Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (22 page)

The access room opened to the center of the second floor, with a giant, expensive rug adorning the floor, fine tapestries hanging on the wooden walls, small chairs and tables in various locations on the wall, along with large iron candle stanchions which held candles as long and as thick as Gwen’s arm.

These wooden walls contained doors leading to the various rooms.  On the immediate right from the southeast tower was Gwen’s room, then Talon’s larger solar.  Past Talon’s solar was the access room to the northeast tower and the stairs that led to Eleanor’s room.  Along the north wall was a door to a second guest room, then the access room to the northwest tower.  The east wall had only one door.  Then the access room to the southeast tower, ending with another door to a third guest room.

The guest rooms were primarily used for visiting nobility who were above sleeping in the great hall with the more mundane travelers who sought Montgomery’s hospitality for a night. 
They also might house young sons of nobles who would foster under Talon’s tutelage and learn to become knights. 

But right now, the only boy Talon sponsored was his squire, Thomas.  He was not nobility, instead Talon had taken him to squire as
recompense to his mother for raising Rose.  Thomas slept in the barracks with the serjants and other men at arms.

The stairs used to gain the second floor continued up the tower to the third.  On that floor was the lady’s solar with the loom and various other items the chatelaine would make use of.  The third floor was similar in layout to the second, presumably to house the lady’s maidens, and any female fosterlings she might take under her wing.  But these rooms were larger and there were fewer of them.  Most of the women would reside in groups in various rooms.

Gwen decided to explore the remainder of the second floor rooms before visiting the lady’s solar on the third.  The solar had long been prepared for her, but as before, because of Talon’s reactions, she had been loath to go there.

Curious as to what the large room on the east wall was, she decided to explore it first.  She tried the door and found it unlocked.

Taking a breath for courage, she opened it and stepped inside, where she stopped in surprise.

The room was very large, stretching almost the distance of the wall, with only the curve of the east tower in the middle of the outer stone wall to interrupt the line.

A giant canopied bed stood in the corner, expensive rugs covered the floors, well-made furniture filled the room and toys adorned the place.  A child’s nursery.  Gwen’s throat tightened, no doubt this was Rose’s room.

In one corner sat a small cradle with a stuffed doll resting peacefully.  Gwen wondered if the cradle had been Rose’s, when she was a baby, now the doll’s adopted sleeping place.  Small
knickknacks rested on shelves, a stuffed black cloth horse, which looked suspiciously like Ebon, sat on the bed.  Gwen’s gaze traveled the room.  On a desk sat several hair ribbons and pieces of half-finished embroidery, training pieces; a drop spindle with clumsily knotted wool, another teaching item; and an inkle-weaving loom with another unfinished piece.

Gwen rubbed her arms, a sudden chill sweeping over her.  Just like her mother’s room, this one seemed to be waiting for its occupant to return at any moment.

She suddenly had a better understanding of Talon’s anguish.

Her gaze stopped on a large table in the far corner and she stared in amazement.  A miniature castle took up the entire table.  She stepped forward, examining it closely.  The detail was
fascinating; every stone of the keep looked real, the gates made of wood, the portcullis had a bit of rust on the metal...everything was impeccably created.  Inside the bailey, painstakingly painted to the last detail, were tiny carved people and animals, stables, stock pens, the gardens....

The gardens.

This keep was an exact replica of Montgomery castle.  Gwen peered closer.  Near the list field stood a large black horse, dressed for war.  Next to him was a tall figure with long brown hair, wearing fine chainmail armor, his coif falling down his back, and a surcoat with the Montgomery emblazon. 

Other knights gathered around him, as if awaiting his orders to jump into action.  Men at arms and serjants took their posts, guarding the safety of the castle.  Near the mews, tiny hunting falcons awaited.  Pigs rooted around in their sty, sheep waited to be sheared, chickens scratched for bugs, dogs roamed around their kennels, cows and horses ate hay in the small barns.  Servants scattered about, tending their business.  A small girl, who could only be
Rose, watched her father.  Other children, some in various poses of playing with a ball stood close by.

Never in her life had Gwen seen such fantastic artistry.  It seemed as if an exact moment in time from Montgomery castle had been frozen, locked in place forever, only to be moved at the whim of a child.  It was beautiful, and Gwen saw Talon’s heart behind all of it. 

“My...my lady?” a startled voice called.

Gwen jumped and spun, gazing at the door fearfully but was relieved to see only Nan, Rose’s nurse.  She spoke to the woman very little.  Since Rose’s disappearance, Nan had become timid and withdrawn.

“Good morrow, Nan, I was exploring the castle and discovered this.”  She gestured to the miniature.  “It is beautiful.”

