surrounding villages and towns.

“My next batch is scheduled to go out tomorrow,” Bertha replied. “My husband Malcolm and son Horace drive the delivery wagon and unload it themselves.”

“Prepare two empty kegs for the next delivery,” Edwina said. “One each for Robbie and Becca. Advise your husband to deliver the lad and his nursemaid to London. Becca knows what to do there.”

They discussed arrangements as Edwina helped Bertha close the trapdoor and lug the brass kettle into place.

“I shouldn’t be here when Osgood’s men arrive,” Edwina said. “I must return to the keep before I am missed. Be alert, Bertha. Robbie and Becca must leave soon, before they are discovered. Tell no one they are here.”

Falcon’s party was well on its way to London when he abruptly halted and glanced behind him. He distinctly heard someone calling his name, but when he looked over his shoulder, no one was there. He had been bringing up the rear, trying to hurry along the cart carrying Leticia and Rosamond’s trunk.

Chiding himself for being fanciful, Falcon passed the cart and took the lead from Sir Dennis. Rosamond rode up beside him. “Is aught wrong, Falcon?”

“Did you call me a few minutes ago?” he asked.

“Nay.” She looked at him oddly. “I heard naught.”

Falcon grunted but wasn’t convinced. He had distinctly heard someone calling his name, someone pleading for help.

Mariah
.

It couldn’t be. His imagination was getting the better of him. Falcon had been uncomfortable leaving Mariah, and because of it, his mind must be playing tricks on him. He lifted his head. The breeze whispering through the trees seemed to repeat the same words, over and over.

Help me. I need you
.

Falcon dropped back to speak with his squire. “Jamie, I want you to return to Mildenhall. I have a feeling that all is not well there. Find out what you can and report back to me at my quarters in London.”

“Do you suspect foul play?”

“I have naught but my suspicion. Go, lad. I will be waiting anxiously for your return.”

Jamie let the rest of the party pass him before wheeling his horse back toward Mildenhall.

“What was that about?” Rosamond asked when Falcon rode up beside her. “Why did your squire turn back?”

“You need not concern yourself with Jamie,” Falcon replied. “I but sent him on an errand.”

While his answer seemed to satisfy Rosamond, it did little to ease Falcon’s disquiet. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones, hear the warning in the air.

Mariah prayed feverishly for deliverance from this latest threat to her and Robbie. She rose up from her knees when she heard the key turn in the lock. Osgood burst inside, his face red, his fists clenched. Walter hovered behind
him, looking no less threatening than his father. Mariah waited with bated breath for Osgood to tell her whether or not Robbie had been found.

“Where is he, Mariah?” Osgood blasted. “How could one small boy disappear into thin air?”

Mariah’s relief was so enormous, her legs turned to jelly and she collapsed into a chair.

Osgood grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet. “You know where he’s hiding! Tell me.”

Mariah shook her head. “Nay. I opened the gate to you in good faith. I had no idea you intended harm to me and mine. How could I have hidden Robbie when I was on hand to greet you in the courtyard?”

“What about the healer? She could have taken the boy away.”

“Nay. We both saw Edwina was in the hall, remember?”

“Someone fled with the brat through the postern gate. Perhaps one of the servants. I made a mistake, but it won’t happen again. The gate is well guarded now. No one else will leave without my knowledge.”

“We went from house to house in the village,” Walter growled. “If the boy was hiding there, we would have found him.”

Father Francis pushed into the chamber. “Did you harm any of the villagers?”

“Bah, they knew naught,” Osgood sneered. “A dumber lot I’ve never seen.”

“How long do you intend to keep me imprisoned?” Mariah asked.

“You are free to leave the solar to work in the kitchen. You and the healer are all we have until the servants can be persuaded to return.”

“You must allow me to travel back and forth to the village to administer to my flock,” the priest pleaded.

“I have no intention of preventing you from doing God’s work, Father,” Osgood replied piously. “You may continue to administer to the sick and dying in the village.

“While you are performing your duties,” Osgood continued, “you can tell the cotters that I mean no harm to their lady or to them. Inform the servants that they can return to their duties without fear.”

Mariah’s hopes soared. Father Francis would be a link to the village and thus with Robbie, for she knew with a certainty that her son was in a place no one would think to look for him. It worried her, however, that she did not know how long he would have to remain hidden. She prayed it wouldn’t be long.

“Go down to the kitchen, lady,” Osgood ordered, “and help the healer prepare the evening meal.”

“Where are my men? Have you harmed them?”

“They will come to no harm,” Osgood promised. “Once you and Walter are wed, he will have need of them. Henry won’t interfere once you and Walter are husband and wife, but slaughtering your men would bring his wrath down upon me and mine.”

“Do you give your word as a knight of the realm not to harm my men or servants should they return?” Mariah asked.

“Aye, you have my word. We need the servants as well as the guardsmen, for doubtless they will remain to serve you after you wed Walter. I shall release your steward, to prove my good faith.”

Head held high, Mariah brushed past Osgood and Walter and descended the stairs. Father Francis followed
close on her heels. Now that Osgood had sworn not to harm her people, she would send word through Father Francis for the servants to return. Despite her distrust of him, she hoped Osgood would keep his word.

Mariah entered the kitchen, her mouth watering when she saw a haunch of venison roasting over the fire, bread baking in the hearth oven and various pots hanging on hooks suspended over the fire.

Then she spied Edwina, basting the venison as it turned on the spit. Mariah flew to the healer and hugged her. “Where is Robbie?” she whispered into the old crone’s ear. “Is he well?”

“He is well. Fear not, Osgood will never find him, but the lad cannot remain hidden in the alewife’s cellar forever. I made arrangements for Robbie to be transported to London with the next shipment of ale that leaves the village.”

“London! Robbie will be lost there; ’tis a big, wicked city. All kinds of bad things could happen to him there.”

“Becca promised to take him to the king and explain your predicament.”

Panic-stricken, Mariah cried, “I cannot let them go alone! I need to go with them. If Becca cannot gain the king’s ear, I know not what will become of them. Becca is a country lass—she knows naught of London.”

“Mayhap there is something I can do to help,” Edwina confided. “I will think on it and confer with Father Francis. He is allowed to travel freely between the castle and the village.”

“I wish . . .”

“What do you wish, Mariah?”

“ ’Tis fanciful of me to think Falcon might learn of our
predicament and send help. But now that he has Rosamond, I fear Robbie and I are naught to him.”

“You should have told him that he is Robbie’s sire,” Edwina scolded.

Mariah shook her head. “To what purpose? Falcon’s future is with Rosamond. He already distrusts me for lying about my relationship to Edmond. Robbie will always be a bond tying me to Falcon, but I can never tell him about his son. I would die if he took Robbie away from me. I cannot bear the thought of Rosamond raising him.”

“You don’t know Falcon would take Robbie away from you,” Edwina chided.

Mariah’s answer was forestalled when Osgood stuck his head into the kitchen and barked, “What plot are you two hatching? My men and I are hungry. Get to work.”

“We are planning your demise,” Mariah said sweetly. “Are you sure you trust us around food?”

Swearing violently, Osgood summoned one of his mercenaries to watch over the women, warning the guard that he was to be the taster, so he had best make sure naught poisonous was added to the food.