Nan’s eyes filled with tears as she entered the room and approached the castle.  Lovingly, she brushed her fingers over the top of one of the towers.  “Aye, ‘tis beautiful, milady.  But ‘tis also awful to dust.”

Gwen smiled encouragingly.  “I can understand.  All those tiny pieces.”

“And lady Rose, she doesn’t want a piece disturbed when she gets them in place.”  The elder woman smiled fondly through her tears.  “This is her greatest treasure.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Her father gifted it to her.  He had just learned Lady Eleanor was breeding when he had to make a trip to France.  He found a master woodcarver and commissioned the piece.  Later, the Earl sent illuminations to the woodcarver of the keep, the gardens, even of himself, Rose, and his horse.  The Earl gave the castle to Rose on her fifth birthday.  Every birthday and Christmas, Rose receives a handful of people and
animals.  The collection continues to grow.  And Rose loves it.”

Sadly, Gwen turned away, looking about the room a final time.  She imagined hearing the laughter of a little girl as she played with her toys, her frustration as she struggled to learn embroidery and master the drop-spindle without her mother’s guidance. 

“It must be difficult for her.”

“Aye.  I try to be a mother to her, but I am not very good at the things she wants to learn, spinning and weaving.  But it does my heart good to see how close she and her father are.  I just hope....” her voice faded and a renewed surge of tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I do too,” Gwen said softly.  She took Nan by the arm and led her out of the room.  Wincing against the pain in her heart, Gwen closed the door behind her.

There had to be a way to find the child, both for Rose’s sake and Talon’s.  No one should have to endure something so terrible.

Gwen sighed; her thoughts tangled, but did not see any way to learn more about Rose without endangering her.

Please do not search for her,
Talon had said.  She had no desire to make a mistake and have him lose his child.

Gwen and Nan parted.  Gwen slowly went to the third floor and the ladies solar.  She sat before the loom and began to sort through the items available.  Planning her weaving always distracted her from unpleasant thoughts.

Days later, Gwen was well into her new weaving project but she needed silver-beaten thread to reproduce chainmail armor but had no way to make it at the keep.  She had heard of a fuller in the village market who maintained a stock of fine thread in order to satisfy Eleanor’s vices.  But that had been a long time ago.  Would he still have some?  She rose and left the solar in search of Marcus.

She found him in the bailey watching the training in the lists.  “Marcus,” she called approaching him.

“Aye, lady?” he asked with his usual smile and bow.

“I know Talon instructed me not to leave this keep.  But I wish to go to the village market.  Surely, we can determine a way to safely do this.”

His bushy gray eyebrows drew together. “But I remain concerned for your safety.”

“I know, Marcus, but I’ve been cooped in this castle too long.  I only wish to see the Fuller and speak to him about fabrics and thread.”

He nodded.  “Our gardener has mentioned he does not have the seeds or cutlings you wish for some of your medicants.  We might be able to find them at market as well.”

“Perhaps we could take a group of men with us.  I promise you, I will not wander from their protection.”

“Very well, lady, I see no harm in a trip to market.  If you will give me a moment to gather the men and prepare the horses, we will leave shortly.”

“Thank you, Marcus.”

Within the hour, Gwen rode her palfrey in the midst of six heavily armed men, one of which was Marcus.  She had the fleeting sensation she was being guarded with the vigilance of the queen. 

The market was large and an absolute delight.  Montgomery’s farming was rich and its position on one of the main river crossings gave it access to bountiful trade.  Well maintained wattle and daub buildings lined the sides of the main road.  The people were well clothed and happy.

Young children scampered and played in the streets.  Elder children assisted in various labors.  Merchants hawked their wares to passersby.  A local bakery sent wonderful smells of freshly baked bread into the streets.  A young woman opened the door bearing a full tray of honey cakes asking if they would like to try some.  Marcus politely declined but gave her a bit of money and requested three dozen be delivered to the keep for the evening meal.  

They passed by a blacksmith and heard the clang of the hammer and the roar of the bellows.  A group of heavily armed men gathered outside, studying his weapons and armor.  One man hefted a finely made broadsword, nodding in approval at its balance.  All of them turned and barked a greeting to Marcus.

A large mill using an offshoot of the river ground wheat into flour.  Gwen heard the massive stones grating together even from a distance.  Three men wearing nothing but braies and boots loaded large sacks of flour into a wagon. 

A goldsmith bent over his tasks under the shade of his covered booth, creating beautiful jewelry, goblets, and plates.  On a rack behind him hung a few simple swords and daggers from the blacksmith.  Once the blacksmith finished them, the goldsmith would adorn them with jewels and other decoration for ceremonial pieces.  The goldsmith looked up and waved as the group passed.  He held up a beautiful gold necklace set with emeralds asking if the lady might care to examine it.  Gwen bit her lip.  Even aboard a horse she could see its fine craftsmanship.  But she remembered her promise to Marcus and shook her head.  Perhaps later when Talon returned.

They passed by a large building with empty sheep pens but the time for sheering rapidly approached.  While the people bid hail to Marcus and his men, Gwen caught the surprised glances and whispered comments about her.  No doubt they were shocked to see a lady under Montgomery’s guard and gossip would fly about whom she was and why she was here.  They would no doubt realize Talon had been a widow for eight years; it was long past time he remarried and produced more potential heirs.  The life expectancy of a child was tenuous in this land.  She thought of Rose and shuddered.  But feeling their eyes on her made Gwen distinctly uncomfortable.  She briefly wondered if the various merchants had just weighed and measured her worth.

They stopped at the Fuller's small shop and Marcus helped Gwen dismount.  The men at arms also dismounted, scattering a bit to look at various merchant booths but remained in close proximity.  A young man hailed Marcus as they approached the door, speaking excitedly about a livestock thief they had caught during the night.

Marcus frowned.  “Why was I not told of this?”

“We were just preparing to send word to you, my lord.  We discovered him last night and he gave us a goodly chase.  We only caught him upon the sunrise thanks to the forester’s hunting
dogs.”

Marcus’ frown deepened and he turned to Gwen.  “I must speak to the lad about this.”  He handed her a small purse.  “Purchase whatever you need, I will remain at the door and the men will be close.”

“Of course, Marcus,” she said, taking the purse and entering the small shop.

The Fuller was a short burly man with wispy gray hair straggling from under his cap.  He greeted her with a bright smile.  “My lady,” he said bowing low.  “I had hoped the new lady of Montgomery would visit me.  I have done fine service to the previous lady with her fabrics and threads.”

“That’s what I’ve heard Master Fuller.  Please show me what you have in supply.”

“At once my lady, this way please.  I have some stock left over and what I do not have I can purchase on my son’s annual trip to London.”

He led her to a back room and opened a large chest filled with skeins and various samples.  It seemed as if only moments had passed as Gwen picked the thread carefully but then she heard the creak of armor at the door.

She looked up, expecting to see Marcus, impatient with her dallying.  But the man wearing armor was a stranger.

“My lord fuller,” the man said.  “Sir Marcus has been forced to deal with the thief and requested that I escort the lady home at once.”

Gwen felt a terrible chill skitter down her spine.  Marcus would never request such a thing.  “Where is Sir Marcus?” she asked sharply.  “I will speak to him about this.”

“As I said, he has been detained and is concerned for your safety.  Come, my lady, I will escort you home.  The fuller can deliver your purchases to the keep.”

Gwen stiffened in righteous fury.  “I am not some tittering, lack-witted maid to follow you so blindly.  I will remain here until Sir Marcus returns.  Where are the men who accompanied me?”

The man stepped forward, a feral gleam in his eyes.  Gwen tried to retreat but in the tiny room had nowhere to go.  His fingers latched painfully on her arm.  “You will come with me.”

She snarled in rage trying to twist her arm from his grasp.  The fuller seemed to realize the improper situation and lunged forward.  “Release her!  I demand to see Sir Marcus!”

The armored man backhanded him, sending the fuller reeling.  His head hit a bench and he collapsed, blood spattering around him.

Gwen recoiled in horror.  The man, his grip crushing, hauled her out the door, heading for the back of the shop.  He passed by several oil lamps used to light the interior, and knocked them
to the ground.  The lamps broke open, the oil quickly igniting and spreading flames through the shop.  The wooden building, filled with wool and fabrics, erupted like a tinderbox.

Gwen coughed and choked.  What had happened to Marcus and the other men?  Were they dead?  The man hauled her out the back door.  In the smoke and confusion she plowed into him, bounced off,
and then her back hit a huge vat of dye boiling over a large fire.

Her gaze locked on a giant wooden spoon used to stir the dye.  She seized it and flung the hot liquid and the spoon with all of her might.  The boiling dye and the heavy spoon struck the man full in the face.  He screamed in agony and released Gwen, clawing at his eyes.

Gwen sprinted down the back stairs.  Suddenly a body plowed into her from behind, sending her flying.  Her head slammed into one of the wooden railings and a white light exploded followed instantly by darkness encroaching on her vision.  She battled it back, a terrible pain shooting through her head, and kicked violently.  Through the blood streaming into her eyes she saw the man had managed to wrap his arms around her legs.  She continued to kick and her heel slammed into his nose.  She felt bone crunch and he howled, again losing his grip.

Somehow, Gwen staggered to her feet.  She could barely see for the blood in her eyes and the haze across her vision.  Stabbing pain throbbed through her head and the world seemed to spin around her.  She lurched forward.  She had to escape.  She had to find Marcus.  Ahead of her she saw a horse tethered to a post but could not recognize if it was hers.  She didn’t care.  She lunged forward and managed to haul herself into the saddle.  Clinging to the horse’s mane, she kicked hard.  The horse squealed and galloped away.  Gwen could not see to control the beast, her wits no longer fully in her
possession; her only thought was to hang on for dear life.

****

“Where is she?” Marcus screamed as his sword dispatched the last mercenary standing between him and the fuller’s burning shop.  All but two of his men at arms were dead and they along with Marcus suffered serious wounds from the surprise attack.  The mercenaries from the blacksmith’s shop had engaged from behind.  The bloody lump on the back of his skull throbbed along with the dagger wound to his side.  But his terror for Gwen pushed him forward to the door of the fuller’s shop.  Smoke and flames boiled around him as he battled to enter.

“Gwen!” he screamed.

Two pairs of hands grabbed each of his arms and he automatically fought against him.

“Sir Marcus!” a familiar voice cried in his ear.  “It’s us, Erick and John.”

“Let me go, you fool louts, Gwen is still in there.”

“Nay, my lord, you cannot go in.  The building is completely on fire.  If anyone is in there
they are dead.”

Marcus hesitated, blinking to clear his vision, horror coiling through him as the knights dragged him away.  The fullers shop was engulfed.  Villagers scrambled with buckets of water, no longer trying to save the shop but keeping the flames from spreading to other buildings.

“Nay,” Marcus whispered hoarsely.  This could not be!  But he could not deny the evidence before him.  No one could have survived the fire and no one had seen Gwen emerge.  She could not be dead! 

“Nay!” Marcus screamed dropping to his knees.  Dear God, first Rose and now Gwen.  What would this do to Talon?  He squeezed his eyes closed despair overwhelming him.  Mary have mercy he had utterly failed Talon...again.

****

Gwen’s horse finally slowed its pell-mell gallop, its sides heaving.  She lay over its neck, her hands maintaining the death grip on its mane.  The horse wandered the trails aimlessly.  She couldn’t see, she couldn’t even think, agony surged through her skull.  The bile rose in her throat choking her.  The world continued to spin in a bloody haze.

“Good God,” a deep voice said in a low and gentle tone.  The horse below her shied slightly but the voice continued to speak in soothing tones.  Gwen was dimly aware of someone grabbing the reins.  The horse stopped and a large, callused hand touched her arm.

“Nay,” Gwen moaned, trying to pull away, but blackness darkened her vision and her stomach churned.

“Hold, milady,” the voice said, maintaining its gentle tone.  Gwen caught the sound of a distinctive accent which she should have been able to identify but her pounding head wouldn’t allow her.  “I will not harm you, milady.”

She blinked, trying to clear the blood from her vision.  The man’s blurred face slowly focused.  He appeared tall and strong, wearing finely made armor.  A knight?  Gwen’s gaze fell on his eyes and she sucked in her breath.  Beautiful green-blue eyes stared at her in concern, just like her brother’s eyes.

“Bran?” she whispered, shaking.  Please, God, let it be true.  Let Bran be alive.

“I fear you mistake me for someone else.  My name is Brynmor,” the man said.  He stepped closer and swore under his breath.  “Merciful Saints, you have struck your head a grievous blow, no wonder you are confused.”

Hope crashed within her.  Now that she could see a little more clearly, she realized this man was not her dead brother although he looked remarkably like him.  He bore the same eyes and long black hair fell straight down his back.  Despair overwhelmed her, adding to her pain and exhaustion, and she started to slide off the horse.

Brynmor caught her easily.  She moaned in pain but was in no position to fight him.  “I will not hurt you, milady,” he said again.  “What ill has befallen you?”

“Please,” she whispered, fighting to focus even though the world spun around her.  “They are trying to kill me.”

His eyes widened in alarm.  “Who?”  He walked a few paces then eased her down.  Gwen realized after a moment she was on a bedroll.  It appeared as if the young knight was traveling and had just set camp for the night.  He picked up a wineskin and poured a small cup for her, holding it to her lips.

Gwen tried to gulp it down, she was absolutely parched.

“Easy,” he said, pulling it away.  “You’ll make yourself sick.”  Gradually, he allowed her to quench her thirst, then dampened a cloth and began to clean the blood from her face.  “What is your name?”